#stop trying to make something have substance by filling it with descriptive words

[dinitride-art]

@apatheticlexicographer thank you !!!!!!

Also, what the hell is this article

I heard about the meme mention, but damn. Byler tumblr has shielded me from everything hasn’t it? Highly substitutable? What the hell is that supposed to mean? They’re just saying words, man. Literally went to look up the word ‘substitutable’ because maybe there’s a secret meaning I don’t know about but nope. Just means easily replaced.

Can someone explain ‘possibly closeted (popular fan theory)’ to me? I feel like I’m missing some key information here

[rainandandy]

Hi your writing is amazing!! Could you do rain x reader where reader gets captured by the alien and rain saves them but it was too late :)

Rain Carradine X Fem! Reader

Content Warning: Violence, Character Death, Xenomorph Description

Word Count: 1236

The Romulus Station was supposed to be your beacon of hope, the last stop before you and your family could finally leave Jackson’s Star behind. It was meant to be a new beginning, a place where you could find peace and safety. But that dream had turned into a nightmare, one filled with blood, terror, and the relentless stalking of something that should never have existed.

The station was eerily quiet now, the halls once bustling with life now filled with only echoes of the past. You, Rain, and Andy were the last of your group, desperately trying to make it back to the shuttle before the xenomorph found you. The creature had already killed almost everyone else, including Tyler and Kay, your older siblings. Their lifeless bodies haunted your every step, the memory of their final moments burned into your mind.

Your body was exhausted, weighed down by grief and fear. Each breath felt like a struggle as you ran through the dimly lit corridors, Rain and Andy at your side. The eerie shrieks of the xenomorph echoed through the station, sending chills down your spine. You knew it was hunting you, stalking you through the labyrinth of metal and darkness. The fear of what might be lurking around each corner was almost paralyzing.

“There’s the shuttle!” Rain’s voice was urgent, her grip on her rifle tightening as she pointed to the small vessel at the end of the corridor. Relief washed over you at the sight of it, but it was quickly replaced by a gnawing dread. You were so close, but the danger was still very real.

You were only a few steps from the shuttle when you felt something cold and sharp wrap around your leg. You barely had time to look down before the xenomorph’s barbed tail tightened its grip, pulling you off your feet with terrifying strength. You hit the ground hard, the impact knocking the wind out of you. Panic surged through you as you looked up and saw the creature’s claws wrap around your body, its black, glistening form looming over you with predatory intent.

“No!” Rain screamed, her eyes wide with terror as she raised her rifle, but you knew it was too late. The creature’s grip was too strong, its claws digging into your flesh as it began to drag you away.

“Go!” you shouted, your voice strained with pain. “Get on the shuttle! Stay safe!”

But Rain didn’t move. She stood frozen for a moment, her eyes locked on yours, filled with a mix of fear, desperation, and love. Then, as if making the hardest decision of her life, she nodded. “I’ll come back for you,” she promised, her voice breaking. “I swear I’ll come back.”

The xenomorph’s claws tightened around you, the pain intense as it began to drag you toward the air vents. You could hear the distant sounds of Rain’s footsteps as she ran for the shuttle, but they quickly faded as the creature pulled you deeper into the station, into the darkness.

The vents were cold and damp, the smell of decay thick in the air. The creature dragged you through the narrow passages, and you could see the remains of its previous victims—eggs covered in a strange, sticky substance, and worse, the lifeless body of Tyler, his face twisted in a final expression of fear and pain. The sight made you want to scream, but the creature’s grip on your chest made it impossible to draw enough breath.

The xenomorph finally stopped, its jaws opening wide, revealing rows of sharp, gleaming teeth. You knew this was the end, that there was no escape. You waited for the creature to strike, to deliver the killing blow, your heart pounding in your chest, fear mixing with a strange sense of acceptance.

But then, a shot rang out, the sound deafening in the confined space of the vent. The xenomorph let out an ear-splitting screech as Rain’s bullet tore through its hide, the acidic blood spraying out, burning your skin where it touched. The creature’s grip on you loosened, and you fell to the ground with a painful thud, barely able to move.

Rain crawled into the airshaft, her face pale and determined, her rifle still smoking from the shot. She called out to you, her voice thick with worry. She reached for you, pulling you into her arms as she shot at the creature again, forcing it to retreat.

“Come on, we have to get out of here!” Rain urged, her voice trembling as she helped you to your feet. Every step was agony, your body screaming in protest as she half-carried, half-dragged you back through the vents, toward the shuttle.

By the time you reached the shuttle, you were barely conscious, your vision swimming as the pain and blood loss began to take their toll. Rain pushed you into a seat, her hands shaking as she fumbled to close the shuttle’s doors. The last thing you saw before darkness claimed you was her tear-streaked face, her eyes wide with fear as she turned back to you.

“Hey, stay with me!” Rain pleaded, her voice breaking as she knelt beside you, her hands pressing against the wounds that were bleeding freely. “Please, don’t leave me.”

But you could barely hear her. The pain was too much, the darkness too inviting. You wanted to fight, to stay with her, but your body was failing you. Each breath was a struggle, each heartbeat weaker than the last.

Rain’s voice was the last thing you heard as you took your final breath, her words barely a whisper as she held you close. “I love you, baby… please… don’t go.”

But it was too late. The pain faded, replaced by a strange sense of peace as you slipped away, your last thought a wish that you could have had more time, that you could have said goodbye properly.

When the shuttle door finally closed, and the engines roared to life, Rain was left kneeling beside your lifeless body, her hands trembling as she realized what had happened. Tears streamed down her face, her heart breaking as she reached out to gently close your eyes, her fingers trembling as they brushed over your cold skin.

“Andy!” Rain called out, her voice hoarse with grief as she struggled to hold herself together. “Andy, help me!”

The synthetic appeared almost instantly, his face a mask of concern as he took in the scene before him. He knelt beside Rain, his usually calm demeanor shaken as he looked at you, his eyes filled with something close to sorrow.

“There’s nothing we can do,” Andy said quietly, his voice gentle as he placed a hand on Rain’s shoulder. “She’s gone.”

“No!” Rain sobbed, her body shaking with the force of her grief. “No, she can’t be… I was supposed to save her!”

Andy didn’t try to argue. Instead, he simply pulled Rain into his arms, holding her tightly as she wept, her heart breaking into a thousand pieces. The shuttle’s engines roared beneath them, carrying them away from the nightmare that had claimed so many lives, but Rain’s mind was only on the one she couldn’t save.

As the shuttle ascended, leaving the Romulus Station behind, Rain clung to you, her tears falling freely as she mourned the future you would never have, the life you were supposed to share.

[violet-1atte]

Kinktober Day Twenty-One: Tentacles - Minho/Jeongin

Tags: Pirates, sea monsters, dom/sub undertones, top!Minho, bottom!Jeongin, oviposition, belly bulge, come inflation(?), mating, breeding, crying during sex, double penetration CW: Brief description of drowning (no one actually drowns!)

AO3 Link

When Jeongin was a child, his mother had always warned him not to go near the sea. “It’s too dangerous, Jeongin!” she would always say. “There are pirates and thieves and terrible storms and evil sea monsters. I don’t want you to get taken away from me.” Her warnings seemed to do little in changing the course of his life though. It had been years since Jeongin had seen her and he was a faithful member on board the pirate ship Stray Compass, led by the aptly named king of the sea, Bang Chan. Her warning against pirates now seemed only as a foreshadow of Jeongin’s future when he looked back on it. 

He had long since stopped being afraid of sea monsters. He was curious about them, sometimes too curious, as Chan often warned him, but at the end of the day he lived in unbelief despite curiosity. Strange things in the water? Hallucinations from sleep deprivation. Huge waves? The storms he had been warned about. The storms were the only things that scared him now. Those were what could really take lives out on the sea. 

He had always done his best to heed his mother’s warnings when it came to the sea. They were his captain’s and his crew mates’ warnings as well. But things couldn’t always go the way they were planned. 

It was a huge storm and Jeongin was trying to bring down the sails so that the wind wouldn’t tear them or push them over. The rain was pouring down, soaking him to the bone, and the wood was wet. He could hear his crew mates shouting down below but couldn’t make out a word they were saying above the thundering rain and howling wind. 

Then, a wave crashed over the ship. It tilted and Jeongin gasped as his foot slipped. And then he was falling. Falling, falling, the wind and rain rushing around him as he plummeted to the raging sea. In that moment all the warnings of his past came back to haunt him and as he screamed for someone to save him, to catch him, he wished he had listened. 

The water was sharper than any knife Jeongin had had the misfortune of getting stabbed with. His first instinct was to gasp, but instead of air filling his lungs, water rushed in instead. The waves were too strong for him to find the surface and quickly he realized he was sinking. Sinking deeper into the deep, dark depths of the sea as he thrashed around to find a way back up. 

As he felt the strength in his limbs giving out and head going fuzzy, something wrapped around his leg. He barely had any time to register the feeling before something was pushing past his lips and into his mouth. He would have tried to fight it but his body had no fight left. Whatever it was filled Jeongin’s mouth with something sticky and the substance traveled down his throat and into his lungs. The substance coated the insides of his lungs and figured that this was his moment to die, this was how he would end–eaten by one of those sea creatures he had never fully believed in but almost wished were real–then out of nowhere, the burning in his lungs stopped. 

He sucked in a sharp breath and instead of feeling like he was breathing in molten lava, his lungs expanded, his head got less fuzzy, and the tingling in his limbs subsided. He was breathing again despite being surrounded by water. He should have been dead. 

He didn’t have enough time to think about how he was breathing underwater before whatever had wrapped around his leg and pushed into his mouth wrapped also around his torso and his arms. There were more than two and they suctioned to Jeongin’s skin. He couldn’t pull away even if he tried. Then he began to move and he realized he was being pulled through the water. This thing is trying to kill me. It's going to drag me to the depths and eat me, he thought in a panic. The water rushing around him was almost painful as he was dragged through it at an inhuman speed. The panic that had settled into his bones when he realized he was drowning had returned. 

Thankfully, to his great relief and surprise, whatever this thing was, was not dragging him deeper. After what seemed like ages, Jeongin suddenly started to see faint light filling the water. He could make out the outline of the creature now and–was that a man with tentacles? 

He didn’t have to ask for long because suddenly he was being tossed up onto shore and he hit the ground with a loud thud. The sand dug into his skin and he groaned and then the burning in his lungs was back. He started coughing and pushed himself up onto his hands and knees as all the water trapped inside him spilled out. “Fuck,” he croaked after the coughing fit left him, his throat burned raw. “What the hell was that…” 

His question was answered quickly as he looked up and looked around and his eyes landed on a man–not a man. It was some sort of creature, one that had a human face (arguably the most pretty face Jeongin had ever seen), and a human body–except for the purple color of his arms and legs and the fucking tentacles that protruded from his torso. 

Jeongin scrambled back, the sand sticking to his wet skin. “What–what are you?” he asked, voice shaking. The creature tilted his head and began walking towards Jeongin, tentacles raised in the air so they didn’t drag on the ground. 

“I’m Minho,” the creature responded and Jeongin’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. He could speak too? He smiled at Jeongin’s reaction and another shock of fear stabbed Jeongin’s chest when he saw that its teeth were sharp. All of them. “Ah you can understand me! Good, it worked then.” 

What fucking worked??? 

Jeongin realized he said that out loud when the creature made some sort of laugh that probably would have been charming to Jeongin if he weren’t scared out of his mind. “What I gave you to help you breathe under the water. It also allows humans to understand us.” 

“Oh…” Realization dawned on Jeongin. “You saved me.”

“I did, yes. I can’t let a perfectly good human just go to waste like that! Especially when I was right there. I’ve been observing you for a long time. Very pretty human.” 

Jeongin’s brain short circuited. Perfectly good human? Observing him for a long time…? Pretty?? “Huh–what I’m sorry I–I’m confused. Why–why were you watching me? What…?” 

“Oh! You’d be a perfect mate. That’s why,” Minho stated as if it were the most normal statement in the world. “Very pretty, very strong. You have many people to protect you who seem quite loyal. You’d be perfect to care for my babies.” 

Jeongin’s mind was reeling. “Babies?” he exclaimed. “I can’t have children, I’m a man! And I just met you! I don’t–what?” 

Minho stepped closer and one of his tentacles slithered up Jeongin’s leg. Jeongin shivered and something sparked in his stomach and–wait what the fuck? Another tentacle came to wrap around his waist and he wanted to pull away, he really did. But he didn’t. The creature was ridiculously handsome and there was something alluring about him, but maybe he had put something in whatever substance he’d given him to make him breathe. 

“Silly, you wouldn’t be having the children. I’d put my eggs inside you. You’d incubate them for me. And I saved your life, right? I save your life, you become my mate!” 

Jeongin wasn’t sure how he had reached that conclusion but he was ready to wake up from this dream. It wasn’t a nightmare, at least not now. Because even though he was highly weirded out and still a little scared, he wasn’t terrified. What had that creature done to him? “I don’t–that’s not how it works. You can’t just–mate someone out of nowhere!” How would that even work? Did he have a weird dick that he would push the eggs into him with? Would he use his tentacles? They’d have to go so deep–oh. Jeongin swallowed and wet his lips. There was no way he was getting hard right now.

Minho pouted and the tentacle wrapped around his waist began to slide underneath his soaked shirt. Another shiver ran through Jeongin’s body and his nipples began to harden. “But it’s not out of nowhere. I told you I’ve been watching you for a long time. I know you’d be perfect! Please? I’ve never been able to find a mate…My eggs always have to die.” He looked so sad suddenly that Jeongin’s heart clenched. Fuck. He swallowed as he looked down at the tentacles going over his body. They felt good. He certainly wasn’t entirely against the whole thing, judging by how his pants were tented with the outline of his cock. 

Fuck, this was insane. 

“I…I don’t know…” Jeongin trailed off. His mother’s warnings flashed in his head. Beware of sea creatures. 

He found he didn’t really want to listen anymore. 

“Alright,” he said, swallowing thickly. His chest prickled with fear but another part of him was curious. So curious, like Chan always warned him against. Why were people in his life always giving him warnings? Didn’t they know that only made his desires more intense? “I can be your mate.” 

A grin spread across Minho’s face and he licked his lips. “I was hoping you’d say that.” 

Another tentacle shot out to join the other one under Jeongin’s shirt and together they both pulled it up. Jeongin lifted his arms as his shirt was tugged off and tossed somewhere on the sand. One of the tentacles traveled up to his chest and a slick substance followed behind it. The tentacle stopped at his chest and then one of the cups on the underside suctioned to his nipple and Jeongin moaned. “Shit!” he gasped, back arching. Minho was still smiling at him and he tilted his head at Jeongin’s reaction. 

“Pretty,” he mumbled. 

Another pair of tentacles joined together below Jeongin’s waist and began working to get his pants off. How many did he have? They seemed to be very tactile because it didn’t take them long to get his pants all the way off. Jeongin’s cock bobbed up and slapped against his stomach and Minho licked his lips as he looked down at it curiously. “Hmm yours looks different…pretty.” Jeongin didn’t have time to question what he met because then one of his tentacles was wrapping around his cock. Jeongin let out a strangled moan. 

“Ohhh my gods,” Jeongin exclaimed, eyes squeezing shut. The tentacle was slick and wet and sticky and unlike anything Jeongin had ever felt. His entire body felt like a live wire ready to combust. More tentacles made their way over Jeongin’s body, crawling up his sides, suctioning to his thighs, playing with his nipples, wrapping around his throat to prod at his mouth. There were so many sensations it was overwhelming and Jeongin felt like he was going to pass out. 

One of Minho’s tentacles made its way up Jeongin’s inner thigh, a trail of purple slick left behind. Then the tip began to prod at his hole and his mouth fell open. At the same time, the tentacle that had been at his mouth shoved its way in and Jeongin’s eyes rolled back. It tasted salty like the ocean but there was also a hint of sweetness that made it intoxicating. He realized he’d tasted it when he’d been under the water. 

The tentacle at his hole swirled around it for a second before it began to push inside of him. Jeongin let out a muffled whine around the tentacle in his mouth and spread his legs. The tip of the tentacle was no bigger than two fingers but as it pushed in it got bigger and bigger. Jeongin choked and dug his fingers into the sand. 

“I was worried you wouldn’t take me,” Minho said as he pushed his tentacle deeper. Jeongin’s vision went blurry as his hole stretched around the intrusion. “But you’re doing so well.” 

The tentacle pushed deeper, deeper, until it brushed against Jeongin’s prostate and he made a guttural sound around the tentacle in his mouth. It continued moving even past that until when Jeongin looked down he could see a slight bulge on his stomach. His head fell back and he took deep breaths in through his nose. 

Minho’s eyes locked on the bulge in his tummy and removed the tentacle from his mouth. Jeongin gasped, moans flowing freely as he began to pump the tentacle in and out of him. “So small,” Minho mused. He reached out with his hand and pet over the bump on Jeongin’s stomach. “Gonna look so pretty when I fill you up.” 

“Nghhh shit, oh fuck,” Jeongin moaned. Minho was so deep, practically in his stomach. He didn’t even know why he had been against this initially. Any rational thought had left his mind. He just wanted to be filled. Wanted to see his stomach expand as Minho fucked his tentacles into him and filled him with his eggs. 

“Such a pretty human,” Minho mumbled. “Truly perfect…” Another tentacle moved to press against his rim and Jeongin gasped, eyes going wide. 

“That’s not–that’s not going to fit,” he whimpered, but Minho continued pushing anyway. 

“It will fit. I promise,” he reassured. The tip of that tentacle slid past his rim and the stretch burned. Jeongin choked on a moan and his eyes stung with tears. The pain quickly mixed with pleasure so intense Jeongin felt like he was going to fall apart. Minho was very surely breaking him. There was no way he could live normally after this. 

It wasn’t long before Jeongin could see the imprint of both tentacles in his stomach. He reached out with a shaky hand and pressed down, felt them move under his palm. “S-so full,” he groaned. He had never been this full in his life. 

“You’re going to be fuller soon,” Minho said with an amused grin. Jeongin’s eyes rolled back as Minho began to fuck both tentacles into him, while at the same time he explored Jeongin’s body with the rest of his tentacles. There were marks sucked all over his skin from the suckers on Minho’s tentacles and there were tentacles wrapped around his thighs, his arms, his waist, all holding him in place. His whole body tingled and his stomach burned hot with arousal like he’d never felt. It was so much, so so much. 

Without a warning his body spasmed and he orgasmed, his cock twitching weakly as ropes of cum shot over his body. Minho wrapped a tentacle around his cock as he came and Jeongin’s hips jerked away from the overstimulation. The tentacle squeezed, practically milking him through it. “Mm-Minho 's too much,” he hiccuped. At some point the tears had started running freely down his face. Oh gods…

“Shh, pretty human, doing so well. Just gotta get you nice and open to take my eggs,” he mumbled. Jeongin wanted to whine, to cry out that he already was open! Minho was splitting him in two, he was stretched beyond belief. But Minho didn’t wait much longer after that, and all the sudden his tentacles were slithering back out. Jeongin whined pathetically at the loss and his gaping hole clenched around nothing. 

“Please…” he whimpered, unsure what he was even asking for. Slick from Minho’s tentacles ran out of his hole and coated his thighs, leaving Jeongin feeling wet and dirty. He’d never particularly liked that feeling but now it was heaven. 

“You’ll be a good little thing and take my eggs right?” Minho said, one of the tentacles around Jeongin’s thigh tightening. He nodded his head, too dumb to form a proper response. “Good.” 

Jeongin looked down through hooded eyes and his breath hitched at the tentacle that wrapped around Minho’s front. This one was different from the others–wider and shorter, and covered bumped where the other tentacles had been smooth. It registered to Jeongin that this must have been his ovipositor and he was about to be filled with Minho’s eggs. This thought should’ve led to panic, should have led to the initial feelings of apprehension he had. But in the moment he wanted nothing more than what was about to happen. 

The tentacles on his thighs spread his legs wider and the tip of the ovipositor slipped past Jeongin’s rim. It was already as big as the two tentacles combined and as it went deeper he felt like the wind got knocked out of them. Minho’s eyebrows were furrowed together and he was biting his lip as he pushed in, the stimulation clearly pleasurable for him as well. Jeongin could hear his heavy breaths and that only made the fire in Jeongin’s stomach burn hotter. 

“Fu-uckk,” Jeongin choked, digging his hands deeper into the sand. “S-so–so bi-igg.” He was sure this one would tear him in two. There was no way it could fit. He could feel the bumps from the eggs rubbing along his walls, rubbing against his sensitive prostate, stretching him further. The rest of Minho’s tentacles worked to touch him elsewhere–one jerked his weeping cock while another two played with his nipples. It was mind-numbing. “I can’t, I can’t, it’s too m-much hnngg…” At this point he was practically sobbing, his words coming out more like choked gasps and moans. 

Minho smirked and there was a small amount of blood on his lips from where he had bitten them hard. “You can. It’s already in. Look at how your tiny little stomach is full.” He pressed down on Jeongin’s abdomen and his whole body jerked. 

“Sh-shit, oh fuck!,” he gasped. 

“So pretty,” Minho hummed. He grinned, flashing his sharp teeth and leaned forward to grab Jeongin’s hips. “I’m going to start filling you now.” 

Jeongin was too dazed to process what he was saying, but he didn’t need to. He felt it the second it started, the way Minho’s tentacles tightened around his limbs and suctioned to him, and oh, the way his insides felt as Minho began pumping him full. It felt like cum at first, hot and wet, but then the eggs started moving. They spilled inside of him and Jeongin felt them moving along his walls. They stretched his stomach and he watched as Minho literally filled him up. He felt like the breath had been sucked from his lungs and all he could do was moan helplessly. 

When Minho deposited the last egg inside him, a large spurt of hot liquid filled his insides alongside and drool ran down Jeongin’s chin. Minho made little groans that were like music to Jeongin’s ears as he finished inside of him and filled his stomach with warmth alongside the warmth of being so full. “There,” Minho mumbled finally, his voice a bit rough. He ran his hand over Jeongin’s stomach and smiled. “Nice and full of my babies now.” 

Jeongin looked down at himself and ran his hands over top. “Oh my gods,” he breathed, wetting his lips. “I look–I look–” 

“Bred. Mated. My mate,” Minho said happily, a proud smile resting on his face. 

Jeongin nodded. He couldn’t believe this had happened. He had mated a sea monster. He knew his life was full of surprises but nothing could have prepared him for this. “Stay away from the sea,” his mother had said. Pirates and thieves, storms, and sea creatures. Every warning disobeyed. Jeongin silently sent a prayer of apology upwards. 

“Wh-what–” Jeongin croaked, shocked by how raw his voice sounded. “What do I do now?”

“You stay safe. Take care of yourself,” Minho said, running his hands and his tentacles over the bump of Jeongin’s belly. “Then when the time comes, you’ll push the eggs out and they will hatch. And be our babies.” Minho chirped as he touched his tummy and Jeongin was struck with how cute the happy little sound was. 

“Okay…but what about my crew? How do I get back to them?” 

“I will bring them to you,” Minho reassured him. “Only you promise they won’t look for me. Or hurt me. Or you.” He frowned deeply. “Humans can be scary.” 

Jeongin sighed softly and nodded. He knew that fact well. “Alright, you’ll be safe. They wouldn’t hurt you anyway. Just make sure I get back to them.” 

Minho nodded and smiled, showing his fangs again. A little shiver ran down Jeongin’s spine. “Don’t worry. I will. But first, pretty human needs shelter.” 

“Jeongin,” he said quickly. “My name’s Jeongin.” 

Minho’s smile grew. “Okay. Jeongin needs shelter. Come with me.” So Jeongin gathered his clothes off the ground and dusted the sand off of himself. It felt strange to stand in this state and he was sore and exhausted. And after taking one glance at him, Minho grabbed him with the combined strength of his arms and tentacles and picked him up, carrying him to wherever the best place for shelter would be. 

[lewmagoo]

it’s happening again | rhett abbott

the fifth and final installment of the wolf series ; must read other parts before reading this one

listen to the playlist here (i recommend listening to it's happening again by agnes obel while reading)

description: in which a wolf is caught in a battle between life and death

characters: werewolf rhett abbott x werewolf f!reader, reader and rhett's children, my own ocs as members of the abbott pack

warnings: 18+, mentions of injury and bodily harm, violence, character death, depictions of grief, mentions of pregnancy and birth, angst

dedication: to @lovinglyeternal ; without you this story would not exist. to @bro-ooke for being my beta reader. and to @bradshawsbitch for always supporting me through this endeavor

Previously in The Wolf series…

You held back a sob, the hand over your mouth lowering to rest against your belly, where your unborn pup lay. You had only one thought. “He’s going to die, isn’t he?”

The doctor’s mouth pressed into a thin line. Her eyes, deep brown and ever sympathetic, filled with tears. She could not sugarcoat her diagnosis. 

“I can give him some ancient herbal medicines that will help slow its effects, and ease his pain. But I’m afraid that all I can do right now is make him comfortable. I’m sorry.”

Your tearful eyes flickered to Rhett’s sickly form. His eyes were closed. His breathing was shallow. He was getting worse by the minute, and your world was falling apart. Your shoulders shook as another set of sobs wracked your body, painful and deep. 

You were losing him. And there was nothing you could do to stop it. 

Now

You shook your head, cheeks damp with hot tears. “There has to be something else you can do!” 

She sighed softly, hesitating, choosing her next words carefully. “I don’t want to get your hopes up, because the chances are slim, but…I do know someone who might have an antidote. A wolf doctor who’s an old friend. But he lives far away…I don’t know that we would be able to get the antidote here in time. Not to mention, there’s no guarantee that he still has it.”

“Well it’s worth a try, isn’t it?!”

“Honey, I just don’t want to get your hopes up. He might pass before the antidote ever gets here.”

“Please,” you whispered, grabbing her hand. “Just try. I need…I need to know we did everything we could to save him.”

Rose held your gaze for a moment before she reached a hand up to gently pat your cheek. “Okay. For now, I have a few things I can give him to at least make his pain less severe. I’ll give him some medicine and then make a phone call.”

You nodded, sniffling at more tears spilled down your cheek. You wiped them with the back of your hand. Rose moved to grab her medicine bag, which she promptly opened and began rummaging around inside. 

She set out three different glass vials. One had a botanical substance in it, which looked like a plant root. The other contained a powder. The other was a liquid. Then, out of the bag, she pulled a small mortar and pestle. She deposited a little of each ingredient in the mortar, and once she was satisfied, she ground it all together with the pestle, until a paste was formed. 

“Get me a cup of water, please,” she said, as she retrieved a spoon from her bag. 

You turned on your heel and rushed to the bathroom, where you filled one of the disposable cups you kept on the counter with water. Then you ran back to her, placing the cup in her outstretched hand. 

“Here,” she motioned toward Rhett, “help me get him propped up.”

You wasted no time in grabbing extra pillows from your side of the bed, carefully lifting Rhett’s head and shoulders before you put the pillows in place, raising him a little. He took a deep breath, though ragged as it was, and you realized this position made it much easier for him to breathe. 

Lovingly, you brushed your fingers through his hair. “I’m here,” you whispered. His head moved slightly in search of your touch. 

“Hi, Rhett,” the doctor gently spoke. “It’s Doc Tenpenny. I’m going to give you some medicine to help with your pain, okay?” She warned him before she even began to administer the dose. 

His eyes fluttered open, and he hummed weakly in acknowledgment. You held your tears back as you climbed into bed beside him, cradling his head as the doctor set to work. She carefully spooned the paste she had just made into his mouth. She followed that by giving him a drink of water to help it go down. 

He coughed, but managed to swallow it, grimacing at the bitter taste. 

Then, Rose used the paste to very gently smooth over his wound. The contact made him growl loudly in agony, and he tried to pull away from it. You wept as you held him down. 

Finally, she was done, and she carefully placed a bandage over the wound. “He’ll need an oral spoonful every half hour,” she informed you. “It will slow the poison down. The goal is to slow it enough to keep it from reaching his heart. But there’s only so much it can do. I have more of the ingredients in my clinic if you need more, but…with the fighting going on out there I’m not sure if I’ll be able to get to it.”

“How will we get the antidote?” You asked, your hand lovingly brushing against Rhett’s sweaty forehead. 

“I’ll call my friend. His name is Klaus. The last I heard he had come up with an antidote, but he had no way of mass-producing it. He may not have any left. I just want you to be warned that there is a very high chance we won’t be able to save Rhett. You have to be prepared for that outcome.”

“I know,” you whispered. “But we can still try.”

Rose nodded. “Where’s your cell phone? I’m afraid I left mine at the clinic.” 

“It’s downstairs, charging on the kitchen counter.”

With that, she hurriedly slipped away to make the phone call. This left you completely alone with Rhett. As you gazed down at him, you felt a fresh wave of tears well in your eyes. 

“Oh, my love,” you whimpered. “I’m so sorry. Please hold on, we’re trying to get you help.”

He took a labored breath, his eyes coming open again. “D-don’t know how much longer I can hold on,” he croaked. 

“Don’t say that. Don’t you dare. I know it hurts. But I need you to fight. Fight for your children. Fight for the pup in my belly. Please.”

He coughed again, groaning lowly as pain blossomed through him. “I’m…I’m tryin’. But you need t’…be ready, in case I c-can’t.”

“Don’t talk like that. I’m not letting you go that easy, you hear me? They’re not taking this pack’s alpha away from us.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, and you could see the tears that slipped down his cheeks. His trembling hand came up to weakly grasp your own. “St-stay with me, at least? Don’t…don’t want to be alone.”

You leaned forward to rest your head on his chest. “I won’t leave you alone. I promise. Now save your strength, please. Just rest, baby.” 

And for a few fleeting moments, everything was quiet. The storm howling outside was forgotten. There was no threat to the sanctity of your pack. No wolf fight taking place amidst the icy winds. No blood staining the snow crimson. All you knew was peace, there in your bed, curled protectively around the one you loved. 

But the reality of the matter began to set in. A bitter taste in your mouth. An ache in your chest. Your mate was in pain, and you could feel it all the way down to the marrow of your bones. 

You knew, then, what he’d felt when he almost lost you all those years ago. The terror and the pain he had experienced. All because Tillersons stole you away.  They prevented him from being able to sense you by putting a special sort of masking collar around your neck. Because of it, Rhett had thought you were dead. It was, as he had described to you, the worst moment of his life. 

And now, it’s happening again, you thought. It’s happening, it’s happening, it’s happening again. 

What if you lost him? The keeper of your heart. The father of your children. What if he slipped away forever, and you were left to go on without him?

The thought was agonizing. You had heard stories from other wolves who’d lost their mates. How it felt as if one’s soul was being stripped from their very being. You couldn’t fathom a life without him. He was the half of your whole. The piece that completed the puzzle that was your life. 

But here he was, gravely wounded, barely hanging on to life, and you were falling apart. 

Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me. 

You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but soon, Doctor Tenpenny had returned. You sat up in the bed, eyeing her, awaiting her news. 

“I got ahold of Klaus. He told me that he has one vial of antidote left. But he’s going to have to fly in, and with the weather being the way that it is right now…it might be several days before he gets here. I don’t know if Rhett has that long, honey. He might not make it.”

You nodded silently, gazing down at your husband’s face. White as the sheets beneath him. A glimmer of sweat on his brow. You held back another wave of tears. 

“But he’s on his way, right?” You looked up at her, waiting for reassurance. 

“He is. But he’s traveling all the way from Alaska, and he can’t leave until tomorrow, at the earliest. All we can do is hope and pray my medicine will keep Rhett alive long enough for Klaus to get here.”

And so, the waiting game began. 

There was much uncertainty you were facing. It was the most frightening moment of your life, and your knees threatened to buckle under the weight. But you had little ones to be strong for. You couldn’t fall apart. Not when you were the glue holding them together. 

“I need to…I need to go check on the kids,” you finally spoke. “Call for me if anything changes?”

Rose nodded, offering a kind smile. “I will.”

You slid out of the bed, standing on unsteady legs. It broke your heart to walk away from Rhett. You were terrified you would miss something. Terrified he would slip away and you wouldn’t be there to hold his hand and tell him goodbye. 

You leaned down to kiss his forehead. “I love you,” you whispered. Reluctantly, you turned away, making your way back downstairs, even though half of your heart remained upstairs. 

Outside, the blizzard continued on, winds howling through the rafters of your home. Cautiously, you stopped to peek out the window, only to realize there was no one out there. It dawned on you that Malakai had likely lured the invading wolves away, leading them elsewhere so that your family would be safe. 

While you could hold your own in a fight, because combat skills came naturally to wolves, you were still vulnerable because of your children, and now, because of what had happened to Rhett. 

A pack was considerably weaker without its alpha. You prayed silently that there had been no casualties in the battle. You weren’t sure if you could stand to hear the news that your pack members had been killed. 

Malakai knew what he was doing. He would protect the pack in Rhett’s stead, and do what he could to extinguish the danger. You just had to trust in his abilities, and pray that those trying to harm your pack would be overpowered and defeated. 

You stepped back from the window, drawing the curtain so that no one could see inside. You double-checked that the door was locked tight, and then you finally moved to go check on your children. 

When you cracked open the bedroom door, you found that Amy had managed to get them all down for a nap. Even Arya, who’d long since graduated from daily nap taking, was sound asleep, cuddled up beside Leia. Amy held a half-asleep Zoella in her embrace. 

Your heart warmed at the sight, and you quietly stepped into the room. “Hey,” you whispered. 

“How is he?” Amy asked. 

You shook your head, trying not to well up with tears again. “No change. But we did get ahold of a wolf doctor who has a possible antidote. He’s traveling in from Alaska.”

Your niece nodded thoughtfully, her face still grim with worry. “What do you think?” She inquired. “Do you think this is gonna kill him?”

All you could manage was an uncertain shrug before you quickly reached out and wrapped your arms around her. The two of you stood in the middle of the room, crying softly as you embraced. You felt so lost, but you were grateful for Amy’s companionship. Rhett was very special to her too. The thought of losing him broke her heart. In a way, it felt as if she was losing her father. In her mind, her father was not the man sitting behind bars at the Wyoming State Penitentiary. It was the man upstairs in your bedroom, fighting for his life. 

“It isn’t fair,” she breathed, pulling back to wipe the tears that had trailed down her cheeks. “He doesn’t deserve this. You don’t deserve this.”

You couldn’t utter an answer, because you were too overwhelmed with emotion. But you didn’t need to say anything, because there were no words that could truly describe the way you were feeling in that moment. The one that popped into your head was the word crushed. You were crushed. 

But it was only just beginning. 

After your moment of shared emotion, you led Amy out to the kitchen, intending to prepare you both a cup of coffee. Something to occupy your hands would distract you for a moment. But just as you were placing each full mug on the kitchen table, frantic knocking could be heard at the front door.

Both of you froze in fear. Cautiously, you stood, making your way to the door. Using your heightened scent, you breathed in, and sighed in relief when you realized it was just Malakai. But when you opened the door, you gasped. 

His clothes were tattered. His skin was stained with blood. He was very clearly injured, but not fatally so, for he was still lucid and upright. Quickly, you stepped aside, allowing him into the house. You could smell the scent of other wolves on him. The iron of their blood. 

“How’s Rhett?” He asked. 

“No change,” you answered. And then, “What’s happening out there?” You asked him as you hurriedly shoved the door shut behind you. 

He turned to you. His face was bleak. “It was a blood bath. We killed most of Kane’s wolves. The few that were left retreated. There’s no telling if they’ll be back or not. But…you need to know that we had several casualties.”

“Oh, no,” you whispered, your heart sinking in your chest. 

He hesitated, as if his next words were difficult. “Sweetheart, I know you’re dealing with a lot right now. As alpha, it’s Rhett’s responsibility to hold memorials to honor our fallen wolves, but because he’s not able to…would you mind if I did it for him? I don't want to overstep, because he is your mate and you have jurisdiction to make decisions in his stead.”

Considering his offer, you nodded. You knew you didn’t have the emotional wherewithal to conduct a mourning ceremony. You were fairly certain you would collapse from your grief and the grief of those around you. 

“That’s okay,” you replied. “Go ahead and do it. But please send the families my sympathy. Who are the ones that passed?”

He listed the names of the pack members, all of whom you had known your whole life. It made your heart ache, and you found yourself lowering down to the couch beside you, resting your head in your hands. Everything was in shambles. 

“How…how are we going to come back from this?” You whimpered. Then you looked up at Malakai. The wolf who had once been your alpha. The one you still admired and respected. The one Rhett tried to emulate in his own plight as alpha. “Uncle Malakai, I can’t…if Rhett dies, I can’t take up his mantle.”

He stepped forward, kneeling so that he was eye level with you. His face was kind. His eyes were sympathetic. “You don’t need to think about that right now. What you need to focus on is taking care of yourself and your pups. Do what you have to do for your family. I’ll take care of the pack end of things. Alright?”

You nodded, sniffling as you wiped at your tears with your sleeve. “A-alright. Thank you, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He nodded. “Don’t mention it. I’m happy to help.” Then he stood. “I should tell you, Rhett’s mother is asking about him. I told her he was hurt. I think she’s on her way over here right now.”

“Oh, I should’ve called her,” you bemoaned, “I was so preoccupied with everything that I just didn’t think of it.”

Malakai shook his head. “No, it’s understandable. That’s why I told her myself. Figured it would take one less thing off your plate.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, trying to keep your emotion at bay. A knot was forming in your throat. 

He smiled, patting your shoulder. “No need to thank me.” Then he moved to leave. “I’ve got everything else handled for now. Let me know if you need anything.”

And with that, he departed. You remained on the couch, your elbows resting on your thighs, your chin resting on your palm, staring straight ahead. You felt frozen in place, unable to move, still processing what Malakai had told you. 

Wolves were dead. Your husband was dying. Your children were frightened. And so were you. For a moment, the grief felt too heavy to bear. Like you were going to drown under the weight of it. 

But then there was another knock at your door, and it pulled you out of your wallowing. You straightened, springing up from your seat and hurrying to the door. You opened it to find Cecilia on your doorstep, her face pinched in concern. 

“I heard about Rhett,” she informed you. There were tears in her eyes. “How is he?”

You reached out to take her hand. “Come with me,” you said. You guided her through the house and up the stairs, straight up to the bedroom. 

There, Doctor Tenpenny had just finished giving Rhett another dose of medicine. When Cecilia saw him, her hand came up to cover her mouth. 

She stepped forward, moving to stand at his bedside, and she shook her head. “Oh, my boy. My boy,” she whispered. You came up beside her and placed your arm around her shoulders. 

“What happened?” She whispered. 

“Malakai didn’t tell you?”

“He just said he was badly hurt.”

You took an unsteady breath. “It’s Wolfsbane. He was stabbed with a blade that was laced with it.” 

Cecilia gasped sharply, her eyes widening. “Dear Heavenly Father,” she whispered. Her shoulders began to shake as she cried silently. “I can’t lose anyone else. I can’t…I can’t lose my baby boy.”

Your own eyes welled with a fresh wave of tears. It amazed you that you even had any left to cry. Over the years, Cecilia had lost so much. She never spoke of it, but long ago, after she’d had Perry but before she’d had Rhett, she had suffered a miscarriage. Following that, many years later, she had lost her daughter-in-law, with whom she’d had a close bond. Then she had lost her husband and son to prison because of their involvement with Trevor Tillerson’s murder. 

She was all alone now. Rhett was all she had left. the thought of losing her son was too much to bear. “Can you save him?” She asked Doctor Tenpenny. 

Rose sighed softly. “All I have is medicine that can ease his pain and slow the poison down. I’ve called a doctor friend who has an antidote for wolfsbane poisoning, but I have to warn you, he might not get here in time to save Rhett. And even if he does, there’s no guarantee that it will work. He might be too far gone.”

Cecilia shook her head, reaching out to run her fingers through Rhett’s hair. He appeared to be sleeping peacefully. But just by looking at him, and listening to the slow beating of his heart and his quiet breaths, you knew he had slipped into a coma. 

“Please, save my boy.” 

You realized Cecilia wasn’t speaking to you. She was praying. It was something you hadn’t heard her do in a long time. After what happened with Royal and Perry, it seemed that she had lost her faith. But now here she was, whispering to a God you weren’t even sure existed. How could he allow such a thing to happen? A young father with four, almost five, little ones to take care of. It didn’t seem fair. 

But you weren’t going to argue with Cecilia over God’s existence. If praying gave her peace of mind, you would let her have that. 

She turned to you then, wiping at her tear-dampened cheeks. “Where are the pups?” She asked. 

“Downstairs, they’re all napping in Arya’s room,” you replied. 

She hesitated a moment. “Do you need help with them?”

“I don’t want to put all of that on you.”

But she shook her head, reaching out to touch your arm. “Nonsense, you wouldn’t be puttin’ me out. You’ve got a lot on your plate right now and I want to do what I can to help. Do you want me to take them to my house?”

“No, I don’t want them too far away, just in case he…” You trailed off, trying to keep your emotions in check. 

Cecilia nodded, already knowing what you were insinuating. “I understand. Listen, I’ll watch over them, you focus on takin’ care of our boy, alright?”

Finally, you relented, because in all honesty, you had no idea how you were going to balance caring for Rhett and wrangling your children all at the same time. Having help would greatly benefit you, and lift some of the weight off your shoulders. 

So you let Cecilia assume that role, knowing she was happy to take care of her grandchildren. It was the least she could do during that terrible moment. 

“Amy knows their routine like clockwork,” you explained. “She’ll help you out.”

Your mother-in-law smiled softly. “Thank you for letting me do this. I need…I need to do something, at least. And I want to be close by, in case Rhett gets worse.”

“I’ll let you know if there’s a change, I promise.” 

She reached out to hug you. “I love you, honey. And I’m so sorry this is happening.”

“Me too,” came your whisper, your voice trembling. 

With one last look at Rhett, she slipped away, headed downstairs to speak with Amy. In the meantime, Doctor Tenpenny spoke up. 

“I have other pack members who were injured in the fight. Will you be okay by yourself for a little while?” 

You turned toward her, nodding your head. “Yeah, I’ll be okay.”

“I’ll stop by my house to grab my cellphone while I’m out, just call me if there’s any change. I just gave him another dose of medicine so you won’t have to worry about that for another half hour.”

“Thank you,” you told her, “I’m grateful.”

She offered a sad smile as she reached up to gently squeeze your shoulder. “I’m happy to help. It’s the least I can do for my alpha.”

Soon after, she departed, and again, you were alone with Rhett. The silence that filled the room felt deafening. Suffocating, even. All you could hear was his breathing, so slow it was almost if he wasn’t breathing at all. 

“Hold on, Rhett. Just a little longer.”

You weren’t sure if he could even hear you or not. 

In the following hours, you were hit with ebbing waves of emotion. Deep moments of terrible sorrow that tore itself from your lungs in the form of wretched, heaving sobs, as you clutched Rhett’s hand, crying over his unresponsive form. Then there were moments of numbness. Where you were certain you had no more tears to cry. Where you sat there and stared at him and realized that hope was fleeting and fate might not be kind enough to preserve your husband’s life. 

And then, there was anger. Scalding, vibrating rage that thrummed through your veins. You thought of Kane, and the havoc he’d wreaked on your pack. Part of you wished he was still alive so he could suffer for what he’d done to your mate. You longed for him to die slowly, just like Rhett was dying. It shouldn’t be your husband in this bed. It should be the evil wolf who had done this, instead. 

But life was unfair in that way. Bad things happened to good people. 

As your emotions cycled through you, you grew weary, the events of the day finally catching up to you in the form of aching limbs and tired eyes. 

Cecilia made dinner that night, and she brought some up for you, but you couldn’t eat. You had no appetite, and the thought of food nauseated you. Instead, you threw yourself into caring for Rhett. Administering medicine every half hour, wiping at his clammy skin with a cool cloth, trying to keep him comfortable. 

The only time you left his side was to head downstairs to kiss your children goodnight and tuck them into bed. Your two youngest were irritable, and they both put up a fuss as you tried to get them to bed. Being off of their routine, and knowing something was wrong with their daddy, threw them for a loop. As little Zoella cried at the top of her lungs, your own eyes welled with tears, and the overstimulation was murder on your senses. 

It made you panicky, and Cecilia was the one to notice your distress. Immediately, she stepped in. “Go. I’ve got her.”

You didn’t argue. You turned on your heel and fled from the bedroom, your feet carrying you as you scrambled to the door, on autopilot. You had to flee. Had to breathe. Had to have silence. 

You threw yourself out into the icy night air, dashing down the porch stairs, bare feet hitting the snow. One, two, three, four running steps until you went down, knees hitting the ground. You threw your head back and let out an agonized wail, your pain echoing throughout your surroundings, above the wind and snow. 

Why does it hurt so fucking bad?

“Don’t take him from me! You hear?! Don’t you fucking take him from me!”

Who were you speaking to? God? The universe? Death itself? 

You had no idea that at the very same moment, upstairs in your bedroom, your mate wasn’t alone. Someone was there with him, seated at the edge of the bed, inching closer and closer. 

His body was not conscious, but he could see it so clearly in his mind. The beautiful, but sad, face of a woman. Stormy eyes. Skin so pale it seemed gray. Dark hair that fell loosely around her shoulders. 

“You’re almost mine, young wolf,” she spoke. Though she appeared to be no older than thirty, her voice sounded ancient, as if she had existed before the conception of time. 

“Not yet,” he told her, for he knew who this was. This was Death, come to steal him away. 

“The clock is ticking,” came her warning. “You can only stave it off for so long. Soon, I will have no choice but to take you.”

“No,” he insisted, determined. My babies need me. My mate needs me. I’m not leavin’ them yet.”

“Soon,” was her final utterance. And then she was gone just as quickly as she had come, leaving a draft of cold air in her wake. She was determined to have this soul, for it was so close to Death’s door she could almost taste it. 

Rhett wasn’t going down without a fight. 

Outside, amidst the drifting snow, you rose to your feet, wiping your cold cheeks with the back of your hand, clearing your tears away. That was it. You had drained every ounce of mournful emotion from your body that you had left that night. You dragged yourself back into the house, and up into your bedroom, where Rhett still lay peacefully. 

You went through the motions, deciding to get ready for bed. You threw on a pair of sweatpants and one of his flannels that smelled like him. Then, you administered another dose of medicine before you climbed into bed beside him and went through your phone to set an alarm for every half hour so you would remember to give him more doses. 

As you settled in, you rested your head upon his chest, whispered “I love you,” and closed your eyes. That night, you drifted in and out of a fitful slumber. Waking to give him medicine, plagued with bad dreams in between. Your mind kept replaying watching Kane plunge that dagger into him. The moment your life fell apart. 

You continuously found yourself between sleep and consciousness, until finally, when the sky began to very faintly lighten, you dragged yourself out of bed for the day. The hardwood floor was chill as you walked across it, and you shuddered as you rushed to gather your clothes for the day. Hurriedly, you changed, uncaring if you looked presentable or not. You had other things to attend to. 

As soon as you were dressed, you set to work taking care of Rhett. You knew that you needed to see to it that he was kept clean, especially so no infection set in. 

Doctor Tenpenny had returned late the night before, and you had told her she was welcome to sleep on the couch downstairs. You could easily ask her for help, but you didn’t want to, because this was a very intimate thing, and you wanted to be the one to care for your mate in this way. 

So you filled a small bucket with warm water, grabbed a towel and a washcloth, and set to work. Lovingly, you began to wipe him down, running the damp cloth over his body. He didn’t stir while you worked, he simply remained in his unconscious state, seemingly unaware that you were even doing this. 

You fought to hold your tears back. He was so vulnerable, and seeing him this way was incredibly difficult. You were so used to him being strong and steady. Now he could not even take care of himself. This powerful alpha was essentially reduced to a helpless child. 

But you couldn’t stand here and weep over him. You had to press on. So you took a steadying breath and continued your gentle washing of his body. You tenderly dabbed the dry towel against his skin to absorb any moisture, and then you carefully dressed him in a pair of sweatpants, leaving his upper body bare. 

You took the time to place a clean bandage over his wound, trying not to cry as you realized that it had gotten worse. The poison was sucking the life out of him, slowly but surely. 

There was a very real possibility that this doctor friend of Rose’s with the antidote would not show up in time. Oh, how you prayed that wouldn’t be the case. 

After you were finished dressing him, you gave him another dose of medicine, leaning down to kiss his forehead after you had done so. “Good morning, my love. Fight for me today,” you whispered. 

You hoped he could hear you. 

As you tucked the covers back over him, Doctor Tenpenny came up the stairs. For a moment, she watched you quietly, waiting before she gently alerted you with the quiet clearing of her throat. 

“I can watch him. Go get some food in you,” she urged. She noted the reluctant look on her face, and immediately shook her head. “That wasn’t a suggestion. I know you probably don’t have much of an appetite, but you need to keep your strength up. That pup in your belly needs you to.”

You sighed softly, hand coming up to rest over your abdomen. “I know,” you whispered. “I just…”

“I’ll yell if anything happens. Now go, feed yourself.”

You relented, shoulders slumping as you turned and headed down the stairs. She was right, you still needed to take care of yourself, even if you didn’t have the energy to do so. 

When you reached the kitchen, you found Cecilia already awake, preparing a pot of coffee. When she saw you, she smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Instead, they were darkened by grief over the state of her son. 

“Mornin’, sweetheart. How is he?”

“No change,” you murmured, voice hoarse. 

She nodded sadly. “I figured.” She closed the lid to the coffee maker and hit the on button. “Want me to make ya somethin’ to eat?”

“Sure, but…I don’t know what I can stomach,” you replied honestly. 

She held up her hand in a ‘say no more’ motion. “I’ve got just the thing.” She then set about making you some buttered toast, complete with a little cinnamon and sugar. On the side, a cup of chamomile tea. 

“This was all I could stomach when I was pregnant with each of my boys. It’ll at least give your stomach somethin’ to digest. Don’t want you collapsing on me now, because you didn’t eat.”

You whispered your thanks to her, taking a seat at the table to enjoy your toast. As you began eating, you hadn’t realized just how hungry you actually were. You devoured the piece of toast quickly. 

“Can I actually have another piece?” You asked, moments later. 

Cecilia smiled at that, and this time, it reached her eyes. 

As you were finishing your breakfast, the house began to stir. Arya was the first one awake, and she came padding cautiously out of her room. When she saw you sitting at the table, her pace quickened, and she ran straight to you. 

“Mama!” She exclaimed as she put her arms around your neck. 

You embraced your daughter, squeezing her to your chest. “Mornin’, baby.”

She pulled back to look into your face. “Is Daddy feeling better yet?”

You tried not to react emotionally as you shook your head. “No, he’s not.” You reached up to run your knuckles over her cheek. 

“But I thought Doctor Tenpenny was giving him medicine.” Her voice trembled. 

“She is, but it’s not going to heal him. All it’s doing is making sure he isn’t feeling as much pain as he was before.”

Tears welled in her eyes. As you looked into her little face, you saw her father so clearly in her features. In the shape of her nose and the quiver of her mouth as she tried to hold her tears back. “How is he going to get better then?”

You pulled her into you again, cradling her head against your chest. “Another doctor is coming to see him. He’s going to give Daddy a different kind of medicine that we hope will help him feel better.”

A few moments of silence before she spoke again. “I hope it works. I’m so scared, Mama.”

You saw no use in hiding your emotions from her. “Me too, baby. Me too.”

You held her there for a little while longer, until Amy emerged from her bedroom, followed by Max. Then, you parted from Arya and stood to have your children sit around the table while their grandmother made breakfast for them. 

You were eternally grateful to Cecilia for stepping in and helping you take care of the children. You knew there was no way you’d be able to do it without her. 

Although you longed to go upstairs and sit at Rhett’s bedside, you took a moment to spend time with your pups, because you knew how frightened they were. They needed their mother. 

You felt so torn. Part of your heart lay with Rhett in your bed. The other remained at the breakfast table with your kids. It was a very specific kind of pain that you could not describe with words. But your mind traveled back to the torment you had endured over seven years ago, at the hands of Patricia Tillerson. That was what you would liken it to. 

Cruel torture. 

The ache was incessant. And it only worsened as you kissed the top of each child’s head and finally made your way back upstairs. As expected, Rhett was in the same place that you’d left him. But this time, Doctor Tenpenny had news. 

“I just got a call from Klaus,” she said, and at that, you immediately perked up. “He’ll be here tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, thank god,” you whispered, placing your hand over your heart. 

Cautiously, she stepped toward you, placing her hand on your arm. “Listen to me. He might not have that much time. We’re already pushing our luck. You need to know that I only have enough ingredients left to make one more round of medicine. If we use it sparingly it will last us until tomorrow, but I don’t know how his body will react to lessening the dose. I don’t…I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep him alive.”

“All we can do is try,” you simply said. You felt so powerless. Hope was so close you could almost taste it, but Death hovered even closer, waiting to strike, prepared to steal your mate from you. 

Don’t take him from me. 

While Rose left to retrieve more ingredients from her clinic, you sat with Rhett, holding his hand in yours. You lovingly stroked your thumb over his knuckles, staring at the way your fingers wrapped around his hand. Your mind drifted to your wedding day, where you had stood in front of your pack, your hands in his much larger ones, pleasing your love and eternal loyalty to each other. 

It had been one of the most joyous days of your life. 

That day, you had made a blood oath to each other, which had joined yours and his packs together as one. But now, his blood was poisoned. 

What if he slipped away before Klaus could even get here? What if you had to hold him in your arms as the life left his body? The thought sent a terrible ache through your chest. 

“Please, just hold on a little longer.” You were so exhausted. So tired of begging him to stay with you. 

What if he wasn’t meant to stay with you? You couldn’t fathom a life without him, it didn’t make sense. But what if fate had its own plans, that involved taking him from you? What if your lot in life was to go on without him?

Could you truly do that? Could you walk around with only half of your soul? It seemed impossible. It seemed excruciating. But you had to prepare yourself for the very real possibility that he wasn’t going to survive. He was already on borrowed time. This medicine Rose was giving him could only do so much. 

Were you willing to give him permission to let go? Even though losing him would be torment, you also did not want him to suffer. You didn’t want him to struggle for every breath, you didn’t want him to have to fight constantly just to stay alive. 

A soft sob left your throat, and you leaned forward, lifting his hand in yours, resting your forehead upon it. You wanted to plead with him to stay. Wanted to cry, wanted to scream, wanted to destroy your surroundings. 

But instead, you spoke softly. “If…if you need to let go…” but you couldn’t get the words out. Couldn’t force them onto your tongue, because speaking them out loud made them reality. Your soft sobs grew in volume. “Oh, god. Rhett, I…I’m trying to be strong right now. I’m trying to be okay with letting you go, but I can’t! I feel like my soul is being ripped from my body. I’m losing you and I don’t know how to stop it!”

You were wailing at that point. Great, heaving cries. You were so tired. So fucking tired. The rollercoaster of emotions. The grief. The denial. The hope. The fear. You experienced all of it in the course of five minutes, and it was a never-ending cycle. You felt as if you were going insane. As if your grief would crush you beneath its weight. 

But your moment of despair was soon interrupted when Doctor Tenpenny returned. You managed to pull yourself together, drying your tears as she set to work preparing another round of medicine for Rhett. 

And so, the waiting game began. 

That day was one of the most agonizing days of your life. Time seemed to slow, minutes dragging into hours, as if someone had filled an hourglass with molasses. Periodically throughout the day, you went downstairs to eat meals and to be with your children. But as evening began to fall, Rhett took a turn for the worse. 

You were downstairs, helping Cecilia and Amy get the kids ready for bed, when Doctor Tenpenny came rushing down the stairs, her face grim. 

“I need you to come upstairs right now,” she said. 

Filled with trepidation, you followed her, your legs as heavy as lead. “Is he dying?” You managed to whisper. 

She didn’t answer, she simply kept going until she’d brought you to the bedroom. There, Rhett was still in the same place you had left him. “He’s burning up with fever,” she said. “It’s dangerously high. I’m trying to bring it down but with how quickly his temperature is rising…honey, I don’t know if he’s going to make it through the night.”

You thought more tears would come. You thought you would sink to your knees as the severity of your emotions overwhelmed you. But instead, you simply stood there, staring at him, unmoving. 

For the first time since this terrifying ordeal had begun, you felt numb. There were no tears left to cry. There were no wails of pain to be uttered. All you could do was slowly step forward and gingerly take a seat at his bedside. 

So this was it. This was the end, wasn’t it? You were faced with a decision. The most difficult one you’d ever make. “I’ll go gather up the kids. I want…I want him surrounded by love when he dies.”

As you descended the stairs again, you wondered if this was acceptance. How quickly you had gone from begging him to hold on, to now rounding up your little ones to say goodbye to him. 

You stepped into Arya’s room, where you found her huddled up in bed, her favorite stuffed animal clutched to her chest, still awake. When she saw you, she sat up, her face morphing into confusion. 

“Mama?”

“Baby, we’re going to spend the night upstairs with Daddy.” 

She perked up at that. “Is he all better now?”

Mournfully, you shook your head. “No. I just want us all to be around him tonight, okay? Now get your stuffy and your blanket. I’m going to go wake your brother and sisters.”

As you stepped out of the room, Amy caught you in the hall. “What’s going on?” She quietly asked, her face tight with concern.

You reached out, taking her hand in your own. “I don’t think he’s going to make it through the night. I’m getting the kids and we’re all going to sleep upstairs. I want…I want him to be surrounded by all of us. Want him to feel as much love as possible.”

Amy’s eyes welled with tears, and she lifted her hand to cover her mouth. “No,” she whispered.

You pulled her toward you, wrapping your arms around her. “Go get Cecilia. I want both of you up there too.”

You embraced for a long moment, soon releasing her so you could continue rousing your little ones from their beds. Soon, with your smallest one, Zoella, gathered safely in your arms, and Arya, Max, and Leia all trailing after you, you made your way back upstairs. 

You felt like you were not of your body. As if you had detached from yourself, and were watching the scene unfold before you from the outside looking in. You saw yourself guiding your children toward the bed. You saw yourself spreading blankets on the floor for them to sleep on. You saw yourself kissing the tops of their heads and telling them to hug their father goodnight. 

You weren’t the only one experiencing an out-of-body sensation. While Rhett lay perfectly still on the bed, he found himself standing in the corner of the room, watching as you got the pups settled. A cold hand rested on his shoulder, and he turned his head to find he was staring into the haunting gray eyes of Death. 

“It’s time,” she whispered. 

His gaze shifted back to his family. His mate. His pups. His mother. His niece. The ones he loved most in this world. The ones he could not bring himself to leave behind. “No,” he breathed. “No, I’ve still got lots of life left to live. I have a new little’n to meet. I have a family to raise. You’re not takin’ me yet.”

Death laughed, though it was a grating sound that reverberated through his head. “You think you have a say here, Abbott? You have no ground to stand on. When I say it is time, then it is time. I’ve come to take what’s owed me.”

Rhett shrugged her hand off of his shoulder, stepping away from her. “No, you’re not fuckin’ taking me! It’s not my time yet!” He exclaimed.

She only smiled, shaking her head, long dark hair swirling about her shoulders. “You’re a foolish one, aren’t you? This is fate, Rhett Abbott. You belong to me now.”

Sucking in a sharp breath, he shook his head. “Give me until sunrise, please. As soon as the sun starts peekin’ over that horizon, I’m yours, fair and square.”

For a moment, Death seemed to consider this. Then, “Fine. You have until sunrise. No later.”

And then she was gone, leaving Rhett standing alone in the corner, watching helplessly as his family surrounded him, certain he was going to slip away. He had no idea if he was going to survive this. How could he? Even now, outside of his body, he could feel how weak he was. The wolfsbane had sucked all the energy out of him, rendering his body weak and frail. 

Could he truly fight this? Could he defy Death? For his family’s sake, he hoped so. He didn’t want to leave his babies. They still needed him. And he had yet to meet the little pup you carried within your belly. Another boy, he knew because of the way your scent had changed. It was the same as when you’d been carrying Max. 

He wanted to be there when that little one was born. But now, as he watched on, he realized that mortality truly was catching up to him, and he might not get a chance to continue the life he’d built with you. Was it really all for naught? Finding his mate, starting a family, achieving alpha status, all for it to come to an end in such a short time?

You had no idea that he was watching you. No idea that he was battling Death in the corner while you stood at his bedside, trying to be strong for your children. You had just gotten them settled in, after making up little sleeping spots on the floor for each of them, with Cecilia’s help. 

You tucked each child in, and then, you took a seat on the bed, beside Rhett. Amy and Cecilia sat at the end, wanting to be close by. Doctor Tenpenny graciously excused herself to head back downstairs to her sleeping spot on the couch, allowing your family this private moment, informing you to call for her if he got worse. 

After she left, Amy could no longer contain her emotions. Quietly, she began to weep, her shoulders shaking as she cried over the man who, essentially, was her father. Her grandmother pulled her in close, cradling the young woman to her chest. 

“Shh,” she soothed, rocking slightly from side to side as her hand came up to rest against the back of Amy’s head.

Of your children, it was Max who rose from his bed, driven by his tender heart. He wrapped his arms around Amy, and the sight brought your previously vacant tears back to the surface again. Arya followed her brother, and Leia, not wanting to be left out, joined both siblings as they crowded around Amy and Cecilia. Both women moved to hug the children, creating a little huddle at the end of the bed. The somber atmosphere had rendered everyone silent. But no words were needed. 

You did not move from Rhett’s side. Instead, you took his hand in your own, squeezing it gently, all while you cuddled a sleepy Zoella to your chest. Here, you had two of your greatest loves in your arms. One so full of life, and the other barely holding onto it. 

It felt as if your heart was being torn in two. You supposed that feeling would never go away.

But it was eased a little by the presence of your children. That night, instead of sleeping on the makeshift beds you’d set up on the floor for them, they all crowded into the bed. You didn’t turn them away, because you realized how much you needed them. Those four babies were your only comfort during the most difficult moment of your life. 

As they all drifted off, you remained awake. The room was blanketed by a moment of peace, with each child sound asleep, and Amy and Cecilia asleep on air mattresses on the floor. In those midnight hours, you huddled against Rhett’s side, hyper aware of every breath he took. You were waiting. Waiting to hear his breathing grow shallow. Waiting to hear his heart slow to a stop.

You listened for hours, so terrified that he was going to pass, and you would miss it. 

But sometime during the night, your body succumbed to your exhaustion. You slipped into a restless slumber, still partially aware of your surroundings. And then, in a dreamlike state, you saw something. 

A woman, standing at Rhett’s bedside, caressing his face. Your body went cold as you sat upright. Her gaze flickered to you, and she smiled. A haunting smile that made your heart sink. Her cold, gray eyes seemed to peer straight into your soul. She was beautiful, in an unsettling way. And you already knew who she was. 

“Get away from him,” you commanded. 

She sighed. “My dear, the sun will rise in just a few short hours, and he will be mine.”

“No, you can’t have him,” came your snarl. 

“You think you have any say in the matter?” Her fingers traced over his mouth. “I will kiss his sweet lips and drink his life force.”

“No! Get away! Get away, get away, get away!” You were shouting, flashing your golden irises, as if you could threaten Death herself. It didn’t work that way. You had no power over her. No leverage. She did what she wished and answered to no one. 

But then, all of a sudden, you heard the sound of knocking. Faint at first, but it soon grew so much louder. Death disappeared into the shadows, and you came to full consciousness as you gasped. 

Someone was at the door. 

Your heart seized in your chest as you hurriedly lept from the bed, startling the entire room awake in your haste. But you kept going, scrambling down the stairs as fast as you could. Doctor Tenpenny had reached the door already, and she did not wait for you to join her. She pulled it open to reveal Malakai on your doorstep, and there was someone behind him. Someone you didn’t know.

“He tells me he’s here for Rhett,” your uncle spoke.

He stepped aside, and you knew this stranger was the one who held the antidote that could save your mate’s life. Doctor Klaus Forrester. Highly skilled in lycanthropic medicine. 

“Klaus!” Rose exclaimed, reaching out to grab his arm. “Come! Come! We haven’t much time.”

He jumped into action, pushing past Malakai as he strode into the house. “What are we working with, Rose?” He asked as he followed her to the stairs. 

“He’s not well. I’ve given him an herbal paste to slow the spread of the poison, but it can only do so much. He’s burning up with fever. It’s been touch and go all night.”

Once the three of you made it to the bedroom, Klaus turned to you. “You. You’re his mate?”

“Yes,” you answered, voice thick with emotion.

The doctor nodded before he glanced about the room at the sleepy, frightened children. “The pups must go,” he continued, “they cannot be present while I’m working.”

“But–”

“Young wolf, I assure you, you do not want them to see what it about to happen. This antidote is vicious in the way that it attacks the poison in his blood. I do not know how he will respond to treatment. So please, get your children out of the room until it is over.”

Cecilia and Amy were already awake. Had been from the moment they’d heard the pounding on the door. They shared a look, and in seconds, they both sprang into action, gathering your pups, even as they expressed fear. 

“Mama, what’s happening?” Arya tearfully asked, running to you, pressing herself to your side. 

You knelt so that you were eye level with her. “Go with Grandma and Amy, okay? We’re going to try to help Daddy feel better. You can come back up when it’s over, understood?” You cupped her face lovingly, thumb stroking her cheek.

Bottom lip quivering, she nodded. “O-okay.” 

And with that, all four children were ushered down the steps. That left you, both doctors, and Malakai, who had just joined all of you in the bedroom. Anxiety roiled in your gut, and your hands trembled as you stepped forward, watching Klaus as he set his supplies out on the end of the bed. 

“How long has it been since he was poisoned?” He asked. 

“Three days,” Rose answered.

He shook his head, his brow raising. “He might be too far gone.” Then he turned to you, his face somber. “I will do what I can, but I cannot promise that this will work. It is very difficult to come by the ingredients for this antidote, and this is the last vial I have. If it does not work, there is no way to save him. With how long the poison has been in his system, it is going to be extremely challenging for the antidote to fight it.”

It sounded like you were damned either way. “I’m already losing him. Just get it over with,” you responded, defeated, broken, destroyed.

Doctor Forrester nodded. “Very well.” Then he turned to Malakai. “You. I will need your help to hold him down if his body physically reacts. This process is going to be very painful for him and the body will not respond well at first.”

Malakai stepped forward to assist the doctor. Silently, you moved to stand at Rhett’s bedside, gazing down at him, so peaceful in this state. It would only last for so long. 

Klaus set to work preparing the antidote, and you watched as he dipped a large syringe into a vial, filling the chamber of the syringe with the liquid inside. You were silent and unmoving, so terrified of what was to come. Malakai squeezed your shoulder. It did little to comfort your crumbling heart. 

Klaus spoke instructions to Rose, and she worked alongside him with the practiced ease of an old partner. They had worked together before. They were a team. But could they save your Rhett? Could they bring him back to you?

Klaus prepared a spot on Rhett’s arm for the needle to be inserted, disinfecting the area before he tapped on the syringe to release any air bubbles. Then, he began to carefully insert the needle into Rhett’s vein. On a silent count, he pressed down on the plunger, effectively releasing the antidote into his bloodstream. 

And just like that, it was done. The last of the wolfsbane antidote was now flowing through Rhett’s veins. All that was left to do was wait and pray that it would work. For a few minutes, nothing happened. Rhett remained still. The room was heavy with silence. 

And then, a sharp intake of breath.

You froze. 

Another gasp. Then another. You watched in surprise as Rhett’s chest heaved. His face began to contort into an expression of pain. He groaned softly, and then a little louder. Klaus knew what was happening. “It’s entering his system,” he said. Then he looked at you. “If this works, this is going to bring him to the brink of death as it purges the poison.”

You nodded, unable to speak. Your gaze flickered from the doctor to Rhett, as he took another great, heaving gasp. He shifted against the bed, and then, his sounds of pain grew louder. Sweat had begun to form on his brow. His limbs shook. His breathing grew labored. 

“Come on, Rhett. Come on,” you found yourself whispering. 

His body jolted. He growled, and his hands curled into fists. You gasped as he began to writhe. His muscles tensed, and his jaw clenched, so hard you feared he might break his teeth. His head turned from side to side against the pillow. Again, he growled, but this time, he sounded like a wounded animal, crying out in the forest as its leg was captured in the vicious jaws of a steel trap.

It was pitiful, and it sent a new wave of tears welling in your eyes. He grew louder still, and he began to thrash, fighting against the terrible agony that plagued him. “Hold him down,” Klaus spoke.

Hesitantly, Malakai moved to place his hands against Rhett’s shoulders, holding him in place. And that’s when Rhett seemed to come to a slight state of consciousness. You covered your mouth with your hand, shaking your head as you stepped back. You wanted to look away. You wanted to cover your ears. But you remained frozen in place, unable to move, unable to do anything else but watch as the love of your life seized in pain.

And then the cries started.

He let out a harrowing wail, so deep and raw that it nearly brought you to your knees. You could feel it then. Every last bit of his pain, coursing through you as if you were the one lying in that bed experiencing it firsthand. He cried, he howled, he fought and thrashed and clawed and scratched.

His claws tore the sheets to shreds, and left bloodied scratches down Malakai’s forearms. But the older wolf did not flinch. He held Rhett in place with all his strength, even as he fought with all his might to escape it. 

The sounds of torment would not stop. They filled your ears and reverberated through your skull. Your body vibrated, filled with an unspeakable agony. And you cried. You lifted your hands to your ears, and you shouted, “MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP!” 

But it didn’t stop. And you found yourself sinking to your knees, sobbing, shaking your head as you tried to drown out your husband’s screams. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts. No more, no more, no more. 

All you could see was white flooding your vision, blinding you, searing through you like fire. You bowed in on yourself, curling into a fetal position, all while Rose Tenpenny rushed to your side, wrapping her arms around you as you wept brokenly. 

And then, suddenly, you were not of your own body again. You were standing outside of yourself, watching the scene unfold. You stood at the end of the bed, and you saw her then. Death, hovering over Rhett, her hands wrapped around his throat, strangling him.

“NO!” You yelled at the top of your lungs.

“It’s time, wolf! The sun is rising!” She exclaimed.

Rhett clamped his hand around her forearm, fighting with all his might to remove her hands from his throat. He shook from exertion, his face red, his brow furrowed in determination. You surged forward, wrapping your arms around Death’s narrow waist, pulling at her with every ounce of strength you could muster. 

“LET HIM GO!” 

She leaned in, her mouth hovering over his own, and there, Rhett stared into her eyes. Cold and gray and dead. “You’re mine, Rhett Abbott.” 

You couldn’t pull her away from him. Couldn’t stop her. Couldn’t save him.

To your horror, Death brought her lips down to rest upon his, kissing him deeply. But something was wrong. In a strange twist of fate, Death pulled back, confusion written on her face. And that’s when she saw it. Rhett’s eyes were glowing red as fiery embers, clear and bright. 

He snarled. “Not this time, bitch.” 

Death let out a sickening gasp, just before Rhett reached up and slashed his claws against her throat. She dissolved into a cloud of sparkling black dust, and your arms, which had been wrapped around her, were empty. 

Your head snapped up, and you looked into Rhett’s face. You tried to speak to him, but in an instant, the scene faded, and you sat up with a gasp, returning to the reality of the moment. Doctor Tenpenny was still hovering over you, a careful hand placed upon your shoulder. It was as if nothing had changed. Except now, the room was quiet. No more cries of pain. 

You sat up, looking up at the woman above you. Against her cautioning, you suddenly scrambled to your feet, gripping the end of the bedframe to pull yourself upright. Confusion struck you as you realized Rhett still appeared to be unresponsive, his body still against the bed.

The only inclinations that he’d just fought for his very life were the shredded sheets and the healing claw marks on Malakai’s arms. And then Rose’s arm was around your shoulders. “You need to rest for a minute,” she told you, concerned. She had just seen you collapse. She worried for your well-being, and for the well-being of the pup you carried. 

But you? You thought of nothing but Rhett. “Is he…is he okay?” You asked, as Rose guided you to the bed, urging you to take a seat. You did, climbing in beside Rhett, your gaze never leaving his form.

Doctor Forrester was checking Rhett’s pulse. He didn’t answer you right away, and it spiked your anxiety. “Doctor? He’s okay, right?” You repeated yourself. 

He finally looked at you. “I can tell you that the worst is behind him. But he’s still not out of the woods yet. He needs at least twenty-four hours to recover. I won’t know for sure that the antidote did its job until he wakes up and I can give him a thorough examination.”

So it wasn’t over yet? You still had to worry about whether he’d survive or not. The thought sent you collapsing against the bed, curling against his side. 

“Everyone, leave,” you said. 

“I don’t know that—” Rose began, but you cut her off. 

“Leave. I want to be alone with my husband.”

No one argued. Klaus, Rose, and Malakai quietly excused themselves from your presence, and as soon as they were gone, you buried your face against Rhett’s neck, and you wept. 

What you had just experienced was the most harrowing event of your life. Paramount even to the suffering you had been subjected to when you were taken by the Tillersons. 

You had just witnessed your mate nearly lose his life, you had felt every last bit of pain he did, and you watched him fight Death with his bare hands. All of that, and you still had no idea if he was going to survive or not. 

You had no words left to speak. All you could do was continue to cry. And you did so until you were overwhelmed with utter exhaustion. You succumbed to sleep, allowing your weariness to wash over you in waves. 

You had no idea how long you slept. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours. But you were dead to the world, entirely unaware of what was going on outside of this bedroom. 

You were so deep in the throes of slumber that you did not notice the warm, familiar hand sliding up your arm. Nor did you hear the intake of breath in your ear. 

In fact, you were sleeping so heavily that you did not hear these two simple words. “Little wolf.”

They were echoing somewhere. From a far-off place, traveling faintly through the air as a fond smile tugged at your mouth. You knew that voice. It was so comforting and kind. It greeted you every morning, and sang softly to you every night. 

You tried to focus on the voice. Tried to hold onto it and not let go. Again it spoke. Deep and rumbling. Permeating your dreams. Summoning you to consciousness. 

You woke with a gasp, scrambling to sit upright. You hadn’t been dreaming it, had you? You turned abruptly, eyes falling upon the man beside you. Staring back at you were those beautiful blues that you loved so much. 

“Oh my god,” you whispered, your hand coming up to cover your mouth. “You’re…you’re really here?”

His mouth curled into the softest of smiles, and he moved to sit upright, leaning closer to you. “I’m here,”

You melted into a fit of sobs, but this time, they were joyous. Surging forward, you collided with him, throwing your arms around his neck as his own arms came up to encircle your waist. 

He held you as you wept, your body trembling in his arms from the force of your emotion. “Y-you’re alive. You’re alive. You’re alive,” you repeated in disbelief. 

Rhett squeezed his eyes shut, nuzzling closer to you. Tears began to trail their own way down his cheeks. The last several hours had been amongst the most difficult hours of his life. He felt as if he had just fought in battle. And he had. A battle between Life and Death. 

Life had won. 

And now here he was, holding his mate in his arms. Your cries broke his heart. He hated that you had been put through all of this. But he was grateful that he could be here, now, to comfort you. 

You pulled back to look into his face, your shaking hands coming up to cup his cheeks. Your thumbs dried his tears. “I thought…I thought I was going to lose you,” you whimpered. 

“I’m here now, and I’m not goin’ anywhere,” he whispered with conviction. 

Again, you wrapped your arms around him, squeezing him tight, as if you were afraid he’d float away if you let go. But he was right. He wasn’t going anywhere. He was here in your arms, and he was alive. All the agony, the fighting, the fear. It was behind you now. 

It was replaced by an all-consuming warmth, flowing through you like a comforting hug. An unspeakable sense of relief and peace. The storm had passed. The sun had broken through the clouds.

Your mate was alive. It was time to rejoice. 

Tears still trailing down your cheeks, you pulled back to look into Rhett’s face. His beautiful, kind face. With his stubble-shaded jaw and his button nose and his big, round cerulean eyes that crinkled around the edges when he smiled. 

You traced your fingers over his cheeks, which dimpled when he grinned. You circled your thumb over his lips, the ones that always kissed you so lovingly. You memorized the shape and feel of his face beneath your hands, so relieved that he was here, and he was real, and he was alive. 

“I love you,” you whispered, voice trembling. “I love you so much.”

Bottom lip quivering, he hummed. “I love you too, little wolf. More than anythin’.” He placed his hand gently upon your rounded belly, where his pup safely lay. 

You embraced again, crying softly as you held him close. “I was so scared,” you whimpered. 

He let out a shuddering breath. “So was I,” he admitted. “Was fuckin’ terrified.”

Again, you leaned back to look into his face. “Thank you for fighting,” came your whisper. “For coming back to us.”

“I’ll always fight like hell for you. Our story ain’t over yet, little wolf. We still got more to write.”

You smiled despite yourself, wiping at your tears. “I should…I should go get the doctor. Have him make sure you’re okay. He used the last of his wolfsbane antidote to save you.”

Rhett shook his head in disbelief. “I’ve gotta thank him,” he said. 

You leaned in and kissed him once more. “I’ll go get him.”

Your peaceful reunion came to an end as, reluctantly, you slipped out of his arms, climbing out of bed and making your way toward the steps. 

You were quick to descend them, making your way downstairs where you found both doctors sitting at the kitchen table, alongside Cecilia and Malakai. Cups of coffee were in front of them all. Nobody was speaking. They all wore somber expressions. 

But then, hope. 

“Rhett’s awake,” you called out. 

Cecilia’s head snapped up, and her eyes widened as she immediately stood. “He is?”

“He’s awake and he’s talking.”

Klaus rose from his seat. “I’ll check on him,” he announced, already making a beeline for the steps. You trailed after, interested in what he would say when he examined Rhett. 

In the bedroom, he found Rhett sitting upright in bed. “Hi there, Rhett. I’m Doctor Klaus Forrester.” And then, “you gave us quite the scare there, you know that?”

Rhett nodded, letting out a breath. “I know,” he murmured. 

“You, my friend, are lucky to be alive. Quite frankly, I’d consider it a miracle. With how long that poison had been in your system, it’s a wonder the antidote was even able to work. You’re a testament to true resilience.”

Rhett smiled softly. “I had a lot to fight for,” came his reply, as his gaze shifted to you, fondness shining in his eyes. 

Klaus turned to glance back at you, and he hummed lowly in agreement. “You did.” Then, his attention shifted back to Rhett. 

You moved to sit at the edge of the bed, watching as the doctor began to check Rhett over. He checked his blood pressure, his pulse, his breathing. Silently, you prayed that everything would be okay. That his health was restored and he was on the road to recovery. 

As he was working, Doctor Tenpenny joined the three of you, and she gently coaxed you into letting her check on you, too. “Your poor body has been through a lot these last few days. Let’s just make sure everything is all good, and that baby is healthy.”

You settled into the bed, right beside Rhett, as Rose checked yours and your baby’s vitals. Much to your relief, everything was perfectly fine, however, she did note your elevated heart rate, and told you to spend the next few days resting after the harrowing things you had experienced.

Knowing it was all over was such a strange feeling. Rhett had gone through the valley of the shadow of death, and you had walked through it alongside him. In the midst, it felt as if you would never make it out to the other side. And yet, here you were, both very much alive. However, not unscathed. The trauma you had experienced during these last few days would stick with you for the rest of your lives. But you would be that much stronger together because of it.

“Well, it looks like you’re going to make a full recovery, Rhett,” Klaus announced, after he’d finished his examination. “I advise you to take it easy for at least a week, until you get your strength back. It’s going to take you a lot longer to fully heal, since you were so close to dying.”

“Thank you,” Rhett said. “Really. I’m grateful. You saved my life, doc. Gave me more time with my family.”

Klaus shook his head. “All I did was inject you with an antidote. Your body did the rest. You’re one determined son of a bitch. Excusin’ my French,” he said with a wry smile.

Rhett returned the smile. “I put Death in her place,” he said. He reached over and squeezed your hand. You squeezed right back. 

“What do we owe you for the antidote?” You asked. 

The doctor shook his head, waving his hand. “Nothing. Considering the circumstances, I don’t want anything for it. Just save your money to take care of your family.”

“Are you sure? You said it’s the last of your antidote. Don’t you need more funding to make more?” You continued.

“Don’t you worry about that. I’m happy to do this service for you. Knowing your pups still have their daddy is compensation enough.”

Your eyes welled with tears, and you were overcome with emotion at his kindness. “Thank you,” you whispered. You looked at Rose. The doctor who you had known your whole life. The one who had delivered each of your children. “And thank you. I don’t know what we would have done without you.”

And it was true. Rhett would be dead if Rose hadn’t been there. She was the reason he’d been able to get the antidote in the first place. You were eternally grateful to her for calling Klaus for help. 

“I think our work here is done,” she spoke up, glancing at Klaus. “I’m sure the two of you would like to enjoy your reunion in peace.”

You shot her a smile. “Thank you, again.” And then, “would you tell Cecilia and Amy to come up here? They need to see him too.”

And with that, the two doctors responsible for saving your husband’s life bid you their farewell, and left the room. Moments later, your mother-in-law and niece came rushing upstairs, eager to see Rhett healthy and whole again.

When Cecilia saw him, she immediately rushed forward. “Rhett!” Her arms were thrown around his neck, and for the first time since he was a small child, she cradled her boy in her arms, rocking side to side as she cried, whispering silent praises to God for sparing his life. 

Your gaze flickered to Amy, who remained at the top of the stairs, her eyes glimmering with tears in her eyes. As Cecilia slowly pulled away from Rhett, he looked over her shoulder, and he saw what you were looking at. 

Reaching his arm out, he motioned Amy forward, and in an instant, she crumpled into a fit of sobs, rushing forward and falling into his arms, trembling with the force of her emotions. “I thought you were going to die!” She wailed.

He wrapped his arms around her tightly, soothing her. “Shhh. It’s okay. I’m okay.”

The three of you surrounded him, huddled in close, just relishing in this moment of utter relief. Rhett felt so loved, so cherished. After the suffering he had endured, the tenderness he was now experiencing at the hands of the three most important women in his life was something he savored.

But all too soon, the reunion was interrupted by Malakai. However, his presence was welcome. In a sign of deep reverence and respect for his alpha, he knelt at the side of the bed and bowed his head before he looked up at Rhett. “I cannot tell you how good it is to see you alive,” he confessed. 

“It’s good to be alive, Malakai,” Rhett replied with earnest.

Malakai slowly rose to his feet. “I wanted to ask your blessing to tell the other pack members that you’re alive. Everyone has been waiting anxiously to hear how you’re doing.”

“Go on. Tell ‘em I’m alive and not goin’ anywhere anytime soon,” Rhett said. And then, “What about Kane and his wolves?”

The older wolf’s face turned grim. “He’s dead. We defeated most of his wolves, but a few of them are still out there. We’ve been keeping watch the last few days, but I have a feeling they won’t be back.”

“And were there any casualties?”

“I’m afraid so. You weren’t in the position to make any decisions, so I had to ask your wife here if I could hold vigils to honor our fallen wolves.”

Rhett sighed softly before he reached out to grasp your hand, giving it a squeeze. “Tell the families to come see me in a few days. I want to talk to all of them personally,” he said. His tone was serious, and his eyes were sad. The thought of losing pack members broke his heart. 

“I will,” Malakai promised. 

“Thank you.”

“Anything else you need, you let me know, alright? Wanna do what I can to take care of my alpha.”

Not wanting to encroach further, Malakai quietly excused himself, allowing your family privacy again. But there were still four small pups that had yet to see that their father was okay. Cecilia volunteered to go get them, excitedly rushing downstairs to bring them to him.

You and Rhett waited with bated breath, and a few minutes later, you could hear their whispered chattering as they all came up the stairs, with Cecilia holding Zoella in her arms. Arya and Max were the ones who reached the top of the stairs first. 

You would never forget the looks on their precious little faces when they saw Rhett alive and well. It was like Christmas morning. “DADDY!” They shrieked, and within seconds, they were swarming the bed, and the room was filled with joyful giggles once again. A distinct contrast to the fearful cries they had once uttered as they witnessed their father upon his deathbed. 

As Rhett welcomed his little ones into his arms, cradling them close, he wept, for he could not contain his joy. He was crowded, surrounded by little hands, grabbing at him, hugging him, and tears ran down his cheeks. 

“Daddy’s here, little pups,” he breathed. “I’m here.”

The moment was amongst the most precious he had ever experienced, save for the day each child was born, of course. Life was as it should be again. The pain and suffering of the last few days had passed, replaced with a moment of healing and peace. 

“We’re gonna be okay,” he assured you, as you snuggled in close, joining the sweet embrace. 

Rhett held his children close for what felt like hours after that. None of them wanted to be apart from him, and that was okay with him, because he did not want to let go. It broke his heart that they had to experience such a traumatic instance, inadvertently caused by him. But what mattered most was that he was still here, with his babies. He could hold them and kiss them and tell them how much he loved them. 

And then there was you. His light. His love. His mate. The best thing that had ever happened to him. As the pups snuggled around you both, he reached out, cupping your cheek. “I love you, little wolf,” he confessed. 

You leaned into his touch. “And I love you.”

For the next few days, every available moment was spent in that bed, all together as a family. Respectfully, Amy and Cecilia allowed you to share that time without their presence, even though you assured them they were more than welcome. They wanted to give you and your children space as you all recovered from what you had endured. 

Lazy snow days were spent watching old Christmas movies, huddled together beneath blankets, never far from Rhett. The time spent together was therapeutic. You allowed your children to sleep in the room for the next few nights, knowing they needed to feel that security.

But time began to pass, as it always did. Life slowly began to return to normal. Rhett’s strength improved, and his body healed. He was able to assume his duties as alpha over his pack again. But this time, he had a renewed zeal about him. A new appreciation for life and its sanctity. 

He never took a moment for granted. 

–

As the months passed, and winter began to melt into spring, something happened. 

A new life joined your pack. Magnus Alexander Abbott was coincidentally born beneath the light of the full moon, in an unexpected turn of events. Rhett was the one who helped you bring the child into the world, catching Magnus in his arms as he made his grand entrance.

Together, you wept for joy as Rhett placed the little one on your chest. To think, you had almost lost him. But now here he was, having just delivered your second son, his eyes shining with tears of disbelief. 

He thanked the heavens for allowing him to take part in this sacred moment. For allowing him to live. He held you in his arms as the two of you experienced your son’s first moments earthside, and Rhett knew he wouldn’t trade this for anything in the world. 

He had gone through hell to get here. And so had you. But in the end, you had both survived. He knew, in that very moment, that as long as you had each other, you could face anything that came your way. Even Death itself. 

And that following morning, as you introduced your children to the new little one you had just brought into the world, Rhett gazed at you with love burning brightly in his heart, and he knew that everything was going to be alright. 

You would be faced with trials along the way. Life would never be perfect. But that was okay, because, in the end, you would always have one another. Your bond as mates would never die. And neither would your love for each other. 

Fin.

-

taglist:

@bradshawsbitch @laracrofted @sebsxphia @milesmillergf @rhettabbotts @hangmanapologist @withahappyrefrain @damrlova @just-in-case-iloveyou @theliterarybeldam @nobody7102 @agentorange9595 @powerlvr25 @mygyn @yanna-banana @whisperofsong @kmc1989 @peachystenbrough @callsign-magnolia @briseisgone @up-thereinthesky @attapullman @auroralightsthesky @bcarolinablr @ryebecca @ohtobeleah @floydsmuse @blindedbythelightt @combat-sixty-three

[shadows-writing-lounge]

As a Ganon fan for some time (started with twilight princess he looked so fine man) it surprises me the low quantity of fics for him (same with Bowser) at the same time there isn't a doc where thxs to magic Ganon mom's come back. Like imagine meeting twinrova and them being super excited because FINALLY their son got a s/o who doesn't care if he's victorious or not. Or even they don't care if he's in his human form or not. Please could you write a fanfic where Ganon is embarrassed by his mom's being excited over his s/o? Like it would be so fluffy

Ganondorf and Bowser seem popular but it doesn't seem like it considering you have to traverse the entire internet for mere crumbs. Took so long cause I really struggled with ideas plus writing on your phone kills your fingies.

Content: Third person pov. Gerudo Ganondorf leaning towards Twilight Prince per mention in request, Ganon calls s/o dear and beloved. Mentions of marriage. Pretty short around 500 words.

S/o: s/o is written gender neutral with they/them pronouns. No physical descriptions

-

As feared as Ganondorf Dragmire was, it was an immensely amusing sight to see his surrogate mothers baby the giant man. Kotake and Koume were on him the microsecond he stepped into the dwelling.

“My handsome young man,” the twin with red accents holds up her hands to the large man’s face. Similar to a grandparent squeezing their grandchild’s face to ‘see them better’

“Mother Kotake, we have a guest,” Ganondorf says, seemingly unbothered by what’s happening, moving the twins’ attention to his partner. The twins zoned in on them before looking at each other.

"Sister, I think our son has finally grown up," Kotake says, earning a huff from her son. Koume nods enthusiastically.

"Come in, Come in!" Koume guides the two further inside. The building was old, obviously just some place they chose just out of necessity. It looked well loved with rustic-worn furniture filling the space. Mystical objects and potions also filled the shelves. Along with miscellaneous creatures and substances. Ganondorf promptly guided his partner away from them, pressing lightly on their back.

Kotake waves Koume away, getting a pout from the glacial witch as she goes back to what they were doing before their son's arrival. Without prompting Ganondorf settled down, the chair creaked with protest but held up nonetheless. Sitting next to him they didn't have much time to get comfortable before Kotake offers a teacup containing something. Decidedly it wasn't tea. Ganondorf had received his own cup, miniscule in his armored hands. Looks like he's using a child's tea set Feeling his partner's eyes he looked at them with a slight tilt on his head.

"Is something the matter my dear. Are my mothers making you uncomfortable?" Ganondorf's voice carried a slight worry of the thought.

Shaking their head, Ganondorf releases a sigh of relief. Placing the now empty cup down. Kotake lingered nearby not wanting to interrupt the couple.

A few moments of silence filled the room before Koume spoke from across the room.

"So Dear, are you going to introduce your partner to your mothers?" Kotake nodded eagerly at her sister's words.

"Yes, yes, introduce them to their in-laws."

Ganondorf sighed, "We aren't yet engaged." This is why he waited so long to introduce his mothers. Koume took this time to hurry over grabbing his partner's face between her hands before her son could stop her.

"Yet, so you plan on it?" Koume says. They try to remove themselves from her grasp but she has a mean grip for an elderly woman.

"I've thought about it, Mother Koume. We haven't discussed the concept of marriage." Ganondorf relents.

"It's been ages since another monarch sat on the throne. Such a dashing pair you two would be." Kotake says with a pensive tone. The knuckle of her index finger resting on her chin.

"Come Koume we have plans to discuss," Kotake starts walking away before pausing to talk over her shoulder, "as the elder sister I will be handling wedding planning."

Koume had moved to follow a sputter in her walk at Kotake's words.

"Why I never. Lying to our son's partner. I'm the eldest by 5 minutes." Koume resta her hands on her hips and Kotake turns to give her sister a glare. Ganondorf stands holding his hand out for his partner to take.

"They are going to be a while, beloved." he says, guiding them out of the house. The twin witches squabbling louding as they did.

"So, about our marriage," they looked up at Ganondorf who refused to make eye contact.

-

Rest assured more Ganondorf content is coming. Headcanons and fics alike.

[ateriblewriter]

Obsession (t.z)

a/n: im really sorry for this. please don’t hate me.

Warnings: mild description of violence and injuries. please read with caution

Part 2

Enjoy!

Everyone liked your boyfriend. Women lusted after him. Men thought he was one of the next greats of the hockey world. Honestly it never bothered you that what people thought of him, he was yours. At the end of the day he was all you needed in life. There were people out that you knew didn’t like you. You read the comments online and every once in a while there would be an off handed comment spewed in your direction when you were out and about. The initial sting of words would hurt, but most of the time you would let insults roll off your shoulders.

That’s why it shocked you when something more physical happened. You never thought a crazed obsessed fan would hunt you down, and follow you around. You didn’t even see the closed fist of the person who stopped you for directions.

Nonetheless that's what happened. Some random person came up and punched you square in the face. The surprise of the impact made you fall to the ground, smacking your head on the ground. You hoped that was it, this person decided to use their foot to find your head and other various parts of your body.

In the blink of an eye it was over, yet it felt like an eternity. Of course the street you were on just happened to be busy at the time. So no one really saw what just happened. You laid there for a minute contemplating what to do next. In time you picked yourself up, and dusted off your clothes.

A massive headache was starting to form, and your face felt like it was going to fall off at any moment. You tenderly touch your forehead, bringing your fingers to your blurring line of vision you saw how red and sticky it was. YOur felt something painfully run, it must be more of that red sticky substance. There seemed to be so much of it. Maybe if you made it home in time you could get it cleaned up and Trevor would never have to know.

“Hey Y/N.” A voice called out as you ran to the bathroom once you got to the apartment. In your hurry to get home you completely forgot about your boyfriend’s roommate, Jamie.

“What the fuck?” Jamie caught a glimpse of you hurried to lock yourself in the  bathroom. He could tell something wasn’t right with you, so he whipped out his phone to message Trevor to get home immediately. “Y/N/N. Please open the door. I can tell you need help. Please let me help. Trevor is already on his way.”

“No.” YOu crocked out. You needed to just get cleaned up and everything would be okay. There was no need for your boyfriend and his teammate to get all worked up over nothing.

“Where is she?” Trevor practically broke down the door to the space they were living in. When Jamie texted him that something was wrong with Y/N and that she needed help, every horrible thought ran through his mind. He needed to get home as soon as he could.

“Hey Y/N, baby girl, please open the door.” He pleaded with you from the outside. You knew this was inevitable. You had to open the door eventually and you did. As you were trying to wash up the red ooze wouldn’t stop flowing. You needed help.

“What happened?” Trevor asked in a soft voice taking a step closer to his girlfriend. He wasn’t really looking for an answer, not yet at least. He just needed to make sure you were okay.

It scared him to no end seeing the open large gash on the side of your head. If that didn’t scare him it was the severely broken nose and bruises forming around your beautiful face.  

Trevor took another small step closer to you. He wanted to assess you for any possible injuries. His head filled with worry and concern. Sadness filled his normally happy features when he noticed you trying to scoot away from him.

“We should get you to the hospital. I think you may need stitches and your nose needs to be reset.” The hockey player urged.

After a little convincing you allow both Trevor and Jamie to take you to the hospital to get patched up. You felt the safest going with both of them. YOur boyfriend was right about the cuts, they were deep enough that they needed stitches and your nose needed a little help. On top of that the doctors wanted to do a couple of scans to check for any internal bleeding as there was an abnormally large red and purple mark on your stomach.

The doctors wouldn’t let either of the two men back with you. So they had to wait and wait. Trevor had too much energy and anxiety to sit still for long, so he paced until your doctors finally approached him. Only the medical professionals were alone.

“Are you Trevor Zegras?” An officer that had approached with the doctor spoke up. Trevor furrowed his brows and nodded “We’d like to talk to you about Y/N. Can you tell us where you were this morning?”

He told them that he had gone to skate and then work out for a little. His training had gotten cut short when Jamie had messaged him about Y/N. Trevor watched the two officers look at each other as if they were having some sort of silent conversation with each other. He could tell right away something was off. They didn’t believe him.

“Mr. Zegras, we need you to come with us.”

Again I’m really sorry about this. I hope you enjoy.

Please let me know what yall think! I’d love to hear your thoughts, comments, complaints.

[fandomfics]

We're Strangers

Part 2 of 3

Ragnarok AU

Pairing: Loki x Fem Reader

Description: Loki is wanted on Sakaar after being exposed in a plot against the grandmaster.

Master List

⚠️Warnings ⚠️

Au, Loki stays on sakaar and Thor never shows up. Drug and alcohol use, brief non con (kissing and groping, not Loki) , not proof read

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Tomorrow starts the week of leave the Grandmaster has given you to show his appreciation. For two weeks you have sat in your usual spot doing mind numbing tasks, trying in vain to forget about Loki. You plan on using your meager savings to find any substance possible to aid in the endeavor.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

You step out of the palace and into the throngs of beings shuffling about the streets. Your first stop is a hole in the wall shop that boasts potions and elixirs from the window. When you step through the entryway you are greeted with a musty smell, the cramped space is filled with tables covered in jars of powders and liquids. You carefully make your way to the back of the room where the shopkeeper sits at her counter.

"You look like you want to forget something." Her knowing gaze unsettles you to your core. In spite of your strong urge to turn and run from her, you stay in place.

"I do. More accurately, I want to forget someone."

"You're positive?"

You nod your head and she goes on as she produces a bottle of amber liquid that seems to glow from inside the bottle. "Speak their name and hold their likeness in your thoughts as you drink the potion. Remain away from them for three days, isolate yourself from the world, you will need rest. Failure to do so could leave their memory imprinted on your mind forever. "

You make your exchange and head back into the open air to join the crowd once more. You turn into the first somewhat clear alley and grip the potion tight in your hand as you release the cork. You can't wait. You need to forget now.

"Loki." You close your eyes and think of the way he looked at you when he held your face in his hands as you down the concoction. Without warning your legs wobble slightly and your vision blurs, you feel a bit drunk, but you can't seem to remember why.

The bottle drops from your hand and shatters on the ground, but you pay it no mind as you rejoin the crowd yet again. You wander aimlessly for hours, your mind blank, no direction in mind.

As the world around you darkens and the lights above begin to illuminate the streets, you're pulled into a bar by a man you don't know.

"wha are you doin?" Your speech is slurred

"I wanna buy you a drink and fuck you in that alley behind the bar." The man is taken off guard by his own honesty, but your positive response spurs him on.

"ooooh, you think I'm pretty?" You say as you lean into him. His hands are already roving your body, but you barely notice.

"Pretty fucking hot, yeah." He leads you to the bar where drinks are ordered. You dance with him while you drink, pressing your body against his as you stumble around giggling. When the drinks are gone he does as promised and takes you behind the bar. The streets on Sakaar are never completely empty, and neither are the alleys.

A few vagrants are scattered about but they pay you no mind. Your wobbly legs barely carry you away from the door when you're pushed up against the wall and the man begins kissing you sloppily. His hand slides up your dress and you don't have time to register what's happening before he's suddenly pulled away from you and flung across the alley.

"What is wrong with you?" He screams at his attacker from the ground.

"Me? What's wrong with you? Taking advantage of someone who is clearly not in their right mind."

"Hey, she's cool with it! Right?" The man looks at your form slumped against the wall as you try to stay standing.

"Yeah, s'gonna fuck me!" Your barely coherent words are all the attacker needs before stalking towards the man. He grabs him by the front of his shirt, speaking quietly to him, when he's finished he pushes him back to the ground and picks you up in his arms. The man doesn't protest, and neither do you as your head lulls backward and you are unconscious.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

You wake in the presence of a man that is almost familiar. Like you met once very briefly long ago, you almost know his face. He moves back and forth in a small kitchen, worry furrowing his brow. You watch for a moment from the bed you lay in before speaking.

"Where am I?" You wince as a throbbing headache threatens to take your vision when you lift your head.

"A safe place. You can go anytime, I'm not holding you."

You sigh and your head drops back to the pillow again, pinching the bridge of your nose trying to relieve the ache.

"And who are you?" He stops what he's doing and turns to you in disbelief. He closes the distance and rests the back of his hand on your forehead briefly to check for a fever.

"Well? Are you going to answer me?" You prod as you look into his eyes.

He sits on the edge of the bed and searches your eyes, "You know me." Your name falls softly from his lips, a barely audible whisper.

You squint your eyes taking in his angular features, his dark slicked buck hair, his piercing eyes. "You look familiar, where do I know you from?"

His eyes are full of fear and confusion, trying to figure out how you suddenly don't remember him. "...I'm Loki." Almost to himself, as if your lack of memory is directly linked to his very existence.

A blinding white light fills your vision and you grasp your head in pain with a primal scream. Suddenly your memories are flooding back to you, each one with a searing pain that feels like death is imminent.

Loki sits completely dumbfounded on the edge of the bed, he starts to reach out to you just before you go limp in the bed. He finished closing the distance and searches for any sign of life, you finally pull in a deep breath and your eyes shoot open.

You're disoriented and your vision is fuzzy, but you remember what happened. Everything. Loki comes into focus and you can't quite place the look on his face.

"Well, thanks for ruining yet another thing for me!" Your voice drips with sarcasm and you swing your legs over the side of the bed, forcing him out of the way.

His silence is deafening as he looks to the floor.

"What, nothing to say? You're not going to try and convince me that you're really a great guy cause you saved me from that prick last night? Try and get me to stay?"

He shakes his head, a pang of pain courses through your chest. His words, his actions, his intent, all garbled like the sound of static picking up a signal every so often.

He saves you, but doesn't care enough to try and keep you, convince you that he really feels something. Didn't put up a fight when you rejected him, but made sure you were safe when he found you in trouble. Your feelings confuse you as much as he does, the loss of his presence weighed heavily on you in the palace, but you don't feel that weight lifted as you stand in front of him now, you only feel pain.

You turn to make your way to the door when it's suddenly knocked down by palace guards.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

You and Loki kneel in front of the grandmaster heads bowed as he speaks.

"I have trusted you for many years, you have proven nothing but your loyalty in all of your time with me. What changed?"

You lift your head, but before you're able to speak Loki speaks.

"It was only me. I manipulated her and used her, but the second she knew she told you." He scowled "I took her against her will, which is why you found her with me."

"Lock him away." The guards take Loki and the Grandmaster motions you to come to him.

"Are you okay Dove?" He pets your hair and looks into your eyes. Tears threaten to surface in your eyes and you stay silent. If you speak you know you won't be able to stop crying.

You shake your head no and he looks at you with pity. "Well, would you like to spend the rest of your leave in the guest quarters, use the spa, all those other fun guest perks?"

You nod solemnly. "Great. You do that, come back refreshed and things will be back to normal in no time!"

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

You collapse on the bed in tears as you stare up at the ceiling. A million thoughts race through your mind. How had Loki lied in your presence to the grandmaster? He wasn't a doppelganger. What was the point of it all? What was his long game?

Just then a knock comes at your door and another servant you recognize rolls a cart full of food and drink into the room, closing the door behind them.

"Hey Jeo." You mumble pathetically.

"I need to talk to you, quickly." The voice that comes from him isn't his, it's Loki's. You look back up to see his form shift to his own and you scream in frustration.

"What the fuck. What part of I don't want to see you again didn't you get?"

He gestures for you to keep your voice down as you cross your arms and wait for a response.

"I want to grant your wish, really, I do. I can easily leave this place, I have a ship waiting for me near the outskirts, but I need you to be with the grandmaster when I stage my escape."

"Why do you think I would help you?" You scoff.

"It's not for me! Just do as I say. I'll be leaving in the morning when he usually takes his meal. Be there with him."

"And if I don't?" You sit up and cross your arms as you stare at him.

"Your stubbornness knows no bounds, does it woman?! If you don't, they will likely think you aided in my escape! Don't you see I'm trying to protect you?" He turns away from you and takes a deep breath trying to compose himself as he sits on the edge of your bed.

"I love you, but I accept that I ruined any chance of being anything to you when I told you the truth. I knew it was a possibility. I'm sorry for everything, truly. I don't want them to think you helped me escape."

You reach out to touch him, ensuring that it's really Loki sitting in front of you. He turns to face you with tears in his eyes. It's him. His vulnerability cuts you to the core and your thoughts are a jumble.

"How did you lie to the grandmaster?"

"I did not. As soon as I told you of my manipulation you told him about my plans, and you didn't consent to me taking you away from the man in the alley." He sighs. "I did what I could to keep you out of it."

Words escape you, tears well in your eyes as you try piecing together your feelings but it's too much, and all you can do is lay back and stare at the ceiling.

Loki stands and from the corner of your eye you see his form change in a green glow as he moves toward the doors.

"Thank you." He stops and turns his head slightly to acknowledge your words before leaving the room.

[littledragondork]

TES Summerfest day 1: Breath

Content warnings for gore, descriptions of a corpse, drowning and general horror themes.

I promise my other fics won't be horror related, I just had a good horror idea for this prompt

Everything was a blurry haze, any sounds were just muffled, being beaten out by the intense rigging that overtook Brigitte’s ears and the labored breaths as if she had a mammoth on her chest, crushing her lungs. Was that shouting she was hearing? A waterfall? She wasn't sure, to be honest she wasn’t even positive that everything around her was real. Focusing more and she was able to process the water rapidly filling the cave but the ringing in her ears and heavy breathing persisted, preventing any sound from being understood.

She slowly and shakily raised her hands into her line of sight, shaky and covered in a red, viscous substance and smelling slightly sweet and metallic. 

Brigitte’s breath quickened, faster and raspier, desperately trying to fill her lungs as the water began to rise to her feet at an alarming pace.

Looking up onto the scene before her water, now to her knees, everything appeared to be spinning rapidly, fuzzy and unidentifiable. She squeezed her eyes shut in hopes it would stop the dizziness but it only caused her to sway, snapping open her eyes as she began to fall face first into the quickly rising water.

Anxiety filled every ounce of her body as she inhaled massive gulps of water, but something was wrong. With every attempt at a gasp for air, Brigitte was instead with a sharp metallic taste filling her mouth and lungs. She began to flail and scream against the liquid and any attempt at opening her eyes was met with nothing but a vision of dark red making her feel the need to scream until her lungs gave out, but with every attempt the sick, sticky metallic liquid would force itself down her throat. 

The constant flailing against the thick liquid, she began to feel it come up over her other head, she couldn’t tell if it was the fluid rising or her being dragged under. 

Brigitte fiercely kicked her legs in a feeble attempt to swim but they felt bound by some sort of force stronger than herself. 

Looking down her body she saw a hand. A hand bloated and decayed, swiftly followed by a second one reaching through the murk of the fluid as the figure began to slowly climb up her body and pull her deeper and deeper into the flood. The skin dark and cold, bloated and descended almost as if the very flesh of the body was making a desperate attempt to remove itself from the skeleton beneath. The hands grip were as cold as death itself, and she could feel the click of the joints popping and cracking against the rigor mortis having taken hold of them. The body’s nails, piercing through her armor and digging into her warm flesh.

The first hand releases from her ankle before quickly gripping her hip with enough force to make her think it was trying to rip her leg from her body. 

The second hand following suit gripped painfully at her waist, digging its grotesque, mangled fingers through her armor and ripping at her vulnerable flesh. Gripping with such force Brigitte could feel her skin being torn, almost like old paper.

The body was hoisting itself up, pulling Brigitte down in the process, it’s body contorting in an unnatural fashion with the state of decay, squeezing itself to Brigitte’s own body, getting dragged closer and closer she began to recognize this body. The corpse let out an attempt at a breath, foul black fluid escaping his bloated and decaying maw, the jaw unhinging, feeling the sickening crack reverberate through the fluid surrounding them both. The hands release their rigid grip only to tear at her upper arm and yank her down further, to the point she could taste the foul, sickly sweet tasting rot past the metallic pang of the liquid surrounding them both. 

Brigitte stared at the body’s face, the skin sloughing off his mouth contorts in what appeared to be a feeble attempt at forming words. With every bit of skin that tears off the face, more black decayed blood and liquified flesh and gas would escape from the gap between the decayed skin and bone.

More and more of the body’s skin floated off his body and disappeared into the murk, the body’s armor loosened as the flesh it was once housing began to lose mass and float away. The body’s mouth contorts further and after his many attempts, he breathes as the blackened bubbles of rot escape his partially skin covered mouth. Brigitte holds her breath in an attempt to save what little air she has left trapped in her lungs. She hears a voice, raspy, guttural and mocking, the voice of a man who is taunting her from beyond the grave.

“You did this to me.”

[whatanoof]

A Push in the Right Direction

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Cal Kestis x Reader

Word Count: ~7.6k

Warnings: fluff, smut, swearing, sexual tension, rough sex, sex pollen so by default it's dubcon, pining

Summary: Healing injured patients? Psh, easy stuff. Force healing? A little more tricky. Confessing your crush to your very close friend? Damn near impossible until a flower bush shoves you in the right direction.

A/N: Happy birthday my friend @marvelassassin221b!! I hope you are staying safe, and that your birthday will bring happiness and wisdom to your life. It's been a blessing talking to you and laughing at memes together <3 Thank you for giving me the push to get this fic done and posted, I couldn't have done it without you. Enjoy some of our favorite redhead Jedi ;)

You’ve always been terrible with directions. Like, it’s a miracle you haven’t gotten lost in more dangerous settings, but even your Jedi Master used to shake their head when you had survival exercises in your Padawan years. Greez too, makes comments about how atrocious you are at navigation. You hadn’t been allowed back to the holomap since a disastrous set of directions landed the Mantis on the more unfriendly side of the Outer Rim.

But even with all of your shortcomings at mapping, you have a solid crisis mode. You need to have one as a medic. It’s not a good idea to freeze when a patient is bleeding out on the ground in front of you, there is only one way that is going to end, and it’s not going to be a happy ending. Under pressure, all of the unsureness that surfaces during your attempts at navigation vanishes, and your body is moving before your mind even consciously thinks to. It’s your zen mode, almost your place of meditation, where you give into the inner instinct and allow the Force to guide you through the process. Too bad you can’t reach that state in any situation other than emergencies, maybe you would be able to navigate your moves in confessing a crush.

You had met Cal Kestis on Bracca. He’d cut his hand open on a jagged edge of wall paneling, and Prauf brought him to you, one of the few healers among the scrappers. You couldn’t tell what exactly it was that gave him away to you, but the instant his eyes met yours, you knew where he had come from.

Of course, you waited until Prauf had gone back to work to reveal yourself. Healing through the Force decreases the chance of infection, is painless, and is essentially instantaneous. While your normal supplies would have done the trick, the drama queen in you realized this would be the perfect way to show Cal he wasn’t alone. Force healing is tricky, but you’d had a surprising knack for it ever since your youngling years. The Order had trained you up in the way of Force healing and given you the tools to take advantage of your aptitudes. Cal’s face had been priceless when you simply waved your hand over his, and the wound closed within seconds.

There was a certain comfort in knowing you weren’t alone. Admittedly, in the long years after the Purge, you’d toyed with the idea that you had been the only Jedi to escape. Those had been dark days, where you could barely scrape together the energy to forage for food and water, laughing that the Jedi Order would die with a single Padawan who had lost her lightsaber along with everything she had known.

But then Cal stumbled into your little cordoned off area. You’d become close friends from that moment to the day Prauf died and the Ninth Sister shoved you both off of the cliff and onto the freight train below. The Mantis crew was surprised, to say the least. They had gotten reports of a single Jedi wreaking havoc on Bracca. But they welcomed you aboard and you had become the team medic, patching up Cal when he got back from missions and finding time in between to try and recover the Force abilities you had lost to time.

---

“Hey.” You look up from your work. Medical supplies lie strewn across the floor of your part of the room, bandages unwound and your meager supply of medication stacked methodically in the corner.

Cal looks down at you from the doorway, a streak of something across his cheekbone. You want to wipe it off, but you just smile back, “Welcome back. Find anything cool?”

His happy grin only widens, “You’ll have to come and find out.”

“What?”

He beckons you towards the main hull, “Come on!”

Cere and Greez are already there and seated around the meal table, and BD is perched on the table, chirruping animatedly as if talking to Cere. You take your place with them, noting the empty chair to your right. Merrin is back on Dathomir, searching for ancient texts about Nightsister magic and rituals. She’s been gone for several days, but you still find yourself seeking out her snarky comments and cool confidence.

“Okay.” Cal stands at the head of the table, rubbing his hands together in a way that makes him seem as if he is playing the adult. “I’m willing to bet you're all wondering why I’ve called you here today…”

“Spit it out Cal, you woke me up from a nap for this.” Greez eyes the redhead grumpily, and you fight to hide a grin. Cere also looks mildly amused, if slightly impatient.

Cal rolls his eyes, but continues, “Cordova left a message, saying something very valuable to our quest is locked in a vault in the Zeffo caves. I found the vault today and it matches Cordova’s description, but we need two Force users to access it.” He nudges BD, and the little droid projects an image of the vault door. It’s massive, with gold decorations swirling across it, and two obvious indents in the ground on either side for said Force users.

Everyone’s gazes flit to Merrin’s empty chair. It’s without question she would have been the best fit for this mission. Her combat style complements Cal’s perfectly, and Cere is still hesitant to use the Force.

Realization strikes you, and you glance up to see everyone’s eyes are now trained on you. You begin to shake your head. “That’s a bad idea--”

“We’ll be fine. I’ll lead us directly to the vault. I have my saber, and you have your Force healing. Worst case scenario, you have to patch me up in the field.” That is definitely not the worst case scenario, but there are no other options. This mission is time-sensitive, and you can’t wait for Merrin to get back from Dathomir.

You fix him with a stern glare. “I will come. But--” You hold up a hand when Cal opens his mouth. “You have to stick with me. No disappearing and popping out to scare me, because I will get lost We go in, and we get out.“

“I wouldn--” Cal protests.

“You would.” You snap.

“Yeah, he would.” Cere agrees.

“Sounds like something you would do.” Greez nods.

BD beeps cheerily from its place in the center of the table, clearly in agreement with you.

Cal shuts his mouth with an audible pop, and you cross your arms while staring him down. Yes he would.

“I need BD back here on the ship. I’m running diagnostics on the navigation programming, and I can’t do it alone.” Cere speaks up.

Cal hesitates. You understand; he never goes on missions without BD. The two are a package deal, but everything needs to be running at peak efficiency before you go to the Fort Inquisitorius. And there’s no way you’re willing to deal with a navigation error en route.

You speak up, “Yeah, it will be fine.”

Cal looks at you, “We need BD to unlock a shortcut. What happened to in and out?”

You wave him off, “We’ll take the scenic route. Cere needs BD back here, and we can manage without. We’ll have our comm units, it will be fine.”

---

Do you know that saying, “Famous last words?”

Yeah. You hadn’t realized just how famous those last words could be. It started when Cal realized he’d left his comm unit on the ship in the charging port. But it was fine, because you had yours. Until you dropped it into a puddle after tripping over a tree root.

The scenic route involved passing through the outskirts of a forest, and the terrain was a little trickier than you had been prepared to handle, obviously. So, commless and armed with a single lightsaber and two shared brain cells, you travel towards the entrance to the Zeffo caves.

A flower bush catches your eye. Its leaves are a shocking shade of red, with gorgeous blue flowers that seem to call you over to them. Cal keeps walking even as you stop and reach for the bush. You pluck the flower in the fullest bloom and turn it over in your hand, admiring the veins of deeper azure spider webbing across the petals.

Cal says your name behind you, “We have to keep moving if we’re going to get back before dark.”

Turning to face your companion, you tuck the blossom behind his ear and step back to admire how the blue contrasts against his hair. The word slips out almost without you noticing. “Cute.”

It’s almost comical how quickly his face blooms red. “Guh--”

“It’s a good look.” You reassure him quickly. “Adorable. Pretty. Cute.”

“--Thanks!” He ducks past you to the bush. “I’m just going to grab a seedling for Greez. He’ll like this one.” Cal grabs one of the large pods and breaks it open, removing a seed and sticking it into the pouch on his harness. “Okay, ready.”

But you’re distracted by the red pollen that explodes in a cloud around his head, dusting him with a fine mist that leaves scarlet traces on his face and shoulders. “What’s that?” You step forward and run a finger across Cal’s poncho, collecting the dust and rubbing it between your fingertips. You hesitate, then raise your hand to your face to smell the substance. The sickly sweet scent and underlying current of spicy musk sticks in your lungs. The back of your throat tickles, and you sneeze.

An echoing sneeze draws your attention. Cal leans against the flowering bush, one arm clamped over his nose as he sneezes over and over again. He glances up at you, coughing with watery eyes, “Wha--”

A spike of dread pierces through you. ‘Stars, was it poison?’ He won’t stop coughing, a dry rattle as his body tries in vain to purge the intruding red dust. You fall to your knees beside him. Panic fills your mind, blotting out logic and reason and you place your hands on his body, intent on Force healing him even though you don’t know what is wrong with him. Then, just as suddenly as the coughing started, it stops and silence rings through the trees.

“Cal!”

You're shoving your hand underneath his poncho in an instant to feel for his heartbeat. You hold your breath. You can’t feel a pulse. You scramble to rip his poncho off completely, dragging it over his limp shoulders and head. You shove your fingers against his throat again. There!

His heartbeat flutters delicately, beating a rapid tattoo against your fingertips. You allow yourself to breath. He’s alive. But his pulse is fast, too fast. You rip open his tunic, though you’re not entirely certain what it is you’re searching for.

Just as your fingers brush over his skin, Cal bolts upright with a gasp. “Wh-- where...?”

You swear you almost pass out from the relief that slaps you across the face. “Stars, I thought you were dead. I’m so sorry about the flower bu-- mmm!”

Cal smashes his lips onto yours, pushing you onto your back with the sheer force of the kiss. His tongue dips into your mouth, searching and probing and damnit you can’t breathe when he’s this close to you, this desperate. His hips jerk against yours with an unpracticed, aborted motion, dragging a very prominent erection against your body that makes you jerk back in surprise.

You push him away from him for a second, propping yourself up on your elbows as you search his face for some indication of… you don’t know what. But this isn’t like him. “Cal, what--?”

“Need you.” He groans, his hands roaming over your body without fear or shame and inspiring a wave of pleasure as he squeezes your breasts. “Maker, you feel so good. Smell so good.” You bite back a moan. This really isn’t the time, not in the middle of an Imperial occupied forest. But to be completely honest, he feels really good too.

You’d imagined this before. Well, not these exact circumstances, but the idea of being under Cal. You’d imagined the feeling of his hands scraping over your skin and squeezing your body wherever he would like. You’d imagined his lips on yours, and other places for sure. But you’d really only ever been able to envision Cal as a gentle lover, all quiet moans and hesitant movements and unsure expressions. But this rougher side? You moan raggedly against Cal’s mouth as he shoves a thigh between your legs, rubbing up against your clothed sex. This is amazing.

Streaks of heat flash through your body, converging between your legs. Everything is amplified, the sounds around you, the grass beneath your knees, the blueness of the sky overhead. But it all seems to pale when your attention lands on Cal, who’s more flushed than earlier. You feel the heat beneath your skin too, but he’s got to have it worse right now, because you’re not the one sweating like you’re stranded on a desert planet. Maker, the pollen was some kind of--

His name escapes your lips in a tiny whisper that morphs into a moan halfway through. You allow your head to fall back, and it thunks against the spongy moss across the ground, knocking you back to the present. Cal’s lost in you, his nose buried in the crook of your neck as he ruts weakly against your thigh.

You shake off the haze clouding your mind, crisis mode kicking into full gear. You have no comms, one horny Jedi, and a completely hopeless sense of direction. “Cal. We have to move.”

He whines high in the back of his throat. “No.” It’s almost pleading, but there is an undercurrent of steel that makes you pause.

“Cal. We’re out in the open. Troopers co-- could--” Stars, you can feel the lust pumping under your skin, so close to the surface that it could burst out at any second. But fear hovers on the edge of your mind, pressing in and suppressing the need to jump Cal and reminding you of the certain torture and death that would occur if you were caught.

Cal doesn’t seem to have any of the same restraints as you. His fingers are carding through your hair, “Just wanna feel you. Maybe more.” His teeth latch into your neck, and the dull pain pierces through the haze more firmly.

He got dosed more heavily with the pollen. You resist the urge to curse as you gently detangle from Cal and sit up, biting back a sigh of relief as his teeth leave your skin. “We have to find shelter.” You begin to look around, but all you can see is the forest. You need something better, a place where you can figure out what exactly is wrong with Cal. You try to stand.

“Noooo…” This isn’t going to work. You actually do curse this time. How are you supposed to find effective shelter while dragging a full grown man around hostile territory without compromising stealth, all while your libido is cottoning to the edge of your mind, clouding your judgment?

“Come here…” Cal’s arm wraps around your neck, dragging you back down to the ground even as you try to stand. Okay that’s enough.

“You’ll forgive me later, Cal.” You press your thumb to his forehead and concentrate. His skin is dry and burning to your touch, and your brow scrunches. That’s going to be an issue. You reach to tap into the Force, but you pause. Your Force connection is… foggy. That’s the only way you can describe it in words, but it’s muted and dimmer than usual.

Your Jedi Master taught you a metaphor for using the Force: a barrier exists between you and access to the Force. It’s a wall, and your mind must become like a sharpened sword to pierce through and reach the Force. You can feel the barrier, just as always, but it’s like a second layer exists around it. If the normal barrier is made of thin glass, the new layer is crafted from paper; it’s strange, and thicker than usual, but still easily pierced with extra… force if you can say that without making yourself laugh at the pun. You summon the strength and press your mental sword forward through the barrier.

Rest. Cal’s eyes roll back in his head and he falls asleep with a gentle exhale. He relaxes against you, and you relax in turn when you see the pained lines smooth out of his forehead. Jedi healing includes your own personal anesthesia on demand. It will keep him under for a little bit, though you can’t tell what kind of effect the pollen will have on the Force sleep.

Through some feat of the stars themselves, you struggle to your feet. Cal’s arm is looped around your neck, and you want nothing more than to just sink down to the ground again and give into the weakness and lust pulling at your legs, coaxing you to collapse and take your pleasure. And stars, Cal’s heavier than you expected him to be.

But you shake yourself awake. Can’t get distracted. You glance at Cal’s drooping head. He’s been strong for you this entire time. The least you can do is be strong now and find some shelter. But where?

Voices filter through the trees, and your head jerks up towards the sources.

“Yeah, she told me to take the bucket off, or she would charge the full payment and…” Stormtroopers. Kriffing hell.

“Come on.” You hiss underneath your breath. You gather your legs underneath your body and push. Your muscles scream in pain, but they ultimately obey and you stumble to your feet and begin to move away from the approaching voices. Cal is dead weight over your shoulders, pulling and urging you to rest. It would be so easy to give in, to sink back to the ground and let Cal do what he wants.

The trees blur together as you move through the forest. The stormtroopers’ voices are getting louder and you grit your teeth. You don’t know their patrol route. How are you going to avoid them? All you can do is place one foot in front of the other. Then the mossy ground turns to stone underneath your feet, and you slow. Caves. Perfect.

You hurry inside, fatigued legs forgotten in your relief. There’s a bend directly beyond the mouth of the cave, and you gently lay Cal against the wall. You’re completely hidden from anyone looking from the entrance. You sit opposite him, your head falling forward to sag against your chest. Now what?

Your comm unit is busted, and Cal’s is sitting back on the Mantis, so you can’t contact the crew. You hold a hand to Cal’s forehead. His temperature is getting worse. You don’t know what infected him, so your Force healing is out of the question. The only bright spot is you’re pretty sure the stormtroopers won’t find you. They’re not exactly recruited for their brains, and you’ll be able to sense their muted Force signatures if they get close.

Speaking of…

You trail off, contemplating Cal’s unconscious face. His head sags against the rock wall and there’s a line of drool leaking out of the corner of his mouth. His brow is finally relaxed, his breathing deep and even and it strikes you that this is the most peaceful you’ve ever seen him.

You reach out through the Force. It has become a habit for you, Merrin, and Cal to find peace in each others’ Force signature. Whether nightmares or difficult missions, the others would be there as a silent comfort.

Merrin’s is a mixture of whites and creams swirling against a dark maroon background. When she uses her Force magic, there is an unmistakable green tinge through it. Hers is powerful, with a sense of underlying safety in her strength. True to form, Merrin has been a protector figure in the Mantis.

But Cal’s is more diverse, a blend of warm colors against a grey background with blue tinging the edge. But while the colors are chaotic, Cal keeps a firm hold on his Force presence at all times, never allowing it to surge violently from emotion. He does not suppress it completely anymore, but you know he has the ability to make it nearly disappear from the senses of another Force user. You should know, because you can do the same. Merrin grew up without fear of having to hide her Force sensitivity, but you and Cal survived the Purge. You both have firm grasps of your thoughts and emotions projected through the Force. So in Cal, you found a kindred spirit that understands you better than almost any other person in the galaxy could. You’ve become more familiar with his presence than even your Master’s before the Purge.

But now, your brow furrows as you search for his Force presence over and over, pushing into every crevice of the surrounding environment without violating his privacy. You’re not mistaken. It’s gone, almost as if he has been turned into a droid before your eyes. Every living thing has a Force presence, no matter how minute. But Cal’s comforting whirl of light is gone, vanished as though he is no longer connected to the--

Cal’s eyes fly open and he sits forward with a quiet gasp. You jump. It’s worn off then. You secure his body with the Force, holding him loosely so as not to cause any lasting damage. You would have to tackle the Force connection problems later.

“I need you to focus.” He pushes against the bonds with a whimper, and you bite your lip as you struggle to hold him still.

“Cal!” Your Force bind tightens, and he stills with a grunt. “Talk to me. Fight through it.”

He shakes his head, eyes screwed shut. “Hurts.”

“What hurts?”

“Every-- ah! Everything. Can’t-- can’t th-think. Only thing-- makes it better… you.”

What? Your concentration lapses and the bonds loose. He lunges forward and buries his nose into your neck again, inhaling you as his hands scrabble at your clothes. “Hurts less with you. Smell so good--soft. Please?”

Stars, you can’t think straight with him touching you like this. You bite back a moan as his hands roughly squeeze your breasts through your shirt. Surely, it wouldn’t hurt to give in. Just for a little. Indulge, and then you can figure out a way back to the Mantis. Then Cal raises your shirt and licks a long stripe up your neck, and that’s all the convincing you need.

You melt into his mouth, your hands running under his shirt and harness. His chest is just as feverishly hot as his forehead, but you can’t bring yourself to care when he swings a leg over yours so he’s hovering over you, knees planted on either side of your body. His hands shove your shirt over your head before setting to work on the button of your pants. You raise your hips to allow him to pull your pants under your butt. Your own hands yank at his clothes, silently begging him to strip with you.

But he doesn’t. He kneels between your legs and pulls your underwear to the side, exposing your wet folds.

“Cal--!” You’re cut off as he drags his tongue over your pussy, flicking against your clit at the end. Your stomach muscles contract, and it’s all you can do to keep quiet as he licks deep into your core.

---

The world is blurred. It’s like something crawled into his head and messed with his brain, dragging his focus away from more important issues… he can’t seem to remember right now. He can’t even feel the Force. His connection is compromised, the colors of the world are off, and there’s this bone deep ache within his body urging him closer to you. And as he’s drinking in your taste, the pain subsides and he can breathe again.

What is this? What’s happening to him? It has to be the pollen, it has to be its effect on his body, that’s why he’s lost all control over his mind and self. It’s why he can’t hold himself back from your body and you.

You’re all he can focus on; you’re so beautiful writhing under him as he tastes you. He’s never done this before. He can’t figure out why he hasn’t done this sooner, because you taste amazing right now and how you sound as he slides his tongue through your folds is doing things to him that he’s never experienced before.

His hips are dragging against the floor unintentionally. The friction of his dick against the rough material of his pants is a small slice of heaven, and he whimpers at the pure electricity spreading down his spine. He doesn’t want this to end so soon, but his body is shoving him towards the edge of release and the relief he knows is going to come with it.

---

A moan keens high in the back of your throat as Cal’s mouth presses against your soaked core. It’s sloppy and clumsy, but Maker if he doesn’t make up for it with enthusiasm. The only sounds coming from him are tiny moans and grunts and you shudder as his fingers dig into the pillowy flesh of your thighs, leveraging them apart and holding them there firmly. Of their own will, your hips roll up into his face, chasing after his touch.

You’re completely unprepared for Cal to growl when you do so. His grip tightens, and you squeak as your thighs are spread even farther apart and his mouth completely envelopes your clit.

Is this what heaven feels like? You can barely manage coherent thought when his tongue is devastating you like this, but thequestion rotates around your lust dumb brain as your toes curl and your back arches. Your release rushes up and sweeps you away, your core clenching as waves of pleasure wash over your body. You hear Cal whine as you cum, and you hear your own moans as you ride out your orgasm.

---

Stars, why hadn’t he done this sooner? The sounds that he’s pulling out of you right now could make him come in his pants on the spot, and the taste of your release has him rutting against the ground all the more insistently as he chases his own high.

But he doesn’t want to come in his pants, he wants to be inside of you. He wants you, your body squeezing tight around him, to feel the wetness seeping around his tongue rather than tasting it, even if it tastes divine.

He grabs your hips and yanks you down so your crotch is flush to his. He nearly loses his mind when your soaked core meets the bulge in his pants. Fuck, he thought he could wait, but he can’t.

But--something is still off with the world’s coloring. Where is the Force? The comforting pressure is gone from the back of his mind, the constant reminder of balance that keeps him in tune with his emotions and surroundings. Panic edges around the perimeter of his mind. In an act of desperation, he reaches for the Force, searching for the whispers of memories that accompany his world. They’re gone. Where did they go?

You whisper his name again, and this time his eyes meet yours.

---

You watch Cal carefully. He’s flushed, trembling as he hovers over your body, hands bare centimeters away from your skin. His eyes are desperate, and you can feel the pain in them as clearly as if it was your own. A bead of sweat tracks down his temple to soak into the collar of his harness, and he fumbles to rip the rest of his clothing off, discarding it on the floor as though it burned against his flesh.

“Cal.” He looks back at you. “Take what you need.”

It’s all the permission he needs. Relief and something else flashes through his eyes before he looks back down and fumbles with his pants fastening. His cock is flushed dark red, and his hands tremble as he pulls it out of his pants, jaw clenched as he lines up with your entrance. He slides into you with a bone-deep sigh of relief, and you cry out at the stretch. Every inch sparks pure electricity up your spine, and your eyes roll back in your head. He bottoms out, and for a heart stopping moment you feel a connection to him you couldn’t describe in words. Your hips roll against his, grinding the head of his cock up against something heavenly. Light explodes behind your eyes at the movement, arching your back and curling your toes.

Cal chokes, a beautiful sound you’ve only heard a few times before; the one that sounds like its been pulled from the deepest parts of his being, like he’s just ascended to another plane above the physical. It’s gorgeous and so insanely hot you’re completely unprepared for his sudden movement when he lunges forward.

Cal’s hand shoots out and presses against your neck, effectively pinning your upper body to the hard ground. You inhale shakily through your nose, but his grip does nothing more than hold you. You can still breathe, but the pressure on your throat sends a shock of heat between your legs with the reminder of the control you just relinquished.

“Stop that.” His other arm slams onto the stone beside your head, and your eyes lock. Cal’s pupils are blown, so dark you can almost see your reflection in the dim light of the cave as he glares down at you.

He doesn’t give you time to respond before he drags his hips away from yours, inch by painstaking inch and rocks back into your body with an easy roll of his hips. He exhales gently as he bottoms back out inside of you, a low moan rumbling out of his throat when he reaches that same depth within your heat.

It’s the eye of a storm; a hurricane you hadn’t known you’d entered. He rocks back and forth again, only there’s fractionally more force and speed to the motion this time. Again, and your body shakes with the force. Another, and you have to bite your lip to stifle the scream when he slams back into your body. It’s like the tide, coming in gradually, but more and more with each passing moment. The force swells, each thrust pushing into you a little harder and making your body shake a little more with each thrust.

A shuddering groan rumbles out of him as he finds the rhythm. The hand not pressed delicately around your throat slams down on the rock next to your head. When you look up towards the cave ceiling, Cal’s flushed skin and tousled hair fills your vision.

His hair, which is usually swept out of his eyes. Cal’s hair has always been so well cared for, usually brushed and slicked back so it doesn’t dangle in his eyes. Now, it’s soaked with sweat and falling into his face as he stares down at you like you’re the only star in the sky.

---

Take what you need? Holy stars, he can barely think enough to comprehend it, but some inner part of him aches at the sentence.

As soon as he realized his heart jumped every time you smiled at something, or that his brain short circuited at the sound of your laugh, he’d sworn he would keep it under wraps. He’d promised himself he would wait until after the galaxy finishes imploding and collapsing around your heads. The first time he’d jerked off to the idea of your body, he vowed to satisfy himself with his hand until it was safe. He’d wait until after the holocron is safe and there’s nothing to worry about, because relationships are messy and complicated and--

Fuck, he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about that promise, because how can he regret being balls deep in you while you’re whining and squirming underneath him, when you look at him with such trust even as he pins you to the floor by your throat? His eyes gravitate to the mark on your neck, red and irritated with the indent of his teeth, and he feels his cock twitch even as he continues to pound into you. He likes that.

The promise didn’t keep his eyes from wandering to your face at any opportunity. It didn’t prevent the pressure in his chest from growing over the weeks and months. It definitely didn’t keep Cere and Greez from noticing, and that was a conversation he would rather have scrubbed from his mind.

Take what you need. That one sentence is spinning his world on its metaphorical finger. Take what you need. As if he didn’t want it, but he needed to do it. In all honesty, it had really felt like he was going to die. The burning in his throat that caused the coughing fit, then the racing heart and the overheating; he thought he wasn’t going to make it unless he--

Well, unless he fucked you.

But even if he needs it, he wants it even more, had wanted it for too long. But everytime an opportunity presented itself, he pulled back. He remembers how he threw away the flowers he gathered on the mission instead of bringing them back to you on the Mantis. He remembers every time he denied spending time with you, because his emotions were too raw and close to the surface, and he couldn’t predict his control over his own tongue. Because he didn’t think he could have handled it if you didn’t want him back.

But you had offered to help. Maybe you’d wanted it too, because the whole galaxy could be shoving you in one direction and you would defy it. Nothing can make you do anything you didn’t want to, and that applies to Cal Kestis too.

---

Your orgasm swells up sharp and sudden, gripping you in its claws and shoving you into the attack of muscle spasms and searing pleasure that punches into your abdomen. Your body arches, accidentally hitting your head against the ground.

Cal’s rhythm stutters and his hips jerk forward. His hand leaves your throat as he drops to his forearms. His head drops down to press against yours gently, even as he whimpers and continues to grind forward into your soaking heat.

“Fuck.” Cal gasps, eyelids fluttering rapidly. “Fuck. ‘M gonna cum.”

There’s no time to respond before he’s drawing up and tensing against you. His hips piston in and out once, then he’s cumming and all you can do is lie there and take it. Fuck that’s hot.

You can feel him spilling into you, every warm spurt of cum and every twitch of his cock as he spends himself. Even better is the drawn out groan that trails into his upper register, ending in a tiny whimper. The tension drains out of his face and he sags down, sweaty skin pressed against yours. His arms wrap around your body and he hoists your limp body up as he rolls over. He sits against the wall of the cave, seating you on his lap, cock still firmly buried inside you.

You allow your head to sag back against his shoulder, relishing in the feeling of his body pressed so closely to yours. His hand paws weakly at the fabric of your shirt, and you raise your arms to slide it off. It’s better like this, skin to skin contact seems to calm him down. He buries his nose into your bare neck and mumbles something you can’t make out.

You nudge your head against his gently, “Hm?”

“Thank you.” His lips ghost over the delicate juncture between your neck and shoulder. “Thank you thank you thank you...” He continues to mutter the phrase into your skin, tickling your skin as he nuzzles closer to you.

You should say something. Confess, maybe, everything you’ve been hiding. “Cal, I--” You shift slightly, and something feels off. You furrow your brow and glance downwards at your joining point, “Cal are you still hard?”

He props his chin on your shoulder. “Uh--” He thrusts shallowly up into you, and you stifle a whimper. “Ye-yeah. Sorry?”

“N--” You gasp as his cock twitches. “No. Don’t be sorry. Do you need to go again?” Arousal stirs in your core again, burning a slow path through your nerves and reigniting the flames that had dulled to embers. Your breath catches in your chest and you grind your hips back into his.

“I--I think so.” His voice is strained and his breath comes in short gasps next to your ear. “Not-- not as-- as bad though.”

“That--ah!” Cal chooses that exact moment to pick a spot on your neck and latch on. He nips at the skin before soothing it with his tongue. His hands, roughened with callouses from his saber, climbing, and tinkering, scrape over your skin with just the right amount of friction. You bite your bottom lip. “That’s fine. Should I move?”

His hands find your hips and hold you firmly in place. That’s a no then. His hips rock up into yours gently, and you feel your cheeks warm at the wet sounds of your combined release. Cal grunts, “Let me.”

So you do. You lie back against his bare chest and just take what he gives you, whimpering whenever he brushes against that spot inside you that sends electricity up your spine. You’re gripping his arms so hard you’re sure he’s going to have bruises in the shape of your fingers.

---

Stars, you’re fucking perfect. Just lying here and giving yourself to him. He can feel the Force dimly, but it’s there. The pollen is leaving his system as he slowly fucks you on a cave floor in the middle of a dense forest while stormtroopers patrol outside.

You cry out with his next thrust, the head of his cock striking something inside of you that must feel good because you clench around him and--

Did you just come again?

The additional lubrication only increases the lewd squelch with every thrust, the mixture of his cum and yours only making sliding in and out of your channel easier. He can still feel the effects of the pollen at the back of his mind, and it keeps him hard and sensitive as he continues to fuck you.

He’s aware he should be at least a little worried about the implications, starting at the top with how he’s going to complete the mission and ending with what exactly fucking on a cave floor means for your relationship. Somewhere in the middle is the stormtroopers and the pollen, and the oath of the Jedi Order forbidding relationships. But he can’t grasp it.

Even if there are more pressing concerns, all he can do right now is continue pushing his hips up into your soaking core painstakingly slowly. He wants to enjoy this while he can, while he’s able to fool himself that you want him back. Unless…

---

The only solace you could find in the situation was that you could have Cal, even for these few short moments. Because as much as you may want to convince yourself, a tiny voice inside your head keeps whispering: it’s all the pollen. That’s the only reason why he wants you. And you force yourself to believe the voice, because it’s easier to block off any chance for pain and rejection.

But you know you’re in trouble the second Cal opens his mouth. The words are a harsh whisper, rasping out of his dry throat into your ear, “Beautiful. So gorgeous, giving me what I need, what I want.”

You arch against him and stifle the whimper rising in the back of your throat. His mouth is right next to your ear, so there isn’t anywhere for you to escape from the words that rumble into your brain; words you try to convince yourself are empty. You shove your hand against your mouth rather than allow any sound to escape.

He moans, “Want to do this again. Don’t want this to be just once.”

“Th--that--that’s the pollen talking.” You gasp when you feel his fingers graze over your clit, your own hand drifting back to latch into his hair.

Cal hisses when you tug with a little more strength than necessary, but he doesn’t tell you to stop. One hand supports your weight as he moves you up and down on his dick, the other rubbing little circles around your clit. His hips make up for the lost strength everytime they drive up into you at the lowest point of the rhythm, squelching with every thrust.

“Not--not the pollen. All you. All me.”

You blink, all temporarily forgotten when the words register in your hazy mind. “...What?”

“Wanted this. Wanted this for a while.” Cal finds your clit with his fingers, and you can’t prevent the way your legs jerk and your body seizes against his.

Fuck you’re going to cum. If the first orgasm was a flashfire, this one is a slowly simmering blaze. It creeps up slowly, burning a hole through your abdomen, curling around your ribs and inching down your legs. Your eyes roll back, and your head falls back against Cal’s shoulder.

“Cal. I--I thi--” You try to warn him, you really do. But words aren’t forming correctly right now, and it’s all you can do to hunker down and try to prepare yourself for this truly devastating crest that’s preparing to launch you over the edge.

If Cal gets your warning, he doesn’t show it. All he does is turn his head to the side, press a light kiss to your cheek, and groan, “I think I love you.”

Oh shit. Cal’s timing couldn’t have been more perfect if he planned it. Before you can respond, hell, before you can even begin to fucking process that last sentence, you’re coming hard. Maybe it’s the whiff of pollen you got earlier, or the fact that Cal is the one fucking you so sweetly and thoroughly, or the thrill of being mere steps away from discovery, or a combination of all of it, but this orgasm certainly feels like the most intense of your life.

Spasms ripple outward through your belly, curling you up in Cal’s lap as you ride out your high. Your legs straighten and your toes curl and you clamp down hard around Cal’s cock.

Cal shouts raggedly in your ear, pulling your body close. But even as you whimper and shake on the end of his cock, you remember that you can’t make too much sound.

As if he heard you, Cal burrows his face into your shoulder, his teeth once again finding a place in your skin to muffle his voice as he cums deep inside you once more. His body shakes as he spends himself again, the spasms slowly subsiding with every jerk of his hips into yours.

‘I did hear you.’ There’s a tinge of amusement to the nonexistent voice that echoes in your mind, and you relax back against Cal.

‘Feeling better?’ You nudge him back through the Force, revelling in the feeling of his colorful presence swirling around you once again. The pollen has worn off.

He doesn’t say anything in response, only pulls you close with his arms around you. His mind pushes at yours, and you let him in. You’ve done this a million times, usually on the tail end of nighttime panic attacks, but this time is different. This is the most loose he has ever been with his Force presence, and you allow it to fill the empty parts of your mind. Wait, he loves you?

He rushes over you in the same way the tide comes back to land, calming your fear at finally understanding the weight of his last confession. He’s relaxed, and the familiar energy has a new angle to it, a new emotion you hadn’t felt before in another’s Force signature. You grasp it gently, turning it over and admiring it in the eye of your mind. What is it?

The answer rushes to you just as Cal mutters against your skin, “Love.” The same thing you’d been feeling in the pit of your heart every time you looked at Cal, everytime he kept you safe from the nightmares in his arms and stayed with you until morning, every time you made him tea and did maintenance on his gear after a tough mission.

“I love you.”

You blink up at the ceiling of the rock cave, mouth open with the words just on the tip of your tongue. But they won’t come. The words are stuck in your throat, and try as you might, you can’t make yourself say them.

“Hey.” Cal whispers in your ear, and you shut your mouth. “You don’t have to say it back. But you know that I do, and I know a little of what’s going on up here.” His finger taps the side of your head lightly. "You don't have to figure out where to go from here. I'll navigate."

‘Thank you.’ You send the words through the Force, and he acknowledges them. Yeah, you're shit at knowing where to go when it comes to feelings. But at least with Cal, you won't have to worry about getting lost alone. You sit in peaceful silence for a few minutes, before a thought occurs to you.

“Cal.” His name is little more than a weak rasp off your tongue. You clear your throat and try again. “Cal.”

He grunts unintelligibly.

“Don’t bring that seed back to the Mantis.”

A/N: I will be the first to admit that this fic was hard, because I wanted to incorporate some previous feelings into this to make it less dubcon, and I didn't feel that all plot holes were filled. But that didn't make this any less enjoyable for me, and it was fun to explore a new facet of Cal's character.

Thanks for everyone who gave me inspiration and motivation to keep pushing this through the old brain up here. Smut isn't the easiest for me:)

Taglist: @alliterative-albatross

[luna-writes-stuff]

Motion Sickness, Xu Shangqi

Yes, I wrote this out self projection. I myself have a very weak stomach and can therefor very easily and quickly catch motion sickness.

For those interested about what motion sickness is and what it means for me: Quick story of it, my stomach cannot stand a lot of motion, especially when my brain is unaware of the direction my body is moving in. I get nauseous and light headed and just feel the bile rising up in my throat. So when I go on long car rides for vacation and I cannot see the navigation, I could easily throw up in the car in a matter of seconds. When I sit on the wrong side of the car, I get sick. When I look anywhere else but outside in the car, I get sick. When the car is taking turns instead of driving straight ahead, I get sick. It’s really annoying and it’s still something I struggle with a lot. I get it on amusement rides, rollercoasters, boats; even when I just move around to quickly or too much. So when I was watching that scene in Shang-Chi where they drive to Ta Lo, all I could think about was how terrible I would’ve been in that situation. And it inspired me to write this (stupid as it may sound.) Yes, I am aware there is medication for this, but it happens a lot of the times and would I keep using and buying it, I would spend way more money than I actually need to. I only use it for long car rides and boat trips.

Fanfic, female! reader

Fluff, bit of angst

Tw: SPOILERS, motion sickness, description of nausea, lightheadedness, description of vomiting, rising temperature, half consciousness, self projected, description of losing consciousness (but not really), Shang-Chi being worried, established relationship, use of Y/N. Also, I could not find the script anywhere, so half of the dialogue is probably wrong.

Summary: When escaping Wenwu’s home, you join the ride to Ta Lo, even as you are aware that you get severe motion sickness in cars and most definitely will end up throwing up later. Shang-Chi knows this and tries to help, but you can’t talk nausea out of someone. Upon arriving in Ta Lo, you’re barely conscious and Shang-Chi gets concerned.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Shang-Chi asked, as you sat outside the car you just escaped in.

The ride from Wenwu’s home had been difficult to say the least. You got very nauseous in car rides, and you knew that, yet you wanted to be there for Shang-Chi when he would travel to his mother’s village. It was already clear it was not going to be an easy journey, but you insisted on joining the ride.

At the moment, you were catching some fresh air after the eventful car ride earlier. You forced your nausea down, smiling up at Shang-Chi.

“Oh yeah. I’ll be fine.” You assured, standing up and taking a deep breath in.

“You know you don’t have to come along.” He tried again, but you ignored his offer.

“I said I’ll be fine.” You insisted, walking back towards the car. Shang-Chi let out a sigh of defeat before opening the door to the passenger seat.

“Actually, Trevor was going to sit there. Seeing as he kind of holds the information and stuff.” Katy said, gesturing towards the man behind you two.

“He can do that from the back.” Shang-Chi said, but you shoo’d him, opening the door behind the passenger seat.

“I can sit here too.” You announced, sitting down before your boyfriend could say anything about it.

“Y/N-“ “Don’t Y/N me.” You interrupted. “If I get sick, it’s my own damn fault.”

He groaned before stepping in on the other side, his sister seated between the two of you.

“Is something wrong?” She asked, looking towards you with a worried glance.

“She gets sick in car rides.” Shang-Chi announced, putting on his seatbelt.

“Don’t worry.” You reassured her, “If I’m going to throw up, I’m going to aim for Shang-Chi. You’ll be fine.”

“You’re going to throw up?” She questioned, frowning at the statement.

“I’ll try not to, if it’s any consolation to you.” You offered, throwing off your jacket before bundling it up and letting it rest on your lap, holding it against your stomach lightly.

“I hope you’re strapped in. Morris tells us we need to leave now.” Trevor announced, simultaneously making Katy push the gas.

As you’re driving, Katy keeps a steady pace, causing a feeling of relief to wash through you. If this was going to be the pace you’d keep during the ride, nothing could really go wrong.

In front of the car, the trees suddenly started to separate, creating a road for Katy to drive on. You gasped at the sight, having never seen anything like it before.

“This is so cool.” Katy quietly awed. You hummed in agreement, staring at the greens out of the window.

“Morris says you might want to speed up.” Trevor announced, looking at the rearview mirror. Katy followed his look, before letting a curse word slip and speeding up. All three of you in the back quickly looked behind, eyes widening at the sight of the trees closing back.

You turned around the second you saw what was happening, not ready to move forward while looking back.

“Take a left.” Trevor instructed.

“When?” Katy wondered, sparing the man a single glance.

“Now!” He ushered.

Katy took a sharp turn at his words, causing you to immediately grab hold of the handle on the door. Xialing and Shang-Chi both fell towards your side, not having prepared for the turn. You let out a little chuckle at the sight of them, but stopped as the familiar feeling of nausea hit you again.

“Right!” Trevor instructed. Yet again, Katy listened to him, taking a sharp right turn as the woods split into two again.

You had yet to let go of the handle, but you figured it might the closest thing you’d get to grounding at the moment. You felt Shang-Chi’s eyes drill holes into your head, but you refused to look at him. Instead, you kept you eyes on the window outside, knowing shooting your glance anywhere else might lead to some unfortunate consequences.

“Right again!” And at those words, the car stumbled around. Your stomach started feeling heavy as your head grew lighter, but you refused to acknowledge it, silently wishing for it to be over soon. You knew what would happen. You brought this upon yourself and you had no one to blame but yourself. You were in this now and you would not complain about it.

“Left!”

The next turn came completely unexpected to you, causing you to lose grip of the handle and the jacket on your lap, your hands trying to hold onto the seat in front of you.

As the car was on a straight line again, Shang-Chi quickly leaned over, grabbing your jacket and handing it to you, before opening your window slightly, allowing fresh air to fill the car. He shot you a silent look before returning to his seat.

“Drive faster!” Trevor urged, looking in the rearview mirror again. The forest seemed to close in behind you in an even faster rate now.

Katy just followed his lead, pushing the gas pedal down all the way. The car was hurled forward as your stomach began to flip. You leant your head against the window, your jacket pressed tightly against your stomach.

“Right!” Trevor yelled, the wind that blew into the car now becoming louder than his voice.

As Katy followed his directions, your clothes began to uncomfortably cling to your body, your hair slowly sticking to your forehead. You felt the bile rising up your throat, but you swallowed it back down, knowing there was no way of stopping now.

As Trevor kept shouting instructions, you began to wonder when this maze would end. It had been more terrible than you predicted. Perhaps the nausea of the earlier car-ride still lay heavy on your stomach, which only increased with the current journey. Or maybe the fact that there were no blinkers or navigation used, made your brain confused and uncomfortable, leaving you with a sickening feeling. Perhaps it was a combination of both.

Had this been a bad idea?

Definitely.

Would you ever confess it?

Never.

“Close the window!” Trevor yelled to Katy, holding his hands over his ears.

“Do not close the window!” Shang-Chi shot after him, holding his hand beside Katy’s seat, leaving her unable to access the window buttons.

Your head rested against the backside of the chair in front of you, trying to keep the dizziness at bay, but with every following turn, you felt that uncomfortable substance rising back up. Your head felt too light to lift it now, but your stomach forced you to keep it up before everything would come back out.

You let your head fall towards the window, keeping it up in order to swallow everything down again. The sour feeling stung your throat, nearly making you gasp in uneasiness, but you did your best not to show it. The open window that provided you with fresh air, had begun to lose its purpose, now only filling you with a loud pounding in the ears, every other word suddenly passing by unheard. It wasn’t until you felt a warm hand on the one that clung to your jacket, that you moved your head.

Before even looking, you knew it was Shang-Chi, but there was little he could do for you now. He didn’t say anything. Instead, he held out a bottle of cold water and a plastic bag. You gratefully took the offer, taking small sips from the bottle before placing the plastic bag on top of your jacket, just in case things would go sideways.

Your hands had grown all warm and soggy, nearly gliding off of the fabric. Your shirt was now nearly glued to your back. The hair you had refused to put up earlier was now suffocating your neck with a heat attack. You could feel the sweat of it fall down your body, making you move uncomfortably in your seat. A sharp ringing filled your ears, your vision showing black dots from time to time.

The car increased its speed suddenly. You had no idea what was happening, but you closed your eyes, not willing to look outside anymore. You needed your focus on your body, trying so desperately to maintain it.

Katy’s screaming disturbed the ringing in your ears as you felt an annoying banging against your brain.

And just like that, the car stopped moving. Heavy breathing was heard all around the car, but you had yet to open your eyes. The nauseating feeling was far from over. You figured it was best to continue driving before you would have to experience everything again.

“Everyone okay?” Katy asked, which went answered by multiple hums.

“Morris says to go right through there.” The man in front of you announced.

“Through the waterfall?” Katy asked incredulously.

“Yes.” Was the simple answer.

And then, the car was moving again. You heard the window beside you shut, but you made no intention to open your eyes yet.

“Y/N?” You heard Shang-Chi ask, but you ignored him, waving your hand towards him in a “let it go” manner.

How long the car had been driving afterwards, you did not know. You didn’t look outside, the earlier trip still heavy on your stomach. It wasn’t until the car suddenly stopped, that your stomach decided enough was enough, and resorted to throwing everything out.

You were hunched over the bag in your hands, the vomit slowly leaving your throat, much to your discomfort. You felt two gentle, yet unfamiliar hands wrap around your hair before tying it in a simple pony tail.

Your body felt as if it was on fire, your shirt definitely drenched by now. You tried to catch your breath, but you threw yourself back over the bag before you knew it. A second round falling out just as terrible as the first one.

You could hardly comprehend the door beside you opening, followed by a hand slowly, but steadily rubbing your back. You kept yourself above the bag, even though you were fairly sure you were done now. You began tying it, but it was taken from you before you could grab the ends.

As you unbuckled yourself and stood back up, black spots appeared in your vision again, making you stumble outside, before forcing you to sit down, your back against the car.

“Babe, can you hear me?” You faintly heard, making you hum silently, leaning your head against the car too, your eyes closing again.

“Are you okay?” He asked again, the voice now nearer.

“I just threw up twice. What do you think?” You mumbled.

Your statement went ignored, a soft hand being placed on top of your head instead.

“You’re burning up.” He remarked, untying your hair and wrapping it in a bun instead, making you sigh in relief.

“Give me a few minutes.” You stated quietly.

“Can you give me that bottle of water?” You followed up in a whisper. It was quiet for a moment before you felt the cold bottle back in your hands. You finished it quickly, handing it back when you were done.

“Do you need anything else?” He wondered again, his hand softly touching your cheek.

“A cold shower.” You mustered out, throwing your head forward, making it rest against Shang-Chi’s chest. “And a few painkillers.”

A low chuckle escaped his throat as his hand rested on your back, making you since slightly at the hot and sweaty shirt now being pushed against your body.

“Can you move yet?” He whispered patiently, letting you go, though he allowed your head to keep resting against him.

“Give me a moment.” You muttered, one of your hands falling to your stomach as if it would calm it down.

“That’s okay.” He answered, shifting a little bit before resting his head on top of yours, one of his his hands connecting with the one that was on your stomach.

“Xialing is doing the talking anyway.” He explained, his second hand falling to your neck and stroking it affectionately.

“Tell me when to get up.” He proposed, letting you pick your time and comfort.

You hummed in response, happy to be in his arms back on solid ground. You tried turning in your position, but your body quickly show down the idea, fresh nausea returning fast.

Shang-Chi understood what you were trying to do, luckily. He grabbed your waist, carefully turning you around, making your back rest against his chest.

“You’re drenched in sweat.” He noticed aloud, though that was the only thing he did about it.

Your head fell back in the crook of his neck, making Shang-Chi smile and rest his head against yours. Your hand tried reaching for his, even though you could not see anything right now.

“You want more water?” He misunderstood, his voice vibrating through his chest.

You just shook your head lightly, grabbing his arm and letting your hand slide down it until your hand connected with his. He squeezed it in comfort, before wrapping his arms around your body, holding you against him tightly, your hands toying with his fingers.

“I’m tired.” You whispered. “Do you mind if I fall asleep right here?”

Once more, Shang-Chi chuckled. “Of course not, babe.”

“Thank you.” You mumbled, sinking into his arms, nausea slowly subsiding as your mind finally drifted off.

You were glad he had been understanding, instead of cocky and full of himself at the moment. He did not mention your stubbornness earlier or your stupid comments. And you were thankful for that. You were far too tired or nauseous to deal with these comments now. They’d have to wait until tomorrow morning. Besides, a cold shower was next on the agenda, whether Ta Lo had that or not.

Taglist: @wlfstxr

[subwaysurf45]

Winter Makes Ice (Ep.5)

Summary:  you’re captured after a brawl at the Avengers building, Bucky and others must save you before Hydra makes a new Winter Soldier out of you, Bucky has given up that title.

Words: 4344

Episode: five

Warning: violence, nudity, needles, descriptions of injury

Masterlist! Winter Makes Ice Episode: Four

Time: unknown

Date: unknown

You knew they had full control over you. There was nothing you could do even though you were conscious all the time, your body did what they wanted but your brain screamed against it. There were times where they’d ask you to do the impossible, they’d make you climb the tallest tree in the forest that surrounded the building and then make you jump down without anything to catch you, you’d land and your ankle would break; the worst was when they told you to break it back in place. 

It was like you were sat in a large chair as you watched your life unfold in the cell, your wrists were strapped to this imaginary chair so you couldn’t reach out to block the punch, ankles were clasped so you couldn’t run away. You never became lucid, it was always you watching through the shell of your body. Crying yourself to sleep wasn’t an option, you weren’t allowed to cry, or laugh, or scream, or smile; you were dead on the outside. The feeling of control was so close but yet so far away. 

There was a moment, just a moment. More I.C.E. had just been injected as you hung from the cuff restraints, you swung lightly as you dangled there. The cell door closed and the silence you were left with was getting louder by the second, your brain starting to pound like it always did and right at the back of your head near the bottom began to pulse, like you were being stabbed. The pain, hunger, exhaustion built up until that one moment, your eyes were slowly closing but as they closed you could see something right in front of you, something was moving. You couldn’t reach out to touch it because you were chained but as you crossed your eyes all you saw was a little black thing slightly swinging with you. 

It was the tip of your nose. 

Your fingers had also begun to blacken, it was about to hit your first knuckle. 

That was when you let the control fully go to the I.C.E. flowing in your veins, the power to keep yourself above water was only getting more and more tiring. No one had tried to save you so they probably were never going to come. Part of you thought Bucky would be there in less than a day, he’d break walls and towers for you, but it might have just been words to make you think he loved you, just sounds put together as a fake. 

Time: 6:10am

Date: October 3rd 2024

“Darling, It’s me, It’s Bucky, you’re safe now.” Bucky spoke softly, he flickered between your eyes and nose. You didn’t say anything, just looked right through him. “I will not fight you, but we need to get out of here, we have to go.” He urged, right when he finished talking you stepped forward, he was shocked to see you move, it was rigid and robotic. “Baby, explain what’s going on, please baby?” Bucky stepped forward and reached out, his hand lightly touched your shoulder but he studied your face as he did so. Your nose would have scrunched up but with the lack of that it was just your eyebrows that pulled together. Bucky looked around the room to try and find any sign of how to get you out of your trance; the papers he flicked through were now getting thoroughly read through. All you did was stare at him, waiting for a command. 

“Bucky, it’s all clear down here, some got away though,” Steve breathed heavily as he spoke through the coms. “There's this guy who looked to be the head and he got away, didn’t get a good look at him.” 

Bucky turned to you, “who’s the leader here?”

“No one gave their name.” You answer quickly. 

“What did he look like?” Bucky left the papers and walked to you, he grabbed a lab coat on the way to cover your scared and naked body. 

“Slick black hair. Black eyes. Heart shaped face. No facial hair. Slit through his left eyebrow. Hydra ring on his finger.” Your eyes closed as you computed the man who poured the ice water on you multiple times. “Height: six foot. Weight: around one eighty. Scars, markings, tattoos: none.” Bucky watched you in shock, “any other specifics, James?” 

“N-no, well done.” He nodded and threw the coat around you, “we’re going to leave now, okay?” Bucky took your hand and led you toward the door. 

Your feet tread silently while Bucky’s combat boots echoed three times down the grey hallway, it scared you every time he’d step. With every loud sound came a hard punch, it was a way for you to brace yourself when they’d catch you talking about your past life. As you walked closer to the doors your fingers found their way to the walls, still grey like the floor but clean, the floor was covered in dead bodies and blood from the invasion. 

The doctors and agents you knew were slumped over against the wall or splayed out in the middle of the hallways, some people’s blood had congealed while others still created a larger pool around the Hydra operatives. The smell of death didn’t read on your face but it did on Bucky’s, the smell of the inside of your cell just carried out here it seemed like. You were unaware of your smell, part of you thought it was the lack of nose but the other knew it was the lack of fresh air and being surrounded by copious amounts of blood. 

“Where to, Sergeant Barnes?” the feeling of someone holding your hand was foreign, his thumb kept swiping back and forth.

“Call me Bucky,” he looked back with sorrow in his eyes. You stopped walking and lowered your head, “what are you doing?” he asked. 

“Waiting for punishment,” you spoke softly, knowing they went easier on you if you knew you messed up. There’d be times where you’d push your luck and stare them down but once you grew tired of being tough you head would bow and you waited for the strike, it was now a reaction to any type of dissatisfactory.

“No, no punishment anymore,” his eyes filled with tears and he brought you under his arms, his lips kissed the crown of your head as he opened the doors. He kept you under his arm as he opened them, metal arm gripping right on your forearm. 

The sun was barely meeting the surface and yet you had to squint to adjust, everything had a hue of red. The grass felt foreign under your bare feet as you stepped off the tiles and into nature, your toes gripped the leaves and grass as they walked. Your lungs felt like they were about to explode with the intake of fresh air, your nose could still work but it was slightly harder to breathe, the cool wind blew into your mouth and gripped the back of your throat which made you double over to the cough. Your knee popped out of the front slit on the closed lab coat, you were used to feeling naked and vulnerable; Bucky was the one to close it again. 

Steve, Wanda, and Nat all stood by the jet.

Wanda screamed your name and ran up to you, her arms pulled you into a tight hug but you curled in and waited for the strike. She pulled away and the feeling of rigidness, “y/n?” She questioned, her hand coming to cup your cheek but you stepped back and held your hand up for protection. Wanda brought her hands into her chest, she looked between Bucky and you but Bucky just shook his head with a few tear tracks present on his face; Wanda was beginning to develop her own after she looked back at you before turning away. 

You didn’t really know why everyone was crying, “Scarlet Witch, Wanda Maximof.” your head slightly bowed, you looked over her to see the others behind her shoulder, “Captain Steve Rogers and Natasha Rominoff, a pleasure.” Their faces seemed worried and Nat looked disgusted, she brought her hand to cover her mouth as she walked up the steps to the jet. 

Wanda got your attention again, “hello, we’re going to take you home, alright?” Wanda took your hand, “do you remember me?” 

“From?” was all you said as you made it into the jet. Wanda covered sob with her hand as she turned away from you to sit beside Nat, she was also crying.

Steve didn’t even look at you, he walked straight to Bucky. Steve caught him right as Bucky’s knees were buckling, Bucky caught onto Steve and they both slowly made it to the ground. It seemed like they guided each other, both holding onto one another for dear life. It was a common understanding, grief was written on both of them. 

“She’s fucking gone, Steve!” Bucky cried into Steve’s uniform, the blue turning navy with the tears. “She called me James! She doesn’t know who I am, I can't- I don know- what did they-”

“Bucky, it’s alright,” Steve calmed him as Bucky began to hyperventilate, “we’re going to get her back, I promise.” Steve gripped onto Bucky’s shoulders and they both stood, a little wobbly but both were extremely tired and light headed. “I’ll handle everything,” they walked to the jet, “just be there for her and I figure everything else out, alright?” Steve made Bucky look at him. 

“Sure…” was all Bucky could muster. 

They all made it to the jet, you were placed in a room off to the right. Bucky went right in there to see you curled on the ground when there was an examination table in the middle of the room, he kneeled beside you and ghosted a hand down your shin to try and get your attention. 

“It’s Bucky, let’s sit up on the table, okay?” Bucky eased but you didn’t move, his eyes closed as he fought with himself. He didn’t want to abuse your injected substance, but he really needed you on the exam table to check your wounds. “On the exam table.” he didn’t speak harshly or yell, it was just Bucky’s normal tone. 

You shot up instantly and sat on the edge of the table, your legs hung off it and the lab coat was forgotten, it was still around you but it seemed you were told to be naked so often it became second nature. Bucky turned toward you and stood between your legs so he could get a good look at you, he could tell you were staring deep into his eyes, he didn’t want to look in yours yet, he wanted to look you deep in the eyes and have you pull him in for a kiss, maybe it was selfish but he needed it. 

“I’m going to do something called a head-to-toe check,” he informed but he knew you knew what this was. He slipped on the disposable gloves, “I know you have cuts and scars but I need to find active bleeding first, alright?” Bucky held up his hands to show nothing was on the gloves. “Tell me if I’m making you uncomfortable.”

“Nothing is-”

“That’s an order.” Bucky added, “I’m commanding you to tell me if you don’t want me touching somewhere,” he knew he had checked you, there might be a way you could find a loophole in his command and get him further from a checkmate but he was making progress. 

His hands gently tapped all around you, he was asking questions as he did so but you didn’t answer any of them. You were now looking straight forward, when Bucky looked to your face for any sign of his girl you’d give no hints or answer. His hands worked down to your chest, he hesitated over your breasts but you gave no indication that you were uncomfortable, when he looked for bumps, bruises, or blood he didn’t find much, just scratch marks that looked old. He did the same when he hit your waist, not a lot of touching but looking, it wasn’t thorough but he knew you wouldn’t say anything and he might trigger you again. 

His gloves weren’t picking up much, most cuts were partly healed and the bruises were very noticeable. Part of a head-to-toe check is seeing how the victim reacts to the pressure, if you tap their stomach and they flinch it could be internal bleeding or a broken rib, but you weren’t giving any sign of hurt. He knew you could feel the broken bones and the bruises but you would never tell him in the mindset you’re in. he watched for little twitches in the eye or some type of pull away from him wherever he touched, Bucky wanted to reach in and find your brain so that you could tell him what hurts; he wanted to help you so bad. 

“Do you know how long you’ve been gone?” Bucky asked as he picked up your left leg, turning and examining it. He found a deep red mark on the edge of a purple bruise on your ankle, there was the exact same one on the other and on your wrists. He pushed away your hair and moved the lab coat back to find a massive bruise with cuts all around your neck, it was impeccable your vocal chords weren’t fried after being put in that cuff contraption. 

“Gone from where?” you asked robotically, you didn’t even look at him. 

Bucky was taken back by your answer, he stumbled with his hands as he switched legs. “F-from home, y/n. Shield, home?” 

“Hydra is my home, it was where I was created.” your head turned to allow your eyes to lock with Bucky’s. 

Part of him wanted to scream and shake your head so hard it might knock a memory back in place, he wanted to tell you of your story and how you both grew. Bucky wanted to tell you about the drawings you do with Steve or the boxing in the early mornings, he wanted to overflow you with emotions but he knew they’d hit a brick wall. 

Bucky finished his exam but he needed to keep you for himself for a little longer, he pretended to check your pupils and pulse three more times but all he wanted was to feel the warmth of your skin. His eyes would catch the tip of your nose swinging as he moved you slightly, he had an entire set of questions just for that. But he just kept looking at you for no reason. He’d ask if you’re cold and you’d say no, he’d ask if you were hungry and you’d say no. he’d ask if you were thirsty, you’d say no. 

So he stopped asking, “drink this water.” He pulled the little water bottle from the back of his belt loop, the little tear drop shaped bottle fit perfectly in her hands. 

You grasped the frosted bottle, it seemed familiar to you. You never got water in your cell, you’d have to suck on the floor after the doctor left; they’d always wake you up by dumping ice water on your head. Calloused fingers gripped and felt the bottle, something was happening in your brain that you couldn't quite understand, you were feeling something deep within you. 

“Drink.” Bucky said again. 

“Wait,” you whispered, all you saw was black form shutting your eyes so tight. You didn’t see Bucky’s face as he waited to see if this water bottle would trigger something from right before you were taken, this was the water bottle you had introduced to the group. 

A picture was unfolding in your head, it was a big room with people all around. There was a couch that some were sitting on while one stood in front of them, the one standing was smiling. The people on the couch were leaned in to listen, some held their chin in their hand as they too, were also smiling. The little bottle of water you were holding was also in this picture, the one standing seemed to be presenting it like a game show host, showing it off as if it was new. The picture began to move and the people standing took a seat next to another person, they cuddled close and began whispering to each other with iggles in between. A pen made its way across the couch and ended up at the two who looked like a couple, one wrote a heart next to their name while the other did it normally. 

Your eyes shot open at the sound of the pop, you were squeezing the bottle so hard it exploded. Your eyes frantically searched around and when they landed on the other set of eyes in the room you lunged for a hug. 

“Bucky!” you screamed, “thank you!” You wrapped your arms around him so tight. Bucky hesitated before clinging to you like a life source, “I thought it would’ve taken you longer,” you sighed into his touch. 

“We left you there for too long,” Bucky whispered, his face his deep in your neck.

You pulled away with tears in your eyes, you looked to him but he kept looking down, “is there something on my nose?” you asked, Bucky was looking between your eyes and nose. Your finger went to touch but pulled away at the feeling of something dangling, “what is that?” you screamed and felt it again. 

“It’s the injection side effect, I think.” Bucky added he felt around your face to try and see if you were actually real or if this was some sick joke Wanda was playing on him. 

“What injection? They just took my blood once so far,” you shrugged and felt the back on your head, “there was a scab there before, it hurts like crazy, like a pulsing thing.'' You brought your other hand back to try and find that scab you felt what seemed like hours ago. Your hair felt dirtier than the last time you remembered, it was one big clump when you moved it.

“Sit down.” Bucky said, you moved back on the seat without a second thought.

With wide eyes you looked up to Bucky, “I didn’t want to sit...Bucky what did you do?” you asked, it looked like you were glued there as you tried to get off. 

“What day is it?” Bucky asked cautiously, his hands coming back to cup your face. 

“September twenty third, I didn’t hit my head it’s not a con-”

“It's October third.” Bucky breathed out, “oh my god…” he whispered and pulled you into another hug, he gently rubbed your back as you stayed rigid in his hold. 

The plane began to drop and Bucky knew it was just landing but with everything rushing against you like a title wave it felt like the plane was crashing. Bucky held you tight as you slashed around in his grip, pleads to any higher power you could think of to keep you alive didn’t seem to work. The plane froze and you stayed gripped to Bucky, he brought you out of the medical room. The three others just looked at you, not wanting to get their hopes up. But when you ran over to them and asked what day it was they seemed to be more disappointed, they just pulled you in for a hug and tried to calm you down like Bucky did. 

All at once medical staff open the jet doors, people rushing to you and you. Bucky was trying to cut through the crowd to get to you but medical staff were getting in the way and holding him back, he could see your frantic search for him. 

“You’re gonna trigger her, s-stop, this isn’t-”

A medical staff member flew back and knocked a few others over, everyone began to calm down and slow their moments. You were right over the person you pushed trying to help them up, apologizing profusely, they kept moving back and away from you. 

“Y-you were holding a needle, I’m sorry.” you eased. 

“Sedate her!” another yelled. 

You ran down and out of the jet to try and get away from the many needles that, what seemed like, every medical member was holding. There was just noise surrounding you, vision began to tunnel right when the pounding in your ears began, at the back of your head there seemed to be a knife stabbing you. 

“Get a gurney!” the voice cut through the shouts and chasing. 

Everything stopped and you froze from your worried state to complete your mission, someone ordered you to find a gurney, you must complete it. There was one waiting outside, you walked over with your back straight and your chin up. There was no need to look behind you shoulder but you did so anyway to make sure no threats were also in need of the gurney, everyone behind you was just still and watched you. This must be a test, after that realization you did everything quickly and efficiently to avoid punishment. 

When you brought the gurney to the voice who shouted it they told you to get on as well, Bucky was by your side and offering an arm to help get on but you didn’t take it. People were shouting orders to one another and you kept trying to get up to fulfill the command but Bucky kept holding you down. Some medical staff were trying to shove him away but he stood his ground and kept a hand holding you.

“Why do I keep wanting to do all these things?” you frantically aske as you tried to stand again.

“I’ll explain later, don’t worry,” he squeezed your hand as you made it into your exam room. Hands felt all around you, the lab coat was long forgotten so you sat on the table naked. Bucky was right against the wall and kept an eye on you, though your brain was next to scrambled eggs he could still read you like a book.

“We need to take some blood, might also need to give something to sedate her.” it was, what looked like, the head of this team that spoke.

Another picture flashed before your eyes. The needles and this blue liquid that went into you. Bucky had told you something called ‘ice’ but you didn’t know what that meant. Blood would be taken from you then without you looking, they would stick whatever serum Bucky was talking about in your arm. Voices and sounds rushed into your head as these pictures moved and changed to show that you weren’t there for as long as you thought you were, in your mind a different doctor repeated the same motions over and over and over again. You were covered in water and somebody was talking over you from inside of the cell, their voice seemed as though they too were underwater so you couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, but one part stood out. They were saying how they did this all without you noticing, how you were too confident, how you were strong and yet you’d look away from the needles when they were stuck into your arm. 

All of these people who you failed to remember that were surrounding you now, all had needles and some had already taken your blood, but you were going to be cautious now, you were going to be aware because you didn’t want to forget everything again. Before anyone could stick anything else in you, your arms flew out to the side and gripped as many syringes as you could, they were smashed to the ground and the clear liquid spilled and dripped on the floor. People were beginning to hold you down but you broke free from their dead grass pushing away the velcro straps that were about to go around your ankles and wrists.

Someone managed to get a strap on your left ankle without you noticing, that sensation of being cuffed made another picture float in your mind. It was a large metal contraption with silver Cuban links and five cuffs, two around your wrists, two around your ankles, and the final one went around your neck. Once they were all attached to you, you were suspended in the air as your entire body weight was being held up by your limbs and neck, even though only one bound was attached to you now, you could still feel the weight of all of it crashing back onto you. 

With one large tug the Velcro cuff snapped, you tried to get up and off the table to run to Bucky, he was the only one left in the room that you knew and trusted. He was also trying to make his way to you simultaneously, reading the fear etched deep into your eyes. No medical staff was trying to hold him back so he ripped through all of them and got to you quickly, you couldn’t really hear what he was saying because the pounding in your head that was pinpointed right at the back of your neck was starting to pound into your ears. But you could make out his lips that were moving, you can remember faintly kissing them, the feeling was on the tip of your tongue but you couldn’t quite make out what it really felt like. He was telling you it was going to be okay, at one point he said that you could sleep now and that he’d be there when you wake up, you really didn’t want to trust him but you were so tired and your head hurt so bad.

You didn’t even see or feel the syringe plunge deep into the crook of your neck as he held your face and made your eyes look right into his.

Winter Makes Ice tag list: @small-death-and-codeine​ @commonintrest​ @buckyys-doll​  @lil-baby-nor 

let me know if you want a tag!!!

[dizzydancingdreamer]

I Need You | The Mikaelson Boys

Hey lovelies! Here’s another Mikaelson Brother’s fic. This time it’s a firefighter AU. I don’t know why I was so inspired but oh well, here it is anyway. Please do ignore the blatant plot holes and dropped plot points. I wrote this purely for the fluff so the rest doesn’t matter too much! I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Until next time, all my love!

Description: The brothers are firefighters and they come back to the station after a long day only to find an unconscious woman in their fire station. It turns out she’s their mate and she's seconds from death. From there it’s pure fluff/smut. Honestly the plot of this is weak, I just wanted something majorly fluffy.

Pairing: Female!Reader x The Mikaelson Boys

Warnings: THIS IS AN 18+ ONLY FIC!!! It’s not a full blown smut but it does get heated. It’s hella light smut. Honestly the warning should read something more like “inappropriate actions for on duty firefighters towards a civilian at the workplace”. Take into mind that I do not condone this behaviour outside of my fics but that they are soulmates and it’s all consensual! The other warning is angst. This is super graphic at the beginning but after that it gets better.  

Word count: 7.3k

Tags: Angst, smut, fluff

P.S. This is only in the boys’ perspectives for like five nanoseconds, after that it’s completely in the reader’s

Tag list: @activist-af​ @corishirogane3​

(Pictures not mine, mood board is!)

“Remind me, Elijah,” Klaus runs a hand through his hair, shaking some of the soot from his blonde hair, “why we decided to do this again?”

Elijah huffs indignantly, also shaking out his hair and shrugging the heavy coat off his shoulders. His hoodie underneath is soaked through with sweat and it follows the same path. Klaus already stands in just a t-shirt, the navy material glued to his skin. 

“Don’t you remember, brother?” Kol hops out of the truck from behind the wheel, his bare chest exposed, spare the straps keeping the bottom half of his turnout gear on, a cheerful grin on his lips, “He wanted us to give back to the community. I believe his exact words were firefighters or soldiers.”

It’s true, Elijah had wanted them to do something meaningful with their lives. Well, with a fraction of their lives. He wanted them to be a family again and what better way to do that than to take on a career built on teamwork. Honestly, he had expected them to last maybe six months before quitting but now they were three years deep and he couldn’t see them going anywhere for a while. Somehow station 32 in small town Virginia had become a home base for them.

Elijah leans against the brick of the old fire station, closing his eyes for a moment, “just be happy I didn’t suggest doing both.”

“What makes you think I would follow you to war,” Klaus laughs but it’s hollow, the strain of the day settling over his bones.

They haven’t had a day this strenuous in months, sixteen calls in one day and it’s only eight. Human or not, that’s a lot of heavy lifting. Klaus would do anything for some sleep. He sags against the wall next to his brother. Despite the sleep tugging at his body he can’t seem to relax. Something is keeping his spine rigid, something he can’t quite place his mind on. Oh well. 

Elijah chuckles, his eyes still shut, “you followed me here didn’t you? Face it, you needed this as much as I did.”

Klaus doesn’t speak, he just hums his agreement, something entirely unlike him but brought on from the exhaustion. His shoulders remain tight, his muscles stiff. The air feels like it's buzzing lightly, charged with something he doesn’t have enough energy to think about.

Kol laughs through his own fatigue, stretching his arms behind him, ignoring the way his bones click slightly, “I, for one, need a shower. I smell like flames and I hate it. I suggest you two do the same,” he turns from his slumped brothers, “I can smell you from here.”

Elijah pulls himself from the wall, rolling his shoulders and peeling his eyes open, “come on, Niklaus, you can take a nap for a few hours. I doubt the rest of the night will be eventful, half the town should be asleep by now.”

“I hope you’re right.”

The two brothers catch up with Kol easily, grabbing their discarded gear on the way and heading towards the locker room. Kol is the first to step through the door, adamant on jumping in the shower before his brothers take all the hot water like they usually do, when he stops suddenly, all of his senses on high alert. Something is wrong, terribly so. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, catching the faintest hint of sweetness, like vanilla and oranges, mingled with something sharper. Something too familiar. 

“Kol, what are you-” Elijah doesn’t get to finish his thought.

“Blood,” Klaus pushes past both of them, his eyebrows furrowed, “I smell blood. Someone’s here.”

Kol nods and steps further into the room, directly followed by Klaus and Elijah. As they push forward, towards the showers, the scent of fresh blood intensifies. So does the vanilla citrus perfume, magnifying and tangling around each brother. The room is electrified because of it, drawing them quicker to the heart of the locker room. The distinct sound of three heartbeats fills the room, each one louder than the last. Thump, thump, thump. 

When they turn the corner they freeze, each heart skipping a beat in the same moment. There, in the middle of the showers, is an unconscious woman. A naked, unconscious woman slumped over in a pool of her own blood. Her body is battered, more blue and black than any other color. Who knew a vampire's blood could turn as cold as theirs is right now?

“Fuck,” Kol’s voice is the first to break the tension, dropping to his knees with a dull thud, his heart strings snapping violently in his chest, “fuck!”

Klaus is in front of her in a flash, his teeth ripping into his wrist without a second thought. Kol turns his head away, squeezing his eyes shut. There’s no way he can watch this. The sweet smell wraps around him, taunting him almost. The overwhelming sense of loss wraps around him like a noose, his throat closing harshly. Why now, why like this?

“Is that,” Elijah, too, sinks to the ground, his hands splayed against the concrete, his eyes glued to the horrific sight in front of him, “is that who I think it is?”

His muscles tighten, an indescribable pain rippling through his entire body. He feels like he’s drowning. No, like he’s burning alive. Fuck, it feels like both at the same time. He wants to scream but no sounds are surfacing. This can’t be happening!

Kol’s voice is sharp and cracked, too many emotions to decipher leaking into his words, “yeah, it’s her. It’s our mate.”

Klaus presses his bleeding wrist to her mouth hard, tears streaming freely down his face. He couldn’t care less about how he looks, not right now. Not when it feels like someone is ripping his heart straight from his chest. 

“Come on, love. Wake up. I need you! Wake up!”

                         *          *          *           *          *          *

“Wake up. I need you! Wake up!” 

You tear your eyes open suddenly, bright lights flooding your senses. You gasp as you regain consciousness, something that you realize too late is a mistake. Your mouth is filled with a thick, hot substance, one much too metallic and familiar for your liking, that you inhale by accident. It fills your lungs quickly, your chest burning, and you roll over, hacking up mouthfuls of the disgusting fluid. It feels like your entire body is engulfed in flames. Like you’re dying twice. 

The concrete is freezing against your fiery arms and, when it finally blurs into focus, you realize it’s also covered in a deep red liquid. You run your tongue over your mouth, the tang making your eyes widen. Your heart stutters as you finally come to an understanding. Blood. The floor is covered in blood. Your blood. This time you vomit, and almost scream when you see it matches the liquid around you.

“Shit,” a voice sounds from behind you as a pair of hands slides over your back, startling you further into the sticky redness, “holy shit you’re awake. Oh thank god!”

You flinch away from the hands, turning too quickly to face whoever it is behind you. Mistake number two. The walls start spinning around you and you have to grasp the wet stone beneath you and close your eyes for a moment. When you finally open them again you’re met with a pair of warm, brown eyes. Your heart stutters again, but you don’t have time to wonder why you don’t feel as afraid this time.

“Who are you? What the hell is going on?” you run your eyes over him, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, “I don’t- where am I?”

Each of your senses are on high alert, your heart beating so loud you’re afraid it’s going to jump out of your chest, as you allow yourself to finally take in your surroundings. You're in a shower room of sorts, with rows of lockers on your one side and the tiled rows of shower stalls on the other. The smell of fresh blood hits you full force and you almost vomit again. You suck in a deep breath, ignoring the burning in your lungs as you try to force the feeling away. Your eyes catch some writing on the wall; Station 32. You look back to the man in front of you, zeroing in on his navy t-shirt with the same logo. 

What the hell are you doing at a fire station? 

He shifts closer to you and you stiffen. A pained expression laces across his face and your chest stings, worse than it did when you were coughing up the blood. He closes his eyes for a moment and when he opens them again there’s a sheen of tears. You swallow thickly, your own tears forming at the sight of his. What on earth is happening?

He sits back on his knees and runs a red hand through his blonde hair, maring the light strands with blood. You tense further at the sight. For some reason you want to stop him from spreading more of the blood over him. He’s already kneeling in a puddle of it, and his arms are soaked, painted in a cruel crimson. Even his t-shirt is drenched.  You grind your teeth together, your jaw clenching harshly. He places both his hands on the floor and takes another few inches towards you.

His movements are slow as if not to startle you, “hey, it’s alright. You’re safe now. I’m Klaus, I’m a firefighter here. You’re at station 32, Lexington, Virginia.”

His voice is heavy with emotion, making what you can only assume is a strong british accent even stronger. Your heart tugs harshly when he speaks, begging you to move closer to him. You wrap your arms around yourself, ignoring the increasingly sticky feeling over your entire body. You can’t stop a few tears from slipping down your cheeks.

“How did I get here?” 

A new voice, one just as accented and gravelly, pulls your attention from Klaus, “we aren’t sure, darling. We just got back ourselves. Gave us quite a shock, actually. How much do you remember?”

Your eyes wander around the blonde and land on two more men, two brunettes. You lock eyes with each of them, your heat racing once more. You suck in a breath at the wave of emotions that hit you. Sadness, confusion, longing, comfort. Love. It all hits you at once and you have to close your eyes before the room starts spinning again. When you open them again, they’re closer. Far enough to keep you from tensing, settled next to Klaus. 

You tuck your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around yourself, suddenly feeling very exposed. One of the men, the one with dark brown hair cut close to his head and concerned brown eyes, notices and wastes no time pulling the t-shirt from his chest and settling it on your knees. It’s warm and a touch damp but you don’t mind, gratefully shuffling it over your head and passing him a grateful nod. It lands mid thigh, circling you in a heady wood scent. Your cheeks flame as you try not to lean down and smell it directly. When you look back at him his eyes are glinting.

“I’m not sure,” you press your palms against your eyes and immediately regret it, the stickiness now smeared on your cheeks and eyelids, “I don’t remember much. Only bits and pieces from this morning but nothing after that. Wait, is that normal? God, why can’t I remember anything!”

All of a sudden you’re panicking and the room begins shrinking, at least it feels like it is. You can’t breathe, your lungs constricting painfully. There isn’t enough oxygen in the room. Was there ever enough? You’re racking your mind for any little thing that you can remember but it’s pointless, you’re going too fast and your mind can’t make sense of anything you’re seeing. You see a sink, one covered in blood. You see teeth. No, you see fangs. You smell the forest, one heavy with pine trees. None of it makes sense!

You claw maniacally at your chest, trying to suck in enough air to clear the fog in your head. Nothing is helping, your body is on fire and sticky and you just want to scream until it all makes sense. The shirt feels three sizes too small and you want to tear it over your head. Just before you can, though,  you’re pulled onto someone's lap, someone who smells like pure water, and you can finally suck in a proper breath. The flames that were lapping your skin slowly start to fade, giving over to a cool sensation that soothes your achy bones. 

“Deep breaths, love,” Klaus’ voice washes over you like a lullaby, his hands rubbing down your back, “that’s good, just like that. We’re going to figure this out but for now you just have to breathe. You’re safe now, I promise you that. We can start with an easy one, what’s your name?”

You sink into his chest more easily than you would like to admit. His arms circle you tighter, his head resting on yours in an entirely unprofessional way but you don’t care. You’ve never felt this kind of need before. You’re afraid that if you leave his arms now then the flames will come back.

“Y/n,” you murmur into his shoulder, “my name is y/n.” 

A pair of hands rub over your shoulders, drawing you into them slightly on instinct, “darling, I know you’re scared but we need to see if you’re seriously hurt. We found you in a lot of blood,” whoever is speaking his voice is rough and he has to stop to clear his throat, muttering a curse under his breath, “do you think you can let us check you over?”

When he brings up the blood, it’s all you can smell again, and you scramble from Klaus’ arms, narrowly making it before you’re vomiting again. This time you don’t puke up any blood, thank god. Just bile, which isn’t much better. The metallic scent is all around you and it’s all you can do to hang your head and suck in as much air as possible. You feel so dizzy it physically hurts.

“Shit, Elijah we gotta get this cleaned up. It’s only making it worse. C’mere love,” you’re pulled into the warm chest of a man you’ve yet to interact with.

You lock eyes with the last man, losing your breath at his honey brown eyes. He smiles softly and you feel your cheeks go hot. You bring your hands to your lips quickly, all too aware of how close you are to this man and the fact that you were just throwing up and are soaked through with blood. You blink back a few tears, embarrassment streaming through you. You glance down at his chest which is now covered in your blood. The man furrows his brows, shaking his head lightly. You can almost hear his thoughts; don’t worry. 

Elijah, the man who gave you his shirt, nods at Klaus, standing quickly, “you two take her to the captain’s bathroom, it’s nicer anyway and more private. I’m not expecting anyone else tonight but I’d rather them not see her like this,” he turns, locking eyes with you, his rough tone softening drastically, “baby, are you okay if they help you clean this blood off? They’re not going to hurt you, we just need to get you cleaned up and warm to make sure you don’t go back into shock.”

The word baby rings through your head, hitting you directly in the chest. Tendrils of warmth unfurl through your body and you find yourself nodding to everything he says. Elijah sags, relief taking over his body. It doesn’t last long though, the tension filling his frame as he looks back around the room.

“Kol,” the man under you tenses, “take her upstairs now. Niklaus, do you mind helping me with this? It’s-” Elijah looks at you again for a moment before he has to look away, “It’s going to take two people.”

Klaus stares at you longingly, the pained look back in his eyes. It makes you want to pull him into your arms, blood or no blood, and hold him. You tense at the thought. Where did that come from?

He looks at you a moment longer before crawling over to and running one of his stained hands over your cheek. He leans down and kisses the top of your head, rubbing his cheek against your matted hair. Sparks dance down your spine at the simple touch, lighting your body like a christmas tree. Too many emotions surface again, confusion and longing being the top contenders. 

“I’ll be with you as soon as I can, love,” he whispers to you before standing himself and addressing Elijah, “yeah, let’s get this over with.”

Elijah nods at Klaus, his shoulders sagging slightly, probably out of relief again. Looking around one last time it’s obvious the job is going to take some major man-power. Thankfully the blood is contained mostly to the showers, but even so it’s coating almost every surface from there on. Looking at it makes you chest heavy again but before you can lose it Kol stands, pulling you up with him. 

He holds you easily, bringing you level with Klaus and Elijah. Elijah strides over to you, taking your face in his hands. Your heart pounds mercilessly at his touch. It takes all your willpower not to jump into his arms and curl around his bare chest. You try not to stare at his taut muscles. Now is definitely not the time to let lust join the myriad of emotions  running through you. Even as you force your eyes away, though, your body ignites and you have to stop yourself from clenching your thighs around Kol. Fucking hell, what is going on?

Kol’s arms tense suddenly and when you peak back at him, his eyes are shades darker. You swallow thickly, trying not to think too much about the heated look in his eyes. Or how much you don’t want him to stop looking at you like that. You peer back at Elijah, who holds a similar expression. You have to suck in a breath, the room temperature instantly raising ten degrees. 

Elijah leans his forehead against yours, his thumbs grazing your cheekbones gently, “Kol’s going to take you upstairs now, okay baby? He’ll take care of you, help you wash some of this off. You’re in control here, alright? No one else is going to hurt you.”

You nod lightly, your forehead rubbing against his, “okay, Eli.”

He sucks in a sharp breath and presses a hard kiss to your head before releasing you. Kol shuffles you further up his body, drawing your attention to him. He grins at you but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Before you can process what you’re doing, you’re cupping his cheek in your hand. His skin is soft and so warm. He sighs quietly, sinking his cheek into your touch, his eyes losing some of the tension.

“Let’s go get cleaned up, darling.” 

You lower your hand, choosing now to wrap your arms around his shoulders instead. His muscles under your fingertips are glorious, warm and firm. When you rest your face against his shoulder, you breathe in the faintest hints of nutmeg and flames. It’s absolutely intoxicating. His shoulder is hot against your cheek and you finally give into your cravings to curl your body around his, wrapping your legs tightly around his torso and clinging to him for dear life. He holds you against him with everything he has, taking the steps two at a time. 

You can’t bring yourself to open your eyes until you feel him enter a separate room, one much smaller than the locker room you were previously in. You’re greeted with a spectacular sight; a spacious bathroom with a wall of showerheads and the biggest clawfoot tub you’ve ever seen. You almost jump from his arms at how badly you want to get in it.

He sets you down on a vast countertop, the cool marble biting into your bottom. You shiver lightly, a warm blush spreading down your neck and chest. He places his arms on either side of you, staring at you with a mixture of tenderness and caution. You have to will yourself to keep looking into his eyes and not at the way his arms flex from how he’s leaning. God, where did all these wanton feelings come from?

“Okay, darling, where are we going from here? What do you need me to do?” his accent is fuller due to the acoustics in the bathroom and you nearly keel over from how hard it slams through your body, tugging at every nerve south of your belly button.

“Um,” you clear your throat lightly, swallowing the sudden scratchiness, “do you think there’s a toothbrush anywhere around here?”

Kol grins knowingly, leaning down and opening a drawer next to your thigh. The heat rolling off his body rushes into your legs and when he resurfaces with a new toothbrush and a cheeky smile you’re practically panting.

“Thanks.”

You brush your teeth quickly, making sure to scrub the remnants of the past thirty minutes or so from your mouth. It instantly makes you feel a little better, knowing you can speak to Kol without your breath being a biohazard. You set the toothbrush down, looking back to him appreciatively. 

Kol cups your chin gently, spreading heat like butter through your bones,“Do you think you can stand? If you can, I can wait outside while you get cleaned up. You can take as much time as you need, darling. I’ll be right outside the door.”

Your heart pounds quickly at his suggestion, your throat closing painfully. You don’t want him to leave you alone, even if he is just outside the door. You don’t know how to ask him to stay, though, and you don’t want to cross any boundaries. You’re so damn conflicted that your chest aches.

“Okay.”

He nods, his eyes a touch less bright than they were a few moments ago, and he backs away hesitantly. You use all your energy to push yourself off the counter, using it to keep yourself upright when your feet touch the floor. Your legs feel like jelly and you wonder for a moment if you have any bones. You shake your head lightly, scolding yourself. Don’t be stupid, y/n, of course you have bones. However, when you go to take a step towards the bathtub you almost revoke the sentiment. Your legs crumple around you, bringing you to a pile on the floor. 

“Fuck,” Kol is next to you in no time at all, his hands rushing over your legs, most likely checking for damage, “I knew that was going to happen I don’t know why I let you do that, darling. I was trying to give you space. Are you okay? Elijah and Klaus are going to kill me.”

He mutters the last part under his breath but you still catch it, “it’s not your fault, I was trying not to bother you. I thought I could make it to the tub, at least, and then figure the rest out from there. I, uh,” you scrub your hands over your face, covering your eyes with your palms, “I didn’t want to be a burden, more than I already am I mean.”

A few more tears slip past your guard, tracking lines through the dried blood on your cheeks. You swallow a sob before it can make any noise, your shoulders shaking slightly from the cold tiles underneath you. You’re utterly exhausted. You wish you could just click your heels and go home. The only problem is that something tells you that you’d only end up here again if you could do that.

“No,” Kol’s voice is low and strained, “no, darling, don’t say that. This isn’t your fault,” he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his hot, nutmeg chest, “you’re not a burden to me. Or Elijah or Klaus. You’re a surprise and not an unwelcome one. If you need me to stay, hell, if you want me to stay I will. I’ll do whatever you tell me to do, okay?”

You peer up at him, clinging to his toned chest like you’re afraid it’ll vanish from underneath you, “please get this blood off of me, Kol. I can’t do it, I can’t even hold myself up. I need you.”

His eyes darken again, the honeyed brown turning a darker chocolate color, “you have me, darling, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere,” he leans down and brushes his nose against yours, “never ever.”

A tiny giggle bubbles in your chest and it feels like freedom. It feels like falling asleep on the beach and hiking through the mountains and every good thing you’ve ever experienced. Kol’s eyes light up and he bites back a grin before doing it again, pulling a flood of giggles from you. Soon you're throwing your arms around him, laughing your head off for no reason at all, him joining you in the madness. You can’t stop and you don’t want to. You need this, you need him. It frightens you how intensely you feel connected to him already but you push the fear away for the time being. 

“Okay, okay,” Kol scoops you against him and stands, “enough of that, love, time for a bath.”

That effectively puts an end to your giggling, your body igniting at the thought of taking a bath with this second coming of adonis. You swallow the lump in your throat, this time caused by the rippling of his taut muscles against you. The t-shirt you’re wearing feels see through suddenly, the thin layer between your core and his stomach doing little to quell the heat seeping from the crack between your thighs. 

You dig your fingers into his shoulders a little harder than you mean to, pulling a soft grunt from him, one that you can feel in your own chest, “bath. Okay.”

Your cheeks flame at your idiotic response. Bath. Okay. What the hell was that?

He walks to the tub and sets you gently on the floor of it, the porcelain ice against your flesh. He turns, his back facing you as he pulls his suspenders off. You admire the fluid movement of his muscles as he steps out of his stained turnout gear, leaving him in a pair of grey sweatpants. His back is toned like a greek god’s and you would like nothing more in this moment than to know what it feels like to dig your nails into it. You squeeze your thighs together, trying to air the wanton out of your system. Don’t be a hussy, y/n. He turns back to you and your face flushes when he catches your lingering stare.

He hooks his fingers in his sweatpants and your breath catches in your throat. He lifts his eyebrow, silently asking if it’s okay for him to continue. Your mouth feels dry, your head is spinning. Slowly you nod, your eyes glued to his. He smirks lighty, an action so doused in sex that almost has you pulling Elijah’s t-shirt from your body and falling at his feet. You hold your breath as he pulls the sweatpants from his body and your heart almost falls out of your chest when they reveal a pair of grey plaid boxers. What were you expecting? Your subconscious taunts you mercilessly.

He steps into the bathtub behind you, kneeling and grabbing the showerhead on the way down. The heat rolling off of him seems to have increased, wrapping around you and daring you to melt into him. You want to, so badly you do, but you remain upright, your hands on the side of the tub, leaving rusty smudges on the crisp, white edges. 

Kol leans forward, his mouth right next to your ear sending shivers straight to your core when he speaks, “darling, I’m going to need to take this off,” his fingers tease the tops of your thighs, curling around the hem of the t-shirt, “may I do that?” 

He presses his face against your neck, laying a few soft kisses to the skin under your jaw. You roll your head back onto his shoulder, savouring his affection and warmth for a moment without overthinking it. 

You nod against his skin, “yes, Kol.”

You can feel the breath he takes against your back and then, when he releases it, against your neck. He takes his time, his fingers gently skimming your sides as he gathers the fabric up and over your head. You raise your arms to make it easier for him, gasping gently as cool air rolls over your exposed breasts. He tosses Elijah’s t-shirt to the side, running his hands down your back and planting another kiss to your uncovered shoulder. 

You know you should feel ashamed for being this naked with a man you just met but you physically can’t bring yourself to feel any of it. All you know is that you’re comfortable and that his hands on your skin feel like genuine magic. 

“Okay, I’m going to turn the water on now,” he rubs his nose down the back of your neck, “let me know if it’s too hot or anything.”

Your eyes prickle at how sweet he is, how gentle he is with you. He definitely doesn’t look like the gentle type, all tall, dark, and broody, but the way he’s acting proves otherwise. You nod your head, leaning your chin on the edge of the tub. He starts the water, a plume of steam instantly clouding the bathroom. The first stream to hit you is heavenly and you can’t help but close your eyes.

“Is that okay, darling?” 

You hum quietly, “it’s perfect.”

You let the water lull you into a daze, picturing the stream turning red as the water rolls off you and down the drain. It’s mesmerizing, the warmth of the water combined with Kol’s heady scent. When he touches you, though, it’s like a crescendo of feeling. His fingers run over your back, no doubt washing away the events of this evening, but all you can think about is how perfect his hands feel against your bare skin. 

Everywhere he touches blazes to life. You feel like putty in his hands, willing to mold however he needs you to. When his fingers glide down your sides your body reacts without warning, your back arching against his chest. You can feel his chest rumble under your back more than you can hear it. His large hands span your back easily, spreading over your ribcage, his thumbs gently grazing your breasts. You suck in a harsh breath, clenching your teeth to keep his name in your mouth. It’s begging to be said though. Said, screamed, praised. Anything. Fuck it.

“Kol,” you breathe, reaching back to grasp at his forearms for stability, “more.”

The growl that rips from his chest is unexpected but it lights every fibre of your being alive. He pulls you hard against his solid chest, falling against the back of the tub and shifting you so you’re perfectly centered on his lap. A flare of pleasure flashes up your spine when you land on something hot and hard. You hiss at the thin layer of clothing between you and Kol.

His lips find your ear, taking the lobe between his teeth and sending even more heat pooling in your core, “as you wish, darling.”

Your hands fall away as his hands cover your breasts, his thumbs skillfully sliding over your hard nipples. This time you don’t whisper his name, you moan it. Loudly. Every time he rolls your nipples between his fingers, you see stars. You see the whole damn galaxy. His lips find your shoulder, biting down gently but hard enough to pull a string of incoherent praise from your lips. 

His chest rumbles with every noise you make and the ball of heat between your legs grows brighter. You rock your hips against his, trying to build some much needed friction. The noise you pull from him is the epitome of heaven and it hits you right in the chest. It compels you to keep grinding your core against him harder, taking every sound he offers up and matching it with one of your own. You squeeze your eyes shut tightly, rolling your head onto his shoulder as the anticipation sings through your body. 

Your senses are flooded, your hearing muffled by the running water and your blood pumping through your ears, which is probably why you don’t hear the door open and someone step into the bathroom. It’s only when a pair of lips attaches to the base of your neck do you peel your eyes open. You meet Klaus’ stare with a gasp, just as Kol pinches your nipples harder than all the times before. 

Your orgasm hits you like a truck, tearing through your nerves without warning and rendering you to pieces. All the while Klaus takes your arm, placing tantalizing, open mouth kisses down your skin. When you finally come down from the climax, your muscles are layered with a sweet exhaustion. Kol nuzzles against your back, wrapping his arms around your waist. 

“Fuck, darling,” he nips at your shoulder and your skin zings lightly, “you have no idea how much I needed that.”

Your eyes meet Klaus’ and your cheeks flame from the intensity of his stare, “I didn’t do anything, you did it all.”

You want to look away from Klaus, you want to feel some inkling of shame, but you can’t. All you want is to do is hook your arm around his neck and bring him closer to you. Your body craves his and it’s all you can do to not melt into his palm when he cups your cheek. 

“That’s the point, love,” Klaus runs his thumb over your skin, “he just wanted to touch you.”

Kol hums his agreement into your flesh, his lips still glued to you. 

“Do you want to touch me?” The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them, your eyes widening as soon as you register what you just said.

In less than a second, the brown eyes staring into your turn a dark coal color. The skin around Klaus’ eyes turns a deep purple. Your breath hitches at this side of him, a deep longing settling in your chest the longer you stare into his eyes. He's ethereal and entirely unhuman but you can’t even think about that. You want him so bad it stings. He has to shut his eyes for a few moments and when he opens them again his eyes are back to normal, if not a touch darker. 

When he speaks his voice is gravelly, “I need to.” 

You swallow hard, forcing the words out before you have time to lose your nerve, “come here then.”

Klaus’ eyes widen before he stands abruptly, shoving his own jogging pants down his legs before stepping into the other side of the tub. Kol lets you go as Klaus settles against the porcelain. As soon as he’s comfortable he wraps his hands around your hips, pulling you onto his lap and against his chest. Your legs end up on either side of him, much like how you were with Kol, your core pressed against the hardest part of him.

His crisp scent folds around you and sucks you deeper against him until your chest to chest, your breasts pressing into his firm chest. His arms settle around your back, his palms splayed over your spine. Your flesh buzzes from the contact, goosebumps rising when he traces lazy circles with his fingertips. You meet his eyes again and involuntarily clench your thighs around his hips. He’s looking at you like you’re the only girl he’s ever laid eyes on. Like he’s in the presence of a goddess and that he would gladly lay his life down for you. 

Your eyes draw down to the tattoo on his chest, an image of birds in flight, and you run your fingers over it gently. He sucks in a breath when you touch him, closing his eyes and leaning back against the edge of the tub. Something about his reaction spurs you on. If that’s what your fingers can do, what can your mouth do? You lean down, gently attaching your lips to his collarbone and tugging his skin into your mouth.

He jolts up when you bite down lightly, jostling you further onto his lap and sending waves of heat rolling over your body, “fuck,” his hand wraps around the back of your neck, pushing you impossibly closer to him, “love, you have no idea how good that feels.”

You pull back slightly, your mouth still against his skin as your eyes bore into his, “show me.”

His chest rumbles under your lips before he pulls your head back gently and slams his lips against your throat. He sucks your skin into his mouth and, for the second time tonight, you see stars. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, lacing your fingers through his blonde hair. You tug him closer to you, crossing your ankles behind his back. You want every inch of his skin pressed against yours. 

He bites down, his teeth scraping pleasure into every nerve, and you pull at his soft hair, praises falling mindlessly from your lips, “Klaus.”

A second pair of hands glides over your back, “darling, let me wash your hair. I can feel Elijah getting restless. Unless you want three men in this tub with you, I need to finish getting you cleaned up.”

Your heart pounds at the thought of Elijah in the bath with you, his large body pressed against yours. You can practically smell his pine scent in the air, clinging to your skin. You bite your lip. You want to moan his name and he isn’t even in the room. You shake the thought from your mind, leaning into Kol’s hands.

Klaus kisses up your neck, peppering your jaw and cheeks with pecks before pulling you to lay against his chest. You close your eyes, letting the exhaustion that’s been building flood your system. Kol soaks your hair, the warm water pouring down your shoulders as you press your face into Klaus’ neck. His hands draw lazily up and down your sides as Kol massages shampoo against your scalp. You mewl at his touch and cling to Klaus. You could stay in the moment forever, it’s absolutely blissful.

Just as Kol is rinsing the shampoo from your hair, the door to the bathroom opens revealing a shirtless Elijah. He’s clad in nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants. In his hand is a large towel. His eyes zero in on you from across the room and, though you can’t see them clearly, you can tell they’re dark. Your head goes fuzzy as your eyes draw down his sculpted chest, lingering on his rippled stomach. You meet his eyes again and give into your instincts, reaching your arms out for him.

“Eli,” you call out to him, “I need you.”

You stand on wobbly feet, bearing everything to him. You don’t care, you just want to be in his arms. You haven’t had a chance to touch him yet and your body is screaming at you to get as close to him as humanly possible. Even more than humanly possible. Elijah closes the space between the two of you in seconds, wrapping the towel around you before pulling you into his arms. Your legs wrap around his waist, your arms circling his neck. 

He leans down, rubbing his nose against yours, “I need you too, baby.” 

You slip your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, playing with the soft strands mindlessly. He leans into your touch and your heart soars. He hikes you further up your body, leaning his face against your shoulder. You run your hands over his shoulders, sighing when the tension leaves his muscles. 

“I’m going to go sleep for a few hours,” Elijah mumbles into your shoulder but his words aren’t aimed at you, “do you think the two of you will be okay until then.”

Klaus waves his hand dismissively and Kol nods, still draped lazily over the edge of the tub, “yeah, yeah, go, we’ll be fine brother.”

Wait, what? 

Did you hear that right? Brother. Your entire body sets on fire. They’re all related. Well, there’s the shame you were missing at least. You push against Elijah’s chest, forcing him to meet your eyes. When he sees your expression his brows pull together, his brown eyes filled with concern.

“Baby-” 

“You’re all brothers?” you breathe, your face burning, “brothers? What on earth is going on?”

He stares into your eyes for a moment before laughing, turning with you in his arms and starting towards the door. You lock eyes with Klaus and Kol over Elijah’s shoulder. They, too, are laughing without a care. Kol tosses you a wink just as Elijah carries you into the hallway.

You circle your arms around his shoulders again, “Lijah this is crazy. Explain. Please.”

He pulls you through another door, exposing you to a comfortable looking bed. Just looking at it sends sleep pooling in your limbs. He sets you in the middle of it before climbing on after you. He pushes you backwards and you fall into a pile of pillows, the towel long forgotten as he crawls on top of you. Your body flares with something hot as he holds himself on his forearms, his hot chest grazing yours with every breath he takes. You wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him closer to you despite your still unanswered questions.

“Lijah,” you whine as his lips find your neck, arching into his touch like two magnets connecting, “I need answers.”

Elijah’s teeth scrape at your neck, pulling soft moans from your lips. You’re so tired but the want that swirls in your core demands anything but sleep. You grip his shoulders, digging your fingers into his firm muscles. You pull his hips closer to yours, rolling against him desperately. You press your head into the pillows, exposing as much of your neck as you can to him.

He pulls away and you have to swallow your protests. When you finally open your eyes, you’re met with the same dark eyes you saw from Klaus, only now they’re accented by a pair of sharp looking fangs. You suck in a deep breath, reaching up to cup Elijah’s jaw. 

“I know, baby,” he rubs his face into your hand, “I’ll give you all the answers you need and more but first I need you. I have waited a thousand years for you and now that I have you I don’t think I’ll be able to let you go yet. Please, baby, let me have you.”

His words wrap around you, every part of your being, and sink into your core. A wave of longing hits you again, and something else that you’re not ready to explore. It makes your heart warm and your body crave every inch of his. You already knew your answer before he asked. You’ve known since you woke up to the three of them.

Maybe you even knew before that.

You pull his face to yours, capturing his lips with your own, “you already have me. I’m yours.”

[tchallasbabymama]

Troubled Waters Chapter Four

Hey, yall! Here’s the next chapter of Nia and T’Challa’s journey. I’m super proud of this one (I’m proud of all my work, but still.) With the help of @wordsfromthelivingghost being a bomb ass beta reader, I think this is some of my best work yet. And I’m only gonna get better!

Check out my masterlist to read my other stories (and catch up on this one if you’re new here.) I love when y’all talk to me and share my work so others can discover it, so hit those comment and reblog buttons. Also, be sure to let me know if you want to be tagged in anything. Enjoy!😘

Word count: 8,894

CW: A little blood and cutting but NOT for self-harm reasons. If it bothers you, skip the second half of the scene at Kokou’s temple.

Nia pressed her cheek to the window, careful not to smudge the thin line of white clay painted down the center of her face. Her eyes were wide, and her mouth hung slightly open as she watched Wakanda zoom by from hundreds of feet in the air. She had always loved seeing what the world looked like from above, but it had been years since she last got to enjoy the view. When she was young, Amare would carry her in his arms as he flew high above the ground to give her a taste of what she so desperately wanted: to feel the wind beneath her nonexistent wings.

T’Challa half-watched Nia from his seat off to the side of the cabin as he flipped through news articles on his kimoyo beads. As they flew over a statue of Bast in her full panther form, he could tell the bright blue light radiating from the tunnel beneath the goddess intrigued her. Her head tilted slightly to the left, and he turned off his beads right as she turned around with a question on her lips.

“That’s Mt. Bashenga,” T’Challa answered prematurely as he stood and made his way over to the window, looking out at his kingdom as Okoye steered the Royal Talon over the Mining province.

“Why’s it glowing?”

“Vibranium.”

“Ohhh.” Nia thought back to the human history books she read as a child that told their story of the founding of Wakanda. Obviously, they had censored the part about aziza, but she still found their revisionist history fascinating. “That’s where the meteorite landed, right?”

T’Challa nodded, impressed by her knowledge.

“Ubaba always said vibranium was ‘the humans’ magic’,” she whispered just loud enough for him to hear.

T’Challa was mildly shocked. He had never considered it that way, but he supposed it was sort of otherworldly what they were able to do with the substance. In comparison to other humans, anyway.

Okoye kept her focus on flying the ship, but T’Challa couldn’t help but spot the slight glow that emanated from Nia’s skin while she ogled the scenery. The king reflected on the description of aziza he had read the day before and remembered that it mentioned their luminous skin. He had noticed that even when she was standoffish towards him, she seemed to radiate light from the inside out, but seeing her literally light up in excitement brought him joy.

When Birnin Zana came into view, Nia’s eyes curiously trailed along the tributaries that moseyed through the metropolis and she was reminded of the magic realm’s big city, Birnin Umlingo. She smiled fondly at how similar they were despite the fact that Birnin Zana was so much bigger. It was nestled between rolling hills and sharp cliffsides, and she was pleasantly surprised to see all the lush greenery dispersed throughout the city. There were small parks everywhere and most of the roofs were topped with well-kept gardens. The skyscrapers and apartment buildings stretched to the sky like the trees that lined the streets, but Nia was almost blinded when the sun bounced off of an impressive structure in the middle of the city. Two almost conical, shining towers spiraled up from an ancient foundation that swirled around the base like the flowing tributary that surrounded most of it like a moat. The towers were connected by a long bridge about a third of the way up and despite her amazement, Nia couldn’t help but wonder why they had to build two towers instead of just one.

“Bast, is that the palace?” She pointed up ahead.

T’Challa smirked proudly. He never tired of seeing the dual vibranium spires that towered over even the tallest skyscrapers throughout the city.

“It is,” he said proudly.

“It’s so big,” she whispered, then turned to look at him. “Does it ever feel empty?”

He furrowed his brows, making a little crease appear between them that Nia found endearing. “How do you mean?”

“Well, it’s just you and your family that live there, right?”

The king nodded.

“Then why do you need so much space? And why two instead of just one? It seems so unnecessary.”

Okoye bit the inside of her lip to keep from snickering at Nia’s sincere inquiries. She wasn’t too keen on Nia and wasn’t quite sure why she was there, but she had worked for T’Challa long enough to know he didn’t like people questioning him.

“I don’t- it’s not just...look.” He pointed back out the window to distract her, and Nia whipped her head around to watch their descent to the landing pad in front of the palace.

The three of them exited the Talon, but instead of entering T’Challa’s gratuitously large home, they made a left and walked through the palace gates and into the bustling streets of Birnin Zana. Nia had been to the big city before when she was young, but it seemed like it had exploded over the last couple of decades. It had always been a busy hub of commerce for the Merchant tribe, but business owners from the other tribes had moved there in droves over the past few years to get a piece of the pie.

The three of them passed through the financial district with ease. Nia kept her neck craned to look up at the tall banks, corporate offices, and massive parking garages filled with hovercars. In the distance, she saw an arena and she wondered what took place there. Did they have many concerts? Sporting events? She made a mental note to ask about that later and continued to take in her surroundings. The maglev trains zooming by high above the street caught her attention, and her eyes widened. She had never been on a train before.

They eventually made it to Three Step Town, the cultural hub of the city and Nia looked on in awe at the various businesses that surrounded them. Once again, she was reminded of Birnin Umlingo as she looked around at the diversity that surrounded her. Most of the older folks were dressed in the traditional clothing of their tribes, but the younger Wakandans seemed to prefer a more modern look. They really were a spectacle. Some people had brightly colored manes and shining vibranium tattoos that decorated their skin, and the sight had Nia’s wheels turning. She had never really experimented much with her look, but they were giving her the inspiration to try something different.

Just as Nia began to ponder what body modification would look good on her, she felt someone grab her and yank her to the side of the street. She began to protest right as a streetcar full of people rolled by. Nia turned to thank her savior, smiling sheepishly when she realized it was Okoye.

“Watch where you’re going,” the general warned harshly and let go of Nia’s arm. The two of them joined T’Challa as he spoke to a snaggletoothed young boy who had proudly shown him the Black Panther action figure that he carried everywhere. The boy’s parents thanked the king for being so polite before they said goodbye and went on their way. Nia’s heart warmed a little at seeing T’Challa be so kind to them. He could have easily ignored the family or had Okoye intervene, but he seemed to enjoy interacting with his people. As the three of them continued on their journey, a small smile pushed up the corners of Nia’s mouth knowing he wasn’t as arrogant as she assumed.

Nia was almost overwhelmed by the many shops they passed by. She could buy anything she wanted: jewelry, instruments, furniture, hats. It seemed like they had everything. However, she came to a halt when they walked by a store with colorful, hand-woven baskets hanging out front. The old lady that ran the shop noticed Nia staring and came forward to help her pick one out, but paused when she saw that the king was standing beside her. She saluted him fondly and turned to face his companion.

“Excuse me, how much for this one?” Nia asked the shopkeep as her fingers ran over the intricate patterns along the sides of a mid-sized sweetgrass basket.

“For you it is free,” the older woman said through a bright smile that crinkled her eyes. Before Nia could protest, she had already taken it down and pushed it into her arms.

“Are you sure? I can pay-”

“Just tell people where you got it,” the woman winked before going back inside to help a customer that was ready to check out.

Nia couldn’t believe how kind the woman had been to give her the gift, but her amazement was cut short by T’Challa leaning in close and ruining the moment.

“Just one of the perks of traveling with the king,” he teased.

Nia rolled her eyes and stepped away from him, continuing down the street with her basket swinging in the crook of her elbow. She had been so caught up in her surroundings that she hadn’t noticed the stares from passersby and began to get a little self-conscious. A few people even snapped a picture or two of the king and his elusive friend, some of which would surely end up on gossip blogs by the end of the day.

Her nervousness was short-lived and quickly got replaced with longing when they turned the corner and walked right through the food district. Not only did the colorful produce stands call to her, but the smells of curries and grilled meats continuously pulled her attention from left to right. However, when a deliciously sweet aroma tickled her nose, she stopped dead in the middle of the road.

“Where is that coming from?” Nia sniffed the air and veered off the main street as she followed the scent to a man that was serving up deep-fried sweet plantain on a stick, drizzled with chocolate. T’Challa kept a close eye on Nia but stayed back and let her wander up to the dessert cart alone. He watched as she engaged the man in conversation and saw her come alive when she tasted the sample he provided her. A small smile crept up the king’s face, but his amusement was cut short by Okoye clearing her throat next to him.

“My king,” she started, and he turned slightly in her direction, nodding for her to continue as he kept his eyes on Nia. “If I may...what exactly is her purpose here with us?”

“Nia is a devotee of Bast, and I believe she may be helpful in our attempts to understand what has happened to her,” he stated matter-of-factly.

Okoye sensed his unwillingness to go further into detail and grew quiet again as Nia damn near skipped back over to them with her hands full.

“Here you go,” Nia sang as she held out two of the desserts for them to take. “He saw I was with the king and gave me three for free!”

Neither of them was hungry, but they just couldn’t say no to her big, childlike eyes.

“Thank you,” T’Challa waved to the man behind the counter and took a bite of the dessert, eyes rolling back in ecstasy. “Mmm”

“See? It’s amazing,” Nia said with a mouth full of plantain. Even Okoye had to agree.

The three of them ate their midmorning snack as they strolled through the streets, eventually making their way to a much quieter section on the outskirts of the busy city center. Just as Nia finished licking the last bit of chocolate from the wooden stick, she came face to face with an ancient-looking stone building that didn’t quite fit the vibe of the modern neighborhood. Her eyes zeroed in on the large statue at the entrance. It was a being with the body of a man and the head of an ibis holding a scroll in one hand and a staff in the other.

“Welcome to the flagship branch of the Wakandan Public Library,” T’Challa said proudly.

While Nia loved a good library, she was a little confused about why they were there. “I thought we were going to a temple.”

T’Challa wiggled his eyebrows as he stepped past her, climbing the steps with Okoye in tow, “This is the temple.”

Nia’s curiosity got the best of her, and she followed behind the king and his general. They threw their sticks away in the trash cans outside of the doors that swished open as they approached. Nia hadn’t expected the building to have such modern technologies based on the look of it, but she surmised the library would have a few more surprises up its sleeves.

“Kumkani wam!”

All three of their heads turned towards the woman behind the large marble desk as she scrambled to salute the king, dropping the small stack of books from her arms. T’Challa quickly rounded the desk and smiled at her as he crouched down to pick the books off of the floor. Before she could stoop down to help him, he had already placed them neatly on the desk.

“T-thank you, my king,” the woman stammered and pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. Never in her life had she imagined she would be so close to royalty, much less her biggest crush. “What can I do for you?”

“Well…” he started, trailing off to get her name.

“Fatima, sir.”

“What a beautiful name,” he flirted innocently and leaned on the cool marble as Nia and Okoye both fought their eyes from rolling to the ceiling. Okoye was used to his flirtatious manner making women swoon at his feet, but it still irked her to no end. They had a job to do, and he was wasting time. Nia, however, felt the tiniest tinge of something deep in her gut as she watched him make eyes at the beautiful librarian. She waved it off as annoyance since she still wasn’t the king’s biggest fan. Adding “womanizer” to her list of reasons not to like him certainly tipped the scales further away from him, balancing out his actions from earlier.

Fatima giggled as she struggled to make eye contact with the handsome king, “Thank you, your highness.”

“Please, call me T’Challa,” he implored, resting his hand over his heart and flashing his irresistible smile.

“Oh, no. I couldn’t do that-”

“I insist.”

Okoye cleared her throat, and T’Challa’s eyes reluctantly shot in her direction.

“Anyway, Fatima, we were wondering if Abdu is in today,” T’Challa continued as he straightened up and stood to his full height, making Fatima swoon even more in his presence. Her eyes wandered down to his chest, but she snapped out of it and attempted to look him in the eye. Her knees nearly buckled under the intensity of his gaze, but she stood firm.

“Y-yes, he is, my ki-”

T’Challa reprimanded her with a simple raise of his right eyebrow, and she quickly corrected herself.

“I mean, T’Challa,” Fatima giggled once more. “I’ll go get him for you.”

“Thank you, Fatima,” he smiled down at her, watching as she walked away with a pep in her step and her hips twitching just a little more than usual.

Fatima disappeared behind a green velvet curtain, and when they were sure she was out of earshot, Nia and Okoye both turned to look at the king. They wore matching expressions of disapproval, but, for some reason, it stung to see on Nia’s face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked her.

“Must you flirt with every woman you see?” Okoye butted in, clearly exasperated by his antics.

Nia’s eyebrows jumped as a teasing smirk settled on her lips. “Oh, so this is a common occurrence?”

“You wouldn’t believe how many-”

“General,” T’Challa warned, and Okoye stopped talking.

Nia tried to contain a laugh, but it came out more like a snort than she intended. Just as T’Challa opened his mouth to make fun of her, Fatima appeared from behind the curtain with a heavy-set man with tortoiseshell glasses just a few steps behind her.

“T’Challa, my boy! Oh, excuse me, my king.” The man bowed sarcastically and crossed his arms in a salute. T’Challa waved him off with a smile and a click of his tongue, and the two men embraced each other. Nia had noticed T’Challa wasn’t really one to demand formalities, but the man’s familiarity with the king intrigued her.

“Abdu, how have you been?”

It had been several months since T’Challa last visited the library. Abdu had worked and worshipped there for decades and had watched the king grow into the man before him. Some of T’Challa’s fondest childhood memories consisted of him spending hours curled up in the stacks, flipping through whatever book caught his eye that day. Abdu would bring him story after story for him to get lost in, and the older man never tired of T’Challa’s curiosity. No matter how many questions he threw at him.

“Getting old, but I can’t complain,” the much shorter man said as they pulled apart. He looked around T’Challa and noticed his company. “Okoye, a pleasure to see you as always.”

“You as well, Abdu,” she smiled.

“And who might this lovely creature be?” Abdu asked as his gaze fell on Nia. She bristled at his choice of words but said nothing. Even as a child, she had always been sensitive to the word “creature” and felt it offensive to refer to non-humans as such. She knew he had no idea about her bloodline, though, and since he meant no harm she simply ignored the terminology.

“Nia Olu, sir,” she introduced herself with a nod of her head, and he returned the gesture.

“Ah, a beautiful name for a beautiful woman. And what is it that you do, Nia Olu?”

“I am a healer and a devotee of Bast.”

“A devotee, huh? Well, I think we will get along nicely,” he smiled warmly at her before turning back to the king. “What can I do for you all today?”

“Well, actually, Nia is a big part of why we’re here,” T’Challa began. “It seems Bast has gone missing. Neither of us has been able to contact her as of late.”

“Are you a priestess?” Abdu asked Nia, confused as to why a simple devotee would be partnered with the king for such a task. Okoye felt vindicated by his questioning but stayed quiet.

“No, sir.”

“Then, I must say, I’m a little confused on how you would have a direct connection to her-”

“She is highly favored in the goddess’ eyes,” T’Challa cut in, hoping his vague answer would be enough to dissuade Abdu from asking too many questions. He knew it wouldn’t be easy to hide anything from a priest of the god of wisdom, but he also knew he couldn’t give away Nia’s full identity. “We were wondering if maybe you could see if Thoth knows where she is or why she isn’t answering.”

Abdu could tell there was something else to the story, but decided not to press the subject. He figured that if the king felt it was important enough to keep from him, then he had to trust his judgment.

The priest nodded and motioned for the three of them to follow him. T’Challa winked at Fatima before falling in step with Abdu, and once again, Nia’s and Okoye’s eyes struggled to remain straight ahead as they followed behind the two men.

Nia couldn’t help but stare in awe at the rows and rows of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves they passed as they walked through the centuries-old library. She imagined herself spending hours combing through the texts and soaking up whatever knowledge held, just like she did with the many books Amare provided her with as a child. Her daydreaming was cut short when they passed through the children’s section, and she noticed a display of picture books, one of which caught her eye. There, on the cover, was a colorful illustration of an aziza sitting in a tree, watching over a group of children as they played in the grass below him.

Before she knew it, Nia had grabbed the book and started flipping through the pages, scanning the words and pictures for any sign of historical truth. She found none, but her hope didn’t die out. Maybe, just maybe the library held onto more of the past than the Wakandans realized. She knew magical creatures were relegated to folktales, but she began to wonder how many of those tales were historically accurate, if any. She hadn’t noticed that the others had stopped and were watching her tear through the book like it held the secrets to the universe.

“You like that one? It’s a fairly new release. Very popular with the children,” Abdu said, but his words fell on deaf ears.

“Nia?” the king called out to her.

She jumped and dropped the book, but T’Challa caught it before it could hit the ground.

“Yeah? Sorry, I just…” Nia trailed off, unsure of what to say. All three of them looked at her curiously, but when T’Challa’s eyes graced the cover, he understood why she had been called to it. “Are there many stories like this?”

“Of aziza?” Abdu asked for clarification, and Nia nodded. “Sure! Kids love fantastical creatures. You know, some of them even swear up and down that they’ve seen them in real life.”

T’Challa and Nia shared a quick glance as he set the book back where she found it. Of course, Okoye caught their quick exchange.

“Such wild imaginations,” Nia murmured, and the group continued on their trek. She was quiet for a moment as she tried to figure out the best way to word her next question when she decided to just go for it. “Abdu, is there any mention of, um, species that are no longer around in any of these books?”

T’Challa looked at her knowingly out of the corner of his eye. He knew what she was getting at, and he was curious about Abdu’s answer. After seeing Nia’s book the day before, his mind had begun to wonder about ancient Wakandan texts. She had told him that they coexisted long ago, so there had to be some evidence hidden deep in the bowels of the library. If there was proof anywhere, it was here.

“Of course!” Abdu said excitedly and pointed to the far left wall. “Species naturally go extinct all the time. If that interests you, check out our history section over there.”

Nia and T’Challa both cataloged that information for later and started mentally planning their next visits.

The deeper they traveled into the vast library, a tingling grew in Nia’s stomach. There was great power there, and she could feel it. The tingling intensified as they arrived at a large door with an image of Thoth that had been hand-carved by artisans long ago.

“We’ll take it from here, Okoye,” T’Challa ordered, and the general nodded before standing at attention with her back to the door. Then, his eyes fell to Nia. “Ready?”

“I think…”

“That’ll serve you well here,” Abdu joked as he pushed open the heavy door.

Nia wasn’t quite sure what she was expecting to see, but a winding staircase certainly wasn’t on her list of possibilities. The three of them quietly descended the steps, and all that could be heard was the sounds of their sandals connecting with the stone as they went. After what seemed like forever, Abdu came to a halt at another large door and turned to face his visitors.

“You must enter with pure intentions and a cool head, or he will not answer. Understood?”

Nia and T’Challa answered in unison.

“Yes, sir.”

“Of course.”

“Good,” Abdu smiled at them and reached for the handle, pushing it open and revealing what looked to be a private study. The lamps along the stone walls lit up when they entered, and Nia was once again amazed at how the ancient seemed to flawlessly combine with the modern. As she looked around, she noticed that instead of books, there were scrolls stacked neatly on the shelves. A high-backed chair sat behind a large wooden desk with several scrolls strewn about it, and in the center of the room, there was a stone lectern that looked like it had been there since the dawn of time. Colorful pillows surrounded it on the floor, and next to it stood another statue of Thoth. This time, his hands were out and he was holding a staff that resembled the one from the statue out front, except this one was made of gold. This one was real, and it made the hairs on the back of Nia’s neck stand at attention.

Abdu made his way over to the closest shelf and grabbed a scroll from the top of the stack. He then crossed the room again and stood behind the lectern. When he unrolled the scroll, Nia and T’Challa were both surprised to find that it was blank. They watched with bated breath as he produced a shiny gold pen from his pocket and removed the staff from the statue’s arms.

“You two, come sit down,” Abdu said to them, pointing to the floor pillows.

They obeyed his order, and each grabbed a pillow. T’Challa sat cross-legged while Nia carefully placed her new basket on the floor and tucked her feet under her. They waited patiently while Abdu mumbled a prayer under his breath. Despite T’Challa’s enhanced hearing, he could barely make out what Abdu was saying, but the more he spoke, the colder the room became. The priest continued his prayers for several minutes until the staff began to glow with blinding orange light and his mouth snapped shut tight. A soft breeze blew through the room as his eyes glowed the same color as the staff, and the pen in his left hand started to frantically scribble words onto the formerly blank scroll. His hand moved faster than humanly possible, and Nia recognized what was happening as a possession. She bowed her head in the god’s presence and nudged T’Challa in his side to do the same. He followed suit, but neither of their eyes left Abdu, too curious to look away.

It seemed like forever had come and gone as the two sat in silence, watching in awe while Abdu filled the scroll as he channeled Thoth. The only sound that filled the air was the fast-moving pen on the papyrus and a faint humming from the staff, but suddenly, it all stopped. The staff’s light waned, and Abdu blinked his eyes back to their normal shade of hazel. He carefully placed the staff back in the statue’s hands and read over the words he had been given from his god. A frown appeared on the priest’s face, and Nia made eye contact with T’Challa. Neither one felt good news was coming.

“Well,” Abdu broke the tense silence, “to sum it up, it seems Thoth hasn’t seen or heard from Bast in several weeks. He says that’s very unlike her, as I’m sure you know, T’Challa.”

The king nodded. “Is there anything else? Did he say where she might be?”

“Oh, he said plenty, but not about your question. He can be quite long-winded at times,” Abdu murmured as he scanned the text once more to make sure he wasn’t missing anything. He then looked down at his two visitors with an apology in his eyes. “I wish I could’ve been of more help.”

T’Challa stood from his seated position and reached a hand out to Nia. She swatted it away and stood on her own, straightening out her long, flowing skirt before sending Abdu a warm smile. “Thank you for trying.”

“It was a pleasure, my dear.”

“So,” Nia turned to the king, “where to next?”

--------

The smile never left Okoye’s face as she landed the Talon in an open field and proudly led them to their next destination. They had traveled to Okoye’s hometown in the Mining province, and she nodded at her former neighbors as they waved to get her attention. It wasn’t often that she could return to Birnin Djata, but since she was on duty, she had to remain professional.

The town was much smaller than Birnin Zana, and the walk to the temple was much shorter this time around. A few moderately-sized dwellings lined the road to the temple, and Nia could see the town square in the distance. They passed groups of miners boarding and exiting the trains that took them to and from work, and Nia couldn’t help but wonder what all that vibranium looked like up close.

When they arrived at the temple, Nia was pleasantly surprised that this one actually looked like a place of worship. The wall that surrounded it looked as old as time, but the vibranium door in the center had to be no more than a hundred years old. A strange sound echoed from inside, and although Nia thought she recognized it, she was confused on why it was coming from a temple of all places.

“Is something wrong? What’s going on in there?” she asked with concern, making Okoye’s smile expand and her eyes light up.

“Sparring.”

Nia’s confusion grew, and she turned to T’Challa for clarification.

“Kokou is the god of war. Fighters often train here, and many of his followers go on to become great warriors. Including Okoye,” he explained.

“Ohhh, ok.”

Okoye led them up the temple’s steps, and Nia’s attention was drawn to the rows of fire that lined the walkway. As the party of three got closer to the doors, they slowly parted to grant them access. Loud shouts and grunts came from the right, and Okoye led them down the hallway, directly towards the noise.

Nia watched excitedly as the warriors-in-training sparred with one another. Fists connected with flesh, spears sliced through the air, and fighters seemed to glide across the padded floor. She recognized some of the fighting styles and thought back to her younger days when Amare took it upon himself to teach her some of the combat skills he had to learn for his days as a secret operative. Even though she was a healer, Nia sure was scrappy and could hold her own. It had been a while, though, and she was sure she had forgotten her training over the years.

A bell rang on the other side of the training room, and all of the fighting ceased. Okoye bowed her head in deference as a tall, muscular older woman in red emerged from an observation room and smiled softly in her direction.

“My king,” the woman saluted T’Challa, making all of the fighters whip their heads around and salute him as well. The woman crossed the floor as her trainees stood at attention, and grabbed Okoye’s hands in hers. “Okoye, my dear, it has been too long.”

“Priestess Yaa, how good to see you.”

“And my king, welcome to the Temple of Kokou.”

“Thank you, priestess.”

“What brings you here?” she asked before shooting a sly glance at Okoye. “You never come visit anymore, so I know it must be important.”

“My apologies for keeping her from you,” T’Challa interjected.

“None needed. I knew when Okoye became general that she would have little time for us anymore,” Yaa waved him off and smiled proudly at Okoye before her eyes fell to Nia. “And who is this?”

“Nia Olu,” she respectfully bowed her head.

“And you are a fighter too, no?”

“Um, not exactly. My father taught me how to fight when I was young, but I am a healer and a devotee of Bast.”

This was the first T’Challa had heard of her knowledge of combat, and he wondered what else he didn’t know about her.

“I’m sure it’s still in there somewhere. You have a warrior’s spirit.”

Nia was surprised by the priestess’ comment but thanked her nonetheless.

“Priestess Yaa, we have a problem that you might be able to help us solve,” the king stated.

Yaa nodded and called to her class, “Keep sparring. I’ll be back.”

The room came alive again, and Nia couldn’t help but watch the dozens of bodies moving about with powerful grace as they fought.

Yaa gestured for them to follow her, and she led them around a corner to get away from all the noise. “How can I help you, my king?”

“Bast is missing, and we would like to ask Kokou if he knows where she is,” he cut straight to the point, and Yaa appreciated his brevity.

She gestured again, and the four of them relocated to the other side of the temple. They entered a large, empty room with nothing except a wall of ancient weapons and a huge, raging fire pit in the center.

“This eternal flame was gifted to us by Kokou many millennia ago as a way of contacting him,” Yaa narrated. “In order for him to answer, you will each have to give a sacrifice.”

“I didn’t bring anything to-”

“Blood, dear. You sacrifice blood. He is the god of war, after all,” Yaa chuckled as she glided over to the wall of weapons. Her fingers danced along the flat side of the blade of a vibranium dagger with a red and gold hilt before wrapping her hand firmly around the grip and removing it from its position. Yaa tested the weight of it in her hand as she rejoined the group. Without warning, she sliced her palm open and allowed her blood to drip into the flame. The priestess noticed the look of horror on Nia’s face and attempted to quell her fears. “Don’t worry; you’ll only need a drop or two.”

Okoye was first to step up, pressing the dagger’s tip into her hand and drawing a small amount of blood. She handed the dagger to T’Challa as she made a fist and let her blood droplets fall into the fire pit. The king did the same before passing the dagger to Nia. She looked at it apprehensively, but T’Challa continued to hold it out for her to take.

“Go on, dear,” Yaa urged. “We will heal you up after.”

Nia and T’Challa locked eyes as they were both reminded of the night they became reacquainted with one another. T’Challa’s wound would quickly heal on its own, but she wouldn’t be able to use her powers to heal herself in Yaa’s and Okoye’s presence. She took a deep breath and tried to ignore the feeling of her palm stinging with the memory of alcohol pads. T’Challa knew where her mind had wandered to and took her formerly injured hand in his as he ran his thumb over her palm.

“It won’t be as bad as last time,” he whispered so only Nia could hear him. “Just a little cut, ok?”

Nia’s mouth dried up, and her eyes traveled to Okoye and Yaa. The priestess seemed intrigued by his tenderness towards her, but the irritation on Okoye’s face was clear as day. Nia remembered that he was a serial charmer and removed her hand from his. She reached for the dagger and quickly pricked her finger, squeezing a couple of droplets into the flame.

Yaa set the dagger aside to be cleaned and watched as the flames grew in intensity. All four of them stepped back when the fire surged towards the sky and took the vague shape of a man.

“Kokou,” Yaa fell to her knees, and the others followed her lead. “Thank you for answering our call.”

“Where is the fight?” his voice boomed around the expansive room as what looked to be his head swiveled from side to side taking in the four who summoned him. He had no eyes, but Nia felt his gaze land on her and linger for a moment too long.

“There is no fight this time, but we have an inquiry,” Yaa said as she stood.

“Very well,” Kokou’s voice rang out again, and the flames whipped in T’Challa’s direction. “What is so important that the king requires my assistance? Have you not a god of your own?”

T’Challa looked to Yaa for reassurance as he began to stand, and she nodded for him to continue. “Yes, I do, but she is missing.”

“Missing?! What do you mean missing?”

“She has not spoken to me in weeks, and Thoth has not seen or heard from her either.”

Kokou turned back to Nia. “And you have not heard from her?”

“No, sir,” Nia stood tall as she answered him.

“I am surprised she has not spoken to you of all...people,” he said with a mischievous lilt in his voice. Nia stilled as she realized that he knew what she was. She slyly made eye contact with T’Challa, and though his expression was unreadable, she knew he had to have heard it, too.

“You know, blood can tell you a lot about a person...or being,” Kokou began to pace around the large fire pit. “Who they are, what their lineage is...you, Nia, are very special. But I am sure you know that already, don’t you?”

Nia ignored the confused stares from Yaa and Okoye and stared straight into where she assumed Kokou’s eyes to be. “Yes, sir.”

“Good.”

“Kokou-”

“Patience, your highness,” the god chastised T’Challa, “I was getting to it. I just had to take a little detour first since you brought me such an interesting young lady. Now, to answer your question: sorry to disappoint, but no. I do not know where Bast is. I wish I did, though; she is an excellent sparring partner.”

Nia and T’Challa both deflated a little bit. They had hoped for a better answer than that.

“Thank you, Kokou,” T’Challa spoke with his head bowed to the god. The others did the same, and just as quickly as he had appeared, Kokou was gone.

--------

“Third time’s the charm,” T’Challa mumbled as he held the intricate iron gate open. Nia and Okoye walked through, and the general was blown away by the beauty before them. The botanical gardens sat on a protected stretch of land on the border between the Mining and River provinces, but people from all over the country traveled there to witness its splendor.

Nia, however, was no stranger to the gardens. She made sure to visit a few times a year just to sit and commune with the diverse group of plants, but she never knew it doubled as a place of worship. She liked that the gardens were never full of people, and depending on how deep she veered off the main walkways, she could avoid the public altogether. Except for the delightful presence of one of the attendants, Nia always managed to find solitude and serenity among the plants of the botanical gardens.

“Has this always been Mujaji’s temple?” she asked as the three of them followed the long, winding path that led to the greenhouses in the back of the gardens.

“As far as I’m aware. Why?”

“It’s just that I’ve been here before, and I never knew. I always felt like there was...something here, but I just assumed I was feeling the energy from all of the plants.”

“You can do that?” Okoye asked, and she caught another shared glance between Nia and the king. They had been doing that all day, and she was growing tired of it.

Nia opened her mouth to try to fix her slip-up, but she was saved when a young woman about her age emerged from behind a mango tree and recognized her colorful headwrap.

“Nia?”

“Sukutai!”

Nia ran over to her, and the women embraced. A smile crept up T’Challa’s cheeks at seeing Nia’s faint glow again, but, unfortunately, it seemed that Okoye might have seen it as well. The king ignored her pointed stares and continued to watch Nia and the woman from afar.

“What are you doing here? It’s been months since I saw you last!” Sukutai playfully scolded her before leaning in like she had a secret to tell. “You have to see the new fire lily blooms; I know they’re your favorite.”

“They are,” Nia chuckled, “but I’m here on business today.”

“Business?”

Nia gestured behind her, and Sukutai’s eyes widened in shock as she finally noticed T’Challa and Okoye standing in the distance.

“My apologies, my king,” she quickly saluted him, but he waved her off.

“None needed. Any friend of Nia’s is a friend of mine.”

Sukutai’s eyebrows almost reached her hairline as she turned back to Nia. “I know we don’t know each other very well, but how come you never told me you knew the king?”

“He’s new,” Nia shrugged nonchalantly.

Sukutai shook her head fondly at her friend as T’Challa and Okoye came to stand next to her.

“What brings you to my humble garden, your highness?”

“I would say this is anything but humble, priestess,” he chuckled. This time it was Nia’s turn to be surprised.

“Priestess?!”

“Yeah, I don’t like to advertise it,” Sukutai shrugged.

“Well, I guess we both have our secrets,” Nia teased, making her friend giggle.

“I guess we do.”

“Sukutai, we are here because we need to speak with Mujaji. Bast is missing and-”

“You need to see if he knows where she is.”

“Yes,” T’Challa nodded.

“Right this way,” Sukutai said as she stuck her elbow out for Nia. She wrapped her arm around it, and the two of them took off, chatting about the flora they passed on the way.

Sukutai led them to the back of the botanical gardens towards the greenhouses. There were several smaller ones scattered around that were about the size of Nia’s home, but the very last greenhouse was huge. It stood about two stories tall and expanded across an acre of land.

“How did I miss this?” Nia wondered aloud.

“You weren’t looking for it,” Sukutai winked. “Too distracted by the pretty flowers, as usual.”

“You should really pay more attention to your surroundings, Nia,” T’Challa teased, and she narrowed her eyes at him. Despite the fact that she was still very hesitant to trust Nia, Okoye had to stifle a chuckle at her attitude. It was refreshing for her to see a woman that seemed to be immune to his charms.

The four of them entered the greenhouse, and Nia was amazed at what she saw. Instead of beautiful flowers and lush trees and bushes, there were rows and rows of crops.

“I knew you had some fruit trees, but I didn’t know you grew other foods here, too,” she said with her mouth wide open.

“We have to. Who do you think taught us how to work the land?”

Nia nodded as she soaked up Sukutai’s words. It had never occurred to her that the humans had to learn agriculture from somewhere...or someone. She wondered if aziza had learned from him, too, and if so, why hadn’t she heard about it? Were their history books incomplete, too? Nia’s train of thought was cut short as they arrived at the center of the greenhouse. There was a large patch of soil surrounded by an old stone wall no more than two feet tall. A small plaque near the opening caught the visitors’ eyes, and they crowded around to read it.

“The first garden?” Nia gasped, and her eyes traveled to the rich soil.

Sukutai smiled proudly, “That’s right. This is where Wakandans first learned how to grow sorghum. Mujaji’s magic still inhabits the land, and he allows us to speak to him through it.”

“How does it work?” T’Challa asked, equally in awe of the plot of land that allowed his people to prosper. Yes, they had vibranium, but what use would that be without the ability to feed themselves? Had they remained hunter-gatherers, they never would have gotten to where they are today.

“I’ll show you,” Sukutai said as she untied her shoes. “Nia, would you like to help?”

“M-me?”

“Yes, you, silly. You have the heart and hands of a gardener.”

“What do you need me to do?”

“First thing’s first, shoes off,” Sukutai instructed, and Nia slid out of her sandals. “Now, you see those jars full of seeds over there?”

Sukutai gestured behind them, and they all turned around to follow her line of vision.

“Yes,” Nia’s voice shook as she spoke.

“Don’t worry about what each one is. Just go pick whichever one calls to you.”

Nia nodded and padded her way over to the table covered in glass jars. She felt the power radiating from each one, but she felt compelled to pick up a small jar full of green coffee beans. Her hand instinctively reached out to touch it, but she pulled back and looked to the priestess for permission.

“Go ahead, take one,” Sukutai urged, and Nia carefully screwed the top off. She reached in and grabbed one of the beans, and walked back over to Sukutai.

“Ok, how does this work?”

“We start with a yes or no question. Let’s try ‘Do you know where Bast is?’ and go from there, ok?”

“Ok.”

“Follow me.”

Sukutai stepped onto the sacred land, and Nia did the same. The ground seemed to vibrate, and Nia’s face lit up. The slight glow returned to her skin, and this time Okoye was sure in what her eyes beheld. She quickly turned towards T’Challa, who looked at her out of the corner of his eye but kept quiet. He shifted his weight away from her nervously and continued to watch Nia and Sukutai work.

“You feel it too, huh?” Sukutai asked with a sly smile on her face.

“It feels...it feels like my feet are buzzing.”

Sukutai’s head cocked to the side, and her eyes narrowed as she tried to understand exactly what was happening. Nia obviously wasn’t a priestess of Mujaji, yet his magic spoke to her in some way. That wasn’t normal, and neither was the faint highlight that appeared on her skin.

“Yeah, it does,” she agreed and shook the suspicions out of her head. She knelt to the ground, and Nia followed suit. “Hold the seed in your hands, close to your face- yes, just like that. Now, close your eyes and let it feel your energy. When you are ready, speak to it. Ask your question.”

Nia shut her eyes and focused on the feeling of the seed in her hands. She pictured it growing big and strong, and after a few moments, her mouth was filled with the taste of coffee. It was ready. She brought it closer to her lips and whispered, “Do you know where Bast is?”

When she peeled her eyes open, she saw a huge grin on Sukutai’s face.

“You’re a natural.”

“Thanks,” Nia giggled. “What now?”

“Now you plant it.”

“Anywhere?”

“Wherever you choose.”

Nia studied the ground around her and turned a little to the left. She held the seed in her left hand as she made a small mound in the dirt with her right. She gave the seed one last glance before pushing it into the soil.

“No water?” she asked.

Sukutai shook her head with a mischievous smile, “No need.”

“Ok...so now we wait?”

“It won’t take long. Usually about-” Sukutai’s eyes widened. “Look!”

Four sets of eyes trained on the tiny green sprout that pushed up from the ground.

“It’s never happened that fast before.”

The sprout turned into a seedling, and the seedling matured right before their eyes. Just as hope began to fill the air, it left, and the coffee plant shriveled up. The leaves turned brown, then a murky black before decomposing entirely. Everyone’s shoulders slumped in defeat, and silence descended upon the group. Without even asking, they all knew it was a resounding “no.”

--------

The silence was thick on the ride back to Nia’s. Okoye flew the Talon with a million questions running through her mind, all of which seemed to come back to Nia. Who is she? What is she?

Nia left her position by the window, no longer interested in the ground below, and met T’Challa by his sand table. She watched for a moment as the molecules dispersed and recollected themselves in the shapes of the temples they just visited and the gods they just contacted. He chewed on his lip as he tried to put the pieces together, but there just wasn’t enough information.

“T’Challa?” Nia spoke softly to keep Okoye from hearing.

“Hm?” he grunted without looking up.

“What if the problem isn't in this realm?”

The king tore his eyes away from the table, and the sand fell flat.

“You are suggesting we go to the magic realm?”

“Again with the ‘we,’” she sighed. “No, I’m suggesting I go to the magic realm.”

He stared at her blankly for a moment before calling out to Okoye, “General?”

“Yes, my king?”

“You will travel back to the palace alone-”

“No-” Nia tried to stop him.

“I will be staying with Nia a little while longer. I will call when I need you.”

“Yes, my king.”

Nia dragged her hand down her face, then immediately looked down and noticed the clay that had transferred to her palm. She pinched the bridge of her nose and groaned in frustration, both at the king and at her careless mistake.

“T’Challa, I just said-”

“I know what you said,” he snipped, “but this is my kingdom, and I need to know what’s going on.”

“But-”

“I’m going with you, and that’s final.” He turned away and joined Okoye in the cockpit.

Nia sat off to the side and pouted the rest of the way home. When they arrived, Okoye reluctantly left the king behind and flew off to the palace.

“She could’ve just stayed outside, you know,” Nia fussed as they entered her home. “Now she definitely knows something is up.”

He rolled his eyes, “She knew something was up the moment you started glowing.”

Nia froze and mentally kicked herself for not using the glamor spell her ubaba had taught her. She was in such a rush that morning that it completely slipped her mind. The smug look on T’Challa’s face made her want to slap him, so she stormed down the hall to her bathroom to fix her facepaint. As soon as she finished, Nia heard the king make a strange noise and looked out to see what he had done. A laugh erupted from her belly as she watched the king stand on the couch to get away from Sego. He glared at her, but his eyes promptly fell back on the python that was too close for comfort.

“Call off your snake!”

“Python,” she giggled. “Sego, stop messing with him, please.”

Sego turned her way, and Nia could see the playful look in his eyes. He thoroughly enjoyed messing with the king. T’Challa climbed down from the couch and let out a calming breath as Sego slithered away to the kitchen.

“So the mighty Black Panther is scared of pythons, huh?” she mocked him as she leaned against the doorframe.

“Not scared...I just don’t like them.”

“Mhm. If it makes you feel any better, he’s not fully a python. He’s a shifter.”

“Meaning…”

“Meaning sometimes he’s in his human form, sometimes he’s in his python form.”

T’Challa thought about it for a moment. “Actually, that does make me feel better. Thanks.”

Nia smirked and rolled her eyes.

“So,” T’Challa cleared his throat, “what now?”

“First, we go see my ubaba, then the queen.”

“Ok...how do we, you know, get there?”

“It’s easy,” she bragged as she walked over to him. “Give me your hand, and I’ll show you.”

Nia reached out to him, and when their hands connected, an image of the two of them sharing a feverish kiss popped into her mind. She gasped and pulled back as though she had touched a hot stove.

“What is it?!”

“N-nothing, I just,” she had to think of something quick. ��My headwrap. I take it off when I go to the magic realm...to, uh, let my ears breathe, you know?”

“Um, ok.”

Nia hurried from the room and left T’Challa standing there, confused about what just happened. He knew she was lying despite the fact that her excuse had some semblance of truth to it. Thanks to the heart-shaped herb, T’Challa could hear her heartbeat, and something had caused her heart to almost beat out of her chest. His suspicions didn’t last for long, though, because when she came back from her room, his jaw dropped. Of course, he had noticed her beauty the first time, well the second time, he laid eyes on her, but as she came down the hallway fluffing her coils out into an afro that framed her face like an obsidian halo, he felt a knot form in his chest.

“Ready?” she asked, obviously over whatever had been bothering her.

“Yeah,” T’Challa cleared his throat. He was suddenly parched. “Ready.”

“Ok.” She grabbed his hands again, but this time there was no vision. Nia sighed in relief and looked him dead in his eyes as the atmosphere around them began to thicken. “Be cool. Don’t embarrass me.”

Next Chapter

Taglist: @maddeningmayhem, @theblulife, @motheroffae, @love-mesome-me, @toni9, @bribrisback, @dersha89, @impremenior, @ljstraightnochaser, @love--life--passion, @yourstrulybrii

[delldarling]

flinch | rivulet & alethea

male octomer x female human 2215 words lemon | 3rd POV, mention of alcohol, mention of drowning, darker themes, tentacles, mild description of cis female parts, our octomer lad is definitely on the villainous side but everything is (and will always) be consensual mermay prompt: 'tentacles' and 'if there is angst who am i to complain' and 'ALL 11 HERBS AND SPICES'

────── {⋅. 🌊 .⋅} ──────

Rivulet is a delicate name, depicting the soft, sinuous trickling of liquid over stone. Over skin. It's a pretty name, gentle on the ears, and paired with Rivulet's handsome face, it’s far more than most need to lose their train of thought. His sweet, earnest voice and his nervously tangled tentacles leave most everyone tripping over their own tongues to assuage his apparent nervousness The slow blink of his eyelids, lashes thick over the human-pink arch of his cheeks, fool everyone into thinking he’s kind, into thinking that they can and will get everything they want out of him.

Alethea thought that once too.   

She’s never been blind to his blatant machinations though, having come from the surface world where humans wear false faces day in and out for work. She’s spent years witness to cherub cheeked smiles and simpering platitudes, and it’s easy enough to recognize that kind of mask if you know what it is that you’re looking for. Here in the depths though, any hint of human appearance and warmth is cherished. Coveted, and all manner of things are ignored or purposefully forgotten in the hopes that they might be allowed a taste. Never mind that Rivulet is no more human than the lionfish Mer he’s chatting up, his upper body looks like one, and that makes him popular.

But they believe they can trust him, Alethea thinks, lip curling into a sneer when she catches sight of Rivulet’s flushed cheeks. That he doesn’t have ulterior motives because he’s one of them. Idiots. This deep beneath the surface, his kaleidoscopic hair has turned to shadows and faint flashes of blue, highlighting the pink over his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. He’s beautiful, like a moonlit prince underneath the glowing blue coral ceiling, straight out of a seaside fairy tale.

“Or a nightmare,” Alethea mutters, relishing the faint trail of bubbles that slip free of her lips. She pretends the swift slide of them are barbs, prickling incessantly at Rivulet’s curling tentacles. At least then he would have a reason to fidget about with them, no better than a child scuffing his shoe in the dirt when they attempt to charm an elder. Alethea swallows, eyes closing tight. Keeping herself angry is so difficult. 

She sets down her half empty scallop shell, still gleaming with the dense violet substance that passes for alcohol here, and turns to go, swimming slowly so as to avoid drawing too much attention. Rivulet’s presence has guaranteed that the night will be anything but restful. She doesn’t get far before something cool lashes about her ankle, yanking her to a stop. Alethea knows exactly who it is, even before she turns her head to make sure of it. 

“Leaving already?” Rivulet asks, and the other Merfolk in the vicinity all turn to watch out of the corner of their eyes. They crowd a little closer on all sides, eager to see some kind of show or steal some of the warmth that radiates off of Alethea. Rivulet, at least, is here for something more. He’s hoping to pick up where they left off, and Alethea’s theory is all but confirmed when his eyes dip to the heavy, enchanted necklace around her throat. The gift of the Tide King, and a human’s only passport down in the Trenches. Her nose wrinkles, toes curling as she yanks at her ankle, trying to loosen Rivulet’s grip without letting her anger get the best of her. A smirk blooms on his lips, his horizontal pupils chasing away the silver of his eyes. He softens the expression into a genteel smile when the other folk begin to whisper.

“I suggest you remove your appendage,” Alethea says, deathly soft. She lets the flow of the water carry her closer, thankful when her hair shifts, hiding her face from onlookers. Alethea bares her teeth. “Or I will remove it for you.”

Rivulet doesn’t laugh, though she can see the thought of it pass through his head. If Rivulet wanted to ensnare her, Alethea wouldn’t be able to get free—he’s in no danger. He lets go of her ankle, purposefully trailing the suckers of his tentacle over her bared flesh, letting them catch at the hem of her trousers before he finally lets the tentacle fall. She takes a breath, but Rivulet seizes her wrists instead, pouting at her like she’s shut him out for nothing more than a trivial mess. A few of the surrounding Merfolk start to laugh. “Must we continue this tiresome exercise?” He asks, voice pitched low. He’ll play for the crowd, happily work them like a swindler, but his business has always been his own. “There’s no shame in letting anyone drown you with-”

Alethea can barely see through the surge of her own anger. "Poor choice of words, Riv. Now: Back off.”

Rivulet lets go, holding up both hands. His tentacles twist and lash uselessly in the water, but he doesn’t make any sudden grabs for Alethea when she kicks, swimming backwards to put more than a hands-breadth of space between them. Some of the other folk shift in place, fins and tails twitching, but none of them interrupt Rivulet and Alethea’s quiet, but very public separation. Rivulet hums, catching sight of her darting eyes and dips his head, like he’s ashamed. When he slides closer, tentacles catching at the floor of the Trenches to propel him, Alethea forces herself to stay still. “Later?” He whispers, a single tentacle weaving over her knuckles in an attempt to imitate lacing fingers. The other Merfolk, even Rivulet himself, are probably waiting for her to forgive him straight away. 

Alethea pulls her hand free. She refuses to answer and damn herself, but she doesn’t know how much that actually matters. Everyone in the vicinity can read the emotions in her like a book. She’s unbearably angry, but everything about her, from the tension in her shoulders to the twitch of her fingers, spells out one thing. She wants to throw all her caution to the current and say: Yes.

────── {⋅. 🌊 .⋅} ──────

Rivulet doesn’t say a word when Alethea slips in, clothed in nothing but her necklace. He smiles, because of course he does, all saccharine sweetness and knowing eyes, strange pupils curling into inhuman shapes as he catches her hands with his own. Tentacles whisper over her knees and down the sides of her calves, ready, reaching, but going no farther. She wishes he would say something, wishes he would open his stupid, lovely mouth, if only because it might make her change her mind. She shouldn’t have come here.

She kisses him anyway. Pulls her hands swiftly out of his so she can take hold of his face, pressing too-quick kisses to the corner of his mouth before he tilts his head to meet her lips head on. 

Whatever patience Rivulet was holding onto vanishes. His tentacles lash around her thighs, his arms circling her to trap her wrists at the small of her back. He takes the kiss over, tongue slipping between Alethea’s lips to muffle any noise she might make—though no one else is around to hear any of it.  

Breath still slips out from between their mouths, pinprick bubbles tickling over lips and cheekbones. The sensation reminds Alethea of anger, the way it skitters over skin until everything feels tight and over sensitive. Her teeth find his lower lip, but that only makes Rivulet groan, hands squeezing around her wrists. Bound as she is, it gives Riv free rein to touch where he will, always hungry for the heat and softness of her skin—and the layer of magic that keeps her safe from the pressure of the depths. It buzzes whenever Riv touches her, as if it recognizes the potential threat of him, but he uses it to his advantage. 

Alethea turns her head, gasping for oxygen through the magical filter, sagging in his arms. She ignores Rivulet’s smug grin, closing her eyes to shut out the sight of him, which is exactly when his mouth closes around her nipple. Alethea jerks, eyes flashing open as Riv tugs at her wrists, bowing her further back. He has better access this way, sucking and flicking his rough tongue over the nub of flesh. She trembles, impatient for him to move on, but unable to tear her eyes away. Riv looks drunk on the heat of her, eyes gone heavy lidded, cheeks hollowing. He still looks like a prince, with shadowy hair and his pink lips, but there’s nothing innocent looking about him now, mouth working as he slowly coaxes her legs apart. He slips one of his tentacles between her thighs, dragging the suckers back and forth over her clit, humming around her nipple as she writhes. 

The pop as he removes his mouth is muted, but the sight of it, tongue flicking out to chase the taste of her, is enough to distract Alethea for a few seconds. He wriggles the end of one of his tentacles inside her while she’s staring. It’s slim, and slick, despite the surrounding ocean, but he corkscrews the appendage, making Alethea throw her head back with a shriek as it fills her. Riv laughs, moving with the arch of her hips.

“Shut up,” Alethea says from behind gritted teeth, wishing she could appear unaffected, that she could stop the shaking of her limbs and how eagerly her body responds. A thought passes behind his eyes, but he sighs rather than speaks, bending his mouth to her other nipple, and bites. A sucker settles over her clit when she screams.

Rivulet’s mouth goes slack, teeth gentling as he concentrates. The tentacles around her legs loosen, and tighten, a strange stroking that serves as a reminder of strength. His hands leave her wrists, the slick slide of another tentacle taking their place as he lifts his head. He stares, trailing fingers along her sides, strangely pupiled eyes focused on nothing but her panting mouth.

“If you wait,” Riv says softly, the tentacle inside of her writhing, “if you just wait, I can make you feel even better. Would you like that? Don’t you want that?”

Alethea closes her eyes.

────── {⋅. 🌊 .⋅} ──────

Rivulet wants Alethea. He’s always wanted her, shooting her fuck-me looks whenever their paths crossed throughout that first month. He used every excuse he had to attend the banquets the Tide King held, flirting with her all the while. She’d been foolish at first, thinking him little better than the other Merfolk vying for her attention. He didn’t treat her like them though, kept seeking her out, coaxing her into laughing, into enjoying his company. She’d fallen in with the rest of the warmth chasers, thinking he would be nothing more than a bed partner during her stay here, but the illusion hadn’t lasted long.

Rivulet wants Alethea, but he wants knowledge too. He wants the enchanted necklace hanging around her throat. He wants to pick it apart, to figure out how it works without having to lend his abilities to the Tide King or the enchanters under his employ. He wants to carve a permanent place for her here down in the Trenches that doesn’t involve being one of the Tide King’s tourists. Wants to free her from the figurative shackles that keep her within the boundaries of the Tide King’s domain.

She just has to drown.

Riv is lovely, and charming, and knows exactly how to drive Alethea over the edge and keep her coming back. He wants her, her mind, her presence, and would like nothing more than to keep her by his side. But to stay, she has to change, to give up her ability to breathe on land, to give up her legs and the face she’s always known. 

“There are other ways!” Rivulet had assured her after he’d finally confessed his plans, tentacle sliding over her wrist to gauge her pulse. “If I can snare one of his other guests, I’ll be more than happy to take their necklace. In fact, it would be preferable, if I’m being honest. I would rather attempt the spell on another before risking you, and who knows?” Rivulet had turned, pulling Alethea along with him, tentacles wrapping around her hips. “I may be able to amend the spell, and keep that lovely face of yours.” He hadn’t flinched when she’d told him that sounded like murder. 

She should be flinching. Alethea should be going back to the surface and staying there. She should be telling the Tide King or his other guests about this. Warning them. She doesn’t want Riv to experiment on anyone, even if it might end up with her being able to stay permanently. But a small, selfish part of her wants to keep the days the Tide King promised. Three more months. Three more months of swimming along the ocean floor and discovering all of the wonders kept beneath the waves. Three more months of Rivulet, and watching Merfolk fall over themselves to flirt with him while he secretly flutters his eyelashes at her, a joke only they share. Three more months of his hands and tentacles on her, slipping between her thighs and making her shake to pieces.

Alethea knows she can’t have it. Not… Not all of it.

────── {⋅. 🌊 .⋅} ──────

[pars-ley]

Fists and a Smart mouth

Pairing: Namjoon x female reader 

Summary: When a rich cowboy moves into town you can't stand him, more so when he attempts to make some drastic changes but with a secret of your own he soon finds out that you'll protect your town and your privacy by any means necessary.

Genre: Idiots to lovers / Enemies to lovers / Angst / Smut / Wild west au / Cowboy au / One shot

Rating: 18+ (NSFW)

Warnings: Abusive ex / Mentions of stabbing (not detailed description) / Guns / Talk of scars / Shooting (not described) / Oral (f receiving) / Sex / Minor character death

Word count: 8100

Project: Bts writers collective secret santa 2020

A/N: This is for my Secret Santa @joontopia​ I was not planning it to be anything like this but it took on a mind of it’s own as I wrote, so my apologies. It’s not the fluffiest thing I’ve written but I really, really hope you enjoy this. If you have an issue with any of the warnings, message me and I will try and edit it for you. It was really lovely getting to know you through asks and trolling your page for clues and info about yourself. Enjoy ❤

Thank you to @moccahobi​ for beta reading this and @birbdae​ also, your comments helped me a lot, it’s much appreciated. And thank you to @wheresmymoniat​ for being a general angel and reading along the way, with your endless encouragement when I’m unsure of my writing.

Two months since Namjoon moved to town.

"Have you heard?" one of your usual patrons, Hoseok, asked, leaning discreetly across the bar.

You look over with a questioning eyebrow. "Heard what?" you reply, half listening and half keeping an eye on Taehyung over on the piano. After one too many beers, you wanted to make sure he wasn't about to put a fist through the keys, with his wild playing; giving the room a personal concert.

"Namjoon's planning on building a mall." he whispers, glancing around suspiciously.

The empty glass you're drying slams against the counter as you turn and face him. 

"How do you know this?" you ask, voice low and uneven with anger.

"I heard him talking to Seokjin about it, he wants his help with planning."

Seokjin, the local and resident builder, he's also the best builder in the state. You knew him well enough to know that he wouldn't want to help with something like that. He wouldn't want to change this town...but maybe for the right price? We all know Namjoon has money, the way he flashes it around like a Hollywood star meant it was not a secret and he didn't want it to be. Even so, you highly doubt Seokjin would accept such an offer.

Doubt starts creeping in, an ugly voice whispering in the back of your mind.

"Hey, Jimin! Can you take over for me?" you call over to him. 

He nods, joining you behind the bar instantly, as you grab your brown fringe-jacket and head out to Seokjin's ranch. You had to know if there was substance to this and not just rumours whispered between the townsfolk.

As your truck raced along the dirt roads, the sound of the roaring engine doing nothing to calm your mind, with flashing images, slicing their way behind your eyes like projector slides. Big corporate buildings, a shopping mall, more city folk, modernisation...not that you were against it. You just didn't want it here. That's what drew you to this place in the beginning a few years ago, that's why you stayed and built a life for yourself, that's why a lot of people stay here, for the vintage, small town life.

You fling your door open before your truck had even come to a stop and you waltzed straight up to Seokjin's front door. Your knuckles making loud contact as they rapped furiously against it.

He opens it with a frown, his face softening when he sees it's you but quickly his expression turns weary from the tense expression you hold.

"What's-"

"Are you helping Namjoon build a mall?" you demand, in no mood to be messed around.

His jaw tenses and he nods for you to come inside.

Storming into his living room too infuriated  to sit, you stand and face him, arms folded, waiting for his response and dreading his answer.

"He did approach me about it but I said no. Did you really think I'd say anything but?" He shook his head at you, disappointment obvious on his face and immediate guilt rising inside you in response.

Your shoulders relax as you let out a breath you didn't realise you'd been holding. "I had to check before I assumed anything."

You slump down on the sofa, leaning your head back and staring up at his slacked ceiling. "Why is he doing this?"

He lets out a laugh as he joins you on the couch. "Now, you know the answer to that. Money. It's all he cares about. He saw an opportunity for something and he's taking it. End of."

You rub your eyes, trying to ease the tension created from your anger pounding inside your head, desperate to escape like some caged, wild animal. "If I went to see him with my gun, do you think it would change his mind?"

He laughs again. "I don't think he'd change his mind even if you shot him, sweetheart." A groan rumbles inside you, the idea of him being so stubborn, makes your fist want to connect with his jaw. "That's not deterring me from doing it."

"If he's going to do it, there's not much we can do." he shrugs and puts his feet up on his wooden coffee table, the wood dipping slightly on impact.

Fury lights your insides anew. You stand, striding across the room, "Like hell there isn't." you say, as you storm out and head off ready for a confrontation with the person you hate the most in this entire town.

You expect your wrath to have died down somewhat on your ride over but, to your pleasant surprise, it hasn't.

You come to a halt outside his ranch, looking over his land and the new building he spent ages preparing to become a hotel...an empty one at that.

After hammering on his door so hard the hinges rattled, he strangely and calmly invites you inside his house.

"You really should see someone about your anger issues. It's not healthy for one person to harbour so much...rage." he says, in such a condescending manner you clench your jaw to stop yourself from lashing out. You'd only be proving him right. 

Something about him got to you, you two have clashed since the moment he arrived in this town, and he knew exactly how to play it too.

"The only issue I have, Namjoon, is you."

He sighs. "I would very much like you on board with this. I don't want to have you fighting the inevitable."

"The inevitable." you gasp with angered amusement, "as long as I'm living in this town, this is anything but inevitable."

"Why do you hate this idea so much?" he asks perplexed, with simultaneous interest and bemusement.

"Someone like you would not understand." You fold your arms in an attempt to hold in the pointless angry words you feel boiling inside.

He shrugs. "I would like to try. Humour me."

You let out an exasperated sigh, tired of the anger, tired of being so closed off but you had no choice but to be exactly that. "Some people have come here to enjoy the small town life." you reply simply, not having the trust in him or yourself to say more.

"And maybe some people have come here to escape something?" 

You freeze, heart stopping before pounding so violently against your ribcage, you're sure it's echo fills the room.

He watches you carefully, searching your eyes and all you can do is stare back.

"You know, I did some research after our first encounter…"

You swallow, trying to ease the choking sensation in your throat.

"...I'm usually good at finding any useful information about people…"

He walks slowly around his kitchen island to you. You couldn't move even if you wanted to, your feet frozen to the spot but wanting to run, fighting for you to run.

"...But you...I couldn't find a single thing about you."

Your eyes connect with his as he towers above you, searching for your own answers, needing to find out what he knows.

"Don't you find that odd?" he asks.

Your mind races inside your frozen stature. You could not tell a man like Namjoon anything. You could not trust him. He will ruin this life you've made and turn it upside down.

"Well, I found it very odd. It's like you don't even exist...so that got me intrigued and asking some questions."

Your stomach drops as small beads of sweat break out across your forehead, the sudden heat under your flannel shirt almost unbearable.

"And do you know what I found out?" he taps his chin, drawing out the tension purposefully and making you want to headbutt the smug look off his face.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. No one knows a personal thing about you."

The relief you feel inside makes you want to collapse to your knees and thank gods you don’t believe in.

"That is, if they're being honest. I know you like to protect your own in communities like this. But it definitely has me wondering…?"

He waits for a response this time.

"What?" your voice comes out a raspy whisper, his words leaving the taste of ash in your dry mouth.

"What are you hiding?"

You steel yourself, remembering just how pathetic of a man he is and let's face it, you've dealt with much scarier things than him. "Even if I was hiding something, I'd certainly never tell the likes of you."

You turn and head towards his door, when you hear his voice again. 

"I'm not stupid enough to believe we'll be friends, you know but I would like us to at least be civil."

You let out a bitter laugh. "You can keep dreaming, pretty boy." You storm out, slamming his door hard enough for the glass to rattle in it’s wooden frame.

Three and a half months since Namjoon moved to town.

He's wasted, completely inebriated. You watch from behind the bar, getting ready to close, as he fumbles for the keys to his truck.

He came quietly into the bar this afternoon, face like thunder, ordering drink, after drink, after drink, no other words spoken. Most unusual for the chatty Kathy he is.

You've never seen him so drunk - so vulnerable. You wonder if perhaps something has happened. But, honestly, do you really care?

The keys slam to the floor and he goes head first into the driver's side door as he bends to retrieve them, face down in the dirt.

You shouldn't let him drive home. Definitely not.

Quickly shrugging on your jacket and grabbing your keys, locking the bar doors behind you as you rush over to him.

"Hey, big guy, come on, let's get you up." you throw his arm around your shoulders and use all your strength to get him on his feet and on balance. 

"I don't...need...your help." he mumbles, leaning into you, almost ready to pass out.

You open his truck door and shove him in, sliding him over as you climb in beside him. He doesn't notice as you pry the keys from his weak grip and start the engine.

Driving to his ranch would be a mistake; the pretentious layout of it would mean you would have to walk him much further than you think you actually could. Not without dropping him a few times, although that's not a bad idea.

You sigh as you drive down the winding dirt road that led to your land. The idea of having this man in your house would usually have infuriated you. But after seeing the sadness that clouded his eyes this morning you...felt for him.

You once told him he must have a miserable existence, being surrounded by money and not love. You wince at the memory. You were no different, except you weren't surrounded by either, how miserable does that make you?

As you pull up to your ranch, you look over to him, passed out, face squashed against the glass of the window. You wonder what secrets he must have, what sadness he's known, what dreams he’s had. How does someone get to be the way he is? 

There are surely a few people who would ask that very question about you. Only, you had a reason...have a reason. One you will never be free from. You push the thoughts away, back down into the pit they're buried into. No time to dwell in self pity. You're in this position through no fault but you're own, you bought it on yourself and now you have to live with those choices. 

You practically carry him the few steps to the front door and over to the sofa. He stumbles and almost trips over your rug but you hoist him up, almost injuring yourself in the process. You practically throw him onto the couch, where he tries to hold himself up but fails and collapses into the pillow you shove under him.

"I wish…" he starts, slurring every word. "I wish I was more like you." 

"No, you don't." You reply into the thick silence that envelopes you in a inescapable cage.

His eyelids close and immediately a roar of snoring fills the room, vibrating not only your eardrums but you're sure the walls too.

You lift his legs and lay them flush with his body, his limbs are so long they hang off over the armrest.

Taking one last look at him and wondering exactly what he meant by that, before heading upstairs to bed.

Why would anyone want to be like you?

The day after you let Namjoon sleep on your couch.

You had taken longer than necessary in the shower this morning, pottered around upstairs, procrastinating, which is something you rarely do and all to avoid the man you'd left slumped unconscious on your couch.

You listen for any signs of movement down stairs and when you hear none, part of you hopes he's gone. That he woke up early and drove home, no awkward encounter, no questions, just peace.

You should be so lucky.

As you descend your wooden stairs, you hear the rattle of snoring and roll your eyes.

He lay on his stomach, face squashed on its side with limbs splayed out and hands sagged against your rug.

How were you going to get rid of him?

You prepare a few things in the kitchen before taking some pain killers and a glass of water over. 

You nudge him tentatively with your foot. Nothing. Nudging him again, harder this time, but still nothing.

"Hey." You call harshly into the heavy silence. Nothing.

Inspiration strikes, as your hand lashes out, flicking the glass forward and sending water cascading over him.

He jumps up with a gasp, bolt upright, shock contorting his face.

You bite back a laugh at the sight of his drenched form.

His eyes widen when he focuses on you and then dart around wildly searching for answers.

"I drove you home last night as you could hardly stand but you passed out so I brought you here." You explain in a blasé manner. 

Holding out the pills, he takes them mechanically. 

"I'll just refill your water for you." You skip off with a smirk. His wet hair clinging to his forehead, little water droplets dripping off the end of his nose. The sight deeply satisfying, in more ways than one. As much as you would never admit it, he looked good wet.

He swallows the pills and greedily downs the water you return with. Gasping for air, he finally meets your gaze. "We didn't…" he stumbles on his words and you laugh loudly.

"Trust me, you were in no condition for anything physical last night."

A hint of a smile plays around his mouth but he tries to fight it. "That doesn't sound like you're completely repulsed by the idea?" One of his eyebrows pulls up into a challenging arch.

"Ha! If you were the last man on earth and the human race was left depending on us to continue, only then would I possibly consider it."

A shy smile and a dimple creating an endearing crevice in his cheek. "Well that's not a complete no, so I'll take that."

You shake your head, amused, if not a little perplexed by him.

He sighs, wiping down his damp jeans. "Well, I suppose I better get out of your hair." He stands, seeming slightly unsteady and visibly in pain as he clutches his head. 

"Why don't you stay for breakfast, have some coffee then I'll drive you back to your place in the truck?"

He stares at you with his mouth popped open in a little 'o', the same expression you imagine looking at yourself with. Where in the fuck did that come from? Have you forgotten who he is? 

"If that's ok with you, that would be great...unless you're planning to poison me?" There's humour in his remark but a sincere worry too.

You chuckle as you head over to the stove, switching it on and cracking some eggs into the heated frying pan, the sizzle filling the silence. "I can assure you, I'm more of a 'violence is the answer' type person, in case that wasn't obvious already."

You smile to yourself at the memory of the very first day you met. 

He'd backed his truck into yours, denting the hood and completely knocking off the bumper before driving home. You had greeted him in his living room, not bothering to knock, just letting yourself in, backing him into a corner and threatening him with a wrench. The image of his wide eyed, frozen form brought you a fresh wave of satisfaction as he handed you a wad of cash and uttered frantic apologies. 

"Hmm, so I recall." He replies, brows furrow in thought as he takes a seat at your table, clearly his mind travelling to the same place yours is. You'd gotten off entirely on the wrong foot, and if you were honest, still continued to.

"How do you like your eggs?" 

He smirks. "I'm assuming, 'with a kiss' is pushing it."

You shoot him a glare, even though you feel amusement tug at your lips.

He holds his hands up. "Fair enough, as they come will be fine."

Once breakfast is done, you drive him home, smiling and laughing more than you thought possible with him, you realise he's actually quite humorous when he's not torturing you by his existence. 

You stand awkwardly by his truck waiting for him to say words that are clearly trying to escape from his mouth but he seems to be having trouble forming.

"Thank you...for last night...and this morning. You've been surprisingly kind, even if I really don't deserve it." He looks at his feet while clutching his hat tightly, looking utterly innocent and fragile, suddenly seeming like a much younger man standing in front of you. 

"Don't mention it. It won't happen again, don't worry." You smile playfully as you knock on his truck and leave, feeling his eyes watching you as you saunter off down the dirt road to work.

"I'm sorry, did I just hear that right?" Seokjin asks, his voice shrill, shock making his eyes bulge comically at you. "'He's not that bad' since when, please tell me!? A few days ago you thought he was the devil in disguise." 

You laugh at his reaction and poke him playfully on the chest. "Hey, listen, all I'm saying is we only show people what we want others to see, doesn't mean it's always real."

He thinks for a moment, eyes sparkling with amusement. "So what you're saying is, he acts like Mr big shot money bags but he isn't?" He gives you a quizzical look and checks your temperature with the back of his hand.

You laugh again and shove his hand away. "Yes, I am fine and yes in a way. Sure, he has money and he shows off but maybe he acts like that to hide something else. Maybe he thinks that's what people expect of him, maybe he's scared of something."

Seokjin's windshield wiper laugh shrieks in your ears. "Ok, now I've heard it all. Firstly, there’s nothing deep about this man, other than his cash flow and secondly, you think he's scared? The man is an arrogant moron, end of." 

"Everyone's scared of something, it's not that far fetched."

He leans in to you slightly. "That is a lie. You, my friend, are scared of nothing." He gets up from his bar stool, placing his hat on his head and downing the last of his drink. "The day I see you scared is the day the world ends. There's not a problem you can't get out of with your fists or your smart mouth." He laughs as he leaves the bar.

The irony is, there is one problem that would get infinitely worse with your fists and your smart mouth. Something that would have you terrified beyond imagination. Something you plan to hide from for the rest of your existence.

Five months since Namjoon moved to town.

You are back at his door, although this time you stand on the doorstep and pound angrily to be let in.

When he opens it, he looks hesitant. "You don't usually knock, just barging in is more you style rig-?"

"Why was there a man taking photos of me today?" The words leave your mouth in a furious rush, the need to be out and to hear another dreaded deal he's made. To prove yourself right about the type of man he is.

"What? You mean the photographer?"

You take a shaky breath to calm yourself. "That's usually what they do isn't it? Take photos?" You say between gritted teeth.

He frowns. "Well, yes, I don't understand why you're upset? I listened to you and told you I'm not building the mall, I've hired someone to take pictures of the town as it is, just to get business for my Hotel, and you're still upset with me!? Jesus, I can't win." He runs a frustrated hand through his swept back hair, forehead exposed - it suits him best that way. 

You melt slightly under his accusing stare and suddenly you feel embarrassed by your reaction, it's not all anger, it's fear clenching your heart in its iron grasp. You want to scream, to run from it but you can't, it follows you. It followed you here and to the town you were in before. It will follow you wherever you are. You know this, you've accepted it and this is why you can't afford to get attached to someone, not romantically. It would cause too much heartache on both sides, when you'd eventually have to leave again.

"No, I'm not upset about that." You sigh and rub a hand across your eyes, exhaustion and exasperation weighing you down like a ton of bricks. "I just….I can't have my picture taken. Do what you want, but please, I'm begging you, do not put me in them." You stare at him with desperation, flitting from one eye to the other. 

"Ok, ok." He says quickly, putting an arm on yours to reassure you. The touch soothes you for a moment and takes you by surprise. 

"I'll make sure they delete the ones of you, ok? You have my word."

You see the honesty radiate from him and you relax. You're on the verge of tears with relief and happiness, the fear deflating as you stand here.

"Thank you!" You plead.

There's a moment of silence between you and you're not quite sure why you're still standing here.

"You know, if there's anything you ever want to tell me or talk about, you can trust me. I know I've not been great but I'll always be here if you need someone to lean on." 

An odd warmth spreads through your chest, until you feel it's ready to burst. You can't help the smile that stretches across your lips.

"I know you can bear the brunt but sometimes it's nice to not have to." He adds, eyes wide and welcoming, enticing you with his earnest expression and the dimple that appears from his sideways smile.

You grab him by the collar and pull him to you, lips crashing against his with ferocious hunger. You feel him freeze against you before he returns it with feverish hands running down your back and cupping you under the buttocks, lifting your legs beneath you.

You wrap them tightly around his waist as he leads you quickly inside, kicking the door shut behind him.

He doesn't make it up the stairs, the plush living room rug against your back a suitable substitute for his bedroom. 

Your mouths dance, tongues interlacing all the while his hands are everywhere all at once, the heat from them setting your veins alight with fiery lust.

Your hands find his hair and your fingers run through his silky locks, using them to pull him even closer to you.

He moans into your mouth, the sound enticing you further.

"I want you so bad." he says in a breathless whisper.

You hook your leg over his and push him, flipping him on his back, straddling him.

You pull your button up off over your head and he groans when he discovers you aren't wearing a bra. His hands slide quickly up your waist to fondle your breasts, plunging his teeth into his generous bottom lip before he sits up and sucks a nipple into his mouth. A hiss escapes you as pleasure shoots straight to your core and has you grinding against his denim clad erection. 

He cups the side of your face and brings you back down to his mouth, your lips meeting once again in a hot, fervent kiss.

His lips find their way to your ear. "Stand up." 

There was no authority in his voice, just a soft pleading, one you could not resist. As you rise, his fingers were already undoing your jean buttons then pulling them down around your ankles and helping you step out of them. 

On his knees looking up at you with heavy lids, as he places a faint kiss against your clothed sex. The sight of it heavenly, you couldn't help but admire his beauty, the sheer amount of it having escaped your notice before.

He slips a finger under your panties and pulls them aside, lips instantly on you, hot and wet, causing your head to snap back with explicit language echoing past your lips.  

He chuckles against you, the vibration making you gasp as his tongue delves to your most sensitive parts, a venture no previous man has been. The sensation; mind blowing and you find yourself grinding against him. The relentless pace of his tongue against your swollen bud has you crying out, hands gripped into his hair as you come undone against his mouth. His arm snakes around your waist, supporting your trembling frame as your moans of ecstasy repeatedly fill the silence of the room.

As the spasms of pleasure subside, you're vaguely aware of Namjoon removing his trousers, his hand still in contact with your skin, as you drift back down from your euphoric cloud. 

You mount him before he's finished pulling his pants from his ankles, his hands find your buttocks and guide you onto him. You lower yourself, sliding him into you.

He lays back, a look of pure adoration as he watches you wind your hips round, back and forth and up and down, until he's a writhing, moaning mess underneath you. His lips constantly find your skin, leaving moist trails, cold from the air, all over you.

Your bodies crashing against each other as you eagerly chase your end. 

Feeling yourself tightening around him, coiled like a spring ready to bound into a new realm of elation.

"That's it baby, let go." He says softly, clinging onto your hips to keep you moving.

Your orgasm explodes, more intense than before, completely taking over you as you contract around him. He joins you, filling you with his warm seed, cradling you in his arms as you both ride out your spasms of bliss. 

When your mind has returned to your body, you slump onto the rug, your bare bodies beside each other, as he turns towards your back his fingers skate over the large scar on your back. You go rigid for a moment, preparing yourself for his questions, attempting to scramble up a lie in your mind. His lips find the puckered pink skin and place a chaste kiss on it. His questions don't come, instead he wraps you in his arms and holds you close enough you can feel his pounding heart against you.

No words are exchanged. There isn't anything to be said but you feel everything and more in that moment.

Two weeks since you had sex with Namjoon.

"Very nice. You've really captured the beauty of the town in these." you smile at him and lay a gentle hand on his knee. Something he chooses not to ignore, placing his hand over yours while he continues clicking through the various pictures on his hotel website.

"Yea, the photographer did a really good job." he looks over to you, with a raised eyebrow. "So you approve of these?" 

"Of course." you say, standing and grabbing your jacket draped across the stairway banister. 

"That's a first." he teases, a smirk playing across his full lips, calling out to you as usual.

You drape your arms around his shoulders and place a slow kiss on his neck, the moan you entice from him has your lips smiling against his skin.

"Stay." he says quietly.

"I can't, I have to work." It's regretful but true. "Besides, I've been holed up in here for nearly two weeks. Time for a change of scenery."

He pouts as he takes your hand, pulling it towards his chest. "There's nothing wrong with the scenery here...especially when you're upstairs...in my bed...naked."

His eyes hold burning heat, pupils blown with longing and it sends throbbing lust right between your legs.

"How about, you think about me naked and in your bed...until I finish work, then I'll make up for all that torture." you reply, winking at him before your lips meet in a passionate, fiery kiss. 

No one has ever kissed you like Namjoon. No one has given you this feeling...one you can't quite describe. For the first time in years, you feel completely yourself and...happy. Your chest swells when you look at him and you find it odd how someone you could hardly stand, now has such an effect on you.

"This evening is going to drag." he rolls his eyes. "I'll pick you up after work."

Your insides grin. Part of you wanted to keep him your dirty little secret and the other part wanted everyone to see you together.

You nod and plant one more kiss against his mouth, as you tear your body and your eyes away from him. 

That’s when you see it.

Your face. On his screen. Bold as a summer's day.

Your stomach drops, turning into a lump of concrete inside you, weighing you down. Rage alights in you but betrayal counters it, racing through your veins in your shaking limbs and spilling out of your eyes in hot tears.

Namjoon follows your eye line and freezes. Neither of you move. 

All you can do is stare at the smiling, care free photo of you, behind the bar. And all you can think of is, how many people have possibly seen this? Who has and what now? 

He turns back to you, eyes wide and encased with a frown, a pleading hand outstretched towards you, as you realise you're backing up and heading to his front door.

"I didn't know." he says quietly.

 "You promised me that I wouldn't be in any of them!" you yell, skin hot and your stomach churning. "I can't believe I let you fool me. I genuinely thought you were telling me the truth. How could you do this to me?" 

Something flickers across his face but it's gone before you realise what it is, as he takes another step towards you. "I didn't do this!"

Your heart pounds in your ears, every part of you throbbing with treachery. 

He drops his hand, sensing it's useless. 

"Clearly your word means as little as I do to you." you close the distance between you, a finger pointing in his face. "If I ever see you in my bar, so help me, I'll make you unable to ride your horse for a very long time."

He opens his mouth to speak. 

"I beg you, give me one reason." you spit, venom encasing every word. You storm out, feeling sick to your stomach. This is the man that you've been having the most amazing, passionate sex with for the last two weeks. You've been inseparable, opened yourself up to him in every way. Laid yourself bare and vulnerable for him.

You wanted to scrub yourself down, feeling like you've gone past enemy lines and turned against your own. He was a risk, you'd known that but had still let yourself get caught up in him. Believed in his lies. In him. You left him in the middle of the room, staring after you, getting in your truck and driving. After calling Jimin to cover you, you head to the next town, where you can be alone and drink until you forget.

Three months since Namjoon betrayed you. 

You've been a wreck. For three months you've been constantly looking over your shoulder, sick to your stomach. Your emergency bag packed and hidden in your truck, should you need to flee. Your life shoved in that small leather bag. You didn't have much, that was clear to you but it seemed sadder than ever to have your most important things in one tiny holder. No one that would care when you were gone. Maybe Seokjin, but he'd forget about you eventually, any friends you make always do.

Namjoon had not been back into the bar, not while you were working anyway, you're not sure he'd have the guts. You had seen him fleetingly on a few occasions, his hopeful glances towards you rebuked by your impassive, stony face. 

At some point Seokjin informed you, your photo had been removed from the website, Namjoon clearly trying to make amends for his deception - unsuccessful and useless attempts. You do not bend or yield to someone who has stabbed you in the back, you learnt that the hard way a long time ago...quite literally too.

You shrug into your jacket, noticing how much roomier it had become recently. Eating has not been high on the priority list when your stomach churns with anxiety and trepidation. You turn off the lights and head to the door of the bar, keys in hand.

A squeak from the hinges sounds into the silence, you look to see the doors wobbling slightly, the breeze catching it. 

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of your neck are on end, goose bumps leave a bumpy trail across your skin. You're just being paranoid. No one's here. It’s just the wind. 

Your feet move quickly to the doors, imagining you can hear following footsteps. Just as you reach your exit, a swift, sharp pull on your hair sends you slamming into the wooden boards.

A weight on top of you, pinning you down and unable to fight. A hand across your mouth to stop you from screaming and making it difficult to breathe.

His scent. It encases you, trapping you in another time and freezing you in those moments, those memories. The abusive days, the violent temper, the possessiveness, the cuts and bruises, the stabbing. Staring death in the face had been the final moment to give you the confidence to run, to escape but forever looking over your shoulder, forever living in fear.

Terror has taken over your body, not even trying to fight at this point.

"Did you miss me?" his sickly voice whispers in your ear.

Inside you're screaming, begging and pleading but nothing comes out into the silence, just the sound of his harsh, excited breathing.

"I knew I'd find you, knew it wouldn't be long until someone led me to you." 

You could feel your limbs shaking wildly underneath him.

"You knew I'd find you didn't you? You led me here with that photo, I knew you missed me, baby." he kisses your forehead, your skin crawling beneath his lips. 

"I'm going to take my hand away now, you're not going to scream, are you? You're going to be a good girl, aren't you?"

His words twist your insides in the most repulsive way as you nod your head.

His hand comes away, freeing your face and you gasp, desperately filling your lungs with air. 

"It's so good to see your face, baby." 

Your eyes, now adjusted to the dark, could make out his teeth, his lips pulled into a sinister smile.

"Will you at least let me sit up, Yoongi?" you ask, sounding much braver than you feel.

"You're not going to do anything stupid." he orders.

"No." your face is deadpan because it has to be, a slither of anything he deems untoward would make matters much worse for you.

Even as your brain frantically tries to find you a way out, any idea hitting an immediate dead-end, your face remains impassive.

He releases your wrists above your head and slowly climbs off of you, still crouched and ready to pounce should you run. 

You had to be smart about this if you were going to get away, you had to think. THINK! 

"You've been very bad, haven't you? Running from me like that. And I know you like playing games but I've not appreciated this hide and seek exchange between us. Four years I've been searching. That's a long time, baby." his menacing tone has you on edge, wondering just what he is going to do.

"You left me to die." you reply, recalling that night with a chill creeping up your spine. A knife in the back and for what, having said a few too many words to the corner shop owner, like 'how are you?'

You wonder what type of weapon he has on him tonight and you push the thought away.

He stares at you shocked, as if attempted murder is so far fetched from what he's capable of. 

"Who do you think called the ambulance? I would never let you die, I would never let you leave me."

Lies. You knew a passer-by had rung the ambulance, had stayed with you until they came and had waited to hear your prognosis at the hospital. You even met them a few weeks later, when they brought you flowers. But for now he had to think you believed him.

"Is that what they told you?" he leaned in stroking your face and you had to swallow the recoil that your body reacted with.

"Is that why you've been running from me? Oh baby, you should have said and we could have had this all straightened out, wouldn't we, hm?" 

He grips your chin, keeping it aimed directly at him, his fingers just forceful enough to leave bruises.

He watches your mouth, licking his lips. He wants to kiss you and you're preparing yourself for it.

"How many other men have been on these lips? How many have been inside them?" he sneers pushing his thumb, harshly inside your mouth, the taste bitter on your tongue. The Yoongi you know, well and truly here.

"No one."

"Don't lie to me." he squeezes your jaw, pain blazing underneath his fingertips  causing a whimper to escape your lips.

The satisfied look in his eyes has bile rising in your throat.

"I'm not lying. You think I'd want another man anywhere near me." 

He smiles, clearly not catching the bite in your words.

"If I find out different, there's going to be problems." he sing songs. "You understand?"

You nod and he releases your chin, harshly discarding you like a useless piece of meat.

He stands and offers a hand out to help you up. You want to spit at it and slap it out of your face but you shiver at the reaction that would bring.

You take it and he pulls you up, harsher than was necessary but you ignore it. He's on you, stalking towards you, backing you against the hard, wooden panels of the wall behind.

Your heart pounds violently, the sound all you can hear, you can hear your breathing spike as does his. He's excited, but you're trying to survive. 

He closes the small amount of distance between you, his body pressed firmly against yours. One hand grabs your waist, pinning you harshly in place, the other travels to your throat. He keeps it there pressed lightly against your windpipe, not doing any damage but enough to show you the threat that's there. You swallow involuntarily. 

The wind picks up outside and you hear the door wobbling, your attention back on it. How can you get to it? 

You can hit him with something, but it would have to be hard enough to take him down and give you enough of a chance to run. Every thought seemed risky.

"Are you going to be a good girl and come with me willingly?" he raises an eyebrow at you.

"Yoongi, I can't just pick up and leave."

He adds a pressure to throat, fear rising up in you hot and fast.

You put your palms up. "I'm not saying no. I'm saying, I have a job here, people know me. If I get up and leave without a word, they'll think something awful's happened and that'll create problems for us."

He watches you for a moment, eyes thin and suspicious, you can practically see the cogs turning in his mind. "What do you suggest then?" Before you can even open your mouth, he adds. "I'm not leaving you." 

"Why don't you stay here with me for a little while?" you can feel the sweat on the back of your neck, the idea of him being with you any longer than he has been already filling you with absolute horror.

"Then we can announce that I'm moving back with you."

"How can I trust you, after the way you've behaved?" his face is millimetres from yours suddenly, the tips of his noses touching. 

"W-what do you want me to do to prove it to you?" you stammer, losing your composure momentarily.

"Kiss me. Like you used to." he smirks, knowing that towards the end of your relationship, touching him in any way had repulsed you, you hadn't kept that a secret.

You take a breath to steel yourself, if this is what you had to do…

Namjoon's shadowed face captures your attention as it appears just behind Yoongi's head and directly in your line of sight, holding - what looks like - a metal crowbar in the air. He nods to you.

The relief you feel cascades around your body, washing waves of solace through you, your skin tingling as your adrenaline spikes even higher. Everything seems much more hopeful in this moment and you've never been so happy to see Kim Namjoon. 

Your eyes flash back to Yoongi, you could not lose it now, otherwise it's another person to be endangered by him.

You grab either side of his face, tilting your head, he closes his eyes as he prepares for your lips to touch his. He moans from anticipation, the sound bringing a fresh wave of nausea over you.

You meet Namjoon's eyes once more, watch him raise the crow bar higher, preparing to swing…

You push Yoongi's face as hard away from you as fast as you can muster and duck. Your eyes squeeze shut as you hear his gasp and then the noise of the metal connecting with his skull. 

"Run! Go now!" 

You do. Your legs charging forward before you even have a chance to process Namjoon's words to you. You push through the double doors, the cool night air hitting your skin and giving you added power to your legs. You race along the dirt path, hearing the ruckus ensue in the bar. You stop. Namjoon's face bloodied and bruised flashes in front of your eyes. An image you can't escape.

You couldn't leave him to deal with this man alone. You had to face your past. Face him, like you would face anyone else threating your life, or your town, or your friends. You yank out your phone and dial Seokjin's number.

"Do you know what time it is?" his voice thick with sleep sounds on the line.

'Jin, I need you to call the sheriff and come down to the bar! I'm in trouble. Bring your gun!" you hang up not giving him a chance to respond as you race back to Namjoon. 

You throw open the doors and see the two men throwing punches in and out of tight holds as they roll around on the floor. 

How could you get to Yoongi without hurting Namjoon?

You stand hesitating in the doorway.

But watching Yoongi take control and pin him down before connecting punch after punch, the sickening sound of flesh hitting flesh, something inside you snaps. 

You charge at him, bringing your foot up to connect with his face, the impact sending him flying backwards. By the sound, you're pretty sure you've broken his nose.

You crouch down to Namjoon as he sits up, wiping his bloody mouth on the sleeve of his plaid shirt.

"You ok?" you ask, eyes wide as they skim over his face, assessing him.

"What are you doing here!?" he exclaims, desperate eyes pleading with you to leave. "I told you to get out of here!"

You want to say so many things in that moment, looking at him and realising; he's got a good heart, even if it is a little misguided at times. Looking at him and realising all the unspoken feelings between you. From the moment you met him, he's been a disaster and every time he tried to be nice and make an effort you violently pushed him away to protect yourself. But you couldn't do it anymore. You cupped his purple marked face in your hand,  wishing you could erase these marks, left because of you.

He leans into your hand, just for a moment before his attention is behind you. Grabbing your waist and pinning you to the floor before spinning on top of you, shielding you from the skull cracking snap of the gunshot. The deafening sound echoing in your ears, as pain sneaks through the hole in your left arm, the one underneath Namjoon's weighted, limp body.

Six months since the shooting, Christmas day.

Your first Christmas without the thought of Yoongi hanging over your head like a dark cloud, the kind that gives you headaches and makes your mind feel heavy and slow.

Seokjin had gotten there with Sheriff Jungkook just after the first shot rang out. 

You don't remember everything but you do remember hearing the second shot clap like thunder around you, a split second of light illuminating the thick darkness, followed by the sound of a body hitting the ground. 

That was it, he was gone, no more looking over your shoulder, no more running and no more fear following you with every decision. The demise of Yoongi. You are free.

You feel lighter as you open the oven and baste the turkey once again.

"When is dinner going to be ready?" Seokjin whines from the sofa.

"Oh, have a little patience." you scold him.

You are more than grateful to have him with you at this time of year, seeing as neither of you have any family here, it's worked out nicely. 

"I see Jimin is doing well after taking over Namjoon's Hotel." he remarks.

You nod. "Yep, business is going well for him. I'm glad. I will miss him at the pub though." 

"What about Namjoon's house?"

Your hand stills, stopping stirring the vegetables bubbling away in the pan and a hard swallow slides down your throat. "What about it?"

"Is it going on the market?"

You glance over and notice him watching you from the corner of his eye.

"I'm not sure, it's not been discussed." 

He nods carefully.

Footsteps down your stairs have your head turning towards them. The sight of him, bare chested, hair swept back effortlessly almost takes your breath away.

"We can discuss it now, if you like?" Namjoon teases you and places a kiss on the side of your head. "Seeing as you keep ignoring my question."

Seokjin sits bolt upright. "What's this? What question?"

You laugh. "Not that question!"

The disappointment across Jin's face is obvious.

"I keep asking her to sell this place and move in with me but I haven't had an answer yet." Namjoon watches you, an arrogant look on his face as he turns towards your guest.

The wrinkled, pink scar on his back greets your view, a perfect circle from where the bullet entered. He was lucky. You'd almost lost him before you even had him, before you realised how much you wanted, needed him. 

You go toward him, wrapping your arms around his stomach. You go on tip-toes to kiss his scar. You match. Two scars in exactly the same place caused by the same person. In a sick way that connected you forever and the thought brought you comfort somehow. 

Namjoon had saved your life, endangering his in the process. Now it's you who would protect him from anything. 

"Yes." you say quietly against his back.

He turns, wrapping you in his arms.

"What?"

You look up at his bewildered face. "Yes, I'll move in with you."

His face blooms into the most beautiful smile, making your insides flutter. He brings his lips crashing down against yours, a kiss that takes your breath away and makes you giddy.

This is the true start to your life, after existing for many years you're now truly living, with the sound of Seokjin's cheers and hollas in the background.

[northcarolinanative]

𝐉𝐮𝐥𝐲

A/N: I tried something a little different with this one, let me know what you think.  Also a big thank you to @peachy-jj​ for her help with me figuring out how I wanted to write this. She’s amazing <3. TW: Abuse, Violence, depictions of Injuries. This one is a little bit heavy. 

Request by @peachy-jj​: “I've been dying for someone to write something based on the song July by Noah Cyrus, Idk if that helps you at all lol”

Description: Y/N gets a phone call in the middle of the night for John B. He’s worried about JJ and how he’s reacting to a run-in with his father. Y/N arrives but isn’t prepared for what she sees. Based on the song July by Noah Cyrus. 

The incessant buzz of my phone underneath my pillow woke me from my sleep. I looked at the clock sitting on the table beside my bed. The red-lined letters bright enough to make me squint. 1:15. Only an hour since I went to sleep. I looked at my phone, squinting again at just how bright the screen was. The caller ID read “John B.” I quickly sat up sliding the bar to answer the call. 

“Hello,” I said. My voice coming out strained from just waking up. I sat resting my arm on my knees, running a hand through my knotted hair. 

“Oh my god. Y/N, thank god you answered.” He was breathing heavily and I heard crashing in the background, loud rock music playing. “JJ just got back from his house.’ 

“Oh” was all I said getting out of bed, wedging the phone between my shoulder and my ear as I began to get on my pants and a pair of shoes while John B continued to talk. 

“He’s not good. He won’t let me help him out, it looks like he’s in pain, but he’s smoking, and he keeps punching things. He’s playing this music at an ungodly volume. I don’t know how to help. I know you can calm him down. I don’t know, I just thought it might help if you were here.” 

“I’ll be there as soon as I can JB. I just finished getting dressed.” 

“Okay. Thank you Y/N” He said, I could hear a breath of relief leave his mouth before the phone line went dead. 

The walk to the chateau was me half running and half speed walking, trying to get there as soon as I could. One of the downsides of being a pogue, having to walk everywhere. It was not ideal in a situation like this, especially this early in the morning. The breeze helped to calm down my heated skin. I was trying to keep my cool. I hated the way that JJ’s dad treated him. JJ tried his hardest to please him, but Luke would never be pleased with his son. That what ate at me the most, because we all could see it, no matter how hard JJ tried, it wasn’t what his dad wanted. I tried to brace myself for what I would see when I enter the Chateau. I normally saw him the day after, he would stay at the chateau that night, and we would all find out in the morning. On the rare occasion that he knew my parents were gone he would come over and let me clean him up. I knew what the music meant though. JJ was trying to drown out the thoughts that he was having, the thoughts that his dad put into his head, he was trying to drown them in substance and noise. He was trying to distract himself. That was what worried me the most. 

I knocked on the door, just as a courtesy, I knew they couldn’t hear me. I heard rock music playing from the street. I saw John B in the hallway head against the wall in the hallway. I tapped him on the shoulder, startling him. He wrapped his arms around me. “I am so glad that your here. I don’t know how to calm him down this time.” He nodded behind him. “He’s in the living room. I’ll be out on the porch if you need me.” 

I nodded and moved past him. Once JJ entered my line of the vision my stomach dropped. I felt sick instantly. He sat against the wall, nodding his head to the beat, his legs up so he could rest his arms on his knees. His pen in one hand the other making its way through his hair. His left eye was swollen, I saw the deep red starting to turn purple and the cut above his eyebrow smeared with blood and still bright red. Then his jaw, also a deepening shade of red, going all the way to his ear. Then his lips, I couldn’t see if it was split, but the blood from his nose dried on them. It didn’t matter how many times I saw JJ with cuts or bruises on his body, every time it was like the first time.  It made me sick with anger that someone could hurt him. It hurt me that someone could hurt the boy that I love so much. I felt the tears in my eyes but tried my best to blink them back before walking towards him. 

I kneeled down in front of him, taking his free hand in mine. His eyes snapped up to me and he broke. He moved forward knocking me back as he clung onto me. The unbearable music drowned out as I rubbed up and down the sweaty fabric on JJ’s back. I felt each and every sob that racked through his body as if it were my own, somewhere along the way they become mine too. I felt the tears finally fall as I continued to hold him. He gripped the large sleeping t-shirt I wore into his fists. He finally stopped sobbing and seemed to calm down, but his breathing was still uneven. I took his hand, that still gripped the t-shirt, and carefully flattened it out. I took notice of the red stains on each of his knuckles. I placed it on my chest and tried breathing in and out heavily so that he could feel it. 

“Hey? You feel that?” I bent my head so that I could finally catch his eyes. “My breathing? Can you breathe with me, baby? Don’t hold back your breath baby. Count to ten with me and breathe alright? ” I still caught his eyes with mine. Their normal bright blue was being overshadowed by the swelling and how bloodshot they were from crying. He laid his head in my chest. I rested my hand on his back, feeling his breaths start to even out. Only then did I realize the loud music still playing, drowning out everything around us. 

I lifted JJ’s chin to look at him again. The blood still covered his face. “Can I clean you up? Please?” 

JJ nodded and stood up. I stood up after him, but turned to the stereo and pausing the music before it gave either of us a headache. I didn’t want JJ to hurt anymore than he already was. I slid my hand, pulling him behind me, guiding him to the bathroom. JJ knew to sit on the counter as I reached behind the toilet and on the top shelf of the medicine cabinet for supplies. JJ sat with his head hanging low, not speaking still. I wet the cloth and laid it down beside him on the counter and moved to stand between his legs. I grabbed the hem on his shirt. Another one of JJ’s t-shirts ripped and stained with blood. It shouldn’t have to be like this. He raised his hands over his head as I removed it. I threw it on the pile he and John B had in the corner of the room. I saw a few bruises scattered across his torso. I ran my fingers across them, wishing I could soak up all of JJ’s pain. 

“I tried to do what he wanted” JJ broke the silence, almost starting. “I tried Y/N. I tried to listen. Then he started to say something, he started to talk about mom again. He was throwing back beer after beer.”

 I just nodded my head, letting him talk. I knew that I did not have the right words to tell him what to think. He had to process what happened on his own, but I would always be there to listen. JJ knew that. I started with the wet cloth, cleaning up the blood that had dripped down to his neck. He flinched at the cold cloth before continuing. 

“Every day he tells me I am not the son he wants. He tells me I am not enough. I always go back though. I am so scared of change Y/N. I lost my mom and like he’s my dad. I know he’s terrible, but I guess I am afraid of change.” I felt one of his tears land on my arm. I looked up at him to see more following. I put my hand on his cheek using my thumb to wipe away his tears. “He reminds me every day that I’m not good enough, but I still stay.” 

Silence falls over us once more. I wanted to say something, but I knew JJ. He was too in his head right now to listen to me. He was talking to me, but it wasn’t for me, it was for him. I started to work on the blood that was on his face. His tears left streaks in the dry blood, making my heart shatter all over again. I feel my eyes start to fill with tears once more and try to keep my breathing steady for JJ. I knew that he would notice if I was getting upset again. I moved to grab the other cloth and some disinfectants. “J, this might sting a little,” I warned him as I poured the liquid over the cloth. He already knew it would sting like I kept thinking, he’s been here before, and as much as I hated to think it, we would probably be here again. 

JJ nodded. He winced when I wiped the cloth across the split above his eyebrow. “I’m just so sick of feeling stuck in this cycle.” He said as if he was reading my mind. “Feels like a lifetime, just tryna get by, while I’m dying inside, I've done a lot of things wrong, letting him back in, time after time being one.”  He let out a shaky breath as I finished wiping up the cut just above his lip. 

I threw the clothes in the pile with JJ’s shirt. I rested my hands on either of JJ’s thighs. I rubbed slightly over the rough fabric of his cargo shorts before looking up at me. I felt his hands push them off. “Y/N, you deserve someone who shows you love, who knows what love is to give you. You deserve someone who loves you, better than I do, darling” My head snapped up and I cupped his face, but he turned to the side, staring down at the floor. “Tell me to leave and I’ll pack my bags Y/N. I’ll let you flourish because I feel like I am holding you back” 

I turn his head back to face me and I see the tears in his eyes. I can feel the way my eyebrows are scrunched together in a frown. I know that the intense fight with his father was not completely physical. His dad diminished everything about JJ when they fought. 

“JJ believe me when I tell you that you are the best thing that has happened in my life. You are my rock. I know that I can go to you with anything and you will help.” I felt the warm tears start to roll down my face. “You balance me out in all the best ways. You help me to stop overthinking and take stuff lightly, you help to keep me grounded, and not so crazy. We’re both crazy, but we work, and I would not trade that for the world.” I wiped off the newly formed tears as they fell down his cheeks. “You are the love that I deserve plus so much more.” 

My breath was shaky and JJ pulled me into his chest and we wrapped our arms around each other. To anyone else, it wouldn’t have been romantic or meaningful. A hug in a messy boys bathroom in the middle of the night, but to JJ and I, it was a pivotal moment that we were able to show our love to one another. I pulled back, rubbing my thumb over the cut the was just below his lips. I placed a soft kiss on his eyebrow, then the cut on his chin. I felt him let out a breath as I finally placed a soft and gentle kiss to his lips. 

“JJ I will show you every day that you are enough, I will remind you how you are good enough. I’ll always stay by your side” I whispered, our foreheads leaning against one another. 

“Always” He whispered back.

-- 

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