#dark!harald

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Common Knowledge 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, power imbalance, bullying, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Geralt of Rivia, Harald Halfdansson, tall & plus-size reader

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You unfurl the strip of legal pad, marked with Professor Halfdansson's messy and pointed writing. The usual scribble that has you squinting at your returned papers. He must be the only instructor in the college that still handmarks his assignment.

Like much of his style, his slanted cursive is chaotic. Often, his lectures or spiraling tangents about his trips to Norway or some mythos unrelated to the topic at hand. He is a well of knowledge, but one which is often overflowing and bottomless.

The subject is far from your first choice. You prefer history with a human subject. Your intrigue is those events which truly occurred, people who once walked the same earth as yourself. Mythos and belief is a human creation but it hardly captures your imagination.

Along your search for title jotted onto the scrap, you find several other books to sate your personal preferences. A book on the Beothuk and their demise and another illustrated index of Renaissance art. Finally, you find the rear corner of the store, the mythology shelves nestled behind Spirituality and New Age.

You hover your finger before the rows and lean in, squinting through your lenses as you search out the rather Nordic-sounding name. You sense a shadow at the end of the aisle but do not look over. You'll just be on your way once you-- there it is.

You pinch the spine of the deep blue tome and slide it out. The cover is stamped with gold runes and lettering, a viking helm the central image. You double-check that it matches the professor's scrawl, however you can never be sure as his Fs look like Ss.

You set it flat on your armful of book, balancing the weight with the rest as you crumple the scrap and tuck it into your pocket. It's a bit more than you want to spend but it will be useful in maintaining your average through Halfdansson's course.

The shadow comes closer and you shift out of the way for the approaching customer. You sidle away as they huff, a breath that fans around them. He leans into the shelf and you sense his head shift and his gaze follow your slow retreat.

"Ah, you are a fan of vikings?" He asks, stopping you in your tracks. "You must've watched the show, hm? Cute series but not very accurate, you know?"

You blink, taken aback but his tone and his assumption. It isn't the first time you've met the attitude in your chosen discipline. When it comes to military history or the lives of vaunted men, there is often an intonation towards female scholars. You have been dismissed more than once.

"Never seen it," you lie, "you seem the type though."

You note his snow white hair, a peculiar shade, drawn back into a half pony, and his blindingly pale eyes. He wears a tunic better housed in the closet of a LARPing club and looms with an air of indignation. He puts a thick hand on the shelf and leans, no doubt used to towering over others.

"Funny, that is the very book I came for," he intones.

"Oh, what a coincidence."

HIs jaw ticks and he snorts, "seems you've found quite the lot--"

"I have. A whole trove."

You go to turn away and hear his sole clomp down behind you, "surely you can grab another encyclopedia. I really need that one."

"Uh, no, this is what I need."

He follows you down the aisle as you keep a quick step, uneasy at how he trails you so fervently.

"Maybe you should grab another one."

"I have all the others. I've been waiting months for that to come into stock," he insists.

"Well, you can find a kiosk and order one in--"

"On a three month backorder," he interjects and grabs your arm. "I'll pay you--"

You spin back to face him and hit his chest with your books, "don't touch me."

"Well, just..." he retracts his hand, "hold up. I'm trying to talk to you. To barter--"

"I'm sorry, but I need this book for class," you hug the books and back up, overly aware of the tingliness from where he grabbed you. You don't like being touched. At all. You can feel your heart pumping.

"Does the school not have a library, little girl?"

Your mouth falls open. Little girl? This guy just can't help himself. You haven't been rude, maybe matter-of-fact, but he's been downright mean.

"Not for sale," you push your shoulders up and back away.

You twist on your heel and speed away. You weave between the shelves and discount tables and join the winding queue at the counter. You don't look back and sway in your boots, waiting your turn.

"I could give you several recommendations for an alternate text," the man appears at your side, crowding you inside the black cords that rein in the queuing customers.

You ignore him and turn your head away. You wish he'd just take a hint. If you heard a single please or any sort of respect, you might consider it. He's only been a jackass and judging at first glance, he's too old for that.

"You don't need it–"

You move with the line and he growls, shifting with you.

"Look, girl–"

You snap your head back and give him a glare. He sucks in one cheek and exhales heavily, "miss, I am asking you nicely–"

The associate at the counter calls for next and you take your cue. You quickly cross the space and put your haul onto the wooden ledge. You hear the pushy stranger snarl something under his breath. You refuse to look back as you hand over your membership card.

Men like that are the very reason you despise the general public. Hard to fathom how you can be so intrigued by the human condition when you can hardly bear to be around other people.

[huariqueje]

Street scene with conversing couple in the dark - Harald Engmann , 1930.

Danish, 1903-1968

Oil on canvas,  40 x 31 cm. 15.7 x 12.2 in.

[majestativa]

Sister Darkness, you rest close […] behind my heart.

— HARALD SVERDRUP ⚜️ 20 Contemporary Norwegian Poets: A Bilingual Anthology, transl. by Louis A. Muinzer, (1984)

[author-morgan]

i see your requests are open!! can you do something sweet with Harald? (and Halfdan if you’re comfortable with polyamory!)

Of courseeeee. Here is some Harald fluff (with a pinch of bittersweetness and angst). I was going to have this be polyamorous (bc those two come as a pair more often than naught in my fics lbr lol), but once I got started it just turned into something more Harald-centric. Hope you don't mind! (I went a little overboard for him again) Harald Finehair x fem!Reader

HALFDAN THE BLACK is the first to enter Tamdrup’s great hall upon returning from a successful raiding season. The doors swing open wide, and those gathered for the tribunal part, making way for the victorious. Rising from the seat of power, you go to him with open arms, smiling. “I see you brought my husband back,” you muse, watching Harald enter the hall at last, surrounded by a score of rowdy warriors and overjoyed denizens—rightfully so, they have returned with riches and have lost fewer than a dozen warriors during the raids.

“I fear what you would do if I didn’t,” Halfdan laughs, tossing down a heavy coin purse on the table before taking you into his arms.

“It is always good to see you again,” you smile, kissing your marriage-brother’s cheek. He is inclined to agree. After long days at sea and many weeks away, it is good to be greeted by a fair and familiar face such as yours. Halfdan clasps your shoulder as he steps around you, pouring himself a cup of mead—leaving you to his brother. “Harald,” you greet, and the hall falls silent as he approaches you.

His breath catches as he beholds you, standing before him regal as ever with a gifted silver circlet resting upon your brow. His wife. His queen. His heart. It is as though the rest of the world falls away when he stops before you, rough hands cradling your face with the gentlest of touches. “By all the gods” —he strokes his thumbs over your cheeks— “you’re even more beautiful than I remember.”

Harald’s kiss is slow and soft—save for the familiar scratch of his beard against your cheek and jaw—and speaks of the months of longing to return to your loving arms. You kiss him like you’ve done a thousand times before, falling into the rhythm as though you never parted. Your fingers comb through his beard as you part, foreheads resting together, but then your smile widens as you wrap your arms around him, holding him tight. “I’ve missed you,” you breathe. But now he’ll be yours again until the next raiding season comes.

THE WHEEL OF time does not slow, and the harvest season fades into winter and then to the first buds of spring. Nigh all the Vestfold gathered in Tamdrup tonight for the feast to celebrate sowing the first seeds of the new crop and seasoning the turned soil with sacred blood. But that is not the only reason the jarls and fighting men have come all this way. In the coming weeks, Harald, Halfdan, and anyone else willing to sail will make their way to Frankia to raid Paris with Ragnar Lothbrok. Festivities last long into the night, but Harald comes to you soon after you take leave.

He draws lines over the length of your spine as you lay with him, head pillowed on his chest, listening to the slow rhythmic beat of his heat, bare legs entwined, but then you twist in his arms and lean up to kiss him—featherlight and sweet as the mead still on his breath—fingertips following the blue-black scrollwork of his tattoos. Then he tilts his head back, letting you trace the curving lines on his neck and down to the ones on his chest—only your touch could ever make him tremble.

“Paris?” You repeat, following one of the silver scars on his ribs with your fingertips. He’s spoken of the city to the south and of Ragnar Lothbrok before, but with the night’s feast, it became official. Come the spring, he would prepare his ships and set sail to join the farmer-turned-king on his second venture to Frankia.

“Yes,” Harald says, his voice a low rasp. He sees it in your eyes, a flicker of hope that maybe this time you will sail with him and his brother—that you will be able to visit the distant lands so many speak of—but now is not the time for you to venture into the unknown. Your life is not something he can risk so easily and carelessly. Harald curls his hand around yours, then kisses the center of your palm and holds your hand close to his chest. “I need you here, my heart,” he tells you, but you already know that.

“I’ll plan a feast and a sacrifice before you and Halfdan depart,” you tell him—it is what any good queen and wife would do to see her husband and people return safe and with victory. And then he takes your lips and your breath, holding you close. You sigh into his mouth, letting his tongue brush yours, fingers slipping back into his unbound hair. His kiss is reverent, and you cannot help but miss the cracked softness of his lips against yours when he parts, but it is only so he can hold you in his arms.

TEN DAYS AFTER Harald Finehair first sets sail to Kattegat, his brother and the remainder of the fleet are ready to follow. The last of the barrels and crates are being rolled and loaded into the longships when you arrive on the docks to bid everyone farewell and good fortune on their journeys. Six hundred men and shieldmaidens from the Vestfold have gathered over the last two moons, all to leave on this day to join Ragnar Lothbrok in his endeavors—but Tamdrup will feel empty without their presence. Though, there is already a newfound hollowness in the wake of Harald’s departure.

You find Halfdan amongst the chaos, checking the yellow-red shields secured on the side of one of the ships. “Halfdan,” you call, and he turns on heel to face you with a half-bow—nigh teasing in nature, but you are, after all, his queen. Before he can stand upright, you reach out and rest your hands on his cheeks, and he bends a little farther, accepting the kiss you bestow upon his brow. “Be safe,” you tell him, hands moving to clasp his. “Look after your brother.”

Halfdan squeezes your hands. “You know I will,” he assures you. That is something you’ll never have to worry about—the bonds of blood and brotherhood run deep. You nod, and he steps back down into the longship. At your hest, they will set sail for glory and, if the gods deem it so, Valhalla.

One of your attendants hastens to the dock, stepping forward to present the gift commissioned from the blacksmith and jeweler—it's meant to be a surprise in celebration of another year of marriage, but alas, such care and detail took longer than expected. It’s a necklace of bronze and silver with a pendant shaped into the likeness of Mjölnir clasped in the mouths of two silver dragonheads on a chain of alternating links. “It was not finished before Harald left,” you explain, placing the necklace in Halfdan’s palm. “Give it to him, please.” Halfdan nods. “And all my love.”

RESOUNDING HORNS ANNOUNCE the return of Harald Finehair’s fleet in the dark hours of the evening. You rise from bed and make haste to the docks—handmaids following close behind with slippers and a cloak, but decorum is the least of your concerns. So few have returned, you think, counting the dwindling number of ships gathered compared to how many set off. The first wave departs one of the docked ships, and there is no air of triumph in those who press past you—eager to return to home and hearth and for solid ground beneath their feet. “Harald!” You call as he steps from the longship and onto the dock.

But he does not embrace you as he normally would after such a long voyage, and the spark in his stormy blue eyes is faded. It is only when you see who the men are carrying off the ship on a crude stretcher do you understand the cause of your husband’s sullen mood. “Halfdan,” you breathe, looking between him and Harald. You step to your marriage-brother and lift the pelt of fur covering his torso, grimacing—the wound at his shoulder is a festered, blackish mess, and the sweat on his brow in the first chill of winter speaks of the fever that’s set in during the return voyage.

You turn to one of your handmaids. “Call on Mjöll,” you instruct, “quickly.” The years have seen you clean and bind both Harald and Halfdan’s wounds, but this is far beyond your skill, and an herbalist will be needed to call Halfdan back from the cusp of the next life. The girl nods and sets off to the healer’s hut. Looking back at the stretcher-bearers, you point up the way to the great hall. “Take him to the great hall.” In such a state, Halfdan will need several pairs of watchful eyes.

Dark shadows cast from torchlight and iron braziers shroud Harald’s expression—he does not understand how it is you can stand with so much equanimity when faced with such loss. Harald steps to you, and his shoulders fall, then wordless, he slumps into your arms, resting his forehead on your shoulder—another weight you must bear—hands twisting into the fabric of your pale linen shift. You smooth your hand over his back, following the length of his braid-bound hair. “I thank the gods you have returned to me, my love,” you breathe, unwilling to let him part just yet.

Mjöll works to prepare a cataplasm of moss and herbs into the hours of the night, and you kneel at the prepared pallet of fur and pillows, placing a cool, damp rag upon Halfdan’s brow. There is little else you can do for your marriage brother besides trust the herbalist’s remedies, pray to the gods, and hope they are merciful. Mjöll nods for you to leave and tend to your husband. She and her apprentice will care for Halfdan.

He is pacing the length of the foot of the bed when you enter your shared chambers—hands flexing into fists at his side. You step into Harald’s path, hands going to the ties and buckles of his leathern armor. “If the High One truly sought Halfdan’s company,” you tell him, setting aside his vambraces before turning back, “he would already be feasting in the Halls of the Slain.”

To Harald, it is poor consolation but consolation all the same. And deep down, he knows you are right. Shrugging off his worn and stained tunic, he goes to the washbasin and splashes water on his face and chest, scrubbing away a mix of sweat and salt spray, and blood too. Harald returns to sit at your side on the bed—he stares ahead at the flickering flames of tallow candles. “What happened?” You finally dare ask.

“The magic of Ragnar Lothbrok failed,” he tells you. The lingering taste of defeat is bitter on his tongue—the gods had forsaken them on that river, had forsaken Ragnar. As it happened to be, he was just like any other man. “We were humiliated and pushed out of Frankia with nothing to show for it.” He does not remember the last time he returned to Tamdrup, to you, with nothing to show for his travels. It will take time for the Vestfold to recover from such a defeat.

You touch his cheek, fingers combing through his unkempt beard, drawing his gaze to you. “You live, as does your brother.” The rancor in his expression falters, his jaw unclenching, and he leans into you—his nose just barely bumping against yours. Yes, he and Halfdan escaped with their lives. That is more than can be said for many who embarked on the journey to Paris. Ragnar Lothbrok may have lost the favor of the gods, but they still smiled upon Harald and his brother. “That is enough for me,” you say, softly. He kisses you then, and you meld against him with a sigh and a slight smile that he can feel on your lips.

HE SITS ON his throne—slouched to the side and staring into the abyss, twisting his shark-tooth crown in his hands. Your king has returned, yet still, it is only you shouldering the weight of the kingdom. You stop at the dais and extend your hand toward him. “Walk with me.” It is not a request. Harald rises and follows.

The path through the forest is well-worn, both into the Earth and memory. It carves a winding route through the forest and up bare rock to a promontory overlooking Tamdrup and the mouth of the fjord—a place you frequent to look for sails on the horizon when the men are away, a place where Harald promised he would marry you one day what now feels like a lifetime ago.

But the morning fog has yet to lift from the land, just as the fog of bitterness in the aftermath of what happened in Paris has yet to lift from your husband and king. There has been no feast to honor the memory of those lost since his return several days ago and no promise or mention of what comes next for the Vestfold. It is as though he is lost in despair, mourning his brother already despite the day-by-day recovery—just yesterday, Halfdan’s fever broke.

You sit atop one of the boulders there on the promontory. There’s space enough for him to join you, but, for a moment, he lingers and stares. In the morning the light and mist, you seem like one of the winged women—ethereal. A sight that makes his heart twist and ache given the dark thoughts and mood which have taken hold of him since returning to Tamdrup.

Harald sits next to you and hangs his head, letting his hand rest on your thigh—a gentle weight and warmth. “I fear I have not been a good husband,” he confesses. It is never an easy thing for a prideful man to admit weakness and accept his faults, less so for a king. But the failed siege, his brother’s injury, and the long months spent away from you, from home, have been a heavy weight on his heart.

It does not feel right, leaving you time and time again, each longer than the last, to rule over his lands and care for his people—duties which are his. But you rule so fairly, and his people love you for it. “I have left you too often,” he breathes, a new softness and the tremble of guilt in his voice. “And I have left you to carry a burden meant to be shouldered by two backs” —his hand runs across your shoulders, down your spine— “not one.”

You never expected being wife to a king—being a queen—would be easy. Least of all, the wife of an ambitious man with dreams of uniting Norway under a single crown. Harald Finehair is vikingr. To deny him that would be to deny his true self, and even on the loneliest and coldest of nights, you could and would never ask him to be anything other than who he is—the man you love.

“I knew what was expected of me” —you card your fingers through his beard, the first tinges of silver beginning to appear, and he can find nothing but underserved doting affection in your soft gaze— “of you, when we married.” Harald covers your hand with his own, the rough pads of his fingers pressing into your palm as his hand curls around yours, a sigh on his lips. “And I happily said yes, remember?” 

He remembers the day you married well—the crown of spring wildflowers you wore, the blood-tinged kiss after exchanging rings, the bridal race with Halfdan and your cousins tripping over one another to get to the mead hall first. It is still the happiest day of his life—tied with every other day the gods let him wake up beside you.  

Shifting, you lean your forehead against his and gently slip your hand free from his. “You will always have my love and support, wherever you may be.” Harald closes his eyes and curls his hand around the back of your neck, thumb stroking the soft skin beneath your ear. And you press your hand against the center of his chest—feeling the outline of the Mjölnir necklace under your palm. “And I will be here or at your side,” you tell him, a soft whisper dancing over his lips, “wherever you need me to be.” And now he’s certain—you are too good to him.

[Harald-Halfdan taglist: @ahotmesswithprivilege / @alicedopey / @certifiedlittleshit / @charming-merlin / @elluvians / @erzsebetrosztoczy / @gearhead66 / @gossamarnie / @hc-geralt-23 / @hereforreadandwrite / @moonlightsspirit / @morganamayne / @mrsragnarlodbrok / @n0sferatus / @naaladareia / @queenyalo / @rigshak / @savagemickey03 / @xinyourdreamsx / @yalos-writing ] if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you. if you’d like to be added to my Murder Bro taglist, or any other taglist, just let me know with this Google Form! if I missed you, I am sorry! but make sure to mention it in the replies or fill out the linked Google Form!

[trevlad-sounds]

Invisible Club 018

19.06.2024

Intro 00:00 UNKNOWN ME-no gravity 01:14 gribbles-And A Spinster I’ll Be 04:40 Julio Tornero-suimasen 10:07 Ian Boddy & Markus Reuter-Presentation Of An Offering 13:04 Dark Fidelity Hi Fi-Days Of Jah View 21:46 Mwamwa-Dalab 27:31 Thought Bubble-No Hiding 33:30 Futuregrapher-Qualopec 38:16 Language Field-Plume 43:08 Mike Dickinson-Hemi-Sync i (Focus) 45:33 Sankt Otten-Melancholie für Millionen – Harald Grosskopf Remix 49:15 Maxime Dangles-Révolte 52:22 Herandu-Flea Market Finds 59:56 G-303-curiosity 1:03:27 The Galaxy Electric & Droog Mulholland-Welcome/You Blister My Paint 1:09:07 Beta Consciousness-Past Never Ends 1:12.08 Outro 1:18:50

[triste-guillotine]

RIDE FOR REVENGE “Ageless Powers Arise” (’...In all my calm I am that true evil. In all my knowledge I am the threat. In your world I cannot be free. And in my world you don’t even exist’)

1. The Hell of Old Testament 2. Your Blood for His Glory 3. Forest of Magic 4. Ageless Powers Arise 5. Pale Is the Moon of Doom 6. Your World Against Mine 7. Vomit Ugly Shit

https://rideforrevenge.bandcamp.com/album/ageless-powers-arise

[mythical-art]

Fishermans cottage -  Harald Oscar Sohlberg

[bjornswoman]

Vikings Masterlist

Bjorn Ironside

Mine

Afraid of losing you

Heart's healer

His night

Precious

Arrows

Blue piercing eyes

I love you

Zinnia

False promises

Ubbe

His dark side

Jealous

Secret

Just listen

His bride

Sick girl

Little girl

My enemy and me*

Hvitserk

Goddess

One of his women

Betrayed

Best friends

Crazy and mad

Lies* (remake) / Lies*

Fake wedding

Worth it

My prisoner

Ivar the Boneless

Mad about you

Last night, Back to you

Break

Feelings

Crimes of love

Games and conflicts

Jealous girl

Right person wrong time

Photograph

Toxic I, II

Destruction*

Harald Finehair

Promise

Allies

Live for me

Free with you

Shieldmaiden's secret

[minnesota-fats]

He’s a Spectre

DCxDP ficlet

Hal Jordan POV

I also posted this on my Ao3, go take a look at it if you are interested. IDK if i will continue this….

Enjoy!

A humanoid shape floated out in a green void, motionless and still. Feelings of longing and regret sat in his chest as he listened to the entity in his head, tell him about what he was brought back to do. The man, he thought he was a man anyway, felt both new and old. Both here and not, like he wasn’t supposed to be but was. It was all confusing.

The man looked down at himself, he clenched and unclenched his gloved fists. A ring sat over top the white fabric, glowing ever so slightly. A symbol on his chest burned, literal flames licked off the edges of the symbol. It felt familiar yet he couldn't grasp what it was supposed to be, what it was supposed to mean.

”Jordan, are you listening?” The voice asked, bringing the man back to what was happening.

“Is that my name?” He asked, pretty good for his first words.

“Harald Jordan, former air force captain and green lantern of earth. That is your name.”

”That's a mouthful,” Harald said instinctively. He smiled, “would Hal just work?” He didn't know where that came from but it sounded like it fit.

The voice seemed to sigh, making the man smile a bit. “Hal Jordan, you have been chosen as my host. In the past my hosts helped me in my quest of vengeance and in exchange all have gained forgiveness and are able to move on. It has been a long while since my last host.”

“Forgiveness? What did I do?” Hal asked, finally gaining feeling in his cold fingertips.

“you had murdered your brothers in arms while possessed by the parasite, Parallax. In the end you were able to fight back against the parasite and use the last of your power, righting most of your wrongs. You threw yourself into the sun as a final act.”

Hal didn't speak for a long time, only floated through the green space around him, passing floating islands as he went.

”You don't sugar coat anything, do you?” Hal asked, voice sounding choked up. “Where are we now?”

“The Infinite Realms, the space between dimensions.”

“Oh, alright,” Hal mumbled. “What now?”

After that day Hal continued the mission given to previous Spectre’s. However, through willpower, the mission of revenge turned to a path of redemption.

-

The Spectre flew through the chaos of the realms with a practiced ease, he didn't know how long it had been since he had become. Began? Time was odd, it all tended to blur past him in a haze. Hal knew he was never that good at keeping track of it. Which was something that he had to learn to adapt to, having memories that felt faded and hazy. He was Hal Jordan; former Green Lantern. Yet he couldn't exactly place what that means. Who was Hal Jordan? Was he a good man? Did he deserve redemption? Hal was unsure, though from the foggy memories he did remember he had a home. He had friends. He had a family.

And then he lost that home, he lost his family and he killed his friends after being driven mad. But somewhere between those memories he can see glimpses of another man, dressed in black, wearing a familiar scowl. Whether it was holding Hal in his arms, arguing with him, or simply sharing a rare smile directed at Hal after he did something the other found endearing. These memories hint at a connection that transcended the darkness that consumed Hal. Despite everything, Hal Jordan was loved—truly, deeply loved.

The Spectre was pulled from his thoughts as he felt a pull towards something ahead of him, something that required his involvement. He flew forward following the tug that Aztar told him to follow.

He followed the pull to the mortal realm, to a small town in Illinois. Hal allowed his ethereal form to fall away, donning a more human guise. The green cloak morphed into a bomber jacket—warm, comforting, and strangely familiar. It reminded him of something—or someone—from a life that felt like a distant dream. As he walked down the street, blending in seamlessly, the passersby paid him no mind.

Hal continued to follow pull until he found himself standing in a crowd, looking up to the steps of what looked like a town hall. The people around him were focused on a man standing at a podium, delivering a speech with a commanding presence. The speaker had long silver hair, neatly tied back in a ponytail, and a well-groomed beard that added to his distinguished air. He was tall, broad, and had a lean waist. He carried himself with the confidence of someone used to being in control.

As Hal's eyes locked onto the man, Aztar’s voice told him who this man was—Vladimir Masters. The man was known both in the living realm as well as the infinite. He was a halfa, a rare creature that skirted the line between living and dead. But unlike most undead, was able to blend in seamlessly.

Aztar told him that he should just drag Vladimir to hell where he belonged, there was no reasoning with a ghost. Hal rolled his eyes and just listened to what the man was saying. The mention of ghosts caught Hal off guard. that's not right? Ghosts? Unsupervised in the mortal realm? And all these people seemed to not bat an eye at his words. Odd. But that didn't matter—Vlad was someone he was sent to deal with, so he is going to deal with him.

Hal watched as the crowd thinned, many people lingering to talk to each other like how most people in small towns do. Hal found himself smiling as he began to walk forward toward the man, standing amidst what might have been his friends if it weren’t. Hal noticed the cold glare Vladimir directed at the larger man in the orange jumpsuit, who seemed wholly unaware of the Halfa’s dameenor.

As Hal approached, something caught his attention—a teen, no older than fourteen. He had been glaring at Vladimir when a puff of mist erupted from his lips, causing him to tense and look around. Interesting. Hal’s interest was piqued, but he kept his focus on Vladimir.

Hal reached out his hand to Vladimir and smiled, “Vladimir Masters, right? I’m Hal Jordan,” he says happily.

Vladimir put on a fake smile and reached out for Hal’s hand, “please, Vlad is just fine, what can I do for you?” Vlad asked, shaking Hal’s hand twice before releasing it.

Hal could feel the man's power as soon as he touched his hand. The slimy intentions wriggled around like leeches just underneath his skin. Hal could also feel the man’s hurt, his longing and how he had died cold and alone.

Hal pulled away, still smiling, “Oh, Just thought I would introduce myself, is all. I'm new to town and thought I would try and make some friends. and who are you big guy?” He asked, turning to look at the large man who practically vibrated like he was a small puppy when promised a treat.

The kid, now directed his glare at Hal as the large man walked forward to shake Hal’s hand. The man closed the distance and shook Hal's hand violently, a pure smile of joy plastered onto his face.

“I’m Jack Fenton!” the man declared with a laugh, Hal took it in strides, laughing with the man as he talked.

He pulled a short redheaded woman into his side. “This is my wife, Maddie,” he said proudly. Maddie gave a pointed look at Vladimir as soon as Jack said wife.

Next, the younger redhead introduced herself as Jasmine, their daughter, with a polite nod. Finally, the black-haired boy with furrowed brows, Danny, stood silently, his glare unwavering.

Hal reached out his hand to Danny, the teen glared at him for a moment until his mom scolded him and told him to be polite. Reluctantly, Danny took Hal’s hand, glaring still.

The moment their hands touched Hal could feel the power that buzzed behind the teen’s eyes. He could also see the pain and the anguish he had been experiencing, not only because of the silver haired man but from his parents as well. Hal also sensed the trauma of a death, this boy died screaming as his flesh melted away in a blaze….

Hal felt queasy, he forced himself to continue his easy going smile. Hal turned his attention back to the adults, now assessing the other two as well.

[procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics]

Vikings (TV) Masterlist

my requests for vikings are currently partially OPEN! please only request imagines, and not oneshots. for those waiting for a continuation of ‘searching home’ or ‘unexpected’ i am so sorry... finishing those two is going to take me a while :/

hmu/msg me to be added to a taglist!

main masterlist | request guidelines

heorte til heorte

(msg me to be added to the taglist!)

relationship: athelstan x alethia stahl (oc) | summary: alethia wanted to go home, to return to her family. instead, she finds herself in ninth-century england. not speaking the language, and still processing the grief of her other life, she searches for an anchor - athelstan. | tags: angst, fluff, timetravel

masterlist | preview | read on ao3

No romantic relationships // character x character

Queendom - relationship: Lagertha x Aslaug | summary: They’ve both loved and they’ve both lost. Perhaps it was time that their hearts warmed again. | tags: angst, fluff

The Lothbroks, aka, the European version of the Kardashians - relationships: none | summary: When Barbie Murray time travels, she finds out that pink isn’t available in Viking times. Luckily, her new besties all understand that boobs are the best and slay (literally?!) with her. | tags: crack, fluff, timetravel

I may be a bimbo, but I’m not stupid - relationships: slight oc/ oc | summary: Ivar kills Sigurd in a fit of rage, but Barbie isn't so quick to forgive cruelness. | tags: angst, crack, timetravel

1st gen Vikings

Strange Woman  relationship: Rollo x timetraveler!reader | summary: The woman that appeared out of nowhere could be oh so dangerous, but even a stupid man would know that she was fascinating. | tags: fluff, timetravel

Friend of Thor - relationship: rollo x timetraveler!asgardian!reader | summary: The reader, a fellow Asgardian and friend of Thor and the new King of Asgard, Brunnhilde, falls through worlds as the new guardian of the Bifrost tampers with the magic. | tags: crack, fluff, timetravel

And the Gods wished they were me - relationship: Judith x viking!gn!reader | summary: Judith knows she should not mourn Athelstan. Nor should she even look at Norse heathens. She does both anyway, because Judith was named after a woman that had only rage and death, and she cannot escape her fate. | tags: angst, fluff

Ubbe Ragnarsson

Another day / part 2 - relationship: Ubbe x reader | prompt: we live to fight another day. | tags: angst

Oldest - relationship: Ubbe x timetraveler!reader; platonic!Ivar x reader | summary:  It seems that few things change about being the oldest sibling, no matter which place – or time | tags: fluff, timetravel, slight angst

Yggdrasil relationship: Ubbe x reader; platonic!Ivar x reader; dad!Harald x reader | summary:  How can you tell your father what happened to you when he’d done it to so many others. | tags: angst, dark/gory

Hvitserk 'Whiteshirt' Ragnarsson

Hvitserksdottir - relationship: Hvitserk x reader | prompt: “I think we need to talk about the fact that I’m in love with you and also that I’m pregnant.” | tags: angst, fluff

Floki’s Cabin - relationship: Hvitserk x reader | prompt: “Just trust me. Please. | tags: angst

Searching Home / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 - relationships: Hvitserk x reader; Ivar x reader | summary: When you stumble upon the ancient Spanish city of Algeciras, it takes you some time to realize that you’ve traveled through time. While that is terrible luck, a merchant couple takes you in. But your peace only lasts so long. | tags: angst, fluff, dark/gory, timetravel

Neither - relationship: genderfluid!reader x Hvitserk | Summary: Hvitserk finds out about genderfluidity and accepts he might not be completely straight | tags: fluff, timetravel

Law of conservation - relationship: Hvitserk x reader | summary: You’ve been working as a tutor at your high school for about a year now. When your parents throw a barbecue party for your new neighbors, their mother Aslaug asks you to tutor her son Hvitserk, who is already a notorious flirt at his school. | tags: fluff

Sandcastles - relationship: platonic!hvitserk x timetraveler!reader | summary: reader builds sandcastles, Ivar doesn’t get it and Hvitserk loves the idea of it | tags: fluff, timetravel

When in Bali... -  relationships: hvitserk x reader, ivar x freydís, sigurd x oc | summary: You were supposed to go to Bali with your partner for your one-year anniversary. Instead, you’re there alone, heartbroken. Will reuniting with a friend you know from a summer vacation in elementary school be able to fix it? | tags: fluff

Ivar 'the Boneless' Ragnarsson

Unholy Matrimony - A Sham in Four Acts / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 - relationship: Ivar x reader | prompt: I’ve learnt to love you. | tags: angst, fluff smut

Insatiable Little Heathens  - relationship: ivar x reader | summary: drabble, for all of y’all who wanted more of Unholy Matrimony | tags: fluff

Resolve - relationship: ivar x reader | summary: Ivar’s legs hurt but he’s so fucking thickheaded | tags: fluff

My kind of witch - relationship: ivar x reader | summary: You wake up in an unfamiliar bed. The man with blazing blue eyes fascinates you as soon as you see him and as you realize the struggles he faces every day, your admiration for him grows into something more. | tags: fluff, timetravel

Red - relationship: ivar x reader | summary: Ivar finally meets his match. | tags: smut, dark/gory

Serve - relationship: sub!ivar x buff!reader | summary: Ivar keeps teasing you. You finally have enough and give him a taste of his own medicine | tags: smut

Searching home / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 -  relationships: Hvitserk x reader; Ivar x reader |  summary: When you stumble upon the ancient Spanish city of Algeciras, it takes you some time to realize that you’ve traveled through time. While that is terrible luck, a merchant couple takes you in. But your peace only lasts so long. | tags: angst, fluff, smut, dark/gory, timetravel

Totally artistic -  relationship: ivar x reader | summary: When inspiration hits, you can’t stop it | tags: fluff

Sandcastles - relationship: platonic!hvitserk, ivar x timetraveler!reader | summary: reader builds sandcastles, Ivar doesn’t get it and Hvitserk loves the idea of it | tags: fluff, timetravel

Brother - relationships: ivar x reader, hvitserk & reader, reader & oc | summary: You left your home and your brother behind for a reason. Now, a man is causing trouble at the borders of Kattegat, and as Ivar's queen, you take justice into your own hands. | tags: fluff

Unexpected / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 - relationship: ivar x thrall!reader | summary: Ivar finally decides to fuck the slave he’s been eyeing for so long, but when his angry side slips out, things take a turn for the wholly unexpected. | tags: smut

Tarot -  relationships: ivar x reader, hvitserk & reader | summary: Your day at the fair has been pretty slow – until a client like no other shows up. | tags: fluff

Imagines

How the Vikings would react to an accidental time traveler and a quiz to see if you’d survive: https://uquiz.com/dVXpgW

Ragnarssons (+Gyda): First Kiss

Social Media 

How the Vikings would react to guns and snapchat filters 

How the Vikings would react to modern dancing 

How the Vikings would react to modern music, and what they’d like

How the Vikings would react to modern concepts of astronomy and space 

How the Vikings react to modern haircare 

Vikings and Astrology

How Vikings would react to THEM timetraveling

Vikings + getting sick 

Vikings + Halloween 

Vikings + realizing you’re pregnant

Vikings characters + how they'd react to finding Accidental Time Traveler crying somewhere and not knowing why 

Vikings + you on your period  (+ more hcs about Ivar)

Vikings + Legos

Vikings + reader being much less stressed in their time

Vikings + single mother

Vikings + Gender Neutral Thor

Vikings + modern food

Vikings + touch avoidant cuddler

Vikings + Kids

Vikings + their history

Ragnarssons + being possesive

Vikings + Maleficent/Fae!reader

Vikings + curls and afros

Vikings + sleeping habits

Vikings + contortionist/super flexible reader

Vikings as modern!uni students

Vikings + affectionate drunk!reader

timetraveling!Vikings + modern tv/movies

Vikings + gen z slang

Vikings + curly haired kids

timetraveling!Vikings + Christmas

Vikings + eras other than their own

Vikings + ivar being remembered/famous

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Common Knowledge 4

Warnings: non/dubcon, power imbalance, bullying, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Geralt of Rivia, Harald Halfdansson, tall & plus-size reader

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

With your thesis proposal submitted and marked, the real work lies ahead of you. You’ve claimed your spot in the library, a stack of cue cards with your arguments laid out in columns. It’s the easiest way to sort out your information and narrow down your key arguments. It’s a bit messy but you like the visual diagram to parse out your own thoughts.

You receive a few shaded looks from those who pass by looking for a spot of their own. You don’t mind moving over if they do want to sit but none approach. You bend over the table and switch two cards. You’re standing, circling the table as you’re swept up in getting just the right flow.

You back up and hum. You grab another card, jotting down a new point to add and a sudden slam makes you jump. The thump of the large book on the table sends the cards scattering in a whirlwind. You sputter as you look up at the figure across from you.

You can’t hide your surprise. It’s been a week since the smoothie shop incident and not close to long enough. That man stands on the other side of the table smirking, his white eyes eerily calm but smug. What are the odds he’s a student here?

You shake your head and roll your eyes. You step forward and start gathering up the cards. Your dorm room bed would be just as good as a table. As you reach to swipe up a card, he grabs it first and reads your writing, letting out a scoff.

“Hmm, how cute,” he muses, “you’re trying.”

You ignore him. Whatever, he can keep the cards. You close up your books and slip them into your bag. He plants his hands on the table and leans forward, gaze boring into you.

“Running away again?”

“Do you not know how to take a hint?”

“As much as you,” he counters, “I just wanted to show you that I found a copy of my own.”

You glance at the book in the middle of the table and furrow your brow. Really? This is some weird battle you don’t want to fight. You blow out between your lips and keep tidying up your things. Your laptop is closed and slid away before you can nab it.

You grip the edge and try to pull it from his grasp. He easily dislodges it and tucks it under his thick arm. You hiss and look around, flabbergasted. You turn your frustration around and reach for that coveted book. He stretches his other arm in front of you, blocking you as he looms closer.

“Not so fast,” he holds his large hand up, “would you stop and listen?”

“I’m not interested in listening to you,” you puff out, “give me my computer.”

“Would you let me say what I came to say–”

“Bro, no. How did you even find– you know what? Don’t care. It’s weird. And creepy. Give me my computer and leave me alone. I’ll scream.”

“Relax, you’re being dramatic.”

“Dramatic? You want to see dramatic–”

“Would you stop?” His voice rises, drawing looks from a few other students and some hushes. His throat bobs as he peers around, “I’m trying to apologise, alright? I thought…” his eyes meet yours with almost a sheepish tint, “I’d buy you a coffee and we could talk about mythology.”

Your lashes flutter as you try to keep your eyes from rolling so far back they get stuck. You don’t know that you’ve ever met anyone so oblivious. College has introduced you to several characters but nothing like him.

Your mouth falls open and you shake your head. You step forward and latch onto your laptop. He lets you take it. You’re very aware he could keep it from you easily. For all his flaws, he is clearly in good shape.

“I’m trying not to laugh in your face,” you back up and put the book into your knapsack, “so I’ll be very honest and clear with you. You are the most rude, obnoxious person I’ve ever encountered. Free coffee couldn’t even make me spend a single second with you.”

He grits his teeth as his jaw squares, the cleft deepening as he tilts his head. His frustration is laced in confusion. His eyes search you.

“Oh,” is all he manages to get out.

“Right, so, goodbye.”

You swing your bag over your shoulder and snatch your jacket from the back of the chair. You go to step by him and he moves with you. You are actually about to scream.

“Can’t we start over?” He asks.

How many ways can you say no?

You look left and right and your eyes meet an unexpected pair. Oh, you’re not sure if that’s good. Professor Halfdansson raises his hand to give a small wave as he diverts his strut in your direction. You clamp your lips together and turn back to the man in front of you.

“I don’t think so,” you say bluntly.

“Ah, studying are we?” Halfdansson approaches, coming up perpendicular to you and Geralt.

“Uh,” you look between them as the professor gives a thoughtful look to the other man. “Just leaving.”

“This is a friend?” He wonders.

“No,” you answer as Geralt says “yes.”

You have to hold back a snort. You don’t get this. Any of it. Neither of these men seem to have any sort of self-awareness. At least not a concept of reality.

You bite your tongue and rein in the smart retorts flashing through your mind. You make yourself smile, or at least try to muster one. You take a deep breath.

“I have to go,” you say crisply. “Excuse me.”

Geralt is kept at bay by the presence of your professor, though Halfdansson appears astounded by your abrupt dismissal. You’ll have to apologise in class but most importantly, you need to get this goddamn paper done. Without a man hovering around and distracting you.

[romerona]

Stellar Veil

In which a star falls in Westeros.

Cregan Stark x reader????

Words 1.7k

The night draped Westeros in its customary shroud, stars flickering like cold diamonds against the dark tapestry of the sky. And yet, amidst this celestial dance, a singular brilliance unfolded—a comet, resplendent in its fiery tail, streaked boldly across the heavens.

In King's Landing, where ambition and conspiracy brewed as thick as the city's smog, the Red Keep stood sentinel against the cosmic display. Nobles and commoners alike were drawn to its battlements and gardens, their faces upturned in wonder and trepidation. The comet's golden glow suffused the city, casting shadows that danced across cobblestones and whispered secrets into the night.

Far to the west, where the Iron Islands gripped the tempestuous seas, sailors paused in their dance with the waves. From the deck of every longship, weathered faces turned skyward, witnessing the comet's passage mirrored in the restless waters below. Above them, the ancient castle of Pyke seemed to hold its breath, its jagged silhouette outlined against the blaze.

Across the tumultuous waters of the Narrow Sea, the comet's brilliance reflected off the prow of Braavosi merchant ships and the galleys of the Free Cities. Sailors, traders and slaves hardened by salt and sea, paused in their endless voyages to witness this divine occurrence.

In the Reach, where the verdant fields of Highgarden stretched beneath a canopy of stars, peasants and nobles alike paused. They gazed heavenward, their hearts filled with awe and mistrust, as tales danced upon their lips.

And in the North, where the night was as black as obsidian and the stars burned with an icy intensity, the comet blazed its final path. Its light pierced the veil of mist hanging over the haunted forest and the desolate lands beyond. There, amidst the sentinel trees and the solemn silence of the far North, the comet's radiance flared brightly before vanishing beyond the horizon.

South of the Wall, in the desolate expanse known as the Gift, the comet's descent shattered the silence of the frozen wilderness with fierce force. A blinding flash of light, brighter than the pale moon above, rent the night asunder. The ground trembled violently beneath the celestial impact, sending shockwaves rippling through the thick crust of snow that covered the ancient land.

As the earth ceased its violent tremors, silence descended upon the northern wilderness like a heavy cloak. The Night's Watch, vigilant guardians of the Wall and the realms of men, stood amidst the aftermath of the comet's impact, their faces etched with awe and apprehension.

Commander Ulric Rivers, a grizzled veteran of many winters, surveyed the scene with a mixture of curiosity and concern. His voice cut through the lingering echoes of the crash, commanding attention from the assembled rangers.

"Brothers," he intoned, his words carrying the weight of authority earned through years of service beyond the Wall. "Gather your gear. We must survey the impact site."

The rangers, seasoned men clad in black with weapons and fur-trimmed cloaks, exchanged glances of determination. Among them, Harald Snow, a knight of the Watch known for his keen eye and steady hand, stepped forward.

"Commander," Ser Harald spoke, his voice steady despite the tension that hung in the air, "We will go. We'll bring back word of what we find, true as steel."

Commander Ulric nodded in approval, his expression grim but resolute. "Go swiftly, and return with all haste. The hour is late."

With that, the rangers set forth, the horses steps crunch on the icy ground as they ventured towards the crater that marked the comet's violent descent. Behind them, the rest of the Night's Watch remained vigilant, their eyes trained upon the northern horizon where the comet's trail still lingered faintly in the night sky.

The rangers approached the crater cautiously, their breath visible in the frigid air as they navigated the transformed landscape. The snow around the impact site had melted into a steaming morass, revealing scorched earth and jagged fragments of rock still glowing faintly with residual heat. The air hummed with a strange, palpable energy, casting an otherworldly glow over the scene.

Ser Jaremy Woodbear, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, led the way with Harald Snow close behind. Their sharp eyes scanned their surroundings, taking in every detail with the precision of a seasoned watchman. Beside them, Alexio Stone, a stoic figure with weathered features and a keen intellect, knelt to examine a particularly large fragment of rock that jutted from the ground like a blackened tooth.

"Careful now," Harald Snow cautioned, his voice a low murmur that carried on the wind. "We don't know what this rock may hold. Keep your wits about you."

Ser Jaremy Woodbear, ever vigilant, was the first to notice the form inside the crater—a woman.

"Ser Harald, come, there's a woman..." Jaremy called out quietly, his voice carrying a note of awe and uncertainty.

Harald Snow hurried to his side, his eyes narrowing as he beheld the scene before him. Nestled amidst the charred remnants of the comet's impact lay a figure unlike any he had seen in his years ranging away from the Wall. A woman, an ethereal woman. Her skin seemed to shimmer with a faint glow, casting gentle reflections upon the jagged rocks that surrounded her.

"Gods be good," Harald muttered under his breath, his hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of his sword. "What in the name of the Seven Kingdoms...?"

Alexio Stone slowly made his way down and knelt beside the woman, his weathered hands hovering uncertainly above her prone form. "She... she's glowing,"

The woman lay still, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm that seemed out of place amidst the chaos of the impact site. Her hair, a cascade that shimmered like moonlight, framed a face that could have graced the halls of the most illustrious castles in Westeros. Despite the harshness of her surroundings, an air of tranquility radiated from her presence, as if she were untouched by the violence that had torn through the night.

"She does not seem a threat. We'll take her back to Castle Black,” Harald decided finally, his gaze lingering upon the woman's enigmatic form. "Ser Jaremy, help me carry her."

With careful hands, the ranger lifted the unconscious woman from the heart of the crater, cradling her as gently as if she were made of glass. Her ethereal glow seemed to pulse faintly in response to the touch, but as they traveled, the ethereal glow that had surrounded her began to dim, fading like the dying embers of a once brilliant fire. Her radiant presence dwindled until she appeared as any ordinary woman, though her beauty still held a haunting quality that spoke of otherworldly origins.

Harald Snow glanced at her intermittently, his brow furrowed in contemplation. "Keep an eye on her," he instructed the rangers quietly, his voice carrying a rare note of uncertainty. "We know not what we carry."

The journey back to Castle Black was fraught with quiet tension, each step echoing with the weight of their extraordinary discovery. The woman remained unconscious, her features peaceful yet arcane as if she carried secrets woven into the very fabric of her being.

As the gates of Castle Black creaked open to admit the weary party, all eyes turned towards the mysterious woman cradled in the arms of Ser Jaremy Woodbear and his fellow rangers. The men of the Night's Watch gathered in hushed clusters, their faces etched with curiosity and apprehension as they beheld the ethereal beauty now brought within their walls. Commander Ulric Rivers stepped forward to greet them, his brow furrowed in stern inquiry. His gaze locked onto the woman.

"What is the meaning of this?" Ulric Rivers demanded, his voice cutting through the murmurs that had begun to ripple through the assembled ranks. His eyes narrowed with suspicion, though beneath the stern exterior, there flickered a hint of curiosity and perhaps even concern.

Harald Snow, unwavering in the face of his superior's scrutiny, stepped forward with measured resolve. "We found her at the site of the comet's impact," he explained evenly, his tone betraying none of the awe he felt at the mysterious woman's presence thought he hesitated to continue. "She… appeared to be glowing.”

The courtyard fell silent as the gravity of their discovery settled over the assembled brothers. Whispers filled the air, mingling with the chill wind that swept down from the Wall, most not believing, saying it was a wildling woman, others whispering about sorcery.

Ulric Rivers approached the woman with cautious steps, his gaze assessing her with a mixture of scepticism and a begrudging acknowledgement of the inexplicable. Her ethereal beauty was undeniable—a stark contrast to the rugged surroundings of the ancient stronghold. Her hair, a shade that shimmered iridescently in the torchlight, cascaded around her like a flowing waterfall of sapphire strands. It was a hue unlike any he had seen before.

Her attire was equally unusual—a gown of fine fabric that seemed to shift and shimmer with every movement, as if woven from threads spun by the stars themselves. Its design was intricate, with patterns that hinted at craftsmanship far beyond the skills known to the realms of Westeros.

Ulric Rivers frowned, his thoughts racing with speculation. "This is no wildling," he muttered under his breath, his voice a gruff murmur that carried a note of wonder. "Nor any woman of our lands."

Beside Ulric, Harald Snow exchanged a meaningful glance with Ser Jaremy Woodbear and Alexio Stone. They had seen many things in their years on the Wall, but none quite like this.

"Should we remove her gown?" Harald asked quietly, his voice tinged with uncertainty. That statement earn a hum of agreement from the men around them.

However, Ulric shook his head, his gaze still fixed on the woman. "No, leave her be for now, we'll keep her under watch until we have answers. Lord Stark will need to hear of this. Prepare quarters for her," he instructed, his tone firm despite the uncertainty that gnawed at the edges of his command. "And summon the Maester. We'll need his counsel."

With practiced efficiency, ser Jaremy Woodbear carried the woman to a chamber within Castle Black, where torchlight flickered against the ancient stone walls and cast long shadows across the floor. And above them, the stars continued their eternal dance, oblivious to the upheaval their celestial sibling had wrought upon the realm of men.

Part 2?????

A/N: The story is inspired by Stardust by Neil Gaiman.

I’m still unsure who is the main LI will be but Cregan is top 3.

And while it's an Xreader I will be describing the hair colour and eyes. But just that.

[bumblesimagines]

Under The Moonlight

Part 16

Request: Yes or No

Summary: Seven years have passed since (Y/N) and the crew arrived to Constantinople. They've settled in since then, but life has not been easy for them.

CW/TW: Violence, war, religion bashing, vikings being vikings, period era situationships lmao, angst?, hurt emotionally and physically but barely any comfort, red flags? dont know her, (y/n) im begging you there's better fish in the sea

If you're new here and wondering where this came from, you can check out part one here and the masterlist here!

~~~

Seven years had passed since Emperor Romanos offered his sincere gratitude for ensuring the safe passage of his new wife, Eleana who they now were to call Empress Zoe. His gratitude reared its head through riches, rewards, and a place amongst his people, as well as a place amongst his army of men trained to kill and conquer the land of the empire's enemies. Constantinople was home now, even if temporarily.

They'd all settled in, although it'd taken time to grow accustomed to the vastly different culture and language. It'd been a difficult feat for (Y/N), his longing for his real home never dissipating amidst the heat and flourishing city. He missed his settlement in Greenland, his old friends, dearly missed his beloved mother who'd no doubt presumed him dead when he and his siblings hadn't returned home from their voyage. He longed for the cold and snow, the sound of the wind howling at night. 

Leif and Harald, ever the adaptable ones, slotted in perfectly with their surroundings.

Harald climbed the ranks with ease, finding himself a stranger no more to Emperor Romanos as his personal bodyguard and newfound general of his own army: the Varangians, an army full of Vikings and mercenaries in need of a home and money. It'd been expected from a Viking prince to slither his way up and coil around such an important role. He ensured the crew joined his army, and took part in the fighting and rewards. But it was never enough for Harald, no matter how many riches he acquired through the years. Nothing was ever enough for him.

Leif took to Mariam's old home and called it his own, his newfound thirst for knowledge only growing after he read through all her books and eventually began seeking it out in places called 'libraries'; rooms of knowledge, he explained. Each time they traveled to fight another war for Emperor Romanos, he sought out the writings and maps of those places, learning new information from ancient and modern times. The sciences of the world around them enthralled him, captivated him into an obsession. (Y/N) preferred it, though. He preferred his brother's eagerness over watching Leif lose himself in grief again. 

As much as (Y/N) found himself feeling out of place, fighting for the Byzantine Empire and calling Constantinople had given him much to do; and provided him with chances to see places he never would've dreamt of seeing. Such as the place they'd traveled to now, to defeat the Saracens at the urging of General Maniakes in Sicily. They'd been fighting for six months in what felt like an endless siege, and Emperor Romanos had begun growing antsy. 

(Y/N) squinted through the darkness as he walked through the tunnels they'd been digging for the past few weeks, a lantern tightly gripped in one hand and held before him. His eyes slowly grew accustomed to the darkness around him, allowing him to better see the crevices in the dirt walls around him. Short wooden beams and planks held the dirt in place, preventing it from crumpling and trapping those within. All a part of Leif's plan, as always. 

"How are we doing, Kaysan?" (Y/N) called out once the man came into view, flashing him a smile and being rewarded with a large one in return. Kaysan chuckled and wiped his hands along his pants, the subtle stink of sulfur lingering in the air around them. Foul-smelling enough to bring tears to one's eyes, but Leif insisted it was needed for his plan to work. 

"Your brother is working on the last of the sulfur we need. He says once it is ready, we can set the plan in motion." Kaysan answered, taking a step back to admire the combined work of the last couple weeks. Bundles of sulfur had been pushed into holes expanding across the wall of dirt, ready to be lit by a flame that'd bring down the tunnel and subsequently the wall of the fortress just mere feet above them. "I must admit I had little faith in his plan at first. But seeing what this powder can do when a flame is close to it..." Kaysan shook his head lightly, a twinkle of admiration in his dark eyes. 

"It is hard to match up to such a creative thinker as Leif." (Y/N) chuckled, his steps slow as he walked along the wall and took in the wall before him. He'd always known his brother had been destined for great things, whether on land or sea. Leif had inherited the best parts of his parents. No longer the savage son of Erik the Red. No, that title had fallen on (Y/N)'s shoulders, and he accepted it. 

"Come now," Kaysan gave his shoulder a small playful push. "You hardly need to match up to him, (Y/N). You're a smart man, and a loyal one at that; and, from what I've heard, you're quite charismatic when you wish to be."

"Have you been gossiping with the others, Kay?" (Y/N) questioned with a teasing grin, casting a glance at the man over his shoulder. It hardly counted as gossip, he supposed. Things with Harald never lasted long, whether he pulled away first or Harald did, but they always returned to each other in a desperate clash. It was vexing and tiresome, and he'd made up his mind a long time ago to put his foot down when it came to the charming prince. 

Kaysan gave a light shrug. "It surprised us, is all." 

The thumping of footsteps, soft panting, and clinking of lanterns swaying filled the tunnel, and (Y/N) had heard the panting noise enough times to recognize who it belonged to. He made brief eye contact with Kaysan and turned, raising his lantern high and smiling at the sight of his brother, although it faltered slightly when Harald appeared behind him. 

"Keeping an eye on things?" Leif asked, his hand rubbing affectionately into (Y/N)'s shoulder when he passed him by. The two Vikings carried sacks slung over their shoulder, no doubt the last of the sulfur they needed to ensure the wall would completely collapse and allow them within. (Y/N) gave a silent nod, feeling Harald's eyes burning into the side of his skull.

"Future King of Norway," Kaysan greeted teasingly, patting Harald's arm and taking the sack from Harald so he could insert the last of it into the dirt walls around them. Harald chuckled breathlessly in return, tearing his eyes away from (Y/N) to study the dirt room. (Y/N) allowed himself to watch him, taking in the grime and blood covering his exposed biceps and face. He'd ridden off to battle once more, no doubt a failure as all the battles before. 

"As soon as we take this castle," Harald murmured, his hands coming to rest at his hips. (Y/N) swallowed, his gaze sliding away from the beautiful prince as bitterness settled in his stomach. Despite the years that'd passed, Harald's mind never changed on what he truly desired above all else: the throne of Norway, one occupied by the son of a man Harald once considered a close friend. 

"Is there really as much treasure inside as you say?" Kaysan asked, voice strained as he worked to shove the rolls of sulfur into the wall with Leif's help.

"Enough to fund all our dreams," Harald replied. 

(Y/N) hooked his lantern on one of the wooden posts and crouched down beside him, rolling up the dark blue sleeves of his tunic and revealing the ink along his right arm. The creature his mother would tell tales of back in his youth; a sea monster that resembled an octopus but grew to be as large as a warship named Kraken.

The head and body of the began around his bicep while the tentacles expanded and wrapped around his forearm, stopping around his wrist. He understood why so many others covered themselves with ink, whether writings or designs. The Kraken reminded him of his mother, of all the times he spent on a boat watching his brother and father hunt for narwhals and other sea beasts. 

Dipping his hand into the sack, he wrapped his fingers around one of the rolls and carefully lifted it before he pushed it into one of the holes in the wall. He rolled it side to side, scrapping and mushing dirt until the roll was securely in place. He mimicked the movements with a few more rolls, absentmindedly listening to the three men speak about the plan until he finished, his fingertips lightly dusted in the vibrant yellow powder. (Y/N) stood back up and turned, nearly barreling into Harald's chest plate. 

"Can we speak?" Harald asked softly, and (Y/N) felt his skin burn at the knowing glances cast in their direction from Kaysan and Leif. 

"We have little to speak about, Harald." (Y/N) told him, scooping his lantern back into his hand and making his way through the tunnel. Harald followed him because the man never took an answer he didn't want, and (Y/N) largely ignored him until they reached the entrance of the tunnel and stepped out into the blinding light of the late evening. 

"There's much to speak about, actually. Starting with the most important thing-"

"The throne?" (Y/N)'s features scrunched up, his spotty vision slowly adjusting to the daylight around them. He blinked a few times and his vision finally focused on the bustling camp around them. His gaze darted back to Harald's face, catching the grimace that passed over his features at his words before the general cleared his throat. 

"No, I do not... I don't wish to speak of the throne. I know how you feel about it. You know how I feel about it." Harald frowned, his lips nearly covered by his thick beard. He took the lanterns from his hands and hung them up by the entrance, a heavy sigh escaping him. "You've done well in Constantinople for many years. I've seen you flourish. You're not as guarded as you once were. If you can do well in a court like the Emperor's, you'd do even better in a Viking court amongst your own people." 

"Except it'd be your court with Christian jarls and Vikings who believe me worshipping a god that isn't theirs is a crime punishable by death. Your religion loves violently, Harald, as do its supporters. They'd condemn you for everything you've done with me." (Y/N) scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief and walking forward deeper into camp toward his tent. They'd had the conversation many times over the last few years, a neverending dance of push and pull trying to tire each other out into admitting defeat. But they were Vikings, and Vikings never gave up easily. 

(Y/N) stepped through the flaps of his tent and released a heavy sigh, his feet guiding him to the basin sat on the table filled with warm water. He dipped his hands inside, cleaning the dirt and sulfur off his fingers until the water turned murky. The tent flaps rustled with the arrival of someone else stepping into his tent and he peeked over his shoulders, half-expecting to see Harald but only seeing Dorn. She smiled at him, her hands and sleeves of her blue tunic steeped in dark red. He crinkled his nose. 

"Trust me," She sighed. "I know how it smells." 

"Come wash your hands, then." (Y/N) smiled, picking up a rag and drying his hands with it as she stepped up and eagerly rinsed her hands clean of pig's blood. Her eyes flickered up toward him a few times, her lips twisting and teeth digging lightly into them. He tilted his head at her and took a seat at the table, reaching out to pluck a grape from the bowl in the center. "What is it, Dorn?" 

"Batu and I were speaking the other day, and the topic of you and Harald came up." She began softly, thumb roughly rubbing into the skin of her palm until the streak of blood disappeared. Dorn raised her drenched hands toward her face, wiping off the grime and splatters of blood that'd collected on her skin. "I always wondered what went wrong between you both. When we meet... it seemed as if you two had much unspoken business. Then, during our trip to Constantinople, it all became clear. You were lovers, or former lovers, it was hard to tell at times but you... loved each other. We thought you had reconciled from whatever had occurred and yet..." 

"I've come to learn that love is complicated, and at most times it's the worst thing that can occur. Harald is... a lot of things, too many things, truly. If you are worried that the same will happen between you and Batu, I can certainly assure you that it will not. Batu loves you, Dorn. I can see that you love him. You're happy together, content. Neither of you desires more than what you have now. Harald does. He hungers for far too many things, and it will eventually be his ruin. I do not wish to be dragged along with him." 

"But you love each other?" Dorn questioned, wiping away droplets of water from her chin and drying her hands on her pants. (Y/N) plopped the grape into his mouth and bit into it, feeling the juices explode along his tongue as he mulled over her question. He loved Harald, he knew that well, but part of him resented him too. Most days, Harald made him wonder if he loved him, or merely lusted after him.

"It's complicated." He answered quietly, and Dorn winced, giving a meek nod and turning on her heel to leave the tent. He watched her depart, a mixture of emotions coiling around his heart and constricting it. (Y/N) released a shaky inhale and ran his hand over his face, forcing away the thoughts of Harald and their odd relationship to focus on preparing himself for a good night's rest and a long morning. 

Seven years had passed, but it barely changed either of them.

The following morning, (Y/N) and the others awoke and began preparing for the day ahead before the sun had even risen over the horizon. They changed into clothes more worthy of battle, putting on their armor and chain mail before collecting their weapons. (Y/N) secured his dagger to his hip and retrieved a battle axe, a hefty yet powerful thing that'd do more swift damage than his dagger. By the time the sun rose, the Varangian army had gathered around awaiting instructions. 

"Ready?" Leif asked softly, instinctively reaching out to check the straps of (Y/N)'s armor. The younger man smiled and allowed him to do so without fuss, a soft chuckle leaving him when Leif gave an approving nod, his fingers running over the chain mail before his arms dropped back to his sides. 

"As always." (Y/N) sighed, glancing at Harald when the prince approached them. The deep furrow in his brows softened when they locked eyes, the determination in his gaze disappearing into a look of longing. Harald had grown over the years, all his training with a disciplined army making him stronger, and larger. His hair had grown, as had his beard, and on the days the two managed to keep the peace without arguments, Harald allowed him to trim them. He looked older, more king than prince, and it made his stomach churn to admit it to himself.

Harald walked past them with a nod, coming to a stop at the entrance of the tunnel and peering into the darkness inside where Batu and Kaysan waited for the right moment. They were to draw the attention of the soldiers and coax them into attacking first so the flames from their attack ignited the trail leading to the sulfur. Once ignited, the two had to run before the tunnel exploded and the wall fell. Harald raised his battle axe and lightly tapped the bell, the one Batu needed to ring when the plan sprung into action. 

"You never were good at waiting, were you?" Leif arched a brow, wrapping his fingers around the bell to stop it from swaying and tolling. A small, playful smile tugged at Harald's lips. "Patience. It won't be long now, friend."

"Patience is hardly one of Harald's best attributes." (Y/N) murmured, a hint of teasing in his voice that drew Harald's lips into a full smile. Harald's hand reached out toward him, his palm pressing over his hip and sliding over his lower back; fingers dipping under the silver armor and pressing into the fabric beneath. His touch always felt protective and safe, but it never failed to fill (Y/N) with a false sense of hope. 

"It has always been one of yours, though," Harald spoke softly, his fingertips rubbing the fabric into (Y/N)'s skin affectionately. His eyes crinkled, and despite everything that'd been bubbling up inside (Y/N)'s stomach, he returned the smile. The prince's hand moved to the base of his neck, squeezing the exposed skin there lightly. To any strangers, it may have come across as two close friends merely speaking. But it was simply because Harald couldn't touch his face in public as he desired. "We should speak after the battle, (Y/N). I cannot allow another day to pass without us having a conversation." 

Pursing his lips, (Y/N) gave a small nod and wrapped his fingers over Harald's wrist. "Fine, Harald." Harald's features brightened and he leaned in, pressing their foreheads together before he released him as the bell began to toll. 

The enemy had fallen right for Leif's trap, just as they had hoped. 

Harald clapped Leif's shoulder and trekked back to his post atop a mound of dirt overlooking his army of seven hundred men and women. He began his speech, his words of encouragement riling up the army into cheers and shouts, warrior cries and calls. (Y/N) lingered by the tunnel's entrance, searching the dark for any sign of Batu and Kaysan as the army erupted into more cheers and cries. He spotted movement and Batu emerged, his armor slightly singed and parts of him coated in ash. (Y/N) waited with bated breath for Kaysan, but he never emerged, 

"Leif," (Y/N) turned to look at his brother, giving a light shake of his head. Leif's jaw clenched and he inhaled sharply, tossing his axe to Batu and motioning for him to join the others before he entered the tunnel, the darkness swallowing him and voice echoing off the walls until it grew distant and hardly audible. 

The cries and war horns sounded off through the valley as the army moved, rushing toward the wall their tunnel had led to. The ground gave a light tremor, and through the darkness, Leif emerged with Kaysan leaning on his body, a trickle of blood seeping down from his temple as dark smoke escaped from within the tunnel. (Y/N) called over one of the healers, helping his brother hand Kaysan off to the older man before the two turned and spotted the wall crumbling into a heap of smoke and dust. General Maniakes' men sprinted into action, following after the Varangians and joining the battle. 

"Come!" Leif called to him, taking two axes for himself and running toward the fortress with (Y/N) hot on his heels. 

Stepping through the rumble of the fallen wall, all that could be heard were cries of anger and pain, the clashing of metal against metal, and the thumping of rushing footsteps as all armies hurried to fight and defend. (Y/N) moved forward, locking onto the first Saracen soldier he saw and swinging his axe. The soldier blocked with his shield and then pulled it away to thrust his sword forward, but (Y/N) anticipated the attack and dodged, raising his axe and embedding the blade into the side of the soldier's throat. 

Taking the shield for himself, (Y/N) used it to block attacks from other soldiers, shoving them back and into expecting Varangians who struck the soldiers down with cries and heaves. The first wave of soldiers fell easily and (Y/N) heard Harald's victory cry sound off throughout the air, the tight crowd dispersing throughout the fortress to attack, take, and conquer as they made their way to the castle. The people residing within the walls had quickly fled to the castle for sanctuary, leaving the place largely deserted apart from the second and then the third wave of soldiers. 

By the time they reached the castle gates, Emperor Romanos had joined them, and with his appearance came a plea for parley that momentarily stopped the fighting. (Y/N) found his way to Leif, standing beside him and Dorn as the gates into the castle slowly parted, revealing soldiers inside and the people that'd taken refuge watching from windows or along the roofs. Their ruler, the Emir of Syracuse, waited in the center, clad in clothes and robes of gold and black. He walked forward, and despite his city having been sacked, his face remained unreadable. 

"Emir," Emperor Romanos spoke, "We have reached your barbican and taken your city. Your castle is surrounded. I have come to ask for your surrender, to save your people unnecessary suffering and death." Leif stepped forward, beginning to repeat his words in Arabic but the Emir raised his hand to stop him.

"A translator is not necessary. I understand you perfectly." He said, waving Leif off before he turned his attention back to Emperor Romanos, his dark eyes studying the shorter man before him. "There will be no surrender. As we speak, a great Saracen army is on its way from Cairo and Alexandria to join us. When it arrives it will be you who is surrounded and destroyed."

"For your sake, you should hope it arrives soon." Emperor Ramons responded.

There seemed to be a certain smugness that passed over the Emir's features, finally breaking the serious stare. "We are not worried. We have food and supplies to last us many months."

"But no water." Leif piped up, and the smugness promptly vanished, the furrow in Emir's brows disappearing and the corner of his lips turning downwards. "Syracuse has six wells. I diverted water from five. Your supply will last a week at most." 

At that, Emperor Romanos grinned. "Perhaps your allies will reach you and destroy us before that happens, or perhaps they won't and..." His eyes raised and dragged over the people watching and listening, amongst them women and frightened children. The Emir's head turned and (Y/N) followed his line of sight to a woman with three children at her side, all of various ages. His wife and children, he assumed. "Syracuse will perish. But either way.. many will die. And all will suffer."

"Then I offer another solution," The Emir said, tearing his attention away from his family to look back at them. "Single combat between two fighters. If you are victorious, Sycaruse is yours and you have my promise that my warriors will not retaliate. If you lose, you must depart and not return. Either way, my people must not be harmed."

"And who would your warrior be?" The Emperor inquired with a slight tilt of his head. (Y/N) glanced toward Harald, and then General Maniakes. The brutal, hate-filled man had hardly done much to win his ruler's approval over the last days, at least in comparison to Harald who'd handed him the fortress on a golden platter with little trouble. The Emperor himself would never fight, but he'd certainly unleash his favorite dog on the enemy. 

"Me," Emir answered icily. "And yours?"

"I fight for the empire." General Maniakes deep voice rumbled as he stepped forward but Emperor Romanos raised his hand to stop him, shaking his head and turning to look over his shoulder at Harald. The corners of his lips twisted up into a smile, one that made General Maniakes scowl and glare viciously at Harald.

"You will fight my Varangian." Emperor Romanos responded, striding forward toward the Emir and giving a dip of his head. "And you have my promise. Your people will not be harmed and our agreement, honored."

(Y/N) remained silent the walk back to camp, his gaze bouncing between the floor and staring holes into the back of Harald's head as they entered Leif's tent alongside the others. He approached the basin and dipped a rag inside, roughly wiping his hands and face clean to distract himself from his churning mind. He could feel the irritation creeping up his back, an annoyance he couldn't quite pin on anyone. Batu sharpened Harald's axe in thought, the sound filling the silence while Kaysan helped Harald adjust his armor. 

"If we were in Novgorod, I could sell a thousand seats and make enough to retire," Batu said and laughed heartily, his words only reminding (Y/N) of the countless times Harald had thrown himself into battle without thinking. He scarcely had good memories of Novgorod, and the ones he remembered vividly were of Harald bloody and battered. 

Without thinking, (Y/N) sent Batu a glare sharp enough to get his friend to hurriedly clamp his mouth shut and wince. He cleared his throat and diverted his eyes, subtly motioning for Kaysan and him to make their exit. Kaysan nodded and stood up from his stool, giving Harald a pat on the shoulder as Batu handed him his axe back and smiled encouragingly before the two quickly slipped out of the tent; leaving Harald alone with the two brothers. 

"We can select three weapons. I'll start with the battle axe." Harald spoke, approaching the weapon's table and setting the axe alongside the rest. (Y/N) inhaled deeply through his nose and rubbed his fingertips against his temple to soothe the beginnings of a headache away before it could consume him. Leif remained equally as silent and it finally made Harald cave. "You're both quiet, which means you're either angry or worried about something. Perhaps both."

"I worry you underestimate him," Leif revealed with a sigh, raising his head to look at his friend with a growing frown. Harald scoffed, his brows furrowing as his eyes darted between the two brothers, almost as if offended they'd doubt him. (Y/N) squeezed the water out of the rag and set it aside to dry, finally looking up at the prince. 

"I underestimate no man who's trying to kill me." Harald retorted, turning his irritated stare onto the weapons spread out in front of him. "We'll both be fighting for our lives." 

"No, only you will be." Leif's lips formed a grim line, feet moving slowly as he approached his friend and motioned in the direction of the castle. "He is fighting for his people."

"As am I-"

"What people? Yours or Romanos's?" Leif questioned him sharply, arching his brows and drawing a scowl from Harald. (Y/N) leaned his hip back against the table, his arms folding over his stomach. Harald and his short temper... it was a mystery how the man had lived for so long without getting himself killed.

"I fight today for the same reason I've been fighting for the last seven years! For treasure." It stung, even if (Y/N) had seen it coming, piercing his stomach and sucking him dry of the false hope. "So I can return to Norway and assume the throne of my people, which is rightfully mine. Nothing else." 

"I am glad to hear my brother and I are hardly considered things you fight for, Harald, after we've spent the last seven years fighting and living in a foreign country for you." (Y/N) seethed, and the tension in Harald's shoulders disappeared, his eyes squeezing shut and a silent curse forming on his lips. His chest heaved with a sigh and he stepped past Leif, his arm extending to grab him but (Y/N) smacked it away with a scoff. "I can understand caring little for a bedmate but Leif deserves to be someone you fight for after everything he's done for you." 

"A bedmate- (Y/N), I-" 

"Enjoy your fight, General." (Y/N) shoved past him forcibly and rounded the table before Harald could attempt to stop him. He threw the flaps of the tent apart and stepped out into the sunlight, taking a sharp inhale of the fresh air to calm the fury and hurt dancing along his veins. His fingers wrapped around the handle of his dagger, allowing himself to take a few more steadying breaths. 

He'd made the right decision years prior, he reminded himself. Harald proved it to him time after time. He just needed a reminder every once in a while, even if it hurt.

(Y/N) avoided looking in Harald's direction once he finished preparing for the fight, only focusing on following Emperor Romanos into the castle where they'd set up an area for the fight. He broke away from the Emperor's tight crowd to stand behind the table where Batu placed Harald's other two choices of weapon: a smaller battle axe and a sword, with the larger battle axe being the one he walked into the makeshift arena with. 

"He didn't mean to say it like that," Leif said quietly, always the one forced to make peace between them. (Y/N) pursed his lips and clasped his hands in front of himself, his fingers wrapping tightly around his palm. "I know you called yourself a bedmate to hurt him, (Y/N). You've seen how desperate he's been these past three years; you've seen how he gets when he hears you have a new lover. You are much more to him than that."

"But not enough to desire a different destiny for himself." Leif fell quiet at that, his softened eyes gazing into the side of his brother's face before he sighed softly and looked forward toward the two fighters when they entered the arena and assumed their positions. Despite his lingering hurt, worry jabbed at his stomach for Harald. 

Harald moved first, swinging his axe upward to knock back the Emir's sword, but the Emir moved swiftly, turning on his feet and facing Harald before he could turn around. Harald's jaw ticked and he studied his opponent, switching which hand held the axe before he charged again, grasping the axe with both hands and taking a few swings at him; metal clanging through the air as the Emir swiftly blocked each swing with his sword until Harald turned his axe and slammed the blunt end against his chest, forcing him back a few steps. 

The Emir grunted and grabbed Harald's axe, shoving it back and mimicking his movement as he slammed the handle of his sword repeatedly into Harald's chest which forced Harald to stumble backward and just barely dodge a swing from the sword. The Emir charged, giving Harald hardly any time to dodge another swing but he managed to duck down in time and create some distance between them to reassess his approach. The Emir sneered, baring his teeth and grasping the handle of his sword with both hands. He was a good fighter, as all rulers had to be. 

Harald charged again, slamming the end and top of his axe repeatedly against the Emir's side before slamming the top near his armpit and forcing him back roughly against the stone wall. The Emir released a shout at the impact and shoved the axe away, slashing his sword at Harald and missing his chest plate by an inch or so. Harald swung again, only for his axe to slam into the wall and break in half, leaving him without a weapon. 

With the half still in hand, he managed to defend himself by blocking the Emir's attacks as he sprang and walked backward toward the table. He threw the broken piece at the Emir's head, nearly hitting his ear, and swiftly turned on his heel to snatch both weapons from the table. He faced the Emir once more, eyes narrowing when the Emir approached his own table and took two new swords into his hands. They stared at each other for a brief moment, catching their breaths. 

The Emir charged first with a cry - perhaps growing emboldened with the trickle of blood seeping from Harald's brow - and swung both his swords at him relentlessly, turning and swinging as he followed Harald's quick dodges. Harald nearly sank his axe into the Emir's face in a quick turn but the Emir dodged it in time. They continued back and forth, swinging and dodging hits from each other with grunts and cries. They moved viciously and relentlessly, switching between fighting offensively and defensively within seconds as they grew more enraged and desperate for a win. 

Harald managed to swipe at the Emir's feet and knock him onto the gravelly ground, the Emir's foot rising up quickly to slam into Harald's knee and knock him down into a kneeling position. The Emir moved onto his knees as well, the blows they swung at each other forcing them to remain kneeling until the Emir launched himself forward and Harald threw himself backward, both men rolling along the floor. Harald moved onto his side and attempted to stab the Emir in the side with his sword but the Emir slashed right through the blade, leaving him with a sword resembling a knife. 

The two men scrambled upright and assessed each other again, sucking in large gulps of air and staring each other down. Harald switched the way he held his broken sword and the swing-block dance resumed until Harald swung at the Emir's and was cut just above the elbow. He released a cry of pain and sound around, wincing as he touched his bleeding arm before looking up at his opponent. The Emir stared at Harald, his breathing turning wheezy and his feet staggering. (Y/N) caught the gleam of the broken sword jammed right below the Emir's armpit. 

The Emir raised his arm and stumbled forward again, a look of distraught passing over his features as he fell to his knees and slumped forward. While Emperor Romanos's men erupted into cheers of victory, (Y/N) couldn't help but look in the direction of the Emir's wife, watching the tears stream helplessly down her face. Her husband had fought bravely, not just for his people but for her and their children. (Y/N) bit the inside of his cheek. 

His father had fought and killed countless of men, simply because he could and felt like it, but at least in Greenland, when you killed a man it was because it was necessary. For food, shelter, to defend your family. But in Constantinople, they took lives to make an emperor richer. They killed for treasure they hardly used, and for little else.

(Y/N) grimaced. He missed home.

[borathae]

Constellations

"Even after all these centuries of living, they can experience something new with each other."

Pairing: Taehyung x Jungkook

Genre: Comfort Smut, Slice of Life Romance, Falling in Love!AU

Warnings: they're normally vampires but 'cause of magic they currently aren't, just read the mainstory to understand tbh lmao, a romantic date by a bonfire, romantic conversations & daydreams, soft Dom!Taehyung, sub!Jungkook, Tae is the biggest service Dom ever, Koo is so sensitive hihi, body worship, so many words of adoration, gentle touches, lots of sighs and whispers <3, frotting, lots of kissing, a gentle rim massage, cumming together, cuddles & snuggles, this is so romantic :(

Wordcount: 9.7k

a/n: i genuinely love this universe so much holy fuck :( also, big shoutout to @ahyeonah for helping with the French translations hehe thank you queen 💜 and another sidenote, italic in this chapter indicates that they're talking in Korean

《 Bonus Smut to this 》

Taehyung finally comes back after having excused himself to go outside. Jungkook looks at him over the edge of his book, closing said book a moment later. He uses his thumb as a bookmark. He had been able to watch the older man scurry around the kitchen and hurry outside multiple times.

“You’re back”, Jungkook says, “where were you? ___’s grandparents already went to bed. Also, you missed one round of Uno.”

“That is alright. It is a terrible game, way too complicated. I always lose. Horrible”, Taehyung says dismissively and gives the dark haired man an excited grin, “I prepared something outside. Do you perhaps want to see?” 

“Is that why you kept going to the kitchen?”

“Perhaps.”

“Sure, I want to see”, Jungkook says and stands up from the couch to follow Taehyung outside. He used a pen as a bookmark, abandoning the book on the coffee table.

“May I? It is quite chilly outside and I wouldn’t want you to freeze”, Taehyung offers a jacket to Jungkook.

“Oh? Yeah okay, thanks”, Jungkook says giddily, smiling to himself when Taehyung helps him put the jacket on. 

The latter ends it with a caress to his upper arms and a kiss to his shoulder. 

“You look so handsome.”

“Thank you, Tae.”

“Come now, I shall show you what I have prepared.”

“I really wanna see”, Jungkook says and together they leave the house. 

Taehyung takes Jungkook’s hand once outside, leading the way. The latter was looking around the garden at first, but flusters when Taehyung intertwines his fingers with him. He glances at him, flustering even more when Taehyung gives him a sweetest smile. 

Taehyung leads him to the shed and then Jungkook can already see what he prepared. A bonfire. With blankets and pillows to get comfortable on. 

“Wow, you built a fire?” he gasps.

“Indeed I did.”

“It’s so cozy here. Wow, look at all the pillows. Wow Tae, you put so much effort into this.” 

“I really did”, he bounces excitedly, “do you like it?” 

“Of course I do.”

“I, I thought that today was such a wonderful day and you made me feel so good and I wanted to end it with something romantic.”

“It’s so romantic and so cozy.”

Taehyung glows upon being complimented, giggling excitedly. He gestures Jungkook to sit and so he does. Taehyung kneels down in front of him, shoving a charcuterie board into his vision.

“So that’s what you were doing.”

“Indeed. It is the only thing I can truly make. I hope you like cheese.”

“I do. It looks really pretty.”

“Thank you. Wine?”

“Sure.”

“I asked Harald for their oldest wine. I hope you enjoy red wine. Cheese must be enjoyed with a good red wine.”

“I like red wine. Thank you, that’s enough for the beginning.”

Taehyung prepares his own glass as well.

“Do you like to drink?”

“Yes, in moderation obviously.”

“Of course. I do not enjoy the taste of most alcohols, however, I quite enjoy the taste of wine.”

“It fits you.”

“It does?”

“Yeah. Wine’s elegant.”

“You believe me to be elegant?” Taehyung gasps.

“Yeah.”

“Oh”, he blushes, “thank you.”

“You’re cute”, Jungkook says and lifts his glass, “cheers.”

Taehyung clings glasses with him.

“To this relationship.”

Jungkook smiles, “yeah, to this relationship.”

They each take a sip, enjoying the full taste of it on their tongue.

“It is very good. The grape truly fills the taste and it leaves the tongue with an almost floral sweetness. Do you enjoy it as well?” 

“Yeah, it’s good”, Jungkook scoffs, “you talk so fancy sometimes. It’s not bad, but I can’t talk like this about wine.”

“Oh worry not, the way you talk is perfect. I am aware that I talk, well, that I talk rather strangely sometimes. I learned English during a time where such speech was common and I never really rid myself of it.”

“I like it. At first I thought that you were obnoxious and it annoyed me, but I like it these days. You would sound really weird if you talked differently all of a sudden.”

“I can talk in more modern ways. Oh heavens, I attempted to talk without the accent but failed miserably. I can talk modernly? Is that how the young people would say it?”

Jungkook laughs, “just stick to your ways, you old sock.”

Taehyung chuckles, lowering his eyes shyly.

“What other languages can you speak?” Jungkook asks.

“Oh heavens, far too many. English of course, French as well as German. I can also read Latin and Greek and know the lost language of Nilrem.”

“How do you know this language? I never heard of it before and I know that nobody really does in the common world.”

“I have many friends who are witches, but there were also times when Namjoon was…well, he was kind in his ways. Jimin and I lived side by side with him without having to fear for our safety and during such times, we liked to exchange knowledge. He taught us the language. He called it the original language of magic, but never told us that he was present when it was still used.”

“I see. Damn, I didn’t think that he would do such a thing.”

“I must admit that thinking back, such times feel very unbelievable in comparison to all the agony he allowed to happen to us.”

“I’m sorry, Taehyung. You didn’t deserve any of it.”

“Thank you, but may we talk about something else please? I do not want to spoil this night.”

“Of course. So you can speak six languages?”

“Oh heavens, no. I can also speak Spanish and Italian and spent quite some time in Portugal as well, although my Portuguese is a little rusty these days”, he confesses in a chuckle, “my mother language however is Korean, I still think in it sometimes.”

“Oh Korean? Of course it’s your mother tongue. It’s mine as well”, Jungkook says in their native language.

“You speak Korean as well?” Taehyung answers him in it.

“Of course, I do. I grew up speaking it and still talk in it with Hoseok and Seokjin-hyung when we’re alone.” 

“Oh Jungkook-ah, I feel so happy to know that you haven’t forgotten our language.”

“Me too. It’s been so long for you though, I’m surprised that you didn’t forget.”

“I almost did. Jimin reminded me of it when I met him. When we are alone, we only speak in it.”

“I get that. It’s nice to speak in a familiar language. Although I gotta admit that English feels like my second native language these days. I think in it and dream in it.”

“Yes, I agree. For me it is English and French.”

“French? Say something then.”

“Say something?” Taehyung lowers his eyes playfully, leaning closer until his lips brush Jungkook’s ear. 

Jungkook shivers, listening to the unfamiliar words and finding it very hard to concentrate. Taehyung’s voice is deeper when he speaks French, carrying a seductive romance to it.

Taehyung finishes his sweet whispers with a kiss to Jungkook’s jawline, straightening up.

“What did you say? All I understood was mon chèri.”

“Your company is brighter than any fire and your kiss tastes sweeter than any wine, my darling.”

Jungkook nudges Taehyung’s chest.

“Shut up, oh my god.”

“No, or how I would say it in French, no.”

Jungkook laughs, Taehyung laughs with him.

“You’re funny.”

“Thank you”, Taehyung says and takes a slice of cheese to eat it deliciously, “mhm, you must try the cheese. It melts on your tongue.”

Jungkook follows his lead, eating it with a frown.

“Mhm, it’s good.”

“Isn’t it? Oh Kook, I appreciate a good charcuterie board a lot. There is such romance in it. To prepare food for your loved ones, to present it artfully. There is no greater show of appreciation in my eyes.”

Jungkook smiles shyly, “you think so?”

“I do, yes. You told me that this is your first experience with queer relationships.”

“Yeah, you and Yoongi. Although, you’re definitely romancing me harder. No hate to Yoongi, he is very sweet when we’re alone and I feel really loved by him, but you are definitely romancing me harder.”

“Well, I want to make the first experience special for you. Which is why I prepared all of this. I want to make it special, I really do.”

“Tae, god”, Jungkook says, sagging his shoulders in fond defeat.

Taehyung takes Jungkook’s pointer finger shyly, “do you…uhm, is it how you wished your first queer relationship to go?” 

“I honestly didn’t really think about it a lot, but it’s definitely really nice. You’re so sweet and romantic, I like it.”

Taehyung relaxes, gazing at him.

“Shall we make rules?”

“Rules? Tae, I told you no control. You’re free with me.”

“I know, I know. It is not about control, I just”, he sighs in defeat, “I regret the way I treated you in the beginning. How I ran off to have blood orgies with Fringella or how I fucked around with strangers. I thought nothing of it as I have always lived my relationships in such ways, but it must have been painful for you.”

“It definitely was, but we already talked about it.”

“Well despite all that, this is your opportunity to voice your rules. ___ and I have rules as well. Do you wish me to stay in our polycule? Do you have any problem with me seeking out one night stands? Do you want me to be purely loyal to you and ___?”

“Oh that. I guess, the way it is right now is good for me. I don’t mind when you have one night stands. They’re definitely not something for me, but I know that you like them.”

“I can stop them if you wish me to.”

Jungkook shakes his head, “don’t change like this, I really don’t mind. One thing though, don’t abandon me during parties without saying anything and if you do want to use it as a sexual hunting ground, warn me beforehand. Also, if you ever make me watch you have sex, don’t let me witness you getting roughed up. It would make me so angry.”

“Angry?”

“I’d just wanna fucking protect you then.”

Taehyung flusters, touching his chest where his heart fluttered. He lets a shy giggle escape, meeting Jungkook’s eyes.

“But”, Taehyung pouts, “you cannot tempt me with a good time. What if I want you to get angry in sheer protectiveness?”

Jungkook laughs, “you don’t wanna see me angry, trust.”

“But I did, it’s the very reason why we are here now.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, “you’re silly.”

“Silly for you, yes.”

“Tae, is the wine working?”

“Forgive me. No, I am just, I am merely…oh heavens, all this talk about you watching me have sex and using a party as our sexual hunting ground affected me.”

“It affected you?”

Taehyung looks at Jungkook’s lips. Jungkook looks at Taehyung’s lips.

“It did?”

They inch closer, craving the others’ kiss.

“It did.”

Taehyung closes his eyes, Jungkook cups his cheek. With a gentle push, Taehyung falls to his back, allowing Jungkook to climb his lap. Taehyung writhes under his weight, finding it hard to breathe normally. Jungkook sits on his thighs right under his crotch. Taehyung begins to crave his weight on it, gazing at Jungkook with blown out pupils.

“You’re so silly, Tae”, Jungkook whispers, straightening up and therefore denying him of his kiss.

“Don’t tease me, please.”

Jungkook chuckles, caressing his chest.

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

Jungkook smiles, but says nothing else. Instead, he looks to the side and picks up a piece of cheese to snack on. He bites it off in the middle, guiding the other half to Taehyung’s lips.

The latter opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue, trying his hardest not to whimper when Jungkook places the cheese on it. 

Their connected gazes never break as they chew the cheese, only once Jungkook studies the charcuterie board again does it finally break.

“Everything looks so good. I don’t know what to try next”, Jungkook says, keeping one hand on Taehyung’s chest and using the other to point at the different cheeses. 

“You should try Brie with grapes.”

“Then I’ll do that”, Jungkook shoves both into his mouth and chews, “mhm!”

He widens his eyes, looking at Taehyung.

“Do you enjoy it?” Taehyung asks breathily. One more second pinned down on this blanket and he might die from heart palpitations. He is so ardently in love with Jungkook that it is difficult to stay calm when he is caging him in. 

“It was savoury at first and then the grape burst and it got juicy and sweet. It tasted really good.”

“Didn’t it? I know how to enjoy cheese.”

Jungkook picks up Brie and a grape to guide it to Taehyung’s mouth.

“Open up.”

Taehyung follows, holding his breath. He never knew that his heart could flutter so incredibly much. 

“Good job”, Jungkook praises softly and feeds Taehyung.

He closes his lips around Jungkook’s fingers, sucking on them for a few seconds before he releases them and chews the cheese. Jungkook seems flustered and mesmerised by the gesture, staring at Taehyung’s lips.

He runs his hands over his chest mindlessly. Each touch leaves goosebumps behind.

“I can’t believe I hated you once”, Jungkook says quietly.

“Did you truly hate me?”

Jungkook feeds both of them a piece of cheese, then continues to talk while Taehyung is still chewing. He also sips on his wine occasionally, feeling the effect more and more. It is warm and makes him feel cozy.

“I hated all of you. Alpha, I mean. We always knew that you also lived in town and that humans never returned from your estate. At least that’s what we thought happened. I don’t think that Yoongi ever allowed humans to die willy-nilly on his grounds.”

Taehyung shakes his head.

“We still thought that all of you were bad vampires and when we heard that you infiltrated the university, we instantly joined as well so we could keep an eye on you.”

“Did you also convince the head mistress in quite magical ways?” Taehyung asks with a mischievous gleam.

“Do you really think someone like me could have managed to get in honestly?”

“Yes.”

Jungkook blinks in confusion. He didn’t expect this answer.

“You are intelligent and a hard worker. You are also a diligent person, who learns very quickly.”

“Oh. Wow, thanks”, Jungkook murmurs, lowering his eyes shyly.

“I mean it.”

“I know, thank you seriously”, Jungkook smiles.

Taehyung gazes, “but I assume that you also used compulsion to make it seem as if you had been students all along.”

“We did, yeah. Seokjin did all of it and he hated it, but we had to do it in order to keep watch. You know”, Jungkook chuckles, “if you asked me, it was so obvious that we weren’t students. The courses we attended made no sense major wise.”

Taehyung laughs, “mine did neither. I simply went with whatever sounded most interesting.”

“Same. That is if I was even present. I had to realise very soon that there were too many people around me.”

“I see. The scents.”

“Exactly.”

“I’m sorry, Jungkook.”

“Don’t. I feel better these days”, he assures him and smiles, “cheese?”

“Yes, please.”

“Any wishes?”

“Perhaps a slice of cheddar with onion chutney?”

“Sounds yummy. There we go, open up.”

Taehyung lets it happen with a dizzy head. What is happening to him? Can a heart truly feel so much for just one person? How do humans survive under such conditions? How do they not scream and screech from the intensity of such emotions? 

Jungkook, oblivious to Taehyung’s overwhelmingly fond gaze, chews on his piece of cheese with his big eyes racing over the dark night. And Taehyung wonders how many times he can call him beautiful before the younger man grows annoyed by it, but then he remembers Yoongi’s words. How there is never too much love, but only the wrong receiver.

“You are beautiful.”

Jungkook looks at Taehyung. His eyes are widened in surprise.

“You are beautiful”, Taehyung repeats it and it feels so good to do.

Jungkook smiles, lowering his head shyly.

“You’re beautiful too, Tae.”

“You are so immensely beautiful.”

“You’re just as beautiful, Tae”, Jungkook says and leans down to kiss his cheek, “you softie.”

He straightens up, smiling at him with soft eyes as his fingers trace his chest mindlessly.

“You are so beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful too.”

Jungkook scrunches his nose and giggles, “I like it when you’re like this.”

Taehyung might truly scream. His heart feels at its limits. It is racing so unbearably much that the word “racing” feels rather unworthy to use. What is faster than racing? Because whatever it is, his heart is currently doing it. Yoongi was right. There is never too much love, just the wrong receiver and Jungkook is the right one. 

“Why did you guys infiltrate the university either way? Were you planning on turning everyone?” Jungkook asks him then, still oblivious to Taehyung’s ever-growing feelings.

“Boredom.” Taehyung has to clear his throat before he can continue. The feelings were just too much. “It is truly as simple as that. We were fed up with our life and we wanted a change. Except for Yoongi, who only joined because he needed to make sure that we wouldn’t cause too much trouble.”

“Poor Yoongi. I bet he hated every second of it.”

“Why do you think that he was such a grumps at all times?”

Jungkook laughs, “you’re mean.”

“I am merely saying.”

“Yeah, yeah whatever. God”, Jungkook sighs and smiles fondly, “to think that the only person who actually got in legally was ___”, he hesitates for a moment, squinting his eyes in suspicion, “unless you guys had something to do with it.”

“Oh goodness, no. We had no knowledge of her existence. She managed to get in all on her own.”

“Wow, she’s so cool.”

“She truly is. You know, she allowed me to read the paper which granted her the scholarship and I must say that it is truly remarkable. She always undermines her intelligence and talents, despite being incredibly gifted.”

“I know, it’s so sad that she does that. She told me about her parents and what they did to her. I think they made her have such little confidence in herself.”

“I know. I truly cannot stand these people for the way they treated her.”

“Me neither. We have to hype her up a lot to show her how awesome she is.”

“Hype her up? What is that?”

“You don’t know what hyping up means?”

Taehyung shakes his head, “is it similar to complimenting someone?”

“I guess? I don’t know, I guess you can compare it to cheering someone on and giving them confidence through nice words.”

“I see, well that is a very positive word then. We shall hype her up even more from now on.”

Jungkook chuckles, “you old sock”, he teases, nudging Taehyung’s chin. 

“Hey! It is not my fault that the youths these days think up so many new words. I can simply not keep up.”

“Okay, okay fine”, Jungkook laughs, “you’re so old. I get it.” 

Taehyung pouts, “you are mocking me.”

“Yeah, I am.”

Taehyung’s pout grows. Jungkook wipes it away with his thumb, gazing at the older man fondly.

“It’s cute. I like how out of date you are.”

“This isn’t as much of a compliment as you think it is”, Taehyung complains, but laughs as he does it. 

Jungkook scrunches his nose, laughing with him. 

“Yeah, I kinda realised how mean that sounded. Sorry.”

“I forgive you”, Taehyung jokes. He feels happy right now. Honestly happy. 

Jungkook picks up a piece of cheese and snacks on it, following it up with some wine. Taehyung props himself up on his elbows and drinks from his own wine glass. 

“Cheese?” Jungkook offers. 

Taehyung opens his mouth and allows him to feed him, gazing at him the entire time. 

“Grape too?”

He nods his head. The fruit tastes sweet, but nothing beats the sweetness of happiness Jungkook allows Taehyung to taste with every smile.  

“Did you date when you were at university?” Jungkook asks.

“Not seriously, I mostly hunted for one night stands and short love affairs.”

“I see. That fits how you were back then.”

“It does. Oh, I was so unlikeable.”

“You really were. I couldn’t stand you at all”, Jungkook snickers, making Taehyung giggle.

“I am grateful that I changed.”

“Me too.”

Taehyung gazes at him, touching his thighs gently.

“I assume that you didn’t date either?”

“Oh hell no”, Jungkook scoffs, “I barely even went to class because all the smells were overwhelming to me.”

“I figured”, Taehyung places his hand on Jungkook’s waist, “I watched you sometimes.”

“You did?” Jungkook gasps.

Taehyung nods his head.

“On the rare occasions when you were present during rugby training, I sat by the oak trees.”

“The really old ones west of the field?”

“Indeed.”

“No way, I never noticed you there.”

“I hid quite well.”

“Wow, you creep”, Jungkook is laughing, “and you watched me?”

“Well, I watched the other men as well, but whenever you were present, my eyes only lingered on you. I truly wanted to have you.”

“Tae, oh my god”, Jungkook flusters, “why did you never approach me?”

“I truly wanted to. So one day, I followed you. I had my mind set on approaching you, but then I watched you get into Hoseok’s Beetle and everything fell into place. That the reason you were rarely present was because you were Jeon Jungkook, the young Ripper who is friends with the other two Younglings. Oh, my heart was shattered on this day because I believed you to be human until this point.”

“Oh god, I’m sorry”, Jungkook snickers, “you can be glad that you found out before talking to me though because I knew exactly who you were and with how out of control I was back then, I would have jumped at you.”

Taehyung laughs.

“Then I can be truly glad that I never approached you.”

“Yeah”, Jungkook agrees playfully.

They share a moment where their eyes get lost in the other’s and only the crackling of the fire can be heard. Taehyung, who has been feeling overwhelmingly in love with Jungkook, flusters first, averting his eyes to the sky.

“You can see so many stars here.”

“Mhm?”

“The stars are endless here.”

Jungkook gets off Taehyung’s lap, lying down next to him. He lets his eyes travel over the vast sky and the countless stars flickering far away.

“You’re right. They’re endless. Do you know your zodiac?”

“Pig.”

“That’s cool. Do you know your Western one too?”

“Oh? Forgive me. I am a Capricorn. Why?”

“Well you see, I’m actually a really big nerd for astronomy. This over here is my zodiac. Virgo.” 

He shows him the sign in the stars, tracing its shape with his finger.

“Truly?”

“Yeah and over there is yours”, Jungkook says, tracing Capricorn into the sky. “It’s the smallest constellation of the zodiac, but I think it’s really pretty. Its brightest star is called Deneb Algebi with a magnitude of two point nine.”

“Magnitude?”

“It’s basically how bright a star shines.”

“I see. And the brightest star in my zodiac shines with two point nine magnitude?”

“Exactly. Capricorn is also the zodiac with the softest shining stars. Deneb Algebi is Arabic and means tail of the ram. It’s this one here.”

“I see”, Taehyung speaks softly.

“It’s a very pretty star. I know a lot about stars, I really do.”

“I never knew that this is my zodiac”, Taehyung whispers, gazing at the stars with sudden awe. For the longest time, the stars meant hell to Taehyung. To die and yet continue to burn. To never find peace and rest. He felt like this for a very long time. He died and yet continued to live in hell with peace so very far away.

“Yeah, it’s pretty cool isn’t it? Over there is ___’s zodiac and I don’t know Yoongi’s so I can’t tell”, Jungkook explains, painting shapes in the sky Taehyung had never noticed before, but which are so overwhelmingly obvious to him now that Jungkook shows them to him. The stars have meaning, they create art. They glow and burn and with it, they create pictures for all living beings to gaze upon. The stars aren’t hell. They are art.

“They are beautiful”, Taehyung whispers shakily, holding back his tears.

“Right? I think so too. I always loved the stars. They brought me great comfort when I was still alone.”

The parallels steal Taehyung’s air. To think that there was a time where he and Jungkook looked at the stars at the same time and while Jungkook found comfort in them, Taehyung found sadness in them. The same view and yet it was received with such different hearts.

He looks at Jungkook. His dark eyes reflect the galaxies, his cheeks are glowing. He looks so happy, so utterly content. His life was filled with such tragedy and sadness and he still carries honest happiness. Taehyung admires this about him as much as he envies it. More than anything however, he is happy for him. And so utterly in love.

Such different hearts and still, they somehow managed to find each other.

Taehyung swears to finally show Jungkook his atelier and then take him to his secret library. Jungkook has never been in these rooms before. Time spent together was simply too short, life only recently calmed down. There was no chance for Taehyung to show Jungkook his rooms, but if he knew how much the younger man loved the stars, he would have shown him sooner. 

“I painted the stars once”, he tells him.

“You did?” 

“I did. I must show you once we are home. I still have the painting in my atelier.”

“Yes, I’d really like that”, Jungkook says, oblivious to what waits for him, “I think your art is really good. I bet your stars are so pretty.”

“If everything was different back then, do you believe that we could have fallen for each other?” Taehyung asks him quietly.

Jungkook looks at him. He didn’t expect this topic change. Taehyung’s eyes are glassy and filled with love.

“What do you mean?” Jungkook whispers.

“If we were normal and human back then, do you believe that we could have fallen for each other?”

“I don’t know. I think you would have been a total art nerd and I’d have been a stupid jock. Maybe we never even would have met.”

“No, I believe that we would have. I truly cannot see you as a mindless jock. You speak of constellations and the beauty of stars. You paint and draw and you enjoy music. Your heart is too gentle and filled with too much art for you to have been a mindless jock.”

“So I would have been an art nerd too?” Jungkook jokes to which Taehyung chuckles.

“Perhaps. Or perhaps you would have studied astronomy.”

“Thank you, you’re really sweet. You really are”, Jungkook whispers, looking at the sky with flushed cheeks, “would we have met as humans? I seriously can’t tell, but I hope that we would have.”

“Yes, me too.”

“I still think that I’d have been a total sports nerd. I really like sports.”

Taehyung laughs, “well then, you would have been a sports nerd and I would have been an arts nerd.”

Jungkook chuckles, “that sounds like us.”

“Perhaps one night it would have happened that it would have just been you and I left at school and as we ran into each other, I would have been scared that you would hit me. Because all sports majors would have been straight, homophobic jocks and I would have been scared that you would use this opportunity to beat me up.”

“Tae, what are you doing?”

“Hear me out.”

“Okay?”

“And you would have been cold at first, because you would have caught me staring at you during training once, but then I would have accidentally dropped my books and began picking them up so clumsily that you would have felt pity for me and so you helped me and, and our hands brushed and after we both stood up, you wouldn’t have been able to control yourself anymore and so you would have grabbed me and kissed me and then took me in an empty classroom until I would have been shaped just for you.”

Jungkook shifts, gulping heavily. His heart is racing like crazy. Taehyung’s little fantasy is affecting him.

“It would have felt so forbidden because up until this point, you didn’t want to admit that you were bisexual and so you would have taken out your frustration on me until I clutched your shoulders and wailed into your neck because you would have brought me to my limits and yet my body still would have craved for more of you.”

“Stop talking, oh my god.”

“Why? Do you not like it?”

“I do.  A little too much.”

“Too much?” Taehyung glances at Jungkook’s crotch.

The latter notices, covering himself.

“Tae please, I don’t wanna take advantage of you, don’t make it so hard to resist.”

“It is not taking advantage when I wish the same thing.”

Jungkook swallows heavily. Taehyung rolls to his side and begins touching his hip. Jungkook chases the touch, breathing speeding up.

“Do you wish to know what would have happened after this night?” Taehyung asks with big puppy eyes.

“Maybe.”

“You would have driven me home and taken care of me and afterwards we would have sat on the sofa and talked with some cheese and wine. I would have realised that you are the sweetest man I had ever met and you would have grown fond for me. So fond in fact that you wouldn’t have been able to keep your hands to yourself from this day forward. But you would have done it secretly because you wouldn’t have been ready to come out yet. So we would have fucked in private, on the backseat of your car, after classes, the empty locker rooms, the abandoned atelier rooms.”

“Holy fuck, Tae. It’s so hot to think that we’d have been a secret.”

“It is. I am very affected by this.”

“Me too.”

“Did you ever fuck a man when you were human?” 

“No, I always wondered what that would feel like.” 

“I never fucked a man as a human either.”

Tension fills the silence. The day they shared was so wonderful and bonding, the night by the fire is warm and so excitingly private. Their hearts couldn’t be more intertwined with each other as they are today, the tension might finally be too much to bear. 

“We’re human right now”, Jungkook whispers. 

“I know”, Taehyung whimpers, grasping his hip.

“Do you…”

Taehyung nods his head vigorously. Jungkook props himself up on his elbows so he could rest himself over Taehyung. Taehyung lies back down as he does it, grasping his buttocks unapologetically. Jungkook lets him, eyes racing between Taehyung’s.

“We could share this first tonight”, he whispers.

“Kook”, Tae moans, chasing his kiss, “are you certain? Do you really want me?”

“I do. So much. Do you want me too?”

“Yes, yes please I do”, Taehyung begs and hooks his arms behind Jungkook’s head to pull him into a kiss.

Jungkook moans shakily, finding it difficult to match Taehyung’s rhythm. Not because the older man is sloppy, no, because Jungkook is so utterly overwhelmed by the feeling of getting to kiss him. 

He wasn’t aware of how deeply affected he already felt, but it is finally getting so clear to him that he finds it difficult to breathe. Not that humans can really breathe when their faces are melted together for a kiss. Both men soon have to find out as their lungs ache for air. They break the kiss at the same time, panting for air while their lips still try to taste the other. They keep their eyes closed. 

Jungkook is the one to go back in first, cupping Taehyung’s cheek while the other runs his fingers over his scalp. The kiss is already more heated than before. The tension is too big for it not to. Taehyung opens his mouth, asking for Jungkook’s tongue. 

The latter breaks the kiss to breathe, speaking against his lips in an affected rasp.

“Did you ever kiss a man as a human before?” 

“Not like this, please kiss me again please”, Taehyung begs, twisting his hair gently.

“I wasn’t kissed either”, Jungkook sighs, giving into the electric pull. Their tongues finally tangle, the kiss becomes even more intense. They taste the wine on each other’s tongue as much as they taste the growing hunger for more. 

Hands soon begin roaming the valleys and hills of the other’s body, breaks for air are short but countless, moans soon begin to fill the silence. Their jackets come off as well, laid abandoned by the fire as they have each other to keep warm now. The touches begin to truly overwhelm them now that such little clothing was between them and their skins. They start panting and mewling into the kiss, matching each other’s neediness as much as they try to out-mewl it. The day has been long already and the two men are finally at their breaking point. All they exist for right now is each other. In both an emotional sense as much as in a sinfully carnal sense.

The next time the kiss breaks, they know that they won’t be able to kiss anymore. At least not before having taken the next step.

“I want more”, Taehyung gets out breathlessly, feeling up Jungkook’s waist.

“Me too”, Jungkook confesses, rubbing Taehyung’s chest.

“We don’t have lube a-and I didn’t warm up or clean out”, Taehyung stutters. 

“I know, me neither”, Jungkook answers him out of breath. 

“We are human. It won’t work how it does in the real world.”

“I know.”

The realisation that they won’t be able to connect as deeply as they could, aches for both of them, but the desire to be with each other is too big to let it soil the mood. 

Jungkook sits up and takes off his shirt, throwing it to the side. Taehyung looks at him with a dizzy head. Even as a human, Jungkook is so perfectly muscular. Jungkook climbs onto Taehyung’s lap. Taehyung sits up to touch his chest. He outlines it with his fingertips, following his touch with his eyes. His skin is golden because he is human, the fire makes it glow amber. 

“Your skin has the colours of sundowns right now”, Taehyung whispers, meeting Jungkook’s mesmerised eyes. 

Taehyung traces his abs and the paths of his pecs, faltering when he reaches his nipples. Jungkook gives him silent consent with an arch of his back. He touches them. Jungkook moans, parting his lips and writhing on his lap. 

“Your torso is a landscape I want to wander in for hours.”

Jungkook smiles softly, sighing in blissful pleasure. Taehyung’s gentle touch and his poetic words truly work on someone as hopelessly romantic as Jungkook. 

Taehyung looks at his lover’s chest again because he felt his nipples harden under his touch. He exhales shakily. They are so dainty and perfect, standing against his amber skin in darker colour. Goosebumps cover the skin of his chest. 

“Are you cold?” 

“It feels so good.”

Taehyung’s heart flutters. Overtaken by adoration, he slides his hands to Jungkook’s side and pulls him closer this way, lowering his lips to his right nipple so he could lick and kiss it. Jungkook gasps for air, squeezing his legs together as best as Taehyung’s lap allows him to. Taehyung’s mouth is so warm around his nipple, in comparison to the chilly night air it truly steals his breath. 

The intensity of the sensation grows when Taehyung releases his right nipple to worship his left instead and his once licked nipple is left in the cold air. Jungkook misses the warmth of his mouth, as much as he enjoys it on his other side. He closes his eyes, shivering immensely. 

Taehyung feels the shivers as well, lifting his head to check up on him. Jungkook opens his eyes slowly. Even with the orange shine of the fire, Taehyung can see the pink flush of his cheeks. 

“It is too rare that we get our nipples worshipped, isn’t it?” he whispers, massaging them with his thumbs slowly, “it is always a woman’s delight, but rarely that of a man.”

Jungkook agrees with a shy sigh. Taehyung’s touch feels so good that he can barely think of what to answer him. 

“I want to pay attention to the parts which get overlooked. I may not have slept with a man as a human, but I had countless male lovers as a vampire. I am a man as well, I know the male body blindly, yet…” he meets Jungkook’s eyes again, “…I didn’t get the honour of learning yours yet.”

“Tae”, Jungkook gets out, having to gasp repeatedly. He was never promised to be treated like this before. So fully freed of gender roles, so entirely like a human. 

“Can I learn you?”

“Yes.”

Taehyung smiles, heart skipping a beat.

“Show me where to touch you. I want to learn each path to take.”

“Oh god, Tae”, Jungkook lets out, feeling really giddy right now. His head is getting foggy. Taehyung managed to switch the roles with just his poetic words. They truly are witchcraft to Jungkook’s romantic heart. 

“I shall listen”, Taehyung promises, lowering his lips to Jungkook’s right collarbone, “mon chèri. Mon beau chèri.” 

Jungkook sighs, touching his arms for support. He can’t tell where he likes it most because his skin is currently so sensitive that every spot feels incredible. Or perhaps it is because no one really adored his collarbones before and Jungkook can’t handle attention to them. 

“You have such beautiful collarbones, mon chèri. So delicate”, Taehyung whispers, tracing them with parted lips. 

“Tae”, Jungkook whines, writhing away. 

Taehyung looks at him, “does this spot not please you?”

“It does, it’s just a lot.”

“In uncomfortable ways?”

Jungkook shakes his head, “good ways. It feels so good. So good.” 

Taehyung smiles softly, lowering himself again, “what about this spot?” 

His lips begin their adoring dance along Jungkook’s shoulders. From his left, along his collarbones and neck, to his right. He falters for a moment, looking at what felt so different against his lips. A scar. 

“Is this where your arm ripped off?” he asks him, tracing it gently.

“Yeah. It’s uhm, it’s silver in the real world. I, I don’t know why”, Jungkook stutters, tingling like crazy from the kisses Taehyung leaves on his scar. 

“It is magical. A reminder what the curse couldn’t repair. Jimin has the same scar on his chest and back from where Namjoon ripped his heart out.”

“That makes….sense…aahm…” Jungkook sighs, falling into warm bliss.

Taehyung is getting lost in kissing him again, taking on his way back and repeating his journey. Over and over until Jungkook is arching his back and sighing Taehyung’s name. 

“Is this good for you?”

“Yes, so good…”

“And this?”

Taehyung guides his kisses down Jungkook’s right arm, showing his lips their way with his fingers. And Jungkook is gasping. He was never kissed along his arm before. He was touched, groped, held but never kissed. Never adored. Never worshipped. His body feels weakened, he can’t stop Taehyung from turning his arm so his inner wrist was bared to him because of how foggy he makes him feel.

Taehyung lingers on it, kissing and licking it slowly. Jungkook squirms, letting out a squeak followed by a nervous laugh. Taehyung slows down, gazing up at him in question.

“Tickles.”

“Mhm, mon chèri”, Taehyung sighs and turns Jungkook’s arm again to kiss each of his fingers and knuckles. 

Jungkook closes his fingers around Taehyung’s hand. Once again, this never happened to him before. He doesn’t know what to do, how to handle all of this. All he knows is that he is starting to feel vulnerable in familiar ways. He only gets like this when someone is helping him fall into subspace. Jungkook isn’t scared of the implications, enjoying the fall with a racing heart.

Taehyung lifts his head only to lower it again to Jungkook’s left arm. No inch should be left unkissed. He is so immensely in love with Jungkook’s body. There aren’t many people who ever made Taehyung say this. He always appreciated a beautiful body, but whenever he did, it was based on desire. Not with Jungkook. There is no desire motivating him, only love. And the hope that Jungkook will feel the appreciation he deserves to feel. 

He lifts his head once each knuckle was kissed. Jungkook is clutching his hand so tightly, breathing heavily with his cheeks flushed.

“Did this feel good?”

“So good”, Jungkook gets out, “Tae I-”

“Yes?”

“I’m sensitive there.” Jungkook guides his fingers to his lower stomach on the part just above his hip bones. “There.”

Taehyung exhales shakily. He is starting to relax and feel comfortable in showing his spots. This is exactly what he wanted to happen. He wanted to allow Jungkook to fall into a comfortable headspace, to let go of societal expectations and simply enjoy being loved. 

“Yes? Do you wish for me to kiss it?” 

“Yes, please.”

“May I fix you?” 

“Yeah.”

Taehyung picks him up to lie him down on his back, sitting down on his lap. Jungkook’s head rests on a pillow, his hair is messy this way. His chest heaves up and down quickly, his eyes are foggy in submission.

“Are you comfortable?” Taehyung makes sure, fluffing up the pillow before combing his fingers through his hair.

“Yeah”, Jungkook whispers, feeling small and vulnerable. 

“That is good to hear. Relax, mon chèri, relax”, Taehyung whispers and lowers his lips to the spot Jungkook showed him before.

Jungkook moans his name loudly, grabbing his hair and arching his back. His legs tremble, his toes curl. He expected anything but for this to feel so good. The intensity is as if Taehyung sunk him deep into his mouth, as if his most pleasurable spots were being stimulated. Jungkook has to gasp just as much, dropping on the blanket only so he could arch his back again. And again. And again. 

Taehyung feels out of breath as well. This is the moan of a man who is finally loved right. This is the moan of a man who is treated as a person. This is the moan of a man who has discovered his favourite spot. Taehyung feels patches of wet excitement soak his briefs. Jungkook turns him on so much. His kisses however are still placed with love not desire.

Jungkook soon pulls him away, writhing on the blanket.

“Stop please. Stop.”

“Are you still comfortable?” Taehyung asks him softly, holding still for now.

“It’s, it’s a lot. I, I was never- this is the first time I’m kissed there.”

“I figured. It can be very overwhelming to be touched on a sensitive spot. You did very well for your first time”, Taehyung praises, “may I reward you with kisses to your stomach?”

“Yes, please oh god”, Jungkook allows him, parting his legs. He wishes for his pants to magically disappear and for Taehyung to take him in whole. 

But Taehyung isn’t ready yet. Well, he is, but he merely doesn’t want to yet. He wants to show Jungkook that it is also possible for men to feel breathless in desperation. That it is also possible to be truly turned on. Getting hard is easy for a man, it doesn’t take much and because it is, his pleasure is so often overlooked. Taehyung wants to show Jungkook how much it is possible to get aroused as a man. That a hardened cock is not the highest form of desperation a man can experience. 

He dances his hands up and down, left and right on Jungkook’s stomach, guiding his fingertips along his paths and following it up with his lips and tongue. Jungkook’s stomach is so perfectly sculpted and such hard work needs to be adored and worshipped.

“You are beautiful. So beautiful.” 

Jungkook has to writhe again. He needs to stop him. It feels too good. 

“Stop, please.”

Taehyung soothes the shivers by kissing a path up to his neck to worship it instead. Jungkook whines, rolling his head to the side as far as possible to make sure that Taehyung gets every inch. 

“I can feel your heart race”, Taehyung whispers to which Jungkook merely keens and writhes. Taehyung kisses up and down along his jugular, taking in the sensation of his pulse. “It is so wonderful to feel how it affects you. You are so beautiful, everything about you.”

“Tae”, Jungkook has to stop him again. Everything is just too much. He pushes at his arms, arching his back.

“Do you still feel comfortable?” Taehyung asks him, soothing him by combing his fingers through his hair.

“Fuck me please. I, I can’t do much more.”

Taehyung smiles, “yes, you can. Relax, mon bel amour. Just relax.”

Jungkook melts into the blanket, fluttering his lashes. His eyes are so hazy, his cheeks so red. He has enough general knowledge about languages to understand Taehyung’s nicknames for him and they are weakening him. He is his beautiful love. 

“That’s it, relax mon amour”, Taehyung whispers and lowers his lips back to Jungkook’s neck. He kisses him with love and gentleness, leaving no inch untouched until he magically happens to be back at the spot above his hip bone. 

Jungkook shakes instantly, moaning so freely that Taehyung has to moan with him. This must feel like heaven to him. Such moans are normally only leaving him when he is pleasured in more obvious spots. Taehyung pays even better attention to it, wanting him to feel heavenly for as long as possible.

It feels like heaven to Jungkook. It does. Perhaps it feels even better than heaven. Taehyung’s big hands are on each side of his waist, warming him and making him feel so utterly cocooned in safety. Taehyung’s body touches the inside of his legs each time Jungkook tries to close them. They remind him how easy it is these days to give in to Taehyung. But what truly ruins him are his lips. He always knew this spot was sensitive, but it is insane how intense it actually is.

“Take them off please”, Jungkook begs with no control over his own words. 

“Your pants?”

“Yes, please”, Jungkook mewls, lifting his hips eagerly.

Taehyung doesn’t waste any time. He takes off his pants and boxers, placing them aside carefully. Jungkook’s length stands throbbing instantly, begging for attention. Taehyung gazes at it. It is smaller than in the real world and Taehyung wants to taste every inch of him. His tip is glistening in the fiery lights, his veins cast shadows. 

“You are beautiful.”

Jungkook rolls his hips up, begging for his touch.

“You are truly so beautiful. Every inch of you.”

“Hyung, please.”

Taehyung glances at him. His cock throbbed in his pants at the sound of this beg. Jungkook knew what he was doing, using their native tongue for it. He is actually desperate enough to forget every language but that of his childhood. 

“You are so beautiful”, Taehyung whispers and lowers his lips to Jungkook’s foot. He already got him to a point of utter desperation, but he doesn’t want to rush it. It would be unfair to his lower body not to be adored. Taehyung loves every inch of him and he needs to show it. He kisses each toe, each instep, each ankle and sole before he finally moves up to his shin and calves.

“Mon bel amour, oh how I cherish you”, he whispers.

Jungkook whimpers, twisting the blanket. He doesn’t know how much more he can handle. He was turned on before, but not like this. He can’t even think straight anymore, nor properly breathe. He wants it to be faster and yet last forever. Jungkook doesn’t know what to do now that he is so properly turned on. 

Taehyung moves on to his thighs, starting on the outside and working his way to the inside. One by one. Jungkook sobs his name with the first kiss upon his inner thigh, ripping his legs open so widely one could worry he might pull a muscle. 

“Is this a wonderful spot for you?” Taehyung asks, tracing it with his tongue and fingers.

“Yes”, Jungkook coughs out, fucking the air, “please.”

“My beautiful chèri, oh mon beau.”

“Please, oh god please. Please”, Jungkook gasps out.

More kisses to his thighs lets him know that he won’t be released. His hand acts against his will. He grasps his own length, jerking it quickly.

The loud whimper he releases because of it, makes Taehyung look up. 

“Hey”, he gasps, stopping him instantly. It is embarrassingly easy to drag his hand away. “What are you doing?”

“I, I need to be touched. I can’t do this anymore.” 

“But, you’re a good boy. You don’t do such things “

Jungkook shudders, “I’m sorry”, he cries, “I’m sorry, Sir.”

Taehyung melts. His heart races. He helped Jungkook into subspace. It was already known to him, but has it finally confirmed. With just his touch and romantic words, he helped him shed any kind of shame. Jungkook is so honestly him right now. 

“Don’t apologise, you are still my good boy. My goodest boy”, Taehyung praises him and sits back, “now make me proud and hold still.”

Jungkook nods his head vigorously, humming an enthusiastic yes. 

Taehyung undresses hastily at first, but falters once it comes to his briefs. He glances at Jungkook. Something in his eyes makes Jungkook want to sit up and hold his waist for support. He does so with a dizzy head.

“You’re beautiful”, he whispers, painting adoration onto Taehyung’s features.

“So you noticed my hesitation.”

“I did. Is everything still okay with you?”

“More than alright. I am simply just silly.”

“Silly? Why?”

“Please don’t laugh at me.”

“Why should I laugh at you?”

“I am not big. I, I am only that big because of the vampirism.”

“That’s okay. I’m only human too.”

“You are beautiful as a human.”

Jungkook smiles, “I’m sure you are really beautiful too.”

Taehyung blushes. He finally feels confident again. He takes off his briefs, looking at his own cock instantly. Jungkook moans, gazing at him. 

“What if I try? Maybe I can do it”, he argues because everything inside him begs to have Taehyung fill him. His cock is just as hard as his own, glistening in the shine of the fire. Its size is so human, so manageable. Jungkook craves the weight of it inside. 

“I don’t want to hurt you. Human bodies are so stiff and fragile”, Taehyung says even if he craves the warmth of Jungkook. 

“I’ll try to relax.”

“And we’ll use what as lube?”

“I don’t know, spit or precum.”

“Don’t be silly. Human bodies aren’t made to function with such weak lubricants.”

“But I want you”, Jungkook gets out shakily.

“I want you too, but I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

“It’s not taking advantage when I want it.”

Their eyes meet. He is repeating Taehyung’s own words back at him. They share laughter. 

“Oh Jungkook-ah, you mean so much to me”, Taehyung lets out, falling around his neck.

“Hyung”, Jungkook whimpers, sinking into his embrace. 

“Lie down with me, please.”

They lie down, heads sinking into the pillows and limps tangling. They are both on their sides, facing each other. Well, they are falling into a kiss. A deep, passionate kiss. Taehyung keeps his arms hooked behind Jungkook’s head, while Jungkook’s right hand grabs Taehyung’s hip to pull him closer. He throws his leg over his waist, grinding his hips into him just to make it feel a little like penetration. At least the movement is the same even if the warm stretch is missing. 

The kiss breaks messily. Jungkook moans heavily, Taehyung answers him with parted lips. He drags his shaky hand out of Jungkook’s thick hair, guiding his fingers to Jungkook’s lips. The latter takes them in without hesitation, sucking and licking them as if they were cock. He doesn’t open his eyes for it. Taehyung doesn’t either. They are completely lost in the moment. 

Soon Taehyung pulls out, sticking his fingers between Jungkook’s buttocks to rub his hole.

���Hyung”, the submissive younger moans, faltering in his grinds as his brain short circuits. Taehyung is massaging him, drawing circles and applying enough pressure to make it tingle.

“Does this feel good?” Taehyung asks breathily.

“Yes”, Jungkook whimpers, nodding his head. He grabs Taehyung’s hair, “please”, he breathes out, “please don’t stop.”

“I won’t”, Taehyung finally opens his eyes to gaze. He meets Jungkook’s hazy, drugged out eyes. “I exist to pleasure you, mon chèri.”

“Hyung”, Jungkook convulses, “it feels so good.” 

“It does. You feel so good. So incredibly good.” 

“Why does it feel so good? Oh god”, Jungkook whimpers, shuddering as another wave of electricity courses through him.

“Enjoy it, mon amour. You deserve it”, Taehyung whispers, feeling drugged out. This is the kind of state he wanted Jungkook to be in. Disbelief over how good the pleasure feels. This is what he should experience. His beautiful darling boy. 

Jungkook, overwhelmed in pleasure and with his heart barely wanting to keep up, slides his hand between their bodies to touch himself. His cock ached so much, he needed relief. 

What he hadn’t calculated in was Taehyung’s length being so close to his’ and so it happens that his trembling fingers wrap around Taehyung’s length as well. 

“Yes”, Taehyung, who believes the frotting to be planned, sighs and rolls his hips into the touch, “yes, oh Jungkook, ah.”

“Hyung”, Jungkook whimpers, picking up a rhythm. It might have been a mistake at first, but he doesn’t want to fix it. Their frenulums are grinding together, their shafts are too and their flushed tips are getting messy in shared slick. This is the best mistake he ever made.

He tightens his grip around them, concentrating his touches on their tips because it feels best there. It brings Jungkook terribly close to his orgasm, but he doesn’t want to stop. Being with Taehyung like this feels too good. He doesn’t want to lessen the pleasure for even one second.

“You are heaven. My darling heaven”, Taehyung sighs and rewards Jungkook with a faster rim massage.

Jungkook falters. The touch burns him too deep. He gasps and gasps, arching his back so their stomachs touch even more. Their cocks grind against each other in his shaking hold, the movement makes Jungkook gasp even more. 

“Fuck, you’re beautiful”, Taehyung presses out.

Jungkook peels his eyes open, meeting Taehyung’s adoring gaze. The older smiles, carrying honest love in his eyes.

“You are so beautiful”, he whispers.

This is it. The moment Jungkook realises that he is also in love with him. 

“Please don’t break my heart again”, he begs in a whimper, spilling tears as his body trembles in ecstasy.

Taehyung pulls him closer and wraps his hand around a bundle Jungkook’s hair, sending shivers down his spine. The pressure around their cocks is increased as well this way, the fingers on his hole are filling him up just a little. So close. They are so close this way. Jungkook curls his toes and twists Taehyung’s hair, having to moan because nothing could have prepared him for this moment.

“Your heart is safe with me”, Taehyung whispers in their native tongue.

“Promise me.” 

“I promise. You are my north star, Jeon Jungkook.” 

“Taehyung”, Jungkook chokes out and sobs, “you’re making me cum.”

“Don’t hold back, my north star. I will follow. I promise.”

“Taehyung. I love you”, Jungkook wails, breaking apart as his heart has finally reached its breaking point.

Taehyung spills tears instantly. Jungkook said it. He loves him too. He loves him.

“I love you too”, Taehyung croaks and follows Jungkook with a sob. Jungkook’s hand stops working around their lengths, but they make up for it with desperate rolls of their hips. Their shared mess smears all over their lengths, spilling on their tummies as well. It is so warm. So magical. So right. In this moment, their spilled pleasure has one single purpose. To show their deep connection. 

They are both immensely out of breath after their shared high, hugging each other for comfort. Both their hands are messy, but Jungkook doesn’t care, pulling him closer as his tears don’t seem to stop. He is in love with a man and it feels so right. He finally understands Taehyung. It feels so good to be queer. It is so right. 

Taehyung’s own tears don’t stop, but their reasons are different. He is in love with a man who loves him back. He is in love with a man who won’t hurt him. He is in love with a good man. And it is in such ways where Taehyung won’t have to hold back on his intensity of love because he likes it when he is romantic. Taehyung feels as if something in his life is finally going right.

They don’t get dressed for a while after they calmed down, cuddling under a second blanket as the fire slowly dies down. And as they cuddle, they exchange kisses and smiles and boyish giggles because the night is just too wonderful not to fill it with happiness.

“I love you, I love you, I love you”, Taehyung keeps repeating the words over and over again. In every language he ever learned and Jungkook answers him in giggles and whispers of adoration.

“How are you?” Taehyung asks him, cradling his cheeks as his sparkling eyes race over his face obsessively, “are you feeling alright? Did you enjoy it? Are you happy?”

“I’m so happy, it was so good”, Jungkook answers him, lulling his words because he is so far gone in a giddy, droopy headspace.

“Oh Jungkook, I love you”, Taehyung croaks and hugs him, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

It won’t be last time he chants his most favourite words and Jungkook loves every single repetition.

[thezombieprostitute]

Masterlist

By AU

Biker AU - Fate (Curtis Everett)

Coffee Shop AU - Barista!Steve Rogers

College AU - Tenure (Charles Blackwood, Curtis Everett) - Tutoring (Ari Levinson, Bucky Barnes, Lloyd Hansen)

Corporate AU - Tech Tuesdays (Multiple characters)

Fairy Tale AU - Magic (Jefferson/Mad Hatter)

Flower Shop AU - Flowers in Storms (Lee Bodecker)

Mafia AU - Changing Minds/Constant Change (Nick Fowler) - Dream Come True /Nightmares (Curtis Everett) - Hummingbird /Dragonfly (Steve Rogers) - Sparks Fly/Frayed (Mace)

Maid AU - Cleaning Up (Jonathan Pine)

Omegaverse - Alphas & Algorithms (Curtis Everett) - Beta!Reader (Bucky Barnes, Hal Carter)

Royal AU - Sir Everett (Curtis Everett)

Soulmate AU - All Your Lovin' (Captain Syverson) - Alpine (Bucky Barnes) - Lloyd's Soulmate (Lloyd Hanson) - Sleepy Surprise

Werewolf AU - Prologue (Hal Carter, Jake Jensen) - Werewolf Steve (Steve Rogers)

By Character (characters I've written more than a couple stories for)

Bucky Barnes

Curtis Everett

Hal Carter

Jake Jensen

Lloyd Hansen

Nick Fowler

Steve Rogers

Character Reactions

I need kisses

Tell me I'm pretty

Holiday Stories

Christmas - Baby's First Christmas (Curtis Everett) - Music in the Air (Bucky Barnes) - 'Tis the Season, Sir (Steve Rogers) - Last Christmas (Nick Fowler, Hal Carter)

Halloween - Laughingstock (Dark!Steve Rogers)

Valentine's - Lloyd's Valentine (Dark!Lloyd Hansen)

Miscellaneous

Always the Bridesmaid (Jonathan Pine, Nick Fowler)

Bad Day (James Mace) - Bad Day Alternate (Dark!Ari Levinson)

Bets (Bucky Barnes, Jake Jensen)

Bittersweet (Dark Skinny!Steve)

Cops and Robbers (Lee Bodecker)

Dandelion (Hal Carter)

Done This 100 Times (Mordecai)

Grumpy Days (Multiple characters)

In the Woods (Chris Beck, James Mace)

Missing You (Johnny Storm)

Museum Tours (Steven Grant)

Panic Attack (Walter Marshall)

Pen Pals (God the Bounty Hunter)

Photos (Jake Jensen)

Receiving Affection (Multiple Characters)

Retaliation (Dark!Jake Jensen)

Self-Care Weekend (Bucky Barnes)

Selkie Story (Mace)

Stickers (Bucky Barnes)

Stuck (Ransom Drysdale)

To the Rescue (Kyle "Gaz" Garrick)

Inspired by Others

Alpha to the Rescue (unnamed character)

Andrew's Downfall (dark!Andy Barber, dark!Lloyd Hansen)

Angry Ari (Ari Levinson)

At the Gala (Multiple Characters) - After the Gala (Harald Finehair)

At the Gym (Unnamed SStan character)

Bouquet Event Masterlist (Multiple Characters)

Charity Auction (Multiple Characters)

Detective vs. Mafia (Clark Kent, Steve Rogers, Walter Marshall)

Don't Open the Door (Curtis Everett)

Global Warming (God the Bounty Hunter)

Ice Cream (Hal Carter)

Jealous (Nick Fowler)

Kidnapped (Multiple Characters)

Quiet Night (Bucky Barnes)

Royal Security (Nick Fowler)

Sacrifice (Demon!Lloyd Hansen)

Secret Crush (Lloyd Hansen)

Speed Dating (Jonathan Pine, Lloyd Hansen)

Too Old? (Unnamed Character)

Unexpected Guest (Curtis Everett)

[ivanseledkin]

Bluetooth technology was named after Harald Bluetooth, a Viking king who died over 1,000 years ago. He unified factions of Denmark with those in Norway, similar to how today's technology unifies different electronic devices. The Bluetooth logo combines Nordic runes for his initials - H.B. The origin of his nickname is debated; some sources suggest he loved blueberries, staining his teeth, while others speculate a dead tooth caused a dark blue/grey hue.