#this lake is under like ten feet of snow right now

[htr2a]

Thousand Island Lake (9,864’)

Ansel Adams Wilderness just outside Yosemite over Donohue Pass, California

July 1 2022, 4:52 PM

[lubdubology]

When Things Turn Green Again

SYNOPSIS: Hoping to mend the pain of your broken heart and bury the memory of your failed marriage, you turn towards the woods. A cabin was left in your name and it’s the exact distraction you were looking for. What you didn’t anticipate is meeting a quiet, ruggedly handsome man along the way who helps you heal.

PAIRING: Logan x fem!reader

WC: 11k

WARNINGS: smut 18+; mdni; angst; mentions of cheating/divorce; emotional trauma; fluff; sexual innuendos; brief mentions of drinking; dirty talk; slight dom!Logan; oral (f receiving); fingering; doggy style; cock warming; sex with feelings; unprotected p in v

A/N: I pictured either Origins!Logan or Wolverine!Logan, but I think you can envision any Logan you’d prefer. And again thanks to @joelsgoldrush for the support through writing this ❤️ I really do love this piece I wrote and I hope you do too. Feedback is always welcome and appreciated! And thank you to everyone who has read, commented, liked and reblogged both Soft Edges and Til The Sun Turns Black—I never imagined either of those stories reaching over 1k notes.

The gravel crunches under your tires as you roll down the long driveway. Memories bloom deep in your chest as you near the cabin, of times simpler than this, unburdened by trappings of real life. You spent your formative years out here in the woods with your grandfather. Summers spent learning how to fish on the lake; how to recognize the poisonous berries from the nonpoisonous ones; and making fires, roasting marshmallows long after the sun had gone down. 

Your grandfather had helped build this cabin. He’d always preferred the outdoors and solitude from people—with the obvious exception of your grandmother and mother—and he’d often come here to escape. Especially after he lost them both. 

The cabin comes into view through the trees just starting to unfurl their spring foliage. Patches of snow still dot the landscape but the wet brown of winter is losing to spring’s verdant hues. The structure has seen better days, last having been lived in over ten years ago. 

A stab of regret pierces your chest. The cabin was willed to you when your grandfather died, but this was your first trip up here since the funeral. You planned to, of course, but as the old saying goes, life happened. Now, you’re hoping the old place can give you something to sink your energy into besides thinking about your failed marriage. 

You park the truck and step out, surveying the property. The shrubs and flower beds are overgrown and choked with old growth and weeds. Years worth of leaves rest upon the roof and clog the gutters. The front porch has several loose or missing spindles and you’re almost afraid to step up onto the old boards. Proving yourself right, the wood groans and creaks beneath your feet, certain spots threatening to give way.

“That’s going to be a fun project,” you mutter to yourself.

Opening the front door, you’re met with the damp mustiness of a long closed up space. A layer of dust seems to coat nearly every surface and cobwebs linger in the corners. You’re hoping the repairs needed inside the cabin are more cosmetic than costly.

You open up the old blinds, letting the early morning light filter in the room. It’s not a large space, an open kitchen, living room and dinning area with separate bedroom and attached bathroom. A small set of steps leads up to a loft, which also doubles as a sleeping space or bonus area.

You unload your belongings from the truck, tucking them away inside the bedroom, before opening all the windows to let in the fresh air. Thankfully, the glass and protective screens are in relatively good repair—a few need replacing, but an easy enough job. You feel a sense of purpose flourish within you, something you haven’t felt for months and you wonder if this is just the reprieve you need to find yourself again.

+++

You spend the morning taking inventory of the repairs needed around the cabin to make it immediately livable. Jotting down a list of supplies, you hop in your truck and head into town to hit up the hardware store. 

The owner, George, recognizes you from previous trips with your grandfather when you were younger. He greets you warmly and helps you find everything you need. As you’re checking out, he asks, “Run into Logan yet?”

“Logan?”

He nods his head. “Shares a property line with you. Has a cabin of his own just about a quarter mile north of yours. Asked him to keep his eye out on the place.”

“Oh, well, that was nice of him,” you comment, stuffing your receipt in your purse. 

George shrugs. “Figured it would give him something different to do. Doesn’t interact much with people.”

“Guess I’ll just have to introduce myself then,” you say, lifting your bags up off the checkout counter. 

“Good luck with that,” George responds with a huffed laugh. “He’s not one for small talk.” 

You give George a polite smile and leave the store, bags in hand. But the conversation sparks your curiosity and you find yourself thinking of the man who shares the woods with you. You promised yourself once you were settled, you’d make the short hike towards his place and introduce yourself.

Arriving back at the cabin, you park the truck and hop out, stopping short when you spot a lone figure walking around from the back of your property. You can’t stop the prickle of anxiety that zips up your spine as the figure comes closer, but he doesn’t see you yet, his eyes on the ground as he walks.

You shut the truck door with more force than necessary, the sound echoing off the trees. He looks up then and you suck in a short breath as his rugged features come into view—well trimmed but scruffy beard, wild dark hair and a fit muscular frame you can see even under the flannel of his shirt.

Butterflies flutter in your stomach and you can’t remember the last time you’ve felt like this. You can feel a blush creep across your face and you grip the bags in your hands tighter just to feel something other than the hammering of your heart in your chest.

He stops short of where you’re standing and jerks a thumb behind him. “Turned your electrical breaker on,” he says without introduction and you can only stare at him.

“Oh,” you say dumbly. “I, uh—thanks.”

He tilts his head and looks at you and you feel like you’re on fire under his glare. It’s an inquisitive one, like he can’t quite figure out what you’re doing in a place like this and you shift uncomfortably under his gaze. And yet, you don’t want him to stop looking at you. 

“Right,” he says, reaching into the pocket of his jeans for something. He fishes out a key and holds it in your direction. “This is yours.”

You shift the bags, so you’re holding them all in one hand and reach for the key. Your fingertips brush against his just briefly, but it’s enough to set sparks along your skin and you can feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. As he steps back from you, you blurt out your name and then immediately wish for a swift death at your awkwardness. 

God, this was embarrassing. 

It’s like you’ve never interacted with humans before.

He gives the barest hint of a smile. “Logan.”

“Nice to meet you, Logan,” you say, just so you can taste his name in your mouth.

Logan nods and turns to head down the path that leads away from your cabin and deeper into the woods. You watch him go, his figure fading further into the distance and you can’t help but think, I’m in trouble. 

+++

You spend the rest of the day keeping busy around the cabin—wiping down dusty surfaces, sweeping up cobwebs, replacing broken light bulbs—but your mind never strays far from Logan and the inexplicable pull you have towards him. 

You’ve dated. You were married. You weren’t a stranger to the opposite sex and physical attraction, but this felt like more. Like an unavoidable pull between you and him and you’ve just been spun into his orbit. 

And that attraction terrifies you. 

Over the next few days, you try and shove him from your mind. It helps that you haven’t seen him again, but your eyes inevitably dart towards the path leading away from your cabin as if you’re expecting him to come walking through. 

Then, the idea comes to you late one night as you’re sitting in front of the fire, watching the flames lick higher. No matter how hard you had tried, Logan remained firmly planted in your mind, his roots stubborn and unyielding. 

Your grandfather always said your grandmother’s cooking was always something that warmed his heart. 

But as you walk the small path towards Logan’s property you briefly wonder if you’ve lost your mind. You carry the small pie dish in your hands and as his cabin grows closer you’re actually contemplating turning back and forgetting the whole thing.

Who the hell bakes pies for people any more?

His cabin is smaller than yours, a little more rustic and worn, which seems fitting based on the little you know about him. Several piles of firewood line the roofed porch and at the opposite end, a single chair and table sit in front of the window. With one last shaky inhale, you climb the steps and rap your knuckles against the door. From inside you hear heavy footfalls and then the door opens.

Logan looks down at you and then towards the dish in your hands, an odd expression crossing his handsome features.

“I made you a pie,” you blurt unceremoniously and you instantly wish for the ground to open up and swallow you whole.

Logan just continues to stare at you and you think you see the slightest twitch at the corner of his mouth. But maybe not.

“I, uh, my grandfather lived in the cabin next to yours and it’s mine now. I’m fixing it up, because…well, just because and he taught me to pick berries as a kid? So, I did that and I made you this,” you finish in a ramble, flames of embarrassment licking across your skin.

Jesus fucking Christ.

His eyes flick down at the dish in your hands again and you hold it up a bit higher, nudging it closer towards him. As he reaches out to take it, his fingers brush against yours and you again feel electricity tingle down your fingertips. If he notices it too, he says nothing, not that he’s said anything since you showed up on his porch. 

Logan tucks the dish closer to his body and gives you a slight nod. You take that as a good sign and step back to leave. “Okay, cool, cool. Well, um, enjoy. I made sure all he berries were the edible ones so you don’t end up throwing up everywhere.”

At that he actually huffs a chuckle. “Good to know,” he finally says, his voice warm and rich and just a bit gruff.

“Right, well, enjoy!” You turn to leave and can feel his stare against your back and it takes all your remaining functioning brain cells to walk normally.

You spend the next few days trying to forget all about your ill-fated attempt to play neighbor, figuring if he didn’t want to know you before, he definitely didn’t after that. 

You’re coming back from a hike when you spot Logan through the trees walking away from your place, hands tucked deep within his pockets. Your heart quickens in your chest as you walk up to the front door and find the baking dish sitting on the old welcome mat. It’s freshly washed with a folded up piece of paper sitting inside—Thank you.

You’re certain your smile could rival the light from the sun.

+++

It becomes a routine over the next few weeks—you bringing him food and him returning the dish, all without exchanging any words. You’re thankful he’s not much of a talker because you can’t seem to stop making a fool of yourself around him. 

And you don’t know why. 

He’s a handsome man, that anyone can see, but you’ve never been so flustered around a beautiful man before.

There’s something else about Logan you can’t pinpoint that sets your heart fluttering behind your ribs. He seems lonely in the same way you are, and you wonder if he’s out here to lick and heal old wounds just like you. You have an inexplicable want to help him, even if that means sharing your food leftovers with him and trying to chip away at the wall that surrounds him. 

A part of you is hoping he can help break down your walls, too. 

You’re waist deep under the kitchen sink when a knock on the door drags you from fixing the leaking drain. 

“Ah, fuck,” you curse, trying to maneuver out of the space while also not spilling the stagnant water left in the sink trap. As you set the old drain down you call out, “Just a second!”

You wipe your hands against your thighs and swing the door open to find Logan standing there, your glass baking dish from yesterday in his hands. For a second you blink silently at him, unable to think of anything but the fact that you’re wearing grease stained overalls and probably smell like a swamp. 

“Logan, hi,” you finally say, brushing your hair out of your face. 

He gives you a strange look as he hands the dish back to you. You open your mouth to speak when he interrupts you, “Why do you feed me?”

His question hangs in the air and you freeze. Of all the things he could have asked, you weren’t sure why you didn’t expect that one. His voice is a little gruff, but underneath there’s something that makes your heart race. Something vulnerable. 

You swallow and grip the edge of the glass dish. Logan stares at you, his gaze intense, and you feel exposed. Like he’s trying to dissect you with just a look. 

“Oh, well, I don’t know,” you finally admit. “You just…seem like you could use some kindness.”

He raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything else. The silence stretches between you, heavy and charged, and you can feel your pulse quicken. “I can stop if—if you want.”

“No,” he says, his voice rough, but with an undercurrent of tenderness. “No, you don’t have to stop. Just not used to people doin’ things like that for me.”

His admission catches you off guard being the first real piece of personal information he’s shared with you. You’ve gleaned certain things from George—he’s told you about Logan being a mutant and a few pieces of his past—but you know there’s still a world of history hiding behind his loner facade that he keeps hidden. You’re hoping eventually he lets you take a peak inside.

“Everyone deserves kindness, Logan,” you say. 

His gaze flickers, a shadow of something crossing his features that makes your heart ache. He shifts on his feet and stares down at the dish in your hands. “I’m not so sure of that,” he replies. 

“Well, I am.”

Logan’s eyes drag back up to yours and you try to calm the nervous energy that bubbles under your skin as his stare presses into you. He gives you a small nod then before turning to leave. 

He pauses as he hits your driveway and looks back at you, cursing lowly to himself. Scratching at the back of his head, he walks back up the steps and pulls something out of the pocket of his jacket. “I, uh, here,” he says uncertainly as he hands you the small cloth bag. 

You can only stare as you take the bag from him, the gift surprisingly light in your hand, but the gesture heavy with unspoken emotion. Your mind races as you think of what could be inside and your heart hammers loudly in your chest. 

Logan stands there, eyes not quite meeting yours as he waits for you to open it. Your fingers tremble slightly as you undo the drawstrings and peer inside, finding a mixture of different seeds. You can’t help but trail your fingers through them, feeling the faint warmth they hold from where they were nestled against Logan’s body. 

“Oh, Logan,” you murmur, your voice thick with emotion. 

You glance up at him and he’s looking at you, scratching at his beard, the faintest hint of blush staining his cheeks. “They’re wildflowers. Don’t know what kind. But, I dunno. I thought you could use them for your garden.” 

Your chest tightens as you pull the strings close and tuck the bag in your pocket. “I love them, Logan,” you say, offering him a smile. “Thank you.”

For a moment, you see the tension in his shoulders relax just a bit as he exhales. “Just seemed like something you’d appreciate,” he mumbles, more to himself than to you. 

Something has shifted between you and you find yourself itching to touch him, but you don’t. Not yet. The thread holding you two together is there, but thin, and you don’t want it to fray. “I really do appreciate it,” you say softly, stepping just the tiniest bit closer. 

Logan nods and his mouth tugs into something that’s not quite a smile, but close. He looks at you for a long moment, the weight of his gaze pressing into you. “Okay. Good.” Shoving his hands in his pockets, he turns and jogs down the steps. 

“Guess I’ll see you around then,” you call after him, a smile spreading across your face. 

He glances back over his shoulder. “Yeah. I guess you will.”

And maybe, just maybe, the walls around him are beginning to crumble. 

+++

Sweat beads across your brow as you work, but you pay it no heed. Your attention keeps slipping to Logan as you pry another nail loose from the rotted board. You’ve fallen into an odd relationship with the elusive man whose property line you share, yet you still barely know anything about him.

It’s been a week since he stopped by and gave you those wildflower seeds. A warmth still spreads in your chest when you think about it. And true to his promise, you do see him around, albeit not as much as you’d like. He seems wary, as if his gift opened up a part of himself he wasn’t ready for you to see.

But at least he doesn’t drop off your clean dishes and run anymore. 

As you pry the last nail free, the rotten board comes free and you toss it down onto the grass along with the others. Thankfully, the porch isn’t terribly large and you figure another hour or so to remove the remaining boards before you can start laying down fresh lumber. 

The crunch of gravel pulls you from your work and you look up to find Logan walking down the path, a large leather bag in his hand. You look up at him, wiping the sweat off your brow and lean back onto your heels, trying your best not to stare at his forearms.

“Oh, hey, Logan,” you say, wiping your hands against your jeans as you stand. “What brings you to my side of the woods?”

He actually smiles at you and nods towards the porch. “Need help?”

You hate the little flutter you feel pressing against your ribs. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“Well, it’s good thing you’re not asking. I’m offering.”

You blink, caught off guard by his directness. “Oh, well, if you insist,” you say, trying to calm your nerves. “It would be nice to have a second set of hands.”

He sets the leather bag down on the porch with a thud and you catch a glimpse of the tools nestled inside. Logan notices you looking and comments, “I know a few things.” His smirk makes your legs feel like jello. 

“Oh, I bet you know a lot of things,” you blurt, and your eyes widen at the double entendre of your words, heat flushing across your face. 

Logan laughs, a real laugh, his eyes crinkling. “Well, it’s always good to be well educated,” he says with a wink.

Fuck, you feel like you’re going to spontaneously combust. 

Shoving down your raging embarrassment, you lay out your plan to fix the porch and Logan gives a small nod. He starts at the opposite end, prying loose the first board with ease. You try not to stare at the way his muscles move and how his skin begins to slick with the first beads of sweat. You work in silence for a while, the only sounds those of the forest around you. 

“So, what actually brought you out here?” Logan finally asks. 

You glance over at him and watch as he tosses another board onto the grass. He looks at you expectantly and you sigh. “I got divorced,” you answer honestly. “And I needed something pour my energy into other than wondering where the fuck I went wrong.”

You can’t bring yourself to look at him, your openness leaving you feeling raw, and instead focus on the board in front of you. Anger begins to simmer in your veins at the thought of the last couple of years and you grab the next plank with just enough force to wedge a splinter deep into your palm. A loud curse falls from your lips as you drop the board. 

You feel Logan next to you and you suck in a deep breath as he reaches for your hand, his fingers curling around yours. “Lemme see,” he says, pulling you close and you can smell the earthiness of him, like damp soil and campfire smoke. You find yourself staring at him, his proximity intoxicating, as you drink in his long lashes and the slope of his nose. 

He tilts your palm towards himself, his fingers pressing gently yet with firm enough pressure to push the splinter out of your skin. Pulling it out the rest of the way, his eyes flick up to yours. “Somehow I don’t think you’re the one that fucked up, sweetheart.” His voice is warm and you want to melt into him. 

“Well,” you start, clearing your throat, “I certainly wasn’t fucking his mistresses.” 

Something in his eyes darkens and a shiver runs down your spine. “He’s a fool for losin’ you,” he growls, and his words hit you with more force than you’d care to admit. 

His hand still lingers on yours, steady and reassuring and warm and for a moment you think he might lean closer. You desperately want him to. To press his mouth against yours, to feel his breath against your skin, to have his taste against your tongue. But he pulls back, his expression one of thin control, but you can see the storm behind his gaze. 

“A damn fool,” he mutters under his breath and you can’t help but wonder if he’s talking about himself or your ex. 

Logan lets your hand go, turning back towards the porch and you mourn the loss, your skin still tingling from the contact. You swallow hard, trying to shake off the intensity of the moment. It’s Logan—quiet, gruff Logan, who never really sticks around for a real conversation and yet here he is, offering help and showing that maybe he’s not entirely as unaffected by you as you thought. 

Your heartbeat drums in your ears as you watch him go back to work, prying up the next board, his muscles flexing beneath his worn shirt. His jaw clenches and there’s a focused determination in his movements and you can’t tell if he’s working out some anger or trying to keep himself in check.

You work in silence for several more minutes, the only sounds being the prying of loose boards and creaking lumber. There’s a tension between you now, more so than there was before, something palpable. 

It’s enough to drive you mad.

“What about you?” you finally ask, your voice somewhat hesitant. “You don’t talk about yourself much.”

Logan glances at you from the corner of his eye and his brow furrows, as if he’s weighing whether or not to answer. “Not much to tell,” he grunts, pulling up another board with more force than necessary.

“Somehow, I doubt that. You don’t just wake up one day alone in the woods with forearms like that.” 

Logan looks over at you and smirks. “Maybe I’m just really good with my hands.” His voice dips low and you can’t help the warmth that pools low in your belly at his words.

You swallow, your throat suddenly dry. “Yeah, no…yep. I’m starting to figure that out.”

He’s silent for a few moments as he goes back to work and the air between you hums with something charged. “You really want to know?” he asks, his voice rough. “I’ve been around for too long, longer than anyone should. Done things I’m not proud of.” He tosses another plank aside and all you can do it watch him. “I’ve…I’ve hurt people I care about. People I’ve cared about have hurt me. I’m not really sure I belong anywhere, so I just…drift.”

There’s something raw in his voice, something broken and vulnerable, and it catches you off guard. For all his outward strength, there’s man deep down inside who’s lost, and your heart aches for him.

“You belong here,” you say softly. 

He doesn’t look at you, but you can feel the tension shift as the weight of your words settle between you. Another board gets tossed aside. “Yeah, maybe.”

He finally raises his gaze to yours and for a moment the world quiets—the forest, the porch, all of it—as his eyes lock onto yours and his expression softens. You offer him a warm smile and then return back to the porch, hesitant to push him any further. 

You work comfortably together after that. The old boards removed, Logan helps you place and nail down the new ones. Your conversation is limited to the project, but you don’t mind. 

As Logan packs up his tools, you glance over at him. “Thank you.”

A half smile plays at the corner of his mouth. “You’re welcome,” comes his reply as he steps off the porch and heads down the path back towards his cabin. 

“Logan!” you call, lightly jogging after him before he slips out of view. He pauses and turns back towards you. “Can I make you dinner?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Haven’t you already been doin’ that?”

“No,” you say shaking your head, “I mean, yes, I have, but like a proper dinner? Fresh from kitchen to table. I can come by you, if you’d like.”

Logan studies you for a moment, his gaze intense and you can feel your heart beating against your ribs. He’s silent for so long you wonder if you’ve overstepped and you open your mouth to speak when he says, “Alright. Come by tomorrow, six o’clock.”

You can’t stop the smile that spreads across your face. “Tomorrow it is.”

+++

You’re up before the sun, your nerves a tangle of raw edges. You lay there, staring at the ceiling  and wondering what the fuck you’ve gotten yourself into. 

You weren’t expecting to meet someone out here in the woods. You were hoping for tranquility, a distraction to quiet the voice in your head that kept nagging you for how your life veered off course. That maybe if you worked more, did more, loved more you wouldn’t be a thirty year old divorcee. 

Instead, you find a mysterious man who sparks within you a flame you long thought extinguished. A ruggedly handsome man who’s somehow wormed his way into your life and has you wondering if maybe he can’t help mend the pieces of your broken heart. 

Except you don’t know if that same spark is ignited within him and if his gesture of dinner is simple kindness. A response to the kindness you’ve shown him over the last two months or if he’s feeling that same attraction you do. 

God, you hope he does. 

You spend the morning cleaning, trying to pour your nervous energy into something productive other than worrying about what the evening may bring. Driving into town, you agonize over what to make even though he’s been eating what you’ve made without complaint for weeks now. You opt to keep it simple—pasta with homemade meat sauce, a nice loaf of bread and a couple bottles of wine. 

While the sauce is simmering on the stove you get ready. You dress for comfort, a simple pair of leggings and a flowy top that hangs slightly off your shoulders.  You catch your reflection in the mirror and give yourself a silent nod of encouragement. Despite this just being dinner, the night brims with the possibility of maybe something more. 

Once the food is prepared, you carefully pack everything in a large basket and begin the walk to Logan’s cabin. The night is cool, but still holds the warmth of day and the promise of summer to come. You feel your anticipation heighten the closer you get to his place and your stomach drops when you see it appear up ahead. 

It’s just Logan, you remind yourself. 

Stepping up onto his porch, you give a hesitant knock at the door. He greets you almost instantly and you suck in a deep breath. Logan looks good and your heart does a flip as you take him in—well fitting jeans, a clean white shirt underneath a soft red flannel button down, his hair is still slightly damp from a shower. 

“You’re early,” he comments, standing aside to let you in. You catch the slight frown tug at his mouth as he notices the basket. “You coulda cooked here, you know.”

“Oh, well, I didn’t know if you’d want me invading your space,” you reply, following him deeper into the cabin and setting the basket down on the counter. 

Logan turns back towards you, bracing his hands against the counter. “I don’t mind you in my space.”

His words hang in the air between you and you can feel your pulse quicken. You glance up at him, and the way he’s looking at you—steady and unflinching—sends a thrill down your spine. 

You clear your throat, trying to settle the nerves in your chest. “Next time then,” you say lightly, hoping he can’t hear the slight waver in your voice. 

Logan’s lips quirk into a half smile. “Next time,” he agrees. 

He reaches into a cabinet above him, pulling down a couple of plates and glasses, setting a small table in the corner of the small kitchen. You keep yourself busy unpacking the food, arranging the bread, pasta and sauce on the table, working around him as he uncorks the wine and pours both of you a glass. 

Logan joins you then, raising his glass and clinking it gently against yours. He nods in a silent cheers and tips his head back as he drinks, his eyes never leaving yours. You can’t suppress the shiver that shoots down your spine.

Setting down his glass, he serves you and then himself, commenting, “This smells amazing.”

“Family recipe,” you reply, taking another sip wine. “Remind me to make it for you when I have fresh tomatoes. It’s even better then.”

“I’ll have to do that,” he says with a smile.

Conversation starts off slow, but not awkward, as you both test the limits of what you’re wiling to share. Logan’s answers are often short, reserved, but what he does reveal helps bring into focus the outline of the man before you. An outline you’re hoping he’ll let you fill in.

“George says you’re a mutant,” you start slowly and you don’t miss the way his posture stiffens, his fork scraping harshly against the plate. 

He goes still and you wonder if you fucked up. Crossed a boundary he wasn’t willing to cross.

Eventually, Logan’s eyes flick up to yours and he lets out a small hum. “He did, did he?”

You nod, chewing. “It doesn’t bother me.”

He’s quiet for a beat. “It bothers most people.”

“I’m not most people,” you reply, your voice soft. 

Something in his face softens then, the furrow of his brow a little less pronounced. A slight smile plays at his lips. “No. No you’re not.”

You feel a warmth bloom in your chest and your face flushes. Taking another bite, you ask, “Can I see?”

Logan studies you for a moment and you can see him deciding whether or not to show you that part of him he’d rather keep hidden. He sets the silverware down and he flexes his fingers before resting his palms back on the table. Then, he unsheathes his claws and you can’t stop the gasp that falls from your lips. 

You see him flinch at your reaction and he goes to retract his claws and you reach for him. “Don’t,” you say, your fingers hovering just above the blades. 

As he relaxes, you gently rest your fingertips against the metal, finding it surprisingly cool but still holding a faint warmth from his body. His eyes drop to where you’re touching him as you slowly begin to trace each blade with your fingers, following the slight curve down to where they emerge from his skin. You look up at him, finding his gaze fixed on you and you shiver under the intensity. 

“They’re beautiful,” you whisper. You feel him shudder beneath you as he retracts his claws, leaving your fingertips nestled against the skin between his knuckles. 

You pull your hand away from his, mourning the loss of his skin against yours. Logan clears his throat and pulls his hands into his lap, glancing down at them as if they’re foreign, something he’s never taken the time to notice before. He flexes his fingers once more before dragging his gaze back to your face.

“Do they hurt?” you ask quietly.

He shakes his head. “No. Not anymore.”

“Thank you,” you say quietly. “Thank you for showing me.”

Logan studies you for a long moment, searching your face like he’s trying to figure you out. You know he’s probably not used to this, someone seeing him as something other than a mutant, an aberration, someone who should be hidden away. Then, his face softens.

“People don’t usually ask,” he says quietly.

You smile gently, feeling that flame inside you burn just a bit brighter. “I just want to know you.”

He leans back in his chair, his gaze still steady, but more open, as if some of those invisible walls he surrounds himself with have started to come down. If only just enough to let the light shine through. 

An unspoken tension simmers, thickening the air, and you know he can feel it too, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s heavy with promise. You turn your attention back to your plate and for a few moments, neither of you speak.

“So,” you say after a beat, “Do you ever use them as forks?”

Logan huffs out a laugh, the sound surprising you and his eyes crinkle in genuine amusement. “I can’t say that I have,” he replies with a smile.

You grin. “You should give it a try.”

“If I do, you’ll be the first to know.”

The rest of dinner passes with easy conversation and you feel your nerves begin to settle, just a bit. Logan seems less guarded too, more at ease than you’ve ever seen him.

You help him clear the table, ignoring his request that you just sit and relax. As you stand next to him, emptying the leftovers into a container, you feel his eyes on you. When you hand him the container, your fingers brush again, but this time he doesn’t immediately pull away. His fingers linger just a bit longer than necessary and your breath catches in your throat.

“Thanks for dinner, he says quietly, voice low. “And for…understanding.”

You nod, feeling that unmistakable pull between you, the tug that’s kept you orbiting closer and closer to him. “Anytime, Logan,” you answer softly. “You don’t have to hide from me.”

There’s a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, like he’s been burned before and is still figuring out if he can trust what you’re offering him. And you understand his turmoil, trust having shattered your heart into pieces, pieces you’re still trying to pick up and reshape. 

Logan steps a little bit closer then and before you can say anything else, his hand gently reaches out and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture is simple but intimate and it sends a shiver down your spine, heat pooling lowly in your belly.

“C’mon,” he says. “Let me walk you home.”

He grabs your basket before you can protest and you follow him out into the night. There’s a full moon hanging heavy in the sky, illuminating the path in front of you, yet you remain close to Logan. You curse to yourself as you trip over an exposed root and then you feel Logan reach out for you, his fingers wrapping securely around your own. The heat of his palm against yours is almost overwhelming.

Your cabin comes into view and Logan slows, his fingers slipping from your grasp as he sets the basket down on the porch.

“Good night, Logan,” you say softly as you walk up the steps. 

As you turn from him, he reaches for your wrist, his fingers curling and pressing hotly against your skin. Your breath hitches as he climbs the steps to join you on the porch, and your gasps dies in your throat as he tilts your chin up and forces you to meet his gaze. 

“Do I make you nervous?” His voice is low, breath hot and damp against your skin. 

“Yes,” you breathe, somehow inching closer to him, your fingers reaching for the hem of his flannel and twisting into the fabric. 

“Why?” He brushes his nose against yours and you chase after the touch. 

Swallowing hard, you look up at him from under your lashes. You tilt further into him, your mouth hovering just over his. “Because I haven’t felt like this in a very long time and I don’t want it to go away.” Don’t want you to go away. 

Logan nods and whispers, “I’m not goin’ anywhere.” And then he presses his mouth to yours. 

It’s soft, barely a hint of skin against skin, but when you whisper, “Please,” against his lips, Logan growls and then he’s everywhere. His kiss claims you, his tongue licking in your mouth and you whimper as his fingers curl along the nape of your neck somehow pulling you impossibly closer. 

You wind your arms around his shoulders, your fingers tangling in the short strands at the back of his head. Your entire world is focused down to the feel of his lips on yours and the press of his fingers against your jaw as he pulls you towards his hungry mouth. 

Logan’s grip on you tightens, one hand splayed across your lower back and the other pressed firmly between your shoulder blades, anchoring you to him. The heat between you is palpable, each movement of his lips setting you further aflame. You lose track of time, lost in the sensation of his beard scraping against your skin, leaving a tingling trail in its wake.

When he finally pulls back, you’re both breathless and his forehead rests against yours, your shared breaths mingling in the space between you. His eyes are dark and intense as they search your face and you feel untethered, Logan being the only thing keeping you grounded.

“You okay?” he asks, voice rough, but surprisingly tender as his thumb traces along the line of your jaw.

You nod, swallowing the lump that’s formed in your throat. You don’t trust yourself to speak.

His lips quirk into a small smile. “Good.” He brushes a stray strand of hair away from your cheek, his hand lingering at the side of your face. He presses one last soft kiss to the corner of your mouth before he steps back and walks down the path back home.

+++

You can’t stop thinking about the kiss—Logan’s lips against yours, the taste of his tongue, the press of his hands against your skin, hot and heavy, yet gentle. 

You want to live in that moment forever. Want to know only his kisses for the rest of your life, for him to be the first person you kiss good morning and the last person you kiss goodnight. For him to kiss you just because he can, because he misses you, because he can’t get the feel of your mouth out of his mind and he needs to feel you again pressing against him. 

You also want to run away, hide yourself from these emotions that are overwhelming you and leaving you feeling raw and exposed and absolutely terrified. You haven’t kissed another man in two years and he broke your heart, leaving nothing but shattered pieces and dust in his wake. Dust that still clings to you despite your best efforts to sweep it up. Those pieces of your heart are still sharp, jagged where they should be smooth. 

You’ve always been trusting, choosing to see the light in others as opposed the darkness. Believing deep down that everyone deserves kindness, deserves a second chance, that one bad deed does not a bad person make. But he stole a part of that from you and you hate him for it. Hate that even now, after all this time, he’s able to worm his way into your brain and make you question the motives of the man who’s made you feel more alive than you have in months. 

Last night you felt unshackled, unbound by the fear that had chained you for so long. You felt as if Logan’s very touch, his presence, had set your soul on fire and instead of fearing the burn, you were ready to embrace the warmth. 

But now, raw contempt begins to simmer in your veins and you need something to pour your frustration into before it threatens to consume you whole. 

Throwing your hair up into a messy bun and throwing on a paint-stained shirt and ripped jeans, you head outside looking for a project to sink fingers into. In the small shed behind the cabin, you find a few gardening supplies—a small shovel, trowel, bow rake—and you drag them out and to the overgrown flower beds.

You don’t even bother with the tools at first, ripping at the dead growth with your bare hands, pulling it from the earth in great clumps and tossing it aside. Your pulse beats loudly in your ears as you move from bed to bed, clawing away the old growth, your breathing growing ragged and your palms staining with dirt.

Grabbing the rake, you dig at the remaining plants, tearing at the roots, destroying the new growth. Tears run hotly down your face, blurring your vision and your throat aches from force of your breathing and screams you’ve been holding back.

From behind you, you hear the sound of your name and you whip around so quickly, the rake goes flying from your hands. You can hear the snikt of Logan’s claws as they unsheathe and the splintering of wood as he deflects the rake flying at him. It clatters to the ground between you as he retracts his claws and looks at you, his brow furrowed in concern.

You wonder, then, exactly what you look like in that moment. Dirt caked on your hands and under your fingernails, cheeks flushed with exertion, hair a halo of disarray. The pure adrenaline you’d been running on wanes and your limbs suddenly feel heavy and you sink to the ground in front of him. You can’t bring yourself to look at him, because you’re afraid of what you’ll see.

Logan approaches you slowly, kneeling down in front of you and gently raising your chin to look up at him. The stark worry etched on his face makes you ache and fresh tears burn in your eyes. You wipe at your eyes, which only serves to smear dirt across your face.

“I’m terrified, Logan,” you whisper, wanting to reach for him, but afraid to touch him. “I terrified of how much I like you.”

“You scare me too,” he confesses softly and your heart breaks.

He leans closer, fingers resting hesitantly against your knees. You reach for him too, grabbing on to the open sides of his jacket and pulling him to you. Logan doesn’t flinch, doesn’t push back and instead envelopes you into his arms, your head resting against the solid warmth of his chest. 

Safe in his arms, you cry. Harsh, broken sobs as he rubs your back, the soft caress of his fingers along your spine anchoring you to him as he holds you. He murmurs into your hair that he’s got you, to let it all out, and you do.

Eventually, you calm and sigh, pressing your forehead against his chest, loathe to move just yet. “I’m broken, Logan,” you mumble into his shirt. You look up at him then, the softness and concern on his face making you physically ache. “I still have broken pieces where I should be whole.”

Slowly, tentatively, he brings his hands up to your face, cupping your cheeks in his hands. His thumbs brush at the dirt and tears under your eyes and he smoothes the hair away from your forehead. “Maybe some of my pieces fit,” he says, voice low, but steady. 

His words send a flood of emotion through you, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him. Then the gravity of what he’s saying hits you—he’s offering you himself, all his jagged and scarred pieces, the pieces no one else sees.

The pieces he wants you to see.

You lean forward, pressing the lightest of kisses against the corner of his mouth. His sigh is hot against your cheek, but he doesn’t press further. 

“Thank you,” you whisper into his skin and somehow it feels like the most important thing you’ve ever said.

“C’mon,” he says, “Let me help you get this cleaned up.”

You nod, wiping your nose with the back of your hand.  Logan stands, offering you his hand. You take it, your fingers slipping into his and his grip is steady, yet gentle as he helps you up. 

Without a word, Logan grabs the broken rake and begins removing the debris from the beds you laid waste to. You watch him work for a moment before joining in, pulling the weeds from the beds you hadn’t gotten to yet. Every now and then your eyes meet, but you don’t say anything. You don’t feel the need to fill the space with words, his presence beside you speaking volumes more than he could ever say. 

After a while, Logan pauses and looks over at you, wiping the dirt from his hands into his jeans. “You still got those seeds I gave you?”

“Of course I do.”

“Go get ‘em,” he says nodding towards the cabin. “We’ll plant something new.”

You retrieve the small pouch where you’ve kept it safe and come out to find Logan kneeling in the dirt, his fingers making small pockets of earth to house the new flowers. He looks up at you, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. You join him on the ground, dropping a few seeds in each well as he moves to create the next one. 

“I’m not very good at this,” Logan starts, covering the last well with dirt, “but I promise I won’t break you. You don’t gotta be scared of me.”

He looks at you then, his hazel eyes meeting yours and you reach for his hand, your thumb brushing across his dirt stained knuckles. 

“No,” you reply with a smile, “I don’t think I do.”

+++

It’s been three days since that moment with Logan in the garden and the air between you has been quiet. Logan hasn’t come by the cabin, but you hadn’t sought him out either. You weren’t avoiding him, exactly. More a need for space, a chance to process the feelings you felt for him, to test if you were truly ready to open yourself up to him.

Your mind never strays far from him, though. An almost constant loop plays in your brain of the way he held you, the way he spoke, the quiet promise he made not to break you. There’s a large part of you that believes him; your heart is screaming at you shed your lingering doubt and trust him, but your rational brain is grasping desperately to the kernel of truth that vows can be broken. 

So you turn to what you do best—pour your energy into other things. The cabin is spotless now, cleaned of disuse and age, turned into a cozy place of retreat, a simple shelter turned into a home. And yet…

You’re sitting on the porch, watching the sun dip lower in the sky, the book you’d been trying to read long forgotten. The forest is peaceful, alive with the sounds of early summer. But as calming as it is, you can’t ignore the ache in your chest—you miss him. More than you thought possible.

Just as you’re about to stand, the sound of boots against gravel catches your attention. You look up and there he is—Logan. His hands are shoved deep into the pockets of his worn jacket as he walks up the path. His look is cautious, as if he’s unsure whether or not you’ll accept his presence. 

Your heart skips a beat and you stand, wiping your palms against your jeans as he draws closer. His hazel eyes meet yours and there’s something softer about him, something open.

He stops a few feet away from you, gaze steady. “I wasn’t sure if I should come by.” His voice is still gruff, but quieter than usual. “If you needed space or not.”

“I did, need space. But not from you,” you clarify. You take a hesitant step towards him. “I missed you.”

Logan sighs then, his posture relaxing just slightly. “I wanted so badly to see you. I didn’t know if I should stay away.”

Before you can second guess yourself, you step down from the porch, closing the distance between you. You stand in front of him, noticing the faint lines of tension around his mouth, the way his jaw is clenched as if bracing himself for your rejection. 

“Don’t stay away,” you say softly, “I want you here.”

You reach for him, your fingers brushing against his hands as you pull them from his pockets. Logan doesn’t pull away and the warmth of his skin against yours feels like the most natural thing in the world. You feel it then, that familiar pull—the one that’s been there since the beginning, drawing you closer and closer into his orbit, his sun.

You brush your thumbs across his knuckles and look up at him. “You wanna come inside?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll make you something to eat?”

Logan nods, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”

As you lead him inside, something in the air between you shifts, something subtle. But you know one thing for certain—you’re not afraid anymore. Not of this.

+++

The sun has set, the food long gone and as Logan’s hand reaches for the front door, you slip in front of him. His scent overwhelms you, that earthy dampness you’ve come to associate with him flooding your senses. 

“What if you stayed?” you ask, the slight waver in your voice betraying your boldness. 

You watch as his eyes darken and he leans even further into your space. “Do you know what you’re asking, sweetheart?” he replies, eyes searching your face. 

Swallowing, you nod. “I do,” you whisper. 

Then you slide your arms around his waist, pulling him closer as you lean in and kiss the hollow of his throat. You can feel him swallow hard beneath your lips and you smirk into his skin as you drag your mouth higher, over the long column of his neck to nip at the corner of his jaw. 

“Stay,” you murmur in his ear.

Logan turns, his nose brushing against your cheek as he seeks your mouth and you inhale deeply as his lips find yours. His fingers wind themselves into your hair, resting against the nape of your neck as he pulls you closer. You whimper into his mouth when he pulls back, eyes blown black.

“Show me where,” he says, his voice low.

You lead him up the stairs, his hand warm in yours and you barely make it to the top before Logan’s spinning you around, mouth finding yours. His is kiss is demanding, so different from that first one all those nights ago. This is urgent and desperate, like he can’t possibly get you close enough to satisfy the need deep within him. And you feel it too, pouring yourself back equally into the kiss, moaning as his tongue finally slips alongside yours. 

Your fingers fumble along the top of his jeans, pulling his shirt from where it’s tucked and sliding your hands up along the sides of his ribs. He rewards you with a deep groan of his own, nipping slightly at your bottom lip.

“Christ, sweetheart,” he rumbles against your lips, kissing you once, twice, “I’ve been dyin’ to feel your hands on me.”

“Me, too,” you reply, gasping as his hands find the hem of your shirt, lifting it just enough to brush his fingers hotly along your skin. 

Logan pulls back just enough to look down at your face, his fingers still clutching the fabric of your shirt, but lifting it just a bit higher. His gaze is questioning, asking for silent permission to continue. You nod once and he slowly drags the shirt up, his fingers skimming along your sides, over the swells of your breasts as he pulls the shirt over your head. 

Despite the heat coursing through your veins, you shiver under the intensity of his stare. He kisses you again, inhaling deeply, before moving down, nipping over your chin, your throat, in between your breasts. 

Logan’s hands follow his mouth, running a trail from your shoulders, down long your spine, easily flicking open the clasp of your bra on the way. He glances up at you as he moves to pull the straps aside, dragging them down your arms. 

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” he asks, his hands coming up to cup your breasts, thumbs fanning out across your nipples.

A jolt of pleasure shoots down your spine and pools low in your belly. You feel like you might spontaneously catch on fire and he’s barely touched you. You can’t remember ever feeling like this when a man has touched you, so consumed by want and need.

His fingers trail lower, brushing along the top of your jeans, popping open the button. You grab for his hand, stopping him. You see the concern flicker across his face and you smile. “Your turn,” you say, sliding your palms up his chest and pushing the flannel from his shoulders, his shirt following suit.

You revel in his muscular physique, your fingers tracing along his collarbones, down over the broad planes of his chest, feeling the wiry hair beneath your fingertips. His muscles flutter beneath your touch as you follow the trail of hair lower, down to the vee between his hips. 

Logan’s arousal is evident by the tenting of his jeans, and your eyes locked on his, you dip lower, giving the faintest of caresses over the fabric.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he curses. “Take your pants off.”

It’s a command, not an ask, and one you’re more than willing to comply with. 

Nervous energy licks at your skin as your fingers tuck into the waistband of your jeans and pull them down. Logan follows your lead, unbuckling his belt and shoving his jeans over his hips, kicking them aside. His cock juts out proudly, thick and heavy, nestled in a bed of hair.

Logan’s on you before you can kick away the last leg, hoisting you up under your thighs and forcing you to wrap your legs around his hips. His palms are hot against your ass and you can feel his cock trapped between you. 

He moves you both to the bed, setting you down before crawling over you and slotting himself between your thighs. Leaning back on his heels, he stares down at you, skin flushed. He kisses you softly once, before dragging a single finger down the center of your chest, hooking it into the waistband of your panties. 

“What do you like?” he asks lowly, eyes boring into yours.

You stare at him, unable to comprehend his question as he slides his finger back and forth across your skin. Electric sparks of anticipation crawl up your spine and you can feel the rapid flutter of your heart against your ribs. 

“You want me to touch you with my fingers?” His voice is low, so low and you shiver. 

Your mouth has gone dry and you can only nod. 

“You want me to touch you with my mouth?” Logan leans down, skimming his lips across your collarbone, nipping lightly. 

Your fingers stutter across his shoulders and wind themselves into his hair. Logan’s smirk presses into the corner of your jaw. “Want me to touch you with both?”

“Please,” you whine into his neck, breath hot against his skin. 

Logan trails back down your body, kisses peppering over your neck, both breasts, your belly before he presses a kiss to the top of your clothed mound. He hooks his fingers into the waistband and looks up at you, asking for permission. At your nod, he pulls he material down, eyes never leaving yours as he trails his fingers down your legs and tosses the fabric aside.

You’re fully bare, exposed in a way you haven’t been in a long time and your nerves blush across your skin. Instinctively, you try to close your legs, but he stops you, his hot palms curling against your thighs.

“You don’t gotta hide from me,” Logan says, kissing your knee and spreading your legs further apart. “You’re so pretty like this. Flushed and wet and smelling so sweet for me.”

A jolt of desire zips down your spine. Nothing could have prepared you for the filthiness of words that would spill from his mouth. Or how much you’d enjoy hearing them.

“I don’t want to disappoint you,” you murmur.

“That’s not possible.”

“Other men have—“

Your words die in your throat as Logan grips your chin, forcing your gaze up to his face. His expression is soft, but his eyes flash with a glint of something dark. “When I fuck you, I’ll be the only man in your bed, understand?”

The roughness and edge in his voice makes you shiver and heat pools between your thighs. You swallow heavily and nod.

“I want this,” he says, his tone softer. “I want you. Whatever you’ll give me.”

Slowly, you reach for his hand and guide his fingers to where you’re wet and aching for him. At the first brush of his fingertips against your folds, you gasp and your fingers dig deeper into his skin. 

“Relax, sweetheart,” Logan coos. “I’m gonna make you feel good.”

And then he’s touching you, fingers dragging through your arousal before circling around your clit. He caresses you like he knows you and you’re molten beneath him. One finger, then two slip inside you, pressing against that spot that makes you squirm and grip at the sheets beneath you.

“Fuck,” you breathe, “You weren’t lying.” Logan quirks an eyebrow, fingers still curling within you, his rhythm picking up speed. “You are good with your hands.”

His chuckle rumbles through his chest as he continues to move, this thumb working over your clit. Your hips jolt off the bed when Logan replaces his thumb with his tongue, drawing the sensitive bud into his mouth. 

He continues to work your cunt, long, flat presses of his tongue against your clit punctuated by the short, sharp thrusts of his fingers. The dual sensation is enough to wind that tension in your core tighter, building you up higher and higher until you feel yourself reaching that inevitable peak.

“Logan, I—I’m so close,” you gasp, fisting your fingers into his hair.

His growl against your cunt is enough to send you over the edge, the vibrations rippling through your body as your orgasm washes over you. Through half lidded eyes, you meet his gaze from between your thighs, his eyes dark with desire and you shiver at the intensity of his stare.

Logan crawls over you, pressing a kiss to your lips. You can taste yourself on his lips, bright and sour, as he licks into your mouth. 

“Do you trust me?”

Logan’s fingers are still moving against you, wringing out the last of your orgasm and you can only nod. He withdraws his fingers and you whine, but he just smirks and taps your hip. 

“Turn over,” he commands lowly. 

A shudder ripples through you as you willingly comply, rolling onto your stomach as Logan’s palm trails from your hip over the swell of your ass. His fingers kneed into your flesh and you squeak as he curves them over your skin, pulling you up onto your knees, drawing your hips flush with his. The thick feel of his cock presses into your ass and you can’t help but push back, enjoying the strangled moan that falls from his lips. 

“I can’t wait to be nestled deep inside you,” he groans, slotting his cock between your thighs, running the length along your wet cunt. 

You peer over your shoulder and smirk at him. “Then what are you waiting for?”

Logan lines up then and the air punches out of your lungs as he slowly eases himself in to the hilt. He’s deep at this angle and you feel claimed, owned in the best way possible as he begins to move his hips. The drag of his cock against your walls is exquisite and you’re sure you’ve never experienced pleasure quite like this before. 

His fingers dig into the flesh at your hips, grabbing as much as he can to pull you back into him and you push back, meeting him thrust for thrust. His grip is enough to be bruising, teetering that line between pleasure and pain and yet you relish it. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he rasps. “Look so good stretched around my cock.”

Pleasure zips along your spine and curls along your limbs, each drag of his cock against you coiling that band in your belly tighter and tighter. Yet, you need more. You need to feel him, feel his arms around you, on you, feel his mouth hot and open against your skin.

“I need to feel you closer,” you whine. “Please, I—”

Logan’s arm slips underneath you, curling just under your breasts and pulling your back flush to his chest. He holds on, fingertips splaying across your ribcage as he fucks up into you, his breath hot and damp against your ear. 

You turn your head just enough to capture his lips, your mouth pressing against his in an open-mouthed kiss. He steals the moan from your throat as his other hand dips to where you’re joined, fingers beginning to circle around your clit. 

Slipping a hand into his hair, you hold him to you, your head falling back onto his shoulder. Logan groans when you rake your nails along his scalp and you do it again. Your mixed groans and the wet noises from where he’s thrusting into you fill the room and time seems to stop. There is nothing but the thick feel of him between your legs, the fervent press of his fingers against your clit and the tight grasp of his hand across your breast. 

A litany of praise falls from his mouth and his words burn through you, setting you aflame from the inside. It’s too early for thoughts of love and forever, but you can feel something real, something undeniable pulling you together, uniting you in a way more than just physical. You’re bound to him. 

Logan’s hand slides up your sternum, his fingers coming to cup your jaw, pulling your focus back to him. The pad of his thumb pulls at your lower lip. “Come for me, sweetheart,” he husks into your ear. “I wanna hear those pretty sounds you make.”

And you do, two more forceful thrusts sending you teetering over the edge, your orgasm ripping through you. Logan doesn’t stop, fucking you through wave after wave, his thrusts getting sloppier as he chases his own release. 

“Let me feel you, Logan,” you pant, your breath coming out in short gasps. “Please.”

With a deep groan into your shoulder he comes, his cock spasming deep within you, painting your womb with his seed. His arm around your hips holds you firmly in place as he uses your body to wring out the last of his pleasure, shallowly thrusting as your walls caress him. When he finally stills, breath hot against your skin, you can feel your combined come slick against your thighs. 

You don’t know how long he holds you like that, back to chest, keeping you in his arms simply because he can. 

Only later, when the sweat begins to cool on your skin and your flesh pebbles, does Logan lay you down, finally slipping from within you. He pulls you close and you rest your head against his chest, the comforting lull of his heartbeat echoing in your ear. 

You lightly trace your fingertips over the crest of his hipbone just to feel him beneath you. His breathing evens out, approaching that blissful edge of sleep when you glance up at him. Logan opens his eyes, gaze meeting yours and he smiles.

“Logan?”

His hum vibrates through his chest.

“I think we’re healing each other.”

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he answers, “I think we are.”

[borathae]

↳ Index [Day 15 - Incubus Sex]

Pairing: Dom!Yoongi x sub f.Reader x sub!Taehyung

Genre: Incubus!Yoongi, Best Friends to Lovers!Tae x OC, Supernatural!AU

Kinks: sex in a secluded winter cabin, summoning of a sex demon, Yoongi is a lot taller and beefier than them, he also has four arms <3, and he has a split tongue and demon fangs and horns and he’s hot, god I’m such a monster fucker hahaha, dirty talk, praise, good girl & good boy kink, examination play, breast play, nipple massages, cunnilingus, rimjob, thigh riding, guided male masturbation, handjob, anal fingering, male self fuck (Tae stuffs his own ass with his own balls), he also has to jerk off in front of her while she rides Yoongi’s thigh, leather kink, pussy rubbing, multiple orgasms, magical demon spit that makes them hornier, male anal sex, magical cocks (Yoongi can shapeshift his cock), he shapeshifts it to an anal toy and fucks Tae with it while Tae has to eat her out, then later they share Yoongi, she rides his face & he gets bounced on his cock, pissing from cumming too hard, tears & screams of pleasure, aftercare

Wordcount: 10.8k

a/n: all you had to do was mention the summoning of sex demon yoongi and i knew that i had to write this fadsnfan you also wanted best friends to lovers with Tae & OC sooooo this story is filled with tension and flirting and bruh unhinged sex fsdfna have fun you little whores 🖤 ps: yoongs looks way too innocent in the header bahaha

“Do you think this is a good idea? I watched horror movies which started like this”, you told your best friend two months ago when he came running to you with the idea of going on a winter holiday together.

“Horror movies aren’t real life. It’s going to be great”, he answered and the plan was set. 

You look around the place, breath coming out as white fog and nose chilly from the air. It has been snowing the entire car ride, but stopped five minutes ago. The snow sits under your feet and atop the roof of the wooden cabin. The trees carry a thick blanket as well, smaller branches bending under the weight.

The snow scrunches beside you, a deep exhale of a human follows. You turn your head, laying eyes on Taehyung’s flushed face. He is carrying both your bags, grinning from ear to ear.

“You still think this is a good idea?”

“Positivity ___, this is the best idea.”

“We stopped having signal around five kilometres back.”

“Let’s just see it as our own little digital detox.” He shoulders the bags. “Besides, this cabin has a landline.”

He walks up the three steps. You follow close behind, looking at your own feet in order not to slip and die.

“Yeah, until a serial killer decides to cut the line and murder us with an axe. I saw the movies, Tae.”

“Hush, no more talk about serial killers. This is a good idea.”

“Until it’s not.”

Taehyung turns. You collide with him, hands on his chest and lips dangerously close to touching his��. You inhale sharply, heart tightening in your chest. He is your best friend, but man, the way you feel for him would say otherwise. But that isn’t important right now. Your current situation is. You but a breath away from accidentally kissing him and him looking down at you with half-lidded eyes.

“Stop being such a nagging party pooper. This is a good idea.”

You watched his lips move as he talked. They are still moving. You don’t know what he is saying.

“___?”

“Huh?” you rip out of your trance, looking into his eyes.

He cocks his brow up at you.

“Can you unlock the door before we freeze out here?”

“Oh, uh, yeah sure”, you mumble, taking out the keys you got at the camp reception to unlock the cabin. You try to regulate your pulse while you do it, hoping that Taehyung can’t see your fingers tremble just a little. Your worries are for naught because Taehyung has his back turned to you, taking in the view.

The camp you currently find yourselves in consists of ten wooden cabins sprawled around a large lake and nestled into a valley between mountains and thick forests. If one wishes to do so, one can go ice skating on the lake or wander through the snowy woods. The mountains offer various skiing slopes and opportunities to go sledding. It was Taehyung’s idea to go on a best friend holiday together because the colder months have been stressful at both your jobs. The idea itself was amazing – not only because you could selfishly pretend that this holiday was romantic – if it wasn’t for the camp’s reputation of being as close to nature as possible. The cabin had electricity and warm water, but no internet or access to civilisation. Granted, there was the reception cabin with its restaurant, but it is five kilometres away from you behind a wall of thick forest and only reachable by a rocky road. If it wasn’t for Taehyung’s 4-wheel-drive jeep and his trusty snow chains, you most definitely would have gotten stuck already.

Taehyung called staying at this camp the perfect opportunity to forget capitalism and what it does to your nerves, you still call it a bad idea which will end in serial killer attacks.

The cabin is still chilly when you enter because there was no electrical heating installed, just one fireplace. 

“I’m freezing my ass off”, you whine, rubbing your own arms to create warmth.

“Carry the bags to our rooms. I’m getting firewood from outside”, Taehyung says and disappears through the door.

It doesn’t take him long to return to you standing in the living room with a face of horror carved deeply into your features.

“What happened? Did you see a serial killer?” he jokes, carrying big logs of wood in his arms.

“So we might have a problem and don’t lose your shit, okay?”

“Okay?”

He squats down in front of the fireplace, stacking the wood neatly.

“There is only one bed.”

He stops in his movements for a moment. You hold your breath, waiting for his reaction. The movements continue.

“I know.”

Your heart sinks into your stomach before a million butterflies lift it again.

“What do you mean you know?”

“I booked the cabin, didn’t I?”

“Yeah well, but…huh? You knew?”

“Sure I did.” He uses his lighter to start the fire, bending down to blow into the small flame until it grows and starts gnawing on the first log. He stretches out his hands, rubbing them together to warm them.

When you stay silent, he stands up and turns.

“Why? Is this a problem? We shared a bed before.”

“Yeah, when we were teens at summer camp with my mom. That’s so different.”

“I don’t think it is.”

“Yeah it is”, you throw back, crossing your arms in front of your chest. 

You have a weird way of hiding your massive crush on him. Whenever there is the slightest hint of blurring the lines, you pretend to be annoyed by the situation. It is childish, you are aware of it, but you also want to minimise damage as much as possible. If Taehyung would be the first to snuff out the delusions, it would ruin you. So you make sure to always kill whatever spark might form between you and him. This technique has helped you survive with your stupid feelings for him for more than eight years now.

You were twenty when you realised that the fondness you had for him was way more than just the fondness for a friend. You were twenty one when you realised that said fondness will never be reciprocated when he got a girlfriend and proceeded to date her for five years. Granted, you dated someone as well for three years of that, but your feelings for him never went away. You were twenty six when he broke up with his girlfriend and you started to have hopes again. You were barely twenty seven when you decided to keep your feelings to yourself and only stay his best friend, you were too scared to ruin what you had.

You are twenty eight now and your feelings for him are as strong as they could ever be and pretending that blurring the lines annoys you gets harder and harder by the day. But you have to. What if you are only imagining it? What if he doesn’t feel the same?

Taehyung scrunches his brows at your reaction, crossing his arms in front of his chest as well.

“I didn’t think that the bed would be such a bother to you. If it makes you feel any better, I’ll sleep on the couch”, he says and pouts.

Now That you don’t want.

“No, it’s just…I packed my ugliest PJs, it’s embarrassing.”

He scoffs, features softening.

“You’re so weird. As if I ever cared about the state of your sleepwear. Do you wanna start with dinner?”

You take a deep breath. The situation is saved. You made sure the lines stopped blurring and he wouldn’t be angry at you.

“Sure. I’m so down for ramen tonight.”

“Nice, me too. We could go searching for herbs in the forest. To elevate the taste.”

“No, you stay here. The last time you tried to cook with herbs from the forest, you had the shits for three days.”

“How could I forget? My asshole was so raw afterwards. I swear I thought that I shat out my insides at one point.”

“Nice. Thanks for that image”, you say sarcastically.

Taehyung laughs. You join him a second later, exchanging a sneaky glance with him. He is so beautiful without even trying. If only your morals were a little more twisted, you would kiss his stupid smile away. Taehyung breaks the eye contact, rolling his lower lip between his teeth as he gets on his tiptoes to get a pot from the upper cupboard. Are your eyes deceiving you or did he gulp after he ended the eye contact?

No, don’t be ridiculous. You shake your feelings away and busy yourself with unloading the groceries you got for the week.

The next town was twelve kilometres away. You drove through it on your way to the camp. It consisted of one main road and straight lines of side roads. It had no town centre and every important shop was located along the main road. The townsfolk looked at you with grim eyes and tight lips as you rolled pass them. The clerk in the supermarket barely wanted to greet you, let alone wish you a safe journey. You called the town proof for serial killers while Taehyung called you ridiculous. You were joking of course, but it was fun to tease him a little. You liked when he threw back a witty remark.

You eat the ramen in front of the fire, sitting on a few cushions on the floor and with blankets draped over your shoulders. It is very warm and cozy and your initial distaste for the remote location was gone.

“It’s so quiet out here”, you say.

“Yeah, right?”

You and Taehyung have finished dinner by now, you have already washed the dishes and are now warming your feet by the fire, sitting next to each other. Your arms are almost touching.

Taehyung rolls his head back and closes his eyes. You study him. The fire shines onto his neck, you are so close that you can see his skin texture. You are so insane, but you swear that your tongue knows exactly how it would feel like to lick him there. He inhales deeply and exhales through his nose.

“I really needed this. Work’s been dragging me down.”

You break your eyes away from his neck, staring at the flames instead. You are such a dirty woman. 

“I get you. I’m so glad that I announced my break months ago and I could say a big fat goodbye to the projects coming in this week.”

Taehyung chuckles, “so much for team comradery.”

“Yah”, you slap his stomach gently, “you know exactly how shitty Yunjin and Mina are when it comes to being good colleagues. At least the team knew that I would be gone two months prior unlike them who announce it a week prior.”

“I know, I was just teasing you. You’re cute when you whine.”

“Sorry?”

He smiles languidly and peels one eye open to look at you.

“Nothing”, he says and closes his eye again.

You gulp, tugging at the collar of your jumper. Your face is burning hotter than the fire. You swear that you actually felt your ovaries throb at his words. You are so shocked that you have no chance to pretend to be annoyed by the blurring of lines before Taehyung already talks again.

“Thinking about all the work I left behind is glorious, you’re right. God, I can’t wait to come back to work and have it all be done by the others.”

“Why are you allowed to be a shitty colleague, but I’m not?”

“You can be a shitty colleague, I fully support that. I don’t know why you’re still staying at this shit place anyway.”

“Because it’s hard finding something new. God, do we need to discuss this right now? I’ve already been stressing about my situation enough.”

“No of course not. Sorry” He rolls his head to the front and looks at you. “No more work talk. This week is supposed to be our detox. No phones, no internet, no work. Just you and I in this little cabin in the woods where nobody can hear us.”

“If you weren’t the person closest to me, this sentence would have sounded creepy as fuck.”

He chuckles, eyes glimmering in the shine of the fire. You grin, leaning in to nudge him with your arm.

“What should we do though? Now that nobody can hear us?”

His eyes flit to your lips. You saw it clearly. Your chest tightens, your airways close up. He runs his teeth over his lower lip then whispers his words.

“I don’t know, you tell me.”

His eyes flit up, connecting with yours with such intensity that your vision blurs a little. Holy shit.

“You’re being fucking creepy. Stop messing with me”, you hiss in faux annoyance, pushing at his chest.

“What did I do?” he asks.

“You’re acting like a serial killer, it’s weird”, you lie, stumbling to your feet, “I’m taking a shower.”

“What if I follow you like in Bate’s Motel? You know, stabby-stabby with my huge knife into your bare back.”

Holy shit.

“Then I’m grabbing you by the balls and dragging your ass outside to sleep in the snow.”

He laughs and then you close the door to the bathroom. 

Holy. Shit.

Things changed in the living room when you come back. Taehyung pushed the couch further away from the fire and made a circle with candles.

“What the hell are you up to now?”

He looks over his shoulder, scanning his eyes over your body.

“Cute PJs, I don’t know why you think they’re ugly.”

“The edges are frayed and I have a hole in my thigh part.”

“You can’t even see that. Come, sit next to me.”

You do so cross-legged.

“What are you doing? For real.”

“I’m making a summoning circle.”

“I’m sorry?”

He points at the book in front of him.

“Wait. You got the book? I mentioned it as a joke, you know?”

“Yeah, I got the book. Isn’t it cool? I followed the instructions just as described. We can finally talk to ghosts.”

One must know that you and Taehyung have an unhealthy obsession with the supernatural. If there is a new ghost hunting show, rest assured that you are watching it together. If there is a new book about the supernatural, rest assured that one of you will get a copy. One time you tried to go ghost hunting yourselves, but had to give up because you both got scared with the first sound and ran back to your car. The supernatural doesn’t scare you, only real humans do. Taehyung always says that bad ghosts are only bad ghosts because they were wronged by humans, which is another proof that the real evil are humans.

“Are you serious? Here?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“It’s our first night here. What if we summon an evil ghost?”

“Then we befriend them and help them find what they need.”

“You’re a dreamer if you think evil ghosts wanna be our friends.”

He pouts. He is so adorable that you give up with a chuckle.

“Fine, we can befriend evil ghosts, but if we can’t? We still have a week to go and I don’t wanna spend it fighting some evil entity.”

“No, but this spell is safe. Look, they call it the summoning of a helper. We can talk to a nice ghost.”

You read the page carefully. Taehyung was right. The spell sounded safe and besides, you were never successful in your endeavours. Of course you were a believer, but you were also a realist. Things like summoning ghosts or talking to them isn’t real. Taehyung seems so smitten by the idea however that you can’t say no to him.

“Fine, let’s do it.”

“Yay! I’m so happy!” he exclaims, grinning from ear to ear.

“What do we have to do?”

“Hold hands and then say this sentence five times. Oh great helper we summon thee.”

“Sounds easy.” You intertwine hands with him. “Let’s do it.”

You and he hold hands and begin chanting. You keep holding hands after the chanting, staring at the candle circle. Nothing happens. You already expected it, but Taehyung seems devastated.

“Why is nothing happening?”

“Maybe we didn’t do it right.”

“Right. Let’s do it again.

“Tae no, I don’t-”

He doesn’t let you finish your sentence, beginning to chant a second time. You give up with a sigh and join him. As expected, nothing happens.

“I don’t get it. Something should happen”, he murmurs, flipping through the book.

“Well, we tried. Maybe it just wasn’t meant to happen.”

“No, let’s try it one more time please.”

“Tae, I don’t think-”

Yet again you aren’t allowed to finish your sentence, except that it wasn’t Taehyung who interrupted you this time around. The fireplace and the candles roar up in bright flames and heat. A blinding flash of light for just a second then the room is normal again. Except for the man sitting on a chair in the middle of the candle circle. He has a cup of tea against his lips, looking surprised as if he was dragged from where he was before.

You and Taehyung scream instantly, jumping to your feet and clutching each other.

The man screams back at you, but he does it mockingly.

“Aaah! I get it, I get it. Why are we screaming?” he calls over your voices.

“What the fuck just happened?!”

“Tae what did we do?!”

You and he turn to each other, holding hands.

“What the fuck?!” you yell at each other.

“Yeah, what the fuck?” the man agrees then snaps into his fingers, “are you done now? Cause I have a lot to say.”

You and Taehyung turn to him. He looks human except for his golden eyes and black horns. His hair is just as dark and his sculpted, big body is wrapped in black leather clothes and a black cape. He is wearing leather gloves and boots.

“You have no manners, going about summoning me and screaming at my face. Who do you think me to be?” the man? Ghost? Demon? scolds, wagging his finger.

“What, what, who are you?” Taehyung stutters, clutching your hands tightly.

“What, what, wha-”, he mocks him in a high pitched voice and then continues with sass, “I don’t know, you tell me. You were the ones who summoned me in the middle of my morning tea, you rude brats”, the stranger spits and lifts his cup, “do you think I’m available twenty four seven? Of course not, I have my working hours as well.”

“___ can you understand him too?” Taehyung whispers to you.

“Yeah, I can”, you whisper back.

“Well duh. Last time I checked, I can speak whatever language you mortals speak. Tch, you are more ill mannered than I thought you to be, fucking brats.”

You and Taehyung exchange a look. It is Taehyung who steps closer to the stranger, keeping you safe behind him.

“Be welcome oh good ghost. What can we call thee? How may we help thee cross into the afterlife?”

The stranger studies Taehyung’s features and bursts out a laughter with such enthusiasm that Taehyung’s hair moves from his breath. He should be disgusted by it, but something about the scent in his breath makes Taehyung feel dizzy and almost drawn to the stranger.

“Me a ghost? You amuse me, mortal. My name is Salaryoongilzus from and to Melzons, First of his Name and Devourer of Souls, but you can call me Yoongi for short.” He bows. “At your service.”

You step next to Taehyung.

“And what are you?”

“Guess.”

You pick up the book from the floor. Taehyung presses his head against yours as he reads the page with you.

“Taehyung”, you gasp and point at a small writing which suddenly appeared at the bottom of the page. “Demon. We summoned a demon.”

“A helper demon?”

“Look. A sex helper demon.”

Your heads snap up simultaneously, eyes widened and lips parted.

The demon Yoongi tips his imaginary hat, carrying a sly smirk on his lips.

“We summoned a succubus? How did that happen?”

The smirk drops from his lips. He points his finger at Taehyung.

“Rude brat, I’m an incubus. Succubus is for female sex demons, I’m an incubus, a male sex demon. Get your terminology straight.”

“An incubus?”

“Do I look like I have tits and a cunt to you?”

Taehyung studies him.

“Obviously I don’t. Go look at your girlfriend if you aren’t sure how such body parts look like.”

“No she isn’t my girlfriend.” “He isn’t my boyfriend.”

Yoongi, the incubus, blurts out laughter again, pointing his finger between you and Taehyung.

“Now this is interesting. You aren’t dating and yet you have so much sexual energy between you, it is as if you have been fucking for years.”

You and Taehyung exchange an awkward yet tension filled look. Somehow the room got hotter.

“Oh? Ohoho, this is really interesting.” Yoongi says and sits down on his chair. He crosses his legs and sips on his tea. “So you two are friends?”

“Best friends.”

“Best friends and you had feelings for each for how many years?”

It gets more and more difficult to exchange a look with Taehyung. It feels like your heart is beating out of your chest, beating even harder when you see how red his cheeks have become.

“You didn’t know?! Hah!” Yoongi slaps his own knee as he laughs, stomping his feet excitedly. “This is great. Best friends who have been pretending as if blurring the lines was a normal thing to do between friends. Tell me how many times have you jerked off to each other’s image?”

“Excuse me?” “I wouldn’t dare!”

Yoongi smirks knowingly. He takes a calm sip of his tea.

“Fine”, he says and stands up. “You convinced me to stay. Cases like yours are too nourishing to miss out on. Couples, you see, have weak sexual energies to feast on. Only a few are delicious after years together, but most produce bitter energies. They tired each other out and summon me for help in fixing their sex life and I have to make do with what shitty energies they still have left. But best friends? Best friends who have been dreaming of fucking each other for years? Now that is the kind of energy I fucking love”, he says and licks over his lips. His tongue is split like that of a snake and behind his pouty lips, a set of fangs is glimmering in the lights.

“But…” you begin and look at Taehyung. He can’t look at you, breathing heavier than he normally does. You are panting as well, but know that whatever is happening to you and him is the influence of the sex demon. You wave your hands at him as if he was an insect you tried to swat away. “Shoo, go away.”

He chuckles, “adorable.”

“We don’t need your help. Shoo.”

“Yes you do. Otherwise you wouldn’t have summoned me.”

“Well, it was an accident.”

“Nope, it wasn’t.”

“Yes! It was. We don’t need help from a sex demon.”

“Too bad, I’m not leaving. A deal’s a fucking deal, even if I wanted to leave I can’t unless I fucked both of you to satisfaction.”

“What? But we didn’t ask for that.”

“Honey, you summoned a helper and I was the one being summoned. You know what that means, don’t you?” The demon steps closer to you. So close in fact that you get dizzy from his sweetened breath and feel weak from his intense stare. 

You barely shake your head, feeling hot between your legs.

“It means the one thing you both needed help with the most, was sex. Or lack thereof in your sad case. If you needed help gardening, a little gardening helper would have appeared. If you needed help killing someone, an assassin demon would have appeared. But instead I’m here now. An incubus, the goddamn personification of sex.” He reaches out and brushes the back of his hand down your cheek.

You whimper, knees buckling.

“Deny it all you want, but you two are long due for a good fucking.”

You moan, taking a step closer as you chase his kiss.

“___”, Taehyung stops you from crossing the candle circle, pulling you back to him, “don’t go to him. Who knows what he will do to you.”

Yoongi lifts his hands in defeat, “don’t worry, I’m a good boy. You know, centuries ago we were, let’s say, a little more free in how we took humans. But you know, modernisation and human rights and being civil beings, blah blah blah, basically means that we can now only do what the human subconsciously consents to.” He rolls his eyes. “One gets a new boss one time and the entire system is renewed. You should have been there when the reforms happened. There was so much bloodshed”, he laughs, “but oh well, rules are rules. If you aren’t secretly craving for something, I can’t do it to you. Deal is a deal.”

“Okay?” Taehyung cocks his brow up.

Yoongi sits down and sips on his tea. 

“You don’t believe me? Go ask your girlfriend. She’s been leaking into her little pants ever since your little feelings came to light.” 

“Huh?” “No, I’m not!”

Taehyung gawks at you. You meet his eyes, feeling hot in embarrassment.

“I’m not!” you insist.

Yoongi chuckles.

“Don’t laugh, I’m not!” You wave your hands again. “Shoo, the holy word compels you, leave. Whatever that holy word may be for you.”

“Religion isn’t going to work on me, doll. Humans made it up to pretend as if they were better than others and to have an excuse to greedily take money from the helpless in the name of their gods. I’m staying and you are getting fucked.”

“___, battle plan”, Taehyung says and takes your hand to drag you to the bedroom.

“Take your time. I’m not going anywhere”, Yoongi singsongs, sipping his tea afterwards. He leans further into his chair, sighing in relaxation.

Taehyung closes the door and locks it. He turns to you with his folded hands in front of his lips. A second later, he uses them to point at you.

“So we may have fucked up.”

“Well duh, we did! There is a bloody incubus in our living room! That’s what you get from experimenting”, you exclaim and push at his chest. 

“What I get? Excuse me? You were in on the plan!" 

“Yes, because I thought that it would be a scam! Summoning of ghosts isn’t real! It never was.” 

“How dare you”, he gasps, clutching his imaginary pearls.

“I said what I said.” 

He pouts and crosses his arms. You huff out air, mirroring his stance. You share a moment of intense silence, both suddenly reliving what the demon told you. You fluster at the same time, breaking eye contact. 

Taehyung is the first to be brave enough to speak up.

“Fact is, we have an incubus in our living room and he won’t leave until he fucked us.”

“I know, that’s insane Tae.”

“It is, but we won’t get him away any other way.”

“You’re not actually suggesting we take his offer?”

He shrugs his shoulders, “I mean, why not? It’s not like he was that wrong. We haven’t been laid in a long time.”

“Speak for yourself, mister.”

“Well, did you?” he challenges with a cock of his brow.

“No”, you mumble and lower your head in defeat.

“See? We take the deal, get it over with and he leaves. Done. And then we burn the book and never speak of tonight again.”

What he says makes sense. It’s insane, but it makes sense.

“Fine.” You give in. “How are we doing this? Taking turns in the bedroom while the other waits outside?” 

“Or we could…” he looks at your lips.

“You’re joking”, you gasp, feeling drawn to him.

Taehyung smiles awkwardly and rubs his neck nervously.

“I mean, was he that off?”

“No, I mean yes, I mean no. I mean, I don’t know.” 

Taehyung steps closer and takes your hands. Your breath hitches, your skin tingles. He caresses your knuckles.

“He wasn’t off as far as I’m concerned”, he confesses in a soft voice, eyes racing between yours.

“Tae, holy fuck this is…”

“...insane? Yeah, but also freeing. I’ve been carrying these feelings with me for years and I swear I wanted to use this holiday to finally confess to you. Granted, I wanted to take you on a star watching walk and confess to you under the moon, but I guess accidentally summoning a sex demon who discovers our secret is more our style.”

You laugh. He laughs with you. It sheds both of you of so much nervous weight on your shoulders. 

“Yeah, I guess it is”, you agree.

A moment of silence. Taehyung closes the distance, stubbing your nose with his. You sigh and close your eyes, lips parting as you chase his kiss. Taehyung, who understood the signal, takes it and kisses you. 

Not one second is wasted before you and he find your rhythm and your hands melt deep into the other’s softness. It isn’t long after that the kiss becomes heated. Perhaps it is the influence of the sex demon or the sheer attraction to each other, but you begin moaning and groping each other hungrily. 

“Stop wait, stop”, you break it.

Taehyung whimpers softly, chasing your kiss as his big hands knead your buttocks.

“Don’t stop this please. I dreamed of this for years, please”, he begs, lips brushing your cheek as he seeks your kiss.

“Tae, the incubus.”

“Right. We should probably see if he’s still there.”

Despite not wanting to, you break the moment for the sake of getting rid of your living room problem. You hold hands, opening the bedroom door together. You peak out. 

“Hello”, Yoongi coos, wiggling his fingers.

“Shit”, the door slams close. You and Taehyung exchange a look. “Tae fuck, this is actually happening.” 

“I guess it is.”

“This is insane.”

“It is.”

“Okay, I’m doing it.”

Taehyung hugs your arm, “do it.”

You and he open the door and enter the living room.

“Rude. Slamming doors isn’t very civil of you”, Yoongi says, studying the way Taehyung clutches you. The scent of your sexual energies became stronger ever since you were in the bedroom. He can’t wait to feast on it.

You and Taehyung stand in front of the demon, buffing your chests to appear stronger.

“If we do this, can you promise us to leave afterwards?” 

“Demons don’t make promises, but a deal is a deal. Yes I will leave afterwards. Are we done now? I could have made myself another cup of tea in the time you two brats were talking. I’m bored.” 

“Give us a moment”, Taehyung says and turns to you. He takes your hands, squeezing them tightly. 

“Tae”, you whisper, gazing into his eyes.

“Do you really want to do this?” 

“Yes, I do. You?”

“I do, yeah. Just…” he cradles your face. “...whatever happens, I love you.”

“I love you too, Tae. I have loved you since-”

“Yeah, yeah we get it. You two are so in love. Shut up and let’s get to fucking. I’m not here to listen to you yap to each other about feelings.” 

You click your tongue in annoyance, turning to the demon. Taehyung does the same.

“First Mister Yoongi from and to something”, you say, snapping your fingers, “you’re rude and impatient. And second of all, if we agree to your deal, are you going to destroy our souls?” 

Yoongi smirks in amusement, “you’re a feisty one, I like you already.”

“Answer my question.”

Yoongi lifts his hands in defeat, “fine. No, I am not going to destroy your souls. As I said before, I will be feasting on the sexual energies you are creating. It will be painless, unless you want it to hurt”, he explains and flashes his fangs playfully.

You gulp, taking a step back. You look at Taehyung.

“Dude, he’s, like, really doing it to me. The fangs thing was hot”, you tell him.

“I know, right?” 

Yoongi chuckles, “you flatter me.” 

It is Taehyung who speaks up next, “if you eat our sexual energies, does it mean that we won’t have any left for the future?”

“Mortals and their endless questions”, Yoongi says under his breath, massaging the bridge of his nose in exhaustion. He takes a deep breath and talks with annoyance in his deep voice, “no this will not happen. Don’t be stupid.”

Taehyung pouts, glancing at you.

“He wasn’t being hot to me, did you see that?”

“Yeah, rude.”

“I can be hot if you want me to”, Yoongi says and grabs Taehyung by the wrist to drag him close. 

Taehyung stumbles with a surprised squeak, moaning a second later when Yoongi drags his split tongue up the side of his neck. Taehyung presses his legs together, twisting Yoongi’s shirt. 

You gulp. This is so hot to look at, but also, you need to save Taehyung.

“Hey, leave him. We didn’t say yes to the deal yet”, you spit and drag Taehyung out of the demon’s claws. 

Taehyung stumbles, colliding with your body, weakened and dizzy. He drops his head on your shoulder, panting heavily. 

Yoongi studies him with a knowing smirk.

“For the sake of your friend, say yes. I don’t think he can take a lot more.” 

“Tae, are you okay?” 

“I need sex, ___, I’m”, he presses his lips to your neck, kissing it sloppily. “Holy fuck, I want you. Holy fuck, I…”

“Tae...” you mewl, eyes threatening to close and skin tingling like crazy. You wanted this for years. It feels so good. 

“Hey! Stop that, I’m still here!” Yoongi snaps you out of it in a sharp voice. 

You and Taehyung look at him.

“Should we?”

“I think we should.”

“Fine”, you say, “we will agree to the terms we just discussed.”

The flames flicker aggressively, somewhere far away, a bell tolls. Yoongi smiles triumphantly and claps into his hands.

“The deal has been made. Wonderful. Let’s get started.” 

“So how are we going to do this?” 

“You are going to listen to me. I will tell you what to do.”

“And if we do and we’re done, you’ll leave?” 

“Promise”, Yoongi says and smiles wickedly. 

“Fine. Then let’s get this over with”, you say and squeeze Taehyung’s hand.

“Wonderful.” Yoongi claps into his hands. “First things first, you two are too clothed. Get naked and let me see what I have to work with”, he says, busy with taking off his gloves. He throws them over the chair, stretching out his fingers.

You and Taehyung exchange a shy look. You never saw each other naked before. You saw each other in swimwear but that’s it.

“The time to be shy has passed. Get naked before I rip it off of you”, Yoongi orders sharply. 

“I love you, yeah?” Taehyung says.

“I love you too.” 

“I guess, this is happening.” 

“Turn around, let’s do it like that.”

You and he turn your backs to each other and start to undress. 

“Mortals are fascinating. You are about to get fucked and yet you are still shy.” 

“Shut up.”

Yoongi chuckles, “I like you. You’re exciting.” 

“Tch whatever. I’m naked, Tae. You?”

“Me too.” 

“I’m turning.”

“Okay. Three, two, one.”

You and Taehyung gasp, eyes widening in awe. This is him. Naked and turned on. This is you. Naked and turned on. 

“Holy fuck Tae, you’re so handsome. I…” your eyes trail off to his cock. “Damn this is…wow.”

“You’re so beautiful too. I can’t believe you’re real”, he says, eyes flitting between your tits and your pussy. “You are the most beautiful woman to ever exist.”

“You think so?”

“Of course I do. I-”

“We get it, you’re in love. Fucking hell, mortals are so emotional”, Yoongi says and steps out of the candle circle. 

“You can do that?” 

“Well duh, you made a deal”, he dismisses you and presses himself between you and Taehyung. “Now let’s see.” 

He turns to you first. 

"Stay still.”

He touches your tits, eliciting a sharp gasp from you. His palms are so soft and warm, his hands are human but big. So big and masculine. His fingers are so long, currently pinching and rubbing your nipples. 

You can only handle it by grabbing his lower arms and whimpering softly. They are strong and muscular, his body is so warm. You feel dizzy.

“A good pair of tits. Turn.” He says and does it for you. 

He touches your back and arms. Each second turns you on more and more to the point where you can barely stand up. 

“Pretty back. I bet your little friend fantasised about cumming on it a dozen times before.”

“Ah..”

“Mhm, you liked that, didn’t you? Such a needy girl”, Yoongi taunts and grabs your hip. He puts his other hand on your head and pushes you down until you are bent over. 

“Ah geez, warn me. I didn’t stretch.” 

“Too bad”, Yoongi says and falls to his knees, now eye to eye with your ass. He spreads it, making you mewl in embarrassment because you know for a fact that Taehyung looks as well. 

You know because he moaned softly when Yoongi revealed you. 

“Pretty hole, but not virgin. Not done by a real cock though. Dirty girl, do you like stuffing toys up your hole?” Yoongi coos.

“I uhm”, you begin writhing, feeling embarrassed.

“Don’t flee, I’m not done”, Yoongi orders and sticks out his tongue to drag it over your hole.

“Ah, oh god”, you get out, falling to your knees because it felt too good. 

Yoongi sees no problem in it, grabbing your hips to pull you into a doggy position. You are more exposed like this, mewling into the floor. 

“Such a pretty hole and a pretty cunt to go with it”, he rasps, tracing every inch of it with his long fingers. “So wet.” He licks his fingers. “So sweet”, he growls, sending shivers through you. 

“Please”, you beg, pushing your hips closer to him.

“Good. Done.” Yoongi however abandons you, standing up and turning to Taehyung. 

With wobbly knees you turn as well, kneeling as you look up at them. Yoongi is a lot taller than Taehyung, commanding the room without having to try.

Taehyung looked at you first, but changes it when Yoongi touches his pecs. He looks up at him, panting nervously and making puppy eyes at him.

“Now you. I heard the disgusting things you were thinking as I examined her. You’re a dirty one, aren’t you?” 

Taehyung gulps. 

“Yes you are, but also a pretty one. Good pecs with pretty nipples”, Yoongi says as he rubs them. “Tongue out.” 

Taehyung obeys. 

Yoongi inspects it and hums.

“Good. Back in.”

Taehyung obeys. Yoongi runs his hands down his torso and grabs his cock. 

Taehyung moans, thrusting into his touch and grabbing bundles of his shirt. 

“You have an impressive cock for a human. It may rival that of a demon.”

“Ah, please.” 

Yoongi squeezes his tip until it leaks, picks it up and licks it.

“Sweet. Both of you. How pleasing. Turn”, he says and does it for Taehyung.

The latter falls to his knees all on his own, getting into doggy position with his ass stuck high into the air. 

“Holy shit”, you get out under your breath, eyes glued to his exposed hole. The view gets denied of you very soon when Yoongi kneels down and therefore shields you from it. You scoot to the side, greedily wanting more. 

“Someone seems to be willing. Pretty hole and would you look at that? Not virgin either.” 

Your pussy throbs. Taehyung looks at you with submissive puppy eyes, fingers trying to grasp you. You reach out, hooking your fingers with him. He holds you so desperately, turning you on with it.

“Not done by a human either. Look at that, you and ___ can share toys from now on”, Yoongi says and bends down to lick his hole. 

Taehyung moans with such utter and raw pleasure that you feel dizzy. Even his eyes go out of focus and cross a little. He looks as if he wanted this exact thing done to him for years, as if he was just waiting for someone to lick his hole. He presses back, smothering Yoongi with his ass this way.

He chuckles and breaks away, split tongue dripping saliva.

“Someone is very eager. How interesting.” 

He stands up, leaving Taehyung in his agony. 

“Get up, the both of you. I’m done with my examination. I know exactly what to do to you.”

You manage to get up quicker. Taehyung is still too wobbly to do so, only managing to get to his knees. 

“That will have to do. Mortals are so weak”, Yoongi says and sits down on his chair. He spreads his legs in a commanding, masculine way, shifting his eyes to you. “Come here, pretty girl.” 

You obey his command without hesitation. His spit is still sticking to you and has been gradually ruining you more and more. You feel enchanted, wanting to obey whatever command he has for you. 

“Sit”, he orders, patting his thigh. 

You obey.

“Nono, so you can face him.” 

“Sorry, yes”, you correct the position. 

Yoongi grabs your hips and pulls you down the last few inches. You moan loudly at the first contact, back arching and fingers digging into his sculpted thigh. The leather is so rough against your sensitive pussy, his hands are paradise as they hold your hips. 

“Move.” 

You obey his orders, legs trembling as fiery pleasure courses through you. 

“Good girl. Now, you are going to touch yourself to the view of her.”

“What?” Taehyung croaks, eyes glued to your body and how it moves on Yoongi’s thigh. Your breasts looks so ravishing like this. Taehyung craves a taste of them.

“You heard me. Show her what you were doing whenever you jerked off to her.” 

“But I-”

“Don’t try to deny it. I know you lied. You touched yourself to her too many times to count “

“Tae”, you whimper, meeting his eyes. 

You look so blissed out, so shaken by pleasure. Taehyung draws closer, reaching out to cup your cheek. You lean into his touch, trembling on Yoongi’s thigh.

“Tae…”

“I’m sorry, he’s right. I just-”

“Less words, more actions. Fucking touch yourself before I decide to force you”, Yoongi spits.

“Do as he says Tae, please”, you breathe, holding his cheeks, “please do it for me, please.” 

“___”, Taehyung moans, chasing you. Your lips are almost touching, you share the same air. He is looking at your mouth, right hand dropping to his cock. 

You moan with him as he begins touching himself. Your hips stutter on Yoongi’s thigh, your pussy throbs and leaks. Yoongi basks in the view with a dirty smirk, massaging your hips and waist with his strong, masculine hands. 

“She likes this, pretty boy. Her cunt is so wet on my thigh. Keep touching yourself”, he purrs.

Taehyung croaks your name, lips claiming yours in a kiss. He can’t bear it any other way. Yoongi was right. Taehyung jerked off to the fantasy of you too many times to count. He really, really tried not to, but his mind betrayed him sometimes. He touched himself, thinking about how it would be to kiss you, to touch you and be touched in return, to experience pleasure with you and be with you naked. 

He has all of it right now and Taehyung is in heaven. He pumps his cock very slowly, despite wanting to go fast. He has to go slow however, otherwise he would climax way too soon. This is his dream and it excites him way too much. 

You break the kiss, overwhelmed by your own heaven. Your foreheads rest together, it hasn't been long but you are both a little sweaty already. 

“Tae, this is…”

“I know, it is…heaven, you’re heaven.” 

“No, you are. Ah Tae, your cock.” 

Taehyung looks down at what you see, moaning deeply. His cock is flushed and hardened, leaking onto his long fingers as he massages it quickly. 

“You’re so sexy, oh god, Tae your cock is so sexy”, you mewl, sliding your hands to his hair to twist bundles of it.

“Ah, I can’t”, Taehyung gasps, having to stop. “When you’re watching me, I just. I can’t handle it.”

“Your cock is throbbing.”

“___ please, you’re not making it easier”, Taehyung laughs breathily.

You straighten up, looking over your shoulder. Yoongi locks eyes with you. Dark marks have appeared on his features, pulsing like a slow heartbeat. This must be the sign that he is feeding on your energies. 

“What do you want, pretty girl?” he asks in a terribly seductive voice.

“Help him last longer, please.” 

Yoongi smirks. He snaps his fingers, letting a bottle of lube appear out of a cloud of red smoke. He throws it at Taehyung, who catches it. 

“She wanted help. this is it. Get on your knees and show her how you fuck your own asshole. Don’t touch your cock unless I tell you to.” 

You shake on Yoongi’s thigh, giving him needy puppy eyes. He purrs, smiling darkly. He inches closer to you, inhaling through his mouth with deep rumbles in his chest. They aren’t human, clearly signs of your delicious pleasure coursing through him.

“Don’t waste time. Just the mention of it makes her taste heavenly.” 

“Yoongi”, you mewl, writhing in embarrassment. He purrs and holds your hips to guide them for now. 

“Be a good girl and look at him. I know you want to.” 

You obey his order gladly. The view which meets you there almost makes you regret turning around. Not because it is awful, but because it is so sexy that you have to lift your hips in order not to orgasm. Yoongi supports you, panting heavily from the sweet scents meeting his nose. So delicious, you taste so delicious. Your cunt keeps dripping on him. How delicious.

Taehyung is already kneeling, sticking his ass into the air and having two fingers buried inside. He pumps them in and out in a smooth rhythm, whimpering softly each time he bottoms out. 

Not in your wildest dreams could you have ever imagined that this view would be your reality one day. His fingers are long and skinny, but seem so thick in his hole. He is tanner around his rim than the rest of his body, but whenever he pulls his digits out and his hole moves around them, pink skin is revealed. 

“Holy fuck, Tae”, you get out, dropping on Yoongi’s thigh to get off to the view. You dig your nails into his leather pants, face scrunching in bliss. Each movement is electric, reaching every inch of your body. “Holy fuck, you are so hot. Baby, does this feel good?” 

“Yes, feels so good”, Taehyung whimpers, voice surprisingly high-pitched for his normally baritone timbre.

“Keep doing that, you’re doing so good.” 

Taehyung mewls your name, ass pressing back onto his fingers. This is everything he ever wished for. He spills tears onto the rug, curling his toes. This is his dream. 

You suddenly feel lips on your shoulder and strong hands cradling your tits. Shivering, you lean into Yoongi, closing your eyes halfway. 

“You’ve got a dominant side in you, don’t you? Good girl, you struck me as someone like that from the very beginning”, he rasps, rubbing your nipples slowly.

“Fuck”, you croak, leaning back into him. You can’t really grind on him like this, but it is for the best. You would orgasm way too soon if you kept going. His magic touch and the view of Taehyung are simply too powerful of a combination.

Yoongi purrs, letting you rest against his big, muscular body. He loves how small you are on his lap. Humans are so tiny and fragile in comparison to demons. Yoongi really gets off to the size imbalance, especially when it’s such a delicious feed as you and Taehyung. 

He wraps his strong arm around you, tracing your stomach and playing with your pubes while his other hand plays with your tits. 

“Do you like this, pretty girl?” he asks you in a purr.

“So much. Every touch…”

“Turns you on more. I know, that’s what I do to you”, he rasps and shifts his eyes to Taehyung. “I'll let you in on one of his little secrets, yeah?” he whispers.

You nod your head.

“Go ahead, Taehyung. Play with your cock.”

“Fuck. Yes”, Taehyung gets out and pulls his fingers free. His hole gapes slightly, looking so empty. 

Taehyung closes his lubed up fingers around his balls, spreading it on them messily. Once he is happy with the feel of it, he takes them and does the unthinkable thing of putting them up his own ass. 

“What the fuck?” you get out. 

“___”, Taehyung moans, pushing in the second one as well. He seems to struggle at first before his fragile hole gives up and takes it. The skin of his balls is stretched, his rim is pulsing and his hips are pushing back. 

“What the fuck? Taehyung you- oh my god, holy fuck.” 

“Isn’t this marvellous? This isn’t the first time he stuffs his own balls up his asshole. He thought about it for minutes. What does this do to you, pretty girl?” Yoongi taunts.

“I have to cum”, you croak, spilling tears. 

“She has to cum. Do you hear that, pretty boy? Your little self fuck is making your best friend cum.” 

“___”, Taehyung moans, jerking off his cock as his balls get squeezed in his tight, pulsing ass. The sensations are orgasmic, making his legs shake and head turn. 

“Taehyung”, you whimper, legs shaking as well and head dizzy beyond repair. Yoongi slides his fingers to your clit and rubs it. You squeal, arching your back. This was too much. He breaks you for the first time this evening. 

“Good girl, scream for me. Good girl”, Yoongi talks you through it, head pounding from the intense feed. How sweet your orgasm tastes, how much it nourishes him. He feels greedy for more. He will make you orgasm again. He just decided. He cannot miss out on more of this power. 

Taehyung begins begging as he realises what happens. 

“Please I have to cum too. Please can I cum please?” 

“Tell us what you fantasize about most and I’ll let you cum.”

“Eating her out! Please, I have to cum please”, Taehyung blurts out, arching his back. 

You sob softly, twitching on Yoongi’s thigh. Your orgasm died down but nothing changed. Yoongi works his magic on you and you are his sexual prisoner. You don’t feel any ounce of satisfaction from your high, on the contrary, you want another one and another one and, and, and. Please.

“Can you see that? She likes it. Mhm pretty girl, do you like that?” 

“Yes, like it please.”

“Good”, Yoongi stands up with you in his arms. He denies you of another orgasm like this, ignoring the whines you let out for the sake of lying you down on the floor. 

Taehyung watches it happen, hand still around his cock because he is confused. He tugs his balls out of his hole, eyes glued to your body as it gets shoved around by Yoongi.

Yoongi grabs your legs, spreading them forcefully. He purrs, eyes flickering at the view of your wet cunt.

“Do it. Show her what you want to do most.” 

Taehyung obeys, scrambling to your side. He exchanges places with Yoongi and gets on all fours. 

“I just…this is a dream”, he says, gazing at your puffy, wet lips. You are so turned on that the normally translucent excitement almost took on a slight white and creamy texture to it. Taehyung wants to taste every droplet of it. 

“Tae please”, you whimper, opening your legs further.

“I will treat you so right from now on, my baby. Holy fuck”, he croaks and lowers himself to your cunt. 

“Tae!” You scream up, arching your back and gripping his hair. It is ridiculous but you orgasm with the first lick. 

Taehyung wants to stop and look, but Yoongi doesn’t let him. He places his hand over yours and pushes his head down.

“Don’t slack”, he orders, voice dark and demonic from the feed he is experiencing. “Keep fucking going no matter what.” 

Taehyung mewls, spilling tears. He wraps his arms around your thighs, hands rubbing your sides, and obeys Yoongi’s orders. He uses his entire mouth to please you, tongue kissing your pulsing cunt as if it was his life’s purpose to do so. And right now it was. 

He dreamt about giving you head so many times that he stopped counting. Sometimes when you were at his place and you watched a movie with your legs on his couch, he imagined how it would be like to lie down between them and pleasure you as you watched the movie. He fantasised about warming your clit with his mouth, fantasised tongue fucking your hole, fantasised about tasting every inch of you.

And now it is his reality and he loves it so much that he tears up. Your thighs are shaking, your hips keep bucking up and your fingers twist his hair. You also taste like heaven. Sweet, intense, perfect. Taehyung slurps and gurgles, drinking your heavenly nectar with deep moans and happy mewls.

“This feels so good, oh god”, you get out between having to moan and having to gasp for air.

It has been a while since you felt a mouth on your pussy. Casual sex just didn’t do it for you and so you stopped seeking it. So this right now is your paradise. Out of all the things, you missed getting head the most. Getting head from Taehyung? The very reason why you currently exists. 

His lips are soft and warm, rubbing over your sensitive spots as much as they suck on them. His tongue is even softer and warmer and so fucking wet, tracing your pussy and licking every single inch. He uses the flat of it as he worships your lips and uses the tip of it as he fucks your hole. For your clit, he uses a mixture of his tip and the flat of it, following it up with a suck and purrs around it. 

Now that you had this first exciting orgasm behind you, you can really savour every second of it. Granted, it is still insanely difficult not to climax again. 

“Tae, I love this so much, Tae”, you moan, floating on bliss. 

Taehyung mewls, looking up at you. Your head is rolled to the side, giving him a view of your blissed out expression. Your eyes are closed, your lips are parted, your brows tightened. 

“He thinks that you’re beautiful right now”, Yoongi tells you. 

Taehyung mewls in agreement, nodding his head.

“Tae”, you whimper, writhing in pleasure. Your pussy throbs in his mouth, feeding him more of your sweet nectar. 

“She wants you to play with her tits.”

Taehyung obeys, reaching up to cradle your breasts and massage them.

“Ah!” you arch your back, hands slipping from his hair to instead drop next to your head and ball to fists. 

Taehyung moans, having to close his eyes. This is too exciting. Your soft breasts are like heaven in his hands. He massages them as gently as possible, moving especially tenderly around your nipples. 

You react in throbs of your pussy and arches of your back, moaning so sweetly he feels high on you. 

“Good boy, keep doing that”, Yoongi praises, giving his back a kiss before he abandons his side to fulfil his wish. 

Taehyung has been thinking it so loudly that Yoongi almost smacked the back of his head. He opens his pants and pulls it down far enough so his heavy cock would be free. He prepares it with a thick layer of lube. 

“For the future, you don’t have to scream your fantasies at me. I can hear you just right”, he hisses and punishes him by pushing his cock into his tight hole. Not that this is a real punishment, this is exactly what Taehyung wanted. 

The latter falls forward, moaning into your pussy with such enthusiasm that you have to lift your head to check.

“Holy fuck”, you croak, gawking in disbelief. 

Taehyung’s neck is bend in a weird way as his face is smothered in your pussy. His hips are held up by Yoongi forcing him to keep kneeling as he very clearly drills his cock into his ass.

He smiles at you darkly, flashing you his fangs this way. Taehyung shakes and writhes with each thrust, bruising your breasts accidentally from needing to hold something. He mewls so much, mouth sucking on your clit more than he does anything else. As if he needs to soothe himself.

“Are you-”

“-hurting him? Of course not, pretty girl. I can make myself fit in the tightest hole without pain.”

“Are you using magic?” 

“What do you think?” he asks and pulls Taehyung’s up by his hair. His back arches, you get a view of his messy face and the utter bliss on it. He thrusts into him, forcing a scream out of him. “Does this look like he is in pain?” Yoongi taunts, making Taehyung scream with each hard thrust.

“No”, you whimper, trying to rub your legs together for stimulation. 

Yoongi notices, smiling darkly. 

“Good girl, you don’t have to scream your thoughts to get them heard”, he says and picks up Taehyung easily. He never stops bouncing him on his cock even as he changes position. He falls down next to you, lifting Taehyung off his cock to turn him. 

“Yoongi, your cock”, you gasp.

It is long and thick and looks more like a big butt toy than a real cock. He has five engorged segments going from small to huge. 

“I’m simply shaping it to how he wants it to feel. Seems like your pretty friend wants to be fucked by a huge textured cock”, Yoongi rasps and sinks Taehyung down on it. 

It is insane how easily he takes his massive cock. One by one the swollen segments disappear in Taehyung and he seems to moan louder and louder with each. Once Yoongi bottoms out, you swear that Taehyung seems as if he reached enlightenment. His eyes are rolled back, his head tilted and his mouth agape. Yoongi helps him stay in this state by lifting and sinking his body, fucking him like this. It forces his cock to bounce and slap his own tummy repeatedly, spreading the wet mess he leaks everywhere.

“Do you like this? Do you like seeing him like this?” Yoongi rasps, looking at you. 

You are so close like this that you can smell his sweet breath. He is actually so beautiful for a demon. His features are so delicate and pretty and insanely addicting to look at. 

“I like it so much.” 

“Mhm, you’re such a pretty girl”, Yoongi rasps, “go ahead, I heard your wish.” 

“Thank you, oh god”, you croak and scramble to your knees.

“Although, being called someone with a pretty face is a new for me”, Yoongi chuckles, fixing his head so you can sit on his face.

You mewl in acknowledgement, gasping a second later when Yoongi pulls you down on his long tongue. You look at where he holds you, moaning in surprise when two pairs of arms greet you. One pair is busy bouncing Taehyung on his cock, while the other is busy holding you down on his face. 

“Holy fuck.”

Yoongi chuckles knowingly, scrambling your thoughts a second later with his tongue. 

You scream up, matching Taehyung’s volume. The next moments are unable to be brought onto paper because they are unable to stay in your minds anyway. All you and Taehyung know is that you feel pleasure like you have never felt before. It is normally easy to talk during sex, even in the most passionate of scenes, but as you share Yoongi, you truly can't talk. The only thing wanting to leave your throats are screams and moans and sobs. Neither of you has experienced such pleasure before and soon you find yourselves holding each other as Yoongi ruins you from below.

You swear that you already orgasmed twice on his tongue and you can’t stop doing it. He is a lot hotter than Taehyung and so much wetter. His spit is clearly magical, seeping deep into your skin and making you feel as if you are high. He also seems to be everywhere at once. You feel him on your clit, your lips, your hole, your g-spot and even tickling your cervix. And it happens at the same time, constantly. It feels so good that you almost want to flee and yet you can’t because you crave more and more and more of his touch.  

Taehyung feels just as ruined. From the moment Yoongi entered him, he lost all control over his body. He is so huge and long and yet doesn’t hurt. Not even when he forcefully claimed his small hole, did he hurt. He felt like heaven from the very beginning and this heaven seems to grow more and more the longer he bounces him on his cock. Taehyung doesn’t know how many times he already orgasmed, but he can’t stop. He is so filled up, so stretched out, so fucked. Each of Yoongi’s swollen segments stuffs him more and increases the pleasure. His prostate stopped being the only sensitive part as Yoongi’s leaking slit spreads his magical juice on his walls and turns them as sensitive as his prostate. Perhaps even more sensitive. Taehyung truly feels his textured cock everywhere and he swears he might never recover.

“Yoongi, I have to- I think I have to- to pee”, you finally get out, digging your nails into Taehyung’s back as you hold him close.

“Me too! Me too!” Taehyung screams into your shoulder, shaking uncontrollably. 

Yoongi merely growls and holds you tighter, forcing you and Taehyung to orgasm so hard that you piss yourselves. Yoongi shoots his heavy load up Taehyung’s ass from the sweet taste of your combined sexual energies, growling into your cunt demonically.

He knows from the way you and Taehyung writhe afterwards that his job is complete. You are pleased beyond repair. He lifts you and Taehyung off of him and carries you to the couch. He lies you down in a way so that your leaking holes would drip on the floor and not the cushions. You are both gaping, although Taehyung definitely takes the crown. The view pleases Yoongi a great deal. He did a good job.

“Breathe and hold each other until you feel better.” 

You and Taehyung cuddle each other, shivering in a good way. It feels so good to be with each other after such intense sex.

Yoongi pets your heads, using all four hands for it.

“You both did well.” 

He straightens up, crossing his four arms in front of his big chest. He snaps his fingers, making a table of food and water appear.

“Try to hydrate and eat something once you can move again. Talk about tonight, I heard it helps mortals bond.”

You and Taehyung mewl softly, drooling on each other. Yoongi studies the ruined states of you.

“I did good. I was thorough”, he says and nods his head, “my job here is done. I won’t ask you if you liked it because I know you did.” 

He turns his back to you and walks to the candle circle. 

“You will feel stronger and healthier in the days to come because I filled you with my nectar. Use it to fuck each other, it will feel better to you. Or don’t fuck and talk, mortals are so emotional how disgusting. Just fuck, seriously, it’s more fun.”

He steps inside the circle. 

“Yoongi”, you croak, eyes barely wanting to open. 

He looks over his shoulder, “yes, pretty girl?” 

“Can we see you again?” 

He smiles wickedly. The candles burn brightly, somewhere far away a bell tolls. His wicked smile grows. 

“In your dreams”, Yoongi hisses and disappears. 

You and Taehyung both know that this wasn’t meant as an insult, but a promise. You just made a deal with the fucking devil.

[procrazedfan]

Fanmily

Minnie Mae Murderface was the kind of gal who didn’t let anything stand in her way. Whether it was running from Johnny Law for blowing up illegal explosives in a swamp, drinking booze to numb the back pain, or outright diving in the lake to noodle for a catfish dinner, she never hesitated on any decision she made. The way she saw it, it was a waste of time hemming and hawing. It was better to take action than to sit around and wait to ask for permission. For right or wrong, at least something would be done.

That was probably why she didn’t hesitate to put in a little somethin’ extra in her Pa’s beer before she gave it to him.

Or why she didn’t look back when she crawled out the back window of the broken screen of Daddy’s trailer with nothing but her usual overalls, sneakers and tool kit.

Or why she didn’t stop walking when the sun rose again over the horizon of the ten-mile marker on the road.

All she knew was that she had better get free or die trying. Cause it was either that, or she'd have to go back to Pa.

Granted, he was alright for a Pa. He was nice enough to let her keep wearing overalls and play with the other boys her age when she was a youngin'. Taught her how to fix the truck, along with HVAC units, and all other things that would need fixing at the trailer or the junkyard. They even watched NASCAR together on Sundays.

It wasn’t until that preacher fella done come by their little ol’ nowhere town of Mount Pantera that her Pa went crazy. Suddenly, he’d gotten funny about what she should wear, was told to do less “men’s work” and more “women’s work”. Even the NASCAR on Sunday went away in favor of hearing that same preacher man on the pulpit.

If that was the only thing he was trying to change she could have tolerated it.

Trying to ignore the growing pain in her lower back, and took a swig out of the bottle of beer that she saved for herself for the trip.

The question was...where was she gonna go now?

Her Ma was buried six feet under, not that she remembered much of her. Her aunts and uncles nearby would just turn her back in to her Pa as soon as they could. And the rest of her extended family was Lord Knows where.

She chewed her red hair from her right pigtail, trying to think of a solution. It was a shame she didn’t have her fiddle on hand. That was useful for thinkin’. But she reckoned she had to travel light on an occasion such as this.

Minnie tried recalling any relatives that were out there in the world, far away from the quaint little ol’ town of Mount Pantera. The only place she knew her whole life. Who was at that family reunion last year?

A beat up car in the parking lot of the diner she was walking by had been blasting some kinda music she never heard of.

The rhythm was...heavy. The sound of the drums were consistent, and the sound of the guitars were low, like a war song for a march. The singer must’ve had a frog in his throat, because she could barely make out the words from the sound of his growling.

"Hungry and tired the frigid plain yields little

  We trudge on further, eating pride and snow that's brittle

  We ride

 We ride"

She grinned a little to herself with her tooth gap showing, imagining what it would be like if she had a horse to ride out of town on instead of her own mismatched feet.

-That was “The Lost Vikings” a Dethklok Classic, stay tuned to 5184MTL for metal hits old and new -

Where had she heard of Dethklok befo- her hazel eyes widened in revelation as she slapped her knee. It was Cousin Willy’s band! She remembered Granny Murderface braggin’ about it after she had one too many beers at the reunion last year.

Everyone called her Granny on account that she was the Murderface clan’s oldest living matriarch. And when she put her foot down, that meant her word was law, even though she retired to Florida some years back.

If anyone could get her out of this situation, it was Granny Murderface, she was sure of it.

Minnie Mae walked through the doors of Flotsam and Jetsam’s Diner with a spring in her step and a wrench in her hand.

“Got anything need fixin’ round here for a plate and a phonecall?”

[usafphantom2]

USAAF disaster over Friedrichshafen

18th March 1944: A dramatic account of being under attack 20,000 feet over Germany as the 392nd Bomb Group loses half its planes

A heavily damaged 392nd plane stays in formation later in the war. Consolidated B-24's of the 392nd Bomb Group over Salsbergen, Germany. 16 February 1945.

O March 1944 the USAAF were out again for another daylight raid on Germany. Every effort was being made to knock out as much of Germany's aircraft industry as possible in the run up to D-Day.

'Big Week' - when the 8th Air Force had put on maximum effort - had come and gone. The USAAF 392nd Bomber Group had won a Unit Citation then. For most of the crews it made little difference, they had more missions to complete before their tour of duty was over.

This time they flew out passing the snows of the Alps in bright sunshine and then swung round to begin their bomb run from a position over Lake Constance, which was a deep blue marker 20,000 feet below them.

The target was the Friedrichshafen and they fully expected to be able to bomb the Manzell Air Armaments factory accurately in these conditions. Then, as they approached the target, the 392nd Bomb Group was hit by some very accurate flak, which damaged several planes and disrupted their bombing. More trouble was to come as they turned for home.

Vernon Baumgart1, now a retired colonel, remembers:

I remember that we had hardly taken stock of our situation when the waist gunner called: Fighters at 3 o'clock!" There they were, a whole "gaggle" of them; ten to twelve in close formation, paralleling our course about a half mile on our right -and climbing. I got on the radio and began calling for friendly fighters.

Just like the "book" said, they climbed up to a one o'clock high position into the sun about two miles out, made a wing-over turn in unison and dived at us with guns blazing. It was a fearful sight but was over in a few seconds as they dived through our formation. Of course, all of our nose and top turrets responded with long bursts from their twin 50-caliber guns.

@WW2today via X

[impishmisconception901]

Welcome To My Ramblings

Hi, I am ImpishMisconception.

I am 37 years old, just had my birthday on September 1st. I am single and I don't have any children. I live in Toronto Ontario Canada.

I don't work, I live on ODSP (disability) as my only source of income.

My pronouns are she/her and they/them. (These pronouns may change and I will update them if need be as I continue discovering myself.)

I am a Cis female and for now identify as Cis female (which may change or may not, I do not know right now.)

I am Asexual and Bi-romantic. (This is subject to change as I learn more about myself, I maybe Bisexual or Panromantic or Pansexual. I don't know right now.)

I have Autism, Dyspraxia, Dyscalculia, Depression, Anxiety, and Vertigo.

I was homeschooled by Christian (Protestant) Conservative parents and indoctrinated into Christianity.

I am now an Atheist and have been for about four years now.

My hobbies are going for walks, reading, playing hidden object games, playing Mahjong, playing The Sims, listening to music, daydreaming, watching YouTube videos, watching movies, and watching reruns of the TV shows Granada's Sherlock Holmes starring Jeremy Brett, Mash, Friends, The Big Bang Theory, and Star Trek TNG.

As for what kind of books I like, well here is a list of my top ten favourite books.

Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte

Pride And Prejudice by Jane Austen

Ella Enchanted by Gail Carson Levine

The Phantom Of The Opera by Gaston Leroux

Gone With The Wind by Margaret Mitchell

Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte

Around The World In 80 Days by Jules Verne

Philosophy for Dummies by Tom Morris

A Tale Of Two Cities by Charles Dickens

The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald

I also love reading Shakespeare and the original Sherlock Holmes mysteries by Sir Author Conan Doyle.

(The above book list is subject to change as I read more books.)

As for what music I like, I am on Spotify so feel free to click and follow to see what music I listen to - https://open.spotify.com/user/1o69jk1m6k59cilaskhlziw19?si=7c4e116e5e274735

As for the movies I like, I love musicals, comedies and romance and romcoms are my addiction. I also am a huge fan of Disney/Pixar movies.

Here is a list of my top ten favourite movies.

The Phantom Of The Opera 1929, 1990, and 2004 versions. (Yes, I know the 1990 version is a miniseries but I am counting it as a movie for this list.)

Pride And Prejudice 2005 version.

The Princess Bride

Ever After

Gone With The Wind

The Lake House

A League Of Their Own

Monty Python's The Holy Grail and The Life Of Brian

Airplane

The Devil Wears Prada

List of my top ten favourite Disney. (All the Disney movies I list are the original versions, none of the live-action remakes.)

Dumbo

Sleeping Beauty

Beauty And The Beast

Aladdin

Snow White And The Seven Dwarfs

Mary Poppins

The Sword In The Stone

The Jungle Book

The Emporer's New Groove

Mulan

Here are my top ten favourite movies that are honourable mentions.

The Sound Of Music

Dead Poet's Society

Good Morning Vietnam

You've Got Mail

Four Weddings And A Funeral

French Kiss

The Adventures Of Robin Hood

The Cutting Edge

Titanic

Mrs.Doubtfire

Here are my top ten favourite Disney movies that are honourable mentions. (Again originals, no live-action remakes.)

The Rescuers Down Under

The Little Mermaid

The Lion King

Robin Hood

Cinderella

Pocahontas

Alice In Wonderland

Pinnochio

Tangled

The Aristocats

I am also a fan of Disney/Pixar movies and here is a list of my top five favourite Disney/Pixar movies. (All originals no live-action remakes. Sorry there aren't ten, I haven't seen that many Disney/Pixar movies. )

Toy Story

Inside Out

Wall-E

Finding Nemo

Cars

Here are some other children's movies I enjoy that aren't Disney/Pixar

The Wizard Of Oz

Madeline Lost In Paris

Hook

Willy Wonka And The Chocolate Factory

Shrek

Happy Feet

Jumanji

Here is a list of my top ten favourite Halloween movies.

Beetlejuice

Ghostbusters 1984 version

Hocus Pocus 1993 version

The Nightmare Before Christmas

The Rocky Horror Picture Show

Young Frankenstein

Dracula 1931 version

Dr.Jekyll And Mr.Hyde 1931 version

The Addams Family 1991 version

Hotel Transylvania movie series

I also enjoy the whole Halloweentown movie series and both Twitches movies.

Here is a list of my top ten favourite Christmas movies.

A Christmas Carol 1951 version

White Christmas

Miracle On 34th Street 1947 version

National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation

Scrooged

The Santa Clause

Polar Express

Christmas With The Kranks

It's A Wonderful Life

Mickey's Once Upon A Christmas

(The above movie lists are subject to change as I watch more movies.)

So, that's about me, which is what this blog will be about.

I will just ramble on about whatever whenever. I make no promises about how often I will update the blog. I will just ramble on about whatever I am thinking or feeling or whatever whenever the mood hits me.

I am also on Reddit so feel free to follow me there if you want to - https://www.reddit.com/user/ImpishMisconception/

I am on YouTube but I don't make videos, I just watch stuff but feel free to follow me there as well if you want to - https://www.youtube.com/@impishmisconception7762/featured

If there's anything else you want to know about me, please ask.

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

Vampy come down for family dinner and help clean up like he wasn’t just defiling their daughter 10 minutes ago

Harry would rail the fuck out of her in her closet with one hand over her mouth and another around her throat, grunting absolute filth into her ear as she spills over him with muffled whines and sobbed pleas. He’d lick her clean, pull her panties and leggings back up her quaking thighs, and proceed to buckle his slacks casually while she props herself against the wall, trembling and panting.

He just leans forward and presses a chaste kiss between her sweaty brows, her skin sticky against his lips as he murmurs smugly. “I’m gonna go finish cleaning up the kitchen with your mum. Come back down after you’ve sorted yourself out, and don’t forget to wipe your makeup off. It’s smeared down your face.”

Y/N does as he says, wiping the watery steaks of mascara off her cheeks and fixing her wild hair, making sure to leave no evidence of their little escapade, lest Harry end up sleeping outside on the yard. When she finally gets back down to her living room (she takes the stairs extra carefully, her belly throbbing with each step), the vampire is sitting in the rocking chair next to her mother’s, swaying lightly as they chat away nonchalantly.

They’re laughing and gossiping, their hands occupied with all types of yarn and needles, and she always forgets that Harry had learned how to knit when he was younger. It’s so baffling to see him engaging innocently with her mom, his nimble fingers expertly working on a multicolored scarf as he does so, not sparing the piece the slightest glance due to how confident he is in his skills. The reason it’s especially startling is because those fingers had been inside her not even five minutes ago.

“So we were running around this lake near my house,” Harry explains candidly, clearly in the middle of telling a story from his past as his digits weave in and out amidst red and purple yarn, “and we were playing in the snow near the banks, which was our first mistake. My mother had told me that the snow around the shores tended to be really slushy, so if we weren’t careful, we’d end up slipping really easily. We didn’t listen, of course— what ten year old does? We were playing tag with the neighbors, and as I was chasing after Gemma, I accidentally shoved her a bit too hard and she slipped and fell right into a pile of muddy snow. Completely stained everything she was wearing.”

Her mom releases a disappointed hiss, giving him a sympathetic glance over the glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. “Poor thing.”

Harry nods in agreement, looping yarn over his needles as he extends the scarf over his lap for more space, continuing his labor. “My mum grounded me for a week, and I spent that entire time learning to knit so I could remake Gemma’s mittens, since I was the one that ruined them. It was a fair punishment, honestly, and I ended up liking it more than I thought. Plus, the mittens I made were way better than the original pair. You just can’t buy this type of talent anywhere.”

The older woman laughs boisterously at his self-absorbed joke, which results in Harry smiling to himself proudly, giggling along.

Y/N clears her throat softly, leaning against the archway that leads into the room and crossing her arms over her chest in a relaxed manner, quirking an eyebrow at both of them as she makes her presence known. “Having fun?”

Harry glimpses over at her, his eyes raking down her body to where she’s clasping her thighs tightly, irises gleaming with knowing condescension. “Loads.”

“Harry was just telling me about when he learned to knit!” Y/N’s mother chirps, sending a warm smile towards the boy sitting across from her, unaware of the fact that he’d been defiling her daughter not too long ago. “It’s not often that you find a young man with this type of interest. He’s a keeper, sweetheart.”

“Hear that?” The immortal gloats teasingly, wagging his brows playfully as he holds up his unfinished accessory. “I’m a keeper.”

“Mm.” His girlfriend hums sarcastically, rolling her eyes towards the ceiling to avoid giving him any satisfaction. “I bet you’re just loving all this praise, aren’t you?”

Harry whistles lowly, tutting in a chastising fashion. “Someone’s jealous.”

Y/N rectifies her posture, an appalled expression cracking over her features. “Am not!”

“Are to.”

“Am not.”

“Are to.” Harry insists doggedly, looking over at the older woman for support. “Isn’t she?”

Her mom studies her for a moment, clicking her tongue scoldingly. “I think maybe you are, honey. Just a bit.”

Harry cranes his head back towards Y/N, sticking his tongue out mockingly behind the woman’s back and scrunching up his face comically, flaunting his childish point.

“Plus, Harry was sweet enough to make you that scarf he’s working on. You should be more grateful.”

Harry softens his eyes dramatically, sugaring his voice into a honeyed drawl that only she can read through. “Yeah, Y/N. I’m going out of my way to make you this nice gift, and that’s the thanks I get?”

“Dickhead.” The girl grumbles pettily, shifting on her feet as she glowers at him.

Her mother glares at her accusingly. “Language! I taught you better than that!”

“Mm. You should be more careful with what you say; words hurt more than you know.” Harry tacks on with a snide grin, shrugging his brows daringly as he slips an innuendo into his next line. “Mouthing off like that could get you into a whole lot of trouble.”

The pit of her tummy throbs at his curtained challenge, her eyes narrowing as she bites back the urge to curse him out again. “Thanks for the moral advice, Aristotle, but I’m grown enough to face the consequences of my own actions.”

Harry slowly puts down his knitting needles onto the small table beside him, picking up the scarf laying across his thighs and rolling it out in its entirety. It’s now that she realizes the item is much too thin width-wise to be scarf— it looks more like a belt, similar to the strap used to tie off a robe. The vampire flickers his gaze over to Y/N’s mom to make sure she’s not watching, and once he sees the lady is once again preoccupied with her knitting, he trains his attention back onto his partner.

He lifts the long colorful band up to his neck, tying one end around his throat loosely and wrapping the excess length around his knuckles, giving the article a symbolic tug. Y/N’s cheeks burst with heat at the crude reenactment, suddenly coming to terms with what he’s actually created under the guise of a harmless statement piece: it’s a makeshift collar.

Harry watches her avidly, a sinister smirk carving his dimples into place once he sees she’d understood his implication. He yanks the leash from around his neck swiftly before he gets caught, rolling the material back up neatly to disguise it. He cocks his head to the side conceitedly, his accent slathered with the same amount of arrogance as his gesture. “You never know, dove. Sometimes the consequences might be too much for you to handle.”

[onouwu]

Witch Heart Hunter

From far away, the low din of celebration from the residential area made its way through the large windows of a bare loft, a typically empty unsold apartment. Sounds of people about to welcome the new year melded with the ringing of car alarms and the manufactured happiness of radio pop. A bright shaft of moonlight shone through the overhead skylight, illuminating the brick interior and pristine hardwood floor where a pale brunette trespasser lies in a revealing blue dress with her wide brim hat covering her face, waiting. Time seemed to stop as Daisy laid on her back absorbing the sounds and vibrations of the city around her. Her heart thrummed in anticipation. Goosebumps raised on her bare skin at the thought of what was to come.

“I’m ho~oome!” Crystal announced, always heard before she was seen. Short blue-silver haired with a devilish smile like a fallen angel. Her frame was lithe and frail compared to Daisy’s taller stature and defined curves.  She materialized through a portal that appeared by their front door, revealing a beast of endless glowing blue tendrils on the other side before fading away into shadow. Looking up from her position on the floor, Daisy lifted the brim of her hat and gave her hungry look.

“Do you hear that?” Daisy sat up and cocked her head towards the city lights.

“Yes!” Crystal said “It’s like they’re begging to be taken,”

“Mmmh, I hope some do, the willing are fun to play with” Daisy let out “It’s been so long since we last feasted. We’d best be careful not to get overwhelmed”

Crystal laughed it off “You know, the hungrier I get, the stronger I am. Just guard the outside while I take my half and leave you the others, okay?”

Daisy just smirked as she got up “I’ll be counting”

The new year party goers were surrounded on three sides by towering evergreens, and to the north of their clearing was a partially frozen lake. A group of eight sat by the lakeshore, drinking beers, and listening to the radio for the countdown. A loner stood away from them on the ice, looking up at the moon and hugging himself for warmth. On a wooden log next to a crackling campfire, a couple sat kissing passionately. Scarves, gloves, and a white brassiere hung from the branches next to them like exotic flowers in the moonlight.

Daisy perched on a branch in the treetops, Crystal sat next to her, her excitement radiating off her as she peered into the crowd. And so, the pair sat and watched, waiting for midnight to strike when the group would converge. It was then that the witches would feed. “Get ready to say hello to the new year, folks! It’s currently 11:59!” The group hollered in response to the jovial radio host. “If you’re listening right now, I wish you good health, happiness, and safe travels home. We’ll leave it to the city timepiece to count us down. We’re signing off for the holidays! As always, stay safe. Stay inside.” To this, several of the group scoffed.

Crystal elbowed Daisy in the rib, interrupting her observation. She looked beside her to see Crystal, thighs straddling the branch they were on and swinging her legs without a care in the world.

“Hey Daisy, make it snow will ‘ya?”

With a bit of a laugh Daisy’s eyes fell shut and her right hand waved in the air with a bright blue glow. High above the treetops, a cloud swirled and grew. Soon, snowflakes fell to the ground above the opening.

“Hey check it out!” The partygoers oohed and aahed, momentarily distracted by the sudden snowfall. No one seemed to notice that it was only in their clearing that snow fell. As if on cue, their heads shot to the side as the first of many fireworks exploded in the distance. “Ten! Nine! Eight—” The group gathered around the campfire, bottles in hand. “Seven! Six!” The lovers finally separated. “Five! Four!” The loner slowly made his way to the group, avoiding the couple. “Three!” The snow fell harder. “Two!” The fireworks came faster. “One!” Crystal and Daisy stood. “HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

A sound like an explosion rang in their ears. The snowfall had evolved into a storm. A wall of ice sprung up from the ground, blocking the city skyline with what looked like a jagged translucent glacier encircling them. They began to realize the trap they had fallen into much too late.

These walls were soon dotted with portals to another realm where slippery glowing tendrils shot out and grabbed their helpless victims.

“All this energy is going to feed us for days!” Crystal cried out.

Daisy couldn’t think. All she could hear was the sound of the humans wailing and the ecstasy of feeding. She was drawn into the uproar by its momentum. It was hard for her to resist immediately draining the life from these trapped humans, but she walked along the ice wall to scout the area for any alerted human forces. Sure enough, it didn’t take long before she saw a bespectacled woman with dark skin in camos and a black tank top. Her long curly hair a crimson red and her eyes display an unsettling calm when looking at the witch’s trap.

Daisy heeded caution, but she could see from the well-developed physique of this woman that there was a lot of life in her that shouldn’t go to waste. She quickly raised her hand and formed a snowy tornado around her that instantly hardened into a cone of solid frosty ice.

“Ohh what a catch” Daisy let out as she slid down the ice tower and began walking toward the woman who stood eerily still despite her situation. Daisy took the cue however and didn’t get too close before she froze the woman’s feet to the ground.

“You’re full of delicious energy. What’s your name, sweetie?” Daisy let out joyfully as she felt the intense energy radiating off this woman – more than any human she has ever seen.

“Name’s Hilda, dead witch… I want you to scream it loud before I crush your throat” The woman let out. In an incredible display of strength, Hilda slammed her fists against the wall of ice and smashed a hole into it within a second.

Daisy’s heart jumped from seeing such a superhuman display of power, reminiscent of the witch hunters of old. She decided to quickly end it, and summoned sharp spears of ice beneath the woman to skewer her. However, as the ice shot up like a rocket, the woman freed her feet and moved from over the forming pillar, using it as leverage to leap toward Daisy.

Terror filled Daisy’s hungry eyes as Hilda landed within a few feet of her. Daisy could only form a flat wall before her and flee while giving herself a moment to figure out how to handle this mysteriously strong person. Daisy quickly summoned a blizzard behind her as she ran to gain more distance, but all she could hear was the cracking of the ice as soon as it formed. Every step she took those behind her felt closer. Her poor lungs started to wheeze while her heart slammed in her throat, filling her ears with its frantic thrumming.

She turned around to summon another barrier but was met with a heart-stopping gaze inches from her face and a deep agonizing pain in the pit of her stomach. the woman’s fist had just buried itself into her core and robbed her of what little breath she had.

Daisy dropped to her knees, clutching at her chest with one hand, croaking hoarsely as she gasped for air and heaved. This was a blow like she had never felt before. As she lay on the forest floor weak and breathless, she felt utterly helpless. She could only wonder what the woman had in store for her after that.

In her winded state, Daisy managed to roll onto her burning and aching stomach. She desperately clawed at the frozen earth.

“You’re pathetic.” A boot harshly turned her over onto her back. Daisy could only see the sadism shining through this woman’s cold and heartless gaze before she stomped on the pale bare flesh of Daisy’s midsection.

Daisy tried to curl into the fetal position but Hilda shoved her boot in harder, crushing her organs under the hard thick rubber of her boot.

Hilda knelt down and Sat on Daisy’s hips, the relief of that shoe leaving her body wouldn’t hast long before she felt a calloused hand wrapping around her throat and squeezing mercilessly

“Haahkk- aahk—" Daisy let out in a desperate plea for air, grabbing and forming icy shackles around Hilda’s arm. A bright blue glow came from her hands and the ice pushed upward to lift the hand. Despite the intense cold, the determined soldier doubled down her grip. The ice cracking, shards falling on Daisy’s body as her efforts proved futile.

“I hope you all make it this easy. Just give up so I can cut your heart out and add it to my trophy wall” Hearing that makes Daisy’s heart slam against her ribs as if trying to escape its fate, but while Hilda’s hand cuts off the vital route of blood to her brain, its efforts only hastened the end of her precious oxygen supply. Her vision blurred as drool overflowed from her lips. The thick blue veins in her neck standing on end, her purple face and throat bulging, looking as if her head would pop like a grape while she struggled to free herself.

“You know what… I can’t wait for that.” Hilda pulled out a knife, Daisy squirmed beneath the woman with all her might at the sight of the glossy silver blade, but to no avail. The last-ditch effort only brought a smile to Hilda’s face in its futility as her cold steel pressed against Daisy’s breathlessly squirming chest.

Daisy’s gaze rested upon that vengeful piercing stare as her vision faded, feeling the knife bite her skin. Despite her efforts to cling to consciousness and her frantic pleas to her eldritch patron, her body quickly calmed and succumbed to its fate. She could only lie there breathlessly while the cold blade slowly descended into her chest and inched closer to her pounding heart.

“Daaaaaayyyseeee, it’s dinner time” Crystal called out.

Crystal waited for a few seconds before getting impatient. She decided to see for herself what was going on and leapt up to a tentacle which she sat on as it towered above the icy wall “Ugh, don’t tell me you’re not sharing the-“ Crystal watched in complete shock as she saw Someone sitting on Daisy’s unconscious body, continuing to strangle her while slipping a knife beneath her ribs. That shock turned to a hot rage quickly before she lifted her staff and summoned a portal behind the woman

THWACK- massive and slick tendril sent the woman flying a few feet away from Daisy.

The woman let out a “GAH” as she bounced off the ground once and rolled to a stop on her stomach. Ignoring this, she raised her head and looked back to where she stood a moment before. A translucent blue tentacle undulated, its base emerging from a portal near Daisy’s supine body and its tip stroking her neck, another wrapped around the blade which twitched to the beat of the frantic organ writhing against its tip.

“Tsk, tsk. Oh, Daisy. I thought I taught you to last longer than that? Disappointing.” Crystal let out while Hilda looked up at her.

“Hello there! Who might you be, and how did you manage to do that?” Crystal pointed at Daisy.

“You’ll see” Hilda replied

“My friend Daisy back there is a bit of a lightweight, I admit. But still, I’ve never met a non-magical person who could do such a thing.” Crystal planted her staff on the ground and put her crossed arms on top of it. She perched her chin atop a forearm as she leaned against her staff, looking at Hilda with a pixieish smile. “Comeon… What’s your deal? I’d love to know before I… well, you know.”

Hilda, now on her feet, shot a death glare at Crystal. “Oh, you’ll find out what my deal is. Firsthand.”

“Dangerous and snappy! I love it.” Crystal said

Hilda took off and charged the witch where she stood. Crystal ripped her staff from the ground and held it out to her side as Hilda closed the distance between them. The redhead’s fist cut through the air like a bullet, inches away from Crystal’s neck but stopped short as she fell to the ground. She looked back to see a large tendril gripping her leg and pulling her back to the portal from where it came.

“Keep going, show me what you got, sweetie!” Crystal said while more slithered out from the portal and grabbed the woman’s body, slick and wet as they coiled around her limbs and slid down to her wrists and ankles

“Ngh!” A grunt of effort escaped as she struggled against them until she calmed down and let the witch close in. Crystal stood up against the bound woman.

“Looks like you were about to take my friends heart. If you want a witch’s heart so much, here…” Crystal grabbed Hilda’s hand gently and pressed it to her own chest. Her excited heart pounding into Hilda’s palm.

“You have mine already.” Crystal smiled

Hilda ripped her hand from Crystal’s body as disgust filled her eyes. Crystal’s own expression filled with disappointment

“Come on, don’t be so cruel… to yourself! It’s your last moment, don’t you think you should let yourself enjoy it?” Crystal said as she wrapped her arms around Hilda in a tight hug, closing her eyes to feel the nonverbal exchange between their pounding hearts, Crystal’s excitement and Hilda’s rage fueling eachother in every exasperated beat. The life in this woman made her drool, a powerful energy she had never felt before, all hers for the taking. A treat that must be savored. Hilda’s muscular body squirmed against her and moves her delicate and flimsy body around like nothing, held back only by the power of her spell.

After about a minute the captive woman stopped resisting, to Crystal’s disappointment.

“Mmmm, time to-“ Crystal opened her eyes to see Hilda staring down at her with a wicked smile. As she reached for her staff she felt the woman’s hand holding it, the tendril that was binding her wrist ending in a fleshy pulp.

“hey, give me that” Crystal let out as she backed off from arm’s length. The tendrils left Hilda’s body to Crystal’s horror, showing just how faithful her demonic deity was to her as it obeyed its new vessel.

Crystal’s heart sank, her legs began to shake as she weighed her options and held her composure.

“You think I need that? We speak telepathically, and you can’t understand the language of ancient Gods”

“Your guard dog speaks just fine… Nothing’s going to be quite as satisfying as what I am about to do to you now” Hilda let out as she raised the staff above her head. Crystal’s composure dropped and she fell back reflexively, crawling up to run, only to be tripped by a familiar slimy appendage. She frantically pulled at it to no avail

“What are you doing, stop!” she said to the demonic being, though she was met with silence.

Hilda approached with a grin from ear to ear. Crystal couldn’t stop herself from struggling in vain, putting on a pathetic show for her assailant. As Hilda closed in, Crystal puts her hand in front of her face. Hilda grabbed her wrist roughly and pulled her up. The staff glowed in Hilda’s hand and Crystal felt a warmth on her chest.

“Come on, you wanted to have some fun didn’t you?” Hilda let out, stabbing the staff in the ground beside her and grabbing the top of Crystal’s blouse, ripping it open and baring her naked body. Confused, Crystal looked down, her eyes widened at the sight -- her chest covered in the runes of a small portal into her body. The space inside the circle disappeared and Hilda’s hand reached in.

“Ahhh! Wait, wait!” Crystal cried out as she felt an intense pressure in her chest, the thrumming in her ears and body ceased.

Hilda grinned “You wanted to give me this? What a pathetic thing, I don’t even want it… now go ahead, do something, your arms are free.” Hilda let out harshly, sending a new explosion of agony through Crystal’s chest, radiating outward into her weary body while the woman’s fingers sank into the meat of her helplessly squirming life. As her fate set in, she stopped short of giving Hilda the satisfaction of token resistance for as long as she can.

“What a great stress relief, crushing a wretched witch’s heart” Hilda says with a twisted sense of amusement. Crystal remained silent, looking up and spitting in Hilda’s face.

“Come on, bitch, do something fun” Intense waves of unbearable pressure consumed Crystal as Hilda harshly pumped her heart.

“AHK!! Please!” Crystal let out, caving easily as she flailed and tried digging her fingernails into the intruding arm with all her might -- a smile cracking the frustrated frown on Hilda’s face. Crystal’s vision grew blurry, her head feeling light, but the cruel woman’s torment was fueled by her helpless struggling.

“I’d love to keep going but I need to finish what I started with your fri-“

Hilda’s words ended abruptly as a ball of solid ice slammed into the side of her head. When Hilda lets go and fell over unconscious, Crystal saw Daisy behind her, holding her own chest and panting heavily while forming an icy prison Hilda’s body

“Crystal… we need to be more careful” Daisy let out, sitting beside her partner, pulling her to her lap, watching over her while she took shallow labored breaths

Crystal couldn’t speak to tell Daisy how grateful she was to see her. As the portal on her chest closed, every heartbeat sent shockwaves through her body.

“Wh…what about her” Crystal mustered

“We’re going to study her… painfully. And figure out what this new power is.”

[imagine-lcorp]

Make You Feel My Love (One Shot)

MarvelsDC22 1K CELEBRATION!!!

Prompt

Person A falls through thin ice into sub zero water; person B rescues them and tries different remedies to prevent hypothermia.

A/N: Hello my dears!!! long time no see, but here I am once again and this time with a little piece celebrating my little rascal @marvelsdc22​ since she reached the wonderful follower count of 1K!!!!!! She’s awesome, amazing and so so great, so go follow!!! and please enjoy this little piece I wrote for her writing challenge (hope you enjoy it too lil rascal). So here it is, thank you all for your patience and let me know what you think! love y’all!!!

Lena Luthor x R//Word Count: 3, 515

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When you invited Lena to your little cabin in the woods, the last thing you expected was for her to actually accept the invitation.

Not that you didn't want her to come but, after you uttered such invitation, you had realized just how awkward and creepy it sounded. You had been quick to explain your little cabin was in fact located within a little compound, around a small lake other little cabins shared.

"I would love to." She had said after listening to your little rambling, with a little smile forming in her face as you tried not to blush too hard.

Now there you were, trying to open the now stuck wooden door of the shack.

It was an early morning during the late winter when you made the trip but it was colder than you had expected it to be. There had been a couple of snowstorms a few days back and everything around was covered in snow. Fortunately, the roads had been cleared of snow and you had no trouble reaching your place, but the cabin had also been covered by snow and icicles. The door was stuck by it all and you kept pushing with your shoulder, and hoping the inside of your cabin wasn't a complete mess inside.

"Need some help?" Lena's voice startled you for a moment.

You turned around, watching as she approached you with your bags in hand. You had told her you would go to help her with them as soon as you opened the door but it seemed you were taking a bit more than expected.

"It's alright." You struggled for a moment, feeling your shoulder ache as you tried pushing the door once more.

With that and a little grunt, the door opened and you smiled triumphantly as you looked back at Lena.

"Uh, welcome to my crib?" You shrugged and Lena chuckled.

"Thank you." She handed you your bags.

You took a quick look around, noticing the little dust particles dancing with the rays of sunlight.

"Sorry if it is a bit dusty inside. It's been a while since the last time I came."

"When was the last time?" She stepped in and observed the place were you were supposed to spend five days together.

There was a big sofa, with a couple of cushions and colorful blankets, placed in front of a little fireplace. A big Persian rug adorned the floor between them and the walls around had paintings hanging from them. She followed as you walked inside and placed your bags in the floor except for the big one.

"Almost a year." You said walking through a short hallway Lena noticed lead to the kitchen. She left her bags along with yours and followed you.

You opened the big bag and started to fill the couple of pantries with the groceries you had bought for the trip. Cans of food, bags of snacks, bottles of water, and some more.

"A year? Doesn't look like it." She went to your side and started to take a couple of items of her own, helping you put them in their place.

"Well, I lend it to my friends from time to time or rent it for the holidays."

"So, you let a lot of people in here?" Lena questioned with a raised brow. "Strangers?"

"Sometimes." You thought for a moment before leaving a couple of snacks back in the bag. Only then you realized you missed a safety protocol.

For the past couple of years, since you have known each other, you had known Lena to be very cautious about the places she frequented. She wanted to make sure no one around was in danger, including herself, and that everywhere she went had at least an emergency exit in case she needed one. She always worried about people.

Your cabin, however, was surrounded by miles and miles of woods, had a lake in the yard, and the neighbor next door was at least ten minutes away from you. There was no emergency exit and practically no one around to help you if you turned into someone's target. You were living in a place for terror movies, of course she was worried you let strangers inside.

"Uh, I should check if everything is okay."

"We can go check after we're done with this." Your heard Lena chuckle again. "Don't worry, (Y/N)."

"You sure? I mean, I could make a quick scan or-"

"(Y/N), really, I'm sure there are no hidden dangers here. I was a bit surprised you would let other people stay here."

"Oh, okay." You said taking the last couple of food cans and opening one of the pantries. "It's just that, if there's someone else here, I can keep the cabin in good shape."

"Instead of leaving it abandoned, you get some money from it, right?" Lena smiled. "Who would have thought you were an entrepreneur of your own."

"Well, I may have picked a few things from you." You finished putting everything in place and closed the pantries. "But I think I still should check around, make sure everything is in place, and then we could light the fireplace. How does that sound?"

"Fine by me." Lena nodded. "But we should light the fireplace first, I can't feel my fingers." She raised her hands, showing you how her fingertips were slowly turning purple.

You made a horrified face and quickly went to grab some matches. Thankfully, the last visitors you had were kind enough to restock your little woodpile and leave some fuel. In a matter of minutes, the living room was filled with the comforting warmth of the fire and you and Lena sat for a moment in the sofa getting used to it.

You talked for a moment, mostly you, about the things you could try while you were there, which were essentially hiking, chopping wood for the fire, leaning how to cook with little food, and spend your days close to the fire.

"I know there isn't much to do, but that's the idea. Peace and quiet for a few days." You said pulling your head back to rest it on the sofa.

"It may not be much but that's all I need. I was starting to feel suffocated with all that was happening." Lena looked sad for a moment before leaning and taking your hand in hers. "Thank you again for inviting me."

You tried not to blush at the contact, remind yourself you and Lena were friends, close friends now, that were in the middle of the woods, sharing a little cottage for a week. Just the two of you. Alone. Nothing extraordinary. Something friends did all the time.

"Yeah, anytime." You said smiling and even when Lena noticed the redness in your cheeks, knowing perfectly it wasn't because of the cold, she smiled too. "Should we check the house now?"

"Sure." She said and you both stood from your seats.

First you searched the living room, where nothing seemed out of the ordinary. You even remembered it being exactly that way since the last time you had been there. You moved then into the kitchen, although you had already filled the pantries with food and snacks, there wasn't much to look into. Next, there were a couple of rooms, placed behind the living room and the kitchen and separated by the hallway. There was a bed in each one and Lena was a bit disappointed when you told her you would have your own rooms.

"No need to share a bed." You laughed a bit awkwardly and moved to check under one of the beds.

"Alright." She replied with a small sigh that you could hear.

You would have wanted to ask what that sigh meant but thought best of it. "All clear."

"Good."

You stood and walked to the door. "Alright, so, uh, this is your room and I don't know, I still haven't showed you the lake so maybe we could go for a while after we unpack."

"Okay, I like how that sounds." Lena said meeting you at the door. She was a bit closer to you than you would have expected and you felt your heart skip a beat. "Let's go for our bags."

"Right." You moved to the side and walked with Lena to the main door, unaware of the grin that had formed in her face. You took your bags and headed back to your rooms.

An hour later, you were out of the cabin, walking through the dirt road that lead to the shore of the lake. You had to kick your way through the snow that had accumulated around but you managed. The lake itself was frozen, the blue and white of the surface contrasting with the clear blue sky and the dark brown trees. The light reflected on it, making everything around brighter. It reminded you a bit of Lena's smile.

"It looks beautiful." She said stopping near the shore.

"It is." You said while looking at her.

"I get why you like this place." She turned to look at you and you couldn't help but smile.

"It's a little piece of paradise." You said stepping near her. "And I gotta show you a little thing."

You started to walk past the shore of the lake into it frozen surface, waking a couple of yards away.

"(Y/N), what are doing?" She said worriedly.

"It's alright, the lake stays frozen until spring so I can show you a little something."

You bent down to clear some of the snow on the surface and smiled when you got a glimpse of the fishes that could still swim in the cold water. Every time you stayed in the cabin you tried to fish under the ice out of curiosity and stubbornness. Many locals tried it too and although you had never caught anything, it was fun to try anyways. Maybe this time, with Lena's help, you could actually catch something. So you had, in fact, another thing you could do during your little vacation.

"Show me what?" Lena raised her voice. She was still standing along the shore of the lake, unsure if it was safe to follow.

You were about to answer when you heard a loud crack under your feet and Lena watched with horror as multiple fissures made their way on the surface of the lake where you stood. It seemed you had miscalculated the resistance of the ice you were standing and now you were in trouble.

Just like the lake, you froze in place, trying to keep yourself calm. If you could move slowly and steady enough towards the shore, this would be nothing more than a little scare.

"(Y/N)." You could hear the worry and fear in Lena's voice as she approached the lake.

"I'm fine." You raised your hands, trying to keep them out of your body for some balance, and looked at Lena with a little smile, reassuring her as much as possible. "The ice is a little soft here so I'm gonna move to the shore."

You took a short step forward but instantly regretted it as the cracks expanded along the ice. You felt the panic raise in your chest.

"(Y/N), please don't move." Lena said looking equally scared. "I'm gonna get you out, okay? Don't move."

"I won't." You swallowed hard, taking a couple of deep breaths, filling the cold air with a warm mist.

Time seemed to stop for a moment as you tried to calm yourself and watched as Lena approached the edge of the lake. She was going walking towards you and you feared this would only worsen your situation but not just for you but for Lena too. If the ice could hold her weight then you had a chance to reach her and get out of the lake without further problem. However, if the ice kept cracking it would put the two of you in danger and falling into freezing waters was not something you wanted to happen on your first day of vacation.

Lena took the first step into the lake, slow and steady, testing the ice under her feet. She was looking down, making sure she wasn't stepping on some other cracks, and raised her eyes towards you from time to time to make sure you were still in place. She was a couple of steps away from you when you both heard a loud cracking.

There was a look in her face you had seen a couple of times before but never directed towards you, a mix of fear and worry that let you know you were in trouble. You felt the ice move, so subtle at first but then like a tremor under your feet, and you were about to jump to the other side when you were sucked into the frozen lake.

First you felt the pain, as if thousands and thousands of shards of glass were being thrown at your body in a second. Then you tried to take a deep breath, which only made everything worst. You tried to move your arms and legs, to swim out of there but you couldn't. You had no control over your body and after the initial pain you started to feel numb. You couldn't breathe, you couldn't move. The only thing you felt was cold.

Suddenly, as you still fought for air, you felt even colder, with the winter breeze hitting your already frozen face. You coughed the water in your mouth and tried opening your eyes. Beside you, a tall greenish figure was dragging and pulling you from towards the edge of the lake, grabbing you by the back of your winter jacket. Only when you reached land the figure moved you, placing you flat on the dirt and putting her hands under you. They carried you all the way back to your cabin and, even when you couldn't think, you wondered where Lena had gone and if she was okay.

"I'm fine, (Y/N), I'm here." You heard the green person say and you wondered why they sounded so much like Lena.

You still couldn't move, or feel, when Lena reached your cabin door. She knew you were barely aware of what was happening as she carried you inside and placed you on the rug. Using the weaponry in her Lexosuit, she reignited the dying fire of your fireplace and found herself in a little moment of panic as she watched you lay there, trembling and hugging yourself.

Of all the things she imagined could happen, Lena never thought that you falling into freezing cold water was one of them. She had to think quick and fast before the symptoms of hypothermia started to take a hold on you. Leaving to get some help was no option, even using her suit to take you to a hospital would take considerable time you didn't have. So she did the only few things she knew could help you.

She took off her Lexosuit, something easy as she had modified it with nanotechnology to appear and disappear as quick as possible, like she had done with Kara's suit to use in case of emergency, and ran to your rooms to get all the blankets she could. She even found a towel for you head and took it with her. She put them in front of the fire to warm them while she moved you once again to take your own clothes off. You were soaked and hadn't stopped trembling.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N), I have to take this off."

She removed every piece carefully off your stiff body, your jacket, your sweater, your shirt, your boots, your socks, your pants, leaving you in nothing but your underwear, and tried not to get distracted by your sudden bareness. This was not the way she had expected to see you like this the first time. She put your clothes aside and put the towel around your hair to help it dry.

You still hadn't opened your eyes by the time she had finished, and were a bit unsure of what was happening, but you didn't complain since you started to feel a bit of warm. Your brain seemed to get back to working as you realized Lena had placed some blankets over you.

"Y-you hav-ve a s-supers-suit." You said through clattering teeth.

Lena, who feared you might be losing consciousness, let out a relieved breath.

"I have." She started to take her clothes off too and kept talking to keep you awake. "What do you think?"

"I-it's c-cool." You replied.

"Thank you." Lena finished putting aside her last piece of clothing and moved down towards you.

You could feel the blankets being lifted and a sudden mass of warmth pulling itself closer to you. You tried opening your eyes and in a second you could feel your own temperature rise like a boiling kettle. Lena's face was a couple of inches away from you, the mass of warmth you had felt was her own body, her own semi-naked body.

"L-Lena?" You said and this time you were sure the trembling in your voice was not due to the cold this time. "W-what are y-you d-doing?"

"Sorry but we have to keep you warm, alright?" She moved her arms, wrapping herself around you. "We need to stay like this for a little while."

"Just a l-little?" The words left your mouth before you could think better.

"As long as it takes." Lena said with a serious tone. "I'm not leaving you, (Y/N), so we better get comfy."

"I already a-am." You replied.

"Good. Now, you need to stay awake."

"A-awake, yeah." You nodded, closing your and feeling Lena's nose rubbing gently against yours. You were incredibly close to each other.

"I'm serious, (Y/N). Don't fall asleep."

"I'm not." You assured her.

Watching as you couldn't keep your eyes open for too long, Lena decided it was best to at least keep you talking.

"How do you feel?" She asked.

"Cold." You said still shivering.

"Can you feel your toes and fingers?"

You tried moving them. "A b-bit, I think."

"Good. Can you feel this?" You felt Lena as she moved her arms so she could held your hands within hers.

The contrast between you two was abysmal, you felt like a block of ice against a heater. She radiated such warmth and you were grateful you were there with the smartest and kindest woman in the planet or you would have been swimming with the fish.

"Yeah, I can feel it." You said and noticed some of your tremors had stopped.

"Okay, can you feel this?" Lena moved her legs this time, covering yours.

"That too." You felt the chills at that.

"Okay, we're making progress."

"Sorry." You opened your eyes with a pained expression in them. "You shouldn't be worrying about me."

Lena was a bit taken aback by your declaration but reassured you as best as she could. "There's nothing to be sorry for, and as for worrying about you, well, I'll do it gladly every time."

"Every time?" It was your turn to be surprised by her response.

"Yes." She said looking into your eyes. "You may not have noticed but I do worry about you, (Y/N), a lot. Maybe more than I should."

"You do?" You didn't know if your brain had suffered some damage but this conversation was taking an unexpected turn. A great and wonderful unexpected turn you had never imagined was possible for you.

Lena wasn't sure either about where the conversation was going, for someone used to getting things on her own way, she was finding it difficult to express what she wanted you to know. She had accepted your invitation thinking, that if you could spend some time alone together, you would realize how much into you she was. Now, there you were, almost naked under all the blankets she had found in your cabin and trying to get you out of your hypothermia, and you still didn't realize how caring and protective she was towards you.

If that was the case, she had to make a more direct demonstration.

"Yes, (Y/N), I do." She moved one of your hands against her chest, placing your palm where you could feel the beating of her heart. "Can't you feel it?"

Your own heart skipped a bit as you felt her pulse in your hand and your whole body seemed to shiver and not because of the cold. You felt you heart burst with warmth and, as you looked at Lena, you could tell she felt it too. No fire could compare to what you were experiencing and you thought to yourself that, maybe, falling into sub-zero water wasn't so bad at all.

"Yeah, I can." You finally said with a little smile.

[scvrllet]

Eternity

“What crueler punishment is there than love?”

PAIRING: Regulus Black x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: Falling in-love was always scary, but falling in-love knowing there is an inevitable end is terrifying

WORD COUNT: 2.1k

WARNING(S): Mentions of death + brief mentions of grief, Immortal!Reader

AUTHORS NOTE: This has been sitting in my drafts for months ( back when i was an active hp writer and was primarily in said fandom) and finally decided to post it

JOIN MY TAGLIST - MARAUDERS MASTERLIST

Immortality may seem like a blessing to those who desire it but forget the burden those cursed with it must carry.

How long have you been alive to watch the world around you evolve? Watch as one Dark Wizard rose and fell only for another to take their place? Watch as those you loved died, leaving you to grieve for all of eternity but yet some dare say that it’s a gift? The answer; far too long.

If anything, it’s more of a curse than a gift. A cruel way of punishing others but not just them but their family as well.

Old magic was dangerous and masters of those forces were not to be messed with. Your family had learnt that the hard way many years ago. An old witch, who one of your past ancestors had wrongly messed with, put a curse on your family. Any and every daughter born into the (Y/L/N) family would be cursed with immortality, paying their ancestors debt for all of eternity. Perhaps this is where the term ‘old soul’ had come from. You thought to yourself once. It humored you at the time but barely anymore. All you wanted was for your soul to be at rest but due to that witch’s magic, that would never happen.

When your parents welcomed you into the world you would be cursed to live in forever, a part of them had hoped that the curse would have somehow skipped a generation but when they noticed your lack of physical aging as you grew up, the only thing they could do was spend as much time with you as possible, your father especially. His time was running out but not yours. It never would.

You’ve lived through many decades and met several people, most of whom were starting to leave your mind, being replaced by the new people you were always meeting. Friends in your opinion, were easily replaceable. Whether it be betrayal or death that causes a rift in the friendship, there was always another willing to fill that spot. This being said, it didn’t mean you never loved them because you did. You spilled all your secrets and thoughts into them and held them as death took them away from you. Oh how their souls were fortunate enough to be able to rest.

You remember listening to your aunts and grandmother talking about their past lovers as a little girl. When one had finally passed, they’d give themselves some time to grieve before hopping into a new relationship, allowing the cycle to repeat itself. They would’ve expected for you to follow in their footsteps given the curse and all but were quite surprised when decades, maybe even centuries had passed, and you were still in-love with that boy from 1976.

You smiled as you recalled the day. It was the day you realized you were falling in-love for the first and possibly the only time in your life. For a moment, that moment specifically, you forgot about your curse and what would result from it.

It was the third of December. Snow fell onto the white ground as a cool breeze turned your faces red. You were both supposed to be in Herbology class at the time, not by the Black Lake throwing snowballs at each other but

With a bit of help from your magic, you had sent at least ten snowballs in his direction. You laughed as it hit him in the face and the moment of you letting your guard down allowed for him to throw one right back at you.

Your face was cold and wet as you wiped the snow off your face. Narrowing your eyes at him, you noticed a sparkle in his grey eyes before another snowball hit you in the face.

“Reg I swear to God I will murder you.” You threatened as you wiped the snow off your face. Anybody else would’ve been scared and immediately apologized but he knew you like the back of his hand.

“Is that so love?” He teased knowing that nickname was always able to crack your façade. Glaring daggers at him, you hoped he wouldn’t notice how your face got warmer but he saw the corners of your lip twitch upwards a bit and that was all he needed to continue teasing you.

Waving your wand, a pile of snowballs appeared beside you and before Regulus could even say anything, they were all sent flying in his direction one by one. He sighed in relief when the last of the snowballs had been fired at him before using his wand to dry himself off.

When he was finally dry, he looked up at you and smirked before grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the Black Lake. It was frozen but you were absolutely terrified of the ice cracking and falling into the cold water. Just thinking about it sent shivers down your spine as he walked closer to the frozen lake.

“Do you trust me?” He turned around to ask you, standing at the edge of the frozen lake. Had this been someone else, you would’ve broken free of their grasp and run back to your dorm but he was different. You couldn’t explain why, but you felt safe around him. It was an odd feeling.

Simply nodding, he smiled before carefully stepping onto the ice. He laughed as he felt your grip on his arm tightened as the two of you walked further on the ice.

“Regulus what are we doing?” You questioned as he continued to lead you away from the shore.

“Ice-skating, I think. I’ve overheard my brother talk about doing it with his friends and figured I’d give it a try.” He replied with a shrug.

You abruptly stopped in your steps and arched a brow at him as you asked: “You’re telling me that we’re currently ice-skating?”

Regulus cocked his head to the side slightly. “Are we doing it wrong?”

“Ice-skating Reg, it’s in the name. We need skates.” You replied and a look of realization dawned on him. He knew that it felt odd for muggles to do this sport with normal footwear but he just hadn’t realized what he was missing.

“I was wondering why we weren’t going as graceful.” He said under his breath, causing you to chuckle. “Well, right or wrong, I think we’ve had enough ice-skating for today. Come on you must be freezing.”

He grabbed your arm again and started walking back towards the shore. A mistake in this action though was that he didn’t give you enough time to react before he was pulling your arm. This resulted in you losing your balance and slipping on the ice but thankfully, his fast reflexes had you balanced on both feet as Regulus held you by the waist.

“Are you alright?” The playful teasing expression had now been replaced by a wide eyed look of concern as he moved his hands to rest on your shoulders as if to further steady you. He searched your eyes for any sign telling him that you weren’t okay. Thankfully, there were none and he sighed in relief and pulled you into his chest.

Far too intoxicated in his scent, you hadn’t realized that you were shivering until he pointed it out and began to cautiously head back inside. Lightly tugging on your jacket, the two of you got off the ice and back onto the solid ground. As you walked back you couldn’t help but question that feeling you felt whenever you were with him.

It was the feeling you felt when you were having a snowball fight with him. The feeling you felt when he laughed and his eyes would light up. It was the feeling you felt when you were around him and what you felt when he caught you on the ice and looked at you. The moment that happened just a few seconds ago replayed in your mind and you doubt that it’d ever stop. It made you feel warm and safe, mortal even.

You didn’t even realize you were back inside until you heard a voice call out from down the hallway in front of you.

“Mr Black and Ms (Y/L/N) aren’t you supposed to be in Herbology?” It was McGonagall. Shit.

Turning the opposite way, the two of you ran down the hall and turned the corner towards the Dungeons. Teacher or not, you both doubted she would enter the Slytherin’s Common Room.

“Blimey Black, if I wanted to warm up I would’ve rather set myself on fire.” You huffed as you tried to catch your breath. “And how are you not out of breath? I feel like I’m dying.” You had just run nearly halfway across the castle and Regulus wasn’t gasping for air like you who was hunched over the couch, quite dramatically as well you might add.

The boy in front of you rolled his eyes at your exaggeration before sitting down on one of the couches and patting the seat beside him, gesturing for you to sit down beside him. With a flick of his wand, a fire was lit in the fireplace allowing both light and warmth to fill the dark Common Room the Slytherin’s had. You always wondered why Salazar decided to place the Common Room in the Dungeons out of all places. A tower would’ve been much nicer, warmer even, but it seems as his blueprint for Common Rooms was different compared to the other founders.

As you sat down beside him, he pulled you closer towards him so that you were resting on his chest as his arms were wrapped protectively around you. “Better?” He asked and smiled and you hummed in response.

His fingers were tangled in your hair as he hummed a song. That combined with the sound of the fire crackling in front of you were enough to pull you to sleep. When you woke up the next morning you were still in the Slytherin Common Room but the fire was now out and there was a blanket on top of you. You were also laying on something that was most definitely not the couch since you could feel arms loosely wrapped around your stomach.

Sitting up you noticed that the sun was just starting to rise but that wasn’t what shocked you. It was the fact that you had fallen asleep on top of Regulus and that he stayed there until he too fell asleep. He could’ve just left you on the couch to go to sleep or ask one of your friends to take you to your dorm so why did he stay?

“(Y/N)?” You heard him mumble groggily. Whipping your head around you saw Regulus still very much asleep, or at least he looked like he was. His eyes were still closed and his black curly locks were a mess, something he wouldn’t have accepted if he was awake. He was always thought to look presentable at all times.

Shrugging off your previous thoughts you smiled down at him and intertwined your fingers with his. “I’m here Reg.”

He stirred a bit and his grip on your hand became firmer before light snores were heard from him.

“What are you doing to me?” You mumbled as you pushed a few strands of hair off his face. It was that same feeling. That warm feeling that just made you yearn to be with him, it was back. This time much stronger but back nonetheless.

It took you awhile but you did realize what he was doing to you: he was making you fall for him. You didn’t know if it was intentionally or not but what you did know was that it was working.

You were falling in love and it was absolutely terrifying.

Despite your curse and the known outcome, Regulus treasured every single second he was able to share with you. The relationship lasted two years, ending a few months after you both graduated from Hogwarts due to his discovery upon Voldemort. Aside from Kreacher, you were the only person who knew the truth about Regulus Black and what happened to him. Not even his brother or parents knew what had happened to him but that’s how it would stay. The world wouldn’t know about the boy who died trying to right his wrongs.

After his passing though, you couldn’t bring yourself to move on. It didn’t feel right and with all the pain that came with it you doubted you’d ever allow yourself to fall in-love again.

So as years went by and the world continued to move on, you were stuck on that boy from 1976.

[dhwty-writes]

hi! I have a prompt, if you like: what if Geralt hangs up mistletoe to get Jaskier to kiss him? :)

ELLIE, what a galaxy brained concept! It’s so silly and the gay panic is rampant in this one, my friends. The Kaer Morons being a bumbling pack of idiots and Geralt ridiculously pining after Jaskier? Coming right up!

Summary: Geralt is in love with Jaskier. In order to finally get him to admit his feelings, he devises a ten step plan with Lambert, Eskel and Vesemir. 

Warnings: NONE, this is tooth-rotting fluff

Read on AO3

There was a conspiracy of the highest order brewing in the Continent involving no less than four witchers, their horses, a goat, and an unsuspecting bard. It is known under many names, including, but not limited to, Operation Home Sweet Home, Gods Save us from your Fucking Pining, and Get Vesemir's Blessing (and Mission Let's Get Geralt Laid, but that was from Lambert and therefore stupid).

They had laid out the Conspiracy in a set of carefully calculated steps last winter with the help of Vesemir's Wise Words and truly copious amounts of alcohol. Once he saw the whole list sober, Geralt had nearly chucked it into the fireplace out of mortification. Good thing Eskel and Lambert had been nearby to wrestle the slip of paper out of his hands.

Only after the creation of at least half a dozen copies was he trusted with it again. He frowned down at the sheet. It was simple, really. A simple ten-step-plan. He could do that.

Step One: Stop fucking staring out of windows and sighing longingly. (Shut up, Lambert.) Get back on the Path and find Jaskier.

Now, at least that was easy enough. Not for the first time since their acquaintance they had agreed upon a meeting place to come find each other as soon as the snows would allow it. Most of the years Geralt would arrive a little late; because even if they chose a spot closer to Kaer Morhen than Oxenfurt, the Killer was usually impassable for a long time.

A few years they had been lucky and could set out relatively early in spring. Geralt hadn't felt lucky at all, sitting in a lonely tavern corner day in, day out, waiting for a familiar bright-coloured bard to fill his life with light again. He had felt terrified, most of all.

So, this year when he set out to the Path, an already crumpled list clutched tightly in his hand, he was even more on edge than normally. He didn't think he could take Step One failing already, and the mortifying possibility of Jaskier lying dead in a ditch. He might just climb up that mountain again and never come back down.

Luckily, Geralt — and Vesemir — were saved from that miserable fate. When Geralt threw open the tavern door in some backwater Kaedwen town, Jaskier was there already. He was peacocking around in his usual manner, enticing his sparse audience with his captivating presence. When his eyes fell on Geralt, though, his three half-drunk spectators were soon forgotten.

The bard gasped and slung his lute onto his back, vaulting off the stage to come rushing over to him. "You're here!" Geralt stood ready, his arms spread wide to catch Jaskier when he flung himself at him in an overenthusiastic hug. "I missed you." Jaskier slung his legs around Geralt's hips and buried his face against his shoulder, clinging to him as if for dear life. 

Geralt held him tight, deeply inhaling the familiar scent, a mix of honey, grapes, and cinnamon. He was used to this by now. He didn't mind. Truth be told, he craved it.

"Hmm," he answered, acutely aware of the stares they were attracting. Geralt decided he didn't care. "I... missed you, too."

"You did?" Jaskier pulled back and beamed at him. Just a week ago he had thought he would kill to see that smile again as soon as possible.

"Hmm," he agreed. Now he knew he knew he would die for it.

Jaskier wriggled in his grasp as a sign he wanted to be put down again. "You certainly know how to sweep a man off his feet, darling," he announced with a cheerful wink. "I don't think you've ever told me you so much as enjoyed my company before, let alone miss it."

"Hmm." Hadn't he? He could've sworn he had.

"None of that, now, let me just grab my bag and we can be on our merry way." Without another word, Jaskier rushed up the stairs in the back of the tavern.

Geralt stood uncomfortably in the door, waiting for him to return and doing his best not to attract too much attention. 'Hurry up, Jaskier,' he thought impatiently.

"Oi!" the bartender shouted. "Yer the witcher? The one of the songs?"

"I am."

The man nodded and threw something at him, humming a very distinct tune. It was a ducat. Geralt pocketed it with a sigh. He hadn't missed that.

He didn't have to wait long before Jaskier came barrelling back down the stairs, a much too large bag Roach would have to carry again in tow. "Well," the bard straightened his crumpled doublet, which, for some reason, now gaped open and showed off the pristine shirt underneath. Geralt tried not to stare, "where are we off to?"

"Toussaint," he answered, holding the tavern door open for him.

"Toussaint!" Jaskier exclaimed excitedly. "I love Toussaint."

"Hmm," Geralt said. 'I know,' Geralt thought, 'that's why we're going.'

With their reunion out of the way, it was time to proceed with the plan:

Step Two: Travel with Jaskier. Be nice to him (no fillingless pies!)! Compliment him! Laugh at his jokes!

That part was significantly more difficult than the first. Not that he lacked compliments for Jaskier, quite on the contrary. They, however, posed not one, but two difficulties.

The first was one of his own making: voicing his thoughts with actual words. In the privacy of his mind he had a myriad of compliments. 'You're beautiful,' passed through his head when he saw Jaskier bathed in the golden light of sunset. 'You smell nice,' after a day at the coast, salt encrusting Jaskier's hair. 'You make me smile', 'You make the loneliness go away', 'You're the best bard I could wish for.' None of them were quite eager to leave his mouth.

When they finally did, it was awkward. They didn't sound at all how he imagined them. "What are you looking at?" Jaskier asked.

"Something on your face," he answered. 'Yeah,' he thought dumbly, 'sunlight.'

Or: "Geralt, are you sniffing me?"

"You smell." He still cursed himself months later for omitting the simple word 'nice'.

After a while he got better at it. He could manage an "I like your voice" without stumbling over it, or a "Your outfit looks nice and smooth." It wasn't an "I love listening to you sing and say my name; you make it sound like something that is worthy of affection" or an "I love that you wear silk as soft as your skin and could spend days caressing it without growing tired of it" yet, but he was getting there.

What came then, once he was able to say a simple nice sentence to his bard, was somehow even worse. Jaskier was clumsy, that was nothing new, but this season it was on a whole different level. Whenever Geralt so much asked him about the song he was working on, the bard stumbled over his own feet; with every smile or laugh he nearly dropped his precious lute.

But nothing beat that time they happened upon a particularly clear and blue lake and Geralt had leaned over to tell Jaskier: "I like it. It reminds me of your eyes. Just as pretty." The poet had nearly plummeted right into it, which would have been very unfortunate indeed, since he hadn't convinced the nymph living in it to migrate yet.

In the end, Jaskier's utter lack of equilibrium sense led to Geralt offering him to ride on Roach. That was much better. Sometimes they rode double, too. He liked those days especially, when he had an excuse to hold his bard close. The days when Jaskier would sigh and lean back into his touch he liked most of them all.

Slowly, they settled into a familiar rhythm. It was awkward at first, but soon they became used to the change of their relationship. And it wasn't as if everything changed. They still bickered and insulted each other, and laughed and told stories. It was just right; Geralt almost didn't notice how summer came to an end.

But it did, and when the first leaves started coasting to the ground it was time for the next step.

Step Three: Ask him where he will spend the next winter.

It was probably the most mortifying thing he had to say to Jaskier yet. They were sat at a campfire one early autumn evening, Geralt trying to look busy cleaning his sword and Jaskier preoccupied with his lute. Once he finally worked up the courage to ask, he stumbled over his words like a school boy; he even blushed, for fuck's sake! It was embarrassing.

Luckily, Jaskier didn't seem to notice, too busy tuning his lute. "Why, in Oxenfurt, of course. Why do you ask, Geralt?" he answered nonchalantly as if Geralt wasn't just leading the most daunting conversation of his entire life.

'Fucking great,' he thought. Now it was time for Step Three.5: Ask Jaskier to come home with you, you fucking idiot.

"Hm," he said.

Jaskier laughed. "Talkative as always I see." He smiled at him brightly and turned back to his lute. "Alright then. Keep your secrets."

"Hmm." This wasn't getting any easier. "Jaskier."

"Yes, dear?"

His heart fluttered with the pet name, so much that Geralt nearly bit his tongue off in the process of trying to voice his question: "Would you like to stay with me?"

The lute gave a dissonant twang that made both of them wince. "Excuse me, what?" Jaskier stammered, his voice much higher than normally.

"Hmm. I just thought..." He frowned. 'Shit.' He couldn't do it. He just couldn't. This had been doomed from the beginning. "Forget it, it's stupid."

"No, no, not at all!" Jaskier scrambled to his feet and hurried over to Geralt's side. "Where would we be staying? I suppose you could come to Oxenfurt with me, but it could get a bit crammed and-"

"Kaer Morhen," Geralt stated simply.

"Kaer Mo- oh!" His eyes lit up. "Why, yes, Geralt, I would love to stay with you."

And that was the end of that. They didn't talk about it anymore the whole evening as Geralt did his damnedest to forget the conversation had ever happened. But when he laid awake in the night, Jaskier huddled close to him — it was getting rather cold, after all — he couldn't stop his mind from whirling, excitement mixing with immobilising terror. Jaskier would come to Kaer Morhen with him. They would stay together the whole winter. And Jaskier would meet his family.

With a sigh he turned over, cautiously throwing an arm over Jaskier's waist and holding him like the precious thing he was. The smile that spread on Geralt's face when his bard snuggled even closer, outshone the morning sun creeping over the horizon.

The following days and weeks, Jaskier was buzzing with the same excited energy that Geralt held within. It cost him every ounce of self-control not to turn Roach around and head for Kaer Morhen right away. But it was still early in the autumn, at least a moon's turn before it was time to go home, so they busied themselves with taking contracts and performing for sub-par audiences.

It was alright. He needed the money, after all, if he wanted to cross off Step Four: Bring Jaskier back to Kaer Morhen in its entirety, including the note: Buy him some nice and warm clothes on the way - Vesemir

It was good advice, Geralt knew, as most of Vesemir's advice was. Jaskier might have travelled with a witcher for the better part of his life, but he was still only human. And winters were very cold in the northern Kaedwen mountains.

So, on Geralt's annual stop in Ard Carraigh, he took Jaskier to get him equipped with soft woollen sweaters and stockings, as well as a pair of sturdy boots, ignoring the bard's protests of how 'ugly' they were.

"You'll thank me when you've still got all your toes after this winter," he grumbled as he strapped Jaskier's bag to Roach's saddle.

After that, nothing much exciting followed. There were still a few villages and hamlets along the way to Kaer Morhen but the least of them had so much as a tavern. The ones with a real audience of Jaskier were fewer still.

Geralt couldn't say he didn't enjoy it. Quite the opposite, he loved listening to Jaskier in the privacy of their camp or — if they were lucky — the barn where they could stay the night. He loved knowing that Jaskier sang only for him. And most of all he loved the vibrant smiles he got along the way, and the tiny ones, too, etched on his face even when he curled up against the witcher at night.

During the days, Jaskier finally had to stop riding on Roach; the path was simply getting too dangerous. The way up to Kaer Morhen had never been easy, not even when there had been two dozen witchers and twice as many students living there, but since the attack they hadn't tended to it anymore. The Witcher's Trail was no easy one for humans — and it wasn't meant to be.

Jaskier, to his credit, didn't comment much on it, most of the time too exhausted or admiring to run his mouth about the difficulty of getting to Geralt's home. He was almost a bit worried, anxious even, if Jaskier's reaction to seeing the ancient ruin would just be the same kind of silent admiration.

Evidently, there had been no need. They rounded the last corner and, finally, Kaer Morhen was looming up above them. As soon as his eyes fell on it, Jaskier gasped and ran ahead. He had, apparently, forgotten about his aching limbs he had complained about just that morning. "Is that it?" he asked excitedly. "Geralt, is this it?"

"No, it's another crumbling fortress in the Kaedwen mountains," he deadpanned.

"You're mean," Jaskier accused him and turned back around to the keep. "For months I've dreamt of this moment and what do you do? You mock me, truly a horrible habit, that- oh, gods, Geralt, it's so beautiful!"

"Hmm," he answered, watching Jaskier intently. The childish glee on his face, the snowflakes dancing around him and melting in his hair. "I guess so."

"Can we go inside?"

Another barbed comment was already on the tip of his tongue, but Geralt guessed that he shouldn't ruin the moment. Not if Jaskier was so happy. "We can. Come on."

They were still a good distance away when the gates creaked open and three bulking figures stepped outside. "You're early," he accused Eskel and Lambert once they caught up to them. They weren't supposed to be there. They were messing up Step Five: Meet the family. (Lambert Eskel Lambert Vesemir first.)

"And you're impolite," Vesemir grumbled. "I taught you better, Geralt."

"Hmm," he answered and the silence that followed might've been awkward if not for Jaskier.

Thanks to him there was no silence at all, to be precise. "You must be Vesemir; Geralt told me so much about you. Dare I say, Master Witcher, I am honoured and humbled by the invitation, and am looking forward to my stay. The name's Jaskier and I am at your service," he concluded and bowed with a flourish.

The three witchers gaped at him in surprise and Geralt couldn't help but grin. No overly detailed stories by him could've possibly prepared them for... well, Jaskier. "What," Lambert muttered quietly, "the fuck?"

"Now, that's just rude," Jaskier said as he straightened himself, "don't you think? Geralt, your brother is being rude to me."

It was all he could do not to laugh freely. Instead he shrugged and said: "Told you he's the rude one."

"Oh, you're Lambert!" The bard grinned widely and stretched out his hand. "Nice to finally meet you."

Lambert huffed in surprise and shook the offered hand. "Tell you what, bard, I'm not sure if I should be flattered or offended."

"Offended," Geralt mumbled just as Eskel said: "Flattered."

Jaskier smiled widely and wickedly. "Both."

Lambert opened his mouth, presumably to return a rude comment, but Jaskier's attention was diverted by Eskel, who gave him a thorough once-over and then nodded. "Welcome to Kaer Morhen, bard."

"Thank you, uh, Eskel?" he hazarded a guess.

A smile tugged on the unscarred corner of his mouth. "That's right."

"Dinner's in an hour," Vesemir cut in. "Maybe you could show our guest to his room, Geralt?"

Right. With the meeting out of the way it was time for Step Six: Show him to his room (Make sure it has some nice fur rugs - Vesemir) (Shag him on the rug - Lambert) (Offer to stay with him if he's cold - Eskel). Both of those additions seemed equally daunting to him.

But before he could even think of an excuse as to why he couldn't do that right now, Roach's reins were ripped from his hands and they were being pushed towards the keep.

"Well, they're certainly eager to get rid of you, considering they haven't seen you for a year," Jaskier quipped once they were inside the keep proper.

"That's not- hmm." 'Fuck.' He had almost betrayed himself. "They'll be different after dinner," he promised. "Besides, you know they can hear you."

"So?" He huffed a laugh. "I know they're just like you; all bark and no bite."

He was about to deny that claim but Lambert's offended howl that reached him from the courtyard quickly changed his mind. That definitely was worth the jab at his own ego. "Come on," he urged, smiling, "no need to continue playing the jester for them any further."

"Why, is there any issue with providing entertainment for a living?" Jaskier teased.

"Only if it's at the expense of me."

He sighed dramatically. "That I know, my dear. That I know."

"Jaskier?"

"Yes?"

"Shut up, I'm trying to give you a tour of the keep."

"You are? Oh, I wouldn't have noticed." Geralt shot him a dirty look. Jaskier snickered maliciously, the bastard. "Oh, yeah, yep. Shutting up. Go ahead, Sir Witcher, show me your magnificent home."

From anyone else it might've been mockery. It might've been mockery from Jaskier, too, if not for the sound of absolute awe in his voice as he took in their surroundings.

Geralt could hardly blame him. It might've been a long time since he had arrived at Kaer Morhen, but he still remembered how dumbstruck he had been at the sheer immensity of the place that should become since home.

It had lost its mysticism since then, but seeing Jaskier's childlike wonder as he led him through the kitchens and great hall made him remember. He showed him the library, too, as well as the stairs down to the hot springs that he must never, ever confuse with those that led to the laboratories.

He closed with the rooms the various witchers claimed as their own: "That's Lambert's room down the hall, don't go there, he's a prick; Vesemir is a few floors below us, claims he's too old for our squabbles; that's mine, and that one's Eskel's, ask him if you need something and I'm not there, not Lambert, he's an arsehole-"

"Geralt," Jaskier said soothingly and put a hand on his arm, "you're rambling."

"Am I?" he asked confused. "Don't think so."

"There's no need to be nervous, dear. I won't abandon you; you're stuck with me for the winter."

"I'm not nervous," Geralt insisted, his fingers twitching nervously.

"Right," Jaskier took his hand away, evidently not very convinced. "I'm sorry for interrupting you, then."

"Don't be," he mumbled, not quite able to tear his gaze from Jaskier's gentle smile.

"Geralt?"

"Hm?"

"Do I-" He started fidgeting with his lute strap. "Do I have a room, too? I mean, not that I mind sharing with you, that's not the issue at all- gods, I sound stupid-"

His eyes still trained on Jaskier, he reached behind him and opened the door. "There."

"That's my room?" he asked without turning around to look inside.

"That's yours," Geralt confirmed. He had prepared it last winter already. Just in case.

As soon as the words had left his mouth, the poet whirled around and rushed into the sparsely furnished room. He looked very much... out of place. The realisation hit him like a slap in the face; but apparently the visual of Jaskier and his bright purple doublet in the grey empty walls of Kaer Morhen was what it took for him to realise how little they were reconcilable.

For the first time in his life he felt self-conscious for his home. "'S not much," Geralt mumbled.

"It's wonderful." Jaskier beamed, carefully inspecting the bed and the rug, peering out the window and into the chest. "Might get a bit cold, though."

He grumbled something he knew to be unintelligible to humans into his beard.

"What was that, love?"

"You could always stay with me," he spoke up. "Y'know. We've shared before."

"That we have! You might find that before long you will be forced to let me take you up on your generous offer."

"Hmm," Geralt answered and left him to it, in order to complete Step Six.5: No, let him arrive first, you idiot! There would be no 'being forced' of any kind, but he wasn't quite ready to admit that to Jaskier, yet.

Despite their apparent incompatibility Jaskier settled into the routine of Kaer Morhen disturbingly quickly. Though 'settle into' wasn't quite the right choice of words. More like 'tear it down and build it anew, but with lyrics, laughter, and luminosity'.

The evening of their arrival was truly mortifying, the worst mix of embarrassing stories of Geralt's childhood and very inappropriate questions directed at Jaskier. Geralt had spent the whole dinner frozen in shock and awe at the masterful display of the bard's craftsmanship.

After an hour of vicious cross-examination, the three witchers had finally backed off. And as Vesemir had retreated to his rooms, Lambert had brought up the alcohol. It hall had spiralled out of Geralt's control after that.

Within the hour Lambert and Jaskier were japing and jabbing at each other as if they were lifelong friends and not acquaintances since a few hours. It took his bard three days to have Vesemir completely wrapped around his finger, intently listening to his droning lectures about basically everything. And not even a fortnight into their stay, he found Jaskier and Eskel in the library, talking with hushed voices. He quickly retreated but not before he heard Jaskier telling his brother how beautiful he was, scars or no scars, and Eskel sniveled quietly.

A month since their arrival saw them trapped into the castle by the heavy snowfalls. Unfortunately, that didn't stop Vesemir from drilling them mercilessly.

They were an hour into their morning routine when they all perked at the sound of soft footsteps passing through the hall. "Jaskier," Geralt said softly.

The bard was bundled up in several quilts, his face barely visible beneath the mess of his hair and the blankets. Still his face lit up with the brightest smile when he saw them. "Mornin', lads," he croaked, "lookin' good, keep it up." He gave them a tired thumbs-up and shuffled off to the kitchen, where Vesemir would provide him with a hot breakfast with a side of 'most-boring-information-on-this-earth'. It was their own morning routine of sorts, and the three of them knew it wouldn't be long before they were discussing the 'merits of the iambic pentameter in 10th century love poetry' or some shit.

"Fuck," Lambert cursed once they knew Jaskier to be out of earshot, "I really can't blame you, Geralt. Too much time with him and I start gawking like a love-sick idiot, too."

"Hmm," Geralt agreed. Jaskier definitely had that effect.

"Jealous, wolf?" Eskel inquired with a knowing smile.

"No," he answered earnestly. If anything, he loved Jaskier more for it. His family wasn't easy to deal with, he knew. But his bard didn't care. He had so much affection to give, even for witchers. 'Especially for witchers.' He closed his eyes with a happy smile.

"Y'know, there's still a couple of steps left on our list," Eskel informed him casually.

Geralt's eyes snapped open as his heart sped up. 'Fuck.' The plan. "Hmm."

"Just fucking get it over with," Lambert yearned. "Your pining isn't any less obnoxious just because he's here."

"If anything, it's gotten worse," Eskel agreed.

"So?" he snapped. He had put it off, that was true. Had waited for the snow, he told himself, but now the snow was here and-

"So, we'll distract him this afternoon," Eskel interrupted his spiralling thoughts.

"And you pull your head outta your arse and fucking follow through," Lambert added.

"Fine," he ground out. "We do that." Not before he kicked both their arses during their training, though, for being such utter dicks.

Before long, however, the inevitable happened. Morning passed over to noon, and, true to their words, Lambert and Eskel whisked Jaskier away after lunch. They left Geralt behind in the hall with a branch in his hands and nothing left to do but complete Step Seven: Hang up a mistletoe.

"Fuck," he muttered. Nearly one year had passed since they had come up with their conspiracy. One year to gather his courage, one year to come up with a plan, one year to at least think about where to fucking put it. "Fuck," he said again, for good measure.

He looked around. Looked to the rafters. Looked at the mistletoe. "Fuck it," he declared and tucked it away to scale up to the rafters.

He was already up there, dangling from one of the beams when he remembered that he had nothing to secure it with besides the silky ribbon that would never fit around it. He scowled darkly. He sure as hell wouldn't climb down and up again. Without further ado he pulled his dagger from his belt and drove it deep into the wood, pinning the mistletoe by the ribbon.

He climbed down again, making sure that it was visible from the ground. 'Perfect,' he decreed. With the mistletoe in place, it was now time for Step Eight: Have Lambert and Eskel inform Jaskier of the mistletoe and a strategically placed Geralt. 

He spun around to go and alert his brothers, when he heard a cheerful voice behind him: "Geralt! There you are, you mean witcher, I was wondering where you were hiding. You know, it is not nice to leave your, uh- bedmate all alone and freezing in the morning, and- oh." There was a thoughtful pause. "Now would you look at that."

Geralt heaved a long sigh. He dreaded turning around, for he had a very distinct feeling he knew already what he would see. And fuck, he was not ready for that step. For some stupid reason, he still did turned around.

Jaskier stood in the middle of the hall, squinting up at the ceiling. "Are my eyes deceiving me — and they might be, mind you, my eyes are not as good as a witcher's — or is that a mistletoe I spy up there."

He cursed internally. He knew he should've hung it lower. "Hmm," he answered, his heart beating in his throat. Why was his heart beating in his throat? It wasn't supposed to do that. His voice was surprisingly calm when he said: "Seems like it."

"Oh no!" he moaned woefully. "Quick, Geralt, come here and lift the curse!"

"Curse?" he inquired bemusedly as his feet moved without his volition. "What curse, Jaskier?"

The bard gasped. "Don't you know? When someone passes beneath a mistletoe, they are frozen to the spot until the curse is broken."

"Hmm," he stepped under the mistletoe, too. He should've known Jaskier would make up a story around this. It was just a tradition, for fuck's sake, no curse. Although a curse was certainly more romantic, even he had to admit that. "Must be a rare curse if a witcher's never heard of it."

"The rarest," Jaskier insisted and pointed at his cheek. "It may only be broken with a true love's kiss."

In light of what happened next, let it be known that, in Geralt's defence, he was panicking. Quite thoroughly so. Since the Trials his legs hadn't shaken like that anymore.

He had been promised a pep talk by his brothers before having to confront the situation at hand. And yet they were nowhere to be found and Jaskier was here, evidently expecting him to kiss him.

'Shit. Fuck. Shit fuck.' He was not ready; he was not ready; he was not-

"Geralt?" Jaskier ripped him from his thoughts. "Are you waiting till my nose grows icicles, or what?"

Still, he leaned forward, placing one hand on Jaskier's hip and the other on his shoulder, and pecked him on the cheek.

The cheek. That had not been the plan. That had not been the plan at all. And then, of all things, he heard himself ask: "Can you move again?"

Jaskier blinked, looking just as dumbstruck as Geralt felt. "I- I think so?" he stammered and moved to pull away, blushing furiously.

'Fuck, no,' he remembered thinking. And while he wasn't quite in control of his limbs again, what he did next was probably the single most clever thing he had done in his entire life. Gingerly almost, he tightened his grip on Jaskier. His head tilted to the side, an invitation, an escape.

His bard didn't move. Instead, he said: "Doesn't seem like it."

"Hmm," Geralt answered and leaned in closer. "Difficult curse, seems like. Let me try again."

Before he could even think of changing his mind, Jaskier had his arms looped around Geralt's neck and crushed their lips together. He did his best to reciprocate the kiss, which wasn't easy with fear still gripping his heart tightly, but then Jaskier crowded closer, moulding his body against Geralt's and that was all it took for the tension to seep from his bones and go limb.

It was a weird sensation; being wrapped in Jaskier's arms was so familiar, but he was also kissing Jaskier, which was new- 'Great gods, I am kissing Jaskier, I am kissing Jaskier, I am-'

He pulled back with a triumphant grin, evidently startling his bard. "What?" he asked, very confused.

"I am kissing you," he announced, his grin widening even more.

Jaskier frowned. "That you are, but-"

"I am kissing you," he said again and pecked him on the lips. "And I can keep doing it."

"Oh!" The frown eased away, giving way to the softest of smiles. "That you can, my dear."

So, Geralt did. Again. And again. And again, and again, and again. He didn't know how many times he had kissed Jaskier, how many times Jaskier had kissed him, before he pulled back and blurted: "I love you."

Jaskier stared at him in silent awe, before blushing and cupping his cheeks gently. "That you do, my love," he whispered. "And I love you, too." Softly, he pressed their lips together again.

"You do?" Geralt asked disbelievingly.

Jaskier smirked. "I do. For years and years, I have. I thought you knew."

"Fuck," he muttered. Did that mean... 'I didn't have to do any of this.' He could've just- "I'm an idiot."

"Only sometimes," he allowed, giggling sillily. Geralt was compelled to join in. "Besides, you’re my idiot, and I love you for it." He shifted a little, so he could lean his head comfortably onto Geralt's shoulder despite them being nearly the same height. 

"So," Jaskier drawled, curling a strand of Geralt's hair around his finger, "are we just going to keep standing here, or...?"

He scoffed. Of course, they wouldn't. He had a plan, after all. "Fuck." The plan.

Jaskier raised his head. "Is that a curse or an answer?"

"Yes," he answered warily.

It earned him the most beautiful snorting laugh he had ever heard. "What are you cursing at, love?"

"We skipped Step Eight," he admitted, "got right to Step Nine."

"Excuse me, what?"

"Step Nine: Kiss Jaskier." The poet just gawked at him. "I had a list," he explained.

"You had?" Jaskier's eyes lit up and he made grabby hands. "Show me, show me!"

Reluctantly, Geralt handed it over, studying Jaskier's face carefully as he read through it.

"I knew it," Jaskier concluded finally.

"Huh?"

"Oh, come on!" He threw up his hands. "You were acting weird all year round, Geralt! Not that I'm complaining, mind you, but still, weird. It took me about ten minutes to figure out there was some ploy at play." He laughed quietly and waved the paper around. "Though I never would've guessed what was amiss."

"You don't like it."

"On the contrary! It's a wonderful plan," the poet said and pecked him on the lips. "I've got to admit, though, Lambert was right: you should've just fucked me on that rug once we got here."

"Hmmm." Geralt nuzzled against Jaskier's neck, holding him closer when he tried to squirm away from the tickling sensation. "That still an option?"

"Very much so. I believe it has to be one more step before completing your list." He pulled him close and whispered against his lips: "Take me to bed, my love"

And how could Geralt refuse such a request? Especially if it coincided so luckily with Step Ten.

[bisexualbumblebee-writes]

Cold- Will Graham x OC

Will Graham x Maya Moreno

Description: Maya accompanies Will to a murder investigation and gets a little more than she bargained for in the frozen lake by the crime scene. 

Word Count: 1.7k

It had been such a relaxing drive until Will got the call. The BAU had no cases at the moment, which meant that he could spend the day with his wife. He allowed her to choose what they would do. She chose to just take a nice drive through the countryside then get lunch, they could figure out the rest later. They’d only been driving when Will’s phone began ringing. He shot her an apologetic smile then answered it. Maya stared out the window as he talked, but she looked over when she heard him sigh frustratedly. 

“What is it?” She inquired as he hung up the phone and set it aside. 

“Jack needs my help on something.” 

“Will,” she groaned out, but he didn’t let her finish her sentence. 

“It’ll only be for a few minutes,” he reasoned quickly. “You don’t even have to get out of the car. I’ll be in and out. It’s not even out of our way, the scene is just a few minutes away.” Though initially hesitant, Maya finally agreed and allowed Will to make a right turn down a long dirt road. They reached a farmhouse just five minutes later, and they parked in front of the large red barn to the left of it. 

“In and out,” Will repeated reassuringly, pressing a kiss to his wife’s cheek before getting out. She nodded, then sighed in disappointment once he was out of sight. She didn’t think she’d ever get him away from his work. 

After ten minutes, Maya was bored. Her phone could only keep her entertained for so long, so she got out to stretch her legs. Upon looking around, she noticed a small lake on the other side of the barn. Curiosity got the best of her, and she made her way over to it, snow crunching under her feet. She cursed internally, wishing that she had brought a heavier jacket. She wasn’t expecting to be out for long today, so all she had was her cardigan sweater to keep her warm. 

After reaching the lake, she prepared to take a seat and admire the sun shining upon the ice that sat atop the water. But then something caught her eye, something in the ice. She leaned forward a bit to get a better look, and her eyes widened when she realized that there was something bloody in the water that had frozen in the ice, it looked like some sort of clothing.

“Hey Will,” she called loudly. “Get out here, I think I see something!” She leaned down and picked up a broken branch that was light enough to carry, but still heavy enough to break ice to get the potential clue. Taking a deep breath, she began trekking across the ice, hoping to the gods that she wouldn’t slip on it. 

“Maya, get back here!” Will demanded as he, Jack, Jimmy and Brian reached the edge of the lake. She turned around just enough to look at him. 

“I’ll be okay,” she called back. “I’m probably the only one light enough to walk on the ice. Besides, I’m almost there.” With that, she turned and continued walking. Will was ready to protest, but Jack stopped him, saying that she was right. Maya finally reached the bloody clothes and sighed with relief. She took a step back then began hitting the ice surrounding it. The clothes were freed a minute later, and she carefully picked it up, turning back to the guys and holding it up for them to see. 

“Great job Maya!” Jack called happily, which made the girl giggle. “Toss it here!” She obeyed, throwing it towards them. It landed by Brian’s feet, and he picked it up to examine it. 

“Get that to evidence,” Jack instructed, to which Brian nodded and headed back to the barn with Jimmy following him. Once they were out of sight, Jack and Will faced the girl again. 

“Alright, now get back over here. That ice is really thin,” Will instructed, attempting to hide his worry. Maya nodded, but just as she began to take her first step, she heard a loud crack shortly before she was suddenly surrounded by water. Instantly, pain flooded through her body as the freezing cold water began stabbing at her skin. A scream ripped from her throat, but that ended up being a mistake as her mouth filled with lake water. She tried to swim to the surface, but she found that her arms refused to move, seized by the pain. Her eyes began drooping as exhaustion began racing through her body. It felt like hours until her eyes finally closed, not being able to do anything else. 

“Maya!” Will shouted, panicking as he watched his wife submerge into the water. Immediately, he stripped himself of his jacket and prepared to run to her, but Jack stopped him. 

“We need to wait for reinforcements,” he informed the boy seriously. His warning was all for naught as when he turned around, Will took off, running to the hole that his wife had disappeared in and ignoring Jack’s yells for him. 

He dropped to his knees, looking into the water worriedly. Thankfully, Maya hadn’t floated away, but she wasn’t moving. Oh no. His hands shot into the lake, ignoring the feeling of the freezing water and focusing only on grabbing Maya’s sweater. As soon as his fingers grazed it, he gripped onto it tightly and tugged it upwards, bringing the girl with it. 

Will nearly cried in relief when his wife was finally back in his arms, and he began dragging her back to land. He could faintly hear Jack yelling at the others to call an ambulance, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about that as he ran to the barn, carefully laying her down on the dry ground. Beverly jumped to action immediately.

“Get her clothes off, the cold won’t do well with wet clothes,” she instructed quickly as she dropped to her knees beside them. Will nodded then allowed her to help him remove her clothes down to her underwear. 

“Alright, see if you can find a pulse. If not then you need to administer CPR immediately,” she continued, which prompted the man to nod once again. 

He put his ear to her mouth and nose while his eyes watched her chest breathing in an attempt to find a pulse. He counted to five, but there was no movement. He had to perform CPR. In order to expel the water, he plugged her nose as his mouth covered hers and gave her two rescue breaths, attempting to keep his breathing even. Nothing happened, so he started on chest compressions. His hands intertwined together and he rested them on her sternum, beginning to press down firmly. It took seventeen chest compressions before anything happened. 

Maya’s eyes shot open and she began coughing up water. Someone, she wasn’t quite sure who, sat her up and patted her back as she threw up any remaining water then gasped, her lungs frantic for air. A jacket was wrapped around her shoulders and she clung desperately to the person closest to her. 

“You’re okay,” Will’s soothing voice finally registered in her ears, sounding both relieved and shaky as his arms wrapped around her. “It’s okay, you’re okay,” he continually repeated as his hand ran up and down her back comfortingly. She couldn’t tell if he was trying to comfort her or himself, but it didn’t matter to her. She was trembling violently, and she allowed her eyes to glance over those who surrounded her. 

Beverly was on the left side of her with a hand on her back, though hers wasn’t moving like Will’s. She was keeping track of the girl’s heartbeats per minute. Brian, meanwhile, was laying a blanket on her that he had gotten from Will’s car as directed by the man himself. Jimmy was standing back, watching the entire ordeal anxiously, and Jack was waiting for the ambulance near their cars. 

They only had to wait another few minutes before they heard the telltale sirens approaching fast. The others moved away as paramedics rushed in, but Will kept his arms around her. Jack had to physically pry him away from her, telling him to let the medics do their jobs. The man could only watch helplessly as they moved her to the ambulance to gradually warm her up. After half an hour, Will was finally allowed to see her. He was led over to the ambulance, where Maya now sat with new, dry clothes and a shock blanket around her. He couldn’t help but smile when he realized her hair now had no ice in it and her lips were no longer blue. The girl grinned when she noticed him approaching. 

“Beverly had her go bag in the car, she let me borrow these,” she explained softly, messing with her shirt. Will nodded as he stopped in front of her. 

“How are you feeling?” He asked softly. 

“A little tired, but other than that, pretty warm considering how cold it is outside,” she shrugged, moving the blanket off her shoulders. “Can we go home yet?” The man couldn’t help but chuckle as he nodded. 

“Yeah, let’s go.” He held out an arm for her, which she comfortably went under after standing up. The two of them called a goodbye to the others before walking to the car and climbing in. They drove in silence all the way home, but once Will parked, he turned his body to face her. 

“I shouldn’t have gone there,” he muttered, looking guilty. “You got hurt while looking for a clue because I took us there.” 

“William David Graham, this is not your fault,” she retorted instantly. The firmness in her tone surprised him, but it wore off quickly when she continued. 

“You went there as a favor to Jack, and I got out of the car on my own accord. I wasn’t careful enough on the ice, you’re the one who saved me. If anything, you’re the hero today,” she concluded, leaving no room to argue as she took his hand. “What matters is that we’re both okay, and we’re both safe, right?” Will nodded hesitantly, which made her smile a bit. “Then what’s the problem?” 

“Nothing,” he responded after a moment, copying her grin. “Let’s get inside. I can make you some cocoa.”

“Now you’re speaking my language,” she giggled, leaning over to kiss his cheek before getting out. Will could only watch her for a moment, his smile widening just a bit. 

“Come on, slowpoke,” Maya called from the doorway. He wasted no time in turning off the car and jogging after her, leading her inside.

[thefinalcinderella]

Kaze ga Tsuyoku Fuiteiru Chapter 10 - Shooting Star (Part 1)

We finally made it...we’re in the endgame now...

Full list of translations here

Translation Notes

1. My Grandfather’s Clock is a popular song written by Henry Clay Work in 1876. The 2002 version by Ken Hirai was especially popular in Japan

Previous | Next

January 3rd, 5 a.m.

Yuki was in a dimly lit room in the Ashihara Ryokan. He changed into his Kansei University uniform and jersey and picked up his bench coat.

Two hours had already passed since Yuki woke up. After breakfast and a bath courtesy of the ryokan that took place at a time that could be better called late night, Yuki returned to the room where he had spent the night once the food in his stomach digested properly.

It was a night where he wasn’t sure if he had slept or not. However, his mind was clear and lucid. Excitement and tension became sharp blades that pared his body, and he felt somewhat light.

My energy is high, Yuki thought. He had felt the same way when he passed the bar exam. He read the questions for the essay exam and wrote his answer. It was almost funny how the meaning of the questions soaked into his brain, and before he could even think about how to answer them, the answer sheet was filled with words; it was just like automatic writing. He had never been able to output so smoothly what had been inputted into him until that moment, as though his consciousness had become clear and his sixth sense was working.

He knew that the same moment of elation and focus was about to visit his body and mind.

The return leg of the Hakone Ekiden started at 8 a.m. Yuki would slowly warm up over the next three hours, in order to build up his energy levels. It was Yuki’s method to relax and relieve his nervousness for two hours, and then concentrate on warming up for the remaining hour. Ever since the time when he was confronting his bar exam, Yuki preferred to increase the intensity of his concentration at this pace.

The six-mat guest room was completely occupied by the three futons laid out on the floor. Shindou, wearing his mask, was breathing faintly in his sleep. Yuki gently put his hand on his forehead and found it was still a little hot. The landlord was grinding his teeth as he slept soundly.

Yuki lightly folded his futon and put it in a corner so as to not wake them. Standing by the window, he quietly pulled back the curtains: the cozy garden of the ryokan was covered with a light dusting of snow, and ashy snowflakes continued to fall from the dark sky.

Yuki had never been skiing before. He didn’t understand going to the trouble of sticking boards to your feet in a cold place in a cold season. He thought it would be better to spend that time on one’s studies, and more than that, living with a single mother, they had no money to spend on fun.

Can I run down a steep, snow-covered slope? I can’t say I don’t want to run in the sixth leg at this point. Should I have at least experienced skiing if it’s like this?

The window was immediately fogged up by Yuki’s breath. The room was slightly warm from Yuki, Shindou and the landlord's combined body heat.

It’s not just me, Yuki reminded himself. In the past few years, there has never been snow on the roads of Hakone at New Year’s. Most of the runners—no, maybe all of them—have never gone down the mountain roads of Hakone covered in snow. Everyone lacks experience. I can run. I can run.

Chanting that in his mind as though to convince himself, Yuki picked up Kansei’s sash from the alcove. It seemed to still be damp from absorbing the sweat of the five people who had run in the outbound leg.

After carefully folding the sash and putting it in his jersey pocket, Yuki quietly left the guest room.

He walked through the corridor to the front door and saw the ryokan’s proprietress holding a newspaper.

“Oh, you’ve already changed?”

“Yes. I’ll be warming up from now on.”

“Outside?” Looking at the still-dark front of the building, the proprietress furrowed her brow in concern. “It’s minus five degrees right now.”

Yuki had planned to go outside, but he quickly changed his mind. He would have to wait until the temperature rose a little, or his muscles would stiffen up from the cold.

“May I borrow this space?”

He pointed at the empty lobby, and the proprietress graciously said, “By all means.

“Do you want to read the paper? I asked them to deliver it earlier today.”

While reading the newspaper, Yuki sat down on the floor of the lobby and began to stretch. He exhaled and began to relax his muscles and joints.

The paper had a big spread on the outbound leg of the Hakone Ekiden. Bousou University won the outbound leg by a narrow margin. It was a close race where it was impossible to tell if Rikudou University would make a comeback in the return leg, or which school would take the overall victory.

There was also a mention of Kansei under the headline “A Challenge with Only Ten People”. There was a photo of Shindou, unsteady and desperately trying to run on the mountain roads. Yuki opened his legs and brought his upper body down while reading the article.

“With only ten members, Kansei University unexpectedly put on the brakes in the fifth leg. They dropped down drastically in the rankings and ended the outbound leg in eighteenth place. However, with ace runners such as Kurahara, a freshman, and Kiyose, a fourth-year, in the return leg, there are still plenty of opportunities for a comeback. All eyes will be on the development of this small team’s great challenge.”

At the end of the article, there was a signature (布). It’s Nunoda-san, Yuki thought. The reporter Nunoda, who had come to Lake Shirakaba during summer vacation, had continued to keep an eye on Kansei.

There are still more than enough opportunities. We believe that, but it’s reassuring to have a third party say so as well. Yuki put the newspaper on the rack in the lobby and silently worked on stretching.

It was 6 when Shindou appeared in the lobby. He was wearing Musa’s bench coat and a mask. “Good morning,” he said in a hoarse voice, and pushed on Yuki’s back to help him stretch.

“You should be sleeping.”

“I asked Musa to give me a wake-up call because I knew you would be thoughtful like that.” Shindou sat down next to Yuki. “It’s snowing.”

“Yeah.”

The two watched the fluttering snow through the lobby window.

“How are you feeling?”

“Good. What about you?”

“I’m feeling much better.”

Yuki began doing sit-ups. Shindou lightly held his ankles still.

“To tell you the truth,” Yuki murmured, “I’m getting uncomfortably nervous. I want to run away, if I could.”

“I was the same way,” Shindou laughed under his mask. “Why don’t you try listening to some music? I took it from your luggage without asking.”

Yuki took the iPod Shindou gave him and put the earphones in his ears. He listened to his favorite songs for a while, but today, the world of sound was no comfort to Yuki.

“It’s no use.” Yuki tore out his earphones. “When I’m running, it feels like music I don’t like is playing through my head incoherently and endlessly. And it’s music that you can’t even get into! Like My Grandfather’s Clock (1) and stuff like that!”

“You hate it?”

“I don’t like irritating things.”

“I think it’s a good song, though,” Shindou said, and Yuki stood up with a “hmph.” Looking up at Yuki, who was rotating his ankles, Shindou made a suggestion.

“No matter what song plays in your head, you can always arrange it so it’s up-tempo.”

“Shindou, you’re amazing.” Yuki was deeply impressed. “I’m filled with worries. All I can think about are bad things like, what if I fall down the slope, or what if my shoelaces get torn off.”

“Yuki-senpai, you can even aim for the sectional prize.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because you’ve always accomplished what you said you would do. Whether it’s the bar exam or the Hakone Ekiden, you said you’ll do it, and you did.” Only Shindou’s eyes were smiling. “So say it this time too. That you’re aiming for the sectional prize.”

As though pushed by Shindou’s quiet force, Yuki said, “I am.”

“Yes, then it’s fine now. You will definitely run a good time.”

Yuki looked down at Shindou, who was nodding in satisfaction, and couldn’t help but laugh.

“I know how useless I was yesterday,” Yuki said. “I knew you were experiencing this pressure before the race, but I couldn’t support you like this.”

“No matter how much support I get, in the end, I’m the only one who can bounce back from the pressure.” Shindou also stood and prompted Yuki. “Let’s jog.” The two put on their shoes at the door and went outside. There was no sign of the sunrise anywhere, but birds were singing in the mountains. The fine snow felt dry against their cheeks.

“But yesterday, you stayed by my side until the very last moment before I started running, Yuki-senpai. That gave me a lot of strength.” Shindou pulled down his mask and breathed in the cold air. “That’s why, I’ll stay with you today. I’ll stay with you until you start.”

Yuki didn’t have any words to respond. He was simply happy, and watched Shindou put his mask back on.

“We’ll freeze if we stay in one spot. Let’s run.”

“By the way, how’s the landlord?”

“He said he’s going to take a morning bath.”

“He’s in a sightseeing mood, that person.”

“His nighttime teeth grinding was very loud, wasn’t it?”

They chatted about trifling things as they jogged, and Yuki and Shindou's white breaths flowed shakily along the dark, snowy lakeside path.

---

Kakeru was feeling restless.

Kiyose was acting strange. When Kakeru invited him to go jogging after breakfast, he refused, saying, “Go ahead. I’ve got a lot of calls to make.”

It’s definitely strange that Haiji-san didn’t do his morning jog. He didn’t seem to sleep well last night either. I wonder if his leg hurts.

After running around Yokohama Station for about thirty minutes, Kakeru decided to go back to the hotel. He could still warm up at the relay station. He had never cut a jog short before, no matter how sick he was, but right now he was worried about Kiyose. He wondered if he was planning on pushing himself too hard. As if spurred on by a bad premonition, Kakeru ran back to the hotel.

In the lobby of the small business hotel, Jouji was opening a sports newspaper while watching the weather forecast on TV. Noticing Kakeru running across the lobby and pushing the button for the elevator, he came up to him and said, “You’re early.

“Your jogging time was unusually short today.”

“Where’s Haiji-san?”

“I think he’s in his room. Prince-san and Hana-chan are organizing their luggage together. I was chased away. I can sense that he’s trying to keep me away from Hana-chan.” Jouji pouted in dissatisfaction, but Kakeru wasn’t listening anymore. He rode the elevator to the fifth floor. “What’s going on?” Jouji asked as he followed him.

Kansei had three rooms: Kakeru and Kiyose’s room was at the far end of the corridor, Jouji and Prince’s was next to theirs, and Hanako’s room was near the elevator.

After exiting the elevator, Kakeru passed a man in the hallway. He was in his late thirties and carrying a large black bag in his hand. Thinking that it looked like a house call bag, Kakeru turned around with a start. The doors to the elevator the man got into were just about to close.

That wasn’t a guest just now. That was a doctor. Kakeru had a hunch. He must be the doctor who came to examine Haiji-san’s leg.

“Haiji-san!”

Kiyose was sitting by the window near the two beds. He looked up in surprise at Kakeru’s menacing attitude, and Kakeru sprang at him.

“Let me see your leg, let me see it!”

Kiyose fell down onto the bed, pushed by the momentum. Kakeru didn’t care and tried to pull up the cuff of Kiyose’s track pants.

“Just calm down, Kakeru! I’ll explain!”

Jouji was standing in the doorway of their room, watching in amazement as Kakeru and Kiyose grappled with each other. Noticing the commotion, Prince and Hanako came out of the room next door.

When Hanako asked, “What’s this all about?” Jouji tilted his head to the side.

“Uh, I have no idea.”

Kiyose finally pulled Kakeru off of him and beckoned everyone in the doorway to come in. The group that had stayed in Yokohama gathered in the room and sat down on the beds and chairs of their choice.

“Haiji-san, there was a doctor in this room a while ago, wasn’t there?” Kakeru sat on the bed and questioned Kiyose.

“There was,” Kiyose admitted as though he could see that there was no way out of this. “It was the doctor who always examines me. I asked him to make a house call and he gave me some painkillers.”

“The leg you said you injured—did it not heal?” Prince asked in shock. Jouji and Hanako had never even heard that Kiyose was injured, and they looked at each other in disbelief.

“What are you going to do?” It was all Kakeru could do not to let his voice tremble.

“Of course I’m running.”

“Are you okay with being so reckless?”

“If I’m not going to be reckless now, then when?”

“If…” Kakeru hesitated to put it into words. He was afraid that if he said it aloud, it would become reality.

“What if you can’t run for the rest of your life because of your recklessness today?”

He saw Jouji gasp and Prince hanging his head. Hanako didn’t move, only watching the course of Kiyose and Kakeru’s exchange.

Kakeru stared fixedly at Kiyose and waited for a response.

“It would be very painful,” Kiyose’s voice was quiet, and Kakeru knew that he had been thinking about that for a long time already. “But I won’t regret it.”

There’s no stopping him, Kakeru thought. If he were in Kiyose’s position, he would still choose to run.

Kakeru made up his mind. If that’s the case, then there’s only one thing I can do: to put as little burden on Haiji-san as possible, I should gain as much time as I can in the ninth leg.

The silence that enveloped the room was broken by Kiyose's phone ringing. He hung up after a short conversation.

“That was Shindou. The final entries were announced at Lake Ashi. Just as expected, Rikudou put Fujioka in the ninth leg.”

Jouji looked at Kakeru with both anticipation and worry in his eyes. “Okay,” Kakeru murmured. Blood was rushing through his body, and his heart was beating with joy and a fighting spirit; the day had come when they could finally compete in the same place. At the TSU meet in spring, he had only chased Fujioka’s back, but it was finally time to test how fast and strong he had become since then.

“Kakeru, don’t lose the race,” Kiyose said. Kakeru nodded determinedly.

It was past 7 in the morning.

They had to leave the hotel now. From now on, they were to split up: Kakeru and Jouji were going to the Totsuka relay station; Kiyose and Prince were going to the Tsurumi relay station; Hanako was going to Otemachi, the finish line.

“Are you okay with Jouji attending you? I can go with you, if you’d like,” Prince asked Kakeru, but he didn’t understand the intention of his question at all.

“Why? It’s fine as we planned.”

Even though his generous consideration was turned down, Prince didn’t seem offended at all, instead laughing and shaking his head lightly as though to say, “Good grief.”

When they reached the Yokohama Station premises, Kiyose said to Kakeru, “About what you said earlier.

“The situation isn’t as serious as you think. The painkillers are working, and I’m not beyond recovery.”

“Is that really true?”

“Have I ever lied?”

“Quite a lot.”

Kiyose frowned at the sky for a few moments, seemingly recalling his past acts.

“Don’t worry. I’m telling the truth this time,” he smiled. “I’m looking forward to seeing you run at Tsurumi.”

He felt like he wanted to say something to Kiyose—his gratitude, worry, and determination. But they were feelings that would never take shape no matter how many words he spent on them, so Kakeru only said, “I’ll hand you the sash not a second late.”

The group raised their hands a little to say goodbye, and then headed up the stairs to the platform to go to their respective places.

---

8 a.m.

As the starting gun sounded from Lake Ashi, the Bousou runner started running first. One minute and thirty-nine seconds later, the Rikudou runner followed.

One after another, the runners from each school left Lake Ashi with their sashes, with a time difference reflecting the times they had finished at Lake Ashi in the outbound leg. This time, the return leg of the Hakone Ekiden was beginning, heading for Otemachi, Tokyo.

Schools with more than ten minutes of difference from the outbound leg leader, Bousou, would start together ten minutes after Bousou began the return leg. In this year’s race, five schools had to start at the same time: the federation selected team, Eurasia University, Kansei University, Tokyo Gakuin University, and Shinsei University.

Kansei had a time difference of eleven minutes and fifty-three seconds with Bousou. Even though they would start the race simultaneously after ten minutes, the extra one minute and fifty-three seconds would not be discarded and would be automatically added to their overall time. Because of the simultaneous start, the visible order in which the runners were running and their orders by their times might differ from each other for the return leg.

In the return leg, especially for lower ranked teams, the competitors must not only look at the race’s development before their eyes, but also keep in mind the complicated time calculation, and try to fight calmly to raise their actual rankings as much as possible.

I’m made for this, Yuki thought. Rather than competing against others, he preferred to think about how to achieve his goals by developing countermeasures and how to show off his abilities while doing that. The sixth leg of the Hakone Ekiden, the mountain descent, suited his personality; he didn’t have to be misled by the apparent rankings, he just had to use his skills to run down the winding slope against the invisible enemy called time.

Just as he had declared, Shindou stayed by Yuki’s side the entire time before his departure. He helped him stretch, massaged his calves to prevent them from stiffening up in the cold, and conversed with him casually. Thanks to him, Yuki was able to calm his mind and focus on the race.

When the time came to set off, Yuki took off his bench coat and left it with Shindou. The temperature at Lake Ashi was minus three degrees Celsius. There was still powder snow in the air. The road surface was covered in snow and the ruts were frozen. Even with a long-sleeved T-shirt under his uniform, there was no way to prevent the cold from pressing down on him. The lack of wind was the only saving grace.

Jounan Bunka University was the last team that was able to start according to its time difference with Bousou. After being called by the staff member, the teams hurriedly lined up at the start line to start simultaneously.

Yuki looked at the crowd of people next to him. Shindou was almost swallowed up by the waves of spectators, but he was watching Yuki firmly.

“We’ll meet at Otemachi,” Yuki said. It might not have reached him, having gotten lost in the cheers, but Shindou was nodding.

Ten seconds after Jounan Bunka, the runners from the five teams started running at the same time on cue. Yuki’s glasses immediately fogged up from his body heat, but he soon regained his clear vision thanks to the cold wind blowing.

The road surface was covered with a thin layer of snow, making it nerve-wracking to even walk on flat surfaces, but running on it, there was no time to check your footing. Every step he took, the sherbet-like snowflakes bounced off his legs. Even the lightest shoes with the latest features couldn’t prevent the soles from slipping slightly as they kicked the surface.

The first four kilometers from the lakeside road to the highest point of Route 1 were mostly uphill. Of the five teams that had started at the same time, Eurasia was in front and Yuki didn’t hesitate to follow him. When he checked his watch at the first kilometer, his pace was less than three minutes and twenty seconds.

On the way up, he was a little too fast considering the poor road conditions. But if he didn’t go all out here, then there was no way Kansei would be able to improve their ranking in the return leg. Besides, Yuki thought, among the runners assigned to the sixth leg, the Rikudou runner was the only one who has a record of twenty-eight minutes for the ten-thousand meter. In other words, the runners in the sixth leg don’t put much emphasis on speed.

From the highest point to the town of Hakone-Yumoto, almost the entire sixth leg was downhill. Even if your time on flat surfaces wasn’t good, you could still go fast on the downhill if you gathered momentum. What was important was the dexterity to change your running style depending on the ups and downs, a sense of physical balance, and the boldness to run downhill without fear.

Even if he entered the first uphill slope at a somewhat fast pace, he would be able to conserve enough stamina. With this judgement, Yuki didn’t recoil.

They left the lakeside and headed up the path towards the mountains. There was one small up-and-down right before the highest point. As they approached the first descent, Yuki looked at his watch again. Kiyose had instructed him to run at a pace of three minutes and twenty seconds per kilometer on the way up, but he was now going at a pace of three minutes and fifteen seconds per kilometer.

I can do it. He was convinced. His body felt light and he was able to asjust his footwork according to the ups and downs without even thinking about it.

Tokyo Gakuin University and Shinsei University were already about to be shaken off from the lower-ranked group, which was now composed of six schools as it had absorbed Jounan Bunka, who had departed ahead of them.

All Yuki could think about was overtaking as many schools as possible in front of him. The cold didn’t bother him anymore. He climbed to the highest point in one go.

The downhill slope, which stretched for nearly fifteen kilometers, awaited him, meandering on and on beyond the falling snow.

---

“Isn’t he going too fast?”

Watching the portable TV, Kakeru arrived at the Totsuka relay station with Jouji. The screen showed Yuki and the others passing in front of the main gate of the Flower Center, the five-kilometer marker.

“But I heard that the normal pace for the sixth leg is five kilometers in around thirteen minutes?” Jouji said in his usual carefree way, but it didn’t ease Kakeru’s concerns. It was the pace after you got into the descent in earnest—it was hard even for a runner himself to hold back his speed once he was completely going downhill. Once your body got into the rhythm of the descent, it wasn’t impossible to run down a hundred meters in fifteen seconds. In the sixth leg, despite the long distance of 20.7 kilometers, the speed in some places was comparable to that of a short distance run.

However, even though the first five kilometers were uphill and the road conditions weren’t good, he was running in sixteen minutes. Even with Yuki’s running ability, it seemed to Kakeru that this was clearly an excessive pace.

“I’ll call Haiji-san.”

Kakeru took out his phone from his jacket pocket.

“You worry too much,” Jouji said, shrugging a little.

“Yes, this is Kiyose.” The phone immediately relayed Kiyose’s voice along with the bustle from outside. It seemed that he had already arrived at the Tsurumi relay station.

“Are you listening to the radio?”

“Prince’s phone has a TV function. He also found out about it just now. We’re watching it. It’s amazing what you can do with a cell phone these days.”

“Yes. No, not about that…” Prince’s slow pace and Kiyose’s hopelessness with technology made Kakeru feel dizzy. “Isn’t Yuki-senpai running a little too fast?”

“Yeah. I would call the landlord, but there’s no point—the coach cars don’t stay close to the runners on the mountain roads of Hakone.”

“What should we do?”

“There’s nothing we can do. The rest is the descent. It would be foolish to slow down now, so we can only pray that Yuki doesn’t slip and fall,” Kiyose let out a light laugh, as though he had gotten over all his worries. “Anyways Kakeru, make sure to jog and warm up properly. I have to get in touch with Nico-chan-senpai and King now, so we’ll talk later.”

The call ended, and Kakeru let out a sigh.

“I told you it’s fine,” Jouji took the phone from Kakeru. “You need to trust us a little more.”

“Trust, huh,” Kakeru began to rotate his ankles and prepare for a jog. “Come to think of it, Katsuta-san said that too.”

“H-Hana-chan?” Jouji immediately turned red. “Why are you bringing up Hana-chan?”

“What do you mean why?”

“Are you doing that on purpose or are you really that airheaded?” Growing impatient with Kakeru’s pointless reply, Jouji turned to him again. “Hey, you know, I like Hana-chan.”

“I know.”

“You know!? How?”

“Nico-chan-senpai said it on the phone yesterday.”

Even when we’re apart from each other, we can still be overheard just as well as when we’re in Chikusei-sou, Jouji grumbled.

“What about you, Kakeru?” He asked the question he wanted to ask the most: “Is it okay if I confess to Hana-chan?”

Why do you need to check with me for that? It seems that the residents of Chikusei-sou are convinced that I like Katsuta-san. Kakeru, pondering up to that point, felt a jolt to his heart like the feeling of falling during the first stage of sleep.

I like Katsuta-san.

It was partly because he was so dense that he couldn’t even laugh at the twins, but it was a feeling that had been in his heart so quietly and naturally that he hadn’t been aware of it until now.

Kakeru had always kept Hanako’s figure carefully in his memory. The color of her scarf on the night they walked together. The profile of her face when she watched them train under the sky where summer clouds were rising. The first time he saw her, her thin back as she pedalled her bike through the shopping district.

Kakeru was looking at Hanako. And all that time, her eyes and thoughts were solely on the twins.

“Now I get it.”

Kakeru was shocked at his feelings that had finally become clear.

“…What are you talking about?” Jouji nervously asked, seemingly thinking that it was creepy how he had suddenly zoned and then nodded to himself.

“No,” Kakeru shook his head. “I think you should just confess to her.”

It wasn’t an act of bravado, but a feeling of clarity. He was sure that Hanako would be happy to know Jouji’s feelings. Perhaps she would be equally pleased with a confession from Jouta, and there might be a quarrel there. But that wasn’t Kakeru’s business.

This wasn’t a competition. Hanako’s heart belonged to her. Jouji’s heart belonged to him as well. It was the same as how Kakeru’s heart only belonged to him. It was a domain that was free from all standards and measures, something no one could steal or bend.

It was satisfying to know that there was a gentle but strong feeling within him that had nothing to do with speed or victory or defeat. Hanako, who taught him those feelings, seemed more and more important to him. Kakeru would be happy if her love was realized.

Also, I’m used to long-distance running. I’m good at patiently waiting for an opportunity. Even if Hanako has feelings for the twins right now, you can’t state definitively that it’ll be forever.

“I see, I guess it’s better to tell her. Uwah, what should I do, I’m so nervous.”

Jouji was determined to confess his feelings to Hanako without any hesitation, not realizing that Kakeru, who was patient when it came to the important things, was chewing on his first realization of love like a ruminating cow.

---

Yuki was smoothly descending the mountain.

In the beginning, he tried to run on the ruts because he was afraid of slipping on the frozen snow, but then he couldn’t steer a good course through the turns. Too much concern about slipping would cause him to put pressure on his muscles, which would make it all come to nothing. In the end, Yuki decided to run and take the course as usual.

Running downhill is fun, Yuki thought. To be able to feel such acceleration with my own body. His speed was so fast that even the soft snowflakes hitting his face from the front hurt like pebbles. While balancing with his whole body, he followed the slope as it led him forward. His fear of falling down didn’t cross his mind at all in the face of the pleasure of speed.

The front of Kowakien was the ten-kilometer point of the sixth leg. It was also a TV relay point. Even though the weather was bad and it was early in the morning, there were spectators along the roadside cheering for them. Following the Eurasia runner, Yuki turned to the right, and he could hear the watery footsteps of the Shinsei runner right behind him.

Yuki, of course, had no way of knowing, but the announcer and the commentator Yanaka were watching the live feed and commentating on the running of the athletes from each school.

“The footage of the lower-ranked teams at the ten-kilometer mark is coming in. What do you think, Yanaka-san?”

“They’re going at quite a fast pace. I thought that the section prize for the sixth leg would go to Manaka, who is steadily improving their rank from twelfth place, but there is a possibility that it will go to one of the lower-ranked teams.”

“According to the data at hand, except for Tamura-kun of Rikudou, all the runners in the sixth leg have an official record in the twenty-nine-minute range for the ten-thousand meters.”

“When it comes to the mountain descent, the time on flat surfaces is not that important. If you can run ten-thousand meters in the twenty-nine-minute range, then the rest is all down to guts.”

“Guts, you say?”

“Yes. The speed and incline the runners experience is much more than what you see on the screen. It’s like pedalling a bike down a steep slope with both hands free. And today, the footing isn’t good. It’s crucial to calmly keep your balance and have the guts to keep your momentum going.”

“Which of the lower-ranked teams do you think is closest to the section prize?”

“I still don’t know yet, but I like Iwakura-kun of Kansei. He has a very stable lower body. His upper body doesn’t sway unnecessarily, and he doesn’t flinch from running down bad roads at all. He is an excellent example of how to run downhill.”

“I see. The rest would depend on their persistence when the road becomes flat after Hakone-Yumoto. They've passed the ten-kilometer TV relay point.”

As they descended in altitude, the snow turned into sleet mixed with rain and the road became covered with a sherbet-like muck. Yuki realized that he had crossed the width of the crosswalk in two steps.

The current crosswalk was probably four meters wide. If he had crossed it in two steps, then that meant he had gone two meters in one step. Yuki was once again shocked at himself—his acceleration was incredible. He had gained momentum and was literally running as if he were flying, and his stride was widening as a result. He glanced at his watch: for the past five kilometers, he had been running downhill at a pace of two minutes and forty seconds.

One kilometer in two minutes and forty seconds. It was a time Yuki couldn’t achieve on flat ground. As far as he knew, the only person who could sustain such a pace for five kilometers on level ground was Kakeru.

The branches of the cedar trees on the roadside were piled with pure white snow. The trunks were black and wet, and the mountains had been transformed overnight into a beautiful, monochromatic world. As soon as they appeared in the corner of his eye, they streamed backwards, smoother and faster than in a movie.

So, this is the world Kakeru normally experiences. Yuki had a lump in his throat.

Kakeru, you’re in a very lonely place, aren’t you? The wind rumbles loudly in your ears, and all the scenery passes by you in an instant. It feels so good that I never want to stop running, but it’s a world you can only experience alone.

For the first time, he understood why Kakeru was so devoted to running, sometimes to the point of overdoing it. If Yuki were allowed to run at such a speed, he would certainly indulge in it like an addict. He wanted to see the world in quicker, even more beautiful instants. Perhaps that was a momentary experience, almost like an eternity. However, it was too dangerous—it was a world that was too beautiful, too harsh to challenge with a flesh and blood body.

Now I’m just looking at the gate that would lead me there from a distance, with the help of the mountain roads of Hakone, Yuki thought. He knew that he wouldn’t get any closer.

Dragged in by Kiyose’s enthusiasm, Yuki’s life had been centered around running for the past year. But that life was coming to an end today. I have my own way of life. I don’t want to aim for momentary beauty and exaltation, sharpening my mind and body day after day. I want to choose to live among people, even if I’m covered in filth. That’s why I passed the bar and am trying to become a lawyer.

Today’s the end. But I’m glad I experienced this speed for the first and last time. Yuki smiled slightly as he sped along the mountain road. Kakeru, don’t go too far. What you’re aiming for is a beautiful place, but it’s lonely and quiet. So much that it doesn’t suit a living person.

It would be nice if there’s something to tie Kakeru’s soul to the earth, Yuki thought. In people’s lives, in people’s joys and sorrows. It’s only by planting his feet on the ground that Kakeru would definitely become even stronger. Balance was essential. It was the same as running down a snowy mountain road.

As Yuki entered the Miyanoshita Hot Spring Village and passed in front of the Fujiya Hotel, he saw something unexpected and let out a short cry.

“Uwah!”

In front of the hotel, there were many guests waving Hakone Ekiden flags. Some of them were dressed lightly in yukata and padded kimonos, shouting their voices hoarse even as they shrank back from the cold. Among them, Yuki saw his mother, his younger sister who was only half related to him, and his mother’s second husband.

“Yukihiko!” his mother shouted loudly.

“Onii-chan, do your best!” His young sister leaned forward, and his stepfather, who was holding her, nodded firmly.

“This is so embarrassing…”

He passed by the hotel in a few moments, but Yuki ran for a while with his head down. Did my family elegantly spend the New Year’s at that hotel? Yuki snarked inwardly to cover up his embarrassment. They probably knew I wouldn’t be able to come by even if they invited me, so they planned to surprise me by not saying anything. Even so, it’s too bad for my heart. I hope the TV and radio didn’t pick up the voices and figures of Mom and the others. Nico-chan-senpai would definitely make fun of me if he knew. Well, he should only have a radio, so I think I’ll be fine.

Yuki suddenly felt happy. That look on Mom’s face just now. She looked desperate and tearful, like she was the one running.

Yuki didn’t remember his biological father. He had died in an accident right after he was born, so his only memories of his father were in his mother’s words and photos. Since his father’s death, Yuki had only lived with his mother, and he treasured her very much. His high school girlfriend had once said to him, “Yuki, you’re a mama’s boy, aren’t you?” Of course I am, Yuki thought. A son who doesn’t take care of his mother isn’t a good son.

Perhaps because he grew up watching his mother work late into the night, Yuki set his sights on his goals early on. He wanted to get a steady job so that he could make his mother’s life easier. Fortunately, he had confirmed during his school life that his brain wasn’t half-bad. If that was the case, then it would be easy to aim for the bar exam, which was called the strongest qualification. He thought that being a lawyer, where he could work between logic and emotion, would be suitable for him, and more importantly, it seemed to make a lot of money. As soon as Yuki entered high school, he began preparing for the exam on his own. He studied hard and worked on his stamina. He thought that he should be well-versed in the inner workings of relationships between men and women, so he went out with girls.

However, something happened that made Yuki’s efforts all come to nothing: his mother remarried. Her new husband was an office worker who earned a decent wage, so his mother didn’t have to work anymore. She loved her new husband and seemed to be very happy. His stepfather was easily able to do more for her than Yuki had ever wanted to do for his mother.

Yuki couldn’t help but feel devastated. He had his pride, and when he decided to do something, he had to finish it, so he didn’t give up on passing the bar exam. However, it was all in vain now. The following year after his mother remarried, she had his little sister. This was also a situation that made Yuki, who was in his late teens, feel awkward and uncomfortable. When he got into university, he left home and rarely came back, even at New Year’s.

Seeing his family cheer him on made the trivial pent-up feelings he had melt away. As though to match that, the snow had completely transformed into rain.

Both his stepfather and his sister had always cared for Yuki as a member of the family. And most importantly, his mother was happy. That’s all that matters. That’s exactly what I’ve always wanted. It would be childish of me to keep sulking about the fact that my mother became happy in a slightly different way than I envisioned.

Yuki laughed, unnoticed by anyone else, in the midst of his white and billowing exhalation. Before he knew it, he caught a glimpse of the Teitou University runner's back at the end of the turn. He couldn’t sense anyone behind him; he seemed to have pulled away from the lower-ranked teams he had started the race with.

He looked at his watch and confirmed that he hadn’t slowed down his pace at all. His mind and body felt light. He could go the rest of the way downhill at this pace. What was important was whether or not he could keep up this running for the last three kilometers of flat ground after Hakone-Yumoto. Kiyose had given him advice yesterday.

“After a downhill slope, even flat ground feels like going uphill. That’s when the real battle begins.”

I think I’ll be okay, Yuki answered in his mind. I have no intention of losing today—to the battle between me and my body and mind.

---

The drums were still beating at the Odawara relay station. In front of Kazamatsuri Station, there were many people crowded into the kamaboko company's parking lot, waiting for the arrival of the sixth leg athletes.

“Did you see that, Jouta? Yuki’s face was there just now!”

Nico-chan had directly witnessed the scene in front of Fujiya Hotel with the TV function of his cell phone. It was only when Haiji called him earlier that he realized he could watch TV on Jouta’s phone as well. Even Nico-chan, who was knowledgeable about computers, only used his phone for calling, and Jouta only used his for texting. Perhaps it was because he wasn’t interested in the evolution of machines that he could be satisfied with the rundown apartment.

“Yuki-senpai’s mom is young and beautiful,” Jouta said, biting into a rolled omelette. “By the way, he’s going to win the section prize at this rate, isn’t he?”

“Yuki doesn’t seem to be aware of that fact, though. The Manaka guy is just as fast as him, so it's hard to tell.”

“Ugh, I’m so frustrated! I want to tell Yuki-senpai his time.”

“How?”

“I’ll use willpower or telekinesis or something,” Jouta put the omelet he was partway through eating away in his sports bag and began to look at his phone intently. “In less than twenty minutes, it will be Nico-chan-senpai’s turn.”

The screen showed Bousou in the lead, and Rikudou chasing behind with a difference of about one and a half minutes. They were about to finish their descent and head towards Hakone-Yumoto Station. The Manaka runner, aiming for the section prize, had improved his position and was now in eighth place. His pace hadn’t slowed at all.

“How’s Yuki?”

“He’s not on the screen. Until they go out to Hakone-Yumoto, the lower-ranked teams won’t be shown much.”

Nico-chan told Jouta to keep an eye on Manaka’s time and began his final adjustments. He ran lightly in the parking lot to loosen up.

Nine o’clock in the morning. The Bousou runner arrived at the station in the lead. His time was sixty minutes and forty-six seconds. Rikudou and Yamato were the next to receive their sashes. Nico-chan hurried back to Jouta, who was near the relay line.

“Amazing!” Jouta was excited. “Even on flat ground, his speed hasn’t slowed down. Keep going, Yuki-senpai!”

On the screen of his phone, he could see Yuki sidestepping the Teitou runner at the crossroad with New Hakone Road. Kansei, in fourteenth place, had a clear view of TSU in front of them.

“Yes, that’s it!”

Nico-chan took off his jersey. Now it was time to see if Yuki could get the section prize.

“Manaka?”

“We'll be able to see them with our own eyes soon.”

Jouta raised his head from his phone. “They’re here!” he shouted.

The red uniform of Manaka, running along the railroad tracks, was just about to turn off the road and enter the relay station. They knew he was a candidate for the section prize, so the cheers were even louder. Manaka’s sash was handed over.

“What’s his record!”

“Sixty minutes and twenty-four seconds.”

Jouta read the information on the TV screen on his phone out loud. It was a good time for running on snowy roads. Even Rikudou’s Tamura, whose ten-kilometer time was in the twenty-eight minute range, had a time of sixty minutes and forty-eight seconds.

At the relay station, the schools relayed their sashes one after the other. The TV screen showed that Yuki was almost there.

Yuki, just a little more. The staff member called Nico-chan to stand at the relay line. All that was left was a race against time. Next to him, the TSU runner received his sash and started running. He could hear Jouta’s voice as he timed Yuki on his watch.

“Sixty minutes and seventeen seconds, eighteen, nineteen…”

Yuki entered the relay station. He was gritting his teeth and holding the unfastened sash in his right hand. He might have learned Manaka’s time from the spectators along the road and was trying to summon up all his strength in the final stretch.

“Yuki!” Nico-chan howled. “Sixty minutes and twenty-four seconds,” Jouta screamed. There was a stir from the spectators. The sash still hadn’t been passed to Nico-chan’s hand. Yuki was a step short of the section prize.

But at that moment, Nico-chan forgot about the existence of times. Yuki’s eyes were looking straight at him. He wasn’t thinking about the section prize at all, he just wanted to give the sash to Nico-chan as soon as possible. That was the only thing he was thinking about as he made it through the last three flat kilometers. Nico-chan understood that. He could see that in Yuki’s fingertips, which were still hot and damp despite being exposed to the cold wind.

“Good job,” Nico-chan muttered.

“I’m tired. I’m leaving the rest to you.”

Yuki clapped Nico-chan on the back, managed to step firmly on his trembling legs, and prevented himself from falling over.

“Yuki-senpai!” Jouta snatched a towel from a staff member and ran up to Yuki to support him. “It's disappointing, but you were incredible!”

“Disappointing? What is?” Yuki drank water from a plastic water bottle and finally found his voice.

“The section prize. Yuki-senpai’s time was sixty minutes and twenty-six seconds. If you had been two seconds faster, you would have tied for the section prize.”

“Really.”

Two seconds. Yuki laughed. Only two seconds. Such a short amount of time that passed in a single breath. Did I miss out on being the best in this leg by such a small margin?

“Oh well,” Yuki said. “Those two seconds were like an hour to me.”

Jouta almost cried when he saw Yuki’s soles after he took off his shoes. The blisters at the base of his big toes had peeled off and there was blood welling up, even though the skin on his soles had grown so thick over the past year. He realized just how hard it was to run down the mountains of Hakone.

“Of course it was enough. You were so cool, Yuki-senpai.”

After patting the tearful Jouta on the head, Yuki looked at the road leading toward the town of Odawara.

I’m leaving the rest to you, Nico-chan-senpai.

Previous | Next

[idontmeantosoundrudebut]

Many of Horry - Chapter three: Sated hunger, sated madness

HELLO THERE! (that's fucking obi-wan Kenobi meme) it has been a hot minute but I have returned with the promised saucy goods and oh boy, its a mess. Both of ours boys are a mess, a hot mess, yes, very hot, very messy. BUT. Also very soft, very gentle, very romaaaance and its a bit of bad romance (insert lady gaga here plz). Snotlout has no marbles, boy's done lost them all, and Eret is just being British, idk tbh??? Should of added a "you know nothing, Jon snow" gag but that's a bit petty, though i may change my mind, I'm two-faced like that!

This is the boys doing the horizontal tango (add careless whisper saxophone here plz) with violence, soft moments, bickering, angst, scars, body-worshipping and all of the stuff that make weapons of mass destruction!

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Chapter summary -  Ten months prior to Eret's leave, Snotlout a mad decision. Ten months prior to his leave, Eret took a mad man to bed.

Chapter warnings - SEX! SMUT! THE HORIZONTAL TANGO! THEY GOT AT IT LIKE RABBITS! Um, also scars, mental instability (Snotlout is kinda crazy in this fic) violence

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He's not even given the pleasure of a warning. No distant cursing, no dramatic door-knocking, no crass bragging. Nothing.

Snotlout just storms into his cabin and punches Eret in the face.

It sends him to the floor and he stays there for a second, hand rubbing at his aching jaw as he looks up at Snotlout, confused and angry. Snotlout's eyes, hauntingly pale in the firelight, are brimming with unspoken rage and his lips are curled back in a wrathful snarl, there is too much anger in him and its brimming at the surface.

After that, his immediate instinct is to stand back up and fight back. Which he does. He thrusts his hands against Snotlout's chest, pushing him back a few feet, and Eret is confused when that snarl flips into a crooked grin. He wants this, he wants a fight, and who is Eret to deny him that?

"If you wanted a scrap, Snotlout, you should've just asked," Eret rolls his shoulders, feeling confident and angry because how dare this short mad man come into his home and attack him? Unprovoked, mind.

"Where'd be the fun in that?" Snotlout laughs and it raises goosebumps along his arms because there is something distinctively unhinged about that sound, it leaves an unnerved feeling in his gut. Men who laugh in the face of danger are the true animals, his father once said, for they have no fear. Even dragons cower at the prospect of death. Mad men howl for joy.

Snotlout charges forward with an arm reeled back, ready to throw a punch, and Eret ducks to the side as that closed fist falls through the empty space, leaving Snotlout staggering forward. But that mad smile doesn't falter as he expected it to and the look that Snotlout gives him from beneath his lashes triggers his flight or fight. It's the face of a rabid animal, of a mad wolf, of a deranged dragon, of something so deluded it doesn't even know what it's doing.

But despite this, Eret stands his ground and fights because he's ran away from things his whole life. Not anymore. He will fight Snotlout, he will fight this mad man.

He heaves in a heavy breath, holds it, then lurches forward with a closed fist. Snotlout doesn't dodge, or move, or even blink and there is something terribly wrong with that. A crunching sound fills the room as his fist hits Snotlout square in the face. Eret exhales harshly as he brings his hand up to brush the loose hair from his face, knuckles throbbing and heart thumping in his chest.

Snotlout takes a step back, head down and hand to face. By all rights, he should be on the floor, out for the night, Eret hit him as hard as he could. That too leaves a sickness in his gut. How can such a small body take such a huge punch? (Not that he's bragging, he's just aware of his own strength)

After a moment, Snotlout let's his hand falls to his side and it's wet with blood.

Then the dragon-rider looks up at him. Eret swallows firmly.

Rivers of blood pour from his nostrils and steadily flow over his lips and down his chin, thick droplets dripping from his jaw and some streak down his neck like exposed veins. He looks terrible with all that blood on him. Oh Gods.

But Snotlout, to his horror, smiles at him with all his teeth and they too are red, glistening, threatening. (It might be the trick of the firelight, but they look sharp)

He looks like a wolf, a wild animal that's just made a kill.

"Snotlout-" Eret starts, no longer angry but concerned because this isn't the Snotlout he knows (not that he knows him well), this isn't the prideful man who's bull-headed and overconfident, who's put-together and two dimensional. No, this is something else, something Eret is familiar with.

Many men went mad under Drago's tyranny.

Snotlout takes no notice of his name being spoken and throws a poorly aimed punch, his fist a good foot from his target. He staggers forward before righting himself, staring at Eret with wild eyes.

"Snotlout, enough now," He states firmly, forcing himself to stand taller to intimidate the shorter, but Snotlout just laughs through his wet teeth.

"What? Am I too much for the greatest dragon-trapper alive?" Snotlout mocks darkly as he opens his arms, almost inviting Eret to attack him.

And hot with the sudden rage of being mocked, of his dark past being bright to the light like its a joke, Eret takes that invitation eagerly.

He yells out as he tackles Snotlout to the floor, anchoring him down with his weight, and his vision blurs as he swings again and again and again till his hand feels close to breaking. Snotlout doesn't fight back. He pummels Snotlout's face as a great hatred unfurls in his chest, a hatred that does not belong to Snotlout, but to Drago.

To Drago. To his corrupted home. To himself. This hatred that's been festering within him belongs to all the things that have caused him to run away. All he's ever done is run, like a coward. Now, he will fight. When he looks beneath him, he sees Drago, he sees the men who murdered his father, he sees himself.

But when the fog clears, Eret is overwhelmed with regret and the first thing that goes through his head is oh Gods, I've killed him. Beneath him is Snotlout, not the men who made a coward of him. What have I done?

Eret pants and stares as he lowers his face closer to Snotlout's, who also pants. He's alive, thank Gods, I'm not a murderer. No, you are, you're still a murder, you're just like the men who killed him!

"Thanks,"

Eret shakes his head and really looks at Snotlout because what? Did- did he- did he just thank him? And then he catches the grin, this blissed out grin made of split lips and bloody teeth, Gods, he's been smiling the whole time. He can't find the words to answer back, he doesn't even know what he would say. (You're welcome)

The rider's face is red and shiny with blood and it makes his eyes so bright, so pale, so blue that he could drown in them. And in those eyes, in those cold waters, Eret sees a calmness that shouldn't be there after getting your face battered in. This is what he wanted, he let you do this, this wasn't a fight, he doesn't know what it was, but I wasn't a fight.

Then those eyes do something Eret wasn't expecting. They flicker down, down, to his lips. And they stare for a few moments before looking back into his, ghost-like and near-white. It leaves a familiar coiling feeling in his gut and he can't stop himself from doing the same, glimpsing a look at those red-shining lips that, suddenly, looks so kissable, even with all that blood.

He wonders is Snotlout came here for any other alternative motives.

Perhaps he asks this question through his eyes because Snotlout's eyebrows jump suggestively and he runs his tongue over his teeth, smearing that deep blood. It sends a hot flash straight to his cock and Eret swallows to quench the dryness in his throat.

"What do you want, Snotlout?" He asks lowly, hands on either side of the shorter's shoulders.

"I think you know, Eret," He responds stubbornly, his voice smug, and they feel so close, like there are no gaps between them. His heart feels like it's suffocating.

Eret does know, or he believes he does. He doesn't want to assume, doesn't want to make this situation worse than it already is.

"I want you to say it,"

It's a challenge and Snotlout's grin widens until there's too many teeth (just like Ruffnut's) and he raises his head till their noses touch, till their breaths warm each other. He licks his lips like a hungry beast and doesn't break eye contact, Eret can't believe how wildly blue they are. It's like looking at a frozen lake, the thick ice has cracked but not feel enough to break.

"I want you to fuck me,"

And that's it. It's out in the open. Eret is suddenly aware of the hardness pressing against his thigh and oh, how it just urges his own to grow in strength, and Snotlout know this too. He bites his bruised lip and blinks slowly. It has to be the prettiest thing he's ever seen. Never mind the blood, never mind the bruises, those eyes are otherworldly.

Slowly, Eret closes the gap between them and the kiss isn't rushed or violent, it's a hesitant movement. After a moment, Snotlout's breath hitches and reels back at the tender touch as if Eret has just smacked his across the face. He looks up at him and Eret swallows at the sudden insecurity that's swirling in those eyes, no longer angry or mad or confident, but unsure in the face of tenderness.

Eret waits for him to move and, sure enough, Snotlout again lifts his head, eyes fluttering closed as Eret meets him in the middle. Their lips slot together like they're meant to be and it fills Eret's heart with a warm feeling, like molten gold in his arteries. The irony taste of blood touches his taste buds as he swipes his tongue along Snotlout's busted lips, who lets out a quiet moan from the back of his throat. More, Eret hears.

It's goes on for a few minutes, this gentle dance, before Snotlout tries to speed it up. He tries to make it angry and obscene, tries to make it as dirty as their fight but Eret isn't having it. No, if they're going to do this, they're going to do this right.

Forcefully, he takes Snotlout's hands and slams them to the floor, above his head, in an almost bruising hold, staring down at him with a dark look.

"Calm down," He orders, his voice rough and heady, and Snotlout's entire body goes weak beneath him at the his commanding tone, "I know that you want a quick fuck, but we're not doing it like that, understand? Not while you're like this,"

Snotlout doesn't respond to him, but now he's almost hyper-focused on Eret and the way he's reacted to the solid orders and the firm hands immediately clicks an understanding in Eret. Snotlout, proud Snotlout who hates authority and instructions, needs to be told what to do.

A soft feeling spreads across his chest and Eret lowers his head till his mouth is next to Snotlout's ear.

"You need me to get you out of your head?" He whispers softly, absently rubbing his thumb over the throbbing pulse on his wrist, and Snotlout lightly nods his head, a shiver moving through his body.

"Fuck me-" Snotlout growls frustratedly, "-like you hate me,"

"No," is his firm answer and he lifts his head to be met with those eyes, bright and angry again at his denied request.

"What do you mean no? You- you bastard-"

Eret rucks his hips, grinding their clothed erections together, and Snotlout's cursing breaks into a breathy gasp as he thumps his head against the floor, tilting it with his eyes as they roll to the back of his skull. In his own pleasure, Eret grunts and admires the exposed throat before him, pale and mapped out with rosy streams of dried blood. Lowering his head, he runs his mouth along the arching curve of Snotlout's throat, his teeth travelling along the pulsing arteries like a threatening blade, Eret could rip out his throat right now and Snotlout would thank him for it. It is a powerful feeling.

He places a kiss, feather-light, on his Adam's apple before lifting himself, freeing one of his hands so he can bring it to Snotlout's chin. Again, they are face to face. Eret is delighted to see a flush fanning across his cheeks and a wanton look glossing his beautiful eyes. They really are beautiful, how has he never noticed them before? It's like he's just seen the moon in the sky for the first time. So pale, so haunting, so strange.

"I don't do hate fucking," He clarifies to Snotlout, voice purposeful and concise, and the response he gets is a forceful huff and an irritated eye roll, manageable enough. A smirk of his own stretches across his face as he tilts his head, eyes ablaze with mischief as he snarks; "I'm only into love making,"

A great laugh explodes from Snotlout's throat and it fills the cabin with a rich, balmy atmosphere that oozes deep into Eret's skin, into his bones, into his heart, it is not a sound he will easily forget. This isn't a sarcastic or mocking cackle, but a genuine laugh that Eret has only heard briefly in unshared moments. If thunder could laugh, it would be this.

"Shut the fuck up," Snotlout chuckles roughly, crinkled eyes looking up at him with mirth and Eret is aware of arms circling around his shoulders, bringing his face closer to Snotlout's.

"Shut the fuck up," He whispers again, voice silken and unchaste, and Eret is drawn into a shameless make out session that draws on till their lungs are aching from lack of breath.

They stare and pant like rabid dogs and there has never been a better feeling than this. This reckless desire, this violent delight, this bloody kiss, those brilliant eyes, that mad smile. No night has ever left him feeling so much. Eret notices that Snotlout is still covered in blood, blood that he spilt, and he rubs his thumb into the drying maroon crust beneath his nose.

"Get up," He says simply as he rises onto his feet and Snotlout makes a barely-audible whine when the hot weight on his lap disappears, gazing up at him from the floor with this lustful yet somehow also tired look in his eyes.

"Can't you just fuck me here?" He groans, sitting up onto his elbows and rolling his neck, and, Gods above, it's all about fucking with him, isn't it? Not that Eret can blame him, by the straining in his pants, he's just as eager as the shorter man.

"It's not love making if you're on the floor and covered blood," Eret retorts smartly, a grin tugging his lips as he offers his red-touched hand to Snotlout, "Now, get up and go clean your face,"

With a bemused snort, Snotlout takes his hand and is easily lifted to his feet. They don't let go of each other straight away and when he looks down at their hands, he sees that they are both flaking with dried blood. Snotlout's blood. It's a strange moment, almost like time has slowed, up until Snotlout's hand slips from his, dark blood-dust grating from their calloused fingers.

"Um, there's a wash basin in my room," Eret states, trying to dislodge his heart from his throat as he leads Snotlout to where his room is, their shoulders brushing as they walk through the doorway.

The copper basin resides on top of the dresser besides his bed and he refills it with clean water everyday, a thing of habit his mum drilled into him as a child.

It's quickly tainted from a shimmering clear to a murky pink as Snotlout splashes water on his face, the diluted blood from his nose and lips slipping through his fingers into the dish. Eret averts his eyes from that glistening skin and concentrates on scrubbing the dusty blood from his hand, the skin of his middle knuckle has split slightly and stings against his rubbing hand. All he can here is the tranquil movement of water and the echoey beat of his heart.

Briefly, he looks to the Rider beside him and notices that there's still blood on his neck, neighbouring with the gold-glinting streams of water droplets. With a face no longer shining with blood and madness, but with water and calmness, Snotlout looks like something from a soft dream and it leaves Eret's mouth dry and pulse running. He swallows, unsure what to do other than stare.

But the longer he stares, the more that calmness shifts in a restlessness that's writhing deep within, barely controlled, barely holding back. He should just give Snotlout what he wants, a quick shag, in and out business as it were, but there was something about that madness in those eyes that tells Eret a swift fuck isn't what Snotlout needs. Sure, it's what he wants, but it's not what he needs.

"Here," He says as he brings a wet cloth to Snotlout's throat, who asks what he's doing through wide, almost angry eyes.

"You've got blood on your neck," Eret clarifies for him, sponging the rag along the fading lines lightly and he can see Snotlout's artery thumping rapidly against the wet skin, it does a strange thing to his gut.

Snotlout turns to face him, head up but tilted to the side with his lips pressed together in a frustrated sort of expression, like this gentle act is an annoying inconvenience. Eret finds it both amusing and terrifying how quickly Snotlout's moods change, from wrathful to deranged to seductive to... Embarrassed? Is that it? He has no idea, but it must be painful to feel so many things at once.

To be honest, he feels a bit light headed himself from the quick changes the atmosphere has taken in the last half hour. The tone in the air currently feels domestic-like, with a hint of apprehension.

"Fucking Hel, stop," Snotlout brutally bats Eret's hand away and looks up at him with a firm, determined face, "Stop with the- the- the foreplay and just-"

In a moment of great confidence, Eret mercilessly rams Snotlout against the dresser and takes hold of the hair on the back of his head, yanking unkindly until Snotlout's throat is completely bared and his eyes are locked with his. There are no gaps between them. Their heaving chests are pressed together so closely that they can feel each other's pounding hearts and Eret presses his leg firmly between Snotlout's legs. A poorly restrained groan comes forth as Snotlout melts like butter in his heated embrace.

"Just what? Fuck you?" Eret growls and those blue eyes glow like a prayer in the candlelight as he faintly nods against the force of Eret's hold, Adam's apple bobbing through a swallowed breath.

"Yeah? You want me to be bend you over, fuck you till I'm done and throw you out, hmm? That's what you want?"

A hotness sweeps along Eret as he watches the submissiveness in Snotlout's eyes grow, his mouth dropping open at those dirty words, at that foul desire.

"Yes, Eret- Fuck yes, do- fucking that," Snotlout drawls breathlessly, a moan colouring his voice as his hair is pulled, legs spreading so Eret can ruck his knee up higher.

And Eret concludes that this, this is the prettiest thing he's ever seen and the power that consumes him is addicting, because it is no simple task to get a Viking Warrior like Snotlout to beg. Proud, fire-blooded Snotlout who now leans against him trembling and begging like a desperate whore.

Eret grins, mean and sharp, as he brings his mouth close to Snotlout's, their lips touching in a open-mouthed kiss that has yet to start.

"Well, too bad," He says in a low voice, lips brushing with each word, and Snotlout stares up at him with begging eyes that almost made Eret reconsider his choice.

But he doesn't.

So, he removes his leg, releases the harsh grip on his hair and slightly backs up so Snotlout has more breathing room. But he keeps his face close, keeps their lips touching and swallows the complaint working on Snotlout's tongue with the vigor of a gentle man. It's one of those kisses that leave you light headed from the softness. Snotlout's hands are frozen in mid air like he's never touched a person before and Eret takes them, holds them, feels the tremors in them and wonders what's so terrifying about tenderness. It's a quiet kiss, a quiet kiss in the quiet night.

They part only slightly to catch a reprieve, lips still touching as they inhale the moment, as they wallow in the balmy warmth of this strange but comforting moment. To think that they were at each other's throats not so long ago. It beggers belief. With closed eyes, Eret trails his mouth along Snotlout's jaw and down his throat, kissing and sucking at the dewy skin with a gentle passion because this is all his tonight, all his to feast on, and he shall savour this taste.

"We'll do this slowly, okay?" Eret mumbles into the crook of his neck, a heavy pulse against his lips, "I am going to fuck you, Snotlout, but I'm gonna do it slowly-"

Eret brings his mouth up until it's right under Snotlout's ear, teeth nibbling at the sensitive flesh and making the Rider's body tremble excitedly.

"-I'm gonna make it feel so good for you," he whispers headily into his ear and his abdomen tightens at the pitched, needy keen that slips from Snotlout's mouth.

"Okay- okay, just- Damn you, Eret, you can fuck me slowly! Just get me to the bed quickly!" Snotlout rasps, caught between desperation and frustration, and Eret can't stop the laugh from bubbling out as he throws his head back.

It's Snotlout this time who goes in for the kiss and it's all teeth and tongue, all hunger and thirst, all the things that Eret associates with a starved man. Starved of touch and tenderness, Eret too feels the cramp of desire. It has been too long.

Thick fingers pull loose the strings of his scaled vest and Eret grins into the kiss, moving his hands from Snotlout's hips to the hem of his vest as he steps back so he can pull it over his head. Dropping it to the floor, he watches as Snotlout gazes with an open appreciation at his bare torso, tongue wetting his lips as he runs his hands down his muscular chest. It leaves Eret's heart thumping wildly and a hotness creeps along his face at the touch, an admiring almost worshipping touch that is so very foreign to him.

"You're... Hot," Snotlout drawls lowly, half-lidded eyes and calloused hands trailing from his pecs to his abs, fingers just brushing over the teasing trail of hair on his abdomen. It sends shivers down his spine.

"I know," He replies confidently, though he can’t quite hide the quiver in his voice.

He knows he's attractive and he is frequently reminded of it, which does not help his ego, but the few men he has been with have always been a bit hesitant in the face of that bold brand on his chest. They've always given it a weary look, kept their hands close and guarded lest they get burnt themselves, treated him as if he's something wounded. He knows he's handsome, but that scar turns that confidence into loathing because it's so ugly and wrong, so evil to him. It's tainted him, it's marked him, it's labelled him.

SLAVE BOY! COWARD BOY! HE RUNS AWAY, SELFISH BOY! MURDERER! TRAPPER! SLAVE! ALWAYS A SLAVE, FREEDOM IS A JOKE AND NO ONE IS LAUGHING!

But Snotlout seems unhindered by it, trailing his fingers along the outline of the furrowed, pink scar with a curious, admiring touch that leaves Eret breathless. He expected a cringe or a hesitant hand, but Snotlout almost seems drawn to his many scars, like a moth in a room of candles. Hands palming and fingers tracing the wicked lines along his toned stomach, his broad shoulders, his exposed collarbone.

He is a marked man. A slave to a greedy country, a slave to a mad man, a slave to violence. He is marked by each and every one of his masters and forever he will be reminded that freedom was a dish never served to him. It was a dish he stole. No longer is he a slave, but there is something missing in his freedom and he doesn’t know what.

"I thought you wanted to get a move on," Eret mumbles with an almost strained voice and Snotlout looks up at him, golden from candle-flames and still glistening from water, he looks like dew at dawn.

"I thought you wanted to slow down," Snotlout retorts back, hands rubbing up and down his chest, and he grins smartly up at him, "What? I'm allowed to touch you, aren't I?"

"Y-yeah, of course- I-"

Expelling a deep sigh, Eret ducks his head and ensnares Snotlout into a passionate kiss, no longer wanting to talk. Despite his charm, Eret finds words difficult at times and sometimes actions speak far more clearly in certain situations.

Snotlout doesn't seem to mind, the shorter gladly returning the kiss with just as much vigour.

There is something about kissing Snotlout that feels very filling, like eating your heart out after months of rationing on a ship. Perhaps he's been starving this whole time. Even after all these years a freedom, there's still a hole in his gut but it doesn't feel so empty right now, with Snotlout's hands on his chest, lips on his lips, heart on his heart.

Perhaps this is truly freedom.

"My turn," Eret whispers against his lips, delving his fingers beneath Snotlout's shirt and feeling the hot skin beneath.

"Wait," Snotlout breathes, taking hold of his wrists, and Eret looks down at him with an almost anxious look, afraid that he's going too fast with this, despite that being what Snotlout wanted.

Snotlout swallows thickly, eyes blue and uneasy as they flicker between Eret's face and his hands, half hidden beneath his vest. The skin there feels strange and oddly familiar though, he can't quite pinpoint what, but his fingers move briefly over raised marks.

"Just... don't ask questions or... Give me any pity, okay? Just... Ignore them,"

Them? Ignore what? And pity? Eret isn't a pitying man, he knows how weak it makes you feel, he'd be a hypocrite to do so. But why would Snotlout warrant any pity? He doesn't quite understand, but he does as he's told and doesn't ask any questions.

"Alright," he agrees with an honest voice and Snotlout then nods his head, lower lip caught between his teeth.

Eret takes hold of the hem of Snotlout's shirt and pulls it off, discarding it behind him before turning back to the Rider.

At first, he doesn't react at all. Not physically, anyway. But his mind screams-

Oh Gods, oh Gods, there's so much, they're everywhere, oh Gods, how is he alive? No one could survive this, he's a corpse, oh Gods he's been kissing a dead man because no one could possibly survive this!

Snotlout's entire torso is the home of hundreds, and by the Gods, he means hundreds, of ivory scars. They're all raised and twisted and cruel-looking, like crooked grins etched into his skin that mock and laugh. They shine against the candlelight and most of them are so overlapped, that they look like just one awfully huge scar. These are lashes, whip lashes, Eret is all too familiar with these scars for he has his own set on his back but nothing like this. Nothing like this graveyard that resides upon Snotlout's flesh.

Drago gave him fifteen lashes and a branding that day, as well as a thorough beating from his henchmen. Since then, Eret had been able to avoid punishment and failure out of pure dread of what would happen if he failed again. Perhaps this is what would've happened, perhaps he would've mauled and marred and... Marked.

He wants to ask who (what) did this to you? Why did they do this? When? How are you still alive? How are you still standing with the weight of the scars that mark you?

But he says none of these things because Snotlout asked him to and even if he'd been given permission to, his breath has been stolen from him anyways. He cannot simply ignore them, though. These hundred echoes of a hundred agonies, if scars could speak, they would be screaming. How are you not screaming? How are you still so brave?

Eret steps forth and Snotlout's eyes, hauntingly bright, stare at him with a hidden shame within them that Eret sees clearly. He nearly mistakes that shame for his own. Lowering his head, he kisses Snotlout's shoulder and licks along a nasty scar that bends over his shoulder to his back. He makes the mistake of opening his eyes and he sees that there are a hundred more vicious wounds defacing his back. He could be sick, he really could be, that's why he closes his eyes again.

"Eret," Snotlout gasps, blunt teeth biting down onto that raised line as hands map out and feel along the almost inhuman terrain of Snotlout's body.

Eret touches each scar with a great tenderness, devoting his hands to the gentle caresses along his chest and stomach, his sides and back. All scarred, all layered with the ghosts of torture because what else could this be? There's nothing worse than this, Eret thinks, death is kinder than this. He kisses the thick scars criss-crossed on Snotlout's chest and massages the sunken marring on his waist and sides with his hands, trying to get Snotlout to understand that he's here to touch him softly, gently, tenderly.

You will not be harmed here, he reassures with his lips against his scar-streaked collarbone, I will hold you right now and will only let you go if you ask me to, he promises with his hands pressed against his mauled spine.

"Eret, can we..." The request goes unsaid, but Eret understands and finally decides that Snotlout has waited long enough. They both have.

Wrapping his arms under his thighs, Eret easily lifts Snotlout off his feet and his heart grows with the shocked sound Snotlout makes as he circles his thick arms around his neck. Eret chuckles and Snotlout lets out a breathy laugh, cursing him quietly. After a few steps, he gently lies him onto the bed and crawls over him, their noses touching as Eret settles between his legs. Their clothed erections press against each other and they simultaneously groan, that hot want kindling again in their guts.

With Snotlout beneath him, Eret feels that power again.

"I'm gonna make you feel so good," Eret promises headily against his mouth, hands fiddling with hem of Snotlout's trousers.

"You better get on with it then," Snotlout growls, baring his teeth before diving in for a violent kiss and Eret takes this as his final warning.

In an almost animalistic fashion, he tears Snotlout's trousers and underclothes off in one powerful tug and grins into the kiss at the surprised sound Snotlout makes in his throat. And that grin only grows when he wraps his hand around Snotlout's cock, the Rider breaking the kiss with a gasp as Eret skilfully pulls him apart. Bless him, he tries to hold it in with clenched teeth and pressed lips but the sounds still resonate through his throat and, though they are muffled, they are terribly pretty.

The sounds he pulls from him are almost enough for Eret to go over the edge himself to be honest, he's never heard such surrender in his life. But he made a promise to fuck Snotlout and he isn't going to let this opportunity pass him by because he can't control himself. With one last tug, Eret releases Snotlout and silences that arguing whine with an encouraging press of his fingers against his mouth, leathery pads brushing against the scabbed lips. Snotlout, quick to understand, opens his mouth and swallows two of Eret’s digits and its an image that he couldn’t have come up with even in his most wildest dreams. Yet here it is, here he is, atop a mad rival with his fingers delving down his throat as he makes the most lewd noises Eret has ever heard. Gods, he can feel those sounds.

After a steamy moment, Eret replaces his now-slick fingers with an open-mouthed kiss and brings his hand down to Snotlout’s entrance. His finger slips in nice and easy, causing Snotlout to groan lowly as pulls back from the kiss, spit on his lips while he tucks his head into Eret's throat, biting and kissing passionately.

"Good, yeah?" Eret murmurs with a wicked grin, adding another finger, and he can feel how hot Snotlout's skin gets as he nods into the crook of his neck.

He gasps, high-pitched and pretty, hips rising as Eret hooks his fingers inside him, teeth digging into his shoulder in an attempt to stop himself from voicing his pleasure.

And again, he is full of this incredible power as he pumps his fingers inside him, watching Snotlout sharply as he drops his head back down to the furs with a strangled moan. He pulls his lower lip with his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut, like the pleasure is bordering on agony. It's not enough, he needs more, and who is Eret to deny him that?

Once he's satisfied with how loose he is, Eret rises onto his knees and unties the strings of his trousers, pulling out his heavy cock with an apprehensive rumble in his chest. His blood bubbles like boiling water and he feels feral when he looks at Snotlout, sprawled below him with this vulnerability bared freely. He trusts you, he's baring his throat to you, Gods, he asking you to tear it out and you would, you will, you'd do it again and again only if he asked you to and he's laying here, asking!

Eret, hungry like a winter-born beast, takes hold of the back Snotlout's thighs and presses his muscled legs to his flushed chest, putting his weight on them at he leans over him. Snotlout's eyes are stunningly bright and he gazes deep into them, looking, searching, hunting. He's never wanted something so much in his life and by God's, if Snotlout lets him do this it just might kill him.

"Snotlout," he says his name softly, contrasting the hard grip on his thighs, the starved look in his eyes, the urgent press of his cock.

It's a question. Can I do this? Will you let me take your body, take your throat, take your heart? Can I touch you like you're a forgotten god who wasn't worshipped as you should've been? Can I do that? Will you let me?

And Snotlout sighs, deep and honest, like an answer. Yes, yes, yes. Forever yes.

With a blaze in his veins, Eret presses his hips forward and the overwhelming feeling of hot, wet, tight strikes him dumb for a few moments, black stars dancing in his eyes as he presses his forehead against Snotlout's. He vaguely registers his own drawn out moan as he stares, awe-struck, at the open-mouthed and closed-eyed expression on Snotlout's face. It is a look of pure, blinding bliss that looks so damn pretty on this irritating, fire-blooded Viking Warrior that has been Hel-bent on frustrating him beyond all belief. It is burned into his memory for all time and he begs that he'll remember it when he dies.

"Fuck," Eret gasps lowly, fingers flexing around the muscle on Snotlout's under thighs as he bottoms out, their hips connecting as if they've become one person.

In a moment of curiosity, he looks down and his panting breath is stolen once more as he sees Snotlout's thighs. Ripped and raised with scars. In a moment where he forgets everything else, he sits back and let's Snotlout's legs stretch out alongside his hips, fully revealing the extent of the scarring. Snotlout, still gasping from the fullness of Eret's cock buried inside him, has yet to realise what he has noticed.

Eret runs his hands up and down those marred thighs with a doting gentleness that he feels they've been starved of. He's never seen someone so damaged before, it looks like someone tore him apart and left him alone with nothing but a ball of string and a blunt needle, left him alone to sew himself whole again. Curling a hand around Snotlout's ankle, he lifts his leg till it's on his shoulder and kisses tenderly at the also scarred tissue of his calf, as if someone had repeatedly struck the back of his legs with a sharp-sided stick.

"Ere-" It's the beginning of a complaint, bitter and angry, but Eret easily cuts it off with a few shallow thrusts of his hips, still kissing his ankle and calf.

Snotlout tilts his head back, an almost shocked keen jumping from his throat as Eret rocks into him, still being gentle as not to cause any discomfort. Though, he can't lie, it's hard for him not pound violently into the gorgeous heat that's making his gut coil and spine shake. Snotlout wants it violent, wants it dirty and foul and angry, but Eret, as stated, doesn't do hate sex and no amount of surprised punches or provoking jeering will ever change that. He's a gentleman.

"Fuck- harder,"

Or he was a gentlemen, because there is something about Snotlout begging Eret to fuck him harder that brings out a ferocious thing from deep within. A gentleman, still, but there is something wild inside him that Snotlout has tapped into.

Eret covers Snotlout's body with his, knee to his chest and leg over his shoulder as he fucks deep and hard into him. It's like there’s nothing but this outrageous hunger churning in his gut and Snotlout is this gorgeous feast sprawled out just for him, like he's this deer with its neck open and Eret is this ravenous wolf.

And being this hungry dog, Eret takes his teeth to Snotlout's throat and feels the thrumming of blood beneath his tongue. Snotlout moans and writhes and pants, one hand balled in the furs and the other curled around his nape, tangled in his loose hair. The room is full of the sound of slapping skin and dirty moans and desperate breaths, the bed creaking slightly underneath it all. It is the sound of sex, of pleasure, of primal desire.

"So fucking good, Snotlout, so fucking good," Eret growls into Snotlout's hot skin as he fucks firm into the Rider, his muscles burning and skin glistening with sweat.

"Oh fuuuuck," Snotlout drawls out in a loud moan, eyes rolling and mouth snarling, and it takes Eret a moment to realise that he came, sudden and hard, between their bodies.

"Oh fuck, fuck, oh Gods, Eret," he babbles breathlessly, body shivering and flushed and limp as Eret continues to pound zealously into him, his own climax rushing him as he's enveloped in this unimaginable tightness.

"I'm gonna-" Snotlout doesn't give him time to finish, his strong hands clutching fiercely at the hair on the back of head and dragging his face down to his.

"Yeah, yeah, go on, give it to me, fuck, Eret, cum inside me you fucking bastard," Snotlout pants wantonly, lips pressed against his in a not-quite-kiss, bright, teary eyes gazing into his with this feral madness that, for the smallest second, scares Eret.

Briefly, he thinks, oh no, I've made a fool's mistake and put my dick in crazy.

But it snaps out of mind as his orgasm leaps upon him and all he can do is groan against Snotlout's open-mouthed grin, body trembling as he ruts through this mind-numbing climax. His body is on fire and Gods he's dying, living has never felt this good, nothing has ever felt this damn good.

It feels like hours, but it must have only been a few minutes, before the wildfire in his veins simmers down and Eret is half collapsed on top of Snotlout, elbows planted besides his head and chest pressed against his, their hearts singing to each other as they wallow in the afterglow.

He opens his eyes and stares, half in disbelief, half in awe, at the foreign expression on Snotlout’s face. Eret is used to the quirked grin during dinner or the irritated scowl that is commonly directed at him, the quiet sternness seen in serious moments or, though he has only seen it briefly, the unbridled bloodlust that breaks through on the battlefield. But the face below him now is neither of these, nor one of the recently discovered faces of Snotlout (madness, rage, lust, mad-lust, shame), it is something that Eret can only name as pure, unfiltered content and it suits him terribly well, especially with that bright flush on his cheeks and those shimmering tearstains streaking down the sides of his face. Perhaps, perhaps this is the prettiest thing; dream-like, gold-kissed, gently-touched.

Eret falls to the bed besides Snotlout with a satisfied exhale, feeling good and warm on both the inside and outside, like there is a candle kindled within him. He doesn’t trouble himself with the thoughts of tomorrow or of repercussions because he is simply far too tired for such thoughts, there’s no need to ruin a good moment while you’re having one. It’s the same kind of tired that you get after a big meal and he certainly has feasted tonight.

Lazily, he turns his head to Snotlout and there is this sudden, unspeakable feeling in his chest when he looks at him, eyes closed and lips parted, not asleep but just… resting, with no guard or façade protecting his features. Again, it’s Snotlout saying he trusts him and Eret has no idea how he earned that trust but he’s not a fool, he won’t throw that trust away. Perhaps this is Snotlout handing him an olive branch, saying in this crazy, sexy way of his that he doesn’t hate him, that they can be friends. Passionate friends are better than bitter rivals.

And Eret falls asleep like that, watching the steady movement of Snotlout’s chest, counting the wicked scars on his ribs, devouring the image of those split lips that Eret can still taste in the back of his mouth (blood, iron, lightning).

Later that night, Eret is woken by the sound of moving feet and ruffling clothes. The dream of cracked ice and calloused hands and a bleeding heart quickly slip from his memory like smoke through his hands but the sluggishness of sleep clings to him longingly, so much so that he struggles simply to open his eyes. When he does, it’s dark and shadowy, the candles all snuffed out, and he has difficultly trying to identify the source of those sounds. He pats his hand onto the other side of the bed, expecting to feel Snotlout’s body, but there are only disturbed furs laying there. Ah, he understands.

“Snotlout?” He slurs into the dark, sleep heavy on his mind, and the noises stop suddenly.

When his eyes finally adjust to the darkness, he’s met with the shadow-touched figure of Snotlout stood beside his bed, trousers on and tunic in hand, pale eyes watching him. He swears they were blue, they’ve always been blue, but right now, gods, they look like they’re white and glowing, like an animal’s eyes catching the moonlight, like two stars standing side by side. Eyes shouldn’t be so bright yet so haunted, they’re like ghost eyes.

“Are you a ghost?” He wants to ask, because he should be, with all those scars, he should be dead and maybe he did die but he’s lost, doesn’t know if he belongs in Valhalla or Hel because he’s got the heart of a warrior but the mind of a mad man.

“What you doing?” He asks instead, because Snotlout is no ghost, Eret has cradled his heart and held his body. You cannot touch ghosts, it’s a well-known fact.

“Go back to sleep, Eret,” Snotlout says and there is a faint softness in his voice that he almost misses, the biting tone his name is usually spat with now replaced with this indulgent whisper that sounds, not warm, but not cold either. Lukewarm.

“Where you going?” Eret murmurs back, rubbing the sleep-dust from his left eye as he watches the shorter tighten the strings of his trousers with the other.

“Home,” Snotlout replies back bluntly, that warmer voice iced down back to its cold familiar self, and Eret groans tiredly.

“It’s not even dawn, come back to bed,” He reasons, voice still deep and hoarse from sleep, his words barely coherent.

He hears Snotlout sigh frustratedly and vaguely sees the harsh rise and fall of his broad shoulders, eyes closed and face pinched in irritation. He’s reacting as if Eret’s just proposed the most outrageous offer to him and it rises the smallest amount of annoyance in him, but he’s far too tired to fully register the feeling, let alone act upon it, so instead he follows the negotiation route. Which will be poor due to his lethargic state, but he’s persuasive and has bargained tougher trades while drunk.

“Don’t be a git,” He murmurs, patting the empty space beside him, “Come. Sleep,”

“Shut up, sailor,” Snotlout grunts with no bite in his voice, just tiredness, “Shut up and go to sleep,”

With a sudden swell of courage and frustration, Eret leans across the bed and takes Snotlout’s hand into, his grip loose enough for Snotlout to pull from if he really wants to but tight enough to show he’s being sincere, even if he’s just half-asleep. Both of their hands are calloused from gruelling battles and hard labour and strenuous training and he can feel the rigid patches of old burn scars on Snotlout’s palm, a common marking found on this island where everyone rides a fire-breathing beast. Even Eret’s got his own collection.

“Snotlout,” His voice comes out soft and meaningful, “Come back to bed,”

And Snotlout stares down at him with those eyes, those moon-drowned eyes, and it’s a stern, searching look, the same look he makes when he’s trying to figure out if an enemy is either being truthful or deceptive and Eret has yet to see Snotlout’s perception (or gut) to be proven wrong. Even in this half-awoken state, Eret feels his skin crawl and there’s a coldness in his chest, like his soul is retracting from the stark, glacial stare, he feels like he’s being judged. Is this what it’s like to be judged by a ghost?

Snotlout closes his eyes (much to Eret’s relief) and expels a long sigh through his flaring nostrils, faintly resembling Hookfang when he blows smoke from his nose. When he opens his eyes again, they’re blue and Eret is far too tired to think about it. But his heart leaps gleefully when he feels Snotlout squeeze his hand and Eret squeezes back unconsciously.

“Budge,” Snotlout orders, jutting his chin towards him, but Eret, so full of pride that he past Snotlout’s cunning gaze and convinced him to come back to sleep, is already tugging the shorter onto the bed.

“Oi!” Snotlout tries to abject, but by the time he starts his head is already being pressed against the curve of the sailor’s neck and Eret has already wrapped his arms around his waist and side, both of them lying chest to chest, both of their hearts giggling together.

“Shut up, rider,” Eret grumbles sleepily, pressing his proud grin into the tasselled hair on Snotlout’s head, “Shut up and go to sleep,”

Soon Eret feels arms reluctantly swathing around his ribcage, as if their cradling the cage of his heart, and then a face nestling against his throat, it almost feels like a tender mouth ready to rip it out. Again, he hears Snotlout sigh and its neither tired nor irritated, it’s a content sigh, a gentle exhale. Eret lightly brushes his knuckles over the warm skin of Snotlout’s shoulder in an easing gesture, a voiceless lullaby, and despite his sleepiness, he does this even after Snotlout has fallen asleep.

Eret just lies there on this quiet night, feeling Snotlout’s heart beating against his, feeling very full, very whole, very free.

[fallingfor-fics]

Teachers Pet-chapter 33: Remus

All chapters 

Chapter 32

I had been letting myself sleep in as long as possible not only for the rest, but to help pass the time. I usually woke up around ten sometimes eleven depending on how late I had stayed up, but today my brain had other plans. I wake awake bright and early at five o'clock. I had only just gone to bed four hours ago so I figured I would be sleeping till noon, but unfortunately I was woken up by a dream. Most would call it a dream, but I called it a nightmare. 

Because it was  a dream about me being married with kids, except I was married to Severus, not that I hate the idea, I just didn't need to be reminded of how that's never gonna happen. And of course my body loves to do this thing where once I'm awake, I can't go back to sleep. So I decided to just get up now and start my day early. I took my time showering, I even did a hair and a face mask, shaved, and styled my hair without magic, just to pass the time. I took my time figuring out what to wear and I even did eye shadow with my makeup. I brushed out my shirt adding a belt to my waist and looked out the window. The sun had started to rise and peak over the forest line. I looked at the clock and dropped my shoulders when I saw it was only six. "You have got to be kidding me, no way I did all of that in an hour." I said to myself. I was glad all my roommates went home for break, this allowed me some freedom to talk to myself and walk around in my underwear. I grabbed my coat, wand, and Lolita and headed out to walk around. I didn't really have a plan on where I was going to go, but i'd figure it out as I went.

I exited my dormitory and walked into the common room, I hadn't seen many Slytherins that stayed but every now and then we would cross paths in here. I walked out and down the hall not seeing anyone in the halls. It was kind of eerie being awake while the sun was just starting to rise, the school was so empty and quiet. I looked out a window as I passed by and saw the sunrise glistening over the lake, light hitting the water and the surrounding snow. I smiled at the sight and made my way outside. The snow crunched under my boots as I walked over to a bench that sat along the pathway. I sat down on it looking at the lake that was sparkling from the sun's reflection. A cloud of air could be seen every time I breathed out and I could feel my nose getting red. I really loved when it was cold out and there was snow on the ground, I wouldn't have come out here if it was snowing though that would mean it was too cold to come and read. And I could feel the warmth of the sun slowly stretching across my face and hands, spreading warmth on my cheeks. It was so beautiful I couldn't believe I went to school here. I barely even thought of Beauxbatons anymore. I smiled and opened up my book, unfolding the corner as I began to read.

About thirty minutes later I lifted my head from the book, hearing a noise, I looked to my left and saw the noise was the crunching of the snow under the new professor's feet. "Hello." I said smiling as he walked over, hands in his pockets, "Hello Y/n what are you doing out here this early?" he smiled looking out at the lake. "I woke up early and couldn't go back to sleep so I came out here to read." I said scooching over so he could sit next to me. He smiled and sat down on the bench. "What about you?" I asked as I looked back to my book. "Oh just an early morning walk. I also could not sleep." I nodded and folded the corner of my page closing my book, "What are you reading?" he asked motioning to my book, I felt my cheeks redden a bit and looked at him and then back at my book. "Um this book called Lolita." I said smiling awkwardly. He hummed in response nodding his head with a smile. "Have you read it?" I asked, nervous of his response, I don't know why I was freaking out I mean there are so many books Im sure no one has actually read this, and even if they have its not like I support every decision made in it, but it is a bit awkward.  "No, I've just heard  of it." he smiled. We sat for a moment in silence, "So I hear you're a werewolf." I said chuckling lightly at the silly statement I made. He tensed up and bit and looked down at me, "And what leads you to think that." he asked in a bit more of a serious tone, but with a small smile. "Oh nothing just rumours, i'm only teasing." I said playfully, resting a hand on his arm in reassurance, he laughed along shifting in his spot. "Unless you are one, if that's the case then you are indeed way cooler than the last teacher." I joked, he reddened in the face a bit and smiled, "I can assure you I do not grow a tail." he assured me, laughing along. We sat and got to know each other more, he was a really sweet man and I could easily see myself being friends with him. We oddly had a lot in common too, we liked the same artists and movies, he even mentioned how he himself was not too potion savvy. We joked about many failed experiences in the subject.

"So If you went to school here, does that mean you went here with Severus? I mean Professor Snape." I said, shaking my head correcting myself. He sat up straight for a moment and looked out at the lake, he sighed and nodded his head. "Yes I did actually, we were in the same grade." he said, his face softening and his smile slowly fading a bit. I noticed the change in posture and tone and looked at him confused.  "Well what was he like? Was he mean like he is now? Did he bully you?" I asked trying to figure out why his energy shifted. He took a moment and cleared his throat. "No, not exactly." I kept my gaze on him, examining his facial expressions. "Did you guys fight or something?" I pried. "Yes you could say that, I had a group of friends, and two of us Sirius and James liked to pick on him often, I would try to convince them to leave Severus alone, but they'd never listen." he said leaning over and resting his elbow on his knees. Taken aback I looked away from him and to the lake. "That's horrible, what would they do to him?" I asked curiously. He took a moment pondering on what to say, "They would pick on him for being in Slytherin and would call him names and such." he confessed. I frowned and looked down at my hands. "Oh." I said quietly. "But Severus was a loner and he wasn't perfect either, but it's really not my place. James never really gave him a chance though, he bullied him from the start and would do it for fun and out of boredom sometimes." he added. I nodded and looked around at the snowy landscape thinking about it.

This would make a lot of sense as to why Severus was so cruel, he clearly had a hard life. It hurt my heart to think about him just trying to go about his day and some obnoxious boys decide to hurt him. I could almost cry at the thought and blinked hard to try and erase the thoughts from my mind. "But what did Snape ever do to them?" I asked, already predicting the answer. "Nothing. He was just a wallflower, associated himself with the dark arts and the wrong people and James saw him as an easy target." he admitted looking down at his feet. "Did they ever apologize? Or befriend him?" I also already knew this answer, "No, James died and Sirius was locked up." he said sadly, I rested a hand on his leg and smiled, "I'm sorry, even though they were bullies, I'm sure they were good friends of yours." I said kindly, "Thank you, they were, but i'm not sure if they would have even attempted to make amends, nor do I think Severus would have any interest in doing so either."  he said honestly, "Is Sirius still in Azkaban?" I asked, hoping I wasn't overstepping, I noticed a shift in his eyes when I mentioned the man's name. "No he got out a few years ago and is living in London." he said smiling. I could see a look in his eyes, I searched the blue spheres and tried to identify the look, "Does he have a family?" I asked trying to talk about him more, "No not really. I'm kind of all he's got left." his eyes flashed with a bit of sadness but stayed sparkling on the thought of the man, I smiled to myself when I realized why I recognized the look in his eyes. It was because it was the very same look I had when thinking about Severus. I didn't say anything because I didn't want to make him uncomfortable so I just nodded in response.

I looked at his hand and noticed he didn't have a ring on his finger and looked up at him trying to figure out why he wasn't married. He was so nice and funny and handsome something didn't add up. "Why aren't you married? I mean a handsome man such as yourself you would think would have a partner and kids and stuff." I questioned cautiously, trying not to overstep. He laughed and blushed a bit, sitting up and leaning back on the bench, "I'm not sure, I just haven't met the right person I suppose." I nodded in agreement and just then I spotted a few students walking around inside. "I guess everyone's waking up, breakfast will start soon, wanna walk with me?" I asked politely, standing up and grabbing my book. He nodded and stood up as well, following beside me as we walked back inside the warm building and headed to the great hall. "So why are you here now? Why didn't you come when everyone else comes back from break?" I asked as we walked through the halls. "I guess I just wanted to get my room in order and hang out a bit in the school, it's a very nostalgic feeling, being back." he shared as we walked into the Great hall. We stopped at the staff table to finish up our conversation, I looked up behind him and noticed a dark professor glaring down at us, I furrowed my brows slightly, wondering why he would be so upset about this, but then I remembered what Remus had said, and although Remus maybe didn't participate he was still a bystander, and i'm sure Severus still held that against him, I smiled a little to myself thinking about how I could use this to my advantage. "Okay well I will catch you later at the firework show, it was lovely getting to know you and talk." I said smiling up at Remus, I kindly rested a hand on his arm and looked over to the now tense and fuming Severus, I could practically almost see the steam coming off of him, to anyone else he would look normal, but I could see it in his eyes, and his place fist he had clenched. I didn't understand why he was getting so angry with me fraternizing with Remus, he said so himself he didn't care about me that way.

When I looked back at Remus as he said his goodbye I could have sworn I felt a tug in my mind, a very familiar tug, like someone trying to pry their way in. Remus walked away and up to his seat, which was thankfully far from Severus, and I shot Snape a glare, I knew he was the only one that would be remotely interested in my thoughts and the look in his eyes only confirmed my suspicions. Two can play at this game I thought to myself as I slowly went and sat down where Luna and I had sat yesterday. I wasn't as good as him obviously and had just barely learned how to read thoughts without my wand. But I stared him down trying to get into his mind, it wasn't about reading his thoughts, it was more about making him aware he got sloppy and wasn't undetected in his attempt to read mine, I just needed to ensure he felt it. Which he confirmed when his eyes went from anger to hostility and then back to anger. I stopped my attempts and he glowered at me, I smiled and waved sarcastically and turned to the blonde girl that approached me and sat down. "Having a staring contest with Professor Snape or something?" she said, teasing me a bit. "What? No. I was just waving to the new teacher, I haven't got a clue why Snapes glaring over at me." I lied, which I felt bad doing, but Hermione and Draco were the only ones that knew of my feelings for Snape and I planned on keeping it that way.

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[hvitserkmarcosource]

The Arrangement

Chapter Ten: The Start of Something Good

Warnings: None (Warnings will be updated for each chapter, so make sure you read them!)

Chapter Ten Summary: Your arrival back to Kattegat goes unexpectedly.

Word count: 2,010

I know it’s been a while I’m SO SORRY!! I hope you all enjoy this chapter! As always thank you for your love and support for this story🥰

Chapter Nine: Early Morning

Chapter Eleven: Coming Soon

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

Frigid air bites at your skin as the boat enters the docks of Kattegat. Her jagged teeth gnawing at your flesh like a starved animal devouring its prey. The blood in your veins begin to freeze and you shiver, wrapping your cloak tighter to your chest.

Fresh snow covers the wood of the dock and it crunches beneath your feet as Hvitserk helps you off of the boat. He holds you close as you begin to walk into town. You know he’s dreading seeing his brother just as much as you are. If not more so.

He’s dreading the discussion of England and Ivar’s schemes, he’s dreading Ivars rage and the consequences that will follow. And as you enter the town you see just how bad Kattegat has gotten since you left…

Stakes are lined one by one on the path to the castle. People are on their knees mourning, wives and children are crying for their husbands and fathers that are hanging by their necks. You close your eyes and allow Hvitserk to lead you the rest of the way into the castle. You can’t look anymore. You can’t.

As you enter the castle you wonder if the weather of Kattegat is so cruel because her ruler is. Would Kattegat see the sun if Ivar was not on the throne? You know her people would be better off at least. Maybe they could finally be happy. You shake the thought away, if only for a while, right now you still have to think of your people in England.

When Ivar sees you he smiles “Back so soon?” He asks “And I thought you and my brother would have ran away together.”

You open your mouth to speak but no words come out. Still in shock of the dead..

“Cat got your tongue princess?”

Hvitserk breaks the silence for you “Ivar, why are there people hanging outside?”

He chuckles “They were plotting against me, I had no choice.”

“What plots did they have?” You ask, you voice more meek then you had intended it to be.

Ivar stands up, his crutches supporting him, and walks towards you “They wanted to usurp me and take Kattegat for themselves. Obviously I could not allow that to happen.”

“Their wives and children…” a tear falls from your eyes and you wipe it away “have they not suffered enough? Please show mercy and take their bodies down. Allow their families to bury them.”

Ivar looks at Hvitserk and smirks “She is always looking out for the people isn’t she brother, hmm?”

“Ivar” Hvitserk warns

“Be careful where your loyalties lie Princess.”

You fight the sudden urge to slap him across the face, knowing in some way that Hvitserk would be the one to pay for your actions. So instead you nod “Yes my King”

He pats the top of your head “Good, very good”

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

You watch from the window of your chambers as Hvitserk and Ubbe take down the bodies. You watch and cry, because how are you supposed to save not only your people but the people here as well. How can you battle two Kings? You’re only one person. One person with no army or knowledge of swordsmanship, you can’t wield an axe or shoot an arrow-

Suddenly, the door to your chamber opens interrupting your thoughts and bringing back the cold that has since left the air.

“I remember your first day here, you tried to escape by jumping out of a window. Now you are content, are you not?”

You swallow the lump in your throat and find the courage to look at Ivar.

But instead of finding malice you see the kind face that talked you off of that ledge in the beginning.

“I am content when I am with Hvitserk, yes.”

He nods in understanding and then takes a seat next to you “When you arrived I had hoped things would go differently, Princess. I tried to do the right thing, I wanted to give my brother someone to love. Someone he could seek comfort in… I did not want you to be unhappy here.”

You scoff at his words. Not being able to control yourself. “You hung those men!” Your voice raises and you start to feel a heat rising up inside of you. “How can you speak of happiness when all you cause is pain?”

Ivar is speechless and something tells you he is hardly ever without words. Or at least a snide comment. So against you better judgement you continue.

“That night could have been a peaceful negotiation between us, we could have spoken like reasonable adults and found a solution in letting Hvitserk go free… You did not have to take from me something so precious.”

Your heart begins to slow then. Remembering how you’d originally thought Ivar was a kind man, thinking him more a friend then foe. He spoke of freedom and safety. He spoke of love and happiness.

It was all a lie.

And now he speaks of doing the right thing… Your head is spinning because of his madness.

“Do not blame me for that, If Hvitserk didn’t threaten me I would have no reason to hurt you-“

“You burned the last woman he loved alive! What was he supposed to do Ivar, Forgive you? Forget that happened? Would you be able to forgive him if he burned Freydis? I think not,”

For the second time today you’ve rendered the man in front of you speechless. His head hangs low and his hand grips at his crutch so tightly that his knuckles are white.

Taking a deep breath you calmly continue “If someone so much as laid a hand on Freydis you would torture them, you would hang them or worse, you know what I say is true. So how can you expect Hvitserk to so easily forgive you? His own brother, flesh and blood, killed the only woman he’s ever loved.”

“I thought if I gave you to him, he’d forgive me. He’d be happy again. After Thora he was not the same. He was drinking and taking things to make him forget. Then he started having visions of her but those visions only brought him more pain… I sent him on a raid to try and fix him, to get his mind off of her and focused on something else. But from what the men tell me that didn’t work either.” He looks at you then, truly looks at you “But you princess, you’ve brought my brother back. He has not touched a single cup of ale since you’ve been here. Nor has he gone into one of those dens… You’ve fixed him.” He laughs “and I almost broke you too, didn’t I?” It’s a rhetorical question, you know, however you feel the need to answer it anyway.

“You did not break me, Ivar. Not yet.”

He smiles “Good, that is good. You are smarter than her. A better fit for my brother I think.”

You shake your head “When I am around you I feel like I’m walking on glass or thin ice above a lake. I know if I take one wrong step you’ll crack and I’ll die… that is no way to live my king.”

“Do you love my brother?” He asks

“Very much, yes.”

“Then for his sake, I will try to be stronger. So if you do misstep I will not crack so easily as last time.”

You hold out your hand. Ready to make a deal with the devil “And I will learn to tread lightly”

He shakes your hand and sighs “ok, yes ok.”

He leaves your chambers shortly after. And you could kick yourself for not bringing up England or the dragons. His sudden expression of regret and concern for his brother's well-being certainly took your mind for a loop. A great big loop that still has your head spinning.

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

Once Ivar left your chambers, time escaped you. You weren’t sure how long you were sitting by the window and you’re not sure how long Hvitserk has been standing in front of you trying to get your attention.

“Princess? Please talk to me, what happened? Why are you acting so strange?”

When you snap out of it you look at him and smile. “I- I think Ivar was trying to apologize.”

He laughs “My brother does not apologize”

You stand up and walk closer to him “He seemed to be regretful, he said he would try to keep his temper under control around me.”

Hvitserk wraps you in his arms and sighs “This is not the first time he has made such a promise. He is only saying that so you let your guard down. He wanted to get more information out of you, gain your trust. My brother is anything and everything but stupid.” He kisses your forehead and continues “You can not be so willing to believe him. Ivar is not an ally or a friend.”

You nod “He seemed so genuine, I desperately wanted to believe he was trying to make up for what he has done… He even mentioned how happy you have been. He seemed glad.”

Hvitserk smiled at that. A small smile, but you caught it nonetheless.

“I am tired of talking about my brother. It has been a long day.” He groans and steps away from you to sit on the bed.”Come and lay down with me?” He asks, his arms stretched towards you in a silent plea.

How could you refuse?

You join him and as he lays down he brings you with him. Resting your head on his chest you ask “Should I begin planning our wedding? We are in Kattegat now, Ivar seems to be in a good mood… minus the hanging this morning.”

“Would that make you happy?”

You pause. But only for a moment “Yes,” you answer truthfully “it would.”

A vision appears in your mind. The ceremony will be beautiful. A pathway of flowers in the woods leading up to the altar, overlooking the water. Hvitserk waiting for you, smiling, and looking so handsome.

“It would make me happy too… Kattegat is your home now my love, I know it is cold and unforgiving, I know your love for England will always be first… But my hope is that you will grow to care for Kattegat. Just as you have grown to care about me.”

A simple nod and smile is all you give. It is all he could have asked for. He knows your inner fear of Ivar and the fear for your people back home. He knows there is a battle going on inside of your head, he can see it in your eyes. He could feel it when he saw you sitting at the window staring at nothing. It worried him… and he has never worried about anything. Out of all of Ragnar's sons Hvitserk was already so carefree. So willing to risk it all.

Now though. Now that he has you, he worries all the time.

“Can we have the ceremony at the meadow? The one you took me to on our first day.”

He smiles at your request. Remembering the day fondly. You looked so beautiful, laughing and dancing. “Of course we can Princess. Of course”

He kisses your head and before he knows it you have fallen asleep. He stays awake most of the night. Keeping watch and listening to make sure nothing or no one enters the room. This has become a routine as of late, ever since Ivar came into your chambers that night. Now staying awake every night, to ensure your safety, has become Hvitserk’s new normal.

He groans and rolls over so that he is facing you. Who would have guessed that this would happen to him? that the Princess of England would come and completely turn his life upside down. She would make his heart beat again. She would make him want to be a better man… a better ruler.

Better even than his father.

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