#but regardless the sound makes his head snap around cause he’s suddenly VERY aware that there’s blood staining the fabric of their clothes

[attllhak]

Adoption AU - Sky and Time: The Story of The Family’s Most Unlikely Arrest

@tortilla-of-courage @ghostdragonace hey look I actually have a tag list now!

Also, most of the fics in the Adoption AU don’t have really long titles like this, but this is also not the longest I’ve titled these fics. There is one with a longer title sitting in my docs.

Regardless, here’s the one where Sky got arrested that was supposed to be fun until Sky and Time decided that feelings were getting involved. So now feelings are talked about, kinda. This is also the second of those intro fics that will probably never have more added. Enjoy!

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

Time sighed heavily, rubbing his forehead. He set the phone down and sat back in his chair, not eager for this in the slightest.

“Who was it, dear?” Malon called around the corner, still busy getting Wild to stay sitting so he didn’t injure his ankle further.

Time sighed again, opening his good eye to the ceiling and asking Hylia why he ever chose to take in so many kids.

“Captain Viscen,” he replied, more tired than he was before answering the phone. “I need to head down and pick up one of the boys,”

Malon tutted, giving up on Wild now that Four had shown up and sat on him. “Which one? Twilight hasn’t gotten caught racing again has he? Or do we need to pull out the first aid kit because Warriors got in a fight? It isn’t Legend, is it?”

Time shut his eye and laughed. “The fact you have each boy and their cause of arrest memorized worries me about our parenting ability,”

Malon scoffed at him and wacked his arm lightly. “Oh just let me know if I need to prepare for when you get back because one of our boys is bleeding,”

Time chuckled again, standing up to stretch. “No, no one’s hurt, but I don’t think a lecture is necessary either,”

“Oh?”

Time hummed, dropping a kiss to his wife’s head on his way past her. “Apparently I’m picking up Sky,”

“Sky?” The look Malon gave him was clear confusion.

Time shrugged, grabbing keys and heading out the front door. “I’ll ask when I pick him up, but I suppose we’ll just see then,”

Malon shook her head. “Just get back safe,”

“Of course,” Time smiled back at her, then shot a look at the boys on the couch. Wild gulped and Four snorted.

About twenty minutes later, Time was pulling his old pickup into the police station parking lot. It was a situation he found himself in a lot. With a sigh he stuffed the keys into a pocket and made his way inside. Better now than later.

When he walked in he was greeted with Sky’s loud friend, Goose?, loudly recounting the adventure that led to the arrest to his parents, who had also been called and were less thrilled than their son. Sky was sitting nearby, head down and shoulders hunched, trying to make himself as small as possible, and doing a fairly good job of it.

He was approached by the captain as he entered. “Link! Thank you for coming down,”

“Captain Viscen,” Time smiled and accepted the handshake. “Of course, I’m just curious as to why I’m here. Sky’s not exactly a troublemaker,”

“Oh he’s not,” Viscen agreed. “But his friend most certainly is. We caught him painting one of the walls of a bar in town, fled when we showed up. We wouldn’t have even bothered with your kid, he was clearly trying to talk his friend out of it, but he ran too,”

Time sighed, well aware of how Sky had a tendency to just accept other’s snap judgements over his own when panicked.

“Thank you, Viscen. I can just take him home then?”

“Yup, he’s all yours,” Viscen waved at the boy, who shrunk into himself further.

Time nodded and moved past the captain, stopping once he was standing in front of Sky. The boy shrunk down, his ears tinged red in what was likely shame. There were flecks of red paint on the shoulder of his shirt, which was far less than the splatters on his friend. He was white knuckled with his grip on his pants.

Time sighed heavily and Sky flinched. “Sky,”

There was a long pause as Sky pulled his head up to look at Time. “Hi dad,” his voice was small, and Time could easily see guilt in his expression.

Time sighed again, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Come on, let’s go home,” he reached out a hand to his guilt-ridden son.

Sky took it and stood, gluing himself to Time’s side as he tried to stay as small as possible. Time rolled his eye and wrapped his arm around Sky’s shoulders, leading him out.

“Excuse me, sir,” Time paused, turning around briefly to address the man flagging him down. Sky’s friend’s dad had broke away from his wife to approach them.

Time would admit he didn’t know the man or his wife very well, Sky was a newer addition to their apparently ever growing family and he and Malon hadn’t had time to meet all of his friends or their parents yet. This wasn’t an ideal time, but he wasn’t about to come off as unfriendly.

“Yes?” He raised a brow as the man approached. Sky shrunk further into his side.

“You’re Link’s father, correct?” The man glanced from Sky to Time. “The one who took him in after,” he trailed off.

“That’s correct,” Time nodded, not one to dwell on the reasons his boys had come to him either, especially the less fortunate members of their family.

The man cleared his throat then, shaking off whatever it was. He stuck out his hand. “I’m Zulos, Groose’s father. My wife, Esha, and I have been meaning to get in contact with you for a while now,”

“Oh?” Time accepted the man’s hand, grateful that he offered his left, though that might be because Time’s right was occupied holding Sky. “Well it’s a pleasure to meet you as well. Malon and I have been looking at meeting up with some of the rest of his friends’ parents as well, we just haven’t had the time,”

“Keeping you busy, eh?” Zulos laughed.

Time chuckled himself, shaking his head. “Actually, he’s one of the calmer boys. It’s his brothers that we’re running all over town trying to keep track of,”

Zulos raised his eyebrows, looking Time over. “Brothers, eh? How many you got?”

“Six right now, but that’s likely to increase as well,” Time smiled patiently, rubbing Sky’s arm, which didn’t seem to help. “Sky’s our most recent addition,”

“Sky?” Zulos seemed confused by that.

“Oh, right,” Time laughed, waving him off. “My mistake, I forgot you might not know. My name is Link, as is, amusingly, all of our boys. I didn’t plan that, so you know,”

“Ah,” Zulos laughed. “I see! Well, we’d love to chat at some point better than here,” a glance back at his son who had only gotten louder as his mother tried to quiet him. “I don’t suppose I could get your number?”

“Of course,” Time pulled out his phone, rattling off the number as Zulos plugged it into his own phone, then added the number Zulos gave him to his own.

“We’ll be in touch,” Zulos waved, walking back to rescue his wife.

Time waved, then steered Sky out of the building and back to the truck.

Sky was silent as Time climbed in and pulled out of the lot, keeping his eyes on his hands in his lap. Time let the silence sit for the first half of the drive, willing to give Sky time to start talking on his own. When it seemed clear Sky was waiting for the same thing, Time sighed and took the initiative to break the silence. 

“Sky,” he paused, not sure how to go about this. Sky wasn’t in trouble, so he couldn’t approach it the way he did the other boys.

“I’m sorry,” Sky said, eyes down. Time glanced at him and saw the boy hunched up again, ears drooped and voice small. “I didn’t mean to get in trouble, I swear. Groose just heard that Legend and Ravio did murals sometimes and wanted to do one too. I tried to talk him out of it, but then the cops showed up and,” Sky paused in his mini rant, voice wobbling now.

Time cast his eyes over the boy, who so clearly felt awful about this and was beating himself up over it. Time sighed. “Sky, that’s not,” he paused again to collect his thoughts.

“I’m sorry,” Sky said again, now a shaky whisper. “I really wasn’t trying to get in trouble, and I didn’t mean to bother you to have to come get me, and I,” and that was the sound of tears.

Time sighed, pulling the truck over in order to deal with this without his attention drawn away from the boy in question. He knew Sky felt bad about getting caught, but tears weren’t something he thought would pop up. None of the other boys ever cried after getting caught and having Time collect them.

Sky was sniffling, and trying very hard to prevent himself from crying. Pulling over seemed to have made it worse, the boy curling in on himself a little and starting to shake.

“Sky,” Time tried for his gentlest voice, aware of how fragile Sky was right now. “Can you look at me, please?”

Sky shakily raised his head to look at Time. He was biting his lip, eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

“I’m sorry, I really am. I swear I’m not usually this much of an issue, I, we just,” Sky broke eye contact, looking away but not moving his head.

Time reached out and gently wiped away one of the tears that had broken free, fully aware of how Sky flinched away. “Sky, what is this about? It can’t be the arrest, so what’s got you so upset?”

Sky darted his eyes back to Time, anxiety or fear swimming around in the light blue. “I’m sorry, I just,” he paused to swallow, dropping his head down to his lap again. “You won’t send me back, will you?”

Time pondered that for a moment, then felt like he was hit with a sledgehammer. Sky was worried about getting sent back into the system again. There were a few heartbeats where Time felt furious at everyone who had ever said or done something like that to this wonderful boy to make him so scared of that. He quashed it down quickly, however. Anger, even righteous anger on Sky’s behalf, wouldn’t help here.

“Sky, we’re not sending you back,” Time put all the conviction he could into his voice, and his heart broke when Sky looked up at him again, eyes suddenly showing hope.

“You’re not?”

“No, of course not,” he reached out one hand to set on Sky shoulder. “We would never do that to you,”

“Even,” Sky’s voice wobbled again, and a hard set of blinks sent a pair of tears running down his face. “Even though I got arrested?”

Time had to remind himself that Sky hadn’t been around long enough to have seen his brothers get picked up. “Sky, this is not the first time I’ve had to pick up one of my boys from the police station. Twilight and Warriors both end up there every few months, and Legend only doesn't end up there more often because he’s gotten good at not getting caught. And besides, you’re not even in trouble,”

“I’m not?” Sky sniffed again, confused.

“No, of course not,” Time reached over with his free hand to wipe away a few more stray tears. “You didn’t do anything wrong except end up in the wrong place at the wrong time. You’re not going to get in trouble for trying to keep your friend out of trouble,”

Sky looked down again, grappling with this information.

“So, so you’re not mad at me? And, and you won’t send me back?”

Time’s heart broke again when Sky looked back up at him. No kid should ever have to look so broken or grateful to not get kicked out of the house. Especially not someone who was only 15.

“Of course not,” he leaned over the console to pull Sky into his arms. “You’re a part of the family Sky, and we’d never willingly give you up. We’d all fight tooth and nail to keep you around, you never have to worry about that with us. Nothing could make us so upset with you that we’d ever let you go. That I swear to you,”

It took a second, but he eventually felt Sky grab his shirt, and seconds later he could feel the shaking that came with crying. Time held Sky close, ignoring the twinge in his lower back from the uncomfortable angle and whispering a few soothing words and reassurances to his newest son. He made a note to call his lawyer when he got home to see about speeding up the adoption process for Sky. Getting that piece of paper might help set the boy’s nerves at ease somewhat.

Eventually, Sky calmed down from his bout, leaning back out of the hug to wipe at his eyes and croak out another apology. Time felt another lash of anger for this boy, who was so sweet and kind, and all of the awful things he must have lived through in the year since his parents died.

But anger wouldn’t help here, so he pushed it aside to deal with later, when he had Malon to rant to.

“Better?” Time asked, eye running over Sky’s face.

Sky nodded, eyes red and face flushed. “Sorry about that, I just,”

“Hey, no,” Time reached out to pull Sky’s face back to look at him. “You never have to apologize for being scared. Not to us,”

He held Sky’s gaze until he nodded, then leaned back.

“Can we go home now?” Sky asked, looking more tired than Time had ever seen him.

Time nodded, then glanced at the building he’d pulled over in front of. He jabbed his thumb at it. “Would you like some ice cream first? You can say no,”

Sky looked up, glancing between Time and the shop, then nodded. Time smiled, climbing out of the car with Sky following.

(---)

Time opened the door to let Sky in past him, then made a sharp motion at Malon warning her not to ask about what happened. Malon raised one eyebrow, but thankfully said nothing.

“Hey Sky!” Wild waved a hand to get his brother’s attention. “Can you hand me the remote? I don’t think I can take another hour of the documentary channel,”

“What’s wrong with the documentary channel?” Four squawked in offense.

“It’s boring,” Wild shot back.

“It is not boring!”

An argument broke out, and Time sighed heavily. He’d used up his emotional reserves already, and what was left was set aside for an angry rant at Malon later.

“I like the documentary channel,” Sky offered.

Wild squawked and Four cheered. Sky quickly looked like he regretted throwing his hat in the ring as he was pulled into the argument.

Malon wandered up to take his arm, smiling at him. “Everything went well?”

“I need to call our lawyer,” Time said. “The sooner we get that piece of paper saying he’s ours, the better,”

Malon gave him a curious look, but didn’t press. She’d hear it all later anyways. For now, Time was content to watch his sons bicker and argue like the kids they were.

That was a blessing well worth the pain that led them here.

[yandere--stuck]

Yandere Megaera x Shade Reader, submitted by @faeleas (idk if i did it right, but hope you like it regardless. and im sorry it's a little long >_<")

~

it had taken so long for you to sneak back into the entrance to Asphodel to catch even a glimpse of the powerful fury without her detection, but now that you had your spot behind on of the pillars far off to the side, you stayed put, kept silent and didn't blink lest you lost one second of Megaera in the fullness of her element.

she was a blaze of glory, her strength vibrating through the air as she snapped out her whip again and again at the prince, slicing the very breath from your lungs as you gazed in awe. how wonderful and powerful she was to behold, and how enthralling it always would be to watch her fight, to see her wicked smile cut into her teal cheek as she overflowed with the desire to cut the Zagreus down and stop his progress.

you could almost feel the faint impression of a thundering heartbeat in your chest, and that sensation only swelled when Megaera caught Zagreus by the ankle with her whip and tossed him high into the air above her. you gaped, eyes on her alone and in your shock, your duty to silence fell away, the quiet suddenly broken with your small gasp.

Megaera was just about to deal a finishing blow to the haughty prince who'd dared challenge her again, who was so proud to believe he could best her in her own domain, when she heard it. she heard you.

time seemed to stutter as her gold eyes darted to every corner of the entrance to Asphodel, searching through the dim glow of flickering firelight for the source of the sound that broken her focused rage. after a second, her brazen gaze locked on you hidden in the shadows in the corner of her arena, hands clasped over your mouth and eyes wide with... something. as far as she knew, it should be fear. no shade had ever gotten this far away from the House of Hades, let alone made it inside this forbidden space, and yet, there you were, trembling as you held her narrowing gaze still.

why? what kind of foolishness mightve brought you to her? what a silly, brazen little shade you must be to even try, but before Megaera could consider any possibilities about what you might be made of, a searing pain tore through her lower back.

a gasp clawed out of her gut, dragging up with it a small splatter of blood that coated her lips. as Megaera tore her eyes from you to her stomach, she found the tip of Zagreus's sword lodged right through her waist.

"y-you... wre-etched... " she choked, then coughed again. with the little time she had left, Megaera looked over her shoulder at the young determined prince and snarled a smile full of bloody teeth before she spat, "next time, i-i will... have you... kneeling before m-me... Za-agreus."

the fury was beginning to fade, but with the very last moments of her current awareness, she threw a burning glare at you, daring you to try anything near her again.

Megaera snarled as she came to and pushed herself to her feet in the resurrection pool of blood, snatching her whip from the shallow beside her and quickly marching out, shaking the sticky blood from her hands and raking it out of her long lilac-blue ponytail. You were all she xould think about: the shade who had snuck in, distracted her, watched her get outmatched by that smart-mouthed prince of Hades. she had to find you and punish you as she saw fit.

blowing off Thanatos before he could say anything to her, not that her blazing rage that licked at the air around her like coughed up sputters of lava from a volcano didn't do enough to stop his attempt anyway, the Fury snapped out her one sharp wing and took off, rushing back to her domain in hopes that you had been petrified where you stood. when she landed with a thunderous crash and found you there still, a bubbling snarl rose to her throat.

"You." Megaera prowled towards you, cutting her whip through the air just to make you flinch, and just as you opened you mouth to apologise and explain, she roared and unleashed her weapon, the force of the wind caused by it's movement alone knocking you back into the very pillar you had been hiding behind. not a moment after you'd caught the breath knocked from your lungs did you find it firmly restricted once again, Megaera's whip binding you securely to the marble pillar itself.

Megaera stood with her arms crossed for a moment, her endless rage sparking under her teal skin, brightened by the gold ornaments that gleamed around her arms and waist and neck. she watched you squirm in the tight coil of her whip, a grin stretching across her rouged lips as your panicked eyes eventually met hers. you knew all she could do, and you could tell from her easy cadance walking close to you that she knew it also.

"Tell me, you impudent shade, why were you in my domain? for what reason would you think you could be here and not be discovered?"

Megaera purred, but her voice was devoid of warmth, promising that the wrong answer would only end in pain. she kept sauntering closer and closer to you until her iron breath caressed your face, then placing her hand beside your head on the pillar, the fury ran her tongue across her teeth, leaned over you and finished, "What made you think you were that clever to enter the arena of a Fury and escape unpunished? Do tell."

now you knew you had a heart, since it thumped hot and hard in every corner of your being. you couldn't pull your eyes from hers even though everything in you screamed to. you swallowed hard, knowing there was no way out of this so with a sigh, gave in and told the truth.

"I-I... I s-saw you once, in the lounge. I'd h-heard about you but... I just wanted to see you- to watch you fight, i mean."

Megaera frowned at your words but inside her, something was turning. "Is that so?"

you nodded quickly, then instantly shivered it when you watched the burning anger in her gaze reduce to a contained simmer, gold winking in the light of the fires around you both.

The Fury watched you, the hot blush in your cheeks, listened to the thundering of your heart in your chest, could almost taste the terrified awe in the air around you, not that she wasn't used to it. But... you thought she was incredible.

Megaera thought back to the fight with Zagreus, the moment she'd met your gaze, how wide and full of.. adoration it had been. it wasnt disgust, or disdain, or fear. it was... shock, awe maybe... something else.

"How long have you been watching me?" she whispered, leaning closer, pulling on the end of the whip and purring a smile when you whimpered.

the leather of her whip burned as it pressed into your throat, the hissing sting snatching every thought from your mind. after finding your breath, you tightly confessed, "I've... seen you fight Prince Z-Zagreus... 13 times. I didn't mean t-to intrude. I just.. wanted to see you fight for myself."

Megaera blinked twice quickly. 13 times. it took at least a week for Zagreus to get through all of Hades and reach the surface, so for 13 weeks you had been watching her, not in disgust, or disdain, something else that made you come back.

"Why?"

again the Fury pulled the whip tighter, and again it dug into your body, making you gasp as you blinked through the stinging pain, but as it subsided, you looked up into her honeyed gaze with desperation and honesty, muttering with embarrassed timidity. "I... think you're... really cool. Incredible, even. T-That's all."

Incredible.

a pulse flickered in Megaera's bottomless core. No one had ever used such a word to describe her in... longer than she knew. those words settled deep in Megaera's heart faster than she could stop them, and once they were there, everything in her clung to them like they were the only thing keeping her alive.

What were you that such simple words could elicit such a profound internal symphony that almost sent her shivering with shock? how could she have not known such power existed? when you looked at her with that pleading gaze, with eyes that were so raw with truth, full of goodness, of... something, it was impossible to lokk away. in your eyes was something that was more than respect, more than fear, more than adoration... love was the only thing more than all three.

yes, that must be the only explanation. You loved watching her, you loved seeing her fight, loved seeing her, loved her. You loved her. how fickle, how very mortal of you... and yet...

Megaera huffed a laugh as she stepped back to look at you, all of you that apparently loved all of her. The Fury couldn't believe it. a simple shade had risked everything to tell her, to show her that they loved her. how enrapturing.

the lilac haired punisher of jealousy was quickly overcome with something that, in the scope of all that had just happened, must felt like love too, but she wanted it for herself alone. this pulse of heat within her because of you and the way you looked at her, it was for her, and it would always be hers. anything that threatened to take it away would be destroyed. it had to be.

with that resolve fluttering inside her, Megaera gently brushed your cheek with the back of her fingers, then lifted your chin with her finger. when you flinched at her cool touch, she grinned and cooed sweetly, "Hm. Oh, my curious little shade. If you love it so much, then you will stay here to watch me. You will be able to witness my greatness for as long as you want, as many times as you want. Yes, you will stay right here, but if you betray this trust, there will be consequences. Have I made myself clear?"

As you nodded, likely out of fear of saying otherwise, Megaera's heart tightened once again. Yes, you loved her, and now, she would fight to show you how much that love meant, to prove that she was the only one you needed to love, to make you love her even more. It wouldn't be hard.

No one else would take your eyes from gazing upon her. Not Zagreus, not her sisters, not even Lord Hades himself. Your endless gaze was hers now, and by extension, so were you.

end

---

I'm so so sorry I only posted this just now but. Oh my Goddddd this is incredible holy shit!!! Thank you so, so much for submitting this I'm 👀👀👀👀👀 Ms. Megaera......

Thank you so so much again, I love your writing and prose, and I'm sorry for only getting to it now, the app doesn't show me notifications for submissions, just asks ;w;

[jincherie]

lunacy | 01

☽ ● | members: seokjin x reader x jungkook ☽ ● | genre: poly, wolf au, mates au, college au, urban fantasy, angst, smut ☽ ● | wc: 10.7k+ ☽ ● | warnings: none in particular in this part! ☽ ● | notes: here is the first part ! I think this one is going to end up being one of the longer series, so pls send me an ask and lmk what kind of tropes/scenarios u love to see in wolf aus! i wanna make this as self indulgent as possible LMFAO

The entirety of your introduction and exposure to wolves has been at the hands of Jimin and Taehyung, who over the course of your study have arguably become your best friends. It isn't until they drag you to a party held at their packhouse that you meet the rest of their pack, though-- and once you do, thing's already aren't the same as they were before;...

Wolves mate for life, and wolves are almost exclusively monogamous. It's rare for a wolf to have a human mate, and even more unheard of for a wolf to have more than one mate. Unfortunately for you, an incident at this party lands you in the middle of every exception there could possibly be.

 — posted; 09.09.2020 | prologue ● next▸

The air is crisp and the plants coloured cool around you, but you're not cold.

You recognise this clearing you're in, but not from the waking world. No, you recognise it because just as it is right now, it has been the set of your dreamscape before. So it's familiar, as you gaze upon it, but at the same time something tingles under your skin in anticipation of the unknown that the shadows hold just beyond the treeline.

It must be early morning, you think to yourself, as you allow your gaze to slip to the sky. It's just fading out of the darkened caress of the night as you look upon it, tinting lighter with each breath you take. You love mornings, you recall with familiarity-- you especially love mornings like this.

There's a slight mist in the air. You don't notice it until you direct you gaze back down to the dewy earth, eyes captured by each patch of wildflowers and blotch of colour. It feels almost magical, really, but for some reason... that isn't the tone of this moment.

You don't know what it is, but something curls in your stomach a little like anticipation. What are you waiting for? You know you've seen this place before, but you can't remember when, or why...

At some point you've taken a seat in the meadow, and while a part of you expects dampness to seep into your skin, you remain safe and dry. It's comfortable. This is the nicest dream you've ever dreamt, a distant part of you surmises. You're just running your hands through the silky blades of grass and watching the dewdrops collect on your skin when a soft snap sounds far to your left.

You probably should be alarmed, but when you look up it's only in curiosity. What you see, again, should be cause for alarm-- but for some reason, the sight of the great, hulking wolf lingering at the edge of the treeline doesn't cause you anything but a flutter in your stomach.

It's not alone, you notice a moment later as something emerges from the shadows beyond it. There are two of them, both massive but one of them a little bigger than the other-- it is leaner and its limbs are longer, though, while the shorter one is thicker in its form, each limb corded with muscle.

For a moment they stare at you, and when you catch the golden hue of their eyes that gleams a little too bright to be natural, you realise they're not normal. Of course, within the walls of this dream you take it in stride.

The way they hover all the way over the other side of the meadow is almost... hesitant. You tilt your head, watching as they stay calmly in place. When you speak it's without even thinking, but you're not bothered by what comes out.

"You can come over here, you know?" you say, offering them a smile. How cool will it be if you can manage to make friends with two wolves! Regardless of their unnatural size and stature, and, now that you think about it, their colouring...

The first to move is the bigger one, its coat a gorgeous mix of sand and caramel, with streaks of white marking around its eyes and ears, as well as fitting around its front paws like boots. You'd noticed that he was a little leaner than the other earlier, but you're realising now as you watch him advance slowly that that doesn't mean he's any weaker. Each stride he takes makes dense muscle shift beneath his skin and fur, and you're slightly in awe of the power contained in his limbs as he moves.

The other wolf is no less magnificent to behold-- its fur is a curious blend of charcoal and ink, speckled with streaks and patches of dark chestnut that gleam rosy in the sunlight. Its eyes are the same unnatural amber as the other wolf's, but the way that they bore into you are oddly akin to that of a puppy.

You don't move when they come close enough that they're within reach, allowing them to move at their own pace. You're not left waiting long, though, before the smaller one trots closer, hesitation forgotten.

"Oh!" You're taken aback when it leans forward suddenly, shoving its massive, inky head against your shoulder with such strength you almost fall back, were it not for the other wolf flopping down behind you and supporting you with its massive form. Ordinarily you'd be worried you're about to be torn to pieces, especially when faced with its massive maw and large teeth, but when it rubs its head against you with a soft whine sounding from the back of its throat, you know it doesn't mean you any harm.

"Oh, you're a cute one," you murmur distractedly, allowing your hands to rise and sink into its fur. It brushes like silk against your skin, and the wolf is so pleased that it simply flops down against you, resting it's head in your lap and pushing it against your stomach.

Something lights up in you, something warm like you've settled close to the glow of a campfire and the heat is sinking into your bones. You're content, so content, and you don't even know why? But oddly enough, in this moment you're not really bothered by that.

Right as you begin to settle back into the warmth and the rhythmic lull of their breathing as they rest against you, something niggles in the back of your brain-- a shard of familiarity, do you know these wolves? How would you know these wolves?

"Who are you?" you find yourself mumbling tiredly, the world around you beginning to shrink back until your brain is only aware of you and the warmth pressed against you.

The wolf in your lap turns its head so that its large eyes are boring into your own. It's still, tail thumping once against the ground, but something stirs in the back of your brain at his gaze. Recognition that filters like sunlight onto little pieces of information in your brain until they merge into something coherent.

It dawns on you with a soft gasp-- you know them, you do. They're--

x - x - x

"Rise and shine, buttercup! I'm sick of having to silence your alarms for you! If you don't get up this time I can and will take photos of your sleeping face! You know, with your mouth all open and drool on your pillow--"

A groan escapes you that you don't quite recognise as a sound you can make, your eyes cracking open to the sight of your roommate's bright, grinning face very close to your own. The first conscious thought to cross your brain is that she does, in fact, look very punchable right now, bending over just so she can hover her face in front of your own with that shit-eating grin.

"Jihyo go away," you slur, sleep still having a very firm grasp on your brain and vocal cords. You slam your face into the pillow, yanking the duvet over your head. Your peace lasts all of 0.03 seconds before your demon of a roommate yanks the cover almost entirely off your bed, revealing your curled form to the cool air and making you whine.

"Why?" you whine, clutching the dinosaur pillow in your hold closer to your chest. "L'me sleep..."

"Nope, nuh-uh," Jihyo moves over to give you a firm smack on the ass, making you yelp and jerk out of your sleepy haze so harshly that you almost fall off the bed. Ow! "I snoozed your alarm for you five times this morning, buttercup. No more! Get up."

"Jihyo," you whine, giving her an accusing look over your shoulder as you rub your stinging behind. "You didn't even hit me where my skin was covered, you cow."

The girl simply shrugs, hands on her hips as she decides that her work here is done and begins to make her way to the door. "That's on you for wearing shorts to bed in autumn, bub. Anyway, you really do have to get up because it's like, what, nine-thirty? And you have a class at ten, so..."

At first you simply blink, her words ringing in your ears but not really sinking in, until they suddenly do and you're leaping from your bed with a yelp.

"Jihyo!"

She cackles, the absolute madwoman, and promptly exits your room. "Better hurry, buttercup!"

At her departure you fly into a panicked rush to get ready, darting around your room and grabbing things at the speed of light. You don't have time to dwell on the contents of the dream you'd been having before you were so rudely awoken, and as you fling yourself around your apartment the remaining slivers you remember of it slip from your brain and out of your grasp until the next time.

x - x - x

Regrettably, all your rushing didn't help you earlier; you still arrived late to class. Your only saving grace is that it was a lecture instead of an actual class, and the professor had been playing a video for the cohort when you arrived and so the lights had been conveniently dimmed for you to slip right in to the back unnoticed.

It actually ended only a few minutes ago, and now you find yourself walking distractedly on the way to your next class, mind lost in all the thoughts you didn't have time to entertain this morning. Fleetingly, the dream flicks through your mind-- what's left in your memory of it, anyway. You can barely conjure any of the details, or even what the two wolves looked like in whole, but the feeling it left behind lingers still in the pit of your abdomen.

You don't understand it. You've been having this dream almost every night for the past week, aside from the nights where you got too little sleep to remember your dreams. Ever since that night when Taehyung and Jimin dragged you to their packhouse, each night has greeted you with the same dream of two wolves in some meadow and you don't know why. Were they that impressionable? Were you so wowed by the sight of the wolves racing that you committed it to your memory subconsciously? Maybe… it’s a possible reason, but it doesn't feel like the reason.

It started as something small, but as the week progressed there was something, a feeling, a sensation, that grew inside you until it stirred restlessly beneath your skin, like now. You're not sure what it is. You feel like you need to be on the move, like there's somewhere you need to be, or you're forgetting something. But you've checked, and you haven't forgotten something, there's nowhere else you're meant to be. So this feeling stirring around your navel... you don't know what to do about it.

Then again, you ponder as you approach the building that holds your next class, perhaps it's just the weird feeling the dreams have been leaving you with that has been making you feel so odd and on edge.

When you enter, your attention is surprisingly not immediately captured by two particular loud men as it usually is the second you step foot in the room. Thanks to their annoyingly sharp senses, the two of them can usually smell you coming before you even reach the door. Admittedly, you're not sure if you're ever going to get used to being told that you have a smell, even if it's not in the usual insulting way. Something you're just going to have to get used to, though, considering you attend a university alongside many supernaturals, two of which are some of your closest friends.

Despite the fact that you weren't accosted upon entry this time, unlike how you usually are, the two boys you begrudgingly call friends are here, seated towards the back of the room. You wonder what stopped them from performing their usual ritual of behaviour as you approach them, but the answer comes to you when you see the light frowns on their faces and the slight bags under their eyes.

"Woah," you remark, taking a seat at the rounded table next to Jimin-- they start slightly at your appearance, ringing some alarm bells in the back of your mind. "You two look like shit. Are you okay?"

Taehyung makes a face, and Jimin gives you a smile that comes out more like a wince.

"We're fine," he says, reaching up to scrub his face with a hand. "Just... a little tired."

You tilt you head, wondering if they're going to tell you why of their own accord or if you're going to have to dig and drag it out of them. Taehyung must recognise the look on your face, because he's letting out a little huff of a laugh and enlightening you in the next moment.

"It's just... some of the members of our pack," he says, yawning. Your mouth falls open in realisation; ah, so it's a wolf thing. You're even more curious now, though. You love learning more about the creatures that walk among the population— plus, they're your friends so you feel like you should learn as much as you can about them.

"Are they causing trouble?" you ask, remembering the events of the other night with an odd shiver that isn't quite anything you can name.

Both males let out a laugh, quietening only as the tutor enters the room and lets out a greeting. Today's class isn't too interactive though, and for the majority of it you're left to your own devices to complete work at your own pace. As soon as the tutor is done telling you all the agenda, Jimin is speaking quietly from next to you.

"It's not that they're causing trouble," he says, tone soft and airy. You like his voice a lot, Taehyung's too— actually, from what you can remember, every single member of the pack had a nice voice. Is it a werewolf requirement or something? Jimin's dark eyes flit from the teacher to you, mouth twisting as though he's trying to figure out how to word what he wants to say next. "It's just that..."

"You know a little bit about wolves, and the hierarchy that runs in packs, right?" Taehyung continues in Jimin's place, blinking at you. You nod, holding your hand up to gesture that your knowledge is so-so at best. "Well, within a pack there are the usual ones you've probably heard-- the alpha, the betas, omegas."

"Ah, yeah, I've heard about that," you say, unable to help the way you lean forward in interest. Taehyung smiles wryly.

"Well, there's a little more to it than that. In our pack, Jiminie and I are deltas," he hums gaze flicking upwards as he ponders how to proceed. "So our role, when we fall back into our dynamics, is largely watching territory, but it also includes taking care of ill and wounded members of the pack."

"Two of the members are sick," Jimin says, turning to you a split second later. "The two that bowled you over, actually."

"Oh," you say, recalling the handsome faces of the two wolves that had inadvertently caused your drink to end up on you and you on the ground that night. "So, they're sick and you've been looking after them? So you're tired? They should be okay though, right? I mean, you're wolves. You bounce back quickly."

The two males share a look before turning back to you, voices still hushed so that you don't draw your tutor over to where the three of you are, most definitely not doing the work assigned.

"That's just the thing, though," Jimin says, a troubled expression crossing his features. "We're wolves, we don't really get sick. The only kind of sickness that gets us is a flu that has mutated from another supernatural creature, but even so... they should have been better by now."

"It's like they just keep slowly getting worse," Taehyung says, frowning. "Jiminie and I are running ourselves into the ground trying to keep up and monitor them. We just can't figure out what's wrong to get on top of it."

"Oh," you say, an unknown feeling welling up inside you. It's something like longing, with a certain twist of urgency. You don't know what drives you to say what you did next. "Well, uh... is there anything I can do to help? You guys look exhausted."

"You wouldn't mind?" Jimin asks, sounding surprised. "Even after the other night? I know it must have been scary."

"Well, I mean, a little bit," you admit, scratching the back of your neck. "But it was also cool as hell. Your wolf forms are so awesome, I kind of wish I got to see it sooner."

"You haven't even seen ours!" Taehyung says, a little louder than intended. When the three of you look up to catch the tutor giving you the stink-eye, you bow your heads and remain silent for a while to get him off your backs.

"For real though," Jimin says a while later, hand still scribbling answers to the activity even as he talks softly. "If you're serious about wanting to help, we'd really appreciate it. The others are all caught up with either schoolwork or other obligations so it's been a little exhausting."

"I don't mind," you say, offering the two a brief smile before going back to pretending to work. "I'm happy to help. Plus... I feel a little bad that I didn't get introduced to them properly, you know?"

Taehyung snorts softly, grinning down at the table. "Yeah, that's true. Thanks, y/n."

You offer him another smile, hoping that they can't sense the way your gut flutters and churns with an unnamed feeling. "Of course."

x - x - x

When you offered to give Taehyung and Jimin a hand with looking after their sick packmates, you were expecting to be making soup or something for them to take over. You weren’t, as it happens, expecting for the two of them to rock up at 6PM while you’re in the middle of a belated cardio workout (which was only happening because you have schoolwork that you were procrastinating at the time) to grab you and drag you back over to their pack dorm to actually, physically help out.

“Why is it every time I come here, I’m always being dragged?” you question, hints of a whine to your voice. They hadn’t even let you change! You’re still in your workout gear, which, granted, consists of just a singlet and tight, ankle-length exercise pants, and isn’t that risqué—but still! The weather is getting colder these days and so are you, right now! If it weren’t for the absolute furnace that is their body temperature and the heat of their hands on your arms, you think you’d be shivering.

“You’ve only been here twice, and this is the second time,” Jimin says dismissively, hand gripping your arm as he leads you up the stairs to their front door. You have a funny feeling in your gut that you can’t quite pin, similar to the last time you were here, but now you don’t even have time to dwell on it before you’re thrown into the pack dorm once more.

It’s much tidier than it was last time.

You’re taken aback by how clean and, well…spacious it is, now that there’s not drunk adolescent bodies crammed everywhere. It’s a very modern layout, as you noticed last time, and tastefully decorated. From what Jimin and Taehyung told you, most of the bedrooms are upstairs and the lowest floor contains most amenities like the kitchen, gym room, etcetera��

The door closes with a resounding thud behind you, and there is a call from beyond the hallway, where you recall the kitchen to be. You don’t think you recognise the voice, though.

“Tae, Jiminie, you’re back!” There is a pause, and something that sounds suspiciously like a sniff. Suddenly, you’re mortified to be the only human here again. “…Who do you have with you?”

Before you’re anywhere near composed enough to be meeting another member of their pack, the two devious bastards are pushing you forwards and around the corner, into the kitchen once more. You have a very sudden, terrible flashback to the last time you were in this kitchen and on instinct you’re scanning the room for a familiar raven-haired male.

To your relief, Yoongi isn’t anywhere to be seen—there is someone at the kitchen counter though, someone that you don’t recognise at all. You freeze, offering a sheepish grin as the two wolves you somehow call your friends hold you in place. Like you could even attempt to get away anyway.

The new figure is taller than Jimin, but not taller than Taehyung. His hair is dark, cherry red, but you can spy some regrowth coming through at the roots, and before you even see the rest of his face you can tell from his eyes and the creases at their ends that this man smiles a lot. You’re proven right when he easily returns the smile you’d flashed him earlier, shooting it at you like a sunbeam. It almost, honest to god, disorients you where you stand.

“Hey Hobi,” Taehyung greets, grinning brightly. “This is y/n, we brought her around at the last party but you were, ah… previously occupied.”

The man before you has the decency to flush slightly, a sheepish grin tugging his lips. You’ve never seen a heart-shaped smile before now, but you’re glad this attractive man was the first one to show you the light.

“Ah… right.” He chuckles, before placing the bowl in his arms onto the counter and offering you a hand. “Sorry to have missed introductions, especially when Tae and Jiminie talk so much about you! I’m Hoseok, but you can call me Hobi, or Hope if you’d like.”

Hope. It clicks together in your head and your own face flushes as you recall last time when they said he, Hope, was off practicing the karma sutra with someone. Mortified that you recalled that tidbit now of all times, you push it from your brain and try to focus on the other things he said.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you say, shaking his hand. You can’t help the way you grumble after though, giving Jimin and Taehyung a glare. “And I hope they haven’t talked too much. Every time I’ve heard them tell one of you about me, it’s always something humiliating.”

“Oh, like being caught watching Ouran Host Club in your lecture?” Hoseok asks, head tilting slightly as he picks the bowl back up. You wince instinctively, and he laughs. It doesn’t get any less humiliating every time you hear it.

“Yup,” you say, feeling very much like you wished you hadn’t agreed to help at all. “Something like that.”

He smiles, but thankfully doesn’t tease you further. Instead, he turns his attention to the two boys beside you.

“What did you bring her for?” he asks, curiosity the only thing you can identify in his tone. Jimin wastes no time in sealing your fate.

“She offered to help when we told her Kookie and Jin were sick!” he says, smacking your shoulder like a proud parent. It was almost a little too hard, and you cough slightly from the impact. Taehyung rubs a soothing hand over the place of impact, giving his brother a look. “So we brought her over, since the others can’t stay and you’re the only one that can run classes at the studio right now.”

Hoseok’s mouth forms an ‘o’, dark eyes flicking to you in surprise. “Oh, that’s very kind of you,” he remarks, flashing you another billion-watt smile. “Thank you, for that. We’re not usually this hopeless at caring for ourselves but one of the ones that’s sick is the one that usually cares for us so… we’ve kind of been running around like headless chickens, heh.”

You shrug, finally feeling a little more settled and a little less like you’d like to flee at the first available opportunity. You’re still very keenly aware of the fact that this is only the second—and first, in Hoseok’s case—time meeting these people, and it’s therefore a little awkward for you. But, to their credit, the way they’re just taking it in stride is really helping you feel less out of place.

Even though technically you hadn’t even planned on coming anywhere near here….

“It’s no problem,” you say, unsure how else to receive his words. He’s still smiling, though, so you’re guessing that he wouldn’t have been too bothered however you answered.

“How are they?” Taehyung asks, soft baritone brushing the air. There’s palpable concern in his voice, and when you glance his way his expression confirms it.

“Well,” Hoseok says, placing the bowl down on the counter again, except with a little more oomph this time. You’re beginning to grow curious as to what exactly is in there. “They’re not any better, but they’re not exactly any worse, either, so… I’m not sure how to answer. Although—”

He smacks his hand onto the counter, a wooden clatter following from the spoon in his grasp, and your eyes widen at the light gashes on the back of his hand. They’re open but not bleeding, as though they’re in the midst of healing, but they look like they were deep at some point. “—Jin has been getting a bit of an attitude, so it’s probably for the best that you brought her. The two of you are going to have to deal with him; she can deal with Kookie, if she needs to. He’s just been sulky.”

“Jin got an attitude?!” Jimin sounds incredulous, and you figure that whichever one is Jin mustn’t normally kick up much of a fuss if he’s reacting like that to the information. “What, why? Did one of you step on his paw again?”

For a moment, you think it’s just a figure of speech, like a wolf thing, but then Hoseok huffs and grumbles, rolling his eyes. “No! That was only once! No one went near his stupid paws this time. He’s been shifted ever since he started feeling sick but he’s only just started getting snappy. He’s a little testy right now… it’s why I was down here, making him stupid treats because he can’t eat human desserts in this form.”

Wait, so both of them… are wolves right now? You’re suddenly a little nervous, but do your best not to show it—somehow, despite the fact their senses are so much more advanced than yours and usually you’d be instantly found out, they’re a little too distracted with the issue currently on their hands to notice.

As though he can hear the slander being thrown around on the floors below him, there is a sudden long, muffled howl that pierces the air—the sound is weaker than you’d expect but still startles you, making you jump. As it ends, it’s followed by a thump and a series of thunks and rattles, like something had been knocked off a shelf. Hoseok rolls his eyes, and you put the pieces together and realise that must have been the wolf in question.

Jimin is wincing, reaching to take the bowl and spoon into his hands. “Uh, okay—we’ll keep an eye on him, and I’ll finish making his, uh… his scooby snacks. You can get going, I know you have a class ready to start in, like, ten minutes.”

Hoseok shoots his packmate a thankful look, more being said with his eyes than you’re privy to as a complete stranger. Now he’s relieved of his duties for the night,

“Thank you,” he says, passing Jimin the whisk that lay discarded at the other end of the bench. You then watch as he moves around the counter to grab what you quickly realise is a gym bag from its perch on the table. You half expect him to wave and then be on his way, but he halts partway towards the door, something on the tip of his tongue.

“If they don’t get better…” he trails off, brows furrowed. It’s in this moment that it really sinks in for you that their packmates must be quite sick for them to be so concerned, and you feel bad that you regretted being dragged here earlier. Jimin and Taehyung are your friends and they need help caring for their pack, their family. You feel crummy for opposing it even a little bit.

Hoseok shakes his head, brows furrowing further. “No, even if they do start to get better—I think we should call the Head Healer. This isn’t normal, and whether its some supernatural flu or something else I think they should know. I’ll tell Yoongi to call his dad, but be prepared to tell him in case he forgets.”

The two males beside you nod, Jimin’s orange locks bouncing from the fervour with which he did so.

“Will do,” Taehyung affirms, nodding towards the redhead. “We’ll take care of them in the meantime.”

Hoseok nods, expression lightening for a fraction of a second. His gaze is soon flitting back to you, a smile that makes your heart skip a beat on his lips. “It was a pleasure to meet you, despite the circumstances,” he declares politely, even if the gleam in his eye is anything but. It takes all of your willpower to keep a straight face. “I’d love to get to know you a little more sometime—”

“YAH get out of here you slimy—” Jimin is huffing suddenly, red-faced and outraged, waving his arms before darting forward to chase his packmate out. “Don’t speak to her like that! She’s off-limits! Do not put your dirty whore hands anywhere near—”

The two of them disappear around the corner, but the sound of Hoseok’s cackling and Jimin’s indignant yells reach you loud and clear anyway. As Jimin sees his packmate off at the door, Taehyung picks up the bowl and resumes where Hoseok left off, and you’re left wondering just how this night is going to go with two massive wolves upstairs needing to be cared for.

x – x

“Okay, so… here’s the plan.”

You listen attentively, fidgeting on the spot and wishing not for the first time that these two idiots had let you change before dragging you here to help out. The sweat has made your head itchy, and you’re trying so hard not to scratch it that you feel your hands trembling. Thankfully, the two wolves beside you remain none the wiser to your inner turmoil and the occasional stink-eye you throw their way.

“Me and Jiminie are gonna go deal with Jin-hyung,” Taehyung says, pausing as a loud thump echoes from the floor above. The three of you are standing at the foot of the stairs, and had been about to go up before the taller man halted you all to make a game-plan. “It… seems like it’s gonna be a two person job. I don’t know what his problem is…?”

He looks to the side to Jimin as he trails off, but his friend merely shrugs, no closer to knowing the source of his packmate’s behaviour than he is. Taehyung huffs, turning to you. “And you can handle Kookie. Just take his food up for him, apparently he’s just been sulky and he’s not aggressive in wolf or human form so you shouldn’t have anything to be worried about.”

You nod as he hands you a bowl of cooked and seasoned meat that makes even your mouth water from the aroma wafting with steam into the air. “Great. That really comforts me, thank you.”

Taehyung grins and Jimin rolls his eyes. “If he allows it, could you check his temperature when you go up there? I know we usually run hot, but we’ve noticed that with whatever sickness this is their temperatures fluctuate a lot. It’ll be really helpful if you can just tell us whether he’s warm or cold.”

You nod again, Jimin appearing satisfied with his instruction. Taehyung throws his hand in the air, almost dislodging the bowl in his hold as he does so. “Alright! Autobots, roll out!”

You simply turn to go up the stairs first, already hearing Jimin deliver his packmate with a firm whack for being an idiot. You reach the top of the stairs and pause, eyes sweeping across the hallway and the abundance of closed doors with little or no distinguishing characteristics. Well, shit.

“Last door on the right, y/n!”

Perfect. Off you go.

As you approach the end of the hallway, another door opposite the one you’re heading towards, the feeling that has been sitting dormant in your abdomen suddenly stirs to life. The tugging around your navel is more persistent than ever, leaving you confused and a little disoriented as you finally reach the last door on the right. To your surprise, there is a shuffling sound from the door opposite, on the left side of the hall, and a low, baleful whine that reaches you through the wood and makes your heart drop and clench. You don’t think you’ve ever reacted so strongly to, well, anything before.

Shaking your head and hearing the other two follow behind you in the hall, you grasp the doorknob of the door you’ve been directed to and ease it open, slipping inside as quietly as possible before closing it behind you. Taking a deep breath to calm yourself and attempt to smother the quickened pace of your heart before it’s beating gets too loud, you slowly look up from the door handle and survey the rest of the room.

It’s chic, a stylish combination of white and various cool greys across the room. The window is open but the dark curtains drawn, the breeze ruffling them ever so slightly and making you shiver as it reaches you from across the room. It’s nice, you admit to yourself, momentarily forgetting why you’re there. You’re quickly reminded once more, however, at the sight of the massive furry lump sprawled across the queen-sized bed. The main overhead light isn’t on, but the bedside lamps are and it’s enough to illuminate the wolf left in your care for the time being. There’s something about him that tickles familiarity in the back of your mind as you survey his form; his coat is a sleek mixture of ink and charcoal, fur illuminated dark chestnut where it falls beneath the light. You can’t quite put your finger on why you feel something stir inside you at the sight of him, this massive wolf sprawled across the bed, and for the time being you decide to give up on attempting to understand it.

Adjusting your hold on the bowl in your hands, you move closer to the bed, unable to help the way you keep admiring this wolf’s majestic form even as he faces away from you. You know this one is the member called Jungkook, but you can’t quite put a human face to the name to recall which wolf it was that bowled you over a week ago. 

Initially, you thought that he might have been asleep, but as you grow closer to the bed you hear the softest whimper enter the air, followed by a thin whine. You freeze, looking up just in time to see a large, heavy-lidded, amber eye watching you move. Distantly, you realise that this is the sort of sight that should be making you freeze in fear. Instead, the only thing you feel is something odd and foreign, curling warmly in the pit of your abdomen. You’re not sure what to do with it, and to be honest it gives you pause. 

“Uh, hey,” you say softly, feeling a little awkward. The wolf gives a huff, blinking his large eye somewhat owlishly—while he didn’t seem to really see you earlier, he appears to be registering your appearance now. “We’ve met before… I’m Taehyung and Jimin’s friend. They said that you guys were sick so I offered to help out…”

The wolf shuffles in place, looking a little more alert. Thankfully, as Taehyung had promised, he doesn’t seem aggressive or anything like that. Actually, he seems about the opposite—as he rises to a slightly more elevated position on the bed, now facing you, he lets out another long, low whine. It makes your insides clench with something like sympathy. You place the bowl where he can reach it and immediately the wolf starts devouring his meal.

There is a sudden yowl that pierces through the walls and makes you jump, but the wolf before you couldn’t be more unbothered. In the blink of an eye the bowl is emptied and licked clean, the wolf’s massive head lifting to pin you with a look that seems to say ‘what next?’. You move the bowl so it isn’t tipped, placing it on the bedside table next to a black Nintendo Switch console there. Before you can flounder too much, you recall Jimin’s instructions from earlier.

“Oh, I need to check your temperature, as well…” you inform him, still speaking softly. There is a bit of a commotion from beyond the bedroom door and you think you hear Taehyung holler something stupid, but can’t be sure. You decide to ignore it.

Tentatively, you reach your hand up, simply going for the wolf’s forehead or the closest thing to it. To your surprise, despite the minute nod that the wolf had offered you just before, now he seems to be moving his head just out of reach every time you come close. There’s a peculiar gleam in his big puppy eyes that you can’t quite decipher, almost something sly as you continue attempting to place the back of your hand against his head. His relentless shifting ends up with you leaning over the bed to reach him, and you realise a little too late just how unstable you are. Finally, he allows you to place your hand against his head, but it lasts for barely a second before the bed is shifting suddenly and then you’re falling onto the mattress with an ‘oof!’.

The wolf huffs, a massive arm laying over your hips and his head flopped down on your chest just below your breasts. You can feel your face heat in a combination of embarrassment, confusion, and fluster. For a moment, you’re too stunned to even move.

“What are you—” you can’t even finish a full sentence, you’re so flustered. “I only need to take your temperature! Let me up, please—”

You attempt to move, or even prop yourself on your elbows, and the wolf whimpers, pitifully, more of his weight bearing down on you. You pause before trying again and receiving the same reaction, this time with a mournful whine tacked onto the end.

“You’re a big baby,” you find yourself saying, tone much closer to exasperated scolding than you might have expected. “Are you really not gonna let me up?”

In response, you receive a huff and an adjustment of the wolf’s hold on you that makes it even more difficult for you to get up from the bed, his massive paw pressing into the mattress on the other side of you. When you let out a heavy sigh, he whimpers and butts his head against you, the action oddly affectionate.

“I can’t believe this,” you mutter, staring at the ceiling and wondering what on earth has just happened in the past few minutes. Since you can do nothing else, you take the opportunity to finally touch his forehead and take his temperature. He’s a little cool, but oddly doesn’t stay that way; it’s like you can feel him warming beneath your hand.

Really, you’re pretty much trapped right now. You’re not as scared as one might think you would be, and you don’t really know what you’re feeling in response to the situation. You do know that something flips and flutters inside you every time you move and you hear him whimper, or whine and snuggle closer. This wolf is almost the size of a bear and is snuggling all over you like a teacup puppy.

You’re not sure how long you lay in spot before your two idiot friends finally realise you’ve been gone a little too long for the menial tasks you were given and come knocking. The creak of the door easing open makes you jump slightly in surprise and the hackles on the wolf to raise ever so slightly.

“y/n, what is taking you so l—oh. Oh my gosh.”

Your head whips in the direction of the door, and a pleading look is already on your face before you can even think to muster it. Taehyung and Jimin stand stock still in the doorway, faces portraying an almost comical amount of shock. Jimin squints, rubbing his eyes as though he’s making sure he’s really seeing what he’s seeing. “Uh… what happened here?”

“He won’t let me up,” you grumble, face on fire. This is humiliating. The wolf huffs, like he’s talking back to you, and both Taehyung and Jimin’s eyebrows shoot up. “He’s sneaky. I just tried to take his temperature and….”

“Oh, right,” Jimin says, blinking rapidly. “How is it?”

“A little cold, but each time I check he gets warmer,” you inform him, the distant hilarity of the situation not lost on you as you calmly discuss the health and wellbeing of the wolf that currently has you pinned to his bed as a makeshift teddy bear. Jimin goes to take a step forward and a soft growl halts him mid-movement, the sound something you can feel rumbling from deep within the wolf’s chest.

“Jungkookie,” he scolds, gasping in affront. “Don’t be nasty.”

“Oh my god,” Taehyung mumbles to himself, something cheeky and mischievous that spells absolute trouble glimmering in his eyes. “This is fantastic—just wait until you’re human again, Koo. You’re not gonna live this down.”

Unimpressed, you send them a glare—some of your limbs are starting to fall asleep, maybe they could try and help you get out? Catching the look you send them, the two men share their own, and you can safely say you don’t quite like the tone of it.

They better not leave you here.

x – x – x

The next day finds you sprawled on your bed, feeling dead to the world.

True to their historically goblin nature, your two best friends had indeed left you there.

You’d found out later that it was because they knew they’d only be able to slip you out from under the wolf when he fell asleep (because apparently once he’s out, he sleeps like the dead, no matter the form). But until such a time as they actually came and retrieved you from beneath their sick, clingy packmate, you were incredibly annoyed with them. It had taken about an hour or so for the wolf, Jungkook, to fall asleep—about halfway through that you’d subconsciously keyed into the same plan as them and had begun carding your hands through his fur in an attempt to lull him to sleep faster. It had worked, and you don’t want to think about how dead your limbs would be if the wolf had taken any longer to fall asleep.

In all, the ordeal was incredibly embarrassing and your only saving grace is that Taehyung and Jimin were too busy planning how to tease their youngest packmate to tease you. Which is lucky because, wolf or not, if they’d teased you then you might have killed them.

You didn’t get back until around midnight, since you’d stayed a bit longer to help Taehyung and Jimin cook and prepare some stuff in case the two wolves woke up worse. As soon as your head hat hit the pillow, you’d knocked right out. Shamefully, you slept so deep and long that you missed your alarm for your morning class and woke up closer to lunch, which is where you are now.

Laying in bed with aching eyes and wishing that you didn’t have another class in another two hours.

Jihyo hadn’t even questioned where you went for so long last night, but also hadn’t made a joke about you finally getting some so you figure she’s waiting to pounce on you later. You find she’s already left for the day, when you finally wrangle yourself from bed and attempt to resume life as a functioning human being. So you’re safe until at least this afternoon, when she finishes her shift at the university second-hand bookstore. You can probably remain safe for longer if you study at the library and come home when she goes to her pilates class.

You’re shamefully good at evading her, at this point. You’d feel bad if it wasn’t a skill you’d learnt for survival.

You took your time a little too much while getting ready for your class, and it made you run so late that for the time being even you completely forgot about the events of last night. Well, you did until you enter your classroom and are greeted by two loud hollers of your name. Honestly, do they have no shame? Do attractive people even feel shame?

“Shut up,” you grumble half-heartedly as you take your seat between them, resisting the urge to rub your eyes since you’d put on mascara earlier. One of many things that had almost made you late. “You’re so loud.”

You complain, but secretly you’re glad for the noise—it means they’re feeling better, and things must also be improving at the pack dorm. When you finally raise your eyes to survey their faces, you find them displaying an odd mix of emotions. Like they’re glad, relieved, but at the same time still concerned about something.

“So… how are things at the dorm?” you inquire tentatively, making the most of the time you have before your tutor arrives and begins the class; it seems you aren’t the only one running behind today.

Taehyung lets out a huff, resting his cheek in his hand with a wry smile. “Well, Jungkookie is much better. You must have a magic touch because he was up and back into his human form this morning. He wanted to go to his classes but Namjoon made him stay back because he’s still not completely better.”

“On the other hand,” Jimin continues, without the need of prompting. “Seokjin… well, it’s almost like he’s the same as before, slowly getting worse. We can’t figure out what is wrong with him and why his condition isn’t turning around like Jungkook’s is.”

Ah, now you understand their expressions. They look about as confused as you feel, too. It doesn’t leave you with a very good feeling, if they’re the experts in this area and even they’re stumped for an explanation.

“We got Yoongi to call his dad, though. I heard them on the phone before we left so I suppose we’ll hear what he recommends when we get back.”

You hum to acknowledge what he said, opening your mouth to respond but deciding against it when you see the tutor hurtle into the room, out of breath and frantic.

“Sorry I’m late, everyone! If you could please all open your books to this week’s chapter, I will begin with the slides in just a moment!”

x – x – x

Considering that what you’d heard from your two wolf friends was that one of their packmates was on the mend and the other less so, you hadn’t really expected to hear anything else from them. That proves to be the exact opposite of what happens, though.

At quarter to three in the morning, you’re woken to sharp, persistent banging on your front door—the kind that makes you scared that the door is actually going to break beneath the force of the blows raining down on it. You tear out of your bed and stumble down the hall to answer it, knowing that if Jihyo has to get up to do it she’s going to tear you a new asshole.

“WHAT?!” You snap, not even seeing properly through the bleariness in your eyes but knowing in your heart there’s only two people ballsy enough to come bust your door down at this hour in the morning. “Are you trying to get me killed?! Jihyo still hasn’t forgotten about the last time you came over and ruined her sleep!”

Jimin has the decency to look somewhat sheepish, but Taehyung simply looks distressed. “Look, I’m not gonna say I’m sorry because I’m not, but we really need you to come with us right now.”

You blink, reaching to rub your eyes and feeling a strand of your hair flop into your face in response. You just know it looks like something made at the hands of Jackson Pollock right now. “What? The hell? Do you mean?”

It’s Jimin’s airy tone that reaches you this time, lowering your hackles ever so slightly. “No, he’s lying, we are sorry, it’s just—it’s an emergency. Something happened and we need your help to test a… a theory, if you will.”

You stare at him, willing his words to make sense in your sleepy brain. “I don’t understand.”

“That’s fine,” Taehyung says; and then in the next second he reaches and grabs you around the waist, slinging you over his shoulder. “We just need you to come. Can you lock up so she doesn’t kill us, Jiminie?”

You’re too stunned to even say anything as you hear Jimin lock your front door behind you, Taehyung already beginning to move post-haste down the apartment building hallway with you over his shoulder. When you finally catch-up to the events of the current moment, you instantly curse the blonde man out. “Hey, what the fuck—I can walk! Put me down! Put me down or I’ll go straight back home!”

“No way,” Taehyung argues, already exiting the building with you in tow. “You’re just gonna go back no matter what, if I put you down. I saw that look in your eyes, the one you get when you’re about to slam the door in our faces. We really need you to come, y/n.”

You blink, trying to remember if you planned on closing the door in their faces. It was only a few moments ago, but you’re still half-asleep and can’t remember for the life of you. A part of you wishes to speak up and deny his words, but for however outraged you are right now you’re still attuned to the words he’s saying and the vocal cues that accompany his speech. It gives you pause, because he seems really, genuinely distressed right now.

“What happened? What’s going on?”

Jimin has since caught up to the two of you and is opening the car door, preparing the back seat for your entry—you haven’t seen this one before, so you presume it must belong to one of the older pack members. “It’s Jin-hyung and Kookie.”

“What?” Confusion combines with sleepiness to make you sound like the stupidest person on earth. “I thought they were getting better? Or at least Jungkook was—”

“We thought so too,” Taehyung says, finally putting you down and patting your head in a makeshift apology. You decide that killing him can wait for later.

“And then… tonight happened.”

As the two of them climb hurriedly into the car and buckle up to send you all on your way to the pack dorm, they fill you in on the events of the evening. While Jungkook had shown a marked improvement over the day, it was like a switch had flipped as soon as night fell and the moon emerged from below the horizon. He relapsed to a worse state than he was in last night, and Seokjin’s condition apparently worsened as well. Alarmed and not having a single idea what to do, they’d called in Yoongi’s father who had spent a large majority of the night attempting to diagnose them and prevent their condition from worsening. Only around half an hour ago had he put together a theory as to what was wrong with them, after all the pack members filled him in on everything they could.

“Wait so—Yoongi’s dad? The healer…?” you wait for their nods of confirmation before continuing. “He thinks it has something to do with me? Wait, if that’s the case should you even be bringing me back?! What if I make them worse again! God, I knew I shouldn’t have rocked up to the party last week…”

“No, well—I mean—” Jimin flounders for what to say, cutting himself off when he comes close to saying something and giving you the sense that there is another element to this that they’re not telling you. You have half a mind to demand to know, but you also recognise it could also be a wolf thing that you have no business knowing. “Don’t worry, if the head healer of our pack is calling you back, it’s not because he thinks you’re the thing making them sick.”

That does ease you, admittedly. Just a bit. You yawn, catching movement outside your window and realising with a startle that you’re already at the pack dorm. Instantly, for reasons barely known to you, your stomach erupts into a live bundle of nerves. You’re so baffled by it that you don’t even notice as the car pulls to a stop and your door is being opened in the next second by a perplexed Jimin.

“Are you alright?”

You give him a stinky look to save face as you climb out of the car, pretending your legs aren’t wobbly. “You’re asking that now?”

At the attitude in your voice the expression of concern slips right off his face and he snorts, looping his arm through yours and dragging you up the path to the pack dorm for the third time in a week. “Oh good, you’re alright. Hurry up now, I can hear them howling like pups from here.”

You go to bite back with a response but pause, because the second you tune into your ears you can hear it too. It’s mournful, the way the howls pierce the air. Baleful, especially when paired with the scenery of the almost-full moon hanging above the trees. Again, you’re not scared, just oddly… nervous. As in, full of nerves. It’s as though there are a thousand bees buzzing in your abdomen, and the network of nerves and synapses in your body have turned to live wires beneath your skin, thrumming and prickling with energy.

What does your subconscious seem to know that you don’t?

The howls are amplified the second you enter the house and there is no longer several inches of thick wall muffling their piercing resonance. They seem to be upstairs once more, on the side of the house that you didn’t venture into last time. Now that you’re close enough, you can distinguish that it’s not only pitiful howls breaking the air, but soft whimpers and whines, as well. Something about it, the quality of the sounds brushing your ears, makes your eyes prick with tears. It’s almost like…. Grieving. Like they’re calling out for something or someone that isn’t coming.

“Wow, they’re somehow even louder than when we left,” Jimin remarks, already dragging you towards the stairs and beginning on the climb up. “For wolves that are so sick they sure do still have a pair of lungs on them.”

You’re too busy remembering the fact that you’re currently dressed in the same shorts and singlet combo you’ve been in all week, and that you’re in a house full of men (and wolves, but you digress) to offer a response. Your arrival at the top of the stairs brings you to the sight of a number of men at the end of the hall, gathered together and muttering amongst themselves. You recognise all but one, and figure that the unfamiliar older gentleman must be Yoongi’s father as you’d heard of him.

“We brought her,” Jimin announces, though you doubt it was very necessary since they could probably smell you coming from the driveway. “Are they doing any better?”

Yoongi leans around Namjoon to deliver the younger with a deadpan look. “Listen for yourself.”

Right on cue, there is another round of pitiful howling, the noise tugging at something deep inside you. Why did it make you want to go to them? Are your instincts broken? That seems like a crazy reaction to have. Perhaps you should go get yourself checked out after this ordeal, though you’re unsure which professional you should be seeking out.

Jimin winces. “Alright. So they’re not doing much better at all.”

The new character, Yoongi’s dad, steps forward and reaches out to shake your hand. “Hello, you must be y/n. I’m Yunho, the Head Healer of this pack. I’m so sorry to have brought you out here at such a late hour.”

Now that everyone’s attention is on you, and Yunho looks so genuinely apologetic (you see the relation to Yoongi in the kind set of his features) you find your earlier anger at being awoken and dragged here fizzling out for good. Somewhat meekly, you manage to respond, “It’s fine. If I can help then I don’t mind at all.”

The older man smiles at your words, appreciation in his tone as he thanks you. “We’re really grateful, for that. Now, if you don’t mind, all I want you to do is just… go into the room with them.”

You blink, Taehyung and Jimin already having begun guiding (read: dragging) you to the room in question. “Pardon?”

Yunho seems slightly amused and sheepish. “I… have a theory, as to what is wrong with these two. I will inform you of everything after we test it out, but would you be able to go in, for now? Please?”

You’re not exactly in a position to refuse, not that you really want to anyway. As silly as it is, if going into the room where the wolves are is something that will somehow actually help them, then you’ll do it. Especially because you don’t think you can handle much more of their baleful howling—they seem miserable.

“Yeah, okay. Of course.” You shake your limbs out, shrugging your arms out of your friends’ grips and shooting them a glare for manhandling your again. They have the decency to appear slighty apologetic.

The entire pack in the hallway parts to let you through, like a sea of wolves. The room they direct you to is the one opposite of the one you went into last night, the one where the rowdy wolf that Jimin and Taehyung took care of had been. Taking a deep breath, you push the slightly ajar door open, biting your lip in anticipation of what you will see on the other side.

It’s a room similar in shape to Jungkook’s, but with blues and yellows mixed into the scheme of whites and greys. It is, put simply and as objectively as possible, a mess. You can see where things have been knocked off of shelves and desks, and some items (namely one of the bed posts) have been chewed up and left disfigured. It looks like a house with remnants of a temper tantrum from a puppy left alone too soon. They aren’t on the bed, which is oddly bare, and you see why a moment later when you catch sight of them huddled together on the floor, the size of small bears but shaking and whimpering so pathetically that you don’t feel even a shred of fear as you gaze upon them. A rumpled mixture of fluffy blankets and duvets are beneath them in a makeshift nest, some of them still attached to the bed and tucked underneath the end of the mattress.

You’re not sure what you expected when you stepped into the room, but it wasn’t for the two wolves to fall dead silent upon your arrival. You freeze, unsure how to proceed until there is a nudge at your back, and you turn over your shoulder to see Yunho giving you an encouraging look.

“Just go over to them, it will be okay. They won’t hurt you.”

You didn’t realise that was a fear you had until his words soothed it, and you take another deep breath to steel yourself before following his directions. You can’t tell whether the wolves are awake, or in that feverish place between sleep and waking, but the closer you get the less restless they seem and the less noises tumble from their jaws. Unsure what they want you to do when you reach the wolves, you turn back with a questioning look. Already, at the silence in the room, Yunho has a relieved look on his face. He makes a hand movement, gesturing for you to take a seat, and you see several heads pop around the doorframe to watch as you do so.

Blushing madly and pretending that you’re not as embarrassed as you are, you sink to your knees in front of the two wolves, eyes scanning over the one you hadn’t seen before today.

Seokjin, if you recall correctly; the eldest in the pack (well… this little subgroup of the larger pack, anyway), and the other wolf that bowled you over that day. A sense of familiarity washes over you as you view him, too, despite the fact you don’t think you’ve ever seen him in his wolf form before. His coat is sandy and light, caramel-hued in some places with accents of white around his eyes and front paws. Again, you can’t quite place where you’ve seen him before, but you know deep down that you have. The same goes for Jungkook, who appears extra dark next to his lighter packmate. Each of their heads is larger, broader than one of your thighs, something you become acutely aware of as you shuffle closer on your knees. Two barely-seeing sets of amber eyes watch your every movement.

Just when you go to look back and see what they want you to do next, there is shuffling from in front of you that captures your attention instead; a whimper escapes Jungkook, but Seokjin is the one that is moving, lifting his head and craning it forward until his moist nose skims your knee, sniffing tentatively. Whatever you smell like must confirm something for him, because in the next moment he’s letting out a low whine from the back of his throat and struggling forward, butting his head against you before rubbing the side of it along your thigh. You don’t have words to describe how hot your face is right now. Just when you think it can’t get any more embarrassing, the darker wolf gains a sudden burst of energy and lurches forward, snapping his teeth around the edge of your shorts leg and tugging lightly.

“Wh—” you don’t even have the brain space to finish whatever you were going to say, too busy shuffling forward and trying to make sure this wolf doesn’t pants you in front of the rest of the pack who are—as you confirm with an alarmed look over your shoulder—still watching everything unfold. The wolf, Jungkook, doesn’t stop tugging until you’re nestled deep between their two bodies, their temperatures rising each second you spend there, and as soon as he releases his teeth from the material of your shorts, Seokjin’s body is tilting and his head is coming to press against you and trap you in.

This is ridiculous. Is this actually happening? Are you not still at home, dreaming?

Your alarmed look is directed at the rest of the pack mates and Yunho once more, the older man letting out a sigh and wincing lightly. The rest of the members seem an odd mix of relieved and baffled. It does not soothe you one bit.

“Okay… y/n, there’s something we need to talk to you about.”

a/n: here it is! pls let me know what u think, feel free to come scream in my inbox and leave a like & reblog!! it means the world to me!! i might not always get to respond to all of them, but i do read every single one-- reread, even. thank u for reading this and for always supporting me! love u!! <3

[kuroopaisen]

tiny love || ii

➵ as tooru’s younger sister, falling in love with iwaizumi hajime is easy. your feelings aren’t ignored, either. but is it worth the complications it could cause?

warnings: f!reader, mentions of depression/implied depiction of depression

wc: 2.9k

m.list | ch. 1 ↞ ch. 2 ↠ ch. 3 

last time... 

He leant in, pressing his lips against yours softly. You froze, every nerve in your body now on high alert.

Iwaizumi Hajime? Kissing you? No way. No. Better yet, your first kiss? You had to be dreaming. There was no way this was happening.

And yet the burning of your cheeks, the swelling of your heart, the feeling of his lips pressed against yours all said otherwise. This was happening.

✧ ✧ ✧

You’d half-convinced yourself that it was all a dream. There was no way Hajime had kissed you last night. No way he’d looked at you like that – like you were the most delightful thing he’d ever seen.

It sounded far too good to be true.

But the smile he’d given you in the morning told you otherwise.

It was so gentle, so honest. There’s a softness in his eyes that you’ve only caught a few times before, and each time he knew you could see it, he had always looked away.

But this morning was different. Because last night had been different.

Because he’d kissed you.

The two of you were in the kitchen, Iwaizumi with a cup of milk in hand and you empty-handed. You had intended to come and get yourself some breakfast, but you weren’t sure if you could stomach it now. Not with all these butterflies crashing around in there.

You hadn’t even said anything to each other – just looking at him was enough to make you feel like you were going to melt into a useless puddle. 

He nodded to the kitchen counter. You followed his gaze to a mug, the string and tag of a tea bag dangling over the side. One look at the tag and you knew it was your favourite. 

Oh. He remembered. You weren’t even sure if you’d told him that detail, but he’d paid enough attention regardless. 

You bit the inside of your cheek, casting your eyes to the ground.              

Come on, you thought, at least say thank you. You’ve spoken to him plenty of times before. If anything, you should be less nervous now – he’d kissed you. Kissed you! That meant that he must like you a little bit, right?

Your heart bloomed in your chest, spreading a feeling like static throughout your body. At the very least, you could say good morning. And you knew – you just knew – that he would smile at you again. That’s enough motivation.

You took a deep breath, finally lifting your eyes back up.

“Are you alright?” Tooru’s voice popped your bubble. He was standing just to your left, bread bun in hand and cheeks puffy like a squirrel’s.

“Hm?” You tried to pay him no attention; you absolutely didn’t want to give Tooru a reason to tease.

“You look sick.”

Of course. You shot him a glare, the dreamy look on your face morphing into a scowl. “Oh, thanks?”

“What?” Tooru whined, mouth full of bread.

“You’re being rude.”

Tooru scoffed, swallowing in one big gulp. “I am just a concerned brother, I don’t know why you’re demonizing me—”

You rolled your eyes, stalking over to the kettle.

Chances were a conversation with Hajime was likely out of the question, at least for today. You didn’t want to just announce this… thing between you to Tooru.

You’d just text him later.

✧ ✧ ✧

“Here,” he smiled, holding your boba out to you. He knew your favourite order like it was his own. That enough made your heart go wild.

“Thanks,” you blushed, letting your fingers brush against his as you took the cup from him.

You caught a glimpse of colour in Iwaizumi’s cheeks, and your heart fluttered.

He stabbed his straw into his boba and brought it to his lips.

He had such nice lips. They weren’t particularly big or striking, but they were nicely shaped. They complimented his face, balancing well with the rest of his features. And best of all, they were softer than—

You snapped your eyes away, heat flooding through your face.

God, you were embarrassing. This was embarrassing.

The two of you had already kissed. Why were you so damn awkward. Surely, you could hold his hand. That usually came before kissing for most couples. You might be working backwards, but that was okay, right?

“Hey, uh… Hajime?” Your throat was dry, your hands clammy.

“Hm?”

You took a deep breath, clenching your fists. This was still harder than you’d given it credit for. Even if you had crossed other lines, this was still more exciting than it should be. “Can I hold your hand?”

There’s a moment of silence. A long silence.

Had you said something wrong? Was this moving too quickly? But he’d kissed you…

“Ah, that’s…” He said finally. You caught your breath. “That’s probably not a good idea.”

“Oh…” You tried to swallow down the weird little lump in your throat. “Okay.”

“Not, uh…” He cleared his throat, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Not until we’ve told Oikawa.”

“Right,” you nodded. You fought the urge to shake off your disappointment, to stretch out the fuzziness in your hands.  

You’d get there eventually, you told yourself. One of these days, you’d walk hand-in-hand with Iwaizumi Hajime, happy and giggly and open about your feelings.

You couldn’t wait for that day.

✧ ✧ ✧

“Where’s Hajime?” You asked, juice box in hand and frown on your face.

“He said he needed to study this weekend,” Tooru yawned, stretching his arms above his head.

You did your best not to pout.

Other than your Tuesday walks, Friday was the only other opportunity each week to spend time with him without it being too obvious.

But he wasn’t there this Friday.

A little knot sat at the bottom of your stomach, small enough to be ignored, but heavy enough to give you pause.

You shook your head, frowning.

No, you were being silly. He was just busy this weekend – and perhaps you should be, too. There was no reason for you to be so worried.

Not when he’d given you no real reason to be.

✧ ✧ ✧

It’s been almost two weeks since he’d kissed you.

It’s been four days since he’d had a proper conversation with you.

On reflection, he had been a little weird on Thursday. His texts had been drier than usual – and he was already a pretty dry texter. Then, he hadn’t come over to your house on Friday like he usually did.

And then, he hadn’t texted you at all over the weekend.

That little knot in your stomach from Friday had gotten tighter, bigger, more demanding.

It’s like he was hiding you away. Some part of you – a part you very much wanted to throttle – feared that he was doing so because he was ashamed. That being seen with you would be embarrassing. Not that he’d given you any reason to think that, but the worry just wouldn’t shift.

The more logical part of your brain knew he was doing it so Tooru wouldn’t see you together. That alone is enough to root a deeper, more violent anxiety through your stomach.

But he had to walk you home today. You didn’t feel like he’d bail on that, at least.  

To your relief, he was waiting for you at the school gate.

But as you made your way to the boba shop, he didn’t say much. He wasn’t the most talkative of people, but even this was quiet for him.

And when he was purchasing both your drinks, he made no comment about your financial ‘situation’. The most you could get out of him were some anecdotes from practice or what assignments and exams he had coming up.

And as you walked on, the stretches of silence grew longer. Usually, you wouldn’t mind them, but these days…

Hajime sighed, slowing to a stop. You shuttered to a stop after him, only just becoming aware of your surroundings.

To your left, the mountains. To your right, some rocks and a wall. In front of you, Hajime.

This was familiar. This spot, this boba, this afternoon.

But something was distinctly off. This wasn’t your typical outing to go look at the mountains. This was different.

You bit the inside of your cheek. So, he was of the same mind as you.

“So,” you sighed, sitting yourself down on the rocks. It was warm to the touch, likely from basking in the summer sun all afternoon. Hajime remained standing, his eyes trained on the mountains.

You didn’t know what you wanted to say. Hell, you didn’t even know what there was to say. Was this his way of telling you he wasn’t interested? Was that it? You’d never really been involved like this with a guy before, so the potential was there. Was this just standard practice for boys?

“How are you?” Hajime asked, a strange stiffness in his voice. There was usually a bit of tightness in his face, a light scowl or a look of intense concentration. But even he looked tenser than usual.

“I’m okay,” you lied. You took a moment to try and catch his eye. He wouldn’t look at you. “How about you?” You asked, hoping to alleviate at least some of the awful atmosphere that had begun to cloud around the two of you. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.”

Perhaps you were being more polite about it than you should’ve. Perhaps you should’ve stormed up to him with a vengeance, demanding to know why he was suddenly ignoring you after taking your very first kiss.

But you just didn’t have the guts to do that. Not at seventeen.

“Yeah…” Hajime mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. “I’ve been busy.”

You were well-aware that it wasn’t entirely a lie. He was Seijoh’s ace after all. And his studies were becoming more and more important. You knew as much.

He still wasn’t looking at you.

You bit your lip, looking down at your skirt. You took a deep breath, placing your boba on the ground next to you.

“Hey, Hajime… I think we should talk,” you swallowed, your heart stuttering in your chest. “About…”

“I know.” He cleared his throat, looking up at the sky.

“Yeah…” You braved a glance at him.

His jaw was tense, his brow furrowed in that familiar knot.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Hajime?” You murmured, clenching your fists in your lap. You wanted to reach out to him, to place a comforting hand on his back. But your instincts were at war with one another, unsure of what to do.

He looked at you for the first time. There’s something like torment behind his eyes. Hopelessness, conflict, regret. It felt like something really terrible had happened – was about to happen.

It felt like your ribs were about to crack.

“Look, I…” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I think it’s best if we pretend this never happened.”

The world shuttered to a stop. The mild afternoon sun was now searing your skin.

“What?”

“There’s too much that could go wrong.” His response was instantaneous – a little too quick by your count.

“What are you talking about?” You asked, twisting your skirt in your fists.

He was quiet for a long moment, still looking at the sky. “What if we broke up?”

You froze, objections dying in your throat. It was a fair question. But you weren’t sure if it was entirely relevant.

“We haven’t even given it a shot yet,” you murmured, trying to swallow down the discomfort brewing in your chest.

“And it’s best if we don’t.” His voice was firm, blunt. It’s the voice he used when trying to get through to Tooru.

Tooru…

“Did he say something to you?” You asked quietly, closing your eyes. If your brother…

“He doesn’t know.” Hajime knew exactly what you were talking about. “And it’s best if he didn’t.”

“Why not?” There’s something else brewing in your chest, not unlike indignation.

“One of the guys asked him about you,” Hajime said, his voice spread thin.

“They did?” You frowned. You knew who ‘the guys’ were. But you hadn’t spent enough time with the volleyball team for you to actually know what any of them were like. Although, you were only fixated on Hajime. That might have something to do with it.

“Yeah…” Hajime nodded. “And he was pretty mad.”

Really? Tooru had the gall to get angry at the fact a boy expressed interest in you? That’s why Hajime wanted to call this off?

“Are you scared of him?” You snapped before you could stop yourself.

He sighed. “It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?” Your response was quick, sharp, irritated. But if Hajime caught onto that, he didn’t say.

“It’s just…” He sighed. “It could get messy.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to still the barrage of questions you had. This didn’t make sense. Why would he—

“I don’t want to lose both of you.” His voice was soft, fragile. More fragile than you’ve ever heard it be.

“I—” You didn’t know what to say to that.

“What do you think he’s going to do if he thinks I’m messing around with you?”

Your chest ached. “Messing around?” The corners of your eyes were starting to sting.

“I don’t mean it like that—”

“Is that what you saw it as?”

“No.” He almost shouted that. Your breath caught in your throat as you met his eyes. “But he will.”

You understood.

God, you understood.

Hajime was scared that you thought he was using you. That he was playing with your feelings and leading you on. Worse yet, he was frightened that Tooru would think that way, too.

Would Tooru perceive it as a betrayal? Would your relationship cause conflict in their friendship? Would you fuck everything up by getting involved?

Tooru trusted him more than anyone. You knew how much Hajime meant to him.

And you knew that Hajime wasn’t going to throw that away for a crush.

You took a deep breath. Your throat had grown painfully dry, and your stomach was starting to swell. You needed to get home.

“Alright,” you said, standing to your feet.

Hajime stared at you for a moment, a strange brew of emotions in his eyes. You didn’t have the energy to try and work them out.

“Thank you, Iwaizumi,” you mumbled, giving him a quick bow. “Thank you for being honest with me.”

He was silent for a long moment as you bent down to pick up your boba. The boba he’d bought you. He hadn’t teased you for your lack of funds today. Had that been a preemptive apology?

“I’m sorry,” he said, finally.

It didn’t feel like enough.

“Yeah,” you mumbled. You didn’t look at him as you turned around, already plotting your walk home without him. Surely he’d understand that you needed to be alone right now.

He didn’t chase after you. Not as you walked away. Not as you threw your unfinished boba into a bin. Not as you held back the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, fists clenched at your sides.

A weight pressed inside your chest, something so heavy and immovable that you knew you couldn’t keep it down this time. The bitterness you’d been trying to stifle for years bled through your ribs, rippling through your body.

Tooru got everything.

He got the passion, the drive, the direction.

He got all the attention, the opportunities, the praise.

He got Hajime.

✧ ✧ ✧

The cool touch of porcelain in the pitch dark was more soothing than you’d given it credit for.

You hadn’t known what else to do. If you were in your room, chances were someone could walk in – especially if you turned all the lights off and hid under your covers.

Admittedly, hiding in the bathroom with all the lights turned off was no less suspicious. But there’s something comforting about the cold and dark. Your brother had been onto something all those years ago.

When you were younger, you’d found Tooru sitting in the bathtub, knees drawn up to his chest while he cried.

He’d been fourteen at the time. You were barely thirteen.

You hadn’t known what to do – the first thing you did was run for Hajime.

That’s what you’d always done when it came to Tooru. You always turned to Iwaizumi – without fail, that was your answer to almost every issue. It was the only thing you could think of, even to this day.

The light flickered on. You flinched, your eyes screwing shut at the sudden assault on your retinas.

Someone yelped. It wasn’t you.

You whipped your head round, squinting at him.

“What are you doing in here?” Tooru asked, face marked mainly by confusion but not without a hint of concern.

“Just… sitting,” you said, blinking a few times.

There was no way you’d tell him why you were here. Something in you felt like that’d be wrong; that, maybe, you’d be betraying Iwaizumi’s trust.  

“What happened?” Tooru asked, his voice soft and tender. He crouched down besides the bathtub, propping his elbows on the ledge.

You shook your head, looking away from him.

“You can tell me,” Tooru pouted. “Do you need me to beat someone up for you?”

“No,” you choked, cursing yourself for the crack in your voice. “I’m… I’m fine.”

“You don’t look it.”

You glared at him, sniffling. God, you must look pathetic.

“Hey,” Tooru held his hands up. “I’m just being honest.”

You let out a long sigh, rolling your shoulders.

“I’m just tired,” you mumbled, squeezing your eyes shut.

“You sure?” Tooru said, concern heavy in his voice. “I’m here for you.”

“Thanks, Tooru,” you sighed.

You couldn’t tell him. Even if he offered to support you, offered to beat up anyone who broke your heart.

Because the very person that had broken your heart was the very same boy who pulled him up off the ground. 

[stardust-kenobi]

Let Me Help You

Obi Wan x Reader

Summary: Obi Wan isn’t very tech-savy, and he wants you to help him with his computer while you two sit in the Jedi Temple library. You offer your assistance, and decide to help him in other ways, too.

Warnings: smut, dub-con!!, male oral receiving, public oral sex

Word count: 2k

A/N: ⚠️please DO NOT read if you’re uncomfortable with dub-con. It’s not for everyone. (In this specific plot it’s used because Obi Wan is trying to be a good Jedi) Consent is slightly more clear right before the act.

This was requested by anon! Thanks lovely, hope you enjoy 💕

(my gif)

Obi Wan’s face became more frustrated by the second. You sat across from him in the Temple library. You’d joined your friend today because he wanted the company while he completed some tasks undoubtedly related to his Jedi duties. 

“You alright?” You inquired, attempting to withhold a giggle at the sight of a man who is so usually calm becoming annoyed at technology.

“This datapad is going to drive me mad” he huffed. His fingers furiously tapped away at his attempted tasks.

“Sounds like a user-error” you teased him while continuing to stare at him. He looked up at you, obviously trying not to smile back. “And it’s a desktop computer, so, not technically a data pad” you jokingly corrected him.

“Well, whatever it is, it doesn’t like me very much” he remarked and returned his attention to the illuminated screen.

“What exactly are you trying to do?”

“I’m trying to navigate the archives here but it keeps telling me I’m typing in invalid coordinates” his voice grew more annoyed.

“Would you like my help?” You offered kindly

“No, that’s not necessary.” He politely declined.

You waited, not responding, knowing he’d change his mind after another failed attempt. His eyes shot upward at you across the table and quickly looked back down, but then hesitantly returned to your gaze.

“Maybe I could use your help, y/n” he finally admitted.

“Mhm, that’s what I thought” you rose from your seat and headed around the table. You observed the room, and no one was around. You hadn’t seen anyone in the library since you walked in. You could probably hear a pin drop in the vast silence. You came around behind his chair and leaned down next to him. Obi Wan’s eyes could not have been less discreet as they peered over to your chest that was now at his eye level. Your shirt was low cut, and perhaps a little too tight, but nothing you wouldn’t normally wear. You noticed but said nothing to Obi Wan, just flattered that he wanted to look.

“Let me try and enter the coordinates. What were they?” You inquired. He gave you the same numbers he had been typing in. You unfortunately found yourself having the same issue he was having. Obi Wan laughed, mocking you for thinking it was his fault.

“User-error, was it?” He teased you. You shook your head and giggled.

“Let me try something else” you said. You attempted other methods in order to make it work. 

“Why don’t you pull up a chair?” He suggested.

You looked around, there were no chairs close, except for your chair on the other side of the table.

“Oh no, that’s alright” you shrugged, but then an idea crept into your devious, sexually deprived head. You checked your surroundings again, no one was in the library. It was late, anyways, so it wasn’t unusual.

Obi Wan’s lap sat there, open and empty, legs spread open, as if it was waiting on you to fill the space. You slowly moved your hips downward and over onto his thighs. He didn’t say a word, protest, or even make a sound, until you were fully seated on his unprepared lap.

“Oh, um...alright then” he stuttered, unsure what to say, but didn’t reject you either.

“Sorry, I saw a perfectly good seat and took it. That okay?” You clearly played innocent.

He roughly cleared his throat and breathed out hard. His built up sexual tension was obvious, and you preyed on it guiltlessly.

“No problem at all” he chuckled, finally responding to you. Continuing to work at the computer in your new found seat, you rotated your hips side to side subtly, pressing more firm into him. Hardly any time had passed before you felt him grow aroused under your ass. You smirked, loving the effect you were having on him.

“Oh, there we go, it worked!” you announced suddenly. The screen displayed the archive location that he searched for, after tweaking with the settings for a bit.

“What worked?” He breathed out, clearly more flustered than the last time he spoke. It was as if he was snapped out of a trance. He was incredibly distracted and couldn’t even recall for the moment what you were even helping him with.

“The...computer?” You stated the obvious, turning around sharply to meet his eyes.

“Right!” He shyly remembered.

His erection was continuing to grow and he wondered if you could feel it against you.

“Something wrong, Obi Wan?” You asked him, Both of you were fully aware of what was happening, but the lack of direct communication refused to acknowledge it plainly.

“Oh, I’m fine” He replied, clearing his throat again.

“You sure? You seemed flustered” You pushed the conversation further.

“Y-yes I'm, uh, I’m sure” he stumbled over his words.

“Seems like you’re having a hard time with your words there, Master Kenobi” you purred, wasting no time dancing around the idea. “Well, something is hard” you smirked, getting close to his face while sitting sideways across his thighs.

His breath hitched in his throat when he heard your voice turn sensual. Obi Wan said nothing because he wasn’t sure what to say. He wanted you, that you could tell, but a man that lived so strictly by the Jedi code would be hard to crack. And in public? He’d be insane to let you seduce him.

“Y/n...” he groaned deeply. His body language communicating how hard it was to restrain himself.

“Yes?” You whispered while moving your lips to his bare neck. You placed your lips at his supple skin and pecked slowly and lightly.

“As lovely as this is, I can’t” he protested. “It’s forbidden for me to engage in this, y/n, you know that”

Regardless, your lips continued working at his neck. A hum, almost resembling a moan, crawled from his mouth.

“You’re telling me, that if I got on my knees, right now, right here in front of you, that you wouldn’t want me to suck your cock?” You purred so softly directly into his ear. You observed the chills that cascading down his body and you smiled against his skin.

“Stars, y/n, I’ve never heard you talk like this” He avoided the question, his breathing still tense. You felt his hips buck slightly up into your weight.

“I know how stressed you are, Obi Wan, let me help you” you offered. He looked into your eyes for a moment. Desperation was hidden deep in his gaze. He wanted a release, but had to make a decision of his morality and his loyalty to the Jedi Order.

“You want to do that to me...here?” He inquired the absurdity of your offered actions and especially there in public. His tone was so innocent and clueless to your attraction to him.

“Oh, Master Kenobi, it’d be my pleasure” you called him by his formal name yet again, even though you’d only ever called him Obi Wan. You assumed it might turn him on. You were right.

You softly press your lips onto his. He received your lips hesitantly, but then eagerly. You moved to straddle him, placing both legs on either side of his hips. You pushed your hips forward, curling them into his bulge. Becoming more comfortable with your touch, Obi Wan’s lips danced with yours passionately.

Butterflies fluttered in your belly as you finally acted on your eager built up desires for him.

“But, y/n, the Council -” he began again, breaking the kiss, and still worried for his long list of ethical restrictions on his life.

“I don’t see them here...do you? And we both know Anakin doesn’t follow the rules, does he?” You persisted.

“Well, no. I suppose you’re right” he whispered back, laughing quietly at your comment. He was nervous, but it was impossible for him to hide his new hunger for your lips around his cock.

“Allow yourself some fun, Master”

“Y/n, I want to, but I’ve never done anything like this before” He admitted casually.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you” you sweetly assured him.

“Okay, darling, but I do believe we must make this quick” he finally fully accepted the idea, but looked quickly around the very large room to confirm you were alone together.

“Oh it won’t take me long at all” you winked at him.

Removing yourself from his lap, his eyes never left you as he was unsure of your next step. You got on your knees in front of him, as you promised. His hands eagerly fumbled to pull his trousers down. You met his hands halfway and took over.

His cock begged to be let free from its restraints. Once the cloth passed his full length, it sprung out and met your eye level. He was so adorably nervous. You released a moan at the sight of him exposed to you.

You wrapped your hand around him and the contact made him twitch. He breathed out heavily as he’d never been touched like this by another person. Your eyes met his lustful gaze. You raised your eyebrows, non verbally asking If he was ready. He nodded his head, and you proceeded.

Your lips parted widely to bring him into your mouth. Your eyes locked as you lowered your mouth completely down his length, taking all of him into you. A feeling so unfamiliar to him caused Obi Wan to grip the arm rest of the chair. He breathed in sharply, and exhaled the sweetest moan. Using the moisture from your mouth, you glided yourself up and down slowly.

“Oh my stars, y/n” he whispered. You two knew you still needed to be quiet, in case someone was close.

Obi Wan was so sensitive and touch starved beyond belief. No matter how hard he tried to muffle himself, he was unsuccessful. Your ears were graced with the delicate sounds escaping his lips as you brought him more pleasure than he’d ever experienced before.

“Fuck” he cried, already so close to his climax from your skilled motions. Vulgarity flying from him was a new sound to you and it earned a warm sensation inside of you.

An aching formed between your legs, a feeling of pleasure that was all too familiar to you. You wanted him to take you right then and there, but you’d surely get caught. Another time, you thought.

Removing your mouth to rest your jaw, you pumped your hands around him. You looked up at him, his eyes had still not broken contact with you while you created a euphoric form of pleasure for him for the first time.

“Y/n...” he whimpered

“Yes, Master Kenobi?” You cooed and smiled at him. He formed a grin down at you that quickly turned back into his O-face as you pumped him faster.

“I’m...oh my” he started, his body couldn’t stay still.

“Are you gonna cum for me?”

“Oh, yes, y/n. I’m so close. I’m gonna cum” he whined.

You returned the moisture of your mouth back to his cock and sloppily, yet rhythmically, sucked him continuously, responding to the way his body moved and the sound of his moans. The veins in his length twitched and his hips shifted.

Obi Wan threw his head back in ecstasy and just then you felt your throat become coated in his hot cum. The suppression of the growls that formed from his climax was intense and deep, somehow loud and quiet simultaneously.

You swallowed him up and removed your mouth from his sensitive parts. Obi Wan’s head was still laid back, you watched as his chest rose and fell with the effort to catch his breath.

“Was that alright?” You asked, giggling, knowing the answer already.

“Well, I...darling that was...incredible” he finally expressed in between his deep breaths.

You helped him pull his trousers back up and plant a kiss on his cheek as you stood.

“Glad I could be of some assistance for you tonight” you winked.

He was blushing, still in disbelief that you two just engaged in such an act. He was so precious and shy about the whole thing, but enjoyed every single second of it.

“Perhaps maybe I can help you next time, hm?” He suggested. You bite your lip, already growing eager for the next time you’d be alone with him.

Kinda wanna make a part 2??

[mxvladdy]

I can't stress enough 'wows' in tve way you write along with the fact that it's you first few posts (i think? Pls correct me) can you do luci mammon and satan with a reader who takes naps bc of overthinking? They just tug their sleeves and shot them a tired look, while looking down shying away. Also, have a nice day and take the time to be yourself!

Aw thanks fam! I am fairly new to posting my works, I tried twice before this with two different writing blogs but I deleted them both bc I felt discouraged. I’m older now and I feel a lot better about my writing, so third time the charm and all that lol! I’m so glad you like my writing! I know I need some work on grammar and expanding my vocabulary.  

This was a super cute prompt ;.; I hope I did it justice!

Lucifer

He is a mix of jealous and pissed. He wishes he could fall asleep so easily when he gets inundated with too many things at once. But also- just don’t do that? Where were your manners?

He starts noticing your little peculiarity in class. Specifically that you tend to nod off in advance alchemy and rune scripting. You were being so studious, jotting down notes, ask great questions. Next thing he knows you're out like a light.

He is shocked for a moment before he will wake you up. Your wide doe-eyed frown does nothing to him. JK his hearts clench at your wounded look.

He makes the other brothers report to him about your behavior and odd sleep habit. Were you ill? Was this just something humans did? Devils, was Belphie rubbing off on you?

They all say the same thing. One moment you are working hard or talking to them about a topic you are passionate about, and the next you are yawning hard enough to pop your jaw and shyly asking to lay down.

Well-he can’t have that.

If you are going to fall asleep around anyone it’s going to be him.

He sets up remedial lessons with you after dinner to make up for the work slept through. You sit by him at his long ornate desk while he tutors you on what you missed.

You weren't having any problems,  you even finished a few pages. He is proud and then-

“I can almost hear those gears slowing my dear.” Lucifer interrupts himself mid-explanation of Zosimos of Panopolis and Maria the Prophetess's theories of alchemy in human medicine.

You jerk awake and turn to him blinking owlishly. "Yeah, I just need to lay down." You admit.

Lucifer eyes you critically. This was sudden, were you ill? You had been fine moments ago, bright-eyed and enthusiastic. He cups your face, turning it from side to side. "So suddenly? We haven't even discussed the properties of mercury yet." You hum letting your eyes droop. He was always so warm.

"Hour nap break? Please?" His stern gaze softens at how your nose scrunches up cutely as you yawn.

“Very well.” He relents letting you slick over to his couch. You flop over face first with a grunt of satisfaction. You toss and turn for a while, moving his pillows around unsatisfied.

“Luci-” You call in defeat. He ignores you at first. If you wanted to nap fine, he would get some work done in the meantime. “Luci~” You say again. You could see his brow twitching. “Lu-”

“My dear,” He shoots you a withering look. “You are treading a thin line. If you have the energy to call for me you have the energy to study.” You say nothing at his brisk tone, instead of opening your arms to him to join you. “You tempt me.” He purrs hiding his smile behind his paperwork.

“Learned from the best.” Lucifer shakes his head laughing at your smug reply. He glances over you to his grandfather clock. Hmmm-perhaps he could spare a few minutes. He rises elegantly discarding his tie and waistcoat to his abandoned chair. Running a hand through his hair he snorts at your little whistle.

“Move.” He commands. You shake your head patting your belly. “I will crush you.” He laughs but lays over you regardless.

“Good-you’re warm.” You say muffled in his shirt. Wrapping your arms around his middle you drift off. Lucifer holds you close, running a still gloved hand up and down your side. Perhaps he should bring out some more complex topics next time. If this was the outcome-

Mammon

He noticed you get drowsy before in class. Your cute little head jerks as you nod off, hands rubbing at your face as you fight to stay awake before giving in to the need to sleep. It was adorable- not that he was watching you because of that! He was just doing his job of looking out for you

Ye-that was all.

Honestly, he thought you were just like him. He never cared for the books being forced on him in class. Boring useless crap in his opinion. He much rather sleep through a lecture on stats too.

Now books on photography? That's where it's at. He has a legitimate passion for it.

He likes being behind the camera just as much as he likes being in front of it. Though he doesn't snap photos often.

He doesn't need more beratement from his brothers than he already gets. Sides, he just feels like they would look down at this like everything else he does.

He'll share his hobby with you though. You at least seem interested in it. He'll show you his collection of vintage to high-tech cameras and talk your ear off about the makes, models, and features.

You nod along and ask questions from time to time, smiling along with Mammon while he prattles on about color theory next to you on the floor.

He was just getting to Auguste Lumiére when he feels a gentle bump on his shoulder.

"O-oi!" Mammon starts, shaking his shoulder to rouse you. You look up at him, blinking the sleep from your eyes. "Was...was I that boring?" He deflates a little, all previous excitement gone in a flash. You had seemed so interested...

"What? Oh, no. No Mammon I'm sorry. It's really all fascinating," You grab for his sleeve so he couldn't run away. "It was just a lot of information all at once. I just got a bit overwhelmed."

"So you fall asleep?" He raises a brow not believing you for a second. Who falls asleep when something is interesting? He'll admit he's fallen asleep while listening to Levi talk about a new anime or Asmo with a make-up release.  But that's because it had been boring. "Is that like a human thing?"

You shrug snuggling closer. "I don't know- but it's a me thing. Give me five? I'd love to hear you talk more about your collection, promise."

Mammon glows scarlet at your words. "Of course you do!" He puffs out his chest excitedly. “I got great taste.” You nod into his shirt before drifting off again. He tilts his head slightly to look at you chuckling internally when your breathing and heartbeat slow down. Damn, out in seconds. Well, better get comfortable.

Uncrossing his long legs he picks up the camera he had been showing you. The old Polaroid lens reflects his face back at him. He remembered the day Land had debuted this marvel of engineering. He just had had to get his hands on one. It was useless now, he had much better quality cameras than this old thing, but he remembered you reminiscing about your human friends and their portable camera. Would you take some pictures with him too? He would take one now, but the sound of the flash would definitely wake you up.

He fiddles with it for a few more minutes, opening and closing the film canister and checking for any parts that needed fixing as he waits. You stir at his side a few minutes later with a little mew of satisfaction. Mammon hears your joints creak and pop as you stretch. "Morning." He says sarcastically, earning himself a light punch to his shoulder. "Ready to continue?"

You nod eagerly, perky and aware. At least for the moment.

Satan

He didn't really notice at first the pattern of your behavior.

You would come over for book club. Which was really just him reading his current novel and you picking something at random to gain a little random knowledge.

You would find a comfortable position on his bed, curl up nice and small and read. Then after a bit yawn and start to snooze.

He first thought it was the atmosphere of his room. It was quiet, warm, and the sound of flickering candles and the rustle of paper sometimes caused him to doze too.

But when it starts happening outside of class he notices.

Hmmm….this is new.

He looks it up in his human anatomy books and finds nothing.

He's not particularly worried about you per se. You always bounce back quickly after a quick snooze.

Then you start dozing when he is talking… >:(

Like his brother/dad he is a little miffed at first but then your behavior reminds him a cat and he loves you 10x harder now

Satan stops in his pacing of the back gardens. His book of poetry hanging limply in his hand. He had been reciting some of the most fascinating lines of work from Lord Byron's later works and wanted a human's perspective. He had thought you were interested. You never complained before when he asked you out here. Perhaps you were just being polite all those times before. Anything to soothe wrath. He snaps his book shut sharply, take some perverse satisfaction in the way you start out of your light sleep at the noise.

"Why'd you stop?" You ask wiping at your face.

"No point talking to someone that doesn't wish to listen." He snaps tersely.

"Oh-Satan, no I was listening. It...it just got to be so much so fast." You flush. “You had some great points going, I just needed a minute.” He watches your eyes grow heavy again, and it dawns on him.

"Do you just sleep when overwhelmed?" He asks incredulously. In all his years with humans, this was new. You shrug making grabby hands for him to move closer. He scoffs but moves into your space. You grab at the hem of his shirt and pull him down to sit next to you. He goes willingly getting comfortable by your side. You eye his lap longingly, hands clutching around his coat sleeve. “Fine-” He rolls his eyes. “Come here you odd thing.” You smile in triumph and crawl into his lap. Once settled you nuzzle into his warm chest.

“Wake me up in ten? I want to hear more about your conversations with Byron.”

“I’ll hold you to it.” He kisses the top of your forehead, opening his book to read again with one hand. You hum at his soft kiss, returning it sleepily with one of your own before passing out again. Ten minutes go by in an instant and Satan looks down at your peaceful face. He smiles to himself, perhaps he’ll let you sleep for a little while longer. You’d need it for his next point.  

[solohux]

Hiya! Can i request a prompt where hux one day from the corner of his eye discovers a little girl just wandering around.- a force sensitive orphan taken in by ren. Only he diden’t tell hux who is very confused

There’s a story on board the Finalizer, a tale that is told by officers when the lights go out and the skeleton crew tends to the engines. Ensigns quiver behind their pillows as lieutenants recite the newest ghost story to them as though it’s a rite of passage into their crew, to listen to each chilling detail, get to the end and still be able to sleep.

A story of a ghost girl who wanders the corridors in a black nightgown, her white hair floating around her like an eerie fog. Barefoot, the girl can be no older than seven or eight standard years, walking alone in the cold night of the ship as though she’s in a trance. No one dares to talk to her or approach her, freezing with fear if they get too close to the lonely ghost and then falling to the ground in a deep sleep.

But Hux isn’t fearful of anything on board his ship, especially not silly stories that sound more akin to something his fellow cadets would have told each other in the dead of night to prove who was the bravest. Little Armitage always thought such tests were ridiculous, choosing to ignore his frightened classmates and, instead, bury his head beneath his bedcovers so he couldn’t hear them.

Even Mitaka, one of General Hux’s most trusted officers, claims to have seen the wandering girl. Hux had rolled his eyes and told his Lieutenant to stop drinking on the job but a tiny shiver runs down Hux’s spine once he sees the fear in Mitaka’s eyes.

The very next night, Hux’s eyes hold the same flash of fear.

He’s been working in his private office, running tests and simulations for one of his newest weapons, and time has gotten away from him. It’s late into the night cycle, leaving droids and the bare minimum crew members present in the corridors. In the silence, Hux is suddenly aware of his lone presence, succumbing to his nervousness and checking over his shoulder for any small figures dressed in black that may be following him.

But he finds nothing.

“Childish worries,” Hux scoffs, straightening his greatcoat upon his shoulders. “Ghosts aren’t real.”

He rounds the corner towards the turbolift that will take him to his chambers and the very fear that his officers have spoken of overcomes him, freezing his core, his skin, and almost stops his heart.

Just ahead, there’s a figure. Small, with long white hair. A child, no doubt, walking slowly as though lost, so light on her feet that her footsteps don’t make a sound. Hux swallows hard, rooted to the ground. His shuddering breath and trembling hands are his only company; does he reach for his blaster and stun it? Will his attack pass through her and result in his death? Hux cannot know but regardless, he reaches for his blaster and pulls it out of its holster, raising it slowly.

The child stops. She turns. Her eyes are open, shining like amber jewels, but the rest of her pale face is vacant. Truly, a ghost of these haunted hallways.

Hux hadn’t imagined that his end would be at the hands of a little ghost girl in the bowels of his own ship but as his finger hovers over the trigger, he’s certain that his death is nigh.

“Neeva!”

At the other end of the corridor, a familiar voice calls out a strange name, which gives Hux slight comfort that his co-commander may have come to rescue him, perhaps sensing his terror through his mystical Force powers. But Kylo looks as though he’s just leapt out of bed, barefoot in a casual pair of baggy pants and a loose, grey shirt and his hair unkempt. His dark eyes flick from the girl to Hux as he walks slowly towards the girl, every step careful and calculated.

“Ren!” Hux whispers loudly, scratching his throat. The Knight clearly has no regard for the ghost stories and approaches the girl without making any sudden movements. Hux fumbles to hold his blaster in the shooting position but Kylo holds his hand up and freezes the General’s moves without needing the Force.

“Neeva,” Kylo says again, only softer this time. His voice is laced with concern, eyebrows furrowed. The girl stops walking, shuddering to a halt. “Neeva. Wake up. Come back.”

Neeva? The ghost girl has a name, it would seem. Her amber eyes loose a speckle of their glassiness with each mentioning of her name as though being drawn out from a spell. Hux frowns, watching with a concoction of fear and curiosity that roots him to the ground as Kylo kneels down in front of the girl and takes her hand, reaching to tuck a portion of her white hair behind her ear.

“It’s just the Force,” he says, her hand dwarfed in his. “Come back to me.”

“D-Dad?”

Hux hadn’t remembered that he was still holding his blaster until it drops from his hand and clangs to the floor, startling him—though it doesn’t make him jump in surprise even nearly as much as the word that the girl has just uttered; ‘dad’.

“Yeah, brave one,” Kylo whispers. “I’m here.”

“Daddy!”

The girl blinks and suddenly, her ghostly aura seems to disappear as she throws herself into Kylo’s arms, holding on tightly to him. He’s whispering calming words to her but part of Hux wishes that someone were here to do the same for him; his heart feels like it may give out at any moment.

“Ren?” Hux picks his blaster up, noting his hands are still trembling. Kylo stands up with Neeva at his side, her arms wrapped around his waist and one of his hands rests protectively on Neeva’s back as though he thinks that Hux is still going to harm her but the General holds his hands up defensively once his weapon is back upon his belt. “I would very much appreciate a little light shed on what the kriffing hell is going on here.”

Kylo smiles, clearly amused by Hux’s lingering fear. “This is Neeva.”

Neeva raises her hand in a small wave, yawning but still managing to give Hux a smile afterwards. She looks like a perfectly normal seven year old child now that she’s snapped out of whatever strange Force-veil was covering her.

“H-Hello,” Hux replies. “Uh. Who is she?”

“My daughter,” Kylo says, and Hux’s mouth falls open. “Not...biological, before you assume anything. I adopted her when she was young after she was orphaned on a small moon.”

Neeva yawns again and Kylo picks her up, holding her effortlessly on his hip whilst she snuggles into him and rests her head on her shoulder.

“Daughter,” Hux parrots, shocked to the core. “How in hell’s name have you managed to keep her a secret? All this time!”

Kylo shrugs casually, “It was easy when she was a small child and I was living on my own ship. When we moved here, it began to stress her and caused her to begin sleepwalking.”

“You look amused, Master Ren,” Hux folds his arms.

“I am. Your officers have created ghost stories about her, scaring each other until they’re afraid to walk the corridors at night.”

“You have to admit, Ren, that there’s something eerie about her when she’s...sleepwalking.”

Kylo looks down at Neeva, who’s fallen asleep in his arms. “She’s strong with the Force, like I was when I was a child but I didn’t have anyone who understood me. But Neeva has me, and I won’t let her down.”

In his arms, the girl stirs and snuggles against Kylo’s shoulder, her arms wrapped around his neck as she smiles in her dream.

“She sees you as her father.”

Kylo’s expressions turns stern, “That’s because I am. I found her when she was no more than a toddler on the streets, lost and alone. I couldn’t leave her. She doesn’t remember her parents. From what I’ve felt in the Force, they’re dead. The only things she remembers of her life before me is hunger and cold. I’m her father.”

Hux can see the passion and the love that Kylo has for this child burning in his eyes; he’d truly Ro anything to protect her. “And the, uh, sleepwalking?”

Kylo ponders, “Perhaps isn’t it isn’t sleepwalking per se but a waking Force coma. Sometimes, the Force guides her to things in the dead of night, putting her under its hold until the trance is complete. She can’t be stopped by anyone except for someone with a strong connection to her.”

“But my officers have seen her. They’ve described her perfectly.”

“Yes,” Kylo nods. “The white hair, the bare feet. But they haven’t seen her for very long. It takes a while for our Force energies to connect so Neeva may have been walking for a while, and officers may have found her before I do. I use the Force to put them to sleep before altering their memories and carrying my daughter back to her bed. The next morning, Neeva is safe and your foolish officers think that they’ve seen a real, supernatural entity.”

Hux sighs, relief lifting a weight off his shoulders, “So there is no ghost girl haunting the halls of my ship. I knew it.”

“Liar, Kylo scoffs. “I sensed Neeva’s wandering presence and found her here. When I came around that corner, I thought the ghost was you. You were so pale, Hux.”

“I’m pale anyway.”

“Paler than usual, then. Your projecting, terrified emotions nearly knocked me over.”

Hux huffs. “Well. Do forgive me for thinking that your secret, white-haired daughter was a ghost.”

“It’s alright,” Kylo closes the gap between them. “And now that you know of her existence, I need two things from you.”

Oh, hells. “What two things?”

“One,” Kylo begins, holding up one finger. “I need you to continue to keep Neeva’s presence here a secret. It would only jeopardise her safety. She’s powerful, some would seek to exploit that.”

“Of course, Ren.”

“Two. I need you to continue to the rumour about the ghost.”

“Why?” Hux exclaims, wanting to put all of this behind him. What purpose could that possibly serve to you?”

Kylo shrugs, giving Neeva a little kiss on her head before turning away to head back to their chambers, “It’s funny.”

[junosartsthetic]

Flustered

Remember that old edited fic I promised yesterday? I finally got around to finishing it. Happy late birthday to number one gremlin. 

Wordcount: 1406

Character(s): Bakugou Katsuki, (Y/N)

Warning(s): Innuendos. Swearing. 

Note: This is an updated version of a one-shot I originally posted on my Quotev account.

     The first time you had seen your soon-to-be classmates was on tv. Apparently your new school, UA, was popular enough to broadcast its sports festival on ESPN. This alone alerted you that this would be an interesting next few years.

        A sudden conversation reached your ears as you passed by a group of students meandering down the hallway, seemingly on their way to the class 1-A door, as well.

        “I’ll fuckin’ kill that damn nerd if he steals my moves again,” a very disgruntled blond growled, his hands shoved in his pockets as he leaned forward, looking very much like a gremlin. You recognized him as the first place winner of the festival—Katsuki Bakugou. 

        A spiky-haired redhead let out a nervous laugh. You vaguely remembered him—Kirishima. “Don’t be like that, dude! Midoriya is just bein’ like you because he knows you’re one of the best!”

        The blond smirked. “Damn right I am. I’ll kick his ass once and for all when I become number one hero.”

        You let out a snort loud enough to catch the attention of the aforementioned gremlin. Oops.

        “The fuck you laughin’ at, bitch?” he spat, stopping his trudge to glare at you. His friends looked ready to hold him back. They shot worried looks your way. 

        “You—” you took in a breath to stop yourself from laughing—”you sound—” you snorted— “You sound so sure of yourself! Love that confidence! Good for you!”

        He narrowed his eyes at you to the point where only a sliver of bright red remained. “The fuck is that supposed to mean, you fuckin’ moron!”

        You scrunched your nose mockingly. “Oh, I’m sorry. My mistake. I wasn’t aware every pro in a hundred kilometer radius is set to self-destruct once you graduate. Well, if you graduate.”

        Kirishima, a blond with a black bolt of lighting in his hair, a black-haired dude who looked rather stoned, and a pink girl with yellow horns all struggled to contain their laughter.

        You noticed Bakugou’s eye twitch and opened your mouth to comment, but the words were taken out of you when he suddenly charged at you, a murderous expression on his face. Death on your first day. Great.

        “Bakugou, wait!” Kirishima yelled, but it was too late. 

        Your back met a wall harshly, and two arms caged your body in, making it impossible to get away without a fight. You heard your back crack. Free chiropractic services at least?

        “If you ever say that about me again, I’ll fuckin’ rip your face off, bitch!” he barked, his face only a hair away from yours as his eye bore into yours. You squinted. Was that a vine reference?

     A twinge of fear gripped you, but instead of showing it, you did the next best thing. “Ooh~, feisty~!” You let out a flirty growl, winking at him. This was, in fact, not the next best thing. It was, however, hilarious to your goldfish brain. 

        A dash of pink spread across his cheeks, but his expression remained pissed and he kept eye contact. “Shut the fuck up!”

        You raised an eyebrow, keeping your cool. “Oh, why don’t you make me, pretty boy~?” Good job, (Y/N). Good social skills. You are nailing this. This is definitely the way to get out of the situation. There is no other possible option. 

        “Pretty-” he paused, glaring daggers as his face flushed pinker- “the fuck are you getting at, bitch!”

        You brushed off the growing apprehension of knowing he was going to snap at any moment and pursed your lips. “I don’t know, what do you want me to be getting at?” you replied, shrugging as you did so. You resisted the urge to bite your lip like a moron. What the fuck were you doing? Flirting? Fighting? Who knows. Certainly not you. 

        “The only thing you’re getting on now is my last goddamn nerve!” You felt a rumbling of the wall, and assumed he was using his quirk slightly, succumbing to anger. Would you have to pay for any wall damage he caused? You didn’t have wall insurance. Yikes. Maybe you could write it off on your taxes later. Just kidding. You don’t do taxes.

        “Well maybe if you’re lucky I can get on something more personal later,” you purred, giving a wink. (Y/N), no. Stop. You wanted to bash your head against the wall. What was this word vomit? You’re embarrassing yourself. 

        His face went bright red faster than you’d ever witnessed, and he finally broke eye contact to look sideways, his breaths coming out heavy. Oh shit. 

        You smiled, proud of yourself for winning whatever wild staring contest was happening, but that smile quickly left your face when he turned back towards you, a smirk on his lips. Ohhhhhh shit.

        His expression radiated cockiness, and you gulped. It was the same face he made throughout the sports festival- the one he put on when he knew he was going to win. You sucked in a breath, smiling awkwardly. Maybe if you just… apologize? Leave somehow? 

        The others knew what was happening; they could feel the tension in the air. Kirishima gestured to the classroom door some ways down the hall, and the others nodded, beginning to walk towards it with Ashido being pulled away by Kaminari. What the fuck? They were just gonna leave you here? Rude. You did deserve it, though. This was all your fault. 

        There was now an unspoken war between you two, but you refused to surrender. Whoever made the other so flustered they couldn’t take it won. And you wanted to win.

        Taking in a breath, you copied his expression. Okay, (Y/N). Just fake it ‘til you make it. Be cocky. Be the hoe you always claimed to be. “So, firecracker, you gonna say anything? Finally shut me up? Prove just how good you are at being number one at absolutely everything?” You mentally patted yourself on the back. Good quip? Good quip. Nice. You were nailing this. 

        “I know a way to shut you the fuck up-” he moved closer, now leaning over you with his forearm resting above your head- “but you might moan a little.” 

Sir, this is a Wendy’s drive-through.

        You bit your cheek in a vain attempt to stop yourself from blushing. 'Fuck, that was hot.' Regardless of your reddened state, you pressed on. “Oh yeah? Moan in irritation, maybe. You may have the looks but I doubt you got the touch. Of course, feel free to prove me wrong~.” You winced. They make it look so much easier in the movies. You could feel your confidence crumbling.

        He scoffed. “You wanna fuckin’ bet?”

        “Oh, I kinda wanna be fuckin’ something, but it’s not a bet,” you quipped, moving one of your hands from the wall to grab his messily-knotted tie. You smiled smugly.

        He remained speechless for a moment, his crimson eyes peering into yours. Then his gaze moved lower down your face. 'Is he looking at my lips? Is he going as far as to actually kiss me?' Oh fuck. Abort mission! Abort mission! Call it quits, moron!

        You tugged on his tie, tilting your head. “Oh? Did I break the future number one hero? Did I win against the Katsuki Bakugou?” Jesus Christ, (Y/N), you stupid hoe! Stop it!

        “Remember what I said about shutting you the fuck up?” he angrily whispered, teeth grit in irritation.

        You nodded. Oh no. 

        “Well, if you say another goddamn word I swear to God I fucking will.”

        You clicked your tongue before pressing it against the roof of your mouth, morbidly curious about what he would do. Luckily for him, you drank your full dose of dumb-bitch juice. Finally, you leaned forward and tugged him by his tie so you were nose to nose. “Bet.”

        You felt the roughness of lips on yours, but only temporarily, as Bakugou was suddenly flung away from you and into a mess of grey scarf.

        “Get to class,” Aizawa muttered, glaring at both of you, “NOW.” Yikes. Busted.

        You gave a swift nod and bow before skipping down the hallway, but not before turning behind you to wink at the caught blond and mouth 'later.’ 

        His face went red and he turned away. You felt you were in the lead in whatever competition you’d just started, and from here on out, it was going to remain that way. At least, you hoped so.

[itssuppertim3]

Second Chance (Miraak x Reader) Part 4:

The truth,

Before we knew it, a week had already flown by. Much like a mother educating her child, I taught Bjorn many things he might've forgotten about the world. I reminded him about the war, to which he was thoroughly shocked over, I demonstrated how to plant various plants and crops, and I even gave him a few spell tones to study.

The two of us sat in the shade for a while, chatting away. I remembered Elsbeth throwing several mischievous glances my way throughout the week. In my own confusion, I let it be and pretended to act aloof. "Did you know that you can even heal plants?" I flipped over to a certain page in the book and ran my finger across the wording.

I provided him a quick example by plucking a dandelion from the ground and snapping its stem in two. I focused a small percentage of healing magic over the damage and let the energy flow from my palm. With a swipe of my hand, the flower was replenished in seconds. "How interesting, though I fail to see how it can be beneficial," he confessed. "It usually helps with alchemy, but judging from how skilled you become, you could even fasten plant growth and create a barrier for defense!" He truly seemed to be intrigued by the lesson. "You're a good teacher, Y/n." My cheeks burned at his compliment and I scratched the back of my neck bashfully. "I'm really not that good. I just read a lot and work hard. Plus, there's still so much I need to learn," I clipped. "Hey, you two! I have some jobs for you to do," Elsbeth called from the porch. Bjorn rose to his feet and lended me a hand, which I gladly took.

Once we made it back to the cottage, we were both given a task. Bjorn was requested to cook dinner, and I was sent to feed the chickens. One would only think our roles would be the opposite. "I'm gonna visit Alvor for some supplies before it gets too late. Don't let me down!" We waved her goodbye as she slowly retreated down the hill. "Would you like for me to help you with the feed?" he asked. "No. I think I can manage," I laughed. "Just make sure not to set the kitchen on fire."

When he retreated into the house, I went to fetch the chicken feed. Roosters and hens combined, they swarmed around my feet, demanding their supper. "Alright, Alright! No need to get aggressive!" Their attention diverted in a flash as soon as I began to scatter their food around. While they were busy pecking away, I exited the pen and headed back towards the cottage. Before I could reach it however, I saw two figures approaching.

It seemed to be a woman and a man dressed in gawdy uniforms. "You there," the man snapped. I stood my ground and flashed a cautious smile. "Yes? Can I help you?" They both stopped just feet in front of me. Now that I could see them more clearly, they looked like something straight out of a nightmare! Their apparel was oddly fashioned, both torn and sloppily stitched. But what frightened me the most were the masks they wore over their faces. I gulped and tried to remain calm.

The woman retrieved a rolled up slip of paper from her pocket and held it to my face. My stomach flipped upon examining the illustration of a character with the very same mask that I still had in my bag. "Have you seen someone who looks like this?" he interrogated. I was somewhat able to maintain my stoic facade, though I could feel it cracking. "No. I haven't," I said, stiff as a log. "She lies, just as that deceiver did," the woman hissed. "I will ask again." I yelped when he grasped my shoulder. I sucked in a breath after feeling a dangerous heat emitting from his hand. "Where is our Master Miraak?" My eyes grew as wide as stones at his words.

"What...?"

My blood ran cold as he ignited a flame into his other hand. My shoulder started to burn painfully. "I don't know what you're talking about," I whimpered. Still, the man refused to release his hold on me. My heart drummed against my ribs and my throat ran dry. These people were going to kill me. I didn't even have enough time to watch my life play out in front of me.

Suddenly, I heard the door open from behind me and a heavy pair of footsteps marched over to us. The two culprits beamed in delight at his presence. "Master Miraak--!" A large hand swooped in and clutched the exterior of the man's face, while another shielded my eyes. I could hear my attacker kick and squirm under my savior's deadly grip. I flinched in terror as his entire body burst into flames. The heat completely overwhelmed me, licking my face as it did. And oh, the screaming. That agonizing screaming. My ears couldn't take anymore.

I knew the other one had been running by now. I cringed at the thought of being forced to endure the same awful shrieks of pain again. I tried to claw my way to safety, but I couldn't move. I was completely and utterly paralyzed under Bjorn’s touch.. "Fus, Ro Dah!" A deafening force reverberated through my very bones and melted through my skin. I couldn't even begin to comprehend it. Was that what a shout sounded like?

Although I was finally granted permission to see, I didn't dare open my eyes. I couldn't. But eventually, I did. All that remained was a pile of ashes, though there were no signs of a second one. Bjorn, or Miraak, had already left my side and was now facing away from me. I peered at him in a mixture of fear and disbelief, and something else. Sadness. I was sad. I was so terribly sad because I knew he was going to leave us; he was going to leave me. Now that his secret was out, there was no reason to stay. We were both aware that I was scared, but I wasn't scared of him. I was scared for his safety, I was scared of those people that were after him. But most importantly, I was scared for myself. I didn't want to say goodbye to someone who had brought so much light into my tiny world. And I was selfish for it.

On impulse, I ran forward and threw my arms around him. He stiffened sharply, but didn't utter a word. "Don't leave. Please don't leave." My voice was barely above a whisper, so I was certain that his ears didn't catch my plea. But he eventually tilted his head down at me in a sullen silence. My chest panged at the sight of his face. He didn't want to leave, but his words spoke the opposite. "There will be more. Your life has already been endangered once, and I can't let that happen again. Let me go, Y/n," he demanded. "I won't," I cried. I only held him tighter. "I know I'm selfish and naive and foolish, but I won't let you go!" One by one, tears slid down my cheeks and bled through the fabric of Miraak's shirt. I always loathed the way I sobbed. They were a loud and ugly mess, but that didn't stop me regardless of how embarrassing it was.

I soon found myself trembling on the ground with my hand now clutching the hem of his trousers. The tall ravenette slowly crouched to my level and reached out. However, he stopped himself and went to retract his arm away. Before he could, I grabbed his hand and held it against my damp cheek. He traced his thumb over my eyelid to rid of my tears, but frowned at his unsuccess. "What would your sister think? She'd have my head for making you cry like this," he said suddenly. "Yeah, she probably would. Don't tell me that's why you're so eager to run away," I jested. He was relieved to see me revert back to my cheerful self, but the corners of his lips flattened once again.

"You are hurt because of me. If I stay, then..."

His sentence escaped him when I shuffled closer to where we were only a breath apart. "Then take me with you." I then leaned in and softly connected our lips. I was fairly inexperienced with kissing, so I didn't know if I was doing it right. All I could do was scrunch my eyes shut and pray that he understood. My heart leapt when he returned the kiss. His lips were chapped and his scruff tickled my cheek. Everything felt so surreal. It was as if I was under some sort of hazy hypnosis. Miraak's hand cupped the back of my head while his other squeezed the small of my waist. I enclosed my arms around his neck in wild euphoria. We both seperated with great reluctance, exhaling heavily. I giggled as he began to peck every inch of skin of my face starting from my jaw to my temple. Knowing him, he probably hadn’t even held a woman in centuries.

I grimaced, instantly reminded of my current delima. Miraak threw his arms back as if he was the cause for my pain. "Come, let's go back," he recommended. I nearly released a squeal when he hoisted me into his fit arms. "What are you--what are you doing?" I stammered, face as red as the evening sky. I knew our body comparisons were different in both height and size, but this was the first time he made me feel so tiny. "I am carrying you," he stated a-matter-of-factly. "It's just my shoulder. I-I can still walk!"

“You’re still injured. It’d be shameful of me not to at least take you off your feet for a short while. Such a gentleman! Miraak's bicep curved against my back and my other shoulder bounced against his broad chest as he walked. I wasn't convinced that my face could get any redder! After acting so boldly a moment ago, I should've expected the embarrassment to catch up with me. I couldn't help but voice out a squeak after his fingers slid a bit further past the bend of my knee. "Are you alright?" It was an easy question to answer, but my mind was so scrambled I couldn't form a single syllable!

I buried my face into his shirt and shook my head. "Are you in any pain?" How could I be? I was far too distracted by my current situation, I couldn't focus on anything else! Again, I managed a silent 'no'. Miraak stood in contemplation before resuming towards the porch steps. He placed me down with great care before sitting down beside me. I avoided eye contact as he closely examined my face and held his forehead against my own. "You're warm. You must be running a fever," he concluded. I fidgeted under his touch. "Um, I don't think I have a fever," I timidly denied. Miraak's confusion roused. "Then why are you so red?" He was so close, it was like he was trying to see through my soul! "I just--," I stumbled. "I'm just a little embarrassed, is all..." He sat there a minute before also averting his gaze. "Oh. I see." The First Dragonborn cleared his throat. The two of us sat there quietly, a blushing mess.

Once Miraak was able to regain his composure, he slowly etched forward once more. He then directed his finger to my shoulder. "May I?" I nodded curtly and steered my sights to the floor. Miraak gingerly tugged at the neckline of my blouse and inspected the raw burn on my skin. I waited with interest to see how skilled he was with Restoration magic. He probably had hundreds of years’ worth of experience. A soothing warmth enveloped the entirety of my arm. It reminded me of the many hugs and kisses Pa gave me on the days before he left for yet another journey. The nostalgia brought a smile to my lips as I continued to reminisce back on my childhood.

Alas, with a snap of a finger that warmth had abandoned me. I peeked at my injury, which vanished without a trace. "If I would've known how good you are, I wouldn't have wasted time teaching you things you already know," I chuckled. The man hung a light smirk over his features before drawing me in for another kiss. "You've taught me many things, Y/n. And I am hoping for you to teach me many more." By now, the only thing I could hear was a high-pitched ringing with Elsbeth's voice echoing in the background. Wait, Elsbeth's voice? "Well, well~! I'm hardly gone for thirty minutes and you two are all over each other," she taunted, clearly amused by the display in front of her. Miraak and I both jolted away from one another and fiddled our fingers in ungodly embarrassment. “El...! When—when did you get back?” I stammered. “Oh, not long. But just in time to see the juicy bit! Tell me, how long have you been together?” Knowing that she had already seen him kiss me was humiliating enough, and she wouldn’t be my sister if she didn’t make it worse by talking about it!

That night, I told her everything, well, almost everything. Miraak and I decided that it would only complicate matters further by revealing the truth to her. Even now, she was terrified of the stories. I couldn’t even begin to imagine her reaction after realizing that it was him the entire time. I neglected to mention the assaulters, as well as the ash pile on the ground outside. As odd as it was, Elsbeth was completely unbothered by our newly founded relationship. “Y/n, you’re my little sister. Sure, I’m mad. I’m mad that a man succeeded in stealing your heart, but I’m not Pa. If you two are in love, who am I to stop you? I want you to live a full life, as well as a happy one,” she had said. In a matter of seconds, I took her into my arms and thanked her profusely. In addition, she even consented in allowing me to travel with him.

Although Miraak was paranoid, we stayed at the ranch for another week before packing our gear. I searched around my room, collecting an assortment of knickknacks and storing them into my bag. As I opened my satchel, a certain mask greeted me. I held it gingerly in my hands. The eye slits peered up at me in such an eerie way, yet I felt no fear. If anything, staring down at the pitiful thing made me feel almost melancholy. That damaged wood carving was once a shell of such a wonderful person. I brought the mask to my chest and held it there a moment with a somber smile. “Is something the matter?” I felt a warm hand on my shoulder, causing me to turn around. “No, I’m good. You’ll probably be needing this back, huh? I’m sorry I kept it so long,” I chuckled. Miraak examined the worn face piece with uncertainty. He ran his thumbs along every edge and crease and even tipped it upside down. “How do you feel?” I asked him. His green orbs met mine in a look of puzzlement. “I feel... nothing,” he stated simply. “Seeing this mask after so long, I imagined I would be more impacted. But instead it just feels silly to be haunted by it for so long. It all feels like a tucked-away nightmare.” My lips stretched into a grin as I leaned forth and wrapped my arms snuggly around him. "And that’s exactly what it is. It’s all a tucked-away nightmare.” Miraak hummed, smiling at me with adoration. He then bent down to my level and gave me a soft Eskimo kiss.

When we left home that day, we bid our farewells to Elsbeth and I made sure to do the same with all of the cows, goats, chickens, and pigs as we went. Once we reached the gate, I looked back at the ranch one last time. I thought about all of the many times I walked past this gate thinking about how extraordinarily dull my life was. Everyday, I fantasized about romance and adventure. I didn’t think someone with my position would be blessed with such an opportunity, but here I was, madly in love and on my way to start an adventurous life of my own. “Did you leave something behind?” I faced him and shook my head. “No. Let’s go!”

——————————————————————————

Yayy, finally finished the 4th part (this took me freaking forever)

[pathofcomet]

'cause all that you are is all that i'll ever need

fandom: bridgerton series / bridgerton tv 

pairing: colin/penelope

summary: 5 times Penelope said ‘I love you’ to one Mr. Bridgerton, and one time it was out loud. (AO3)

There are many ways to fall in love, surely. It’s called a fall for a reason: mainly that it hurts and it comes at the most unnecessary moments and it’s an entirely ungraceful matter. Just as one might fall down the stairs after too many glasses of champagne, or fall unconscious after being punched in the face, or fall because one’s ankle decided to twist most rudely – so do people fall in love in a various of ways.

Benedict Bridgerton swears it was love at first sight, like being struck by lightning. Laying his eyes on his beloved that fateful day, and knowing with insane certainty that he was going to spend the rest of his life by her side. Then Daphne’s murmured admissions, that it’s like a sigh you didn’t know rested in your chest releasing, rush of comfort and certainty when touching the other’s hand. Eloise scoffs at all of this, but Eloise can scoff because she has refused six marriage proposals, while Penelope sighs, because she hasn’t had one caller in a decade of London’s most notorious seasons.

Romantic stories wouldn’t fit with Penelope, she agrees. Her mouth doesn’t really know how to work half the time during social situations, and her dresses are most painfully unfitting. And if those were her only problems, but she is, to put it delicately and kindly, definitely not what seasonal diamonds want in a friend, not what loving mamas wish for their sons and not what men desire in a woman. It stung only the first time around, afterwards it was most expected. So no, Penelope Featherington’s love story is not romantic because she’s not a typically loveable person.

It doesn’t make it any less precious in her heart. When her bonnet flies with the gust of wind, consequently covering one Colin Bridgerton’s face while riding, and consequently having him fall down his horse directly in a fresh puddle of mud, she is mortified, certain that she is about to ruin her life before it even began. But then he laughs – not to mock her, not in jest and not in anger, unlike any of her past experiences with a man’s laughter, especially thrown in her direction. He doesn’t even look angry, not at her anyway.

And Penelope falls, too, even if not quite literally as Colin. She’s not sure how she recognizes it exactly as love – maybe the desperate flutter of her heartbeat against her wrist, or the fact that she can’t quite unglue her eyes away from his face (though that seems like an overall Bridgerton issue). Regardless, the truth and weight of the moment hung deep in her chest. Instead, what she manages to say, between the warm blush and their mothers’ chatter, is just an apology.

“I’m the one who should apologize.”

But she has a meddling mama, and he’s nothing but a young man despairing at such nagging, and despite how much she cares for this first moment, she knows she doesn’t quite yet exist in his life. And then – with her debut, with her growing friendship with Eloise, she suddenly is.

***

“Enjoying the evening, Mrs. Featherington?” Colin asks, having materialized himself near the refreshments table.

Penelope chokes on her drink, her cheeks reddening, the fingertips of her gloves now stained.  She has been sipping at her glass for the best part of an hour now, wondering how much longer she can wait for everyone to get so drunk that they won’t notice her grabbing one of the cakes on the table. The answer is obviously an eternity, for a lady should never eat in mixed company, especially if she is a debutante. But although this is barely her fourth ball this season, Penelope has already learnt the most important lesson of her life: that she is not what others would necessarily call a catch. Just because that is true, however, doesn’t mean she can do as she pleases, no matter how incredibly tasty the chocolate cream might look to her right now.

Colin obviously seems to have no problem with such rules, as he pops a biscuit inside his mouth. This one Bridgerton son is known for his appetite in particular, and social circumstances seem to not make much of a difference to his need. And the amount of food he ingests seems to not make much of a difference on how handsome he is.

Penelope pushes her glass on the table, straightening her back, though she immediately hunches back, aware that she’s wearing one of her mother’s absolutely horrid choices, and hell-bent on making it as unobvious as possible.

“Absolutely entertaining,” she answers, though the enthusiasm in her voice most certainly does not match her words.

“I’d rather agree,” Colin retorts. “I haven’t been this bored since Anthony got drunk and drawled on about the responsibilities of the first son.”

“Mr. Bridgerton!” she says, raising her fan so she can hide her smile behind it.

“Keep it a secret, Mrs. Featherington, would you? The Bridgertons tend to be quite unforgiving about these things.”

She thinks of Eloise and her adorably brilliant tendency to throw a tantrum about every single thing that bothers her about her siblings, whom she loves very, very much at the same time, which only makes her smile even larger. They’re such a lovely family, and with time, they’ll only grow to seem even more so in her eyes.

She nods her head in agreement, meeting his eyes over the edge of her fan. He looks, suddenly, quite proud to have her on his side. From across the ballroom, Eloise spots them: sending a nasty look at Colin, and waving her friend over.

“And please, Colin,” he leans a bit to whisper this to her, as the orchestra starts playing another song. “As it seems we will be seeing each other quite a lot.”

“Then, Colin,” she breathes, the name still foreign in her mouth, the roll of it on her tongue so strange that she’ll test it out many times over, in the darkness of her room long after she’s supposed to be asleep. “You may call me Penelope.”

She tries not to fixate on the sound of her name in his mouth (or his mouth in general, that’d be a good idea as well), and fails immensely, everything Eloise tells her that night flying over her head.

***

Penelope isn’t sure when the habit actually started: serving her tea once a week in the company of the Bridgertons. Of course, the number always changes, depending on the day’s circumstances, but it’s always more lively than her own home, in the most pleasant sense. Even the gossip doesn’t feel as cutting in here, with the warm banter and somewhat friendly threats. Eloise is now entangled in a complicated conversation on the virtues of marriage with her sister Daphne, and they’re sure on two different sides on the topic. Violet Bridgerton, the matriarch, just sighs. She meets Penelope’s eyes over the heads of her children, and smiles in a kindest manner. Eloise just rejected her second marriage proposal, while her best friend is yet to receive even a caller in her drawing room.

She recognizes the smile as the pity it is, and yet even that doesn’t feel as bad in here. Penelope has always taken only what has been given to her and made the best out of it. It’s hard when that is actually nothing, indeed.

“Pen,” Colin greets, draping himself in an armchair close to the side of the sofa where she is seated.

He doesn’t yet know how incredibly appropriate this nickname of his is, which is why Penelope smiles so brightly when she turns towards him. Violet’s attention has already moved towards Hyacinth and George, her youngest children, fighting quite loudly over the same colour that they both want to use right now in their paintings. She fails exactly to notice Daphne’s on them now, maybe out of lack of familiarity with the eldest sister.

Colin hands her a piece of paper, and she raises her eyebrow at him before taking it. He’s immediately replacing it with a piece of cheese from the numerous platters on the table, and that’s how she knows he is, in fact, quite nervous about whatever this is about. So she opens the piece of paper.

“The itinerary for my Europe tour,” he provides, though it wasn’t necessary, as she obviously recognizes the most famous locations. “Wanted to know what you think.”

The paper almost slips from her hands, unfair as he is right now. Of course, he has no way of knowing that he’s asking the one who loves him what she thinks about having him away. Penelope manages to somehow smile in-between the thundering of her own heart.

“You’re asking the opinion of a soon-to-be-spinster who has never left London?”

Joking is safe, she can cover her misgivings so easily with some humour – and Colin is so good at picking it up, matching her in her banter.

“No,” he says, and his thumb is over his lips, where he’s licking a spot of jam, and Penelope is quite distracted by the sight of his tongue in-between his fingers. “I’m asking my friend.”

Her neck snaps with how quickly she moves to meet his gaze. There’s a warmth feeling spreading all through her body, overwhelming with how pleased she is at the simple fact that he considers her a friend, how shocked at such admission.

“Are we not? Friends, that is.”

“Of course,” she adds, a bit too fast, and he smiles.

“Then?” the tone of his voice now turns teasing again.

“Colin,” she says, and her mouth twists in a smile just at the syllables making up his name. “You’re a young man: if there’s a world out there you wish to see, all you have to do is go.”

Even if she has to say goodbye, even if she has to see him go, just because she knows it’ll make him happy.

***

Penelope can feel herself getting physically sick. It’s been years now, of her silent love growing and growing in her chest – and it would seem that this moment would destroy it all.

Colin, standing in-between his brothers, having just shouted at the top of his lungs that he will never marry one Penelope Featherington, looks quite livid now that the exact person has been standing in the doorway for long enough to have heard him. Their eyes meet, and she wishes, with all the strength she is capable of, that he would say something. She waits – five seconds: the eldest, Anthony, starts finding excuses for his brother, but there’s really nothing else she wants to hear right now.

She knows her hands are trembling, which is why she hides it by fisting the material of her dress. She knows her voice cracks, when she says his name, but that’s just because she will absolutely not cry in front of three perfectly fine gentlemen over something that is entirely her problem. All things considered, she thinks she handled the situation more gracefully than a lot of others would have.

And when the other Bridgerton men leave the room, and Colin is left stumbling through his apologies, she discovers how meaningless she actually finds them. Because even with her heart breaking exactly because of the one she loves, she finds herself unable to love him any less. Yes, her pride is wounded, but he has said nothing that she didn’t know so well so far.

“I assure you, it is quite alright.”

The pain is there, sharp and terrible – but she will play pretend and she will say whatever words he needs to hear right now, because while he was unnecessary cruel, he was never so in front of her, on purpose, and there’s no need for her to be mean in return. And most of all, because she loves him so desperately, she doesn’t want him to be pained over this, not like she is. Anguished, really, and when Colin shakes his head, knowing that whatever apologies he’s given aren’t enough, but certain enough that he can’t give more, she almost runs in her haste to get away from him.

To get somewhere where she can cry her feelings out. Though her love, as every time, always lingers.

***

Her mother should get an award for the most optimist person, seeing how even with two of her daughters married, she still insists on parading a third one through ballrooms and promenades, as unsuccessful as they prove each and every time, and as old as they both keep getting.

Her mother should also get an award for way less flattering awards, seeing how she insists on dressing her daughter in the most terrible, happy colours, and pointing at third-rate suitors even as they’re standing right in the middle of the ballroom and it’s incredibly embarrassing.

In her defence, once they’re there and once it’s obviously clear Penelope is as unsuccessful as during any other social gathering before, she is left pretty much alone the rest of the time. She’s a wallflower, so just standing on the side of the dance floor and looking awkward is what she does best. The worst part is that this situation puts one quite in the spotlight of everyone else present, especially those old enough to have no other occupation but gossip.

Violet Bridgerton elbows her son in his back, hard. Who knew his mother has such incredibly sharp bones, or such a demanding tone? Colin has been home for a total of two days before he’s been dragged to the first ball, and he’s allowed three sips of his drinks before all attention-seeking young debutantes and their sharp mamas accosted him (which included his own dear one). Colin balances his options, and without even hesitating, he walks across the room to join Penelope in her sulking.

“I imagine these fine gentlemen are all waiting for their chance,” he says, looking around at several old lords, twice her age, which he knows she would not consider an eligible match no matter how desperate, “but would you maybe do me the honour of the next dance?”

She snorts. “I see you’re back and as amusing as ever.”

“You find me amusing?” he asks, already grinning.

“Colin Bridgerton, I’m not complimenting you again, lest it gets to your head,” she retorts.

“I missed you too, Pen.”

And it’s true. He didn’t realise it until just this moment, when they’ve fallen to their usual dynamic with no bit of awkwardness, even after the past months with his absence. It shames him just the tiniest bit that it has taken his mother’s most unkind pressure to even come by her side.

The orchestra starts its next song, and he extends his arm to her, which she takes with a blush and a shy smile. He is in fact her first dance for the night, and she has no doubt it’ll be the only one as well, which is a shame, since she always quite enjoyed dancing. Dances with good partners are the highlight of a party. Dances with Colin Bridgerton are the highlight of the season.

“Thank you,” she says, and if Colin wasn’t already leaned quite close to her, he maybe would have missed it entirely.

***

Penelope really should have learnt better by now – that her heart is never entirely safe with Colin. Be it that he has a tendency to step all over it, or that it makes it beat so fast, that she starts understanding all the ladies who faint all over during a season.

Being engaged with him doesn’t really change the situation. Not when his kisses make her feel like everything that she’s considered so bad in herself is worth the entire world, and then more.

With his hands now swiftly unlacing her dress, the shadow of his room all around them – she finds she cannot keep another secret for this man that is to be her husband,

“I love you,” she sighs. “I have loved you for years.”

“I know.”

How unfair he is, to the bitter end. Even as he essentially accosted her in his carriage, even as he asked her to marry him, even as he defended her in front of her numerous family, getting offended on her behalf, getting worried on her behalf… Terrible man that she loves, terrible man that Colin is, he drags out his own admittance as long as possible.

And she loves him for it, too.

[durmstrange]

Bilingual - Fred Weasley

Welcome to my next Fred blurb!  This one was requested by anon and I’ve never written anything like it so I thought I’d give it a go.

Enjoy!

word count: 2,338

On a particularly sunny day, you sat on the ground with your legs crossed and a book in your lap, reading over your Potions content for the next exam you had coming up in just a few short days.  Silently, as you flipped the pages of you book so slowly, a snake you had come to know well, and would almost consider your pet, slithered up your arm and back down as slow as could be.

You didn’t mind it.  The feeling of the scales on your skin was once intimidating, but it had become like a second nature to you over time.  In fact, you found yourself missing the sensation on occasion when the snake, or any snake, really, was not there.  It was a foreign feeling you were no longer used to.  

As you sat alone, you were fully aware of the looks you were getting from the passing students.  You were beyond used to it by now.  After all, what fifteen-year-old student walked around with dangerous creatures on their arm?  After the fiasco in your fourth year with the Chamber of Secrets, you were used to being alone and you were used to the stares you got from others.

As time passed, you noticed a shadow looming over you as you read, causing a pulse you did not realize you had in your forehead to begin rhythmically thumping, and you looked up, beyond irritated with whoever was blocking the warm sunlight.  

“Aye, you know you have a snake on your arm, right?”  A comically confused voice asked as you squinted up at him, making out the quizzical face of Fred Weasley, a boy who was in your year but in Gryffindor house.  You had very little contact with him, and had even been the victim of one of his pranks, once.  Even through your anger, you found yourself amused with his joke, and had kept tabs on him since.

This question had caught you so off guard that you couldn’t help but to chuckle as you placed your hand on the ground, the snake slithering off quickly to get away from Fred as if he were the plague.   “I do, but thank you for the concern,” you told him airily once the snake scurried off into its hole not far from the tree.  Just as quickly as Fred started the conversation, you ended it as you returned your eyes to the book in your lap.  At least, you had thought.  

Fred remained looming over you, an insanely amused look on his face.  You knew he was not about to give up from the look on his face, and for some reason, you were not too irritated with it.  “Does it not bother you?”  He continued to questions and you sighed lightly, closing you book and squinting up to him once more.  Why was he standing right in the way of the sun? You could hardly see him and in the fall weather, the sunlight provided you with warmth that would otherwise make you wear a jacket.

“No, not at all.  Why would it?”  An ironic smirk began to form on your face as you tilted your hear to the side.  It was moderately surprising that he was one of the few people who did not know who you were.  Doesn’t he and his brother know everyone?

Fred laughed loudly as he reached his hand out to you to help you up.  “Well, for one, people are typically terrified of snakes.  And for seconds, if they aren’t, they surely don’t let the snakes crawl all over them,” he said as you placed your hand in his.  He pulled you up and you straightened your shirt out as you chuckled.  

With a charming smile on your face, you shook your head at his words.  “For one,” you began, imitating him, “snakes do not crawl, they slither.  For seconds, they have the tendency to not hurt you if you are able to speak with them,” you told him with a nervous smile on your face, ready for him to give you hell for your ability.

For a moment, Fred did not seem to understand. He had an odd look on his face as you stepped into the sunlight once more, sighing at the warmth returning.  Then, just seconds after his face was struck with realization, words fell from his mouth that you made you positive that he didn’t think about beforehand.  “No way! Wicked!  Parseltongue?”  He spoke far too excitedly for you to keep the laugh from forming in your throat.  “You have got to help me collect some snake venom!  Do you realize what properties it has?  It can coagulate just about anything and in small, microscopic doses, it is actually really good for you!  Not to mention is can make the consumer dizzy and hallucinate…” He rambled on about snake venom, which was oddly surprising for his character.

You laughed until your stomach hurt and finally put your hand up, stopping his talking as his face turned pink.  “All right.  You need to take a breath or you might pass out from getting too excited.  Besides, you don’t even know my name!”  You hit his arm lightly with your book.  The smile on his face seemed like it was so blissful but so foolish.

With a reddened face, Fred laughed.  “Sorry about that.  I’ve never met a parseltongue other than Harry Potter, but he is known for everything, so it is exciting to meet someone who is, you know, average.” With the smile remaining on your face, you lifted an eyebrow to him.  His face reddened even further as he laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.  “I mean—not that you aren’t special, or anything, but you really, surely are, but I mean average as in...” He paused and stopped in the middle of his sentence, signing. “I’m sorry,” he said sheepishly and gave you a slight frown.  

“It’s fine.  I am actually used to people subtly insulting me,” you replied back with a crooked smile on your lips.

Fred’s eyes widened.  “No, I wasn’t meaning to insult you,” he explained hurriedly with a panicked look on his face.  With your smile only growing further, you nodded.  “Let’s start over, yeah?”  he offered you with an embarrassed look on his face.  

You held your hand out to him.  “I’m (Y/N),”   You introduced yourself as he took your hand.

Again, Fred looked surprised.  “You’re (Y/N)?  The one who everyone thought was the Heir of Slytherin in fourth year?”  He questioned, drawing connections all together.  You felt his tone change, something you did not care much for.

With a roll of your eyes, you nodded.  “The very same.  Foolish, actually.  I am half-blood anyways and my magical father is the least intimidating or menacing man in the world,” you explained as you checked the old watch on your wrist.  It was getting close to dinner.  The slight pang in your stomach at the thought told you that you were hungry.

Fred hummed and nodded, but the look on his face told you that he was still so fascinated.  “So, were people mean to you, like they were to Harry?”  Fred continued to question without skipping a beat as you began walking slowly, him following your pace, and his eyes holding so many questions he wanted answered.  

You huffed, an angry, unforgiving noise, and looked away from Fred.  “Like you wouldn’t believe.  Bunch of fools, if you ask me.  Why is it that I am prejudiced for being bilingual when someone who speaks French and English is not?”  You asked Fred with an irritable tone in your voice.

He smiled a foreign smile to you and chuckled lightly. “When you put it that way, it does sound rather foolish,” Fred agreed and put his hands into the pockets of his pants.  “I suppose I own you an apology, then.  I told Harry on multiple occasions that it had to be you and not him being the Heir of Slytherin, given you were in Slytherin and all,” Fred explained to you and his eyes ducked to the ground.  With him trying to look away from you, you noticed how pretty his eyes were for the first time in this conversation.  

With a laugh, you shook your head.  “No need to apologize.  I’ve gotten it enough that I almost believed it at one point.  Fortunately, that is all behind us now.  Given that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back and all, as the true Heir of Slytherin,” you spoke so casually that it almost made Fred hesitant to be around you much more. Could this all be a sham and you were evil, truly?  He pressed his lips together and stared hard at you.  

“You believe Harry, then?”

Again, you chuckled, and leaned closer to Fred.  “Of course!”  You whispered to him.  “Between you and I, my father works with the Quibbler and a lot of the supportive opinions published come directly from him,” you murmured, trying to keep your voice down for anyone who could possibly be listening.  Fred hummed in reply, something that made you frown.  He didn’t believe you.  “You are being hesitant because I am in Slytherin, aren’t you?”  You asked him.  He did not respond.  “Well, if you doubt my character, you can ask Luna Lovegood, who has become close with Harry, about myself and my family, given that I have grown up with her,” you snapped, suddenly angry.  You were ill with the fact that he could be so thick.  You were a person after all, and the Slytherin crest was just something you were forced to wear.  “It is a shame.  I had really actually enjoyed speaking with you.”  You finished with one last biting sentence and stormed off, not even hungry for dinner anymore.

~.~

A couple days after your run-in with Fred Weasley, you found yourself to still be cross with him and his attitude.  What right does he have to judge you solely on what house you were in?  Or, was that it at all?  Did he judge you on everything, from being a parseltongue to your house, down to the clothes you wore and the way you spoke?  All of it made you feel sick and your stomach felt constantly unsettled as you went on with your life the same.

At times you were in the Great Hall, you sat as far away from Fred as you possibly could, typically alone and hidden in the crowd, with the idea that if he saw you less, the more he would forget about you.  You secretly had wished that you had never met him at all, but you were unable to turn back time and you had to deal with it regardless.

During dinner on a Friday night, you sat with a book in one hand and a fork with green beans on it in the other.  You were consumed in your book, like usual, and you were trying hard to ignore the world around you while you read.  This had become normal for you for dinners.  On occasion, you would sit with Luna or another fellow Slytherin who was a reject like you, but mostly, you filled the social aspect of your day with books.

As you ate slowly, a voice tore your attention from the words of the library book.  “Do you ever stop reading?”  Fred’s voice asked, causing you to look up with wide eyes as you swallowed the partially chewed food in your mouth, nearly choking on it.  You stared at him with a slightly irritated but mostly alarmed look on your face.  “Can I have a word?”  He asked you as he nodded towards the doorway of the Great Hall.  

With a sigh, you set your fork down and pushed your plate away from you.  You strangely knew you would not be coming back to your food.  You marked your page with a strip of parchment and stood, following Fred out of the Great Hall and into the Entrance Hall.  He came to a stop and you about bumped into him, but took a few steps back away from him.  

“I was rather rude, wasn’t I?”  Fred asked with a small, sheepish smile on his lips and you stood, clutching your book to your chest, and simply nodded.  “I would like to apologize for that.  I did some thinking, and talked to Loony Lovegood like you suggested, and I came to the realization that I had branded you with a dark image without even knowing you and I hate myself for that.  It drives me bonkers when people put assumptions to my person given my last name, and I should not go the same to you for who you are.” Fred explained with a frown growing on his lips.  His shoulders hunched forward and there was a look on his face you had not seen before. You knew too well that he regretted the way he acted and because of this, you gave a small nod.  Fred raised an eyebrow, and the small smile formed on his lips once more.  “So, can we start over?”  He asked hopefully and gave you the biggest, sweetest puppy eyes you had ever seen. You loved his eyes.

With a small chuckle, you nodded.  “Yes, we can, but keep in mind that this is the second time we are starting over.  Next time, I won’t be so forgiving,” you teased with a wide smile on your face as you looked away, trying to hide from his stare.

Fred smile, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and drawing you close to him. “Luckily, there won’t be a next time.  I think this is the second start to a wonderful friendship,” he promised you as you rolled your eyes at him.

“Technically third.”

[hysterialevi]

Hjarta | Chapter 11

Fanfic summary: In an AU where Eivor was adopted by Randvi’s family instead, he ends up falling in love with the man his sister has been promised to despite the arranged marriage between their clans.

Point of view: third-person

Pairing: Sigurd Styrbjornson x Male Eivor

This story is also on AO3 | Previous chapter | Next chapter

A WHILE LATER

BJORNHEIMR, THE LONGHOUSE

Pain. That was all he could see.

As Sigurd walked side-by-side with Ulfar through the longhouse’s doors, he heard nothing but the agonized groans of fallen warriors, and the devastated cries of survivors who were now mourning their loved ones.

The horrid stench of smoke and death clung stubbornly onto the wooden walls, and with so many fresh corpses now littering the village, they had what looked like a battlefield sitting on their very doorstep.

It was a nightmare come to life. Even though Sigurd was no stranger to the morbidity of war -- he had grown up in the midst of one, after all -- it was still enough to make his stomach churn, and his heart ache.

How could this have happened? And during such a joyous event as well? Today was meant to be a day for their clans to celebrate; to enjoy themselves. But instead, they were now taking shelter in the longhouse, and being forced to isolate themselves from the mayhem that lurked outside. 

It looked like Muspelheim itself had razed Bjornheimr’s streets, and frankly, Sigurd didn’t know how they were going to recover from this.

“Poor woman...” Ulfar said, gazing in Ingrida’s direction. At the moment, the seeress was holding Eirik’s body in her arms and gently stroking his forehead, comforting him as if he had contracted a simple ailment. Not a single word was being uttered from her lips, and yet, the lifelessness of her expression was enough to say everything.

“No parent should have to lose their child,” Ulfar remarked, his voice heavy with sorrow. “I can’t imagine what that woman is going through right now.”

The prince followed his line of sight. “What happened to Eirik? How did he die?”

“I have no idea. He approached me and Eivor at the temple just before the assault was launched... with three arrows in his back. He wanted me to tell Ingrida something, but... he slipped away before he could get the words out.”

The older man’s brow crinkled with anger. “Those bastards. Kjotve’s men didn’t even have the honor of giving Eirik a warrior’s death. They shot him down like a dog.”

Sigurd sighed in frustration, crossing his arms in a stern manner. “...How did this even happen? You and I spent so much time planning the defenses of this village. We cleared the forest of Kjotve’s camps. How is it that his people overwhelmed us so easily?”

Ulfar’s eyes narrowed with skepticism. “I have the same question. It’s possible that Kjotve’s been planning this for a while, but... still. I’d be lying if I said the efficiency of this attack wasn’t suspicious.”

Bringing their conversation to a halt, a nearby series of footsteps suddenly made its way into the building, drawing both the men’s attention to the doorway.

In the distance, Sigurd saw Eivor dragging himself into the longhouse with his father’s axe in hand, still as bleak as before. His head sank with a profound sense of melancholy, and his feet lingered behind him in a manner that made it seem as if chains holding him down.

At first, the prince expected Eivor to say something to Ulfar upon entry, but instead, he simply drifted past the two of them without a single word, and headed out into the training yard adjacent to the longhouse.

“...Do you think he’ll be alright?” Sigurd asked, watching as the man slipped away.

Ulfar shrugged. “I cannot say. Eivor has always been strong, but even the strongest of men have their weaknesses. Kjotve has caused him much pain ever since he was a child. It will take him time to recover from this battle.”

The prince’s voice softened at the thought of a recent memory. “...Eivor told me about his parents a while ago, you know. About how Kjotve killed them.”

“Then you understand the gravity of what happened today. Kjotve trying to kill Eivor in the same way he murdered Varin -- it’s an insult deserving of an axe to the chest. I’ll be surprised if the boy lets this go.”

Sigurd paused for a moment, allowing the realization to settle in. “...Eivor nearly gave up Valhalla in exchange for my survival. He was willing to die without a fight... just to ensure that I lived.”

Ulfar nodded, recalling his conversation with Eivor all those years ago. “Yes. Because in the end, you were more important to him than anything Valhalla could’ve offered. He spent the past thirteen years dreaming of the day he’d finally get revenge, and he sacrificed it for you. I hope you understand that, Sigurd.”

“Of course. I owe him my life.”

“Indeed.”

Sigurd decided to follow Eivor and began making his way out of the longhouse, hoping to catch the young man before he disappeared. 

“Wait here,” he told Ulfar. “I’ll go speak with him. I want to see how he’s doing.”

“Hold a moment.” The raider said, stopping Sigurd in his tracks.

“Yes? What is it?”

The older man fell silent for a second, pondering how to broach the subject.

“Before you go, Sigurd, there’s something else you should be aware of.” Ulfar lowered his voice, ensuring that no one else could hear him. “...I know about your relationship with Eivor.”

Sigurd’s heart skipped a beat, and the color drained from his face. “You-- what?”

“Eivor confided in me during the wedding,” Ulfar explained. “He had quite a lot on his mind, and was willing to tell me about your affair. Have no fear, though. I won’t expose your secret. He entrusted me with this matter, and I have no intentions of betraying that trust. However, there is something I need to make clear.”

The prince listened intently, worried about where this was going. “...Alright, then. Speak your mind.”

The raider crossed his arms. “It pains me to separate Eivor from someone who makes him happy, but for the sake of this alliance, I must insist that you keep things at a platonic level if you wish to console him. I realize it’s not always that easy, but our clans need each other to win this war. If your marriage with Randvi falls apart, so does our bond.”

Sigurd took his words to heart, regardless of how reluctant he may have been to accept reality.

“I understand, Ulfar. You have nothing to fear. I wouldn’t jeopardize this marriage.”

Ulfar didn’t look entirely convinced. “I hope so. You have my trust for now, Sigurd, but just remember -- I don’t give it blindly.” He turned away from the prince, dismissing him with a wave of the hand. “Anyway, go and see Eivor. I imagine he’s somewhere in the training yard. If the two of you wish to join me later, I’ll be speaking with the jarl and your father in the war room. We have much to discuss.”

“I will.”

“Look after that boy, Sigurd,” Ulfar said, striding to the front of the longhouse. “He cares about you more than you realize.”

~~~~~~~~~~

THE TRAINING YARD

Stepping back out into the open, Sigurd welcomed himself into the deserted training yard as he scanned the area for Eivor, admittedly reluctant to wander through the aftermath of the recent battle. The thick scent of smoke and ash immediately smacked him across the face once he was outside, and even now, he could still feel the heat of the raging fires consuming their entire village.

He imagined Eivor’s state of mind must’ve been dire, if he was willing to take solace in an environment like this. Bjornheimr was hardly recognizable after the chaos Kjotve wreaked, and yet, the young man found it preferable to staying within the confines of the longhouse.

Sigurd supposed it was understandable, considering his exchange with the enemy. Kjotve could’ve cut Eivor down in the midst of a proper holmgang, but instead, he decided to do something worse. He took away his honor.

He degraded the Wolf-Kissed with the same impossible dilemma he once thrust upon Varin, and now, the nightmare would only haunt Eivor again. The gods would know of his swift surrender and declare it as an action of cowardice, and he would likely receive judgement from his fellow clan members.

In Sigurd’s eyes though, the man was a hero. He sacrificed one of the greatest honors known to Midgard in exchange for his family’s safety, and he did so with barely any hesitation. He displayed more courage than Sigurd had ever seen from anyone else in his life, and yet, he would have to reclaim his honor simply because he was willing to put down his axe.

It was a series of events laden with unfairness in Sigurd’s opinion, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to change it nonetheless.

Roaming closer to the training yard, Sigurd’s head perked up in interest when the sound of metal scraping against wood suddenly reached his ears, drawing his focus to a nearby tree. There, he saw Eivor himself fervently slashing his axe against the trunk, letting out occasional shouts of anger.

His movements were erratic and driven by rage, and at certain points, the prince even feared he might chop down the whole tree. Eivor seemed to be trapped in a tempest of fury that Sigurd had never witnessed in the past, and frankly, he was concerned about the man’s well-being.

“Eivor?” He called out. The younger man swung his axe one more time before coming to a halt, giving Sigurd no more than a brief glance.

“...What?” He replied sharply, speaking through rapid breaths.

The prince approached his friend, careful not to provoke him any further.

“I don’t mean to disturb you,” he said gently, “but... I was worried. You disappeared from the longhouse so quick. I wanted to see how you were doing.”

Eivor turned around, revealing the glower that had been branded into his face.

“How do you think I’m doing?” He snapped, lodging the weapon’s blade into the wood. “The gods granted me the chance to kill Kjotve after thirteen years... and I wasted it! He was right there. He was right in front of me. I could’ve done something -- anything! Even if it killed me, it would’ve been better than surrendering!”

He stormed away from the tree and began pacing around the yard, attempting to recompose himself.

“By Odin, I’m such an idiot. I’ve spent my entire life preparing for this moment. Waiting for it. I’ve endured countless days of training, planning -- everything you can think of. I’ve placed offer after offer at the feet of the gods, just begging them for the chance to bury my axe in Kjotve’s chest. And what do I do when they finally give it to me?” Eivor kicked a rock resting by his feet. “I walk away.”

Sigurd gazed at the man in sympathy, wishing he could comfort him somehow.

“Don’t be so quick to dismiss yourself, Eivor. You may have let Kjotve slip from your grasp for now, but remember why you did it. You did it to save your family. You did it to save me. I... I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t shown up. I owe you my life.”

Eivor plopped himself on the ground and sat against the longhouse’s walls, staring upwards at the smoke-riddled sky.

“Perhaps I should be proud of myself, then,” he said, “but I’m not. If anything, I just feel like a fool. I feel like... like I’ve failed my father. Like I’ve wasted everything he did for me.”

Sigurd took a seat next to the Wolf-Kissed, allowing his feet to rest for the moment. “You’re too hard on yourself, drengr. Your father would understand. He was once in the same position as you, after all. Not only that, but he also made the same choice. He would be proud of your sacrifice.”

Contrary to what the older man expected, Eivor only seemed to grow more bitter.

“I guess. But-- why are you even here? I thought you’d be in the longhouse, looking after the villagers with Randvi. What are you doing out here talking to me?”

“Randvi has her own duties to take care of, and so do I. But I wanted to see you first. Just because I’m married now doesn’t mean I don’t care about you anymore, Eivor.”

The man shook his head. “Well, you shouldn’t. You can’t afford to care about me, Sigurd. You have a wife now. A future queen. She’s the one you need to be focused on. Not me.”

Sigurd was admittedly taken aback by the coldness in his tone, but brushed it off nonetheless. He knew Eivor was hurting at the moment, and it felt wrong for him to hold that against him.

“Eivor...” he said softly, “listen to me. Kjotve may have escaped from our grasp today, but we are not letting him go. Ulfar is devising a plan in the war room as we speak. We will find him again. You will get your chance.”

The young man sighed out of exhaustion, causing his shoulders to slouch. “...I hope so. I’ve fought too hard for this war to end now. I can’t let Kjotve get away. Not when I’m so close. I just pray that the gods will deem me worthy of a second chance.”

Sigurd gave him a reassuring nod. “They will. This fight isn’t over yet, Eivor. In fact, it’s hardly begun. We haven’t seen the last of Kjotve. I know it.”

Eivor dragged a hand down his face and drifted off into silence, staring at the clouds of smoke forming in the distance. By now, they had completely blotted out the sapphire embrace of the sky above, and darkened the land beneath with a looming shadow.

Particles of ash fluttered through the air like autumn leaves twirling in the wind, and in the distance, Eivor saw nothing but a shroud of fire obscuring the horizon beyond.

As for the man himself, he seemed to have calmed down somewhat compared to when Sigurd first arrived. A glimmer of hope had returned to the blankness of his empty gaze, but a grim veil of despair still clung onto his expression. He had lost every shred of the motivation that once fueled him, and even now, the pain of losing a loved one to an arranged marriage continued to pester him.

“...Kjotve ruined my life that night, you know.” Eivor said, devoid of any emotion. “He took away my family, my home -- everything that I loved. The only life I ever knew was stolen from me in an instant, and the whole world shifted into something that I no longer recognized.” The young man peered at his companion, still leaning against the wall. “...He must die, Sigurd. Not just for me, but for everyone he’s hurt.”

The prince rested an elbow on his knee. “Kjotve’s judgement will come. The gods know of his cruelty just as we do. The Nornir will cut his thread soon enough.”

“Then let’s pray that I live long enough to witness that day.”

Taking a second to gather himself, Eivor broke free from the cage barring his mind for just a moment and looked Sigurd in the eye, returning to the same man the prince knew so well.

“...Anyway. Thank you for coming to check on me, Sigurd.” He whispered. “I appreciate it. I apologize if I was somewhat... harsh earlier. I’m just so lost right now.”

Sigurd wasn’t bothered. “I understand. We all have a breaking point. Even you. What’s important is that you don’t let it hold you down forever.”

“I know,” he acknowledged. “But sometimes, the temptation to give up is almost irresistible. The idea of being able to forget about all this, and live my life without fear or conflict -- it’s something that grows more alluring by the day. But I know I can’t let myself fall prey to these thoughts. I need to stay focused. I need to keep fighting. Even if it leads me into the Valkyries’ arms.”

Sigurd leaned closer to Eivor and placed a hand over his, mindlessly stroking it as if it were second nature.

“Well, wherever this path takes us, just remember that I’m here for you. You’ve saved my life multiple times already. It’s the least I can do.”

Suddenly realizing what he was doing, the prince came to an abrupt pause and instantly retreated his hand, silently cursing himself for not putting a leash on his affections. He backed away from Eivor and averted his eyes, stumbling over his next words.

“...F-Forgive me. I didn’t mean to--”

“--It’s alright.” Eivor interrupted. “You don’t have to explain.”

A deep sigh escaped Sigurd’s lips. “I just don’t understand why it’s so difficult to ignore the way I feel. I’m a married man now. Shouldn’t that be enough to hinder my fondness for you? Why does this always happen?”

The younger man offered some advice. “The best thing you can do right now, Sigurd, is to avoid me entirely. We both know how challenging it is to conceal our true thoughts. Perhaps we shouldn’t give them the chance to cross our minds at all.”

“But I can’t just pretend like you don’t exist. I still want you in my life, Eivor. I still want to be near you. We may not have the option of being together like before, but you’re not somebody I want to forget.”

Eivor’s face dimmed with sorrow. “Well, you may have to. For the sake of this alliance. Things are precarious enough as it is. We can’t risk anyone else finding out about our previous encounters.”

Sigurd disagreed. “You’re important to me. Nothing’s going to change that, no matter how much I may have to restrain myself. I just wish things were easier.”

The older man decided to put this conversation to an early end and rose from the ground, not wanting to let his emotions fester any longer.

“Anyway... I should get going. I imagine Ulfar’s still speaking with the jarl, and I’d like to join him. Do you want to come with me?”

Eivor refused the offer. “I’d rather be alone right now. I’ve had enough of discussing war and politics for one day.”

“Of course, I understand. You must be exhausted. Take this time to get some rest. I’ll tell you the outcome of our discussions later.” Sigurd took a few steps away from the Wolf-Kissed, leaving him alone on the ground. “Well then, I guess I’ll see you around, Eivor. Please, stay safe. Now that we know Kjotve is merely a stone’s throw away from Bjornheimr, I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

The young man remained seated on the grass. “The same goes for you, Sigurd. Be careful out there. You’re the last person I want to lose.”

“Oh, believe me,” Sigurd replied, “I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”

[braindeacl]

Into the Thick of It (Ugh) | Eilidh & Nicole

SETTING: White Crest National Park. TIMING: Recent. Late at night. PARTIES: @nicsalazar & @braindeacl SUMMARY: Eilidh and Nicole go on a search to find Bigfoot. They run into his weird cousin.  WARNINGS: N/A

With the light of the moon to guide her way, Eilidh trekked further and further within the wood. The cosmic luminescence looked gently down upon her, but with each step, it grew weaker and weaker. Trees blended with the sky until nothing separated the two. Before the darkness could fully engulf her, claim her in its wide embrace, she stopped. And waited. The only indication she was there was her flashlight—a beacon.

Typically, Eilidh wasn’t one for the night shift. Personally, she’d rather be snuggling with Tulip. Especially for something so trivial. What was this, the fourth case of boy-who-cried-bigfoot? What first caused excitement and wonder, now caused a scoff. Not that she was a skeptic. Anything was possible, and Bigfoot was not beyond the limits of her imaginations. But, with that fear locked into everyone’s mind, anything lurking in the corner of your eye could be a ‘monster’. So it very well could be a bear. The past three times it was a bear or something else of the sort. But there had been multiple sightings of this specific ‘Bigfoot.’ A part of her dared to hope that finally, finally she’d be able to see it. Regardless of its name, it had been seen earlier heading the very same direction Eilidh stood now. It was her job to help investigate the whatever-it-was, give it a name and show what it truly was—just another creature, supernatural or not. Or, at the very least, make sure whatever-it-was wasn’t causing any harm to the local flora and fauna. As of yet, she hadn’t seen anything out of the ordinary. Especially by White Crest’s low standards.

The sudden return of light caught her eye, and she directed her own at the source. “Hey, Nic!” Eilidh offered a brief wave. “Would’ve waited for you further back. But got bored.” With her flashlight, she motioned forward. Enveloped in illumination, the forest was almost inviting. “Let’s go check on this B-b-b-biiigfoot.”

Nicole thought going back to work would fix most of her problems. Less time sitting at home with nothing to do, meant less time to deal with the demons in her head. So work? A pretty fucking good distraction— in theory. But in reality, it didn’t turn out that way. She was doing terribly at her job too. But she was still adjusting, right? She was still adjusting, she kept telling herself, despite being back for weeks now. It didn’t help that the Park was nothing but chaos after the news of a Bigfoot sighting broke out. The same reports that happened every couple of months or so, Nicole had learned after the first few the dozens of briefings she had attended over the years. Yet the bastard was never found. And they were left to deal with the chaos that was dealing with the increase in visitors flocking to the park in hopes of catching the monster with their cameras, putting themselves in danger in the process. 

 Apparently the Park wanted a more hands on approach this time, and Nicole ended up getting roped into the investigation the foresters were supposed to do. Her first field activity since coming back to work. The night shift was always dangerous, but never as terrifying as the office hours, so to walk around the woods searching for a non-existent beast looked like a fine alternative. Finally being back on the trails would be a good thing. 

 Nicole ventured deep into the forest,  swaying her flashlight lazily. She had no use for it when she had other senses to pick up on anything strange. And soon enough, she found her companion for the night. She liked Eilidh, even if her very tense demeanor didn’t read that way. “Hey…” her lips pressed into a thin smile, unsure how to feel about the nickname. But that ship sailed the first time they met. “Right” she nodded, following the woman a few steps behind. “You know...this is the first time they’ve wanted us to see what the fuck is out there. I’m not sure if that’s— you haven’t heard any rumors...right?”  

Eilidh quirked an eyebrow. “Rumors?” The location this supposed creature kept frequenting was a bit concerning, or a bit intriguing, depending on your mindset. It was in one of the many parts of the forest that seemed to attract supernatural creatures like flies to a corpse. And it was peculiar its classification had yet to be determined. The Park was typically so quick, so determined, so desperate to uncover the source of odd activities. Activities they would only be publicly hinted at—only enough to maintain safety. So, talk of the truth was discouraged. Having too many noses sticking themselves into where they didn’t belong always led to issues. Curiosity may kill the cat. Or exposure of the supernatural community, and with the popularity that Bigfoot carried, such publicity would be far and wide and deadly. Either way, death could be found at the conclusion.

Despite the concerns, tales still circulated around the town, as they always did. She couldn’t help a chuckle as she recalled one. “Aye. Supposedly some guy saw this ‘Bigfoot’ digging up flowers near here. Maybe he fucked up. Needs a bouquet for Mrs. Bigfoot.” The scenario played in the back of her mind, and that chuckle twinkled again in the back of her throat. Without breaking her stride, she fished out a handful of wildflowers from her backpack. “So, I brought this as a peace offering.” There was a pause, and it was here that her stride did falter for a moment, as she replayed the conversation in her head. “Or, wait. You mean this place?” The two found themselves heading into a part of the Park shrouded in mystery, especially to regular citizens. And mystery always gave birth to hearsay. 

Nicole already assumed that anyone who worked at the National Park knew about the supernatural. One way or the other. It was just the way the job went. Every now and then, weird shit was bound to happen. People died. Rangers died. So she didn’t second guess herself, the usual apprehension gone from her voice as she caught up to Eilidh. “Rumors...” she repeated, redirecting her flashlight to the ground. Wasn’t Bigfoot supposed to leave giant footprints? “Before—  the last couple of times this happened… I don’t know if you—” she trailed off. The other woman was newer at the job, she couldn’t recall if she had dealt with it before. “The park used to ignore the whole Bigfoot shit”. Their plan always entailed warning people about bears to keep them away. And add more patrolling, so much more patrolling. It hadn’t been exactly successful. So she couldn’t fault the Park for wanting to try a new approach. “So I was thinking— I don’t know, maybe... they really do think there's a monster out there this time. And it’s not just… a wild animal”. 

Nicole couldn’t remember being so deep into that side of the park before. Perks of the job. She was never done discovering things. Her partner's joke felt out of place, considering the danger they could be dealing with, but somehow it managed to ease the tension she had been carrying for most of the day.  She made sure to keep her chuckle quiet enough. It was a good thing that Eilidh seemed in good spirits at least. It would make the night shift more bearable. “And we’re about to walk into them having a fight? Ah shit... it’s not too late to go back” she mumbled, eyes darting quickly around the dark. She had to keep her senses open if she wanted them to stay safe. She was ready to run at the first sign of the beast. No more playing hero for her. A branch snapped at the distance, and Nicole tensed immediately. “Heard something move” she held her arm up to stop Eilidh. “I think…” she added, because fuck, she couldn’t be sure of anything in her life anymore. She nudged the flashlight in the direction of the sound, but took no steps. “Probably just an animal, but...” she hated that she couldn’t go ahead and investigate. She was scared of many things, but it had never interfered with her job before.

Monster. Unless she meant some great evil decided to spend its free time spooking and inconveniencing tourists, Eilidh assumed what Nicole meant was something supernatural. Eilidh hated when it was used that way. To describe a creature beyond normal human comprehension; to look at a living being’s nature and condone it for something it couldn’t control. “It wouldn’t be a monster.” Her voice was suddenly curt. “Just another animal. Supernatural or not.” Hopefully, whatever it may be, it was something they could handle. 

Eilidh perked at the continuation of her quip. It was still exciting when Nicole decided to play along, indulge her, so she wouldn’t waste this moment. “If we don’t help, how will they save their marriage?” But as Nicole’s hand rose, her brief return to good humor was cut short. She stopped, perplexed. Her head began to swivel, trying to pick up anything on her end, but her ears only perceived the typical ebb and flow of a forest at rest. Even when the direction was pointed out to her, nothing new became apparent. So, she sought help from her secret friend. With the slightest of motions, she jerked her chin forward—a signal, a command. After a tense moment, answers were brought, but they weren’t very enlightening. It was very dark, after all, and James had trouble seeing much of anything. But he still could hear. Eyes locked on the invisible figure, Eilidh’s expression became even more confused as he laid out what he heard. “Oom oom?” She mouthed. 

Ooooooom ooooooom answered. Within seconds, some of the distant trees illuminated by Nicole’s light began to shake, overwhelmed with a sudden weight. Eilidh looked up. Something looked back. 

“Yeah, you don’t know that…” Nicole mumbled to herself, aware of how unconvincing she sounded. Maybe Eilidh did have more knowledge, but she didn’t want to have the monster argument with anyone else. She couldn’t see herself changing her opinion on that. “Just hope you’re right” she let out a weary sigh, knowing hope hadn’t been on her side lately.  “I don’t think they’re paying us enough for that” a laugh caught in her throat. The atmosphere changed so quickly between them that she had no time to wipe the grin off her face. “Shit...shit” The forest floor shook under them, and the rustling of the trees was followed by an ominous—  Voice? Nicole wasn’t sure. A few months ago, the noise wouldn’t have stopped her. The noise would’ve been an invitation to go on and get more answers. Meet the mysterious creature in the heart of the woods. God she used to be stupid. The realization wasn’t new, but it was good to add more proof to it. 

“Back up” Nicole tried to grab Eilidh’s shirt, but she was out of her reach. “Hey!” she called again, the ground shaking made it hard to keep her balance. She lowered her flashlight. She could make out the tall shadow — much taller than both of them— pacing between trees. The thought of switching to her night vision briefly crossed her mind. No, no. There was no point in doing that. She’d draw more attention glowing in the dark. The creature, monster...whatever it was continued to approach, coming to a sudden stop right when Nicole was ready to pick up Eilidh and bolt. “Whatever that is— we should fuck off” words spilled out of her mouth with urgency. Fuck that. She had learned her lesson. But the giant figure didn’t seem interested in them, instead lowered its body to the ground and poked with a giant hand something she couldn’t make out. Her nostrils flared, hoping a scent would clue her in. It was something familiar. Something she had been close to recently. Something she could smell on her partner’s clothes sometimes. “Eilidh” she whispered, and for once she didn’t think about how uncomfortable it was to call someone by their first name. Shivers ran down her spine when she finally processed the smell. “Uh, do we— you know of any missing people reports around the area?”

Like the first sight of the sun after a storm, the scent overcame Eilidh—blinding. Flesh spiced with death. Oozing sweet liquids she wished to lick. Her teeth gave an involuntary chatter before it was cut short as she dug her nails into her hands, threatening to puncture. If Nicole weren’t around, she’d be tempted to play tug-of-war with the meal, test this creature’s might. Or perhaps even share. She only really wanted one part, anyhow. But eating a corpse in front of a coworker would doubtfully result in anything positive. Damn. Instincts were gripped tight and dampened—the action made part of her feel hollow. Doubt that’s the infamous Bigfoot. She couldn’t recall ‘eating hikers’ being mentioned in that Bigfoot conspiracy documentary James made her watch. Double damn. But, this was still turning into a fascinating mystery, because the question still remained: what the fuck was that? Captivated by the mystique of the unknown, eyes wide in wonder, she almost was left unaware of her companion’s high nerves. The use of her first name brought her back. Momentarily she felt exposed, anger arriving as a defense. But distraction soon came. Missing people. Right. Where did the body come from? It seemed like this creature was scavenging, not hunting. Where was the hunter? “Nothing specific,” she lied, though she truthfully had no idea who the corpse once was, “but people disappear all the time. There’s plenty options.”

Eilidh wanted, needed, to get a closer look. At least a small peek. What was the cause of death? Could this be chalked up to a creature or being that couldn’t finish a meal. A freak accident. Or something unneeded, something out of passion rather than survival. Something human. Ignoring Nicole’s signals to retreat, she took a step forward. Craning her neck, trying to see the body without notice. As the creature whipped its head back, it was evident she failed. She froze. It simply flared its nostrils in response: a sniff. Then, it stood. She bared her teeth, a hiss whistled passed her exposed canines. It sniffed again. Disregarding its previous engagement, the creature inched closer. It was only then she began to back up, to the best of her ability as the ground shivered below her under its might. Despite that, she remained focused on the creature. Her hand quickly moved to the dagger hidden under her skirt. Though unsheathed, she kept the weapon close to her hip. She did not want a fight. 

Nicole let out a grumble in agreement. People disappeared all the time. There was a reason everyone signed the waiver at the entrance. The bodies they were able to find were the lucky ones. “Right,” like the one in front of them, about to become food for a mysterious creature. Yeah, so fucking lucky. They remained quiet, watching the beast poke the body. Maybe it wasn’t that good of a meal. She swallowed, considering the very real possibility that maybe, it prefered fresher food. She reached for Eilidh's arm again, not taking her eyes off the danger. Only then she noticed her partner had gone and moved closer. Her hands balled into fists, resisting the urge to yell at her. She hated the small part of her that couldn’t blame the woman for her curiosity. Not long ago, she would’ve loved to be close to what was one of the biggest mysteries in the world. If it was Bigfoot at all. But she wasn’t sure how willing she was to risk her life at the park after everything she had gone through. 

The thought of not fitting the job she loved so much anymore wasn’t something Nicole wanted to deal with yet. She couldn't consider it. She gripped the flashlight tighter, forcing herself to step forward to meet Eilidh.

The creature picked up on their presence, but it wasn’t until Nicole heard Eilidh’s hissing that she dared to say anything. And— she really had to wonder if she heard that right. “Are you... out of your fucking mind?” she scoffed, eyes wide as she looked between the monster and the woman. “Macleod” she called, her voice colder. She was addressing a coworker, not the person who made her feel more comfortable than anyone at the Park. The beast examined them for a moment. Or rather, it examined Eilidh. It was as if Nicole didn’t exist. She held her breath until the beast lost interest and started munching on the dead body’s...hair?  It was a nasty sight. 

She couldn’t be the person who stood behind and let other people take the lead anymore. Nicole grabbed Eilidh’s cold hand, giving it a forceful pull.”That’s it, we came—  we saw — we can go back a-and warn everybody else. Let’s just get the fuck away. Or— or we’re gonna be the fucking main course!”. Her sudden movement alerted the creature once again. It discarded the rest of the body, eyes glowing with new interest at the sight of Eilidh. That was it, they were about to be eaten. It was safe to say she didn’t think what she did next. Blurting out a quick apology, she swiftly wrapped her arm around Eilidh’s mid section and lifted her off the ground. The flashlight shaking in her hand pointed everywhere but ahead, but Nicole knew to just get one step in front of the other as fast as possible.

Glowing eyes locked onto ones of the dead. Eilidh met that gaze in full, unbreaking—I’m a threat, leave me alone. Perhaps taking the hint or perhaps finding the action as a bluff, the creature returned to its half-finished meal. But instead of flesh, hair was the food of choice. Interesting. The large and impressive figure, the hair covering every inch, the selective diet. Why did this feel familiar? While the reciprocity was lost, she continued to stare, to watch. A thought started to form, a forgotten memory. Wiggling its way to the surface.

A grasping hand broke the recollection, slamming her back into reality, as the memory returned to the back of her mind. The sudden change left her momentarily disoriented; she moved to slap the offending hand on instinct. But a familiar voice came to her ears. Worry was clear in Nicole’s words, and for a moment a small pang of guilt rested in Eilidh’s chest for keeping her in this situation. Guilt quickly boiled into anger as her world turned topsy-turvy, body hoisted—unwillingly—onto Nicole’s shoulder. “Hey!” But the heated yell was cut short by the sight before her. The creature had entirely disregarded the body, choosing to pursue them instead. Usually if an animal discarded a meal, it was due to surrounding dangers, realization of spoiled parts, or a tastier option presented itself. The way the creature stared, as if trying to find her soul and judging her acceptable, at her and only her—it looked to be the third option. Sensation prickled down her spine. Maybe it was fear. But it was mostly excitement.

Feet crashed down onto the helpless ground. Hands reached out for her. Almost touching the strands of hair that whisked into view by the moving air. Before it could grab hold, the knife that still sat gripped in her hand struck out, hitting the creature on the palm. “No.” It let out a bellow. The other enlarged hand shot out, quicker this time. Tension riddling the fingers, whether preparing for an attack or preparing to attack. But instead of striking again, Eilidh slashed at her own hair. A few pieces detached, floated in the hair for just a moment. Until they were swallowed whole. Momentarily stalled by the action, the two were able to gain some distance from the pursuing animal. But the moment passed, and it snapped its attention back to her. In turn, she craned her neck back to look at Nicole. “‘Preciate the help but let me down.” There was no reason to drag Nicole into this. So, she started to wiggle out of the grip, but found the hold stronger than anticipated. Huh? Another attempt was made; more force was applied, but not much changed. A growl escaped her: a pinned animal. Kicking and scratching wasn’t off the table. 

The monster decided to follow them. Of course it did. Why would anything be easy when it could be a shitshow? Navigating an unknown part of the woods was never simple, even for Nicole who always seemed to find her way around the trickiest of forests. Doing so while giant feet made the floor shake underneath them sure added difficulty to the experience. “Stop! Moving!” Carrying Eilidh on her shoulder while she tried to fight the beast? really pushing it. And— why was she trying to fight the creature? Nicole didn’t know. Being stupidly reckless had to be a requirement for the job. The monster was hot on their tails, and judging by Eilidh’s roar it had managed to touch her. Why was it obsessed with her? She just squeezed the woman tightly and focused all her energy on not taking a false step, because it would be the end of them if she did. For some reason, the giant steps halted briefly and Nicole didn’t hesitate to twist between trees, making it harder for it to follow. Blood pounding in her ears, all she knew was that she had to keep going, until they reached ground even enough to run at full speed. Then she’d find the jeep she left at the entrance of the trail and they’d be safe. 

Initially she didn’t hear Eilidh’s complaint, her attention narrowed to one particular goal: escaping. It was only when she to wiggle her way out of her grip that her focus shifted. She huffed. Fuck that, if she was gonna run back to fight the beast, she wasn’t letting her touch the ground again. But as Eilidh twisted with more persistence she relented, forgoing any gentleness before she put her back down. She gripped Eilidh by the shoulders, standing tall to shield her in case the beast pounced again. “What the fuck were you thinking?” she panted harshly, but worried eyes scanned the woman’s hair. What kind of beast had that fucked up diet? “We need to warn—” at the distance, it was hard to miss that the creature was on the move again. What were they going to do? Wait and attack now prepared with a plan, or retreat? Her mind was made up, she wanted to go, but she was not going to leave Eilidh behind. She had the means to outrun the beast again if it came down to it. She met the woman’s gaze, regretting the words already forming in her head. “Whatever it is that you’re— that’s already going through your fucking head... it’s gonna include me, no matter how insane. So... all I’m saying is— really think about it”.

Wish granted, Eilidh was plopped onto the ground. But before she could turn attentions back to the pursuing beast, hands were placed firmly upon her shoulders. Pinned again. But a growl did not escape like before. It was tempted to, as Nicole’s sharp words greeted her ears, making herself sharp, prickly as well. “How ‘bout you–” But when she looked up, saw the worry in Nicole’s eyes, she couldn’t fuel the irritation for much longer. She paused for a moment—not sure how to answer the question. She had just been… reacting. And it was no time to try and come up with any form of reason. Thud, thud, thud, the creature’s feet banged against the helpless floor, tremors underfoot growing stronger as it closed the distance. Thuds like the tick of a watch, each sound indicating their time was running out.

Legs itched to run, to act, to no longer be stuck waiting and pondering, but that hold on her shoulder still remained. But it no longer acted as an anchor; with Nicole’s words, it became a link, binding the two together. Acting on the first thought that moved to the forefront—since Nicole insisted on involving herself—she placed the blade back against her hair. It cut into her braid, severing the end from the rest. With the secured ribbon removed, her hair unfurled, wild and untamed against her neck, and several inches shorter than earlier that day. She handed the detached braid to Nicole. “I’ll go left. You go right. Lead the fucker so far into the woods no one will see ‘em again.” She smacked her lips. “Hopefully.” The creature was reaching out for her again, two meters away, then one, then none. Before it gained a hold of her, she leapt back. In its momentum it stumbled forward, trying to make that sharp corner but long limbs prevented such agility. Not waiting for it to regain its footing, she turned to run, back amongst trees. “Keep ‘em off me and I’ll keep ‘em off you!” Her yell bounced off the trees, the only reminder of her presence as she disappeared into the darkness. 

Nicole was firm on her decision. She was not going to play hero again. She was not. She was n— except, even in the dim light she could tell that Eilidh was absolutely thinking about going back. Fuck. She flinched at her swift move, not expecting the woman to lift her blade again and slash her own hair. “Jesus, what—” she raised her hands to stop her, but she ended up grabbing her braid instead. Nicole stared at it with a blank expression, unsure on how to feel.  Thanks? She didn’t have time to process any of it, because Eilidh was talking again, this time to explain her plan. “You—you want me to…” brows furrowed, she waited in silence for more details, until she realized there was nothing more to the plan. It was short and straightforward. Confuse the fuck out of the beast. She would be doing her job, really. Keeping visitors safe by running the creature off. She understood then, the meaning of Eilidh’s hair in her hand: the scent would attract the creature to her, while her partner did the same on the other side. It was smart enough. At least they wouldn’t be trying to fight against it. 

She let out an exasperated sigh, realizing she was already convinced. There wasn’t certainty that the creature wouldn’t come back, lured by the scent of corpses, but if they could do their part to keep it as far away from the trails and the visitors’ cameras, it was worth a shot. The floor shook again and Nicole knew there was no time to discuss anything else. She watched Eilidh escape the creature’s grasp and take off in the opposite direction, following her part of the plan. All by herself, she wondered what was it about Eilidh's hair that made her so irresistible compared to her own. As they predicted, the giant monster went with its favorite. “Hey!” she called, lifting her hand and waving the braid. She took a few steps, preparing for a run, hoping it would be enough to get the beasts attention. Luckily for them, the creature stumbled and turned in her direction. Nicole had to keep the surprise to herself, jogging through the trees to keep the beast away from her colleague.  

Darkness began to envelop them again, the trees shielding the moonlight as they entered unknown territory. Even when Nicole could hardly see anymore, Eilidh’s light steps were easy to pick up in comparison to the rumbling caused by the beast. They just had to keep going— for how long? she wasn’t sure.

The creature was in pursuit, mirroring Eilidh’s pace step for step. But its gait was wider, legs a great pine to her samplings. The space between shortened with each thud of its feet, shortened even further as those desperate arms reached out. Just as fingertips grazed the hairs on the nape of her neck—threatening to close, caught in its trap—her own trap sprung. Nicole baited the creature her way, the same enticing hairs, her hairs, waving in the air. The creature followed. As the same fate began to fall upon Nicole, Eilidh beckoned it her way. It followed again. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Delicious hairs always so close and yet so far. Equally compelled to chase both, it found itself somewhere in the middle: never able to meet, never able to feed. Eilidh stifled an amused snort as it came and failed once more to secure a hold on her. 

The darkness grew thicker, tighter. Sometimes it felt like she was stuck in an abandoned realm. A single dot in a sea of black expanse. The periodic calls of Nicole and the shake of the earth and the heavy breath from behind the only reminder there was more than just that small circle of trees her light illuminated ahead. Kept the darkness from becoming suffocating. That heavy breath grew labored, strained. The creature was growing tired of their game. It growled and snapped and barked out that strange call. But these sounds slowly grew distant. The space between them grew wider. Stubbornness and hunger forced it to continue, but feverish interest began to wane with its stamina. It would settle for anything. Now was their chance. “Throw the braid and let’s go!” Her direction turned, circling back to the beginning. Back to the light. 

It was pitch black. Nicole’s eyes darting in the dark desperate for any light. It was like running blindfolded and she wasn’t calm enough to use her other senses at best capacity. Not when they had a giant beast chasing them.  Blood pounded in her ears, knowing there was a solution. She could see in the dark, why wasn’t she doing it? Fueled by the adrenaline, she didn't have time for measured thinking, her temples burned demanding a switch. Amber eyes glowed in the dark forest, exposing the path in front of her. So much easier.  

Eilidh’s command reached her ears clearly, and Nicole didn't need to be told twice. She searched around, considering her options. She couldn’t imagine a braid traveling a long distance, instead she swung it upwards and prayed it would land on the top of the trees. The monster’s attention changed again, but she didn’t stay to see the results, as soon as the braid was released she turned, circling around the beast and heading back to where they came from. At least, the ground had stopped shaking. It was a good sign. She spared one last look behind her, just to confirm the beast was reaching for the top of the trees. Good. Maybe after the braid snack, the beast would settle for the corpses in the area, instead of following them back. She could only hope. 

With the threat gone, Nicole’s first thought was to switch back to her human vision. Eyes on the ground, she blinked fast and hoped for the best. The switch back was always a gamble. Sometimes she could get it down in seconds, other times required a lot more concentration. The fear she’d get stuck with those eyes was always present. That it would start with the eyes, and then the teeth, and then— fuck, now it wasn’t the time. She breathed out deeply, contracting the muscles her eye muscles. Only when it was pitch dark again, she slowed her pace, catching up with Eilidh on the other side. “Good plan...good plan” She breathed out, stopping herself in time before she did something stupid, like hug her. She really was relieved her colleague was in one piece. “Can’t complain about surprise cardio but—  enough for the night... I think. Can we... stick to the trails... from now on?”

Eilidh could hear footsteps approaching. But these did not shake the ground in their wake. These were fainter, friendlier, familiar. Her head turned, attention split between the trek onward and that steady advance. After a few moments, Nicole broke out of the darkness, into that circle of light. She smiled at the sight. “Good game!” She clapped an affectionate hand onto Nicole’s shoulder. Chuckle whistled out at her statement. “Sure thing.” As the excitement subsided, cravings twisted her stomach. And she noted the hints of exhaustion painted on Nicole’s movements, too. It was time for their departure. “Sounds like that Kera–” She blinked. Feet hesitated. “Kerashag.” Her hand now clapped against her face. While her conscious mind had been at work keeping her safe, her subconscious finally let that elusive memory slip out. Return to the surface. Sharing some enlightenment. It had been decades ago. It hadn’t even been her own tale. But she recalled a conversation with a zombie; one where she relayed her own incident with such a beast. A hair eater. A moth for death. It had harassed her just the same as the one Eilidh just faced. While the other woman was left with a bald head from the ordeal—she remembered how it glistened in the sunlight—Eilidh had managed to retain some of her hair.

“Fucking figures.” Eilidh mumbled under her breath. “Anyway. Sounds like they’re distracted. Let’s go before they want dessert.” Flashlight aimed at the ground, she scanned the surface for that change in texture. The light traveled across the grass, until the grass stopped, revealing dirt. Dirt that stretched onward into that darkness, until the darkness stopped too. Leading them back. She beckoned Nicole to follow as she hopped onto that trail, letting it return them to civilization.

It was reflex to smile back at Eilidh. The adrenaline was still coursing through her veins, she could bask in their success for a brief moment. It was nice, being helpful again. Even if the stakes were a lot higher than guiding someone through a trail. Nicole picked up on the hesitation, on the word that was uttered, but she kept her head down. She wasn’t going to ask. Not until they were back on the trail. She didn’t object as Eilidh voiced her exact thoughts. Better get the fuck away when their legs could still go.

The road back was understandably more quiet. Eilidh didn’t have time or energy for funny quips. And well, that was never Nicole’s thing. She did notice how her companion’s heart didn’t seem to be pounding like her own, though. Undetectable. It reminded her of her friend Griffin. She wished to be as cool under pressure as them. 

There were no more surprises for them on the way back, and soon enough they were back on the original path. Their vehicle had to be close. Nicole couldn’t wait to be back at the station. It was hard to erase the monster from her mind. She would’ve liked to shrug the experience off. Like she had in the past with other strange beasts. Just call them quirky White Crest things and roll with it. But she had to know, didn't she? She had to learn. Because the town was a dangerous place, and she couldn’t keep turning a blind eye. She didn’t want to get hurt again. She didn't want to lose more things. “So… kera what?” her voice broke the silence. She nudged back to the forest, where she first heard her utter that word. She decided to give the woman the option to pass on the question, giving a one shoulder shrug. “Sounded like you knew what the fuck that was, that’s all”.

The thrill of the chase waned, and in lieu of an ache—such a rare thing for Eilidh to feel—her legs grew heavy under her own weight. Hunger pricked at her stomach. The smell of that corpse like a phantom in her nose, calling her back with its intoxicating memory. But turning around would lead her all the way back to that and repeat the cycle all over again. Despite the logic, the temptation still bubbled inside her, and if Nicole weren’t near, she might’ve tried her luck. Who cares about being bald if it meant scoring an easy meal—perhaps meals considering the creature’s proclivities. But it was less fun utilizing such a method, and with that deciding thought, the urge went away. Her focus returned to the trail, to the station that waited for them at the end.

Eilidh chuckled into the crisp night air. “Kerashag. They eat–” Dead almost slithered from her lips, but she quickly bit into the word before it could manage. “–hair and nails. Don’t know much else ‘bout them. Beyond the nice example we just got.” Her head motioned to the darkness, to where the forest was ever vast, to where that creature still lurked. “Glad to be back on the force?” There was a genuine, albeit playful, curiosity in her question. But it also served as a distraction. 

The moonlight filtered through the trees with more intensity as they began approaching their starting point. It was a testament to how deep they ventured, that they still couldn’t see the lights from surrounding camping sites. Nicole glanced at her partner, noticing the exhaustion on her face with more clarity. Then, she noticed the mismatched length of her hair. For a blade cut it was pretty decent, she almost said out loud. “Kerashag” she repeated awkwardly, word foreign in her tongue. Her face wrinkled with disgust. So she wasn’t imagining the weird diet then. Why go for corpses then, and why was Eilidh’s hair more alluring? Should she be offended? “No Bigfoot... fucking knew it” she added, letting out a huff. She decided to ignore the rest of the questions forming in her head. She had a name, and that was enough for now. 

A laugh caught in her throat when Eilidh broke the silence. Her smile grew. The woman’s tone made her feel welcome. But as she processed the meaning behind the words, her expression began to falter. Nicole considered the doubts that filled her the moment the beast appeared. Her reluctance to investigate. The fear coursing through her at the thought of Eilidh getting hurt. She bit the inside of her cheek, stomach sinking with dread. It was probably too soon. Maybe she should’ve stayed doing office hours. That was it. That’s why she still felt shaky in the legs, right? It would probably take her some time to feel like herself again. “Yeah, yeah—” she cleared her throat, voicing her own conclusion. “Hoping for less action next time, though...still rusty” she spotted their vehicle at the distance, nodding her head towards it. They’d be back at the station soon, safe from what lurked in the woods. Safe from the questions she had to start asking herself.

[sad-sweet-cowboah]

A Hundred Stitches

Summary: Arthur comes home after hunting with some serious injuries. You try to be the dutiful wife and patch him up, the keyword is try.

Warnings: Blood mention, smut, Low Honor Arthur, cursing, cockwarming

Author’s Note: I typed this up on the fly cause I thought it was a cute and different idea.

“Good Lord, Arthur Morgan. What happened to you?”

Your eyes were fixated on the disheveled appearance of your husband standing before you. As an outlaw you’d grown accustomed to him arriving with wounds both large and small over the years. Now the two of you lived in a cabin tucked away in West Elizabeth, free from the chains that dragged the both of you down from being on the run. Running into danger hadn’t been much of an afterthought this past year.

Arthur however, didn’t seem to understand that. He strode into the cabin appearing as if he’d crawled out of a grave. His shirt was torn in multiple places and stained with dirt and splattered blood. His face was mottled with bruises and scrapes and his hair matted with blood as well. His hands – oh heavens above, his hands – were dyed crimson as if he’d stuck them in a vat of paint. The one detail that caught your eye was a large gash on his shoulder that shone fresh in the sunlight behind him.

“You look like you fought with –”

“A cougar,” he finished for you. “I won that fight.”

You caught his lips splitting into a grin. “Not before it took a chunk outta you,” you sighed and waved toward one of the kitchen chairs. “Strip and sit.”

Arthur followed your direction without a word, shrugging off his tattered clothing as he walked across the wooden floor. You hurried outside to fetch a fresh pail of water from the well. When you walked back in, your eyes caught him sitting patiently in the chair. He’d stripped down to his union suit, although the top half had been peeled off. Besides the gash on his shoulder, obvious claw marks were raked across his abdomen.

“Fucking hell, Arthur. How did you manage to escape without dying?” you exasperated.

He merely laughed at your exclamation. “I ain’t that easy to kill, sweetheart.”

You only rolled your eyes. Of course he’d find it amusing. You strode over to one of the cabinets to retrieve a clean rag, suture kit, and a roll of bandages. You weren’t a nurse or healer by any means, but with Arthur often coming to you with a medley of injuries over the years, you’d learned your way around a needle and dressing wounds.

You moved back over to him, eyeing the wounds with scrutiny. They weren’t as deep as you anticipated, that to which you were thankful for. It appeared that the only one that required stitching was the one on his shoulder. You grabbed the pail and placed it at your feet, dunking the rag into the water.

“You’re lucky I love you.” You grumbled, bending over and gingerly wiping the rag over the wounds on his stomach. Arthur flinched just the slightest as the fabric passed over the raw skin.

“Or what, you wouldn’t be as gentle?” he countered with a small smirk.

A small scoff escaped your lips. The white rag turned crimson, and you dunked it back into the bucket to rinse. “Or I wouldn’t yell at you for stupidly wrestling big cats.”

His chest rumbled with deep laughter, filling the space of the small cabin. “Weren’t intentional, darlin’. I was out huntin’. Turns out I weren’t the only one followin’ a buck.”

You hummed in response, bending over once again to wipe the rest of his wounds. You were very aware of his eyes snapping toward your blouse, or rather, down it. The tip of his tongue darted between his lips for a short second. Not that you minded, you were his wife after all.

Once the remainder of dirt and blood had been washed clean of his skin, he washed his hands and face while you grabbed the bandages first to take care of his stomach. You reached around his thick torso to begin unraveling – when his arms encompassed you and pulled you onto his lap. You hadn’t expected this and uttered a squeak of surprise. Eye to eye with him, he smiled at you.

“Make it easier for ya.” He said, reaching up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear.

It was a lie. You knew exactly what he was trying to do. The flash of hunger reflected in those blue eyes of his could not be hidden. You didn’t acknowledge it as you continued to wrap the bandages around him. You were very aware of his hand on your ass, squeezing your supple flesh through the fabric of your skirt. It didn’t take much longer for him to find the waistband. His palm snaked inside, wasting no time to seek his target. He pressed against your bundle of nerves through the thin shield of your chemise.

Your jaw clenched slightly, keeping your focus on bandaging. The linen was nice and even without too much overlap, just enough pressure to not constrict him –

You stopped abruptly when he pinched your clit. A small gasp escaped your throat. A small smile of satisfaction crossed his face. He wanted a reaction from you and achieved it. Your eyes met his briefly before you continued.

He slipped past your bloomers now. His thick fingers parted your lower lips to gain easier access, sliding a calloused pad along your nub. Your body was responding faster than your mind was. A small spark that bloomed deep within you was growing slowly.

Your concentration was slipping in his grasp. You bit your lip and finished the bandage, neatly tying the end despite how your hands trembled.

His free hand slinked to the back of your neck, pulling you in to meet his lips with yours. Sweet it was in the beginning, his lips became more fervent before his tongue invaded your mouth. You allowed him to, eliciting a small moan as his fingers toyed you. To call him an expert of your body was an understatement. He had every curve and swell memorized like a well-read map, always tracing his fingertips on your skin as if it were the very first time. He knew which spots were more sensitive than others, where exactly to tease to reduce you to a writhing mess.

The ease of his fingers entering you was a sign of your own arousal, and god damn did he make it more difficult for you to continue. You dragged yourself from the lust-filled corner of your mind and pulled from his lap.

“I’m not finished.” You say rather breathlessly.

“Neither am I, darlin’.” He responds, the darkness in his eyes prominent as he gazes at you with a hungry glare. You weren’t ignorant of the bulge underneath his union suit.

“You can wait.”

Moving the pail out of the way, you go to grab the suture kit that you’d placed on the table next to him. As you reached over to grab it, Arthur’s hands were on you again. You expected him to pull you back onto his lap, yet instead the weight of your skirt vanished, pooling at your feet. You gasped and straightened up, only to have him repeat the process with your bloomers. The sheer fabric immediately dropped from your waist, leaving your lower half completely bare.

You swiveled around to glare at him, and he met your indignant gaze with a smile that you fought every urge to smack off his face.

He greedily found your hips, pulling you to sit upon his thighs. His length had been released from its constraints, standing tall and waiting. You glanced at it, a burning need building within you. Damn this man for playing with you this way. You however did not indulge him, instead threading the suture through the needle and focusing on the deep gash.

Upon pinching the torn skin and poking the needle through, you felt him flinch around you. You pulled it taut and tugged the corner lip of the wound closed before creating a knot at the end. One down, many more to go. You were preparing the second when Arthur suddenly pulled your hips closer, the head of his cock prodding your entrance. You’d twitched involuntarily.

“Arthur.” You hissed in warning.

A mischievous smirk appeared on his lips. Keeping your eyes on his wound, you took a deep breath and kept your eyes focused on his shoulder. Threading a second through the skin, you were quicker to knot it closed than the first.

His hips bucked forward, slipping into you with ease. You elicited a yelp, having to dodge grabbing onto his wounded shoulder as pleasure racked through you. You drew in a ragged breath, reeling in the more coherent part of your mind. He kept you seated on his length with no intent to move...yet.

You pinched his skin and quickly drove the needle through. You kept your breath even, pushing aside the carnal desire to drop everything and ride him at the moment.

Third suture done. Now on to the next –

His mouth found your neck, nibbling and suckling at your pulse point. His heated breath tickled your sensitive skin, attempting to push you to the point of no return.

“I – need to – finish.” You choked out, your heart beginning to wildly race from his ministrations.

“Ain’t stoppin’ you.” He murmured against your neck.

“You’re distracting me,” you groaned. “Can’t you wait?”

And Arthur decidedly answered by thrusting up into you.

Your moan of ecstasy turned to that of frustration. As annoyed as you were with him at the moment, it certainly wouldn’t last long. He was turning you to jelly in his hands, molding you to his liking regardless of the situation. His hips moved at a steady rhythm, allowing the slightest of friction for both of you. He was aware of how his simple movement could nearly drive you wild.

The growing bubble in your core was becoming harder to ignore. You quickly stitched up the next suture and squeezed your eyes shut, willing not to succumb to him. With his teeth grazing your neck and his cock grazing along that delicate spot, it took nearly all of your willpower.

You held the needle to his skin, ready to poke through when he thrust up into you again. The needle slipped from your fingers and you fumbled with it, saving it before it could drop to the floor.

You gritted your teeth. “Arthur, I’m going to stab you if you don’t stop!” You growled, the feeble attempt to sound intimidating quickly drained from how shaky your voice was.

He simply laughed, sending vibrations along your skin. “Didn’t think you could be so violent, Mrs. Morgan.” he joked, moving his head to peer up at you.

“You know what I meant!”

His laughter hadn’t ceased. Though by some odd miracle, he was good for you during the remainder of the sutures. You kept still on his lap, soon almost forgetting how deep he was inside of you. He would twitch every once in a while in attempts to keep himself from growing soft. You knew that once you were done he would become relentless, and so you punished him by taking your time. Each and every stitch became perfectly aligned with your capable hands, each having triple knots before moving on to the next. He was growing impatient from how bright his eyes smoldered.

You’d come to the last suture, moving the absolute slowest you could. The beast beneath you was only contained by a thin tether that was ready to snap at any given moment. Your eyes met his, reading every unspoken word hidden within them. It nearly cast a shiver down your spine.

The final knot was completed. You barely had time to place the needle and thread down when his hands grabbed at your hips. He rose to his feet, lifting you up effortlessly within him while still keeping inside you. A quick movement and your back was pressed to the table. He grabbed at your legs, pushing them up by your head and driving deep within you.

You yelped out loud, tilting your head back as he fucked you mercilessly. Prior teasings and the pause in between did nothing to staunch your quickly growing climax. You whined to him, calling out his name with your ascent. His gravelly voice demanded it from you, stroking the innermost depths of your desire. His hand found your nub again, vainly stroking it in pursuit of your orgasm.

And gave it to him you did. Erupted from your core to burn through your veins, his name tangled in with a string of swears. He hadn’t let up with his hand, and you could not even try to wiggle away. Oversensitivity was a foreign language to him. His eyes locked to yours, a silent command to keep giving until he was satisfied.

You don’t know how that power even took hold of you. It however worked each and every time. Soon gone was the urge to escape his touch and building your second release. It was slower than the first, though more powerful. Undulating thrusts and dragging against your most sensitive spot rendered you to a writhing mess beneath him. That smirk of his…so unnecessarily sexy.

Why had you married such a specimen of a man to torture you in the most intimate of ways?

He drove you absolutely crazy, but damn if you didn’t enjoy every second of it.

“You’re close sweetheart, let me feel it.”

Your own voice seemed disembodied from the way you expressed your pleasure. The swell burst immediately, once again overtaking you as your inner walls clenched down him. You fought to catch your breath, your eyes never leaving his. You watched as his face contorted and he huffed a grunt, a sign he was close to his own release. He removed his hand to grip your leg again, using the added leverage to fuck you with abandon.

His hips broke rhythm, shuddering against yours. He gritted his teeth threw his head back, swearing out loud as he pressed himself deep, unleashing his seed into you.

Both of you were still for a moment, lost in your own attempts to catch your breath. After a long moment his hands slid off your legs and he stepped back. The sound of his body leaving yours sent a flush licking at your cheeks. His now softened dick was soaked with your combined fluids, dripping slowly to the floor. Even Arthur seemed surprised.

“Maybe I should wrestle cougars more often.” He grinned at you.

“Do that and I will leave you.” You grumbled. You stretched your legs out and found purchase on the floor, forcing yourself to stand up despite the tremble that overtook your lower half.

He chuckled, lifting his arms to draw you into an embrace. You were careful not to lean your weight on his fresh wounds. He placed a soft kiss on your forehead. “Only jokin’, Y/N. But I do like the idea of teasin’ ya more while ya patch me up.”

You picked your head up to give him a hot glower, smacking his good shoulder. “Arthur, I swear to God.”

[yoursinfulurges]

Toxin and Venom

Slight Dark!Peter Parker x Dark!Reader

Description:

In which a seemingly loving relationship appears greater than it is...

There was something rather terrible about this young man's naive exterior. Though nobody could pinpoint where exactly the dreadfulness laid. His eyes shined a little too brightly, and his words were coated in thick sugar, enough to appear disingenuous to the skillfully trained ears. But there hidden behind is smile concealed the sinister morals of a true manipulator.

Oh' but she was no better herself, twisting words to favour her narrative. Playing as if she was nothing more than a meek little prey.

Warnings: pure angst with an underlining layer of toxicity.

Disclaimer: This is a REWRITE of one of my old stories dated back to a year ago, so if it sounds familiar that is why. This story was originally written for Jung Jaehyun from NCT but seeing as though I've fallen out of love with kpop at the moment, I wanted to repurpose it for my new followers that I've harbored since The Venom Within, as I'm very proud of the way it was written and concluded that I wanted to share with you all. I did improve and change quite a lot so you won't be reading the exact same story and I decided to add a twist to it.

Note: This is more so a college au so the fact that Peter is Spiderman is insignificant...

Word Count: 4.k

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Your boyfriend, Peter, had always been the most kind and caring person you knew. Ever since you met him, and even after months of dating, he still acted like the bashful, kind Disney prince you took him for. Only treating you with nothing but respect and admiration; you often wondered if this boy was even capable of making an insult, or had a bad bone in his body. Fore he acts way too nice and sweet for his own good. Controlling at times but it was with all good intentions...

Originally, you thought the kind gestures and lovely sweet talking was his way of subtly flirting, but after years of dating him, you came to the realization that it was just simply him. Peter didn't need to pretend to be kind and sweet like other guys; given that it was like second nature for him. You loved the boy to death. He showered you with so much love, spoiled you with affection. Treated you like his queen; His shining jewel. Out of the two years that you'd been together, not once has he wronged you.

    That is, up until this exact moment...

You stand there in the middle of the kitchen, tears streaming down your cheeks. At this point you had stopped listening to what he was saying. In fear that if you continued to listen to his harsh words, more of your love would begin to fleet away, and you couldn't afford to lose any more. Despite of all your excessive yelling, you loved Peter. And he meant so much to you. But seeing him in this state, angry and hostile, attacking you viciously with his words, you began to question your future with him.

You couldn't quite fathom what brought on this newfound aggression in your relationship. Though, you had a slight seeking suspicion that it was from all the post-exam stress you both had to endure. Weeks upon weeks of studying and sleepless nights finally took its toll on the both of you. Thus bringing you to this exact moment in time. The once loving home corrupted by the harsh spoken words that fell from both of your lips. Anger and aggression filling the room, space welcoming the negativity with open arms. You had both tainted it...

That was not the boy you fell in love with, but instead somebody meaner, a-kind to venom...

Then again, you weren't a saint yourself either, words you wouldn't have ever thought of saying spilled out of your mouth like toxin. You needed to do something fast to mend your relationship back together...

The mere thought of breaking up with the man hurts you so dearly. You just wanted your loving boyfriend back from what ever abyss he dissapeared off to. Typically your fights never lasted this long, but this one proved to be quite challenging. You just wanted him to stop yelling. But in fear of the unthinkable outcome of your protest, you kept shut and held onto the remaining pieces of your heart. You knew for a fact that Peter would never dear to lay a hand on you, so you tried very desperately to push those thoughts aside. However, his following statements made both tasks very difficult. It was as if he was challenging your composure. Like he wanted the flood gates broken.

Like he wanted you to cave in to the malicious voice whispering in your ear...

His words could've very well be from all the stress, ..or pent up insults and remarks that he'd been silently keeping in. You had no way of telling. You prayed and hoped that it was the first one rather than the assuming latter. Because maybe then, you would consider forgiving him. Even though the words punctured you like bullets, penetrating your inner layers and hurting you in more ways than one. This was not your Peter... You questioned the morals behind his words, were they intended to hurt you, or was it just in the heat of the moment. Regardless, you knew that his words would be something that lingered on forever in your head.

"I don't even know why I stayed this long with you, honestly! What do I even see in you! Stop being so unreasonable! You're easily replaceable, so i don't see why you're acting so high and mighty. News flash y/n, i could do a lot better!"

         And there it was...

His current state and demeanor rivalled that of which the one you used to know. The soft spoken, kind, sweet, shy Peter. The one that still plays with legos despite being nineteen years old. You'd give anything to have him back...

You always knew that Peter could do better, but hearing this from him was a lot different than you saying it to yourself in your head. Before you had started dating you knew he had a chance with Michelle. She was a very pretty girl that went to your university, she was also Peter's chem partner... Michelle was nice, smart, and talented. You were very aware of the little 'thing' they had going on. So to your surprise, when you heard rumors of a certain Peter Parker, looking to ask you out, you almost didn't believe. Hell, you laughed straight into Brad's face and told him he was delusional. If only a hesitant, blush faced Peter wasn't stood right behind you to prove you wrong.

Ever since that day, you questioned Peter's choice. Why did he choose you, when he could've had a chance with Michelle? Someone he was more compatible with... You figured that he saw something special in you that nobody else did. Though, his previous statement proves you wrong and tells you that he doesn't even know why he gave you a chance. You're at a drift, not knowing where this relationship is headed, or where to stand. Knowing that you were replaceable to Peter weakens you. Were you really that insignificant to him? Were you a chore to be around? If so then why did he stay for two years? All these questions ran through your mind as you're frozen in a state of shock. How do you follow such a thing?

You stand silently, wails threatening to break free from your lips, as you shake. Instantly covering your mouth with your palm. You watch as he screamed at you more, words blocked out by the ringing in your ears. Truthfully, you were glad you couldn't hear his words, not knowing how to reciprocate to any more of his personal attacks.

The familiar feeling of despair began to conjure in the pit of your stomach. The tightness in your chest began to focus on your beating heart, constricting you like a boa preying on its meal. Everything around you became a hazy blur as the non stop ringing became more prominent. The cause being your angry boyfriend and his heart-wrenching words. Jolts of anxiety began to climb up from your figure tips, like a thousand spiders crawling on your skin. A feeling you know all too well crept up from behind you. You were beginning to feel frantic and scared, as your breathing became unstable.

You were becoming erratic, desperate to end the fight and be in his arms again.

"What!? Huh, not gonna clap back with some snarky remark. Admit it, you know im right!"

Peter's face was a striking shade of scarlet while he paced back and forth, hands finding themselves tangled in his hair as he mumbled inaudible words. His hair, you remember running your hands through his curly, brown locks this morning when you woke up. Oh, how happy and blissful you both were twelve hours prior to this moment. You both were so content and hopeful with the prospect of your relationship. Being able to finally spend time with each other after a stressful week. Originally, you had planned a date night with Peter. But things began to make a turn for the worse when he began to insult every little thing you did. Now here you were, an hour and forty-five minutes late for your reservations.

A taste for bitterness began to fill your mouth, as your insides churned. Waves of sadness and despair hit you like a tsunami. You suddenly couldn't stand the thought of staying in the same room as Peter. Let alone sleeping in one. Fore his words had impacted you like an arrow through the heart. You felt sick, disgusted, vulnerable, and above all else, hurt.

"God, you're such a fucking bitch sometimes!" Peter spat, but soon after stopped, noticing your sudden change in demeanor. Your once, fuming and aggressive facade was replaced with a much more subdued, fragile, hurt exterior, mirroring how you felt inside. You had given up. The bandage that held your heart together snapped.

You looked up at him, hurt written all over your face. Instantly, Peter rushed your way. He wanted to wrap his arms around you, apologize for calling you a bitch. But stopped when you held your hand out and shook your head, a sob erupting from your mouth. Suddenly, all the hurtful things Peter said rang through his own head.

Oh...

Shit!

"Baby, I-" He started, not knowing how to follow. His mouth suddenly became dry, letting out a sigh of regret. Voice coming out weak and pained. His chest tightening at the sight of what he has done to you. No no no no no no.... Peter knew you weren't the type to forgive and forget. Even if you both manage to somehow recover from this, he knew that his words would always be in your head. You would constantly doubt yourself and his transparency, thinking if it was all an act.

Regret began to eat away at him once again when he noticed your uneven breathing. Another punch in his gut when he took note of your shaking. Peter's eyes quickly darted to yours, his heart breaking when he saw the amount of fear in them. He was uncertain if you were scared of him or your emotions. He wanted it to be the second one. Peter never wanted you to see him in that light. Yet here you were, having an anxiety attack because of him...

He knew that feeling all too well, having suffered from anxiety of his own, but the fact that he was the one to force you into that state shattered him..

"Don't call me that...." You spat coldy, backing away slowly into your shared bedroom. Making sure he didn't follow and locking the door. Once in the cozy room, you sob like la llorona conveying grief. You couldn't bear to see all the happy pictures of you two, when he said so himself, you're nothing special to him. Without thinking, you began to rip off every Polaroid, framed pictures, and drawings from the walls. Not caring of ripping them. You threw them all on the floor. Your vision becoming clouded by tears as you sob. Ruining the white fabric of your oversized sweater with your makeup contaminated tears.

Your body halts, the last remaining picture was of the both of you on your first date. You always considered that day as the happiest moment of your life. But now knowing that you're just a pit stop in Peter's life, the memory manifests into something much darker than obsidian.

You inhale as you looked at the picture one more time. It was you kissing Peter on the cheek. He donned a beautiful cheshire smile, his freckles displaying proudly under the sunlight. He wore a red, hooded sweatshirt with his hero, Iron man's logo depicted on the top right corner. You always love it when he wore sweaters, especially that one. You remembered every emotion you felt as the picture was being taken. Even if you didn't, your expression held it all. You radiated happiness as the butterflies in your stomach became restless. You were so happy...

You sob lightly, your thumb caressing his face as you looked fondly at the picture. Suddenly, words that fell from his mouth earlier replayed in your head. He had purposely attacked your deepest insecurities. Jabbed and taunted you. The Peter you knew would never result to something so cruel and petty. Without putting much thought into it, you began to take the picture out of its frame.

Your ears perking up when you hear the familiar sound of the lock being picked. The jiggling of the doorknob was something you grew accustomed to. Having locked yourselves out of the bedroom on more than one occasion....

Taking one final breath, you rip the picture in two and retreated into the master bathroom. Once the door was slammed shut and locked, all hell broke loose. As if it couldn't have gotten worse alright. Your wails grew louder and more repetitive that you were being to sound like a banshee, mourning for her decaying heart. Eventually, you found yourself curled up in the bathtub, suppressing your cries into your knees as you lowered your head.

Peter finally succeeds in picking the lock, after what seemed like hours, and once he creaked opened the door of your shared bedroom, his heart broke in two. Parts of him began to deteriorate, he wished he had never said those hurtful things. He felt numb and out of touch with reality, sensing his anxiety looming over his shoulder. Peter knew that one of your biggest insecurities was never meaning much to somebody. And that weren't fond of feeling worthless and neglected. He knew your background and upbringing well enough to know just how much you disliked being treated as such.

All he wanted to do was hold you in his arms and kiss your tears away. A pool of sadness brimmed his eyes as he evaluates the damage. From one corner of the room to the other, pictures were left scattered and discarded. The framed drawings of him that you illustrated, sat on the floor of your bedroom, frame cracked and shattered. The Polaroids he held ever so dearly to his heart, littered the bed and floor. He broke down in tears when he sees the torn picture of you both.

How could you vandalize such a treasured memory. But then again, how could he hurt the most precious thing in his life. Seeing the picture ripped apart like this, he knew that somehow he affected your perspective on this whole relationship. His previous words had tainted such beloved memories, and twisted them to seem like nothing more than a one-sided love. He made you question whether he truly loved you or not. Suddenly the realization kicked in, and it kicked in hard. A tsunami of guilt and regret pierced through is heart. His insides churned and it suddenly became very hard to breathe. He suddenly became really aware of how dire this situation was. His following actions may break your relationship if he didn't act wisely.

Peter bends down to hold your piece of the puzzle, a river flow of heart ache cascading down his cheeks, wetting the captured image of you. Your sobs, which had begun to sound like cries of help, due to lack of air, rang threw Peter's ears. Suddenly he grew extremely concerned and rushed to the door, dropping your image.

Immediately, you stop when you heard soft knocks coming from the other end of the door, which was soon followed by cries and sniffling sounds.

"Baby, open the door!" You don't comply with his words and stayed seated in your place, hugging your knees tighter.

"W-what are you gonna do if i don't? Pick the lock and violate my privacy! Just go away P-peter! W-why don't you go find another girl to replace me, because apparently, i-i mean nothing to you!" Screaming at the inanimate door, or more so the person behind it, as you let out a cut short wail. You hated yourself for how weak and broken you sounded. Wishing, you could drown out his stupid words that had already engraved itself deep in your brain.

"Y-you said s-so yourself! I'm easily replaceable! I-if i had known that this relationship was just gonna be one sided then i would've never wasted my time!" Apparent in your tone and words how truly distraught you were, Peter cried harder, cold sweats engulfing his body. He winced at the thought of how broken you were. It only lead him to wonder, what exactly happened and what brought on this fight. Sounding more so a statement rather than a question in his head.

He parted his lips softly, a small whimpering sigh rolling off his tongue.

"Please y/n, just open the door. I-i just want to see you. Please... I-I need to know that you're okay...." his words laced with mixed emotions, such as sorrow and remorse. Despite his current emotional state, Peter's stature looked anything else but composed. God, he was freaking out..

Incoherently mumbling a soft 'please' as he laid his forehead onto the wood door. His hand resting above his head, fist balled tightly, as if ready to start pounding. He was desperate, eyes screwing shut tightly causing a flow of tears to glide down his cheeks. Peter's jaw clenched tightly in frustration, as he beat himself over and over again for saying such things.

After much hesitance, you stood up and made your way to the door. Peter hears the small shuffle and quickly straightens himself out. After seconds of hovering your hand over the knob, you twist it open, instantly unlocking itself and setting free all the pent up emotions. You crack open the door, almost immediately, Peter rushes in and hugs you.

You don't return the hug, silently stiffening in his arms. At that moment, the last few bits of composure you had built back up snaps loose. You become a crying mess in Peter's arms. Feelings of unmeasurable sadness cascade down your cheeks, onto his black long sleeve shirt. You try and push him away, but fail due to his strength. His muscular arms constricting you as if you would fade away.

"Listen to me please." He says softly, tears lightly streaming down his cheeks, though, not to the caliber of yours.

You sniffle lightly, thrashing in his arms. Though, it was no use, his hold was so secure that no amount of resistance would break you free. So, you could do nothing else but endure what he has to say.

"I'm sorry-

Sorry doesn't fix anything Peter, it's just a word!" The teary-eyed male hissed at your words. The amount of hurt and venom your tone held was enough to make his jaw clench and his hold to tighten.

"I know it doesn't, but it's a start. L-look, i didn't mean to say that. I don't know what came over me, or what caused me to say those things. But what i do know is that they were a hundred percent untrue. And i want you to know that..." He pauses briefly to wipe away your tears with his thumb. Dipping his head into the crook of your neck. He took in your floral scent, hoping it would help him regain composure. You feel a tug on your heart at how utterly hurt and small he sounded.

"I love you with all my heart, and that you are the most unique girl I've ever met... If anything i don't know how i even managed to get a girlfriend as beautiful and amazing as you..... Wanna know why I'm with you?" You nod lightly into his chest. His hold readjust itself as he lays his head above yours. Almost content with your slight gesture, but he needed to be sure you were happy.

"It's because you accept me for who i am. You don't pressure me to be perfect all the time, you welcome my flaws with open arms; don't expect anything from me and shower me with so much love everyday... I want you to know that i could never replace you, not that i would ever want to. How did i ever get so lucky... Please y/n, you are one of the most important people in my life.... I-i can't loose you too..." Peter couldn't fathom a future with out you in it. He grew frantic, thinking that this day could be the last together. And that there would be a slight chance that you didn't want to forgive him again. He couldn't let that happen...

"Please say something...." He sighed whilst tears brimmed his eyes, taking your tightening hold on his shirt to keep moving forward.

"Do you remember when we first started dating, that night i texted you that i was frustrated and my anxiety was acting up... And you came over in a heart beat, even though you lived fifteen minutes away... Y-you told me to let it all out, and i cried in your arms for an hour, complaining about everything. I felt so ashamed for crying in front of you, but you told me that i was so brave for accepting my feelings... I know what i said must've hurt you a lot, but I'll do better... I'm sorry for triggering you like that." Peter's tone was barely above whisper, and if he hadn't have said it directly above your ear, you would've missed it. There he was... your Peter....

You thought back to the said memory and smiled fondly, that was the night you both realized that you wanted a more serious title on your relationship. Finally labeling each other as boyfriend and girlfriend. You thought back to all the happy memories you both shared and confirmed that a silly little fight wouldn't get the best of you. Yes, his words might've hurt, but his actions now out ways all of his petty insults. You give into your flourishing heart and forgive him.

Backing away from his chest lightly, you look up at him, gasping slightly at his blood shot eyes. You hesitatly reach up to cup both of his cheeks. Wiping away the remaining tears that streamed down his face. He smiled lightly and leaned into your touch, taking one of your hands in his and place a soft, delicate kiss on it.

"We'll be okay...." You smiled at his comforting words before planting a passionate, loving kiss on his lips. Peter smiled lightly before taking your wrist on his hold and guiding them to wrap around his neck. He deepens the kiss and pulls you closer by your waist.

It was then that he realized that he wanted you to be the only women in his life. And that he wanted nobody else. Suddenly feeling an overly compelling urge in his heart to make up for his actions overcomes him. He was determined to trap you in his web of love again. He couldn't loose you too...

You smile in content, 

          portraying the victim always worked...

'Indeed, we'll be just fine.....'

Perhaps they were both awful people, fooling each other with the reality they both created. But it was done with the intent of love, sick twisted love... He was possessive and she was insecure. And together they were toxin and venom... God forbid anything that tries to get in between them...

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End Note:

For those that don't understand, take notice in Peter's words and how drastically different they are from when he was mad to when he was apologizing. Sweet at first glance but if you really dig deep you'd notice how sugar coated everything seemed, like he's saying what you want to hear. And as for the Reader, I purposely left out how much she contributed to the fight in the beginning to make it seem as though she was the victim, when in reality she was also at fault. The anxiety aspect of this story was very much 'real' since I described what it felt like for me and I wanted her to suffer from anxiety yet have something be a little off. Now, I'm not claiming that the bedroom part was a whole scene to feed her victim persona, but that's up to how you want to view it. This story is subjective and can be taken however way you want to.

[poutyhannie]

Hi!! This is my very first smut so please be nice ><.  Feedback is greatly appreciated!

warnings: smut, slight teasing, fem!reader, blowjob

word count: +2k

part 1, part 2

Your thighs ached as you watched Chan from the corner of your eye.  The both of you were lying under blankets on your shared bed.  Chan’s arm slung around your shoulders, tugging you close with your computer playing the movie you guys were supposed to be watching.  Pouting slightly, he was completely engrossed in the screen.  But damnit the clenching in your lower stomach distracted you.  

Chan distracted you.

Maybe it was the way his dark eyes light up when an especially well choreographed fight scene appeared or how his eyebrows furrow at an intense scripted conversation or when he catches his pretty lips in his teeth that makes you rub your thighs together.  

Before you can react, Chan’s eyes have snapped down to you.  His lips twist in an endearing smile, his face illuminated with the computer’s heavenly glow.  “Whatcha thinking ‘bout, babygirl?”

Even though it was just a glance, just a pet name, the ache in your stomach triples.  You avert your eyes, knowing how perceptive Chan can be.  However, your lowering gaze causes you to be face first with Chan’s arms.  Almost in a trance, you reach out and gently follow his maze of veins from his fingertips up to his arms.  Little goosebumps rise on his arms as your fingertips wander.

You look up at Chan.

He still wears his amused, half smile that makes your heart begin to ache as well.  “Hm, Y/n?  What’s up?  You were begging me to watch this movie with you but you’re only looking at me.”  He giggles, pulling you towards himself so that he’s under you and you’re staring down at his pretty face.  His eyes trail down your face slowly, down your jaw, your neck and you just wish it were his breath, his lips, his teeth.  Chan reaches out to gently caress your face and his smile deepens, causing you to blush and bury your face in his chest.  His laugh reverberates through you and he firmly grabs your chin, tugging it up so that you can’t help but stare into his eyes.

Not that you’d want to look at anything else right now.

Despite his previous laughter, his expression is hard and dark; you subconsciously rub your thighs together again.  

Chan raises his eyebrows, feeling everything.  “Oh, that’s why you’re so distracted?” He teases, a cocky smirk taking over his features, “Is my babygirl needy?”

Your gaze drops, despite Chan’s hold on your chin and he chuckles, stretching up to lay a soft kiss on your lips.  Fire erupts in your chest and explodes up your neck and down to your stomach.  How the hell can he affect you this badly?  There was nothing particularly enticing about him today but you just couldn’t help yourself from falling deeper into him.  

Chan shifts again, sitting up so that you’re in his lap and the blankets are a tangled mess around both of your legs.  Suddenly bashful, your fingers find adequate distraction in playing with Chan’s black shirt, tracing imaginary lines around his chest.  Chan maneuvers his head so that he’s looking up at you again.  

His dark voice goes straight to soak your panties.  “I ask you a question, babygirl.”

You swallow, taking every ounce of strength and will power in you to hold his gaze.  

“Yes, Chan.  Your babygirl is really fucking needy.”

Chan leans back onto his arms, his cocky smile reappearing as he quickly closes the laptop and sets it on the floor.  “What do you want me to do about it, Y/n?  Do you want me to lick your pussy?  Stick my fingers into you and curl them around till you cum all over them?”

You let out a throaty groan at his vulgar words, the burn in your core intensifying.  Although you both haven’t gone all the way to make love with one another, your walls clench at the memory of Chan’s fingers setting an inhuman pace in and out of your cunt.  Being that Chan is your first boyfriend ever, you wanted to take it very very slow with him.  Chan is a sweetheart and never does anything unless you give him verbal affirmation.  Now though, you’re glad Chan has abandoned his previous delicate handling with you.  Though you would love to bury Chan’s mouth deeper between your aching legs, you know what you want.  

Your eyes flick back up to Chan and you give him your puppy eyes he loves.  “May I please suck your dick?”

Chan groans and wraps his arms around you, kissing you strong and hard.  His hands tangle your hair and his tongue strokes yours.  Its dreadfully hot and messy, there’s drool pooling at the corners of your mouth.  Your mind goes blank as your hands travel down to toy at the hem of Chan’s shirt.  Gingerly, your fingertips trace over Chan’s abs and his v line, up to his nipples and collarbones.  He groans into the kiss, pulling back to flatten and lick his tongue up your neck to your ear, nibbling at the lobe.  His shirt pools at your wrists as your hands go higher and higher until Chan pulls back and you rid him of his shirt.  “You sure you don’t want me to go down on you first?”  Chan’s eyes are earnest and caring, “I can kinda feel how wet you are already.”

Blushing you shake your head vigorously, as you’re made aware of your barely covered, drenched, and aching pussy pressed against Chan’s hardening bulge.  You pout, widening your eyes in innocence that you both know you abandoned long ago.  “I’m sure of it, Channie.  Please,” you whine, fumbling with the elastic of his sweatpants, “I want you in my mouth please.”

His eyelids droop in lust, "Of course, babygirl.  Anything for my baby.”

Swiftly, you take your shirt off, shivering as your bare nipples are exposed to the air and tug Chan closer.  Immediately, his rough hands are cupping your breasts, massaging and flicking and toying with them as you trail you teeth up his sensitive neck.  Feeling him growing harder under you, you smirk into his neck and begin grinding down on him, releasing some pressure in your stomach.  He grunts softly, biting his lips to keep embarrassing sounds from escaping his mouth.  

You cup his face, grinding down harder, whining “C’mon Chan, you know I hate it when you’re quiet.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, throwing his head back as a beautiful moan erupts from his throat.  Smiling to yourself, you push him down onto the bed and tug his soft grey sweatpants off.  In the pale moonlight, you can see the stain of precum on Chan’s light blue boxer briefs where his painfully erect bulge strains against the tight fabric.   “You’re so beautiful.”  You whisper, but your palm presses down harshly on his bulge.  He hisses sharply, his hands gripping the sheets, causing his veins pop out more.  Teasing, you begin softly stroking his clothed length, smirking at his pitiful whimpers.

Chan coughs a groan out to mask his embarrassing sounds and growls, “Stop fucking teasing, Y/n.”

You smile at his attempt to gain control but comply regardless, swiftly pulling his boxer briefs down.  Chan’s length slaps his stomach and Chan fully moans then bites his forearm.  “You’re such a fucking brat, Y/n.  Keep that up and I won’t be gentle with you anymore.”

The threat goes straight to your pussy and you guiltily lean down to press a kiss to his glistening red tip, your fingertips ghosting up and down his soft pale inner thighs, as your mouth begins to salivate.  They trail up to fondle his balls and you take one into your mouth, sucking lightly.  You hear Chan exhale deeply and resume his clutch on the sheets.  You take the other side into your mouth and begin stroking up his length very very softly.  Drawing back, a thread of saliva connecting his balls to your swollen lips, you blow on his dick, your head gradually moving downward until you envelop his length in your mouth, flattening and curling your tongue around him.  Chan moans loudly, cursing, which spurs you on to bob your head, hollowing your cheeks, breathing through your nose.  His wiry hands find their way to the back of your head and in tandem, he begins thrusting up into your mouth.  You let out a choked cough, your eyes burning as resolve courses through you.  You match his pace, sucking, bobbing, and swirling around him.  

Breathlessly, Chan groans, “Does my babygirl like choking around my cock?  You’re making me feel so good, baby.”

Chan’s praise makes you ignore your jaw which is beginning to ache.  He removes his hands from your hair and hoists his upper body up to get a better view of your lips moving up and down his length.  

“Holy shit, Y/n you’re so fucking beautiful.  Taking me so well like that.  You really didn’t want to watch that movie, huh?  You were just needy for my dick and wanted an excuse, isn’t that right, babygirl?”

You let out an involuntary groan around him and he hisses softly.  You pull back, replacing your mouth with your hand and begin pumping, your thumb swiping over his tip.  He gasps, rolling his head back onto his shoulders and you press your thumb against the underpart where his tip meets the rest of his length.  Chan shudders and you take a good look at him to store away for when he’s gone.  His shoulders are heaving and his eyes are glossed over in lust, love, or both.  His abs clench every time you touch a sensitive area and his glorious thighs are shaking.  An overwhelming sense of love and admiration for Chan crashes over you and you take him back, suddenly, into your mouth.  

“Look up at me, baby.”  He commands, his hand reaching down to caress your cheek.  You give him doe eyes and hollow your cheeks.  Chan groans deeply, his hazy eyes piercing you as his finger boops your nose.  You clumsily smile around his dick and he whispers, “For sucking my dick so well, you’re really too cute, Y/n.  You’re such a good girl and all for me, yeah?”

His praise sets a fire in your heart and heat and you bob your head faster, hands pumping at the base in tempo with your mouth.  Chan runs his fingers through your hair, pulling it out of your face, whispering, “”Make me cum, baby, I’m fucking close.”  

You fondle his balls, flick your tongue, and feel ropes of cum flood your mouth as Chan lets out a choked, “F-fuck.”

Slowing down, you move your hands to caress his thighs, riding out Chan’s high. Only once Chan lets out a heaving groan and collapses back onto the bed do you slowly pull off Chan’s dick with a playful pop.  You kneel, looking down at his panting body.  He’s buried his head in his elbow and you crawl down to move his arm so you can see his face.  Gazing down at Chan, a bubble of affection swells in your chest and you smile at his fucked out expression.  You kiss him slowly, allowing him to taste himself on your tongue.  He smiles into the kiss and you pull back, “Did I do well?”  You ask, eyes wide and smiling.

Chan’s face bursts into a wide, endearing smile and he sleepily tugs you down so that both of your bare chests are pressed together.  He gently kisses the top of your head, your forehead, nose, cheeks, and finally, plants a soft kiss on your lips.  “Yeah, babygirl.  You’re so good for me.  Though,” he lifts his eyebrows, “I’m gonna get you back for all your fucking teasing, you brat.”

You smile guiltily up at him, “I’ll keep you to that promise, Channie.”

He smiles, then nuzzles his nose in your cheek.  “You want me to eat you out now, baby?  Return the favor?”

Shaking your head, you kiss his plush, swollen lips.  “Another time,” you look up at him with shining, puppy eyes, “and then can I ride your face, please?”