#this probably won’t stay up for long because I recognize that it’s rather dark and personal

[peaches2217]

Look, I hate to be the one to say it, but if you grew up in a cult and you’re still religious, you never escaped your cult. You’re not a cult survivor, you’re literally still a cult member. I hope you get the help you need.

(I’m assuming you’re referencing my tags on this post?? Lemme know if I’m off-base! 😅)

Oooookay! Little rant under the cut, because while it is a bit of a sensitive topic, I think I have the right to answer honestly!

TW: Religious trauma, abusive relationships, homophobia, just generally deep shit about toxic religious culture

Friendo, with all due respect, you don’t get to tell me what I am or what I’m not when it comes to my religious beliefs. I’m sorry if that sounds harsh, but I’ve spent the past five years navigating my own thoughts and beliefs after twenty-odd years of being told exactly what to think and how to believe, and that’s something I won’t allow to be belittled or diminished.

I did grow up in a cult. My lifelong church was an Assemblies of God church, which is a denomination already known for being… kinda intense, but I got the “privilege” of seeing it morph into a fledgling cult as I grew up; gradually cutting all associations with all churches outside the denomination, thinly-veiled messages of fear and hate becoming less and less veiled, increasingly vigilant calls to action against “The Enemy,” which went from a vague way of referencing Satan and his influence to referencing literally anyone who wasn’t part of the congregation. I dated a guy who sincerely believed, and preached to a room full of “Amen!”s, that Catholics are all Hell-bound and non-Evangelical Protestants weren’t far behind. I didn’t even think twice about the logic of suggesting a 2000-year-old religion was wrong and illegitimate prior to the past hundred years or so. I was just enamored by his devotion and wisdom.

I was always queer and suppressed it to varying degrees of success before getting my first taste of freedom in college and falling into a relationship that became abusive. I came back home after dropping out, broken and confused, and ran back to the only place I’d ever felt welcomed, but realized pretty quickly that I’d been deemed one of the very same outsiders I was warned about growing up. I threw myself into repentance. I desperately tried to regain favor in the eyes of the church and the God I was raised to believe in. I made the mistake of finally opening up and trusting the pastor enough to confide in him about my abusive relationship, to which he responded with a lecture about MY wrongdoings, followed by him outing me to the entire congregation. One day after service when I was about 21 or 22, I approached my dad while he was talking with the pastor’s wife, and she stopped mid-sentence when she saw me and just walked away in the opposite direction. That was a pretty common reaction people had to me after being outed, but I think that was the moment I realized I had failed to atone and failed as a Christian.

Through it all, my dad spoke with conviction of a God who was gentle, loving, merciful, and kind. I realized late in my teenhood that, for all his devotion to our church, the God he spoke of wasn’t the same God our pastor spoke of. My dad remains a victim of the cult because he was raised to believe all figures of authority are well-meaning — a few months back, my mom tried to sit him down and explain plainly that several of my psychological issues are a direct result of religious trauma inflicted by the church he raised me in, and he sincerely couldn’t wrap his head around the notion. But even as that church has morphed into a cult, he’s held belief in a God and a Christianity more forgiving. I realized during my last few visits to the church, spread over the course of a couple of years, that he’d also been othered, if not quite as hard and suddenly as I was. Even now he’ll express frustration that no one seems to consider his ideas or opinions when he used to be considered a go-to decision maker.

My dad’s no leftist; he’s proudly conservative, supports Trump, and hides his homophobia behind a veil of sympathy for those “called to celibacy” or with a “propensity towards sodomy” (both terms he’s used to describe me, to my face). I love him, and we have a good relationship, but I sincerely worry about what might happen when he finds out I’m trans. His one deviation from the church, his belief that God’s much more willing to love and forgive than the pastor tells us, is nevertheless enough to have him considered an outlier. Being ostracized and forced to look from the outside in allowed me to see that and realize “Hey, hold up, that doesn’t make sense.”

So for the past half decade, I’ve been doing something that goes directly against everything I was ever taught: examining my beliefs and determining what I truly believe and what I only believe out of indoctrination and fear. Looking at the Scriptures in their original forms and historical-political contexts, and examining its English translations through the same lens. Discerning the difference between what’s biblical and what’s Christlike, how much of Christianity is God’s true word and how much is the agenda of men, challenging myself to question everything I’ve ever known and acknowledge that maybe what I learned was just wrong.

It’s… largely been uphill, but it’s a battle I’m not fighting alone. My girlfriend is a huge source of support; having someone that’s so close to me yet so far removed from the system I was brought up in has been invaluable in opening my eyes to just how fucked up some of the stuff I’ve been taught is. I just earlier this year learned that the Rapture isn’t a widespread belief outside of American Evangelicism, and that it as a concept isn’t even an ancient prophecy, but a relatively recent (like, 19th century, popularized in the 20th century) man made doctrine. My girlfriend, who lacks strong religious affiliation but nonetheless knows her Scripture because she’s from the heavily Catholic Slovakia, was absolutely baffled when I explained what I thought was common knowledge to all Christians. She calls the doctrine “UFO Jesus”.

Since I was at least twelve, I’ve lived in constant fear of the Rapture because I was convinced that, as a “sodomite” who couldn’t bring myself to condemn others like me, all my friends and I would be damned to Hell at any given moment. It’s always been a double-edged sword; fear of damnation is what’s kept me from offing myself several times, but the belief that the Rapture will happen any day and I’ll be tortured for all eternity no matter what I do so there’s really no point in living is a huge part of what got me to the point of wanting to off msyelf in the first place. And I’m learning now that it’s not even a common belief within one of the world’s largest religions, least of all to the extent its importance was pressed within our church. I still struggle to say “I was taught a lie” because that fear of being wrong and suffering greatly for it was part and parcel of my participation in church growing up, but dammit I’m striving to find my own truth instead of the supposed truth drilled into me.

So yes, I’m still religious. But I no longer believe in the God I was taught to believe in. I still haven’t quite figured everything out, and I still struggle thanks to a lifetime of indoctrination, but I’m learning to define my own beliefs bit by bit, and I believe in a God of radical love who mourns what so many oppressive sects of Christianity teach and enforce in His name. And if you don’t believe that, that’s fine! There’s reasons aplenty to be atheistic or antitheistic or religious/spiritual but unaffiliated with Christianity specifically.

But don’t you dare fucking tell me I’m no better now than I was while I was trapped, just because you personally don’t find religion to hold any value. I’m not perfect. I was raised in a deeply flawed ideology and still suffer from holdovers. I’m doing my best to hold myself accountable for those biases as I move forward. But I am, in fact, a victim and a survivor, and I‘ve fought like hell to undo the damage done to me and that I did to others while trapped in that system, and I have every right to be frustrated at those efforts being belittled and to be proud of myself for how far I’ve come anyway.

[p-artsypants]

Paint it Black (13) Diagnosing

Ao3 | FF.net

The Titans, Batman, and Alfred sat on the couch in a circle, as Black assumed the lotus position over by the window. For once, he wasn’t singing. 

“Let’s review,” Batman began. “Richard Grayson was volunteering at the Jump City hospital when he learned about Project: Duality, a rehabilitation project run by Dr. Jack White. He joined the project, and quickly found out there was much more to it than he anticipated.” 

“Richard recorded a series of videos on a Slade bot that shows the condition of the environment he was kept, as well as messages for us,” Raven added. 

“So you know who’s behind this?” Cyborg asked. 

“I’m fairly certain. I found it shocking at first, because the pair do not get along, and are rather hostile towards each other.” Batman threw down a pair of files on the table. “This is the work of Joker and Two-Face. That much I gleaned from the final video recorded. Two-Face works in duality. When Harvey Dent had his accident that left half of his body burned, he developed a dual personality. One of order, and one of chaos. In the video, one of the men is called ‘Harv,’ no doubt short for Harvey. I believe he hired Joker to create a toxin that would cause a similar effect so that he could create an apprentice.” 

“How did you know it was the Joker?” Beast Boy asked, fascinated. 

“As I said earlier, I recognized the alias Jack White, but more importantly, Robin said so in the video.” 

“He did?” Asked Cyborg. “I’ve watched it several times and I never—” 

“In his code.” 

Beast Boy thought for a moment. “But he sings Cotton-Eyed Joe and Karma Police. How does that—?”

“Joe-karma. Joe-kar. Joker.” 

The team stared in awe. 

“You’re good,” said Cyborg.

“I’m Batman.” 

“Why were they all the way out here?” Raven asked, “You said so yourself that it didn’t make sense that they were across the country.” 

“It didn’t. Not at first. But then I realized they came out here for the same reasons Robin did. 1.) Jump City has the second highest psychiatric hospitalizations in the country, right behind Gotham, and 2.) It's far away from me. I was actively looking for both of them. If this experiment was a three month long ordeal, they needed somewhere they wouldn’t be interrupted.”

“Somewhere where they wouldn’t be on anyone’s radar,” Raven frowned.  

“Well, let’s find them and beat them up!” Said Beast Boy, punching his palm, an action he had picked up from Robin. 

“I’d love to, but we still need to focus on Robin. I have an idea, but it may take a while to work. Joker’s venom is never the same concoction twice, but he does use similar components. These, I’m familiar with. I may be able to synthesize an antidote for the toxin, but I have to have a clean blood sample. No opioids, no sedatives, just the toxin.” 

“But…won’t that…?” Cyborg began to ask, remembering the trickle of dark fluid Robin coughed up. 

“It’s not ideal, no,” Batman agreed. “And I don’t know if we can truly get a clean sample with how long Oxycodone stays in the blood. But we need to try.” 

“So,” Beast Boy began, optimistic, “if we give him this antidote, Robin will be back?” 

“Yes and no. The opiates stabilize whatever concoction the Joker made which suppresses Robin’s Ego. The result is this persona that was created out of trauma. I clearly see a lot of age regression in him as well, so it’s compounded on the childhood trauma he had. If we cure the toxin, we’ll probably see Robin a lot more, but there’s no guarantee he won’t just switch into Black at a moment’s notice.” 

“How do we fix that?” Raven asked. 

“We convince him that being Robin is ideal and that Black is the part he should suppress. Besides that…we might not be able to fix him completely.” He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees and folding his hands under his chin. “Are you all going to be able to handle that?” 

“Whatever it takes,” Starfire said. “I am prepared.”  

“Ditto,” said Beast Boy. “I can handle the occasional crazy Robin.” 

“I’m in,” said Cyborg. “He was always a little crazy.” 

“Let’s do it,” said Raven. 

“Where shall we start, Sir?” 

“First,” Batman smirked. “We need to wear him out.” He turned to the corner. “Hey Black!”

"Yes Sir Hops A lot!" Black saluted.

"Would you join us for a workout this afternoon?”

"Psh, do bears ride motorcycles?"

There was a long pause before Starfire whispered. "Do they?"

—-

Out on their course on the beach, Batman prepared a set of skill tests to measure Black's abilities. He was curious to see what the dynamic change was, if there was at all. Cyborg supplied him with the most recent charts Robin had filled out.

Black came out, his hair slicked back from hair gel, sunglasses, and Robin's work out pants. His many scars were visible on his torso, despite the red beater he wore. He could care less though. Walking through the doors, he walked with a slouched posture and exaggerated shoulder movement. “Awright,” he spoke with a terrible, thick Jersey accent. “Who’s ass am I kickin’? Where’s the gabagool?” 

Batman narrowed his eyes as he observed the scars. Once Black was tired, he’d try to get a better medical assessment. For now, he wanted to see how Robin was recovering from his ordeal, and if he could go back into the field. 

“What is a gabagool?” Starfire asked him, indulging his stupidity.

“What? You don’t know gabagool? That’s a load of gaaawbage!” 

Batman didn’t look back up from his charts. “Gotham is in New Jersey, and many people there have that accent.” Then he tacked on, “Gabagool is a type of deli meat, like capicola.”

“I did not think Black ate processed meat?”

“It’s just a fun word to say.” 

“Gabagool…gabagoooool,” Beast Boy chuckled in the corner. 

“Alright, children." Batman said, louder. "Let's get started. Black, front and center."

The delusional boy skipped up and stood rim rod straight, his hand in an 'L' shape on his forehead.

"I want to see what you're capable of, so we have some tests to run. Cyborg, if you please..."

Cyborg spoke up from the control panel. "We'll start you out on our obstacle course. Starfire will do it first to show how it's done." Then he called over to her. "Remember Star, no flying!"

"Comprehended!" She called back.

A red light by Cyborg told her to get into position. Yellow, she crouched. Green, she was gone.

Black watched in admiration as she slipped through the obstacles, no problem. Lasers grazed past her hair, sharp claws swiped and missed her skin. At the end, she landed perfectly and elegantly on her toes, not a hair out of place.

"How did I do?" She asked Cyborg.

"Almost matched your best time, by two seconds."

She snapped her fingers. "Flortoga!"

“Alright Black, it’s your turn.” 

The boy scratched his chin, then while keeping in his Jersey character, he asked "Do I gotta do it like that?”

Batman considered. "No...I guess you can do it anyway you want."

"Great!" He happily tottered over to the starting point.

"You ready?" Cyborg called.

"Whenever you are, you delicious chocolate man!"

Giggling came from the rest of the Titans as Cyborg shook his head and reset the test. “He’s not sane, Cyborg. He doesn’t know any better.” 

"BumbumbumbumbumBUM. BUM. BUM. BUM. BUM." Black started singing. 

The green light signaled and Black started. Right from the start, he started showing a hidden cleverness and intelligence. He took a separate route, still through the course, but the less dangerous way. Each move he made was calculated, and didn’t waste any energy. There was little running, mostly acrobatics to get big air from spot to spot. Lasers were guided so they aimed at him, but he moved so that he not only avoided them, but they took out each other. Then he surprised everyone as he sang while he moved. "The sun is shining in the sky, There ain't a cloud in sight. It's stopped raining, everybody's in the play and don't you know it's a beautiful new day?” He even threw in a few dance moves. 

Batman frowned, though not in disappointment. “Interesting song choice.”

“Mr. Blue Sky?” Beast Boy asked. “It’s a classic, and a personal fav. What’s so interesting about it?” 

“It doesn’t fit his theme.” 

“You mean the Radiohead theme? I think that was Robin’s doing. I think this is just Black goofing around.” 

“Perhaps.” 

“Running down the avenue, see how the sun shines brightly in the city, on the streets where once was pity, Mr. Blue Sky is living here today.” Black took an unnecessary risk by leaping sideways and cartwheeled through the air. He was almost nicked with a blade, but managed to twist himself out of the way at the last second. 

Batman scowled harder. “It’s a routine.” 

“I have never seen him perform such a routine,” said Starfire. “It is not in our battle plans.” 

“It’s not a training routine,” he clarified. “It’s…it’s an acrobatics routine.” 

“I do not understand,” Starfire apologized. 

“I don’t get it either,” said Beast Boy. “Was Robin really into gymnastics or something?” 

Batman huffed, not thrilled that he had to divulge such things. “I’ll tell you later. All of you. It’s…not a short topic.” 

“Mr. Blue Sky, please tell us why you had to hide away for so long. Where did we go wrong?”

The team watched in fascination as Black seemed to bend the rules of physics to weave through this course. And he did it effortlessly. 

Like he had done it a hundred times before. 

“Hey you with the pretty face, welcome to the human race. A celebration, Mr. Blue Sky's up there waiting and today is the day we've waited for!”

He came to the end, landing like a gymnast would dismount, up on his toes with his arms up. Then he lost all feigned composure. "Whoo! Didja see that, son?! Bang! Pow! Whoosh! Zing!" He laughed wildly to himself as he ran to Batman, grabbed his hands and danced around. "I did it! I did it! Are you proud of me, Bunny Man?” 

“Unhand me," Batman spoke stoically.

"What's next huh? Huh!? Huh?! Uh-huh?! Huh!"

Batman placed a heavy hand on his head, to still him. "Calm your tits, kid." He looked over his chart, his mouth ticking to the side. "Matched Robin’s best time."

“Yay! I'm a match! Just rub my butt, and I'm on fire!"

Batman narrowed his eyes as he stared at his old partner, his adopted son, this insane stranger. 

He was completely unrecognizable. 

They spent the day out there. Every variation of the course they could conceive, they made Black run it. Any information they left over from Robin’s charts, they compared with Black. 

He either matched them, or squeaked just beyond. 

“I’m impressed,” Cyborg admitted, looking over Batman’s shoulder. 

“I’m not,” said Batman. “Training courses are good and helpful, but I would like to see him in a fight, hopped up on adrenaline.” 

“I have some footage of him during the few fights we saw him in.”

Batman handed the clipboard over. “Actually, I think I’d like to see it in person.” He stood in the middle of the brawl ring. “Black!” 

“Aye aye Captain!” 

“I’d like to brawl with you. No holds barred. Give it your all.” 

“Are you sure?” Beast Boy asked. 

Batman gave him a flat look. 

“Fair enough.” 

“You wanna wrassle?” Black beamed. “Let’s tussle!” He ran into the ring, getting into a fighting stance. 

Batman didn’t wait for a countdown or anything, but lunged forward to throw a punch. 

Black easily dodged, and launched an attack of his own, throwing a jab to the side that Batman left open. 

Batman grabbed his wrist and attempted to twist it backwards, but Black did a standing backflip to go with the twist, then spun on his heel and nearly kicked Batman in the face. 

“Wow Bunny Man! You’ve got the groove!” 

Batman didn’t say anything, just attempted to kick Black in the ribs. 

Black blocked the kick with his arm, then trapped his leg against his body. He smiled widely at Batman before punching Batman in the thigh with the side of his fist. 

Batman cried out as a searing pain dug into his leg. He reached forward and grabbed Black by the face, and shoved him away. 

Blood was trickling down his thigh. “Who gave you a knife?” Batman snarled. 

“I’m a man of many secrets,” Black grinned again. Then his smile faded as he saw the rage on Bat’s face. “You said no holds barred. I thought I was allowed to stab you.” 

“You wanna play dirty?” He growled. 

Black’s eyes flashed in delight as he darted towards Batman, ready to strike again, but Batman simply grabbed the front of his shirt, turned, and used the momentum to guide Black over and onto the ground. 

Batman reeled up to punch him, but Black somersaulted backwards, getting to his feet, before leaning back and nailing Batman in the jaw with his foot. He twisted, landing on his other foot, and then kicked Bat’s in the face again. 

While Batman reeled backwards, Black darted forward and attempted to jab him in the stomach. 

The fight would have taken a horrible turn if Batman hadn’t grabbed his wrist at the last second. 

Black had the knife again, and almost stabbed his father in the stomach. 

“We’re done,” Batman stated sternly. 

The smile on Black’s face was malicious and sinister. “What’s wrong, old man? Don’t like losing?” 

With the grip Batman had on his wrist, it took no effort to lock it and throw it out of joint. 

Black swore a tirade of foul curses against him, his family, and friends.  

“Not so fun being in pain, is it?” Batman hoisted him to his feet. 

Black’s anger dissolved into tears, as he started throwing a tantrum like a toddler. 

Batman just shook his head. 

Cyborg picked Black up and threw him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “Back to the med bay with you.” 

Black attempted to hug Cyborg around the waist as he was carried away. 

Starfire sidled up to Batman and lifted him around the shoulders. “Pardon me if I am assuming too much, but you are injured. There should be no reason for you to walk on your injured leg.”

Batman didn’t argue. He couldn’t afford an injury right now, and Starfire carrying him would prevent it from getting worse. “Thank you, Starfire.” 

She smiled at him and rushed after Cyborg. 

—-

In the med bay, Alfred got to work patching Batman up while Raven and Cyborg put Black’s arm back into place.

“Of all the times you’ve been stabbed, I did not think Master Dick would be one of them.” 

“Makes me wonder how many criminals he has stabbed,” Batman winced as another suture went in the wound. 

“Johnny Rancid got it in the leg too,” said Beast Boy. “Made him lose control of his bike and crash into a wall.” 

“Jesus.” 

Black laid back on the bed, his arm in a sling while Raven did her best to knit the muscles back into place. He pouted as he stared at Batman. “You cheated,” he grumbled.

“I cheated?” Batman frowned back. 

“You called the fight off, and then you dislocated my arm. That was cheating!” 

Batman shifted his jaw and then answered, shortly, “fine. I cheated.” 

Alfred finished up, and gave him some Tylenol. 

Black perked up. “Can I have some of those?”

“No.” 

He pouted again. “This is cruel and unusual punishment.” 

Batman simply took a sucker out of his belt and tossed it to him. That shut Black right up.

“You don’t argue with him,” Cyborg noted. “Why are you indulging him?”

“Not indulging,” Batman insisted. “Compromising. I’ve worked with the insane for 20 plus years, and I always have better results if I compromise on the small things. Especially if they aren’t committing a crime. I’ve gotten Mr. Freeze to stay complacent in Arkham because I have Wayne Enterprises working on a cure for his sick wife, with his input. Poison Ivy gets rare and exotic plants for her cell that she couldn’t get anywhere else if she behaves. And Robin decides to trust whatever I tell him to do because I ‘get’ him.”

Black scooted back on the bed to lay down. The exercising worked, and he was tired. 

“So what next?” Asked Cyborg. 

“Now, we wait. He hasn’t had any opioids since last night, correct?” 

“Yes sir.” 

“Then we keep him hydrated and wait until they move out of his system.”

“How long will that take?” Asked Beast Boy. 

“Probably another day at least. We’ll just have to keep an eye on him. No matter how much he whines, we can’t give him anything.” 

Black ‘hrmph’ed from his place on the bed. 

“Alfred, why don’t you make these kids some food? In the meantime, I’m going downtown to conduct my own investigation.” Without so much as a ‘goodbye’ he turned and left. 

Once he was gone, Black let out a long whimper and pouted. “Mr. Bunnyman is mad at me…” 

“Well, you stabbed him, what did you expect would happen?” Beast Boy snipped. 

Black started sniveling. “He told me to fight hard! I thought it was okay!” 

“It’s never okay to stab someone,” Raven told him, bewildered that she even had to. “Where did you put that knife?”

He put his finger to his lips. “Izza secret.” 

“Hand it over,” she said sternly. “You don’t want me to find it on my own.” 

He blew her a raspberry and took the knife out of his pocket. “Fine, Mrs. Killjoy.” 

“It is for your safety, Black,” Starfire insisted. 

Black started bobbing his head, grooving, one might say, then sang, “You got some nerve, coming here.”

“And we lost him again,” Cyborg rolled his eyes. 

“You got some nerve coming here. You stole it all, give it back.” 

Raven ignored him and stowed the knife. “Let’s all move to the ops room and help Alfred with dinner.” 

“You stole it all, give it back,” Black sang. 

“Uh…I don’t think Robin liked that you took his knife.” Beast Boy pointed out. 

“Well,” Raven poked Black in the chest. “Robin can get over it. If he cares about our safety, he’s not going to let Black have a knife.” She huffed, then looked at Starfire. “Keep an eye on him, would you? When he decides he wants to join us, he can.”

She went to the hall, with a bit more anger in her step than she intended. 

Black’s voice followed her.“Good morning, Mrs. Magpie. How are we today? Now you've stolen all the magic. You turn your back, walk away.”

[angry-geese]

Can I request nsfw+fluff gojo x fem!reader? (established relationships) Just gojo being horny and needy after weeks not seeing reader due to work. (Uuuu and may I add breeding kink too <3 ) Lmaooo what's wrong with me✋🏻😔 I love your works btw and just take your time💕💕 here *slides a cookie 🍪 *

YESSSS gojo + breeding kink is top tier. i got a little carried away with this one lol

When We Meet Again

Gojo Satoru x Reader

Warnings: shameless smut. oral (fem receiving), creampies, mating press, unprotected sex, fingering, fluff and smut. slight somnophilia (kinda??) fem!reader

Word Count: 3.7k

jjk masterlist

It's well past midnight by the time he gets home.

Save for a single light in the kitchen, the apartment is dark. Leftover pastries sit out on the counter, covered with a bowl to keep bugs from getting to them, alongside your keys, and an empty mug of tea. A grocery list has been stuck to the fridge. A rack of dishes sits beside the sink, drying.

You're not in your usual spot on the couch. He's not surprised. It's late. And though you don't have work in the morning, you were never one to stay up so long. You must have gone to bed already. You might have stayed up had he bothered to tell you he was coming home. But he didn't. His plans changed at the last moment, and not even he knew he'd be back so soon.

He hates being gone this long. He misses sleeping in his own bed. Sometimes he forgets just how cold a bed can be without someone else in it.

The door to your shared room is open. Though it's dark. There's a faint green glow from the alarm clock on the side table. The moon is full enough tonight to provide a bit of light; a pale silver glow fills the room. And there you are, curled up on his side of the bed. In one of his shirts. A black button up that’s a bit too big for you, with sleeves that hang well past your fingertips.

It's not like he can refuse. If he’s getting called out to help, then there's probably not someone who can go in his place. The strongest doesn't really have time to take a vacation. He’s on call 24/7. Between his teaching job at Jujutsu Tech, and the major clans of Jujutsu society constantly demanding his attention, he’s rather short on free time.

It was a tedious job. Not worth his time. Not particularly tough, albeit time consuming. But the previous two sorcerers came back with nothing. And so he was sent out. Cleaning up someone else's mess.

The first week he called every day. The job wasn’t supposed to take any longer than that. Or so you both assumed. As the second rolled through, your calls grew shorter, and less frequent. He found himself frustrated with the lack of contact. It wasn't either of your faults. Your work called for you to be out during the little free time he had. Overtime. When you did have time to call each other, you were often exhausted, and short with him. The distance was putting a strain on your relationship.

The worst part of it all; he couldn't fuck you. And for a man that could go multiple rounds in a day, that was miserable. His love language is touch. Not being able to hold you was… well, miserable.

You don't really know the extent of the effect you have on him.

He's too tired to change, and he showered before he left, so he strips to his boxers and pulls his side of the blankets aside. Tomorrow is laundry day anyway. You always choose Sundays for laundry day, because that's the day before you have to go back to work. There's just enough room between you and the edge of the bed for him to slip in.

When something makes him stop dead in his tracks.

It's your voice. You’re calling out his name. You aren't awake, and though you do sometimes talk in your sleep, tonight is different. When it does happen, it's usually nonsense. Soft, endearing babble that he can't help but listen to. He says your name, softly, but you don't respond. Enough moonlight streams in through the window to see your face. Your brows are knit in concentration—possibly frustration—and sweat beads in your hairline.

Are you having a nightmare?

The bed dips under his weight as he sits, resting a hand on your thigh. Your skin is rather warm, he notes. You roll over onto your side, burying your face in his pillow. He pulls the blankets up, tucking them around your shoulders, as you’ve kicked them down by your feet in your sleep.

There it is again. You say his name, but there's a level of desperation behind it.

There's no denying the wetness between your thighs. You squeeze your thighs together in an unconscious attempt to get some relief. Your breathing is labored.

It's only a moment later that the realization kicks in.

The grin that splits his face can only be described as malicious in nature.

His hand creeps higher on your thigh, nudging the hem of your—his—shirt up. You’re not wearing anything underneath. The sight of your slick cunt is nearly enough to make his cock stand to attention.

His gaze falls to the curve of your hips, just barely illuminated by the moonlight. He likes the light of you in his shirt a little more than he likes to admit. Though he’s never been quiet about how much he appreciates your body.

Your body freezes the moment his thumb grazes across your slit. So does he. You’re so wet. Must be a real nice dream. You roll onto your back, your legs parted slightly. The soft gasps and moans that leave you are like music to his ears. Gojo takes this as an invitation to continue, his hand moving further up your thigh, lazily tracing circles into it.

You must've missed him more than he expected.

Your body registers that someone is touching you before it registers just who is doing such. In your sleepy, dream-ridden state you don't recognize the figure in front of you. In the dim light of the room, you can make out a mess of white hair, and the reflection of dark, round glasses shoved up into his hairline. Gojo’s eyes practically reflect in the dark.

You jolt awake, sitting up. “Jesus christ-”

“‘S just me, Mochi,” he says, though it does little to settle your nerves.

If you weren't awake before, you certainly are now.

“What? You watch people in their sleep now?!” You scold. “‘Toru- you scared the hell out of me!”

You flop back on the bed. The blankets pool around your hips. You reach to pull them back up, finding your bed colder than usual.

"You were calling out my name." He says.

"Oh," you say, and though there's little light in the room, he watches your face flush, "must have been dreaming about you."

“Wanna recreate what you were dreaming?” He asks. Rather smugly, might you add.

You roll your eyes. “Go to sleep.”

"Scoot over then. I'm gonna fall off the bed."

This prompts an evil sounding giggle from you, followed by a: "fall then."

"Alright," he says, rolling over to lay on you, throwing his arm around your waist. You’re effectively pinned under him, as the awkward angle won't allow you any leverage to throw him off. He attacks the exposed part of your neck with kisses, sucking hickeys into the flesh of your neck and shoulders. His hair tickles your skin.

“‘Toru- stop!” You squeal. “Let me go-”

“Not until you apologize,” he says, planting a wet kiss on your jaw.

“Never!”

“Then I guess I won't let you go.”

His arms wrap around you from behind, pulling you flush to his chest. One of his hands finds your own, his fingers lacing with yours. His legs tangle with yours in a way that holds them in place. Worming out of his grip in this position would be a near impossible task.

You suppose there’s worse fates than this.

It would be easier to stay awake if he wasn't so warm. Or if he didn't smell so nice. Or if he wasn't softly rocking your body with each breath he takes. His thumb traces soft circles around your knuckles. Gojo’s breath is warm against your neck, making goosebumps rise along the soft flesh. The steady sound of it is almost enough to lull you to sleep.

"I missed you." You say. Your voice is almost too soft to hear.

“I know.” He says. His arms give your midsection a reaffirming squeeze. “I missed you too.”

“How was work?”

“A shitshow,” he says, leaning to nip at your earlobe, “but I get to come home to you, so it’s not all bad. How’s everything been around here?”

“Quiet.” You say. “Kinda boring without you. I wish you told me you’d be home tonight. I would have done something special.”

“It was a spur of the moment decision.” He says. “I didn't expect to be home so soon either.”

“We should do something tomorrow, then,” you say, “a new ramen place opened up down the street. You know where the old bakery used to be? They leased the place out.”

Gojo hums in response. Ramen sounds nice. Especially now. But he’s too tired and too horny to worry about food. Why have ramen when he has a meal right in front of him? Or a snack, as he often likes to call you. To which you roll your eyes, but there's no denying how he makes you blush.

You take back what you said about finding it easy to sleep. He’s moving around a bit too much for that. Gojo isn't subtle about it either. Nothing about the man is. He foregos subtly in favor of announcing nearly everything he does. Loudly. Who would dare stop him?

But you guess it's part of his charm. His dorky, sappy charm. You’ve kind of signed up for it, so you’re not complaining.

You scoot away from the edge of the bed a bit, thinking he needs more room. Gojo pulls you back to his chest, thinking you’re trying to run away from him.

“Quit squirming.” You hiss.

“Sorry Mochi,” he says, “just tryna get comfortable.”

And he really does mean it. But he’s been gone from you for so long that he's forgotten how nice your body feels against his. A little too nice, he’ll admit. Phone sex is nice, but it's not the same as the real thing. It gets old after a while. His hand doesn't quite compare to yours. Or the real thing. Something hard presses against your thigh from behind.

That's when it clicks. You just smell so nice. Your body is so warm against his. You look so nice in his shirt. Can you really blame him for getting hard?

You aren't sure he knows that you know. You shift a bit. It appears you’re only trying to get comfortable. His grip around your waist loosens, allowing you to settle a bit closer to him. You can't help it if your shirt rides up a bit, exposing the perfect curve of your ass. He prefers you in nothing at all, though the sight of you wearing his clothes is certainly a nice one. Any sight of you is. Gojo is shameless in the way he adores your body.

Once settled, his arms return to your waist. His head falls into the crook of your neck. He’s doing little to hide the tent he sports in his boxers. Maybe he thinks you don't notice. Or maybe he’s trying to ignore it.

“Stop that,” he says.

“I'm not doing anything,” you say, with the same evil giggle as before.

“Why do I not believe you?”

His lips find your neck, sucking a dark mark into your pulsepoint. The sudden sensation of lips on your neck makes you squeal. In your ear he coos every sappy nickname in the book that makes you blush.

You hardly notice as his hand trails lower. Your legs part just enough for him to slip his hand between them. He does nothing but seek out your warmth. Yet.

A familiar tension returns to your stomach. It's not unpleasant.

So that's what he was doing. Not that you’re complaining.

“Missed you, Mochi,” he says, gasping at the wet feeling of your cunt, “missed you so much. You have any clue what it's like being around all those weird old men all day? For days on end, no end in sight?”

It always surprises you just how bad the man can be with words, yet how good he is with his mouth.

His fingers find your clit, drawing lazy circles around the bundle of nerves. Your breath catches in your throat. You can't deny how nice his long fingers feel inside of you.

“Seems like you’ve missed me too.” He says, his breath warm against your ear.

“Whatever you want to think, old man,” you say. Though you have missed him. You always do. But there's some fun to be had by teasing him.

“Old man?!” He sounds genuinely hurt. “Don't be like that. I know you like having me around.”

“Oh really? What makes you think that?”

His fingers move to press into the tight entrance of your cunt, his thumb brushing across your clit. The soft gasp that leaves you is practically music to his ears. To give him credit, he is good with his hands.

“Did you think about me while I was gone,” he coos, “did you touch yourself while you did it? I did. Couldn't keep my mind off this sweet cunt of yours. I think I want a taste.”

Your only response is a soft moan. Heat pools low in your stomach, growing in intensity with each skilled movement of his hand. He moves so you can lay on your back. Your hands find the sheets, holding them in a death grip. Gojo nudges your legs further apart with one of his knees.

The kiss he pulls you into is uncharacteristically soft, and needy. He moans nearly as loud as you when you nibble on his bottom lip, hips lips parting, allowing the strong muscle of your tongue to explore his mouth.

Your hands work to undo the top few buttons of your shirt, exposing your breasts. His free hand comes up to grope appreciatively at your tits. Gojo has never been shy about how much he adores them. Or shy ever, to his credit. You’re his, and he would show you off to the world if you’d let him.

But sometimes he prefers to steal you into his domain, and hold you there. Close. Where you’ll always be at his side. The one place in this universe he can truly promise you’ll be safe.

You hardly notice as his kisses trail down your neck. Down the valley between your breasts. Working the last few buttons of your shirt open with his long fingers. What you do notice is the sudden absence of his hand.

Your legs part to give him room to settle between them. His head rests on your stomach. His warm breath tickles your skin.

"You gonna let me have a taste?" He asks, nipping at your thigh.

You swallow hard, eyes locked on him. Slowly, you nod.

You gasp at the feeling of his warm tongue, licking a stripe from your bellybutton to your mound. He's not touching you where you need him most. And that frustrates you. You buck your hips up towards his mouth, eliciting a soft laugh from him. He can't tease you too long. His cock is painfully hard, leaking against his thigh in his boxers. He can only hold himself back for so long.

You freeze at the feeling of a hot tongue against your clit.

Gojo eats pussy like a starving man, presented with his favorite meal. He does nothing short of savoring you. How you smell, how you taste, how you sound. He's shameless in how he adores this. Gojo moans nearly as loud as you at the taste of your cunt. Sweeter than his favorite dish. Meant to be savored.

You can't deny that he's good with his mouth. His tongue works circles around your clit, drawing gasps and moans from you.

Heat builds in your stomach, drawing you closer to your impending orgasm. One that comes upon you far sooner than expected.

Maybe you’re more pent up than you thought.

Your thighs clench around his head as you cum hard. He lets you ride out your orgasm on his tongue, working you through it with his skilled mouth. He’d stay with his head between your legs forever if you’d let him. Which you don't, as overstimulation soon registers in your lust addled mind, and you shove his head away.

The lower half of his face glistens in the dim light, wet with saliva, and your own slick. He’s far from subtle in the way he licks his lips, or groans at your taste. He may have gotten a bit too excited. It's not unlike him to get carried away. How can he resist a fertile cunt like yours?

“I think you should taste yourself,” he says. His hands move to cup your face as he pulls you into a kiss. You taste yourself on his lips. His hardened cock grinds against his thigh.

“‘Toru-” you whine.

“What's the matter baby?” He coos. “Use your words.”

“Fuck me.” You say. “I need you, ‘Toru. I need your cock in me.”

“Why didn't you say so?” He says, though the desperation in his voice is palpable.

He wastes no time in shoving his boxers down his hips, freeing his cock.

He’s not the most intimidating in size, but his cock is nice, and fairly thick, with a slight upward curve. The patch of hairs towards the base are soft, and white. Generally you don't need a whole lot of prep to take him. Which is helpful when he can't keep his hands to himself, and insists on fucking you in the bathroom during dinner. As much as he likes to take his time with you, he’ll take you anywhere you’ll let him. At work, or over every flat surface of your apartment. Not a single room of your home was spared. Not that either of you mind.

“Gotta work you open first,” he says, “don't want you to be too tight, do we?”

Between his saliva, and your own slick, you put up little resistance. He’s able to slide one finger in. Then a second, with no issue. His fingers curve, stroking your g-spot. His thumb works soft circles around your sensitive clit as he works you open with his fingers. Really, this is unnecessary. Your cunt is practically dripping with your own arousal.

He makes a show of licking his fingers, groaning at the taste of you. Gojo really has no shame.

The moan he lets out as he sheathes himself is truly sinful.

It's another moment before he starts thrusting.

Gojo needs a moment to collect himself. He’s been working himself up for hours if not days. All the nights he spent, thinking of what he’d do to you once he got home. He’s gone over this day in his head about a hundred times.

The sound of his hips slapping against yours fills the room. His taunts turn into senseless babble. Strands of praise mixed with Gojo’s overall dorky remarks. Pleas of your name, calling you mochi, baby, honey, and every other sappy nickname he can think of. His head falls into the crook of your neck, nipping and sucking at the soft skin. He’s not going to let you leave this bed until you’re thoroughly marked up.

Tension grows in your stomach like a rubber band being stretched tight. Your previous orgasm has left you overly sensitive, and leaves another orgasm creeping up on you sooner than expected. His hand falls to your stomach, working lower until his thumb finds your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub.

He presses your legs further back, shoving them almost to your chest. The stretch leaves a pleasant burn in your hips. Your body isn't really meant to bend this way, though it’s not completely uncomfortable. It's not long before he has you into a full mating press, rutting against you desperately, fucking you into the mattress. The bed frame groans in protest with each of his thrusts. Deep, and unrelenting. Gojo’s cock curves in such a way that hits your sweet spots just right, leaving you writing under him.

“Gonna put a baby in you, Mochi,” he says, “gonna breed this pretty cunt of yours.”

You nod along desperately. You want nothing more than for him to cum inside, filling you completely.

He silences your moan with a kiss, his teeth clashing against yours. His tongue presses past your lips, exploring the wet cavern of your mouth. You can still taste yourself on him.

A line of saliva connects your lips as he pulls away.

“Not gonna ask you to take all of it,” he says, “but take everything I got.”

And with that, he can't hold back any longer, painting your womb white. Gojo’s cum is normally thick, and there's normally a lot of it. Today even moreso. Two weeks away hasn't helped with that. Cum runs down your thighs in streams, ruining your sheets.

The elders aren't going to be happy that he’s so reckless with his precious seed, but Gojo couldn't give a damn. The elders can talk all they want. That's all they're good for. He gets to cum in a warm place, and that's more than any of the others can say.

He practically collapses on top of you.

Gojo shifts so less of his body weight is on top of you. And though the room is rather warm, you find yourself nuzzling into his body, seeking out his warmth. His arms have always given you a sense of security, especially when wrapped up in them. They find your waist, pulling your back flush to his chest.

For a moment the two of you lay there, basking in each other's warmth.

You’ll have to get up in a bit anyway. To clean yourself up, and change the sheets. And get a new shirt. Probably another one of Gojo’s. He’s never been against seeing you wear his clothes. They never stay on you for long, though.

You pry his arms off, swinging your legs over the side of the bed, but he notices, and tightens his grip.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asks, sounding rather offended.

“To get a drink,” you say, “I'm thirsty. Why? Do you want one too?”

“You think I’d let you go after just one round?” He asks. “You’re not leaving this bed until I’ve fucked you full of my cum.”

You're in for a long night.

[squishneedsahero]

Motherly Instinct

Awesomest of Them All 2.0 | One-Shots

Part 8.5 of 13

Word Count: 1541

Batman x Batmom!Reader

You know what the bat family needs? Someone to pull them together and give them all the love they deserve. Who better to do that than you? An author rising to stardom in Gotham who catches the eye of a billionaire with your standoffish attitude at a huge social gathering. You are yourself and never pretend to be more or less than that. Plus you're the most stubborn person in the world, refusing to let good things go without reason.

This is a bonus part that I’ve just thrown in cause I felt like it and I have other ideas for the series <3

Some shit had been going down with the Justice League, you had no idea what exactly it was but you hadn't seen your husband in at least a week. Needless to say you were tired of not seeing him and your two sons. So, you decided to do something about it. Something you hadn't done before now.

You walk down to the cave, after warning Alfred you were leaving, and find the suit Bruce had gotten made for you in case of an emergency. For you this qualified as an emergency. You put the mask over your eyes and prepare to head up to the watchtower. One way or another you're going to drag your family home for some rest.

Bruce didn't trust every member of the League to know who he was even if he trusted them to protect the world. It was a bit paranoid but you'd deal with it and wear the mask if it meant you could drag him home. You step up to the teleport and announce the number you were assigned then step in and when you step out you're in space.

Not exactly in space but being in the watchtower was close enough. You take a look around, seeing no one you recognize you approach someone in a green suit and ask, "excuse me, do you know where I could find Batman?"

"Of course I do beautiful, I'll show you the way," the man says, obviously he's a flirt. "The names Hal by the way, and I can call you?"

You decide to bs something on the spot, and say, "just call me SH/N." From there you follow alongside him as he leads you to wherever it is Bruce is located.

"So, why are you looking for the grumpy bat? You know he's quite boring, I'm sure the two of us could have much more fun."

He clearly has no idea who you are and you can only hope this walk won't be long. You go ahead and have a little fun with your response anyways, "yeah? What makes you so sure about that?"

"Well, he's Batman, all dark and brooding I've never seen the guy smile. Just don't tell him I told you that," Hal responds.

You can't help but laugh, "of course I'd never tell him that."

Hal opens up a door and waves his arm, letting you in. "Hey Bats, this beauty is looking for you, though why she's here to see you I have no idea."

Bruce had been standing there talking with Clark and Diana about something. He doesn't respond in any way to the sight of you besides a slight nod, but you can tell that Hal's flirting has already hit a nerve. You let the slightest smirk cross your lips and you pat Hal's arm saying, "thank you for the help," before walking across the room to your husband.

First thing you do is kiss his cheek and say, "hello love." You tilt your head and cast a side glance at Hal, seeing the color somewhat drain from his face. You wrap your arms around Bruce's neck.

His arms come to rest around your waist as the door closes behind Hal as he leaves. "What are you doing here dear?"

"I haven't seen you in over a week so I'm here to drag you home." You let go of him long enough to take the mask off since it was already bothering you, "also don't kill Hal I think I scared him enough," you laugh.

Bruce sighs, "I can't come home there's... a situation we need to figure out first."

You roll your eyes, "okay, what is the situation because I'm not going home until you and the boys can come home with me." You can tell that Bruce is just goi g to argue so you turn to Diana and ask, "what's going on?"

Diana quickly explains that a clone of Clark, a teenager, had been found and they were trying to figure out what to do with him. The fact that they were still trying to figure it out told you more than enough and you turn to face Clark.

"So, should I ask why it is you aren't taking him in?"

"He was created by Luther and is most likely a threat," Clark states simply.

"So?" You ask. "He's a kid." Clark doesn't have a good answer to that so you turn back and look at Bruce for a moment. "You go get the boys and tell them it's time to go home?"

Bruce agrees to go find Dick and Tim, taking Diana with him and leaving you there with Clark. "Hey, y/n, with Lois and Jon I can't risk their safety by bringing a  strange clone into my house." The large alien tries to defend himself.

"That's not a good enough reason. It's understandable but not a good reason. You're there and can protect your family if anything goes wrong, this boy is a child who was probably raised in a lab. Abandoning him is the stupidest idea I've heard in a long time," you cross your arms.

Somehow Clark found you scarier than Bruce was. No wonder Bruce didn't argue when you told him to go find your kids. He once again doesn't have a good answer. "So, you don't have a good response so that usually means I am right. You should talk to Lois about this before deciding anything but for now I'm going to have the kid come stay with us."

The two of you stand in an awkward silence as you wait for Bruce to come back since you don't know how to get back to where you'd started. When they finally come you put your arms around your boys and press a kiss to the top of each of their heads, "we have one more thing before we can go."

You look at your husband and the boys look between the two of you. You smile at them, "we're going to have someone staying with us for the foreseeable future." They all understand what you're saying and go get the superboy and you take him home to the mansion with you.

Once you're home you send everyone to bed and you take care of the boy. You introduce yourself to him and ask if he has a name.

"A- name?" He asks with a pause, obviously thinking about it.

"It's alright if you don't have one, we can come up with something for you." You offer him a kind smile. "So, here's the deal, I'm going to take you upstairs and give you a room to stay in rather than leaving you down here because my husband is paranoid. You'll get to see who we are and in return you'll eat some food and get some sleep, alright?"

"Okay," he says with a little hesitation before you lead him upstairs. You take him to the kitchen where the two of you get some food, quickly being caught by the rest of your family.

Bruce gives you a look upon seeing that you'd brought him upstairs, which you return but just say, "hello Love, he's going to be staying with us so I brought him upstairs to get some food. I figured he can stay in a spare bedroom because we have plenty of room."

Bruce nods slightly, "alright." He looks between you, Alfred, Dick and Tim before turning back to the boy, "so, I'm afraid I forgot to ask your name," he says, putting up with you and your mom instinct.

You jump in, saving the kid from another awkward answer and say, "we were just thinking about a name he'd like. Maybe all of you could help us come up with some ideas."

Alfred makes sure everyone is fed and you try to make sure the kid feels welcomed. He's a little awkward and doesn't talk much but he's polite, eventually you fin a name he likes, Kon-El, and then if needed he could go by Conner. You make sure that he gets to bed before going to face your husband.

You sit on the bed next to him, and face him, "okay, go ahead, let me hear it for letting him in our house."

He sighs and shakes his head slightly, "it was reckless to just let him in and see who we are." He puts his arms around you and pulls you to him, "I love you, and can't exactly be mad at you for making the call on this one when I've done it the other times." He presses a kiss to your temple, "I trust you and your instincts, so it will be fine no matter what happens."

You lean into his chest and smile softly, "thank you, I love you." You tilt your head to press a kiss to his jaw, "he needs someone to take care of him, I don't care where he came from but I'm going to make sure he has a home."

Bruce presses another kiss to your head and pulls you onto the bed with him, tucking the both of you into the covers and holding you tightly to him as he finally gets some reset.

[marvelouslytrekking]

Hidden Injury

Pairing: Leonard McCoy/Reader Summary: An away mission goes south (as they do) and you’re left running for your life and even once you’re mostly safe, you try to keep your injuries from you boyfriend. Word Count: 1280 Warnings: maybe a swear word, brief mention of injury, passing out A/N: Wow it has been forever since I have written for Bones or Star Trek. This was kinda request from an anon for some hurt/comfort not sure if this really fits that but I wrote it in like 2 hours and it’s been awhile since I have had the ability to do that so I am proud of it and hope you enjoy it!

Just once, just one time, you wanted a mission to go according to plan. You were so sick of hearing the words “This one will be simple, just a diplomatic stop,” only to find yourself running through a jungle while being chased by the other species on the planet that hate the ones you were there to meet with.

And just once, just one time it would be nice if when things went south that the transporter would work so you weren’t stuck running for longer than your legs and lungs liked. What was the point of advanced technology if it never actually worked to get you out of these types of situations.

And worse yet, you never seemed to manage to be able to stick together, easily being split up so you were not only running for your life but you had no idea if your crewmates were okay or not. You vowed to yourself that next time Kirk thought he needed an engineer on the planet you are going to refuse to be the one. Let Scotty risk his ass, not you. You would much rather be running around onboard the ship trying to get transporters online.

You’d think that having been in a similar situation multiple times, you would have learned a few things, but evidently you had not. You turned around, trying to see if you had made any headway on getting away from the aliens but unfortunately, you hadn’t, and you managed to miss the giant log in front of you. You crashed down to the ground hard. You could tell immediately that you had definitely not only gave yourself a small concussion but something in your foot did not feel right. But at that moment you didn’t have time to dwell on either so instead you quickly pulled yourself up and continued to run. You continued to move in a zigzag, trying to dodge their spears and whatever else was being launched against you, as well as trying to lose them. Finally you made enough crazy turns that it seems they were no longer behind you.

You felt relief when you noticed a small cave and you limped your way into the opening, hoping it would hide you for long enough. Once you stopped and had a moment to catch your breath, you suddenly could feel the sharp and overwhelming pain in your foot. There was no way that it hadn’t been broken, and running for another few miles probably had done you the opposite of any good for it. You found yourself sliding down the wall of the cave. Trying not to dwell on the pain in both your foot and your head.

Your pain had distracted you so much you missed the footsteps that had been approaching you.

“Oh thank god, you’re okay.” You startled when you heard a familiar voice.

“Jesus Len, don’t sneak up on a person like that,” You scold him.

“Sorry,” He apologizes before joining you on the cave floor. “You okay? You’re not hurt are you.”

“I’m fine, Just sick of running from angry aliens all the time.” You tell him. You know you should mention the foot at the very least. There was no way if you needed to run you were going to be able to and he literally was a doctor but you just didn’t want to deal with it at the moment. You didn’t want to be the engineer that got injured on the mission and slowed everyone down.

“I agree with you there,” Bones grumbled, but you notice him running his eyes over you to make sure you truly are okay. “You sure you’re okay though?”

“Yes.” You tell him, you hope he doesn’t notice that you’re gritting your teeth.

He gives you a slight skeptical look but doesn’t push it any further. You figure he must have lost his tricorder if he hasn’t pushed it in your face already. You aren’t sure if you’re relieved or not about that fact.

You two sit in silence for a while, you find yourself wanting to close your eyes and go to sleep but you force yourself to stay awake. One thing you know is that falling asleep with a concussion isn’t a great idea. But you don’t stop yourself from resting your head on Len’s shoulder. He doesn’t seem to mind, happy to have you close.

It isn’t an issue much longer when you suddenly hear both of your comms go off.

“Transporter’s back online! We have a lock on your location and will be beaming you up shortly!” You hear Scotty’s voice.

“Took you long enough,” You tease him, not showing how relieved you truly are to hear his voice.

“Well my best engineer wasn’t here to help me out.”

Bones starts to stand up as you’re talking with Scotty and suddenly you realize you’re going to have to get up as well.

Before you can say anything, Bones has his hand stretched out for you to take. You try to position yourself in a way that you won’t have to put pressure on your leg. And it almost works, but the sudden movement of standing, or getting mostly pulled up, has your head spinning, and to get your balance, you instinctively put pressure on your foot.

You felt yourself scream out in pain as arms wrapped around you and darkness started to cloud your vision as the pain became too much.

` You wake up with just a dull pain over your entire body. Probably from the amount of running you did. But you immediately recognize that you are in one of the private rooms in the medbay. You weren’t sure your injury had warranted a private room but when you noticed Leonard sitting beside you, you realize it is probably less to do with the injury and more to do with the fact you were about to get yelled at.

“Don’t even think about pretending you���re still asleep.” He grumbled when he noticed you trying to close your eyes again.

“What if instead I just try to fall back asleep.” You countered.

“Not until after we’ve talked.”

“What are we talking about?” You asked as if you didn’t know. “How pretty the trees on that planet were?”

“No. We’re talking about the fact that you promised to stop hiding your injuries from me.” You could hear the frustration in his voice.

“I thought that was in reference to like, cuts and burns from engineering.” You tried.

“If I am worried about little cuts and burns, don’t you think I’d like to know when you completely shatter your foot and give yourself a mild concussion?” Leonard huffed. You can tell he is annoyed, but you also can hear the worry in his voice, especially when it dropped lower and he added, “You scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry,” You mumbled, refusing to look up at him.

“I know, just please don’t hide things like this from me again.” Leonard pleaded softly, resting his hand on your cheek, pulling your face to look at him. You notice how tired he looks. You felt terrible. He had to run for his life as well and when you could have been safe and relaxing, you scared him by passing out in his arms.

“I promise.” You told him. While you knew it wasn’t going to be easy, you much preferred not to be a burden, you also knew that you couldn’t keep doing these sort of things to him so you would make an effort. Especially because you hated seeing the disappointment on his face and much preferred the one of longing and love.

[kpostedsum]

high | d.m

summary: you find an unhealthy way of coping after draco cheats on you

warnings: drug use (marijuana) angsty¿, cheating, illusions to sex

song: habits - tove lo

a/n: this fic isn’t meant to romanticize drug use in any way. i also know nothing abt weed so LOL and very rushed & not edited

masterlist | taglist

I eat my dinner in my bathtub

Then I go to sexclubs

Watching freaky people gettin' it on

It doesn't make me nervous

If anything I'm restless

Yeah, I've been around and I've seen it all

you had a few minutes left of your charms class which was your last class before the weekend. you wanted nothing more than to get out of here and cuddle up with your boyfriend— who was enjoying his free period right now.

draco was one of the best boyfriends you could ask for, the frequent dates, gifts, and attention— it was more than you could wish for.

“you’re excused. you essays are due at the beginning of next week” snapes monotone voice dragged on as you quickly packed up your things and made your way to the slytherin common room.

I get home, I got the munchies

Binge on all my Twinkies

Throw up in the tub

Then I go to sleep

And I drank up all my money

Days get kinda lonely

entering the slytherin common room your eyes immediately searched for a certain blond boy, yet he was nowhere to be found. you made your way to the boys dorms in hopes of finding him there but you’re quickly interrupted by two familiar voices.

“why hello y/n, marvellous weather we’re having today aren’t we?” theo asked looking towards the ceiling and smiling as if he were outside, blaise blocking your path as he did so.

“i’m not sure what weather you’re talking about since we’re inside but i am okay thank you” you responded with a chuckle, trying to make your way past blaise.

“wait y/n” he stopped you. “can i borrow the astronomy notes? i would ask luna but i can’t find her anywhere” blaise continued.

they both seemed awfully on edge and anxious, you figured it was just quidditch nerves getting to them since there was an upcoming game this week.

“i have yet to finish my astronomy notes, but i did see luna in the great hall if you want her notes. now if you’d excuse me i’d like to see draco” you said trying to push past the two boys who still wouldn’t let you through.

“forget malfoy! let’s do something instead, we’re so much more fun than him, right blaise?” theo said giving blaise a pointed look as he threw his arm around your shoulder.

“right you are nott, let’s go!” blaise continued also throwing his arm around your shoulder and leading you away from the boys dorm.

“what? no, i have plans with draco. now excuse me” you said pushing them both off and heading towards dracos door.

as you get closer to his door you can hear heavy breathing, pants and skin slapping on skin. you’re confused, you figured draco would be taking a nap or running over drills for quidditch practice. the closer you get, the louder the noises become.

“pans, you feel so good”

you recognize that voice anywhere.

You're gone and I gotta stay

High all the time

To keep you off my mind

Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh

High all the time

To keep you off my mind

Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh

quickly you turned your head towards blaise and theo who had their heads lowered in shame, refusing to meet your gaze. “is this some kind of sick joke, are you guys pulling a prank or something because this isn’t funny” you said seriously not wanting to believe what you’re hearing from inside of your boyfriends dorm.

“we’re sorry, we tried to convince him not too but he wouldn’t listen” theo muttered silently.

it felt like your world was breaking apart slowly. just not too long ago you were excited to spend a weekend with your boyfriend who you loved so dearly, the same boyfriend who you’ve been dating for years, the same boyfriend who gets jealous about how much time you spend with his mum rather than him.

with shaky fingers you put your hand on the door knob and quickly pushed the door open, already preparing for the worst.

there he was, wrapped up with parkinson in the same bed you two shared not even twenty-four hours ago. her body straddling his naked, just like yours was doing the night before. you stood there frozen, mouth agape— not even knowing what to do with yourself.

“baby, i can explain, just please— y/n please don’t leave” draco said pushing pansy off of him, shuffling on his pants and reaching out towards you.

“dont touch me, malfoy!” you yelled and everyone froze. “you lost the right to touch me the minute you even thought of touching her” you continued sending both him and pansy a glare with tears threatening to slip from your eyes.

“darling please, i can explain—”

“no draco, we’re done just leave me alone, please” your voice cracking at the end as you pushed past blaise and theo rushing towards the girls dormitory.

Spend my days locked in a haze

Trying to forget you babe

I fall back down

Gotta stay high all my life

To forget I'm missing you

Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh

it’s been days since you last left your room, days since you last saw draco. daphne would come by and check on you but you’d always dismiss her, wanting to be alone. regret is one word to describe how you’ve been feeling— you gave him everything and he threw it away so carelessly for a quick hook up.

you missed waking up against his smooth skin in his embrace, tracing the lines and scars across his porcelain skin as you waited for him to wake up, the way he’d try to kiss you in the morning without brushing his teeth and you wouldn’t let him because of morning breath— but he’d still do it anyways.

you missed him, but he didn’t want you anymore.

maybe it was something you’ve done, you’ve been quite busy with work recently so you haven’t been spending as much time with him as normal. he was probably lonely and trying to seek the attention you lacked to give him.

getting up, you stared at yourself in the mirror picking yourself apart. you were pretty, it was a well known fact around hogwarts, maybe he thought she was prettier. she was the life of the party and always up for some mischief whereas you preferred to do stuff in silence and would rather be with a small group of people. maybe he liked how exciting she was in comparison to you, she probably brought a spark of excitement to his life that you couldn’t.

dreading to feel something you quickly showered and got ready to leave your room hoping to run into a specific set of twins.

Pick up daddies at the playground

How I spend my daytime

Loosen up the frown,

Make them feel alive

I'll make it fast and greasy

I'm on my way to easy

“well what can we do for you today” fred said to you with a cheeky smile plastered across his face.

“do you have any muggle herb left?” you asked in a low voice making sure no one heard you.

“maybe we do, maybe we don’t” george said. “how much are you offering in exchange though” he continued.

“ten galleons for three ounces, is that enough” you said pulling the galleons out of your pockets and placing them in george’s palm.

“it was a pleasure doing business with you” they said in unison as fred placed the tiny baggie in your pocket so no one would see.

once you returned to your dormitory you quickly pulled out the pre-rolled muggle herb, lit it and let yourself forget.

You're gone and I gotta stay

High all the time

To keep you off my mind

Spend my days locked in a haze

Trying to forget you babe

I fall back down

Gotta stay high all my life

To forget I'm missing you

you started showing up to class late with red tired eyes, not caring about the looks you got. at this point every one knew what had happened but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

the muggle herb brought you a sense of bliss and freedom, a new feeling you haven’t felt before but something that you now craved.

“are you high right now?” draco said as he sat himself in the seat beside you.

“since when do you care about what i’m doing” you said sharply, not wanting to talk with him.

“love, you don’t smoke. who gave that stuff to you, i’ll kill them—”

“no you won’t.” you said turning towards him. “you won’t do any of that because you don’t own me and i’m not your girlfriend anymore. so mind your business malfoy, i’m sure parkinson’s waiting for you”

the rest of the class you both sat in silence working on potions that draco did most of since you weren’t in the correct mind state and he wasn’t willing to let his mark falter over your slip up.

you find it amazing how even when you’re on drugs he still looks amazing. the way his nose curves perfectly with a slight bump, and the way his hands move with caution as he pours the potion into the waste bucket.

“look, i’m sorry for what happened with pansy. it didn’t mean anything i swear, i don’t know why i did it but i regret it with my life” draco said breaking your thoughts, he looked older than normal and had dark circles underneath his under eyes. you wondered why he looked so distraught when he wasn’t the one who got cheated on.

“a sorry isn’t going to fix this draco” you told him. he knew you were right but he didn’t want to admit it. he hadn’t talked to pansy since the day you walked in on them, the guilt has been eating him up inside. he stayed silent and didn’t bother respond to you, he knew anything he said would have made the situation worst than it already is— but how he wished you were still his sweet y/n.

“now if you excuse me, i have some fun to attend too” you said leaving him alone as you made your way back to your dorm.

Staying in my play pretend

Where the fun, it got no end

Can't go home alone again

Need someone to numb the pain

You're gone and I gotta stay

High all the time

To keep you off my mind

over the last few weeks, you couldn’t remember the last time you were sober. you started skipping classes to smoke and avoiding your friends so they’d stop questioning your habits.

you were forgetting and that’s all that mattered, you didn’t care how it was affecting your health— it made you feel better. sometimes you wished there was another way, another way to forget how he held you at night pressing soft kisses to your skin, another way to forget the way he took pansy the same way he took you. you wonder if he feels as sorry as he looks, he’s the one who cheated so he can’t possibly care that much.

you hear two knocks at your door which quickly break you from your state making you more attentive, cleaning yourself up and opening the door. there stood draco— his eyes red as well, like hes been crying.

“y/n listen, i know what i did was wrong and that i tried to pretend it wasn’t me but please. i didn’t mean too, you mean the world to me. i miss you so much love.” he pleaded with you.

“y’know draco, i miss you too” you admitted. “but i’ve found a way to forget about you, maybe you should do the same”.

Gotta stay high all my life

To forget I'm missing you

-

taglist: @mauvea @teenwolfbitches28 @ilygw @nic0lodean @s1ater @henqtic @justreadingficsdontmindme @i-love-scott-mccall @harmqnia @gwlvr @alishahpotter

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 31: Veritaserum

186 days.

That's how long Draco had been held in the Department of Mysteries, trapped in a cell that barely left him enough room to lie down except when they came to take him out and interrogate him.

Draco'd relived the horrors of the past two years, over and over through their invasive questioning, through their digging around in his mind, through the imperious curse, and most recently through a stint of days spent with veritaserum flowing through his veins.

He heard their footsteps coming down the hallway, their voices recapping what they'd learned so far. Day 6 of veritaserum. He used his nail to scratch another line in the wall next to his thin mattress.

187 days.

Then he heard a third voice, a voice he would have recognized anywhere. "Veritaserum?" Potter asked, sounding incredulous for some reason. "But that's illegal."

"Auror Potter, I'll remind you that you're out of your jurisdiction here. You have no say in what happens or the means used to collect intelligence that is invaluable when it comes to protecting future generations."

"And," the man, whose breath always smelled stale and turned Draco's stomach, added, "There are no 'laws' during wartime when we need to catch criminals."

"The war is over," Potter replied, voice sharp and something in the pit of Draco's stomach thrilled at that.

"Out of your jurisdiction," the woman reminded.

A moment later, there was a sharp rap of a wand against the metal bar of his cell and the man called, "Let's go, Malfoy."

He stood, moving toward the door with his head down, and that was when he felt it; the crackle of Potter's magic around him like static electricity.

Draco couldn't resist looking up at that, meeting Potter's eyes. The green was blazing, he's furious and Draco wondered what (or whom) that fury was directed at. His fists were clenched at his sides, shoulders stiff.

Even with all of the obvious tension, Potter looked good, Draco thought; healthy, strong, handsome, like he had the entire world at his feet. Which, to be fair, he probably did. He wondered what Potter saw when he looked at him.

(Read more below the cut)

"Move," the woman snapped and Draco dropped his gaze from Potter, his thoughts weren't his own, not really. He couldn't afford to allow even more trouble in his mind.

He staggered down the hall, his legs feeling like they were made out of jelly, and flinched when the door to the white room opened and bright, sterile light spilled out over him. Draco made his way in and sat down in the same chair he always sat it, the shackles immediately chaining his wrists and ankles down. He fought the inevitable wave of panic as the woman walked over.

"Drink," she instructed, holding a vial to his lips.

He clenched his hands but did as he was told because it only made things worse when he didn't comply. The veritaserum flooded his mind, making his mouth feel loose and his mind feel unpleasantly open.

"Last time we talked about the treatment of muggles and muggleborns in your home under He-who-must-not-be-named, do you remember?"

"Yes," he replied.

"Today we'd like to hear about your complicity," the woman said. "We want to hear about everything that you did and that other people did to people who opposed you."

"What was it like to live in your home with He-who-must-not-be-named?"

"Horrible," Draco answered honestly, trying to keep the thoughts and memories at bay as long as he could. "I lived like a prisoner."

"The truth!" the man demanded, even though Draco couldn't have lied if he wanted to. He drew his hand back, preparing to strike Draco and Draco closed his eyes, bracing himself for the impact.

Then there was a surge of magic so strong that it made Draco breathless. He waited for the inevitable pain but there was nothing and when he opened his eyes it was to see that both of the unspeakables had collapsed forward onto the table and Potter was standing in front of him.

"Malfoy," he said and the tone of his voice made it seem like it wasn't the first time he'd said it. "Come on," he urged. "We don't have much time."

He reached out and Draco took his hand uncertainly. This couldn't be real, could it?

"Malfoy," Potter pleaded, "Please, we have to go."

Draco staggered to his feet and followed the other man down a winding set of hallways, through moving doors, and all manner of strange things before they reached a passage that wasn't dark and vaguely terrifying.

"Here," Potter said, handing him a vial. "It's polyjuice potion. You're going to look like unspeakable Harrison. Once you look like him, we're just going to walk straight out, do your best to look calm. As soon as we're outside I'm going to apparate us."

"Potter," he finally managed, "Why are you doing this?"

Potter looked at him then, really looked at him, "Can we talk about this later?" he asked. "I swear I'm not trying to trick you," he added. "Please. Just let me help you."

At this point, what did Draco have to lose? What could be worse than this? He took the potion from Potter's hand and quickly swallowed it down, trying not to gag at the unpleasant taste as his body shifted and changed.

"Keep your head down," Potter said, "Don't answer any questions. You'll still have the veritaserum in your bloodstream."

Draco nodded and Potter opened the door, it was like he morphed into a completely different person. He smiled jovially as he strode across the foyer, waving and greeting people every step of the way. Every eye in the room was on Potter and it made Draco's skin crawl to have attention focused so near to him.

It felt like an eternity but it couldn't have been more than 45 seconds before they were out of the door and Potter was offering him his elbow, "Harry Potter lives at Number 12 Grimmauld Place," he murmured.

And before Draco could ask what the bloody hell he was talking about, Potter was apparating the two of them away. They landed in the Black Ancestral Home and Draco was shocked. And confused.

So confused.

"Hold on," Potter said. "We're not out of the woods yet. Too many people know about this place." He picked up a copy of a book called Treasure Island off the side table. "Portkey," he explained quickly, "Hold on." And then as almost an after thought, he added, "Harry Potter lives at 4 Oceanview Lane."

Draco took the other side of the book and felt the hook and tug behind his belly button as they were moved through time and space.

This time when they landed, it was in soft, soft sand, and Draco staggered, trying to catch his balance. Potter clasped his elbow to steady him, "Alright?" he asked softly.

Draco nodded, "Yes," he found himself compelled to add, the Veritaserum still hadn't quite faded from his veins.

"Come on," Potter said, giving him a gentle tug toward a little cottage just up the beach.

It was a lovely little house, lots of windows and glass doors overlooking the ocean. The walls were painted in cool beiges and light blues and white curtains fluttered in the breeze.

"Are you hungry?" Potter called over his shoulder after he kicked off his shoes and headed deeper into the house.

"Starving," Draco replied and Potter turned to look at him, frowning.

"When is the last time you ate?"

He shook his head, "I don't know. Time passed funny in there. I tried to keep track," he said, "but I don't really know."

Potter's frown deepened, "Come on. Let me show you your room," he said. "I picked up some clothes for you but we'll have to go shopping later so you an pick out what you like."

"Potter," he said as he followed the other man toward the back of the house, "I don't understand."

"You're free, Draco," the other man said. "Well, not entirely because they'll be looking for you. But you're safe here, safe with me. I won't let them find you and I won't let them take you back," he added with a firm nod.

"Potter," he called again, "This doesn't even make sense."

"Please," Potter said, as though he was well aware of how little sense this all made. "I just," his shoulders slumped a bit, "I found out they were keeping you locked up in there like," he shook his head, "Like some-"

"Criminal?" Draco offered.

"Worse," Potter said, shaking his head. "And it was wrong and no one would listen to me. So this is the best I can do," he said, gesturing at the cottage around him. "A little house in the Seychelles. No one even knows this place exists except for Ron and Hermione," he added.

"i don't understand," Draco said, leaning against the wall to support himself.

"I know," Potter said, "Just. Can you trust me for now? We can talk about it more when you're not so exhausted. Come in," he added, gesturing to the room.

Draco stepped through the door to a room with hardwood floors and white walls, with a sliding glass door that lead out into the sand and the ocean beyond. The bed was covered in soft white bedding and a door at the side of the room led to a bathroom with a proper bathtub and a shower.

He was dreaming, he had to be.

"There are some things in the drawers over there for you to wear," Potter said, sounding a touch anxious. "We'll find you things you like better whenever you're ready."

He stepped over and reached out a hand to touch the bed but pulled up short when he caught sight of his filthy hands. "This is for me?" he asked, looking over at Potter.

"Yeah," he said, nodding. "There's a second room across the hall that I'm in, if you'd rather have that one, but I thought you might like to be able to see the ocean."

"I don't know what to say," he said.

"Say you'll stay," Potter asked. "At least until we can get your name cleared."

"I don't think that's ever going to happen."

Potter sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Maybe, but can we just cross that bridge when we get there?" he asked.

"Okay," Draco said because this was all so strange, everything felt surreal, but Potter seemed to breathe a sigh of relief at his acquiescence.

"I'll go make us some lunch," he said quickly. "Do you want to freshen up first?"

Draco nodded, "If that's okay?"

"Yeah," Potter said, nodding, "Yeah. Anything you want." He gave Draco a little smile, "Towels are in the cupboard on the left when you go into the bathroom; there's soap, shampoo, conditioner, and the like in the shower," he added. "I'll be in the kitchen. Just shout if you need anything."

Draco watched him go, still very confused. But for the first time in a very long time, just a little bit hopeful.

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

Part 2 to this story is up! Read it here.

Part 3 is up! You can read it here.

Read Part 4 here!

Part 5

Day 30: Likeness | Day 32: After Wedding Fluff

Ahh! Nonnie. I did not anticipate loving this prompt so much. I could hardly bring myself to stop writing. Thanks so much for this prompt.

If y'all want more of this story, please drop me an ask or leave a comment. I'd definitely be up for writing more if people want to read it. :)

[tpwkjerii]

oh, zombie!

you’re certain you’ve met the end when you’re cornered by flesh-hungry zombies, but a man with a bat and the bone structure of a god proves you otherwise.

pairing: jungkook x reader

warnings: cursing, shooting guns, weapons, mentions of death, minor angst, fluff, blood, zombies (duh), attempted murder, kinda heated makeout session, namjoon is an accidental cockblock, kissing

genre: zombie apocalypse au, thrill/gore (not too descriptive or graphic), strangers to lovers

word count: 9.8k+

a/n: the zombies in this fic have enhanced smell for corpses and human stress hormones!! and help i have like two other jk drafts rn (& disclaimer: i don’t own the gif above!!)

Fucked.

That was the best word to describe you and your current predicament. Now, with the loud groans of at least four zombies and heavy bangs against the door ringing in your ears, you were really starting to regret entering this grocery store.

You knew you should have trusted your gut when you first approached the store, but the thought of having actual food (not the dry ramen packets you were currently surviving on) and more water (you were on your last bottle) tempted you to push open the glass door and rush into the supermarket without so much as a noise scan. It took only eight seconds for the zombies and their enhanced smell to know that you entered. You were barely able to grab a single bottle of water before you heard an eerily low groan and immediately rushed for shelter in the dairy freezer.

Your twenty seconds of recklessness led you to where you are now, pushed against a cold door while zombies banged heavily against it. You held onto the inner lock as you reached down for your gun, which you were certain only had a few more bullets; regardless, it was your best shot at escaping this store alive. Gathering yourself, you inhaled and exhaled deeply with hope that you could shoot them all fast enough.

Just as you were about to release the lock and face your fate, the groans fell silent and were replaced by the sound of heavy and almost cartoon-like thwacks. Your feet froze as you realized that that was no sound or action a zombie could make — there was another human outside. You had only a few seconds to decide your next move, which would ultimately decide your future and whether you die in the middle of a grocery store dairy storage freezer or not.

Whoever killed the zombies outside could either be a kind-hearted person who didn’t want to see you succumb to a tragic fate or a person who wanted to save you from death by zombies only to kill you for your survival supplies. Considering the fact that they just knocked at least four zombies on their own, you prayed that it wasn’t the latter.

A few silent seconds passed until you eventually moved your hand, and you prayed that this wouldn’t be your second fatal mistake of the day as you slowly unlocked and opened the heavy steel door. Your gun visible in your other hand, you stepped out to see who your potential savior (or murderer) was.

Your eyes landed on the face of an extremely handsome man. Despite the obvious disarray he was in (then again, everyone who manages to survive during a zombie apocalypse is at least some form of messed up), it was clear as day that he was attractive. He had alluring doe-shaped eyes that were deceivingly innocent-looking, long dark hair that fell messily over his forehead, and the facial structure of an absolute god. The cut on his lip, small scratches scattered across his face, and his silver earrings only added to his intimidating impression, and upon seeing the heavy metal bat he held in his right hand, you instinctively tighten your grip on your handgun.

You were so enraptured by his captivating appearance that you nearly forgot the situation you were in.

“Who - who are you?” you finally asked, attempting to keep your voice as level as possible and praying that your face wasn’t red since he definitely noticed you checking him out.

He didn’t look intimidated at all, and a part of you died internally when his lip curled into a smirk. This was not looking good for you. “Are you gonna put that gun down?” he asked, the depth and warmth of his voice throwing you off. He laughed as you only blinked and he continued, “You certainly didn’t have a problem with me when you were checking me out earlier, so why keep the gun up now, babygirl?”

If you weren’t blushing before, you definitely were now. You cursed under your breath as you moved your hand down and quickly placed your gun back in your thigh holster, deciding that he was safe and probably wouldn’t kill you. “I wasn’t checking you out,” you muttered, and he laughed at your obvious lie.

“Whatever makes you feel better, babygirl,” he said, a teasing tone in his airy voice.

Your brows knitted together in irritation at the pet name. “Don’t call me that,” you mumbled, looking down at your worn sneakers awkwardly.

He laughed again, and you found yourself oddly enchanted to his tiny laugh. He took a step towards you, causing you to look up at him as he told you, “I won’t call you ‘babygirl’ if you tell me what your name is.”

You cleared your throat awkwardly before you answered, “My name’s Y/N, what’s yours?”

He grinned, which somehow turned his entire demeanor upside down. With his wide smile, he was no longer the intimidating guy that took down three zombies on his own with just a bat, but rather a nice guy that just wanted to help out a fellow human from being killed by zombies.

“Jungkook,” he answered simply as he began to walk away from you and through the store aisles.

“Jungkook,” you repeated, familiarizing the way his name rolled off your tongue with a nod. “So, Jungkook, what brought you into this store?” you asked, rushing to walk alongside him and skim through the aisles.

“This your first time outside, Y/N?” he asked, abruptly stopping to turn and look at you. You froze and dropped the bag of chips you were holding at the sudden eye contact. He sighed and moved to pick up the chips and place it back onto the shelves. “I was wandering around the area, and I saw that you walked right into a trap,” he told you.

“A trap?” you asked, your mouth falling open in surprise.

He nodded and motioned for you to help him fill his rucksack with water bottles. “Looters will leave trace scents or pieces of human remains to attract zombies to popular places survivors will drift to. Once any survivors enter and get killed by the zombies, the looters will come back, off the zombies, and take their supplies,” he explained with a grimace.

Your face twisted, and you suddenly felt even luckier that Jungkook saved you. “How do you know? I mean, how did you know that the looters were here?” you asked, still a bit unsettled at the fact that you basically walked straight-first into a death trap.

Jungkook zipped up his backpack, now full of at least 20 water bottles, and headed towards the dried foods. “I spotted one of their vans when I was walking around, so I figured they were in the area. Then I saw you entering the store and bingo — I was right,” he told you nonchalantly as he stuffed various dried fruits and snacks into his pockets.

“Take some of these,” he added, gesturing towards the few remaining dark chocolate bars.

You nodded, briefly admiring his casual attitude as you shoved two handfuls of the chocolate into your jacket pockets. “How did you recognize them? Have you had any… run-ins with them?” you wondered curiously, picking up your pace to match his quicker steps as he made his way down the remaining store aisles.

“They approached me to join them when this whole thing started,” he started, pausing to laugh softly at the shocked expression on your face. He shook his head as he continued, “I said no because what they do is twisted. Luring people to their deaths for some sick form of fun. They say they do it for the supplies but we all know that’s a lie.”

You nodded your head thoughtfully. “Oh, well, I guess that’s an admirable and sane choice.”

He murmured in agreement, and you walked alongside him, unconsciously humming a song that had been stuck in your head for a while. Being with Jungkook, who was both stronger and more knowledgeable than you, provided you with a sense of comfort. Additionally, he wasn’t shooing you off and willingly accepted your company (for the past 10 minutes, at least). Before you even knew it, you two reached the front store doors.

He walked out first, holding the door open behind him. You faltered, a second thought of “does he really want me to go with him?” running through your head.

He raised a brow, opening the door a bit wider. “You coming?”

“Wh- what?” you stuttered in disbelief.

“Do you want to come with me or not?” he asked. “C’mon, babygirl. We don’t have all day. Those looters are bound to come back soon.”

At the mention of those evil people, your legs moved instantly. You rushed out of the door towards Jungkook’s side and eagerly turned to face him. “Where to?”

He laughed, and you swore it was one of the most enchanting tones you’ve ever heard, before saying, “What’s the place you’re staying in like?”

You thought back to your small home and the painful disarray it was in. It was a miracle that you were able to survive so long considering how ill-prepared you were for an apocalypse to happen.

“Er, probably not as good as yours,” you answered sheepishly.

“Fair enough.” He nodded at the anticipated answer and began to walk in the opposite direction that you came from. You continued alongside him, internally screaming at how lucky you were. Not only did Jungkook completely save your life, he let you stay with him! You didn’t understand why, seeing as you were arguably an impediment to his survival, but you were grateful regardless.

The city around you was lifeless. What was once home to millions of citizens and the hustle and bustle of daily routines was reduced to empty stone buildings, the only people left either roaming as the undead or too afraid to come out. Within two weeks, the city and all its people changed entirely.

As you walked alongside Jungkook, you wondered what type of life he led before the apocalypse. Was he a student like you? Did he have a job? Was he a police officer or firefighter? Did he have family?

Several questions imposed themselves in your brain, and it was enough to almost distract you from Jungkook’s words.

“That van over there is a looter van,” he informed you, pointing towards a parked black van that had unrecognizable red symbols sprayed on it. “Each one has different symbols on it, but they’re all in red so they know where each one is and don’t mess up a potential job.”

You nodded and absorbed his words. You definitely passed a van like that when you were walking towards the store. “That’s good to know,” you whispered, your voice strained with mild fear.

He didn’t say anything else in response and continued forward, gently tugging you along with him when you lingered in your spot a second too long as you stared at the van.

Jungkook led you for a few more minutes, each second only increasing your curiosity as to where he was taking you and what he was really like. Silence prevailed until you heard a low groan and the distinguishable sound of a foot dragging along gravel. You stiffened and unconsciously moved to grip Jungkook’s hand.

He stopped in his tracks and gently pushed you towards a building wall. Once both your backs were pressed flat against the stone wall, he adjusted the grip on his bat and you reached for the gun in your thigh holster. The zombie’s groans grew louder as it approached. You knew they couldn’t see and had a very limited sense of hearing, but you wondered if you or Jungkook had anything on you that attracted its hunger for rotting flesh or stress.

You held your breath as the zombie came into view, its decaying body and unsettling groans disturbing you. It walked closer, although not directly towards you. You raised your gun the same time as Jungkook lifted his bat, but you didn’t have to pull the trigger and Jungkook didn’t have to swing as the zombie only walked straight past you two, leaving only its rotting scent behind.

You breathed out in relief and relaxed your shoulders as you placed your handgun back in its holster. “Thank god,” you whispered.

“Let’s go,” was all Jungkook said before he grabbed your hand and pulled you with him. It seemed like you weren’t the only one anxious to get out of the open.

Jungkook’s home was much, much better than yours (if you could even call your tiny studio that).

“Holy shit,” you whispered as you admired the fortified mansion. High stone walls and a metal gate surrounded the large two-story house. “You have this place all to yourself?” you asked Jungkook. Now you were really curious what his profession before this was.

He shook his head as he unlocked the gate with a key. “A few friends live with me,” he answered simply before slipping the key back in his jean pocket. “They should all be awake by now.”

You nodded and followed closely behind him as he walked up the short pathway to the front door. As he opened the door, you heard a loud yell come from within.

“Kookie!” he yelled, his voice smooth and deep.

You saw Jungkook’s face turn red as he quickly shut the door with a slightly mortified facial expression.

“Uh -”

The door burst open. “Kookie!” a man shouted before enveloping Jungkook into a tight hug. You stepped to the side, observing the affectionate interaction with a grin. The man who barreled into Jungkook had black, fluffy hair that was held back by a black hairband. He was on the thinner side, but still built, and appeared to be a bit taller and tanner than Jungkook. When he released the hug and turned to face you, your breath hitched.

He was attractive.

“Who’d you bring home?” he asked Jungkook, a boxy smile directed towards you.

“Her name is Y/N, I caught her just before some zombies got her,” Jungkook answered as he nudged you and the man inside.

As you stepped through the front door, you observed the large home’s tasteful interior. A pristine white kitchen was to the right of you, apparently well-stocked based on the two open cabinets that were filled with snacks and ramen. To the left of you was an open living room with one large couch and two smaller ones surrounding a paper-filled coffee table and a large TV mounted onto the wall.

Impressive, you thought.

The fluffy-haired man stepped in front of you, his contagious smile still going strong. “I’m Taehyung. It’s nice to meet you!”

You smiled at him. It’d been a while since you met new people, much less people with such warm and friendly dispositions. “It’s nice to meet you too,” you returned honestly.

Jungkook cleared his throat, announcing suddenly, “I’ll show Y/N around.”

You turned to face him, noticing that he had taken off his bags and leather jacket. His bare arms were now exposed, and you immediately noticed how sculpted he was. A sleeve of various tattoos decorated one of his arms, drawing your attention to the ink on his defined muscles. His other arm was more bare, but still had a few figures on it. Realizing that you were probably staring for too long, you tore your eyes away with a nod before you set down your own bag and followed Jungkook.

He took you past the living room and kitchen through a hallway, showing you where the first floor bathroom, in-home gym, and office were. You gaped at the book-filled office that also housed several weapons. Lined across the wall were several guns, knives, and other weapons you couldn’t even name. After you recovered from what you saw in the office, he led you up the stairs.

“This is Taehyung and Jimin’s room,” he said, pointing to the first door in the hallway. “Jin and Yoongi’s.” He pointed to the door next to the first one. “Namjoon’s.” He then pointed towards the first door on the opposite side of the hall. “And mine.” He pointed to the door next to Namjoon’s.

You nodded, resisting the urge to ask about their family members since you knew it could be a sensitive subject for them. “Are they all home?” you wondered. “Well, except for Taehyung, I guess,” you added as an afterthought.

Jungkook nodded. “Jin, Yoongi, and Jimin are probably in their rooms. Namjoon will be out for the next few days getting some stuff, so you can stay in his room for now.”

Your lips parted in shock. “No, no! That’s his room. It’s fine, I can sleep on the couches if anything!”

“It’s fine, he won’t mind,” Jungkook insisted.

But you shook your head in persistence. “Really, I’m completely fine with the couch. I wouldn’t want to make Namjoon feel uncomfortable or anything.”

He sighed and shrugged, seemingly relenting to your wishes. “Alright, we can head back down then,” he said as he turned back to the stairs.

Before you followed him, your eyes landed on the last door all the way down the hallway. You had no idea what was behind it, yet it still emitted an ominous and mysterious aura that called out to you. “Wait,” you said before you even thought about it. Just as he turned to face you, the realization that he probably didn’t tell you what was in that room for a reason (whatever that was) hit you.

“Er - nevermind!” You laughed awkwardly, hoping he would drop it. But it was too late — he already noticed your lingering gaze on the locked door.

“Don’t go in that room,” he stated bluntly before turning around, not giving you a chance to respond. “There’s nothing in there that’s of importance to you,” he added as he walked down the stairs. You rushed to follow him after him, still intimidated to be in this big house with completely new people, muttering words of agreement.

Everyone in this house was shockingly nice. Jimin was undeniably kind and spent your entire first night at your side, making sure you felt comfortable in this new place. Yoongi, although more reserved, didn’t hesitate to check if you were alright whenever you spaced out or got scared by a sudden noise. Lastly, Jin was incredibly attentive; from asking you if you had any food allergies or if you preferred baths or showers, he did his best to welcome you.

(They were all also really attractive, but that's besides the point).

Before you knew it, a week passed. Seven days of playing board games with Jimin and Taehyung, cooking with Jin, talking about conspiracy theories with Yoongi, and working out (and trying to avoid) with Jungkook.

Why were you trying to avoid him? Well, despite having met Jungkook first, you couldn’t help but start to feel awkward around him. Not because he made you feel uncomfortable or the reverse, but rather due to your undeniable attraction to him. It certainly didn’t help that his personality complemented his beautiful appearance well. On the outside, Jungkook appeared cold and intimidating, but on the inside he was soft and kind. He was exactly like one of the many fictional characters you’d fallen in love with before.

Your first official day at the house, you kept your cool pretty well. Of course, Jungkook and his endearing behavior and large, doe eyes had to ruin it. Then again, it was also on you for not listening to your initial instinct of avoiding the gym machines. What exactly happened?

Well, after three failed attempts of using the machine from hell (you didn’t even know it’s name), Jungkook finally decided that it was just getting sad and moved from his machine to help you.

“You’re supposed to use your arms to bring it back,” he said with a teasing tone as he neared you. You jumped in your seat and looked up at the mirror to see his figure stopping directly behind you. Your breath hitched as he leaned down and… oh fuck, did his arms just brush up against yours?

Face burning red, you looked away with a violent cough. “Er, I knew that.”

He laughed softly at your embarrassed expression, the enchanting sound of his lap wreaking havoc on your already weak heart. You turned towards him and gently pushed his chest with a scoff.

“You don’t have to laugh at me,” you grumbled.

“Sometimes I can’t help it,” he countered with a smug smile.

You particularly liked when he smiled since he reminded you of a bunny whenever he did — especially when he had a large smile and his eyes formed happy, crescent moons with twinkling stars. Jungkook’s grin (and laugh) was as infectious as Taehyung’s and Jin’s, and he was, overall, a perfect person in your eyes. Even as he made fun of you (jokingly, of course), you swore he was sent from the stars above.

Deciding it best to not catch feelings for your savior and person who graciously housed you, you tried to keep your distance from him since then. Whenever he entered the room, you tried your best to subtly leave (bless Seokjin for being exceptionally understanding of your “cramps”) and when he tried talking only to you or directing the conversation to you, you roped someone else into the discussion. It worked for the most part as you talked to the others more and ignored the way Jungkook made your heart race whenever you thought about him, but today you were out of luck.

“Y/N and Jungkook, supplies run today.”

You gaped at Jin from your spot on the couch. “What? Me? Are you sure?” you asked, silently pleading with your eyes.

He rolled his eyes and nodded, bending down to gently pat your head. “Yes, you. Don’t worry, you’ll have Kookie with you.”

“And this,” Yoongi added as he dropped a gun much larger than your small handgun in your lap.

You looked up at him in shock. “I don’t know how to use this!”

He shrugged. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out if you’ll need to use it.”

“C’mon, Y/N. You’re gonna have to pull your weight if you wanna stay with us,” Taehyung told you, winking at you when Jungkook entered the living room with his gear. Your eyes widened at him, but you couldn’t say anything as Jungkook approached you.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

You sighed and stood up begrudgingly. With an excessively-large gun in hand and empty backpack strapped to you, you exited the house with Jungkook at your side. Together, you silently walked down the same path he took you up almost a week ago.

You embraced the peacefulness of this secluded area. Jungkook’s home was quite secluded, and the surrounding trees were home to blissful breezes and a variety of chirping animals. Despite the downfall of humanity, it seemed that wildlife was flourishing, you noted.

“So I guess I’ll ask now,” Jungkook started, capturing your attention. You turned and looked up at him, anxiously waiting for him to continue. “Were you staying with anyone before? I assume not since you’re with us now…”

You shook your head. Your voice lowered as you answered, “I was all by myself.” He frowned while you continued. “My parents were on a trip abroad with my best friend Hobi when it happened.” Your eyes teared up as you mentioned your family and Hobi, who was basically your older brother.

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook said softly, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“It’s ok,” you mumbled. “The last call I got from my parents before all the cell towers went down, Hobi was doing alright with them. I’m thankful that they have him.”

“I’m sure that Hobi is doing a good job taking care of himself and your parents,” he responded soothingly.

You nodded, blinking your tears away as you diverted your gaze towards your moving feet. “So what about you?” you asked after a few silent moments. “Do you have any family?”

He cleared his throat and tightened his grip on his backpack. “My parents didn’t make it,” he answered bluntly.

Your head whipped towards him. “I’m so sorry,” you said rushedly. “I don’t know why I even asked you, I overste-”

“It’s fine,” he cut you off, gently turning your head to face the road path ahead of you two. “I was the one who asked first, anyways.”

You looked down again in shame. “Sorry again,” you murmured.  

Jungkook smiled down at you before a small laugh escaped his lips. Your heart picked up it’s pace when he laced his hand with yours and pulled you forward. “Come on, the supplies won’t get themselves.”

You felt an odd sense of deja vu as you ran out of the grocery store, Jungkook following behind you and a horde of hungry zombies behind the both of you.

But let’s back up a few moments to ten minutes prior to this predicament.

You and Jungkook finally reached the grocery store that Jin had been scoping out via hidden camera for the past week. Your eyes were delighted by the sight of shelves lined with a variety of foods and freezers that still had cold air circulating behind the glass doors.

“This is one of the few places that run on solar power, so the electricity still functions in here,” Jungkook explained when he noticed your confusion at how he was able to turn off the lights and the gust of cold air that greeted him as he opened one of the freezer doors to grab an ice cream bar.

“I’m surprised no one’s hit this place up yet,” you said as you took out the list of supplies that Jin gave you before you left.

“Jin’s been watching this place for a while. He thinks no one’s come here because it’s kinda far away.”

You nodded in agreement, thinking back to the long walk you and Jungkook took to get here. You supposed not many people wanted to risk being out in the open for so long and didn’t find the commute worth it.

“Is Jin watching us right now?” you asked Jungkook curiously.

During your short few days at their house, you quickly learned each person’s role. Yoongi, who used to be an engineer, builds all the cameras and weapons. Jin, a former director and computer whiz, monitors the cameras that he and Taehyung set up around the city. Taehyung, a film and dance student, helps Jin set up the cameras in obscure places and trains with Jungkook and Jimin. Jimin, a skilled dancer, often accompanies Jungkook and Taehyung during training and supplies runs. Unfortunately, Jimin sprained his ankle recently and Taehyung injured his arm during training, leaving the supplies-run to Jungkook.

The only person you had yet to meet was Namjoon. According to the others, Namjoon was a former pre-med student and scientist who was on a trip to find something. Of course, they didn’t tell you what that something was. And while you were curious, you also didn’t want to overstep your boundaries and risk being kicked out.

“Probably, he usually watches camped out places to monitor and che-”

You and Jungkook both turned your head at the recognizable low rumble of a car. He was quick to grab your hand and pull you down onto the ground, out of view from the front glass windows. You held your breath at the sound of a car door opening and then the ringing bell as the front door was pulled open a few seconds later.

Jungkook reached towards his large gun, but he halted when he recognized the distinguishable stench that the random person carried in. Your eyes widened when Jungkook began panicking, his fingers fumbling for his walkie talkie.

You heard a heavy thud and the sound of the ringing bell again as the mysterious person exited the store. You waited until the rumbling of the car grew distant before you looked up and cursed loudly.

“Fuck! He dumped a dead body here!” you cried, stomach churning at the sight of the pale corpse.

Jungkook groaned from beside you and rushed towards the front of the store, poking his head out of the door and looking both ways. “Fucking looters!” he cursed as he moved his head back and hit the window.

Steering clear of the dead body, you walked towards Jungkook and craned your head to see what he was looking at. The sight of several zombies, more stumbling out of random buildings and streets to join the crowd, heading straight for the store. “Shit! What are we gonna do! They’re already down the block!”

Jungkook ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “Fuck, ok, did you get everything?”

You quickly scanned through the paper list and peered into your open backpack. “Most, but I forgot to get some things,” you answered quickly as you mentally checked off each item you saw.

“Which ones?” Jungkook asked, already zipping up his backpack.

A blush spread across your chest and neck, and you wished that you didn’t have to answer. But judging by Jungkook’s stressed face as the zombies’ groans grew louder, you knew you were in no position to stall. “Er. Feminine hygiene stuff,” you blurted.

Jungkook paled before blushing immediately after. His body movements stuttered momentarily before he nodded and headed towards the back of the store. “Shit, ok. Start running!”

You stared at him in bewilderment. “What? I’m not leaving you behind!”

“Just go!” he shouted.

You felt the alarm in your body grow as your head darted between Jungkook’s frantically moving body and the group of zombies just down the street. Knowing that even Jungkook didn’t stand a chance against all those zombies, you ended up on a decision that you really hoped would end up working out.

“Fuck,” you whispered as you looked down at your large gun and adjusted your grip. In one swift move, you kicked open the door and began shooting the zombies, which were now coming from both directions across the street. Your aim wasn’t the best, but it was good enough to pierce bullets through a good amount of them straight in the neck or chest.

“Jungkook! Hurry up!” you cried as you held down the trigger, praying that Yoongi packed enough bullets in the gun.

Small piles of rotting bodies began forming as deceased zombies collapsed to the ground and the other ones climbed over them to get to you. But the few zombies you managed to kill were easily outweighed by all the live ones still clamoring towards you. A cry of frustration left you as you realized that the noise from the gun and the obscene amount of stress radiating from you and Jungkook were just attracting more zombies in the area.

Jungkook ran up towards you, several boxes of various tampons and pads in hand. “I didn’t know which one you wanted! Let’s go!”

In a normal situation, you would have thanked him for his thoughtfulness, but this wasn’t a normal situation by any means.

You and Jungkook ran out of the store towards the house, both turning back occasionally to shoot any zombie that was getting too close. Your breaths grew uneven from exhaustion, but the sheer amount of adrenaline pumping within you kept you and your weak legs going.

“Don’t get too tired! I’ll shoot, just keep running!” Jungkook instructed you when he noticed you clutching your side in pain.

“It’s fine, I’ll be fine!” you responded. But you spoke too soon as you tripped over a rock not even a minute later. “Shit!” you cursed as you landed on your hands and knees before immediately standing back up and catching up to Jungkook, who had stopped a few feet ahead of you when he noticed that you fell.

He didn’t say anything as he gently turned your hands over and examined them. Cuts, with blood flowing freely from them and tiny rocks stuck in between the open skin, covered the palm of your hand and your fingers. Jungkook’s eyebrows creased in concern as he moved his eyes down your body to your knees, which now had deep, bleeding gashes in them from the rocks that cut through your jeans and broke your skin.

“Jungkook, it’s fine. We have to go.” You moved your hands to your side and pulled him to continue running, cringing at how your blood stained the bottom of his black denim jacket and his hands. He cursed, obviously wanting to say something, but continued alongside you.

Thanks to the unexpected delay, the zombies had gained on you by a good few meters. You winced as you turned around and pressed the trigger of your gun, the spray of bullets taking a few of them down. But your tiny sense of relief didn’t last long as you soon heard an empty click and noticed that nothing was leaving the end of your gun — you were out of bullets.

You cursed and turned forwards again. “How many rounds do you have left?” you asked Jungkook, panting heavily as you continued running next to him.

“Not that many,” he answered, concern evident on his face.

You looked back at the relenting zombies, hot on your tail, and cursed. How were you going to get yourselves out of this one?

The answer to your question was presented to you in the form of a poorly-driven SUV that was heading down the road and straight towards you and Jungkook.

“Thank god!” Jungkook cried as he pulled you to the side and out of the vehicle’s path.

“Thank god?” you repeated in confusion.

The black SUV halted to a stop in front of you and Jungkook, the doors opening automatically.

“Get in!” you heard a new voice shout.

You and Jungkook didn’t waste a second to climb into the car, which quickly sped away once Jungkook slammed the door shut behind him. Neither of you had the chance to breathe as the zombies, which seemed to have grown even faster, jumped for the back of the car.

“How did they get even faster?” Jungkook cried as he pulled your shaking body towards him.

“The fast ones might be mutations, I found more reports on them the other day,” the silver-haired man in the front with glasses answered. You assumed that this was Namjoon, considering his answer and that Jungkook didn’t mention anyone else.

“Mutations?” you cried, jumping when a hand smacked your backseat window. “These fuckers are mutating?”

Namjoon didn’t get a chance to answer as he harshly turned the steering wheel, sending the car swerving and you and Jungkook barrelling to the other side of the car.

“Namjoon you’re so shit at driving!” Jungkook exclaimed as he rubbed the side of his head that clashed with the glass window.

Namjoon scoffed. “Don’t talk to your hyung like that when I just saved your life! And who told you not to put on seat belts?!”

“Yeah, let me just put on a seatbelt while there’s zombies cha-”

You gasped suddenly and pulled yourself up towards the front. Head directly next to Namjoon’s, you reached your bloody hands up towards the steering wheel. “There’s a bunny!” you shouted as you swerved the car out of the way, sending Jungkook to the other side of the car and wincing as your waist collided with the firm side of the passenger seat.

“Y/N, what the fuck!” you heard Jungkook moan.

“We were gonna kill the bunny!” you protested in your defense as you rubbed your side and sat back down next to Jungkook.

“We have other things to worry about!” he yelled.

“God! I’m sorry, you’re right,” you groaned as you leaned back down into the back seat.

“They’re slowing down!” Namjoon suddenly announced, his eyes focused on his windshield mirror. “Look, they’re retreating!”

You and Jungkook both turned around towards the back window. Just as Namjoon said, the zombies stopped chasing you, instead shuffling in place or back the other direction. With the threat of zombies gone, you let out a breath of relief and closed your eyes.

You kept your eyes shut as Jungkook grabbed your hands and gently ran his fingers across the open wounds, his touch sending electricity through your body. Despite the rush from his soft touch, exhaustion still tugged at you and weighed down your eyelids.

With the comforting feeling of Jungkook’s hand wrapped around yours, you drifted into unconsciousness.

Your nap was unfortunately short lived. It took only a few moments to arrive back home, and upon exiting the car, the three of you were immediately greeted by everyone else in the home.

“Y/N!!” Jimin greeted as he walked slowly over to you. Jin closely followed the blond to make sure that he didn’t hurt his ankle.

“Jimin!” you said with an equal amount of excitement, throwing your hands up into a welcoming gesture.

Jimin and Jin gasped as you revealed your bloodied and cut up hands.

“You’re hurt!” Jin sputtered as he rushed towards you. “Your knees too!”

“It’s fine, it only stings a little,” you admitted sheepishly. It wasn’t a complete lie — you didn’t exactly have the time to think about your injuries while running for your life.

Jin shook his head. “Come inside, I’ll treat the cuts a-”

“It’s fine, I can do it,” Jungkook said, suddenly appearing at your side.

The older man raised his eyebrows. “You sure, Kookie? Don’t you want to rest?”

Jungkook shook his head and silently pulled you into the house, leaving you to shrug in confusion at the guys behind you. You followed Jungkook through the first floor, up the stairs, and into his room.

His bedroom was similar to what you expected. The walls were painted a dark grey color and there wasn’t much in the room other than the basic furniture and a few pictures and art frames. You sat down on the plain black sheets as Jungkook walked to his dresser and pulled out a first aid kit.

“Why didn’t you just let Jin treat my cuts?” you asked Jungkook quietly, noticing faint signs of exhaustion in his slow movements.

He hesitated to respond. His hands stilled on the top of the red kit as he slowly responded, “I thought this was the only way I’d be able to speak with you… alone.”

“Why?” you asked, praying that you weren’t blushing as assumptions instantly formed in your mind.

He cleared his throat and opened the kit, instantly reaching for several bandaids, disinfectant pads, and antibacterial wound ointment. “Well,” he started as he gently grabbed your hands and turned them so your palms were facing up. He opened the pack of disinfectant pads and swiped them across your hands and knees. “I wanted to ask you why you’ve been avoiding me the past few days.”

Your heart dropped. You didn’t realize that Jungkook noticed how you tried your best to steer clear of him; but it wasn’t like you could really tell him that it was because you were starting to have feelings for him,

“Was it something I said? I did?” he asked as he spread the cold ointment on the open wounds.

“No,” you answered quickly — a little too quickly judging by the way his head darted up to meet your eyes. You blushed under his stare and continued, “You didn’t do anything to offend me, Jungkook.”

“Then why are you avoiding me?” His voice was uncharacteristically soft, almost pleading.

You groaned inwardly and wished you could cover your face with your hands, but Jungkook held them firmly in his as he bandaged them. A few seconds of dragged-on silence passed before you looked down at your lap and responded vaguely. “I didn’t want to make things awkward between us.”

His hands stopped and his brows furrowed in confusion. “Why would things be awkward between us?”

Blood rushed to your face as you looked up to make painful eye contact with him. “Do you really want to know?” you whined, already anticipating Jungkook’s answer since you’d become quite familiar with his stubbornness over the past few days.

“Yes,” he started. “Please tell me,” he said, feigning an expression of a wounded puppy.

You cursed under your breath and brought your freshly bandaged hands (you ignored that one of the bandages was only half on, courtesy of Jungkook’s prior confusion) up to your face.

“Do you promise not to make fun of me? Or kick me out?”

He laughed, although the soft sound didn’t match the nervousness in his expression. “Yes, I promise.”

His words prompted you to breathe in deeply, mentally preparing yourself for your confession. You can do this, you said to yourself. If you could shoot and run from at least thirty zombies, then you could definitely tell Jungkook you had feelings for him. Right?

It wasn’t like you could keep on avoiding him forever, anyways. With the rate that the apocalypse was going and based off the past few days, it looked like you were going to be at this house a while. You just hoped that your reveal wouldn’t make your stay awkward for either him or you.

Jungkook cleared his throat. “Y/N?”

You hummed, still stuck in your thoughts before finally responding. “I… I may or may not be incredibly attracted to you and have feelings for you,” you admitted reluctantly. Jungkook’s lips parted in shock, but he didn’t get a chance to respond before you continued in a panic. “You already promised you wouldn’t make fun of me or kick me out! No take backs!”

He laughed, and you cringed as you were sure it was a laugh of rejection and that the dulcet notes would be a new cause of your nightmares. But the words he said after proved the opposite.

“That’s a relief.” You looked up, a bewildered look on your face. “I like you too,” he mumbled bashfully, his long hair falling in front of his face as he looked down at his lap.

Your body froze. “D-Did I hear that right? Have I not gone crazy?”

He looked back up at you with a grin. “Crazy for me,” he joked with a wink.

Unimpressed, your face dropped. “I take it all back, I’ll go pack my-”

Jungkook shook his head with a chuckle. “Kidding, kidding,” he said, enveloping his slender hands around yours. “But I was completely serious about liking you back.”

“Really?” you asked, still in slight disbelief that Jungkook, who could literally have his portrait and biography in a hall of all Earthly legends, had feelings for you.

“Yes, really.”

You opened your mouth, ready to shoot a doubtful reply, but Jungkook cut you off with the lift of his hand. He rested his hand back down around yours before continuing, “I know you’re probably going to say something self-deprecating or a joke or ask me if i’m joking again, so you might as well let me speak first.”

He grinned at the way your face heated, priding himself on how well he knew you already.

“The way you wish each of us goodnight every night, the way you wake up early to help Jin prepare breakfast, the way you cuss whenever you’re nervous, the way you always try to keep up with whatever stuff we’re doing - even when it’s stupid - and keep a smile on your face; everything about you made me fall for you. Even before the apocalypse, I never felt this way for anyone else.” He took a deep breath, gently squeezing your hands. “The night I first brought you here, it felt like seeing you enter that store and meeting you was fate. You make questionable decisions, we both saw that today, but I’m glad that one of them brought us together because I honestly don’t think I can ever meet anyone else like you.”

A wide smile spread across your face and tears pricked your eyes. Never in your many years of life had anyone told you such genuine, heartfelt words. And no one noticed (or appreciated) those small things about you - your habits that were always brushed over - like Jungkook did.

You agreed with his claim of you making questionable (stupid) decisions, but in this moment you were thankful for your sometimes-dangerous spontaneity and rash decision making. Because if it weren’t for that sudden moment of desperation where you ran into the grocery store, you never would have met Jungkook. Your heart wouldn’t be racing like it was right now and your hands wouldn’t be warm from the feeling of his wrapped around them.

“What do you say?” he asked weakly, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“What is there to say?” you countered before you released your hands from his and interlocked your fingers around his lower body. The position was a bit awkward, but you didn’t mind. Less than a few seconds later, your lips were pressed against his.

Jungkook moved his hands from the small of your back to your neck up to your hair. He pulled you in closer to him as he deepened the kiss. You gasped and tightened your grip around him as he effortlessly lifted you up so you were sitting on his lap with your legs wrapped around his waist. He swiped his tongue against your bottom lip and gently bit it, drawing a moan from you.

You shifted in his lap, pulling a deep groan from him as he pulled away from your lips to trail kisses down your jaw and neck. A shiver ran down your spine as you felt him suck on your collarbone and upper chest to leave marks for him to see the next day. Just as Jungkook slipped his cool hands under your shirt, a startling voice rang from the other side of the door.

“Jungkook!”

The long-haired boy beneath you groaned in annoyance but continued to kiss you. “Just ignore him, he’ll go away,” Jungkook mumbled against your lips as he dragged his hands against the skin of your stomach.

You nodded, embracing the fiery feeling of his kisses and his hands against your bare skin.

“Jungkook!” the voice cried again, causing Jungkook to curse and groan again. “It’s urgent!”

“This better be good,” Jungkook grumbled as he reluctantly pulled away from you.

You frowned at the loss of his touch, but you didn’t have much time to mourn it as he instantly straightened his back once Namjoon said, “It’s about Project B.”

Your brows raised at Jungkook’s sudden reaction to whatever this “Project B” was. He turned to you with an apologetic look before gently setting you onto the bed and moving towards the door.

“Sorry,” he apologized quickly as he straightened his shirt. “I’ll talk to you tonight, I promise.” With that, he was out the door, leaving you in his room with only your thoughts (and hands and knees that had yet to be fully bandaged).

It had been nearly 8 hours since Jungkook had promised that he would speak to you at night. By now, the moon was high in the sky, it’s radiant glow doing nothing to calm your nerves. You knew that whatever Jungkook and Namjoon had to discuss was urgent, but how could he just leave you like that? You were barely able to process the best kiss of your life by the time you realized that you were still sitting stupidly on his bed after he left the room.

You sighed and moved from the window seat in the living room to the kitchen. Joining Jin at the counter, you plopped your head against the stone material with a groan.

“Jungkook and Joon are still in their little lab?” he guessed, nonchalantly flipping his book to the next page.

You nodded pitifully, now knowing that the mysterious room was a lab of some sorts.

“Here,” Jin said before standing suddenly, prompting you to look up at him. He grabbed a bowl of washed fruits from beside the sink and gestured for you to take it. “Bring it up to them.”

“But Jungkook said I ca-”

“I don’t care what he said. Tell him that they shouldn’t have skipped dinner,” Jin instructed firmly.

You nodded, a bit intimidated by Jin’s sudden sternness, and quickly took the bowl with you up the stairs. You slowly approached the door at the end of the hall, the ceramic bowl filled with strawberries and peeled clementines wobbling in your shaky hands. As you took each step, you imagined Jungkook bursting through the door and expressing his disappointment in you for even thinking about entering the room.

Luckily, that didn’t come and you reached the door in less than a minute.

Clearing your throat, you knocked against the door with your elbow. “Jungkook?” you called.

No response.

“Jungkook? Namjoon?” you called again, only to be met with what sounded like a low groan.

Your breath hitched in your throat. That noise didn’t sound pleasant at all.

You placed a weary hand on the door knob but quickly pulled it away as if it was burning hot. Debating thoughts battled in your hand: Jungkook clearly told you not to go in the room but what if Jungkook or Namjoon was in trouble? Wouldn’t leaving despite knowing that one of them could be hurt make you a terrible person (or girlfriend—you didn’t really know what you and Jungkook were yet)?

Taking a deep breath, you grabbed the silver doorknob and twisted it open. You stepped into the dimly lit room slowly, gasping at the sight before you.

“Lab” was definitely the right word to describe the room that almost mirrored your high school chemistry class. Seven tables sat in the room, four of which were filled with stacks of papers and folders while the other three had various lab equipment tools atop the black tabletops. It didn’t just end at the tables either.

“What is all this?” you mumbled to yourself as you examined the crowded walls. There was barely an inch of blank wall left as papers, newspaper clippings, photos (some rather disturbing), and notes decorated the wall like a second wallpaper.

You slowly walked through the room, examining the items pinned to the walls. Most of it was related to the zombie apocalypse, with newspapers (from when those were still around) detailing the first outbreaks and theories of the cause and papers filled with concepts you barely remembered from chemistry, physiology, and biology. Accompanying the scientific notes and articles were several pictures, some of zombies and others of medical abnormalities that you couldn’t quite explain.

One picture caught your eye, and you barely managed to place the fruit bowl down on a table with just enough space for it before you rushed over to the photo. The aged photo had three people, presumably a family, in it. A mother and father stood proudly behind their son, their hands on his shoulders as he beamed at the camera with his hands on his lap. The boy looked familiar. His round eyes and bunny-like smile eerily reminded you of -

“What are you doing?”

The unexpected voice sent a shiver down your body, and you jumped as you turned around to face him.

Jungkook.

You mentally hit yourself — you were so distracted by the items of the room that you failed to notice Jungkook waking up at his spot with Namjoon, slouched over and faces pressed onto one of the paper-filled tables.

“Um,” you started, unable to find the right words as you stared at his unreadable facial expression. You couldn’t tell if he was angry, disappointed, sad, scared, or possibly even all four.

He let out a frustrated groan and ran his tattooed hand through his long hair. “Just tell me what you saw,” he instructed firmly.

“N-not much!” you stuttered, your eyes wide. “I — Jin fruit! Yes! I just came here to bring you Jin — I mean fruit! I came to bring you fruit! Like Jin told me to!” Heat spread across your face as you attempted to explain yourself.

Jungkook’s eyes narrowed between you and the ceramic fruit bowl you pointed to, and he would’ve laughed at your clear disarray if he didn’t feel so anxious.

“You were looking at the walls, you must have seen something,” he deduced.

Your body stuttered as you gestured towards the photo you were looking at. “Nope! Just some things about zombies and… and this picture of you — fun stuff!”

He sighed and you cringed as he placed his hands on your shoulders. But he didn’t scold you or tell you how disappointed he was like you expected; instead, he let his head fall and mumbled something that you weren’t sure if it was meant towards you or himself.

“I guess it’s time I told you the truth.”

Your brows furrowed at his words. The truth? Judging by the contents of the room, they were studying the zombies; and it wasn’t all that surprising considering that Namjoon was technically a scientist and almost-doctor. Why was Jungkook so afraid to tell you?

He lifted his head up, and your heart clenched at the look of pure vulnerability on his face. “Will you promise me that you won’t judge me or run away?” he whispered.

You nodded. “Of course.”

“My parents were scientists who worked for the national lab. I didn’t really know what happened at their work or what projects they were doing because I was in university doing my own stuff,” he paused and briefly closed his eyes to take in a deep breath, “but one day I went home and they told me about an idea they had that was so great.

Super humans, they said. Humans with enhanced senses that would make them superior to regular humans and form the perfect army. I told them it was a shitty idea and that this was stuff they shouldn’t mess with, but they got upset and kicked me out.” He laughed bitterly. “This wasn’t the first time my parents and I ever disagreed on anything, and I thought they were smart enough to not go through with it so I just left. But I guess I was wrong because one day something at the lab went wrong.”

Jungkook hesitated for a second upon seeing the disturbed expression on your face — you knew exactly where this was heading.

He willed himself to continue. “A few months later I got a call from the hospital. They told me that my parents were severely injured while at work, and when I went to see them, they told me the truth of what happened: how they went through with the project but realized too late that it was a mistake, how they were trapped by the government, and how they created monsters.

My parents died from their injuries two days later, and a week after that there was a covered-up breakout at the lab they worked in. Only one day after the breakout, there was the first outbreak in the city only a few miles away. And now we’re here, trying to find a cure for the mess my parents started.”

“I’m sorry,” you immediately said, a mournful expression on your face. You couldn’t imagine the guilt and sorrow that Jungkook must feel.

He scoffed. “Sorry? Why are you apologizing? This entire thing is my fault,” he muttered.

Your face fell and you moved to grasp his hands. “Jungkook, I don’t see how any of this is your fault,” you spoke honestly, your voice soft.

His eyes widened and he pulled his hands away from you. “Y/N, my parents are the reason this apocalypse happened! And - and they told me about their idea and I didn’t do anything to stop it!”

“You did what you could,” you stressed. “You told them it was a bad idea and they made their own adult decision to go through with it.” You took a step closer to him and looked at him in the eyes. “You can’t blame yourself for your parents’ actions.”

He shook his head and looked away. “I should’ve fought harder,” he countered stubbornly. “I’m a terrible person.”

“Jeon Jungkook, look at me.” You used your finger to turn his head so his gaze was directed towards you again. “You are not a terrible person. If you were, you wouldn’t have saved me that day at the grocery store or risked your life to get me pads or spending your days working to find a cure that isn’t even your responsibility.” You took another step towards him and slowly wrapped your arms around him. “You’re a good person, Jungkook. I’m saying this from the bottom of my heart,” you murmured with your head against his chest.

He was silent for a few moments until his body relaxed into your hold. “Thank you,” he mumbled as he gripped your waist and upper back and rested his head atop of yours. “Do you still feel… the same for me?” he questioned cautiously.

“No,” you answered quickly, causing him to quickly pull away from you in offense. You giggled at his reaction before continuing, “I like you even more now. You were honest with me and now I feel closer to you.”

His face relaxed as he let out a relieved sigh before bringing you back into his arms again. And for a few moments, the two of you simply basked in each others’ embrace.

Jungkook was the first to break the silence. “We’re not very close to finding the solution, you know,” he mentioned with a disappointed tone.

You shrugged. “It’s ok. This isn’t something you can really rush, but I’ll be here with you every step of the way.”

He pulled his head back to look down at you, a gentle expression painted on his face. “Promise?”

You smiled at him. “I promise,” you whispered before you moved to close the distance between your lips and kiss him once again.

The future was unsure for you and Jungkook and tomorrow or the next week wasn’t guaranteed. But you were sure that if there was anyone you wanted to survive and overcome a zombie apocalypse with, it was Jungkook (and his unconventional group of friends that he calls his family).

a/n: ngl i would feel so safe in a zombie apocalypse w bts akjnkas. also might write a drabble about hobi in this plot hehe. i hope you enjoyed and pls leave comments as they’re rlly encouraging and will  help me improve in the future :’))

[fuchsiagrasshopper]

Saturated

Author’s Note: Here it is, the long awaited one-shot that ended up a mini story in length. This wasn’t a planned idea, just something I went with and this is the result. I know this fandom is starting to shrink due to the show ending, but I hope those of you still here are having fun!

Masterlist

Summary/Pairing: Ivar x Reader In which Ivar thinks he’s found a daughter of the goddess Rán

Wordcount: 9642

Warnings:  Language, Angst, Smut NSFW

The night was warm and still when Ivar made his way down to the stretching shore. It was a difficult trek the older he became because he had to wade through the sand that seemed to double his weight and sap his strength. After all that effort, he was reminded why he put himself through such a trial when he came into the blessed solitude. When he was a boy he had found an old fishermen's dock that was no longer used, and it was a quiet place he could go without being bothered. Sometimes he would look out at the water and imagine all the lands that were waiting for him to bring them terror and glory. When he was feeling less ambitious after drinking with his brothers, he would lie back on the creaking boards of the dock and gaze at the stars and wonder if the gods were watching in forethought.

His mother told him it was the sea that would take him from her. Her eyes would grow empty yet full of sadness, and he could only watch without being able to comfort her. Ivar wanted to journey, and he assumed his mother's vision meant that either it was by ship or drowning that he would be taken. When one entered a longboat to go raiding, the chance of a storm crashing down was always a possibility, but it was a risk worth taking for honor and legacy. He loved his mother, more than anyone, but he could not stay in Kattegat forever. His fate was out there waiting, and he needed only to extend his hand to take it.

A sudden movement in the water broke his focus and he looked out over the dock to the rippling surface. His eyes adjusted, and he thought his mind had gone when he recognized the whites of a pair of eyes staring back at him. There was a person in the water, bobbing just to their nose above the surface. At first, Ivar reached forward with his hand. They must have been frozen to the bone in the frigid sea. Kattegat's waters never warmed, even in summer.

When he looked at his hand cast forward, he felt foolish. With his useless legs, he couldn't swim. His upper body strength might support him a moment or two, but then sink and be wrapped under in the weeds before he could take a breath. He withdrew his hand only to find the eyes were no longer where they should have been.

Ivar scooted closer to the edge of the dock, searching the black water for the face he thought he saw. He rubbed at his eyes. Perhaps he hadn't slept well enough, or maybe he had ingested something spoiled during the last meal. He chose to believe his senses were sharp. They had kept him alive this long, and while trying to match his brothers no less. His eyes did another sweep of the shore before he called out, "I know you're there. You should know you cannot hide from a son of Ragnar."

His legs that dangled over the pier were parted, and a figure came straight out from the water to rest its arms on his thighs. Ivar flushed when he saw the figure was womanly. A beautiful and terrifying face, with large silver eyes, peered up at him. He had mistaken you for a woman, but you were something more. The hair that tangled down to your waist dipped into the water, and below was not a pair of legs kicking. Black scales with a pearlescent shimmer. You were one of Rán's creatures, or perhaps a daughter to the goddess herself.

"Ragnarsson," You spoke, and he was struck dumb by your voice. "Few may hear the siren's song calling."

Ivar's eyes shot to your hand as it trailed up his leg. Your nails were long, and there was a transparent webbing between your fingers. What surprised him even more than your strange claws was how gentle your touch was. It was a caress barely felt through his trousers.

"Who are you?"

You smiled. "I am (Y/N)."

"I am Ivar."

"I know you," You replied, and your sweeping hand switched to cupping his cheek. "You have your father's eyes and spirit."

"You know Ragnar Lothbrok?" Ivar asked while leaning into your touch. Your hand was warm despite the brisk waters you waded in.

"I know many faces of your home. I like to watch and learn from your people. Your father was a gazer too, but his eyes were to the horizon. You search the stars and night sky."

When you began to pull away, Ivar grabbed your hand and brought it back to his face. "Do you know my brothers?"

"I have seen them, but my song does not reach their ears. You are unique."

Ivar simpered. He could hear what his brothers could not. While they were off in barns and clearings, playing under the skirts of thralls, he was alone in the quiet of the night with a goddess. The sea had chosen him, though youngest and deformed.

"Why have you sought me out?" He asked, desperate to have his hopes confirmed.

"I wish to talk with you, and learn more of your kind. But we must always meet under darkness, for many of your people would rather hurt me than trust me."

Ivar knew why. Fishermen told tales of beautiful women taking sailors to the water, down to the sea bed of Rán's hall, never again to surface. He did not think you had the malice to do such a thing to him.

"How do I know you'll return? Is this even real?"

He couldn't help the creeping doubt from springing forth, and you flashed him a look of pity before plucking the knife from his belt. That got his attention, and he lurched forward to reach for the thing, but you held no ill intent. Instead, you pulled your hair over your shoulder and cut free a length to give to him. It was softer than any wolf pelt, and he clutched it tight to his chest.

"Giving a lock of hair to another can be one's undoing, so believe that I will return or curse me should I ever be treacherous," You said, and you slid his knife back into place before dragging your hand down his thigh. His cock gave a twitch, and your grin told him you knew. "Farewell Ivar."

You slipped back into the water like a needle through silk, and he was only able to catch a glimpse of your tail before you disappeared into the deep.

ooOOoo

Ivar went back to the dilapidated dock every night, and true to your word you would be there waiting in the water. You only approached once he took his place at the end of the pier, and Ivar would keep his legs apart so you would come rest between them. As you spoke of things unimportant, he would weave his hand with yours, playing with your fingers and the thin membrane of webbing. You would return the affections with little pets of your own, and you always left a kiss to the corner of his mouth before parting.

The lock of hair you had given to him was always with him. He had braided it together into a bracelet that he wore everywhere on his wrist. If his brothers thought anything about it, they never voiced such concerns. Ivar presumed they figured he had found his own thrall to be with, and as distracted as they were with Margrethe, they didn't dig further into his affair. His mother had noticed the thing as well, and always she would give it a long stare. Ivar always anticipated her to ask, but she avoided mentioning it as if it were a matter too delicate to speak of.

Ivar wished he could bring you to meet his family if only to brag to his brothers that you had chosen him. But he knew that could never happen. They would fear that you were a deceiver after his life, and his mother would have you killed to keep him safe. She probably would never let him near water again.

"Ivar," You called, clasping both hands on either side of his face. "Your mind is elsewhere tonight."

"Sorry," He said, looking away momentarily. "I just was thinking what it would be like to live our lives together."

"Come with me to the water," You suggested, and you gave a small tug on his arm that scooted him closer to the edge. He almost let you drag him in before he grew hesitant and pushed back.

"I can't swim like this," He said, scowling at you and then his legs.

"I will keep you safe." Ivar searched your face for any deception, but he only saw your smile. "You don't trust me?"

"I do," He said quickly. "But I…"

You heaved yourself upwards on the dock until it was just the tip of your tail whipping strokes in the water. Ivar caught your bare torso against his chest, and he flushed as your breasts pressed up against him. You were practically sharing the same air, noses brushing together as you steadied yourself in his arms. Your eyes met and you breathed a laugh that eased his previous concerns.

"We won't go far. I just want to show you that your legs aren't the burden you think they are."

You weren't pleading, and Ivar was intrigued by your suggestion. He gave you a short nod, and that was all it took for you to wrap your arms around him and haul him down into the depths. Your strength was surprising, but the admiration was banished from his mind the moment the cold water soaked straight through to his blood. He thrashed his arms, grabbing for purchase at imaginary aids that weren't there. When he tried to let out a shout, he swallowed saltwater. The sea was going to take him, just as his mother feared.

No. You were there, and you had never left. Like a spark to wood, Ivar was enveloped in a new warmth, and he floated to the surface with your arms around him. He took his first breath of air, but his throat was raw and he sputtered and choked. Your lips closed over his while he continued to cough, and it was as if you pulled all of the water out from his lungs. He didn't know if it was a real kiss, but he wore a shy grin as you pulled away.

"Breathe," You instructed. "Breathe, and look up at the stars you love."

Ivar first looked back at the shore and realized you had kept your promise. You had only taken him out far enough so his feet wouldn't brush the sandy floor. He then craned his neck up to the sky and found the familiar sight of his stars. They were the same out in the water as they were on land, a comforting thought for when he would one day sail away from home. The sky would always be there.

"Lie back and let the water hold you," You whispered in his ear from behind.

Ivar didn't know when you had maneuvered around to his back, but he continued to put his faith in you as you guided him down gently into the water. He was lying face up with his body floating across the surface weightless and free. You joined beside him, and together you shared in the silent night, bathed in the moonlight with the motion of the sea carrying your bodies. Ivar forgot for a moment about his broken legs. Drifting there beside you, he felt whole.

"You didn't answer me before," He spoke up, and you watched him with curiosity. "About us living our lives together. Is it possible?"

"There are those of my people who have given up the sea's blessing to live on land. Some may even live among your kind, though I doubt you would recognize them."

"How did they do it?" Ivar was sure even the dumbest farmer in Kattegat would have noticed a child of Rán flopping about.

"When my people choose to live a life as a land dweller, they simply have to go ashore. The blessing of the sea will fade, and in place will be a soft and weak human body, " You explained, and you turned your eyes away from him. "But the sea is vengeful and she hates those who leave her waters. Once the blessing fades, we can never return to her currents, or else we would be reduced to nothing more than foam that settles into tide pools."

If you were to be together you would have to give up everything you knew to be with him. Ivar wanted to ask this of you, but he was afraid of your answer. Being a prince as well as his mother's favored son meant he never had to work for anything. What he wanted he got, and always in plenty. If you refused him, he feared the rejection and what his reaction could be. He wasn't beyond forcing you out from the water onto dry land if it meant keeping you for himself. Better to not ask now. It was too early to demand so much from you.

He heard you shift in the water, and you were at his side again while supporting his back with your strong hands. "You don't want to ask me?"

Ivar shook his head. "Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow."

"I know you will soon, Ivar. It's in your eyes, they darken with hunger."

"What would you say if I did?"

He let out a shiver as you righted him back into your arms, holding him in your embrace that let him know you were in control. "I would say that you could also give up your life to be with me. Right now, I could take you down there, and you would never again have to worry about dragging yourself upon the land."

The idea of never having to crawl again was tantalizing, something he had always wished for, and yet...even if he was with you, he knew he wouldn't forget all that he would leave behind. He wanted to show his people he could lead and conquer better than any man, even without working legs.

"I couldn't," He murmured.

"Then it is good I did not ask, and nor will you ask it of me. We will take comfort in the joy we have now, and forget everything else."

You met his eyes with your own. Silver, just like the treasures that were brought back over from raids. Ivar refused to fluster under your gaze, even though your peering felt like a piercing dagger. He wanted to appear self-assured, and not as some young lad who needed you to hold him. He pulled you close and planted a clumsy but heartfelt kiss. Your lips were cold but your mouth was warm, and he tried to keep up with your feverish pace as you devoured everything from the kiss.

When you clapped your hands on his cheeks, Ivar could feel himself trembling, and he knew it wasn't because of the kiss. Your mouth left him, and he tried to find your lips again. You placed a finger to his mouth to stop him and gave him a shake of your head. "You are like ice. I've kept you here too long."

"Not long enough," He retorted before sneaking another kiss on you.

You laughed while gently prying him back. "You have your father's confidence."

"Good, maybe you can find out what else of his I have." He gave you his best wolfish grin.

"We'll have our time," You promised, and you secured an arm around him before starting to swim back to shore.

The water seemed to grow colder as you glided through it and by the time you made it back to the pier, Ivar couldn't control his shivering. You urged him up onto the dock, and your concern had made you grow quiet. Ivar didn't mind that you fretted over his well-being, but he missed your smile.

"How will you make it back home?" You asked while looking over him to where the edge of the town was barely visible through the treeline. It was a long way off.

"I've travelled further," Ivar excused, though he had his trepidations. His damp clothes were sticking to him, and his hair felt like grass after the thawing in spring. The cold made his muscles tighten, and he wasn't looking forward to pawing at the ground with stiff hands.

"Go now, while you have the moon's light to guide you."

"When can I see you again?" It was becoming more difficult each time he had to leave you, and his thoughts revolved around when you could be together.

"I'll come back until I feel you no longer wish to see me." You reached your hand out to him, and Ivar took it, bringing it to his chest.

"That will never happen."

What he was saying must have been madness. Maybe you were Rán's daughter, and you had him under a spell. If you did, he didn't care. He would gladly stay under your enchantment. It was a warmth all his own, and a happiness he didn't have to share or contend with his brothers over.

"Goodnight my love." You placed your lips once more on his hand before returning to the sea.

Ivar did not watch after you as he usually would. It was a luxury he couldn't afford. The desperation to get inside by a fire drove him to turn towards home, and he struggled through the terrain as fast as his dragging would get him. He only passed by drunks and stragglers that did not give him a second glance upon realizing who he was. Ragnar's youngest son, the cripple. No one important.  

He huffed his way up the stairs of the Great Hall, nudging on the doors with his shoulder until they parted. A low fire was burning in the pit, and his mother was asleep on her throne. She was still all done up from the last meal, and he realized she must have waited up for his return. His guilt propelled him forward, and he went towards her instead of his room. Careful not to wake her, he collapsed on the furs at her feet where sleep found him quickly.

Ivar didn't know how long he had been asleep, but he was startled awake by screaming. It took him a moment to realize it was his voice shouting, and he had jack-knifed into a seated position, clutching at his lower right leg. He knew he had broken a bone, and his mother, who was alert at his side, knew it as well. She called for two able-bodied guards to take him back to his room, out of sight of the thralls who had now gathered. None of his brothers were about, and he was relieved to be spared the humiliation. The weakness of his body during moments like this was only for his mother and the healers.

He was placed down onto the fur-covered palette in his room with one of the guards already off to fetch a healer. His mother was already trying to soothe his agony with her words, and as she brushed the hair on his forward she grew a frown.

"You're burning up," She said, feeling his forehead and then his chest. And your clothes are damp."

He swatted softly at her hand, frustrated with her observations but with never enough ire to cause her any harm. "Go away."

"Ivar, where do you go? All of these nights you leave my sight and no one knows anything about it." She plucked at the bracelet of your hair on his wrist before he jerked it out of her reach. "Who is this woman you see?"

"Get out, please," He begged. Tears stung at the corners of his eyes, and he didn't know if it was from the fever or the pain in his legs.

He was spared any further argument from her when the healer entered with three other thralls to assist. With soft voices, they were able to make her leave, at least until they finished addressing his fracture. Ivar would have felt awful at banishing his mother from his side if he could summon any other thought that wasn't about the hurt he was feeling.

The trek back through Kattegat had proved to be too much, but he didn't regret the night spent with you. In the water under the stars, and in your arms sharing kisses was where he wanted to be. He kept those thoughts in mind as the healer got to work on setting his leg in place, slathering it in a warming salve before wrapping it tightly in bandages.

"My Prince, you will need to stay in bed for the next few days to give the bone time to mend."

He gazed up at the rafters of the ceiling with contempt. How was he supposed to stay put knowing you were out there waiting for him? He couldn’t let the time pass and risk losing you, but he would need help.

"Go and bring me Ubbe," He instructed one of the thralls who shuffled out of the room at his request.

The healer continued to try and force some foul brew down his throat that he cursed her for at every turn of his head. Ivar knew he was notorious for being difficult to treat, but this healer had stuck through the bad times at his side. He admired her tenacity. If the situation was reversed, he would have given up on himself a long time ago.

After he had taken a large enough dose of the revolting stuff, he was left alone. The medicine made his head foggy, and he drifted in and out of consciousness while waiting for Ubbe to arrive. His eldest brother was best suited for the task in mind because he was soft when it came to Ivar's condition. Hvitserk didn't care about his legs either way, and Sigurd made a point to disparage him at every turn so he was definitely out of the running. Ivar guessed they had to all be out to the hunter's cabin. Following the commotion he had caused in the morning, one of them would have heard about it by now if they had been in town. It was nothing new really. He was used to being left behind.

Just as he was about to slip into another fitful bout of sleep, his door was forced open and in came his brother. He looked out of breath from running at least half of the distance back. Poor, gullible Ubbe.

"What happened?"

"The usual," Ivar started to explain as he forced himself to sit up. "Another broken bone."

"Mother says you also have a fever," Ubbe retorted as he took a seat at the end of the palette.

Ivar groaned. He hadn't estimated that his mother would be playing watchdog. "She got to you already?"

"She's worried about you."

"What else is new? She always worries about me," He grunted out as his leg twitched in pain.

"It's not just her this time. We all are concerned. You disappear at late hours and you're always tired. Even Hvitserk has noticed, and haven't you realized that Sigurd no longer says anything to you? For him, that's practically a defeat."

Come to think of it, Ivar couldn't recall the last verbal sparring match he'd shared with his third brother. Had his time with you sapped him of his usual energy?

"I need your help with something."

"Alright," Ubbe agreed with a nod of his head. "What is it?"

"When night falls, I need you to go down to the water. There's an abandoned dock if you follow the shoreline westward. Wait there and call for (Y/N), and tell her what has happened to me."

"Is she the woman who gave you that?" Ubbe asked while indicating to the bracelet on his wrist."

Ivar nodded as he began to twirl the thing around. It meant more to him than an arm ring. It was proof you had chosen him. "She's a daughter of Rán."

"What do you mean?"

"You'll see for yourself when you meet her." He smiled something Ubbe couldn't understand.

"Feel better, brother," Ubbe said softly as he made his exit from the room.

Ivar could feel the headiness of the brew still working, as he was pulled into visions of you. Together you danced under the moonlight. He could recall the feeling of working legs even though he'd never had a pair before. You glided with him in his arms, but Ivar could not see if it was feet you stood upon or you had somehow managed to balance on the tip of your tail. The strangeness made him privy to the knowledge it was just a dream, but he allowed himself to be carried away in fantasy regardless.

Sometimes his mother would pop inside to have a check on him. Her long hands caressing his forehead and pushing back his hair made him feel like a boy again. The worry on her face had settled now that he was no longer writhing in pain. They only shared in a handful of words while the healer continued to tend to him. It was their special connection, a bond she did not have with his brothers.

When night came and darkness fell, Ivar sat himself up against the wall and waited for Ubbe to return with word of you. It was the first time in a long line of sneaking away that he didn't escape to go find you. A strange emptiness filled him at the thought, and he rubbed at his eyes to combat the sleep that threatened to take him. He couldn’t miss the update about you because he had fallen asleep.

A thin stream of silver light poked through a cut out in the roof of his room, and he imagined you in the water beneath the stars. He wondered what your reaction would be to learning of his injury. Concern he hoped, and not pity or regret for the night they had shared.

As Ivar's thoughts began to spiral out, he was relieved from further gloom when the door opened. Ubbe had returned, and he had on a perplexed frown that furrowed his brow.

"Well, did you speak with her?" Were the first words out of Ivar's mouth.

Ubbe shut the door behind him before coming further into the room. "I called for (Y/N) and waited on that pier, but no one ever came, Ivar."

He took a moment to juggle that information in his head while Ubbe looked on with worry. You never showed. Had something happened to you? Perhaps you were riddled with guilt about taking him in the water or you had seen Ubbe from a distance but did not approach. That had to be it. His brother was a stranger who did not hear your song as he had.

"I have to go there."

Ivar threw the furs off and started to twist to the side. His broken leg protested the rapid movement, and he grunted through his struggle. Ubbe was already at his side pushing him back. He latched onto his brother's arm and tried to shove him off, but even his upper strength had waned and he ended up flopping back down like a lifeless fish.

"You can't leave this room like that," Ubbe scolded. He took a seat down beside him, preventing him from trying something foolish again. "You'll end up losing that leg entirely."

"What's that matter? I'd be no worse off than I am right down."

Ubbe sighed. "I understand you care about this (Y/N), but I don't believe she would want to see you harm yourself this way."

Ivar knew you wouldn't. That's why he had to see you again and be surrounded by your love. "You could take me there."

"We'd never make it past the throne. Mother has seen fit to have eyes on who comes and leaves your room. I think she is looking for the woman to blame."

"(Y/N) won't come here," Ivar said and he could see the confusion on Ubbe's face, but he didn't elaborate. "I've probably lost her forever now."

"If she truly cares for you, she'll still be there," Ubbe argued, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. "When you are well enough, I promise I'll help you back to the dock."

Ivar knew from past experiences that it would take many moons before he'd be fully healed. His eyes closed as angry tears threatened to fall. Why had the gods cursed him with these horrible limbs? The faults of his parents should not have fallen onto him. It was a cruel fate.

When he didn't continue to speak, Ubbe must have assumed he had fallen back asleep. He crept back to the door and exited the room as softly as a mouse scuttles through the kitchen.

Once he was alone, Ivar opened his eyes and took off the bracelet from around his wrist. He held it close to his lips, feeling the silk strands as he kissed the braided band. Maybe you could sense him reaching out. He decided to keep it enclosed in his hand and across his heart. If you were calling out, he would feel you in his sleep.

ooOOoo

In the many days that went by, Ivar became more frustrated with his leg. His broken bone was mending, but not fast enough that he was allowed out of the great hall. The slow progress had him taking out his anger on everyone, and they must have felt as trapped in with him as he was feeling about being locked up.

After a brief appearance to sit down to a meal with their mother, he had not seen his brothers again. This time he could admit he was to blame, and that they made the smart decision to cut and run back to the cabin. He had made the meal as uncomfortable as he could manage out of some need for vengeance. While they were free to run about Kattegat with their thralls, he was stuck in bed with wrinkled healers painting noxious salves on his body. He couldn’t be with you, so he chose to be spiteful.

Even his mother began to show signs of being fed up with him. Her smiles were now close-lipped, and she would linger by the door when she visited to make a hasty exit. He had yelled at her only once, and it had to do with her wanting to leave him just like everyone else. Ivar knew that wasn't true, and the moment she let out an anguished sob he had apologized.

Rather than continue to hurt those around him, he knew what he had to do. His leg was well enough that he could crawl again, and if he secured it tightly in his leather bindings it should protect the bone from any trauma as he moved. He had to get down to the pier himself and find you again. The call from the sea had him more desperate for water than a man dying of thirst. No thrall or guard would dare refuse him, and even his mother would not be able to stop him from going. He was doing this for her as well, even if she wouldn't see it that way. After causing her tears, he wouldn't be the reason for any more of her sorrow.

He needed the light to travel, so he began the trek from his room when the sun had only just begun to kiss the horizon. Much of the activity in the great hall had died down once the last meal had been served, and many of the thralls had already gone off to the barn. His mother was not on her throne. Ivar smirked at his good fortune and made for the doors as fast as he was able. Once he had them nudged shut behind him, he began his descent down the stairs. It was the most difficult part of the journey, guiding his body down feet first so his leg wouldn't bounce on every step down.

By the time he had cleared the treeline, the sun had set further and shadows were popping up in every corner. Ivar was more winded than he would normally be due to being bedridden, and he was mindful that he would have to work on building back the strength he had lost. But none of that mattered now. The dock was in sight. He had made it. He went together well with the solitude of the place, and when he sat perched on the end the creaking boards welcomed him home.

"(Y/N)," Ivar called out while searching for any ripple in the water. The surface remained still as glass, and he frowned while giving your name another shout.

Perhaps it was still too young in the day. He waited for the complete pitch of night to hit while letting his mind run wild with all the things he wanted to tell you about. It would be like a reunion of two lovers, and he couldn't fathom how one could be separated from their woman while gone on raids. Of course, his mother and father detested one another's presence, so it must have come as a balm to be away from one another.

The clouds parted from the moon, and one by one the stars surfaced in the sky. He called for you again, then held his breath to listen for any break in the water. Instead, he heard the crunch of footsteps behind him, and over his shoulder, he saw Ubbe approaching.

"I figured you would try coming back soon," Ubbe said once he stood at his side. "How's the leg?"

"Stiff," He replied tersely. "What do you want?"

Ubbe took an uninvited seat beside him which caused Ivar to shift over. There wasn't nearly enough room at the edge of the dock for both of them, and the wood groaned with the added weight.

"I never told you, but I've been coming back here every night after you sent me to search for (Y/N)."

Ivar frowned. "Why?"

"Because I saw how important it was to you to get that message to her, and I wanted to help. I might not be able to take away your pain, but I will still be your legs where I can."

Ivar looked at his lap as the heat built up in his face. He never knew how to take to his eldest brother's kindness. None of the rest of them had it, but from Bjorn's mouth, it was said that he inherited it from Ragnar.

"She never came back, did she?"

Ubbe shook his head. "She must only come for you."

"I don't think so," Ivar said as he looked out at the water. "It's been too long, and I've missed my chance. I don't think she'll come back."

"If she cares for you as you do her, I'm certain she'll be back."

Ubbe's words floated off him as he gazed down at the black water. He was struck with an irrational idea to force your hand if you were near. Before his brother could react, Ivar threw himself off the dock and into the water. It wasn't deep this close to shore, but it was enough that he began to sink. Ubbe was quick to follow, and Ivar tried in vain to bat away his saving hands. He was so desperate to have you come back that he would risk drowning. What a fool.

"Idiot," Ubbe cursed as he dragged them both up onto the sand. "What were you trying to do?"

Ivar turned his head away as he coughed up water. He felt embarrassed by what he'd just done and angry that it didn't earn him anything more than soaked clothes. "You wouldn't understand."

"I don't understand, and you won't help me to," Ubbe said, and his tone lightened from annoyance to mild irritation. "I need my little brother back. The one who's smarter than me at every turn, and doesn't make me fish him out of the sea."

Ivar started to laugh. It began in a quiet snicker and grew deep from his belly until Ubbe joined him. Neither of them knew what the humor was in the situation, but Ivar felt it was better to give in to the urge. He wanted to forget you weren't there, and giggling like a child with his brother in the sand was a good way to accomplish that.

"Should we head back?"

Ivar gave his leg a tug with his hand. "The bandage has soaked through and is starting to fall off. Guess I'd better have it looked at."

Ubbe crouched down beside him and indicated for him to climb up on his back. "C'mon, it'll be faster."

For once Ivar didn't argue. He couldn’t benefit from another disagreement, and he didn't want to be in wet clothes longer than he had to. Ubbe or Floki were the two he trusted most to support him. Hvitserk had dropped him one time, and he refused to let that happen twice. Sigurd never offered.

Once he was secured up to Ubbe's height, they started back home. He chanced one last look over his shoulder for as long as the water was in sight, clinging to the idea that you would spring up from the depths. The only movement out there came from the wind and the tide.

Neither brother spoke another word, but Ivar suspected Ubbe knew he had taken that last glance. How could he not? He wasn't ready to give up on you or accept the idea that you had abandoned him. Thoughts of you being in harm came to him, and he to banish those away because of the helpless feeling they gave him. You were a daughter of Rán, and the sea couldn't hurt you. Repeating it enough times had to make it true. As they journeyed through the night back to Kattegat, Ivar clung to the hope of seeing you again, and his thoughts warmed him up and dulled the pain until he found rest.

ooOOoo

Time passed by for Ivar and the pain in his legs dulled back into its usual ache. With his bone mended he could return to training with his brothers, and hunting up by the cabin. While his physical injury may have healed, it was not so for the throbbing in his heart. He had gone for sparse visits to the abandoned dock again, with each ending in the same sorrow until he had decided to give up going back. What's more, your bracelet that he had never let out of reach had vanished one day. Perhaps you had never been real, and he had dreamed you up.

What more could the gods take from him? First, it was his legs, then his father, and recently he was drifting from his brothers due to their infatuation with Margrethe. It was his mother he looked to as his constant, but she had grown distracted by visions. It was now common practice for her to disappear to her room after the last meal, when not so long ago she would be the last to leave with a chalice of wine. All of this left Ivar alone, and his thoughts had become unbearable. He needed something to dull the noise, a distraction.

More than anything Ivar longed to keep up with his brothers, and that's when he decided he wanted to fuck a woman. He approached Ubbe with the request to convince Margrethe. She had a pleasant face, and she didn't resemble you. If she had taken three of the other sons of Ragnar, he should be no different. Ubbe appeared torn when he first asked but did agree, and Margrethe was hardly in a position to refuse.

Now that the moment was approaching, and he was being brought over to the cabin by boat, he wondered if he would be the one to refuse. From what he'd always seen, men loved to hump a beautiful woman. It's what led to his parents' affair and marriage. So what was wrong with him that as he grew closer to the destination he felt ill? Ubbe certainly wasn't sharing the sentiment. He wore a dumb grin and was humming an old song to himself.

"You're happy I'm about to lay with your woman?" Ivar asked.

Ubbe laughed. "Margrethe isn't my woman, she's still a thrall. But I am happy because this is a good day for you, brother."

The day is still young, Ivar thought with a bitterness that was ingrained in his bones. Was sex such a powerful thing that it would shift who he became? Other than to have children, Ivar never dwelled on the matter. He'd never had a lover, and the closest he had come to obtain such a relationship was with you.

The boated jilted back and forth as it hit shallow water. Ubbe tied off by a tree before coming to fetch him. He was to be carried by his brother to his first tryst with a woman. Not nearly as humiliating as crawling he supposed, but the difference was negligible.

As they passed through the threshold of the abandoned cabin, Ivar stole a look around the place. It smelt like fire and driftwood, and there was a bed that had been piled thick with furs. The flame burning in the hearth let him know that Margrethe was already there.

Ubbe deposited him down on the bed and turned to get a look at him. "I'll leave now so you can be ready for her. Relax and enjoy yourself."

Ivar swallowed. That was easy for any of his brothers, they all had working parts. A handful of times he had felt his prick twitch and stiffen, but it was never a long event and he had never dared to try to take himself in hand. It was silly, but he was afraid of his cock.

He began to disrobe with haste, not wanting Margrethe to walk in on him without his trousers and his legs exposed. Once he was free of his garments he threw the heavy furs over himself and clutched them at his waist. All he could hear was his heart pounding, and he kept his chin tucked into his chest, straining to listen for the woman in the cabin.

She came to him from behind in light, cautious steps. Perhaps she was nervous, or his trepidations had seeped into the air and spoiled the mood. Ivar resisted the urge to peek until she stood at the side of the bed. When he glanced up he saw that she wore a fisherman's net as a veil. Her features were distorted, but he could make out the subtle difference that alluded to her being anyone other than Margrethe.

"(Y/N)?" He whispered and hoped.

You lifted back the thin mesh from your face, and you put on a dazzling smile. Ivar had never seen a better sight, not the first sacrifice of spring or the storms of Thor could hold a candle up to you. You donned a crisp white gown that was cinched at the waist with a strap of brown leather, and your hair was a wild tangle of waves. He had never seen you without your sodden tresses.

You took your first step to come closer, but you lost your balance and fell onto the bed in his awaiting arms. This was where you belonged.

"Shit," You cursed, pulling back enough to look him in the eye. "I was supposed to be beautiful and graceful, but these legs are too light. If I run fast enough, I'm sure I could soar like a bird."

"You have legs?" Ivar exclaimed while pulling you onto the bed beside him with all of the strength he could summon. "Let me see."

You swung your legs across his lap, careful not to rest any weight on his thighs. He hitched the skirt of your dress up to your thighs, exposing the new flesh. His hands didn't know where to touch first. This must be the work of the gods. In place of your magnificent tail were two gorgeous limbs that he was happy to smooth his hands over. You wiggled your toes, content to observe Ivar as he studied you.

"How is this possible?"

"I told you my people can choose to abandon the sea. Now I'm a soft creature like you," You said while giving his arm a playful squeeze.

He caught your hands before you could pull away and placed a kiss on each of them. They no longer had the webbing or claws, but there was a strength to them that he could feel under your touch. "Where did you go? I tried so many times to find you, and I even sent my brother."

"You had your life up here, and I had mine below," You said as your eyes grew vacant. "When I did return to the surface, I could no longer find you. All of these things left unsaid caused us to miss each other."

"Then why are you here now, like this?"

You reached for his wrist, finding it bare. Ivar knew what you searched for. "You no longer have my precious gift. Did you think I turned treacherous?"

"I misplaced it. I would never have thrown it away, even if I thought you'd left me."

"I know," You said as you ran a hand down his bare chest and over his heart. "You were in more pain than I understood that night. The blue in your eyes."

Ivar tensed. "How did you learn about that?"

"Your mother told me."

"My mother…" Ivar knew his mouth was hanging open in question, and he snapped it shut to regain composure.

"She found your bracelet. It was her voice I could hear beckoning me to the land. She must be a powerful woman to do such a thing."

You didn't have any animosity in your voice, but Ivar couldn't help but feel angry for you. His mother had taken your life from the sea by force. He had considered the heinous deed himself for a time, but he would have never risked your resentment. What if that came to pass now that the unthinkable had happened?

Ivar couldn't keep himself from looking at you now. He wouldn't let you go a second time. "She said the sea will take me. Perhaps you are meant to stop that from happening."

"Or maybe I am the sea," You said, shifting your hips as you hovered over his lap. With a firm shove you had him down flat on the furs, and he nearly lost his air as your thighs squeezed at his waist. "Come to take you myself because I couldn't stand the thought of that Margrethe touching you."

And then Ivar realized...Ubbe had known he was taking him to you. You had been on land long enough to learn to walk and find out about his pathetic setup with the thrall. His face flushed and he turned his head to the side before feeling your fingers grasp his chin. You tilted his face back around, and he saw only tenderness.

"I know the weariness from being alone. My heart has been there as well."

"You'll stay?" Ivar knew he sounded a touch petulant, but he did not want to suffer another morning with you vanishing.

"Until the gods bring you home and the sea turns me to froth, I will remain by your side, Ivar Ragnarsson."

He didn't know who's lips touched first, but when your mouths connected, it was like being awash on the deck of a ship. You were a cool drink of water with the tang of salt, and Ivar threaded his hands through your hair. The more his hold tightened, the more it pulled him in like reeds in a marsh.

You withdrew slowly, and you held his gaze, even when he wanted to look away from the thrill of what you'd just done. With careful hands, you shed the veil from your head, and then the dress, all collecting into one pile on the floor with his garments. You were naked before him. All of your scales were gone in place of smooth flesh and pleasing curves. Ivar knew he was gaping at your breasts, how they rose and fell with each rapid breath you took. As you gave a coy grin, you peeled back one corner of the furs and slithered your way in beside him. You pressed up against his side, and his body went taut as you tangled your legs with his.

"Is this alright?" You asked while your toes brushed up and down his shin.

"Yes," He said as a puff of air escaped him.

It was stifling hot under the covers, and your hand seemed to sear his flesh as you dragged it up to his thigh. Your fingers just teased next to cock before brushing up his abdomen. Ivar shifted, his hand reaching yours to halt your motions.

Your eyes flashed to his, and you smiled with patience. "Tell me what you want."

"I…" He paused, unable to form the words, and he could feel himself losing his nerve. With a tighter grasp, he took control of your hand and brought it back down to his half-hard prick. "I just want you."

"You have me," You murmured back as your hand began to fondle his shaft. He continued to grow in your hand, and Ivar let his eyes roll back at the feeling of you working him. His cock had never been so stiff, and his free hand clutched at the furs as he tried to recognize everything he was feeling. Fluid was beginning to bead out at his tip, and he struggled to push you back.

"S-stop," He sputtered.

You pulled back with a shy expression, and you were breathing just as hard as he was. You enjoyed what you could do to him. "Are you alright?"

Ivar bobbed his head, not sure if he agreed or not with your question. "I was losing control too soon, and I haven't even touched you yet."

"Is that all?" You rolled yourself on top of him, pushing back the furs while the cold air of the room pebbled your nipples. Ivar looked up at you in awe. "Touch me then."

Your slick center was rubbing on the base of his shaft now pressed up against his stomach, and he could feel his hips give a few practiced ruts. He saw the flash of delight in your eyes, and you hummed out a moan that was as long as a horn that bellowed in war.

"I'm still adjusting to this new body," You panted. "I've never felt like this before."

Ivar felt a strong sense of pride for bringing you these new experiences along with him. Even though he lacked the skill, he had a newfound confidence that had him reaching for you. His hands felt rough and clumsy against your untouched skin, squeezing and pawing to see how much pressure to apply and where. Your breasts were soft and pliable while your backside was firm and rounded, and you leaned further into him as he grasped onto your cheeks. You placed a wet kiss in the hollow of his throat that had him moaning. He wondered if you could hear his heart racing.

"Please," He choked. "I need to feel you."

Your hand reached down between your bodies, and you pulled back to watch his face as you clutched his cock. Lining it up with your slippery center, you brought your cunt down to the hilt. Ivar was under no delusions that he would last long or immediately be worthy of infamy in bed like his brothers, but being surrounded by your wet heat, he thought he'd cum right then. As you sat up straight to readjust, he let out a gasp. You did too, only when his eyes cracked open to get a look at you, your eyes were shut and your face was screwed up in pain.

"What's wrong?"

"Is it supposed to hurt like this?" You whimpered, hands grabbing at his chest. It seemed everything about your human body was new.

"For human women, it does the first time." He wrapped his arms around you and spun you down onto the bed with himself still connected between your legs. It would be difficult for him to manage this way long, but it would be better for you this time. "I've got you."

Your eyes were blurry from unshed tears, but he could feel you relax in his arms as he began to set a slow pace. On the first withdrawal of his cock he could see a small amount of blood seep out which he regretted feeling thrilled about. You were his now, and he was yours.

The strength in your legs was unmatched, and as you grew more comfortable you squeezed at his waist with your knees. He knew his end was already in sight from the tightening in his balls and the burning in his gut. You had thrown your head back, hair tousled and mouth open to show your sharp teeth. It was the only telltale sign that you weren't a human, and he bought his lips down on yours to explore the fangs with his tongue. You teased back with little nips, and you gave a harsh tug on his hair that separated him from the sloppy kiss.

"Fuck," He breathed out, and his hips began to lose rhythm. "I can't go much longer."

You ran a hand meant to soothe down his back, but it only spurred him on. His hips snapped at a frenzied pace with his thighs smacking against yours. Nothing could stop him chasing the feeling of his release, and with a few more pumps he felt himself empty deep inside you with a profane groan. All of the strain he'd put on his arms to keep from balancing on his legs gave out, and he collapsed on top of you. Your hot skin stuck to his, and he could feel you twitch beneath him.

"Sorry," He whispered embarrassedly. He rolled off of you and his cock made a wet pop as it slipped out from your folds. "You didn't get to finish."

You rolled onto your side to look at him, still breathing fast and on the precipice of your release. "Forget that. This was about you getting to enjoy me tonight."

Ivar shook his head as he turned into you. "But I want you to enjoy me as well."

His hand dove for your core, chubby fingers fumbling around in your wet pussy that was now a mix of your blood and his cum. This was the first time he had felt a woman's warmth, and he watched your reaction as he felt around your lips and the tiny bud at the top. When he stroked over it with his thumb your legs jerked and you whined. He continued to swirl his digit around the nub while experimenting with varying degrees of pressure. You were now experiencing his love for you, and he could read what you enjoyed most with how expressive you were with your body. He settled into a comfortable pattern, and your hand shot down to join his when he hit a perfect cadence.

"Yes...there," You cried.

Ivar plunged his longest finger into your depths as you began to wither and shake. He could feel your pussy clamp down on him as you came, and he knew he wanted to feel that on his cock next time. Your eyes blinked rapidly as you started to calm, and he withdrew his hand, only to bring it to his mouth for a taste. You watched him in rapt attention.

"A warrior tastes the blood of his enemies in battle, so should he not also taste his lover's in bed?"

You brought your hands back together with his and pulled yourself against his chest. "If the gods willed it, then let it be so."

You laid in silence together, and Ivar felt your little puffs of air even out as you fell asleep. He pulled a fur over the both of you, the fire had long gone low and the night air colder. Indeed the gods must have willed it. Ivar now knew he was favored by the gods above all other sons of Ragnar. You were a daughter of Rán, and you had chosen him. His mother knew it as well, or else she wouldn't have summoned you back into his arms. In his heart, he had already forgiven her for taking the bracelet.

The sea had come to take him, and he had gone willingly into the mouth of the current. It was comfortable there, like a never-ending waterfall over rocks beating him down onto your altar. You opened it up and took him in, and now you were both drenched.

The cabin grew cold and black, and Ivar went to sleep beside you that night with the comfort that the stars still shined overhead, and that when dawn came he would not have to face another day without you.

Taglist

@pomegranates-and-blood

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@pieces-by-me

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@everyartistwas-firstanamateur

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@poisonous00

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@katfett

[princecharmingwinks]

Sterek Fic Rec - May 2021. New rec list for you. Hope you enjoy these delightful reads featuring our favourite werewolf and human dorks <3

May I Interest You in an Apology Muffin? by Leslie_Knope (1/1 | 1,478 | Teen)

“Wait, seriously? Who is it? C’mon, just tell me.”

“Uh…,” Stiles said, buying for time while he looked around as surreptitiously as possible. “That guy over there,” he whispered finally, jerking his chin toward the dark-haired guy three tables over, a guy so hot that Stiles’ only chance with him would most definitely be in an imaginary scenario.

Scott looked over his shoulder at the guy and got that determined glint in his eye that Stiles recognized, just about three seconds too late. Scott was gonna do something that he thought was heroic but was actually dumb.

“Scott!” he hissed, grabbing for his backpack and nearly knocking over their coffee cups in his haste to follow him. “Oh, holy shit.”

you all over me by Poe (1/1 | 3,705 | Explicit)

The thing about Stiles is, Derek thinks, is that he has no idea how enthralling he truly is. He’s easy to overlook, right up until the point he isn’t, and at some stage, Derek started looking, and now, it’s all he can do.

(or: the one where the pack is happy, healthy and alive, and Stiles and Derek are sort of inevitable)

a bad case of the wilds by kaistrex (weishen) (1/1 | 6,446 | Explicit)

“I could smell you all over town,” Derek growls.

Stiles squints back at him, trying to parse what Derek wants from him with that statement. An apology?

“Okay?” he says instead, which, as with everything else he says around Derek, seems to be the entirely wrong thing to come out of his mouth.

Derek’s eyes go red and Stiles bolts upright in his chair, trying to scoot backwards, banging into his desk.

“Dude, what the fuck?”

“Get away from me, Stiles,” Derek bites out, hands clenched into fists.

Stiles rolls his head on his shoulders. “Dude, this is my room. You get away from me.”

–

Basically, I wanted Derek fucking Stiles up against his bedroom window on a full moon with the blind up, so I wrote it. Happy Valentine's Day!

Cabins, Confessions, and Cockroaches by Nutellargh (1/1 | 4,009 | Teen)

That's how Stiles found himself in the middle of a forest, trying to grab the one bag of clothes and a bajilion bags of mystical powders, liquids, books and weapons, and instantly dropping them as he spotted the cabin dude.

Derek Hale chopping wood with an axe while shirtless was not a sight Stiles was prepared for.

the rescue by EvanesDust (1/1 | 860 | Teen)

Stiles has spent every moment of the last four months tracking the hunters who took his mate. Now that he’s found them, nothing will stop Stiles from taking back what’s his.

A Crooked Way to Fly by andavs (1/1 | 14,980 | General)

“We can’t just leave him here to die.”

“He’s an emissary, Scott.” Derek tried to make his tone empathetic, but Scott’s tendency to fight back on everything always grated on his nerves. “His pack is gone, he won’t survive more than a day or two either way.”

“Then we should stay with him.”

Derek sighed as he studied the man for a moment; he was too pale against the fur rim of his hood, almost grey from lying out in the snow, and his cloak was stained with dark dried blood around a protruding arrow shaft. It was unlikely he would even last the night. They would probably be able to carry on in the morning with little time lost, if any.

It wasn’t a horrible idea, Derek decided reluctantly. They hadn’t been able to set up a real camp for a few weeks in the open foothills, and they were all on edge from sleeping in exposed areas. A defensible place to sleep would be good for them, even if they were surrounded by death. They would be able to give the pack proper burials, at the very least.

“Fine. One night,” Derek relented, already moving away to check on Isaac. “He’s your responsibility.”

Big Bad Wolves by NotThatIWillEverWriteIt (1/1 | 1,144 | General)

"What's one more canine?"

But it's better when it's you by Tails89 (1/1 | 9,707 | Mature)

Shuffling slowly towards the front door, Stiles throws it open.

“What?”

Stiles’ brain short circuits - just a little - because standing in front of him is Derek Hale.

He hasn’t seen Derek in almost four years and now he’s standing on his doorstep, in shorts and a tank top with a canvas bag clutched in one hand.

Teen Wolf Fic Fest Prompt: Someone breaks a bone and someone unexpected winds up on their doorstep with a bag full of groceries

My Soul to Keep by jacyevans, Jmeelee (7/7 | 18,660 | Teen)

Stiles came with a whiteboard, and blue dry erase marker, flapping it over his head like a white flag on a battlefield.

"Come on," he coaxed. "You must want to say something. You've never gone this long without telling me to shut up." He waggled the marker in Derek's face. Stinging alcohol and pungent polymer singed Derek's nose hairs.

His fingers itched to pick up the board, and not because he wanted to tell Stiles to be quiet. He enjoyed the babble that filled the apartment every few days, the hearty food, Stiles' particular, reassuring smell: maple sugar buzz, spicy-sweet deodorant, milk-sour frustration, floral shampoo, and spring grass at night. It soaked into Derek's couch, his bed, his skull.

If any of it were real, Derek would take the board and write: thank you.

Lost Without You by ash_mcj (1/1 | 7,799 | General

Derek made a deal. A very stupid, no-good, mortifying deal because he couldn’t bear to tell his idiotic (secret) mate no. -- “You guys didn’t know that Derek plays piano?” Cora asked, her eyebrows furrowed. “He’s played since before I was born.” “He was good,” Peter recalled. “He used to sing, too. Put on little concerts for the pups.” “That was a long time ago,” Derek clipped. “Doesn’t matter now - I don’t play anymore.” "Derek," Stiles whined childishly. He scooted closer to him and grabbed onto his arm to gently shake him. “C'mon, Sourwolf, my life will never be complete until I hear you sing. I’ll do anything. I’ll streak across the lacrosse field during our final match, if you perform for us right now.” "When you graduate," Derek relented. --- And then Stiles graduated. And Derek had to perform for him. And then the fact that Derek saw Stiles as his mate wasn’t a secret anymore. ---

(For~ Sterek Valentine Week 2021; Day 3 and 4: Secret Crush and Love Song)

**Songfic to "Lost Without You" by Freya Ridings

princecharmingwinks special mention (i have never read a merman AU for sterek and this was a delighful introduction to the trope! Also it has meddling erica which we all know any mention of her is my weakness!)

Beacon Gills by kitsunequeen (1/1 | 4,226 | Teen)

“Derek,” Erica singsongs loudly. Rather than knocking on the rather flimsy-looking piece of driftwood, she grabs a coconut filled with seashells and shakes it violently. “We’ve got a surprise for you!”

“I hate surprises,” Derek answers, voice slightly muffled through the door. “Aren’t you supposed to be out exploring the caves with Isaac?”

“He has some special guests tonight,” Boyd says. “And so do you.”

Derek doesn’t answer right away, and Stiles can almost imagine him sighing.

“Come in,” he yields finally. “You know it’s unlocked.”

Erica flings the door open, nudges Stiles inside, and slams it behind him.

“Surprise!” she yells, and then Stiles can hear her and Boyd’s footsteps quickly retreating.

Oh, shit.

---

When Stiles accompanies Scott on a trip to his uncle's beach house, he gets more than he bargained for after running into a pack of mermaids with a particularly attractive leader...

And that’s it for the month folks! Thank you to the amazing fandom always giving me so much content to enjoy, sterek fandom is the best fandom ;) 

[writing-on-the-wahl]

Okay, this one’s been done already by other blogs and I understand that not every writer wants to do the same prompt as another so if you’re not comfortable with this then absolutely stay in your comfy zone. I just think it’s fun to see different interpretations

But basically, Civilian is unknowingly dating Villain (as in, Civilian doesn’t know that villain is a criminal), and Villain is introduced to Civilian’s brother, Hero. Hero is terrified that Villain is going to hurt Civilian the entire time, but Villain just keeps on showing lots of sweet affection to Civilian (Hero and Villain recognize each other but Civilian is clueless of both their “jobs”). It’s up to you whether or not Villain actually loves Civilian or is just taunting/threatening Hero :)

Wow that was long my bad

Sorry this took me like twelve years to get to... @glowing-alpaca it won’t let me tag you... idk why🤷🏽‍♀️

Ok yes I’ve seen a few of these, so I took the general principle and made it Civilian’s POV eehehehe

hope you enjoy:)

*special thanks to @im-a-wonderling and @watercolorfreckles for the beta reads and all your amazing help on this one!!*

———————————————

Civilian shifted from foot to foot, rubbing her left wrist as she tried to focus on the conversation swirling around her. Her limbs felt lead-heavy and numb, deadweights that she wasn’t sure what to do with.

She clasped her hands together in front of her, then let them hang by her sides. Then clasped them in front of her again.

Her breathing felt loud in her ears, and a few of the patrons glanced in her direction. Could they hear her breathing?

Her eyes darted to the entrance for the hundredth time. Her brother was late. Hero had promised to be here early—he knew how she felt about crowds. And since he was the one who insisted her first art show be public, he’d reassured her he’d stay by her side the whole time.

The show had started over an hour ago.

“Well, Civilian?”

Her eyes snapped away from the door and back to the circle of patrons around her. Her stomach sloshed cold. They were all looking at her, their stares burning holes.

“Sorry? What was that?” Her stomach continued to twist and writhe. Now they all knew she’d been distracted.

Did they think she was ignoring them? Had she been rude?

She’d only glanced at the door for a moment…

An older man shook his head as his companion repeated her question about her choice to use different mediums to portray the same image.

She answered the best she could, gesturing to the wall beside her, which was filled with a dozen paintings and drawings of the cityscape—some created with ink, other with oil, acrylic, watercolor, or charcoal—she’d used them all.

She rubbed her wrist again as she tried to explain how she’d used the different mediums.

A few in the circle nodded their heads, but her heart was pounding and doubt nagged at her as she spoke. Was she talking too much? Not enough? Was what she was saying stupid?

She stumbled over her words, unease crawling beneath her skin.

She looked down, unable to complete her thought.

“I think it’s a marvelous technique.”

Hero looked up sharply as the deep voice continued, covering the awkward pause she’d created.

“...to get to look at a wall full of paintings, all capturing the same image but each conveying a different mood or emotion.”

Her rescuer was sharply dressed: his dark hair carefully styled, his suit perfectly tailored, and his gold watch designer. Combined with his confident posture, his appearance practically screamed “lawyer,” same as her brother. But while Hero was a public defense attorney, crusading against a flawed system, the man in front of her was probably what Hero would call a ‘leech,’ a rich defense lawyer catering to the criminal elite.

And while Civilian sympathized with Hero’s cause, she also had enough experience as a starving artist to appreciate the luxury of not having to worry about how much money she had to spend at the grocery store.

Plus, he’d been so kind to save her; how bad could he be?

Her rescuer was still speaking, his smooth words and confident tone confirming his profession.

“... the kind of art that needs to be seen and studied to be appreciated.”

At his hint, the crowd began to drift towards the gallery walls.

Her rescuer met her gaze through the crowd, and she offered him a small smile of gratitude as the people around her shifted away.

She turned towards the wall of cityscape paintings, breathing a sigh of relief before stopping to analyze one of the city in the rain. She eyed the brushstrokes, mentally smoothing a line here, adding a shadow there. She shook her head and turned away. Now was not the time.

But her rather abrupt turn sent her careening into a wall-like something that wasn’t a wall, but a certain tall lawyer in a thousand-dollar Armani suit. She jerked back, horrified at her lack of grace, but tripped on her blasted heels. Hands at her waist stopped her fall, long fingers tightening around her as she regained her balance. When she was finally steady, his hands slid away.

“Thanks.” Civilian forced herself to look up into the face of the man who had now rescued her twice, rather than looking around like she wanted to to check who else had noticed her embarrassing almost-fall.

He was smiling warmly, and for the first time all night, her heart wasn’t pounding at the thought of speaking with a stranger.

“I’m sorry for running into you.” She felt breathless, but it must have been from her almost-fall.

He waved her off. “I shouldn’t have been standing so close. I just wanted to compliment the way you’ve captured my favorite view of the city.” He gestured to the painting she’d just been critiquing.

“I painted it at the top of the—“

“Capitol building, yes I go there often.”

“Because you work there often?” Civilian flushed as she spoke across him, but her heart steadied as he didn’t seem to mind. His smile widened, and he leaned closer.

“What gave me away?” His voice was deep, and he looked at her as though they were sharing a secret.

Her cheeks grew warmer, and she looked away, heart racing for an entirely different reason.

“My brother is a lawyer, so I usually can just tell. He was supposed to be here actually…” a frown came to her face as she remembered her brother’s promise.

She shook herself out of her reverie. Her rescuer was looking at her warmly.

“I’m sorry! You rescued me back there, and I don’t even know your name…” She looked at him expectantly, and he offered a bright smile that made her stomach flutter.

“I’m Villain. Pleased to meet you.” His voice was practically a purr, sending tingles across her skin as he took her hand, gently raising it to his lips. She looked down as her cheeks heated at the old fashioned gesture.

“I’m Civilian,” she said as he released her hand, returning his bright smile with a shy one of her own. “Although you probably already knew that since my name is on the program...”

He nodded. “I have to say, I’m quite impressed by your—”

“Civilian!”

A blur in a tan suit darted around Villain and grabbed her arm, pulling her back.

“Hero, what?—” Her brother was a mess. His suit was wrinkled, tie coming undone, hair mussed.

He continued to pull her back, eyes on Villain. “Civilian I need to talk to you—it’s urgent!”

She glanced back at Villain as Hero tugged her away.

“Sorry!” She mouthed.

He just shook his head, an amused smile on his face, before mouthing something that looked suspiciously like, “I’ll see you later.”

Her heart warmed, and she was still grinning when Hero pulled her around the corner and flipped her around to face him.

“What are you—”

“Do you have any idea who that is?” Hero’s fingers gripped her shoulders. “What he is?”

“He said his name was Villain? And so what that he’s a lawyer, Hero. I don’t get why you are freaking out!”

Hero’s hands shook her shoulders. “He’s not just a lawyer, he—”

Civilian wrenched free and shoved Hero’s chest. “He what? Actually helped me? When YOU failed to show up like you promised.” Her last words slid into a growl.

Hero had the decency to look ashamed for a brief moment before his face hardened. He lifted a hand, gesturing with one arm back towards where they’d left Villain. “His people are the reason that I’m late!”

Anger sparked in her chest, and she rolled her eyes. “Sure,” she scoffed, “blame some random lawyer for your broken promise. That’s a pitiful excuse, Hero, even for you.”

She shoved past him, heading back into the gallery.

“Wait, Sis!” He grabbed her arm. She shook him off and stalked away.

But when she returned to the main room, Villain was gone.

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Twenty-Four

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: a short update resolving where we left off last week, to be soon followed by another gwynriel bonus scene. after that i am never going off the tracks of my fic outline ever again.

***

Nesta is going to commit murder. She really is.

Gwyn is the first to hop out of bed, rapidly tugging her T-shirt down to cover her bare girl parts. “I can explain—” she starts.

“You.” Nesta points at Azriel, who’s still sitting shirtless and confused. “You. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Be more specific.” Azriel slides off the bed and picks up a pair of panties from the ground, trying to hand them to Gwyn. Gwyn smacks his hand away, but the sight enrages Nesta all the same.

She nods to herself, her thoughts whirling. “Actually, I’m really glad you’re here,” she says. “I was considering sparing you, but now my mind is made up.” She rushes at Azriel without warning.

“Whoa, whoa, wait!” Gwyn jumps in front of a wide-eyed Azriel, arms outstretched to fend Nesta off.

Nesta reaches past Gwyn’s shoulder and jumps, trying to grab Azriel, hit him, anything. “My sister and my best friend?” she seethes, batting at him. “My sister and my best friend?”

“The hell are you going on about?” Azriel snaps over Gwyn’s head.

“You really have no shame, do you?” Nesta succeeds in pushing Gwyn out of her way, and comes up chest to chest with Azriel, all fiery glares. “You think you can get away with whatever you want because you’re the cool uncaring one, and you probably can, but not with me. We’re the same person, jackass.”

Before Azriel can respond, slim arms grab Nesta around the waist and start dragging her backwards into the hallway. Gwyn lets go of Nesta and slams the door shut after them, leaving Azriel inside the room alone.

“This is way too much for me to be doing without underwear!” Gwyn yells at her. “Will you please explain yourself?”

“What do I have to explain? He should be explaining himself!” Nesta flings her arm toward the bedroom. It’s not like Azriel is any random hookup of Elain’s. He’s also Nesta’s friend, and Nesta expected better from him.

Gwyn drops her head and rubs her freckled temples in exhaustion. “It’s not like I wasn’t there, too. Are you even going to ask why we were together? Do you have any questions at all, or are you just going to break into my home and assume he took advantage of me?”

Nesta shuts her mouth. She didn’t ask any questions, did she? She hasn’t even considered Gwyn’s part in this.

She clears her throat, her voice strained from shouting. “I thought you were at work.”

“Clearly I’m not.” Gwyn crosses her arms, then immediately drops them to readjust her short T-shirt.

Nesta bites. “Why? How? Since when did you guys even talk to each other?” Even after catching Azriel flirting on their ski trip, Nesta couldn’t have predicted that he and Gwyn would end up here. It’s far too much of a leap.

“It’s really not what you think it is.” Gwyn twists a piece of ruddy hair between her fingers. “He’s just… helping me get back into the dating pool. We made an agreement, and he’s doing me a huge favor.”

Nesta’s jaw drops. “By eating you out?”

Gwyn’s teal eyes meet hers. “I can’t ever have a chance with Max if I freak out when he eventually tries to take my clothes off. Especially when I want him to take my clothes off. So I decided after the ski lodge that I needed to get comfortable with sex again, and I… recruited Az to help.” She shrugs like it’s nothing.

Nesta is left with more questions than before. “So,” she holds up a hand, “the thought of doing it with Azriel doesn’t scare you? Not even a little?”

Gwyn scoffs. “If I didn’t know him from elementary school, then it probably would. Unfortunately, I’ve firsthand seen the guy shove crayons up his nose.” She casts a glance toward the bedroom door and lowers her voice. “And I honestly don’t have any proof that he doesn’t still do it.”

That’s—unfortunately understandable. It also explains why Azriel has been comfortable with Gwyn from the start, though Nesta doesn’t know why Gwyn didn’t tell anyone about their shared history.

“Look, Nesta, I know he’s your roommate,” Gwyn continues, “but I think you overreacted a little back there.”

Right. Does Gwyn even know about Azriel and Elain? “It wasn’t because of you,” Nesta tries to explain. “It was because—”

Before she can finish, the door clicks open and Azriel comes out, thankfully clothed in his shirt and gym shorts. He slides his hands into his pockets and says, “I’m joining before any more unflattering things can be said about me.”

Nesta’s lip curls into a sneer at the sight of him. “I wouldn’t let you run away from me anyway.” She crosses her arms and faces him down. “You agreed to teach Gwyn how to get comfortable with sex?”

The hallway is crammed now with Azriel’s height taking up most of the space, but he doesn’t seem to care as he leans against the wall and answers, “Hell yeah.”

Nesta is more than suspicious and untrusting right now, but she pauses to wonder: does Azriel know why Gwyn has such trouble with intimacy in the first place?

It’s none of her business, she decides. Except now she’s even more wary. “What do you get out of this little deal, huh? Or do you just volunteer to have sex with my friends out of the goodness of your heart?”

“I’m getting guitar lessons out of it,” he says without hesitating. “But it’s also the goodness of my heart.” He smirks.

Gwyn throws a surprised look in his direction. Nesta is more than ready to smack the smirk off his face with her bare hand, but she settles for her words instead. “What would Elain say if she knew, Azriel?”

Azriel’s face goes cold. “She has nothing to do with this.”

“I wish she didn’t,” Nesta says. “Explain why I have to comfort her when she wonders why you abandoned her without even a text message while you get to play around with my friends without a care in the world?”

Azriel might as well be made of stone. “You talked to her?”

“You’re a coward,” she hisses. “Do what you want, but know that you’re a coward until you explain yourself to her.” Nesta lets out a ragged breath and drags her stare to Gwyn.

Gwyn shakes her head quickly and raises her hands in defense. “I’m just trying to get laid. Don’t bring me into this.”

Nesta pats her arm. “Of course not, babe.” The last thing she wants is Gwyn involved with either of her sisters—which is why it would be preferable if Gwyn avoided Azriel altogether.

Gwyn lets out a big “Phew,” and cuts an unreadable look toward Azriel. He avoids her gaze.

“Let me get you a drink,” Gwyn says quickly to Nesta, starting to steer her toward the kitchen. Nesta shakes her off and steps away. “It’s okay; I’ll leave now. Also, I can see your—” She waves at Gwyn’s lower half.

Gwyn chuckles awkwardly and tugs her shirt back down, her cheeks flaring red. “I’ll go get your sweater.” She rushes back inside her room, leaving Nesta and Azriel alone in the hall.

Azriel says nothing, but Nesta stares him down until Gwyn returns wearing a pair of shorts and carrying Nesta’s sweater. “Here, I already washed it for you.”

Nesta breaks her gaze with Azriel to take her sweater. “Sorry for breaking into your room,” she tells Gwyn. “I didn’t mean to ruin your…” She nearly gags trying to finish her sentence, so she doesn’t bother. Instead, she turns back to Azriel. “I’m excited to see how those guitar lessons pay off. You’ll give us all a performance when this is over, hm?”

He doesn’t bother responding, and Nesta takes her leave.

***

“I still can’t believe him,” Nesta is grumbling while she and Cassian get ready for bed. “How long is he going to stay in the reading nook like that? I can’t get to my books and he knows it.”

“He’s punishing himself since you won’t,” Cassian says as he towels off his damp hair. Water droplets speckle his bare chest. “He won’t go back to his room as long as he feels guilty about Elain.”

Once Nesta decided that getting vengeance for Elain’s broken heart would do more harm to the cabin ecosystem than good, she chose to contain her anger at Azriel by pretending that he simply didn’t exist. As for Azriel… Azriel has been sleeping on the loveseat in the upstairs reading nook for the past five days. The two of them haven’t spoken since Nesta caught him in Gwyn’s bedroom.

Cassian himself has many thoughts about the choices Azriel has been making lately, and a part of him knows it would be easier for everybody if he just forced Az’s sorry ass back to Velaris. But Nesta is involved in this, too, and she has yet to give the order to kick Azriel out. Rather, she seems content to either ignore him or to burn judgmental stares into him.

Out of love for Azriel, Cassian can’t help but be relieved.

Nesta scoffs in response to Cassian, slathering lotion onto her legs. “Bullshit. He’s punishing me by taking away my reading nook, the bastard.” Done with her legs, she searches around the bed for her glasses, squinting because she can’t see a thing.

Withholding his amusement, Cassian goes over to her and plucks her glasses from the top of her head, sliding them onto her face. She blinks and gives a rare smile up at him when she realizes she can see again, then soon frowns as she casts her gaze about the room. “Where’s my book? Did I leave it at home again?”

Cassian knows Nesta calls the apartment home out of old habit, but it still makes jealousy sting in his chest. “I’ll get you another one,” he offers. “What do you want?”

She gives him the title for something that has to do with erotic Vikings that he immediately recognizes. It’s on the top shelf in the reading nook. He promises to return with the book.

The rest of the cabin is dark by now, but Az is still wide awake and staring up at the wooden beams that criss-cross the ceiling when Cassian sneaks into the nook. Moonlight coming in through the glass door leading to the balcony illuminates both of them.

Cassian doesn’t know whether to feel exhausted or irritated, so he passes by his brother without a word to look for the book.

He already confronted Azriel earlier about what the hell was wrong with him, and got nothing out of the man. Not even an apology. At which point Cassian wanted to beat some sense into him the way they used to during their school days, but restrained himself through some godly miracle.

He’s trying—really trying—not to shove his nose into Azriel’s decisions like that. If he does, he’ll end up being just as bad as Rhys.

Finding the worn paperback boasting a shirtless Nordic god on the cover, Cassian turns to leave.

“You know Nesta can get her books herself, right?” Az’s voice sounds velvety in the darkness.

Cassian bristles. “Don’t start.”

“You mad at me too?”

Yes, Cassian is mad. Mad that he seems to be the only brother with a working brain anymore. “When do you plan on getting your shit together?” he says.

“How?” Az replies. “By apologizing to Elain or by leaving Nesta’s friend alone?”

Cassian still can’t wrap his mind around the fact that the Gwyn who used to shy away from talking to him ran straight into Azriel’s arms for sex advice. On one hand, good for her. On the other, Cassian wishes she had less messy taste. “Both,” he grits, getting frustrated.

Az shrugs, still staring up at the ceiling. “I’m keeping my promise to Gwyn. No matter what.” He sounds nonchalant, but Cassian knows he’s serious.

His grip on the paperback tightens, because that’s still not a real answer to his question. “I warned you when you moved in that you were walking a thin line, Az. I’ve been nice for the past week, but at some point you’re gonna have to tell me why I shouldn’t kick you out right now and save myself and Nesta the headache.”

Azriel finally meets Cassian’s eyes, and his gaze is unreadable. “Do it, if that’s what you want. I don’t care.”

Cassian’s face darkens with rage. “Just watch me, then.” He leaves before he can throw the book at Azriel’s head.

Back at their bedroom, Nesta takes one look at him and asks, “What happened?”

He tosses the book onto the bed and doesn’t come any closer. “I told Azriel I’d kick him out.”

Her brow furrows in concern. “Will you go through with it?”

No. And Az knows it too, the asshole.

Cassian takes in a shallow breath. “I just want to be a good brother.” It’s why he can’t stop giving Az chances, even when it inconveniences the woman he loves. “I want to be a good brother, a good partner, a good friend. I want to be all those things at once.”

Nesta’s lip quirks up. “You’re definitely better at all that than I am.” She rests her chin on one bent knee and frowns. “What else do you want to be?”

“That’s it.” His shoulders slump. “Nothing else.”

Nesta gives an amused huff. “All those things are for other people, though. Forget me and Azriel; what do you want to be for yourself, Cassian?”

What do you want? Cassian remembers her asking him a long time ago.

That… he doesn’t have an answer for. He rubs the back of his neck and stares at the ground. “I dunno,” he says, trying to sound flippant.

Looking up with a smile, he goes over to Nesta’s side of the bed and crouches at her side. “Who has time to think about all of that, anyway? I’m already happy doing exactly what I do.”

Still frowning, Nesta shifts on the bed so she can better face Cassian on the ground. “Do you really not know?” she says quietly.

Letting his smile drop, Cassian presses his lips into a wavery line.

She takes his face in her cold, thin hands, and he lowers his head onto her lap. A pounding has started up behind his eyes.

“It’s okay if you don’t know,” she says when he doesn’t speak. Her hand travels to the spot between his shoulder blades, and she pats his back in consolation. “You’ll find out. I’ll still be here when you do.”

He doesn’t lift his head, because if he does he might cry, so she keeps patting his back for a long while.

***

The next night Cassian finds himself in the kitchen, as he often does lately. The gnocchi for dinner is missing something, but he can’t tell what it is.

Swiping some pomodoro sauce from his wooden spoon with a finger, he goes over to the kitchen island and holds it out to Nesta. She licks it off his finger and says, “More cream,” before going back to her rant. “But really, does Eris want me to hurt him? Because if he keeps acting like this I’m going to physically hurt him.”

“You should do it if it makes you happy, babe,” Cassian says absentmindedly, more focused on checking the potatoes au gratin in the oven than on their conversation.

Two heavy, heart-attack worthy potato dishes on the same night, all because Nesta was in the mood for it. It sickens Cassian to think of the unhealthiness of it all, but these days it’s like he can’t stop himself from making food. It doesn’t matter whether the meal is fatty or not, as long as it tastes good enough for date nights.

By the time dinner is served and Cassian is settled in next to Nesta at the island, the topic of conversation has moved far away from Eris and law school.

“I used to be a fitness freak,” Cassian says mournfully as Nesta piles more and more cheese-covered potatoes onto his plate.

“Your abs look the same as the day I met you. You’ll be fine.”

Cassian didn’t even think about his abs. He presses a hand to his torso in worry. How long until those are gone, too?

“Eat.” Nesta shoves a fork into his hand and starts to dig into her own plate.

Cassian takes it reluctantly. “You know, this is bad for you too.” He realizes suddenly, “Have I been poisoning your health this whole time?” That’s even worse than the thought of losing his abs.

Nesta’s fork stops halfway to her mouth. The look on her face is disgusted enough to curdle milk, as if Cassian might change his mind and try to take her dinner away. She visibly swallows her feelings back and scoots closer to Cassian, spearing some of his gnocchi on her fork.

“Come on, we’ll clog our arteries together.” She pats his back the way she always does. “We’re here for a delicious time, not a long time.”

Cassian can hardly say no when he’s getting food shoved into his mouth without warning.

But despite his defeat with dinner, he’s joined by a sleepy and irritable Nesta the next morning in the home gym. She refuses to speak a word to him at such an early hour, but her compromise is loud and clear when she begins stretching and warming up. She’ll be here while he figures out whatever it is he wants to be for himself.

***

a/n: what do y’all think. is cassian overreacting, is nesta overstepping, or are they right and azriel is a menace who needs to be stopped (asking bc sometimes i cant tell when my mcs are being annoying)

tagging: @hellasblessed @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @wannawriteyouabook @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes @readiajin @nessiantrashh @live-the-fangirl-life @ifinallygavein @xoblivisci @sjmships @jungtaekwoonie-is-life @lysandra-tiara @lanyjoy-13 @post-it-notes33 @loosingdreams @fromthelibraryofemilyj @18moneytoad @dontgetsalmonella @champanheandluxxury @togreblog @arinbelle @ladygabrielli1997 @meridainthedisneyland @moodymelanist @pixieelea

[onlyfreds]

Isn't it Obvious? | F.W.

Title: Isn't it Obvious?

Requested: Yes/No

Summary: Y/N and Fred are too oblivious to the fact that they are lovesick puppies just chasing each other around. So, Ginny and George decide to take matters into their own hands.

When the sun's going down, we'll be raising our cups Singing, here's to never growing up

The lyrics blasted over the speakers Hermione had managed to smuggle into the Gryffindor common room. It was around easter and most of the residents of the Gryffindor tower had gone home for the holidays. Leaving Hermione, Harry, Ron, Ginny, the twins and I at Hogwarts.

It was currently a Saturday evening; the clock had just struck seven. Since we were the only ones left, we could party as late as we want.

“Who knew Hermione Granger knew how to do something like smuggling a muggle speaker into Hogwarts.” Ginny said with a small laugh, taking a sip from her cup.

I laughed, “I know right. I was quite surprised when I saw her taking out the speaker from her bag.”

“Hey!” Hermione complained, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink due to the alcohol, “You two say it like it’s a bad thing.”

“Hey,” Ginny suddenly said, nudging my shoulder lightly, “Someone’s checking you out.”

I glanced over at the direction she was nodding to, Fred, one of my best friends, shot me a wink when our eyes locked with each other.

I looked away immediately, taking another drink of Firewhiskey, the intensity of the alcohol slightly burning my throat.

“No, he’s not.” I said, causing the youngest Weasley to roll her eyes at me.

“Seriously Y/N, you’re smart enough to be in Ravenclaw but you can be so daft sometimes.” She said.

“What do you mean Ginny? What am I daft about?” I asked.

Hermione gave an exasperated sigh, “Honestly, it’s so bloody obvious. Even Ron knows about it. And that’s saying something.”

“Knows about what?” I said, now more confused than ever.

“That you and Fred are practically like lovesick puppies with the way you’re head over heels in love with each other.” Ginny stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

I laughed, swiftly taking the red cup from Ginny, “I think you’ve already had too much to drink.”

She snatched the cup from my hand, “I did not have too much to drink. You just don’t want to accept the fact that Fred actually feels the same love as you do.”

I sighed, “Ginny, why in the name of Merlin would he fall for me. When they are so many other girls that are so much better than me.”

Hermione smacked me the back of my head as she gave a drunken smile, “That’s because he wants you dummy. How many times do we have to tell you that?”

Ginny and I exchanged a look, “She’s drunk, isn’t she?”

The redhead gave a small laugh, “She is.” She said as she gently took the cup from Hermione’s hands.

“But Hermione’s not lying you know.” She said as we lugged Hermione up the stairs to her dorm, “That Fred likes you.”

I sighed, “Ginny. I won’t deny that your brother is handsome and hot as hell. But Fred, maybe my best friend, but he can get any other girl that I know and bet is prettier and better than me.”

Ginny scoffed as we plopped Hermione down on her bed, “Both of you are just too stubborn for your own good.”

--

I was walking towards the hidden corridor by the third corridor, where the twins were waiting for me.

“Hey Y/N! Wait up!” A voice called out causing me to stop and turn towards the voice.

“Hey Cedric.” I said with a small smile, “What’s up?”

“I just wanted to ask, what do you think Cho will like?” He asked, lowering his voice down to a whisper as he gave a shy smile.

“Ooh.” I teased, “Someone has a crush.”

He chuckled, “Yeah. I was thinking of asking her out.”

I thought about it for a moment, “Well, as far as I know, she likes white chocolates and roses.”

The Hufflepuff gave a grateful smile, “Thanks Y/N!”

I nodded, “Not a problem.”

He then walked off, probably to get the supplies he needed.

I started to head back on my way to the hidden corridor when I saw the twins waiting for me by the end of the hall.

“Hey guys!” I said once I’ve caught up to them, “What’s got his wand in a twist?” I asked George when I noticed the unusual scowl on Fred’s face.

The younger twin shrugged, giving a small smile, “Dunno.”

We started to walk back to the common room.

“I’ll just take a detour to the bathroom.” Fred suddenly said, “You two go on. I’ll see you at the common room.” He then dashed off before George and I could say anything else.

I gave a George a look, silently questioning his twins’ behaviour, to which he just shrugged.

“You know,” He said with an amused tone lacing his voice, “If you two would just suck it up and stop being so daft, then half of the world’s problems would be solved.”

I groaned, knowing where this conversation would be heading, “Ginny already gave me the pep talk. I’ll say it again, Fred doesn’t fancy me.”

George rolled his eyes, “Oh believe me dear Y/N, he does.”

“And may I ask why you’re assuming this?” I said.

“I’m not assuming this.” He answered, “It’s the truth. And I’m sure of this because one, I’m his twin, I know what I’m talking about. Two, it’s frankly obvious that he literally gets heart-shaped eyes whenever the two of you are in the same room. And three, take now for an example, he got jealous when you were talking to pretty boy Diggory.”

I stayed silent, contemplating on whether I should believe George or not.

I mean, Fred is my best friend, but that doesn’t stop me from being a flustered mess whenever I’m around him.

--

(Fred’s POV)

Night had fallen once again, I trudged up to my dorm, seeing George was already up there.

As soon as I sat down at the edge of my bed, George spoke the words that told me this would be a long night.

“Instead of sulking whenever you see some other guy talking to her, just go to her and confess your undying love for her.” He said.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair, “If only it was that easy, it’s obvious that she likes someone else Georgie. I’m only saving myself from the embarrassment.”

George scoffed, “And who exactly do you think she likes?”

I took a deep breath, struggling to get the words out of my throat, “You, Georgie. It’s you she fancies.”

He suddenly shot up from his relaxed position, “What in the name of Merlin made you come up with that?”

“Can’t you see?” I argued, “She can talk to you easily but she can’t do the same with me. Isn’t that already a bloody sign?”

“No, you idiot!” He said, “She can talk to me easily because she becomes a stuttering and flustered mess around you.”

“How sure are you about that?” I asked.

George rolled his eyes, “Maybe if you weren’t such a daft idiot then you would see the bigger picture.”

I sighed, not wanting to argue anymore, “I don’t know Georgie. Besides, why would she want an idiot like me?”

--

(Reader’s POV)

“Where exactly are we going again?” I asked trying to keep up with George, who was practically in a hurry.

“Fred’s injured, okay, he got hurt.” He hurriedly answered.

I stared at him in disbelief, “What? Why didn’t you bring him to the hospital wing?”

“I-I’m sorry.” He managed to stutter out, “But I panicked and the only thing I could think of was getting you.”

We stopped in front of a broom closet, before I could register what was happening, the door opened as I was suddenly pushed inside.

“Sorry about that Y/N!” I heard George say as the door suddenly shut close.

“George!” I said, pounding on the door, “George Fabian Weasley let me out of here now or else I will murder you!”

I heard a small chuckle from the other side of the door, ‘Sorry Y/N, no can do. It’s for the betterment of society.”

I started to search for my wand, “How is locking me in a broom closet a betterment for society?”

“Looking for your wand, aren’t you?” George asked, the grin evident in his voice.

Frustrated, I kicked the door, “George, give me back my wand!”

He hummed, pretending to think about it, “That’s a pretty good offer, but I think that I’d rather hold on to it for a while longer.”

“George!”

“Don’t worry Y/N, you’ll have company soon enough.”

As soon as he said that, I heard two voices that I recognized as Ginny’s and Fred’s.

“Hurry up Fred!” Ginny said.

I heard the footsteps grow louder.

“What’s happening Gin? I thought Y/N was in trouble? What are we doing here?” Fred fired question after question to his sister.

Next thing I knew, the door of the closet opened again, and this time Fred was pushed and locked inside with me.

“What the hell guys?” Fred said, pushing on the door, but it wouldn’t open.

“Nuh uh.” George tutted from the other side of the door, “You two will be staying in there until you’ve confessed your undying love for each other.”

“And.” Ginny added, “We don’t care if we have to lock you in there for a week. We won’t let you out until you confess.”

Fred patted his pockets, obviously looking for his wand.

“Let me guess.” I said, “They took it too?”

He looked up, his long hair slightly falling in front of his eyes, “Looks like they did, what do you think they’re playing at?” He asked.

I shrugged giving him a small smile, “Something about confessing?”

“You two know why you’re in there!” Ginny’s voice ran through the wooden door.

Even in the dim light, I could Fred roll his eyes, muttering something under his breath that I couldn’t quite comprehend.

Both of us settled for sitting on the floor next to each other, “How long do you think they’ll keep us here?” I asked.

Fred gave a quiet chuckle, “Dunno. But you heard what they said, they won’t hesitate keeping us in here for a week.”

“Pity.” I muttered causing him to laugh.

The two of us stayed in the dark silence, casually talking about the most random things ever.

“Do you think that they’ll really lock us in here for a week?” I asked, resting my head on his shoulder.

No answer came from my companion, I lifted my head off of his shoulder, “Freddie, are you okay?”

He bit his lip as he muttered, “Screw it.” Then he cupped my face in his hands before crashing his lips onto mine.

I was knocked back slightly from the force of the kiss, immediately placing my hands on his shoulders in order to maintain my balance.

I have always dreamed of what it would be like to kiss Fred Weasley. Now, I was getting first-hand experience.

We both pulled apart minutes later, in need of air and the temperature of the room seemed to have gone up by a few degrees.

“That’s was amazing.” Fred said with a small chuckle.

I giggled, “Best snog of my life.”

He smiled, tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear.

“Be my girlfriend?” He asked so quietly, that I doubted that I heard it right.

“Come again?”

“Be my girlfriend?” He repeated.

I grinned, pressing a kiss to his cheek, “Gladly.”

Fred beamed as if someone has just handed him the world on a golden platter, pressing a brief kiss on my lips, “I love you.”

I giggled, “I love you too.”

The door of the closet suddenly opened, the two of us having to adjust to the light after being in the darkness for so long.

“Finally.” George said with a proud smile, “Thought we’d have to lock you two in for a week.”

𝚃���𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝:

@lumosandnoxwriting @gostupid-godumb @famdomhideout @nova-darling @gaycatlord-stuff @pandaxnienke @escapingrealitybyreading @catching-the-train-to-hogwarts ​ (Send a Message/Ask or fill out my taglist form if you want to be added!)

[hogwartsmarvelmommy]

Its been you (H.H)

Warnings: fluff. Brief mentions of sex.

Masterlist

You heard the front door of the apartment open. You were sitting cross legged on your over sized couch typing away for an essay that you had due in less than five hours. Your roommate had been traveling and you weren't expecting him home yet, but the guy never really gave you much of an update, so you figured the door opening was him coming home early without warning.

“Y/N?” you heard a familiar voice call from behind you. Your head shot to look at the boy. Tall, blonde, blue eyed.

“Haz, what are you doing here?” you asked.

“Harry told me I could come crash in his room tonight, Liv and I,” he paused and looked down at his feet. You could tell something was wrong, but you weren't sure exactly what. “I walked in on her in our bed with someone else, and i, i don't have anywhere to go,” You could see the tears pooling in his eyes as he spoke. You lifted your hand for him to stop talking. That was enough of an explanation. Your apartment was an open door to friends, especially when they needed somewhere to escape their own reality.

“Come here,” you said as you set down your laptop and stood up, opening your arms to comfort him. He needed a friend in a dark moment, and though you hadn't known Haz for as long as other friends you had, you still considered him a close friend.

He walked over to you, and buried his head in your neck, wrapping his arms around your waist and you could feel the tears slipping from his eyes onto your skin. How someone could do this to him, you weren't sure. You were sure that he didn't deserve it though. After a while, and a few more tears, you both sat on the couch, a movie playing in the background.

“Sorry Harry didn't give you a heads up,” Haz mumbled.

“Well he knew i wouldn't mind, so don't fret it,” You told him.

“What is it with you two anyway?” he asks you, catching you off guard.

“What do you mean?” You had an idea of what he was going to say but you stayed hopeful that he wasn't referring to that.

“I mean, three years you two have lived together, and neither one of you has ever dated or anything. Is there something going on between you two?” His question struck a nerve in you, but you were a calm person so you wouldn't let him know that.

“Well, I mean we're close, but nothing like you would think I'm sure. Just haven't found the right person, either of us, you know?” It was a stupid excuse and you knew it. Of Course you never wanted anyone else to know why you haven't dated anyone in three years, You were ashamed of the reason.

“So, you guys have never..?” you laughed at the rather personal question Haz had asked.

“Wouldn't you like to know,” You teased.

You felt your phone buzz under your leg and you grabbed it to check what it was.

Harry: Haz there? Told him he could crash in my room. Having a bad night.

Y/N: He's here.

Harry: Thanks love. I'll be home soon. Won't have to miss me much longer.

Y/N: What makes you think I miss you Holland?

You knew you did. Of course you did, he was your best friend and had been for years. You felt the buzz of your phone again and looked down.

Harry: Well cause I miss you. Like a lot.

Your heart skipped a beat as you read that last message, and you had to pull yourself together.

Y/N: I miss you too. Like more. Hurry home.

You shut your phone off, knowing anything else he could say would probably turn your cheeks a permanent red and you didn't want to try and explain that to Haz.

“He loves you, you know?” Haz's voice was quiet but you heard him clearly.

“What?” you asked.

“Harry, he loves you. Maybe just as a friend, but sometimes i'll catch him looking at you in a way that friends don't look at each other,” his words were soft and true. Friends shouldn't look at each other the way you and Harry often did, but what could you do?

-

-

-

You woke up the next morning still on the couch. Your neck hurt from sleeping in an almost upright position but you tried to ignore that. Haz was sprawled across the other side of the couch, sleeping peacefully. You heard a noise come from Harry's room and you felt an uneasy tightening in your stomach.

What was that?

You got up quietly and walked over to Harry's door and pushed it open to reveal the curly redhead standing in front of his suitcase.

“Hey you,” You said, making him jump. He turned around and smiled at you, a lovely toothy smile you had missed so much.

“Hey you,” He said, rushing to you, throwing his arms around your waist and lifting you up. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you buried your head into his messy mop of curls, taking in his wonderful scent. “I missed you,” He told you, setting your feet back on the floor, you loosened your grip on his neck but didn't fully let go.

“I missed you more,” You teased. He laughed and rolled his eyes burying his head into your neck, his lips resting on your bare skin sending a fire down your body.

“I have so much to tell you, so many stories. I should probably shower first though, i’m sure i don’t smell great,” He told you, letting you go and walking back farther into his room. You stood in his doorway admiring him, as he rambled on, he slipped his shirt over his head revealing his bare chest, making your cheeks flush a pink hue.

“Harry,” You interrupted.

“Huh?” he asks, turning to you.

“I'm glad you're home,” you tell him sweetly. He smiles at you, rolling his eyes. You shut his door and go to walk to your room but you notice Haz sitting up looking at you. “What?” you ask.

“Not a way friends look at each other,” He teases you. You grab his hoodie and throw it at him.

“Shut up Haz,” you tell him laughing.

You walk into your bedroom, strip off your clothes from the day before and walk into your bathroom. You stood and looked at yourself in the mirror. Sometimes you didn't even recognize the reflection looking back at you. You rolled your eyes and got into the shower.

-

You finished drying your hair and getting a pair of black leggings on and a blush pink hoodie that didn't belong to you. You walked back out to the living room where Harry and Haz were both sitting on the couch. You walked over and sat down next to Harry in the open space that had been left for you.

“I was wondering where that one went,” Harry said pulling the string on the hoodie, “Where did you find it?” He asked.

The truth? The truth was he had left it in your room, on a drunken night, a few months back. Were you going to tell him that in front of Haz? No way.

“It must have gotten mixed up in my laundry or something,” You tell him. His eyebrows raise and he looks at you with a certain look that makes you know. He remembers leaving it all those nights ago.

“Looks better on you anyway,” He tells you. You smack his arm laughing.

“Shut up Holland,” You tell him.

“Mind if i shower?” Haz asks Harry.

“Go for it,” he tells him. Haz gets up and walks to Harry's room shutting the door behind him.

“Must have gotten mixed up in my laundry or something,” Harry's voice mocks your own as he laughs. “What, couldn’t just say, ‘you left it in my room a while back when we both stripped down to nothing and had sex all night long,’?” You stare at him, mouth open and can't help but laugh.

“I can't stand you sometimes,” you tell him while rolling your eyes and laughing.

“Sure you can't,” he said to you rubbing his hand up and down your thigh.

“Harry,” you groan.

“What love?” he asks.

“We can't keep doing this.” you tell him.

“Sure we can,” he tells you, as he gets off the couch and stands above you. His hand rests on your cheek as he leans down and connects your lips. He runs his tongue across your bottom lip making you moan, he kisses you harder, his tongue going into your mouth now. Your arms reach up and go around his neck pulling him down to you. His fingers tangle themselves in your hair and he pulls your head to the side, leaving wet sloppy kisses down your neck.

“Harry,” you giggle.

“Hey mate you know there is a bra in your bathroom?” Haz says as he comes out of Harry's room. Harry jumps up but falls over his own feet instead and you pull the hoodie up farther on your neck, hiding your glistening skin from where Harry's lips had just been.

“A what?” Harry asks, trying to play it off.

“A woman's bra,” Haz says, looking back and forth between the two of you.

“Oh, Uh, i, uh,” Harry stuttered.

“Must be mine, i had to use his shower last week cause mine wasn't working,” You tell him, hoping Harry's stuttering didn't seem too obvious.

“Come on guys,” Haz rolls his eyes not buying your excuses.

“What?” you and Harry both ask.

“I’m not blind,” Haz says. You sigh and Harry gets up to his feet.

“I promise you it's not what you think,” Harry tells Haz.

“Then what?” Haz asks.

“I don't have an explanation, if i'm being honest,” Harry laughs.

“So if i walked over to her right now and kissed her, it wouldn't even phase you?” Haz’s words shocked you., and you could see Harry's shoulders tense up.

“Don't do that mate,” Harry's voice came off even deeper than usual.

“Why, she's not your girlfriend, right?” Haz’s voice was taunting, and I could see he was getting the reaction he wanted from Harry.

“It doesn't matter, you're not going to kiss her.” Harry told him. Harrison took a step towards you, and Harry scoffed. “I swear Haz, if you lay a hand on her,”

“You’ll what harry? Admit that something is going on.” Haz demanded.

“Hey,” your voice came out louder than you expected, causing both boys to look at you. “You,” pointing to Haz, “Are not going to kiss me,” you looked over to Harry and your tone went soft. “It's okay,” You tell him, causing a slight smile on his face.

“Fine,” harry says. “I'll admit it,” You look back at him to see what he was going to say but his words shock even you. “I’m in love with Y/N”

-

-

-

The last few years, you haven't dated or talked to anyone because you were always hopeful that Harry would eventually notice you in that way, and then one night you had both been drinking and had kissed. It meant something to you, but he seemed to have just brushed it off like nothing. From then you just figured you were a meaningless booty call to him, and you had accepted that, but you always wanted more. You guys had been messing around for the past two and a half years, and yeah you were in love with harry, like head over heels in love with him, But you were sure you were just a quick fuck, or a booty call, because he never had time to meet anyone with how busy he always was. So to hear him say he was in love with you. You sat staring at Harry, your jaw practically on the floor.

“Oh shit,” Harrison said looking at you, who was obviously experiencing some shock.

“You what?” You whispered, knowing fully well what he had said. Harry looked at you, and took a few steps closer to you.

“I didn't mean to spring that on you,” Harry said apologetically.

“How long?” you asked him. He laughed and started counting on his fingers.

“Since that first kiss, probably two and a half years ago,” he told you. You reached up and swatted his arm. “What?” he asked.

“You have had me thinking i was a damn booty call all this time you shithead,” you tell him.

“I thought I was the booty call,” He laughed at you. You rolled your eyes.

“You guys have no idea what's going on between you, do you?” Haz asked. You and Harry both shake your heads no while laughing. “Go talk, you weirdos,” He tells you. Harry grabs your hand pulling you up and to your bedroom.

You walk over and sit down on your bed, looking at Harry who is leaning on your door. “I shouldn't have blurted that out, especially in front of him,” he says to you with a sorry look on his face.

“Why did you never say anything?” You ask him while fiddling with your fingers.

“I didn't think you thought of me as anything more than a friend, who you sometimes kiss, and shag,” He laughs, reaching up and grabbing his shoulder.

“You're an idiot then Harry,” You tell him. He looks at you surprised, “Why do you think I have never dated or talked to or about any other guys. I was always hoping that one day you would realize that i'm the one you want,”

“But you are,” He walks over and sits down next to you putting his hand on your thigh, causing your stomach to do flips.

“Don't say that if you don't mean it,” You whisper. He grabs your hands in his own and you look over to him, his boyish brown eyes staring deep into your own.

“I mean it, Y/N.” You're sure your heart is going to explode at this moment. This boy who you have held so near and dear to you was telling you that it's you, it's been you the whole time.

“Harry Holland, I swear you are going to be the death of me,” You tell him as a tear falls down your cheek, he rubs it away with the swipe of his thumb, and in this moment, you know everything is perfect

[elentiyawhitethorn]

When Passion Rules the Game | Part Six

CW: NSFW, language

Part Five//Part Seven//Masterlist//2634 words

Aelin chuckled. “I hate you.”

Rowan grinned, playfully squeezing her ass. “I hate you more.”

“I can’t even wrap my mind around it, though. You like the Wendlyn Eagles. It’s just incomprehensible.”

Rowan smirked. “You’re far too dramatic for your own good.”

“Someone has to be. The rest of the world is filled with some boring ass people, I tell you, Rowan.”

He laughed. “Having met with Chaol Westfall, I can agree with you there.”

A snort that was far from womanly left Aelin’s mouth. “I still can’t believe you had to work on that project with him all day. I felt so bad.”

“You didn’t,” Rowan protested. “You were laughing every time I looked at you.”

“I can’t deny that.”

They both laughed. But the humor slowly dissolved as Rowan trailed his hand along Aelin’s side. The light touch turned greedy as Aelin leaned into him, aching for a rougher touch.

His hand reached for her breast and squeezed. Aelin scooted closer and reached her hand down below the sheets.

Rowan had her hand in his grasp in an instant. “Be patient, sweetheart.”

“I wish you’d stop saying that,” Aelin muttered.

Rowan smirked. “But you need to learn it.”

“Training me to be a good girl for you, hmm?” Aelin scooted closer, the legs that had been casually intertwined now tangled against each other heatedly. “But don’t you want me to make you feel good?” She gave her best puppy dog eyes.

Rowan leaned in and nipped her lower lip. “If you ask nicely.”

“Please let me touch you,” Aelin rasped, fluttering her eyelashes.

Rowan gave her throat a quick squeeze, Aelin letting out a noise of content as he choked her. Then he let go off her entirely, and Aelin moved her hand farther under the sheet.

Rowan’s cock was half-hard when Aelin wrapped her slender fingers around it. He squeezed his eyes shut as Aelin started pumping her hand. She was thoroughly enjoying the small grunt that left his lips as he tried to hold back a groan.

Rowan thrust his hips into Aelin’s hand. She trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses along his neck as she pumped her hand. His cock hardened in her grip, and Aelin felt heat start to build between her legs.

Just when Aelin twisted her wrist and drew a growl out Rowan, he stopped her by flipping their bodies, pinning Aelin underneath him. He didn’t enjoy being the one squirming at someone else’s touch.

“Rowan,” she pleaded. He moved her arms, pinning her wrists over her head with one hand, and brought the other down between her legs. But Rowan only parted her folds with a finger, stroking gently. Aelin bucked her hips, but he only withdrew his hand.

“Please,” she whined. “Please, please, please.”

Rowan chuckled against her skin, licking a stripe up her neck and readjusting his hips so that Aelin was even more trapped under his body.

He slipped his finger inside her entrance, then pulled it back out immediately. “Beg me. Beg me to fuck you.” He roughly fingered her clit, then pulled his hand away entirely.

Aelin complied. Please was the only word in her vocabulary as she whimpered for Rowan to make her feel good. He finger-fucked her for a few minutes before he decided she was behaving well enough to come. Rowan pressed his thumb against her clit, rubbing circles around the sensitive bud of flesh. It didn’t take much for Aelin to be overcome by a massive wave of pleasure.

And when he fucked her, when he flicked her clit as he slammed into her, she came, not even close to satisfied. He didn’t stop moving not just until he came as well, but until she had a third orgasm. When he finally let up, Aelin dropped into a deep slumber, exhausted from his attentions.

—

They were back in the bar. Aelin was talking to a man, a man with silver hair and pine-green eyes. She didn’t know his name, but she wanted to.

“I’m new in town,” he said to her, but Aelin wasn’t concerned with the hazy lust clouding his eyes or the way his gaze dropped to her cleavage. She was thinking about how nice he was, how smart and kind and funny. She didn’t want to drag him in the bathroom, she wanted to tell him that she lo—

An obnoxious beeping filled the room, filled Aelin’s head, turned the man into a blur. Aelin snapped awake, scrambling into a sitting position. Her alarm was going off.

She glanced over at Rowan, drowsily rubbing his eyes beside her, still lying down. “You okay, baby?”

Aelin let out a long exhale, trying to recall what her dream had been about. Rowan, maybe?

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

He held her gaze for a moment longer, assessing the sincerity of her statement, then nodded and said, “We should get up. Work’s in an hour.”

Aelin steadied her breathing—what had her dream been?—and expressed her agreement. They climbed out of bed and headed around the house: eating, making coffee, brushing teeth, showering. It had been three months since they’d become friends with benefits, and they had toothbrushes and extra clothing at each other’s homes. It made things much more convenient, not having to wait until the weekend to hook up.

Aelin headed out a few minutes before Rowan, both because arriving at the same time could be suspicious if anyone noticed, and because she had no reason to wait for him. She called a farewell, knowing he had a key to lock her door with. Again, for convenience purposes.

Despite that and the fact that they cuddled often after sex, naked and talking about football teams, their relationship really wasn’t abnormal. They had just become good friends.

Aedion headed into her office only moments after Aelin herself arrived. He looked at her, frowned, and said, “You have a hickey.”

Aelin refused to blush, cursing herself for not even bothering to look in the mirror other than for a quick hair brush and some light lipstick. She merely leaned back in her chair, threaded her fingers in front of her on the desk, and said, “We have an issue with the camera in the main elevator.”

Aedion sighed and took a seat. “We’ll have it fixed by lunchtime. Still playing with your boy toy?”

Aelin rolled her eyes. “Get over yourself, Aedion.”

He snorted. “Me? You’re the one—”

“We are not having this conversation again,” Aelin interrupted. “Especially not here. Go fix the camera.” She tended to be relatively kind to her employees, and merely icy to the ones who pissed her off, but having grown up with Aedion, she tended to have a shorter temper when he was around.

A huff was all she got in reply before Aedion stood. He left, shutting the door gently—they had a silent agreement not to let their petty arguments disturb anyone else—and leaving Aelin alone. She pulled out her phone and swiped to the camera app, then took a look at her neck.

There was a dark bruise on the side, and Aelin breathed a sigh of relief. That would be easy to cover with her hair, unable to do anything less temporary during work. She pulled her blonde locks over that side and made a mental note to keep them there. Good thing she hadn’t passed many people on the way in.

Then she thought back to what had went down when Aedion had first walked in on her and Rowan, oh so long ago.

—

“What the fuck are you doing, Aelin?”

Aelin tensed. This wasn’t going to be fun.

She glanced over at Rowan, who looked part defensive and part confused. He probably didn’t realize Aedion was her cousin, though he might recognize him vaguely from work.

“You can go, Rowan. I’ll take care of this.”

He hesitated, looking back and forth between the pair. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I can handle him.”

Aedion snorted at that, but Aelin didn’t dignify him with a glance.

“Okay, but I…” Rowan trailed off.

Right. Aelin was still wearing his shirt.

“Um”—Aelin sent Aedion a smile—“We’ll be right back.” He was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, and he flashed a saccharine grin.

Mentally dying from embarrassment, Aelin grabbed Rowan’s wrist and dragged him down the hallway. Not bothering to say anything to him, she yanked off his shirt, tossed it to him, and opened her drawer.

“So that was… a friend?”

Aelin yanked on some underwear and sweats. She looked in a different drawer for a t-shirt. “My cousin. Aedion. He works security.”

“Ah.” What was different about Rowan’s tone after she said that? What was he thinking?

Aelin turned back around, fully dressed now. Rowan’s gaze was fixed on the wall, rather than watching her as she dressed. Apparently all desire had disappeared, replaced by awkwardness.

“He won’t tell anyone.” Rowan’s eyes snapped to Aelin. “He’s very protective of me, but as annoyed as he’ll undoubtedly be, he won’t say anything.”

Rowan nodded. “Good.”

They didn’t say anything more. Aelin nodded. Rowan nodded, too.

“Well,” Aelin said finally. “See you at work on Monday.”

Rowan laughed lightly. “Yeah, see you.”

They left the bedroom and Rowan walked ahead of Aelin to the door. He gave a tight nod to Aedion, who didn’t return the gesture. Aelin sighed.

Once Rowan was out the door, Aelin smiled brightly. “Take a seat.”

“I’m good here.”

She ignored his tone and plumped onto the couch. “Want anything to eat?”

“What are you doing?”

“That’s none of your business, Aed.”

He frowned. “He works for you.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Aelin snapped.

Aedion pushed off the wall and stalked forward, dropping on the couch next to her. “You’re his boss. He’s probably just trying to get a promotion.”

A scowl crossed Aelin’s features. “You don’t even have any idea what this is,” she hissed.

“Then enlighten me, please.” Aedion’s growing temper matched her own. “Do you love him?”

Aelin scoffed. “Of course not. I just met the man a few weeks ago. Besides, that would be inappropriate.”

“That would be inappropriate,” Aedion repeated incredulously. “And this fucking isn’t?”

She huffed. “Rowan is well aware that this won’t be affecting his career at all, positively or negatively. It stays out of work, okay? There’s no reason to be pestering me about it.”

“It’s wrong, Aelin.”

“It is gods-damn not,” she snapped. “I am an adult, and he is an adult, and if we want to fuck, we will fuck. There’s your laptop. Take it and leave.”

Aedion did no such thing. “You know I only care about you.”

“If you care about me, you will mind your own business.”

Aedion sighed and stood up. “I’ll talk you on Monday. Lunch, remember?”

Aelin wanted to yell at him, her stubborn demeanor making it difficult to lose her anger, but if he was taking the steps to end this argument, she could do the same. “Fine. See you Monday.” Her voice was only slightly less sharp, but the words were enough. Aedion smiled in acknowledgment and left.

—

So much had changed since then, but Aedion’s attitude toward the pair’s out-of-work activities was not one of them. He glared at Rowan whenever they were in the same room, trying to find something to fault him for, but there never was anything. During their time in the office, Rowan remained respectful and kind, exactly as she’d requested of him all those days ago. He truly was a good man.

Drawing her thoughts away from Rowan, Aelin reached for a pen and got to work.

It was an hour later that Rowan joined her, starting on their major workload for the planning of their newest fundraising activity, as well as the arduous task of budgeting. Having such an involved roll in many of Aelin’s largest tasks, she had a small table designated for him against the wall, if ever they needed more space. Other thank that, he just used the opposite side of Aelin’s own desk.

Neither of them mentioned this morning, as was usual.

It may have been Aelin’s overactive imagination, but Rowan seemed distant today. Distracted about something or other. He brushed her off when Aelin asked if he was okay, and she let him have some space after that.

By the time the end of the workday rolled around, Aelin was exhausted. It was Friday, which meant she’d just spent the past five days pouring her sweat and blood into each project and task. She did work on the weekends, but the little loads she did at home could hardly compare to the stress of the week.

Aelin always worked later than everybody else; she wanted to get as much done as she could, and she made sure her workers, if not herself, had good hours. It was nearly seven-thirty when she filed away the last document.

When she came out of her office to find an empty floor, vacated entirely by Elide and all of the other staff, she was surprised. She wasn’t surprised that all of her workers were gone. That was entirely expected. She was surprised that Rowan was gone.

Not that he was supposed to be here; even though he worked a bit later some days, he usually left before her. But sometimes he waited up for her, in case she was in the mood. Well aware of the fact that they had fucked last night and they didn’t do it every day or anything, Aelin mentally shook herself for being concerned about Rowan’s absence. Still, some of the uneasiness remained.

Rowan had a pretty good position in the company, and as such, he had his own, albeit small, office. Aelin peered in just to be sure he was gone. Only a janitor, Arobynn, was in the office, and she waved at him. He gruffly nodded.

Trying not to reprimand herself out loud and look like a lunatic in front of the janitor, Aelin headed to the elevator. She was bothered that she was so caught up in Rowan that him not being there, even when it was entirely expected, made her lonely. It was just the sex she missed, of course.

Aelin impatiently tapped her pen against the handrail the whole elevator ride down, and when the doors finally opened, she hurried to her car, feeling she needed a nap. And maybe a whiskey.

—

The weekend passed in a blur. Aelin texted Rowan once, but he hadn’t responded. She hadn’t pestered him after that, knowing full well that he was allowed to have a life and she didn’t want to be desperate and annoy him into coming over. But she couldn’t deny the rapidly growing kernel of excitement resting in the pit of her stomach as Aelin headed to work on Monday.

“Hello, Elide,” Aelin called merrily, waving as she passed her.

Elide just sent a bemused smile to her friend.

Aelin marched toward her office, peering through the windows to find… a man that was not Rowan. Backpedaling because Aelin didn’t want to meet a client unprepared, she stepped away before he could see her. Then she made her way back to Elide.

“Who is that in my office?”

Elide frowned. “I sent you an email about it last night.”

“Last night? The last work I did was yesterday afternoon.”

Elide sighed, as if Aelin should have been checking her email all weekend long. She always had such high expectations. “That’s Nox Owens, the replacement.”

“Replacement for whom?” Aelin asked warily.

Elide blinked. “He didn’t tell you?”

“Who didn’t tell me what?” Aelin crossed her arms.

“We had to find a new coordinations director over the weekend. Mr. Whitethorn tendered his immediate resignation last Friday.”

———

Tag List:

@aelin-bitch-queen

@autumnbabylon

@evolving-dreamer

@feysand-loml

@flora-shadowshine

@gracie-rosee

@infernoqueen19

@julemmaes

@lemonade-coolattas

@live-the-fangirl-life

@midsizewitch

@morganofthewildfire

@nehemikkele

@pagemasters

@realbookloverproblems

@rhysandswingspan

@rowanaelinn

@sexy-dumpster-fire

@sleeping-and-books

@story-scribbler

@swankii-art-teacher

@thenerdandfandoms

@theysayitscrazy

@yesdreamblog

[aelingalathyniusrailme]

Power recognizes power

A little power training gwynriel fic that came from me writing “if you find me at the edge, we’ll jump together.” and I was like this sentence deserves to be the title of something. plus throw everything (and by everything I mean that one sentence in the book) that you know about lightsingers away I’m just using the cute name. and yk there may or may not be some smut at the end. 

She was glowing.

She was glowing and Azriel did not mean she looked radiant or that she was overcome with joy, although she did and she was. Gwyneth Berdara was a living, breathing star. As if the spring equinox had come early this year.

Her skin lit up against the blackness of the sky and her hair burned bright with the ferocity of the hearth.

Gwyneth Berdara had stopped singing, the crowd was silent.  All eyes were on her but she was looking at him, her light, a beacon to his darkness.

His shadows yearned to go to her, he yearned to go to her. Instead, they both stayed stagnant, watching, waiting.

Azriel was had had enough, he dissolved from view and reappeared on the stage. Startled, Gwyn, took a step back and he stayed right with her, matching her step for step.

He gently tucked a stray piece of lit-up auburn hair behind her here, whispering, “It appears you glow, my love.”  

Gwyn, ultimately getting over her initial shock lightly pushed him on the shoulder, “Don’t do that.” She scowled.

Chuckling, he pressed his mouth to hers, in a soft, soothing kiss, forgetful of the audience behind them. As she relaxed beneath his touch, the glow became dimmer and dimmer until it ceased to be. Darkness returned and he stepped back. Gwyn took a breath and stilled. The nervous, passionate energy, that arouse when she sang, calmed for now.

Azriel turned to the crowd, “Due to the events that occurred here tonight, the performance will have to be cut short.” A soft boo drew his attention and immediately he isolated the noise. “Do you want to boo my mate again?” Azriel threatened coolly, his eyes narrowing.

Annoyed, she sighed and spoke to the crowd, “Oh ignore him, I truly am sorry for this interruption but I want to give nothing more than my best and right now I feel as if I can’t do that. the show will be rescheduled sometime next month, letters will be sent out with more information.”

He watched as the stunned and irritated faces slowly began disappearing. Some winnowing away, others taking the slightly more traditional door. Gwyn held her hand out to him. He took it, “So you’re a living lamp?”

“An astute observation.”  

“Is there any way I can convince you to rest now and figure this out later?”

She sighed, “It has been an especially long night.”

Azriel stared at her in disbelief, “did you just agree that you should rest?”

“Oh close your mouth, you’ll swallow a fly.” He responded by grinning at her and winnowing them away to their shared home.

Taking off his shirt he yawned not realizing how tired he actually was. It was still strange to him, being able to sleep so freely, without the looming fear of the past and what he couldn’t control. He stopped, realizing Gwyn had not moved from the door.

Gently he asked, “Are you coming?”

She looked at him blankly, lost in thought for a moment before she responded, “Um-yeah-later.” He was unconvinced so she tried again. “I think I’m going to stay out here and make some tea, maybe read a book.”

Azriel gave her a knowing look but did not push, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight Az.” He tenderly kissed her cheek and walked to their room, immediately passing out on the bed.

—————————————————–

Azriel awoke at dawn and turned, unsurprisingly, to find the left side of the bed cold and empty. He sighed as he got out of bed, pulling on a pair of pants, mumbling. “Gwyneth berdara, you are going to be the death of me.”

Knowing there was no way she would be in the house but believing he probably should, he checked regardless and when he determined that she was in fact not in the house, he closed his eyes. When he opened them once again he found himself at the house of wind.

He nodded in acknowledgment, “Clotho,”

Shadowsinger. “The one and only.”

Is there something you require? “Just looking for that mate of mine. Any chance she’s here”

You know she is, and you know precisely where to find her. Ask what you truly want to ask. Through gritted teeth, he asked, “How long has she been here?”

Since 11 pm. Exhaling, he muttered, “Why can’t that damn woman ever rest.”

Over excursion out of only stubborn will seems to be a similarity between the two of you. Azriel frowned slightly before smiling pleasantly, “It’s been a pleasure as always, thank you for your help.”

Clotho only nodded and Azriel began the stairs to the 7th floor.

It took a moment for him to find her, the shadowsinger was a trained spy, forced to observe and retain even the smallest of details, yet he couldn’t find a bubbly redhead in a room full of texts and stories.

Ah, no wonder he hadn’t seen her. Gwyn was surrounded by hundreds upon hundreds of books. She was drowning in literature, her hair was tied loosely in a braid with quite a few pieces falling out, there were dark circles beneath her eyes, and she was sporting the slightly insane look that came from a lack of sleep.

“Gwyn.” Her head jerked up in surprise to see him.

“Oh Az, Ok Ok, I promise I will go to sleep soon I just need 5 more minutes. I’m so so so close. I think I’m going to skip training today. Ok how about 2 minutes. 10. No that’s more. 10 sets of 1 minute. I just need 10 sets of 1 minute. I’m fine how are you?”

“Gwyn, my love, you’re delirious.”

She brushed him off, “What no I’m fine. I’m fine. Did I already say that? I can’t remember.”

Logic was never the way to deal with her insane stubbornness, so he tried a different approach. He pushed down his worry for her, and curled his mouth into a smirk, “I bet,” She perked up like a dog about to be fed, “that you can’t summarize everything you learned last night into,” he checked the clock. “15 minutes.”

“I could do it in 10.”

“Prove it.”

“And when I win?”

“I leave you to research. But if you can’t you have to go to bed.”

“Time starts now.”

Gwyn took a deep breath and began. “First I looked into where light magic is supposed to originate: the day court. Their magic is described as warm and comforting. Every single text I read described the magic the same way, as a sort of yellowish-brown light, like the sun. But the magic that came from me was more of an icy blinding light, like the lights from the stars rather than the sun. Also, as far as I know, I don’t have family from the day court so I looked into the family I do have. My family from the autumn court. However, we know that autumn court magic is fire, and what manifested in me was light not heat. My grandmother was a nymph so I thought well what type of magic do nymphs have. And the answer was severely disappointing, with basic plant magic being the most a nymph was able to do. I was stumped for a few hours before I realized. I’m basing my research on what I believe to be true not what I know to be true. I was told that I am a quarter nymph and because that heritage would explain my non-high fae-like features I believed that, for there was no reason for me not to. But what if my nymph grandmother was not a nymph at all. I flipped through dozens of books on faeries that have similar features, light magic, and/or can live on land and water. For the most part, I could not find anything, but then out of the corner of my eye I found a small tome on the history of light magic, the majority being all things I’d seen a million times before on the day court, but a passage no more than a page long, referenced ‘the lightsinger.’ Now what is a Lightsinger, you may ask? Honestly, I had no idea what or who they were so I found every book and story I could on them. The lightsinger’s, instead of being a title for a way to manipulate magic, like shadowsingers or daemati, were a race. A long-lost fae race said to be able to bend and create light with their voices and song. It’s said that they died out due to a conflict with the shadowsingers but every so often there are sightings of unknown nymph-like creatures in you’ll never believe where. The autumn court. Now I would only have 25% of lightsinger blood but magic is a fickle thing and some sources believe that when bred with high fae blood the magic intensifies.” Gwyn exhaled.

Azriel grinned victoriously, “It’s been 20 minutes.”

“Goddamn it, I didn’t even get to the interactions between shadowsingers and lightsingers.”

Now he was intrigued. “Well if you want to continue I certainly won’t stop you.”

“No no,” she yawned, “I lost which means I will be going to bed. But I do want to alter our deal slightly.”

“Oh?”

“I sleep now, you train me tomorrow.” The set of her chin and the look in her eye were enough to assure him of how serious she was.

“You want a male who specializes in darkness to help you master your light?”

“Certain theories believe that the mother gifted the light and shadowsingers their gifts to balance each other out and to remain harmonious.” She reasoned. “So yes there is no one I would want more to teach me.”

“I will not take it easy on you.”

“Wouldn’t want you to.”

“Alright Berdara, we meet Sunday at dawn, do not be late.”

“I’ll be there.”

——————————————————————————————————–

Sunday arrived and Azriel watched as Gwyn came down to the training ring in her leathers, with a white ribbon tied in her hair.

“Good morning Gwyneth.”

“So formal.” He shot her a look. “Oh alright ok my turn. Good morning Azriel, shadowsinger, spymaster of the night court, mate of the most amazing female to grace this planet.”

“Training is serious.”

“Of course it is. Shall we begin?”

“I want you to light up the room.”

“What? is it not already lit?”

He smirked and let his shadows paint the room black. Azriel himself became smoke, nothing more than a voice in the darkness.

“Az, az come on this is not funny.”

“Good, because it’s not a joke.” His voice came from every direction and every way Gwyn turned she was surrounded by endless nothing. “You must learn to sing the song of light the way I learned the language of shadow.”

“Speaking in vague melodrama feels like it’s not going to be that effective.”

Gwyn tried to back up only to find what was once the training ring now bled together with the depth of the sky.

“Let the light speak to you. Coax it, nurture it. Burn through the darkness and find the light.”

“How am I supposed to do that.”

Gwyn thought of the way Nesta harnessed her silver fire, the way her eyes became the flame itself. She concentrated and searched deep within herself, searching and looking for the light she knew she possessed.

All she saw was a hallowed chamber.

“No.” The word echoed throughout the room. “Our magic is not like others, we do not create out of nothing, we manipulate what is already there.”

“How am I supposed to manipulate if I’m in a room with no light?” Gwyn huffed frustrated.

“Just because the shadows are masking it, does not mean it is not there.”

He was so damn infuriating. She tried calling the light to her, she flexed her hands, she even tried speaking to it, all to no avail.

“As you said, magic is fickle and our elements especially. Light and darkness do not want to be bound or controlled, let the light be a friend, a companion, let it want to help, let it want to be influenced by your will.”

But how the fuck was she supposed to do that.

“Think of the first time it came to your call.” He whispered ominously. “What were you thinking. What were you feeling? Power often manifests through emotion.”

Singing. She had been singing. Was it really so easy that all she had to do was sing?

Turns out it wasn’t.

For hours she sang hundreds of songs. From songs in the old fae language that she sang at the priestess services to ones she had written herself. Nothing worked. Azriel had let her have a singular break when she desperately needed to pee and even then he was skeptical.  

He had left her to her own devices leaving his shadows to watch over her progress. When he returned he found Gwyn clutching her knees, rocking in the shadows. Her gaze was unfocused and she was humming to herself.

“You have officially broken me. I’m done.” She wanted nothing more than to sit in the library with her sisters and a book.

“No.”

Gwyn’s eyes snapped into focus, her breathing steadied, and she went predatorily still. “Excuse me.”

“You heard me. No.” Azriel laughed, a cold vicious laugh. “You asked me to train you. Gwyneth Berdara has never quit before and she certainly won’t start now.”

Gwyn was seething, but she remained quiet. “What?” He was toying with her. “A little darkness too much for you. Light up the room and we won’t have a problem.”

“Oh that’s right you can’t. 10 hours in and no light in sight. You’re pathetic.”

Her anger cleared her mind and in that moment of clarity a memory, buried deep within her, resurfaced as if it was resting, snoozing until its moment of need.

Gwyn was in her mother's lap, a black-haired girl sat across from her. Her voice pulled her attention. “My girls, Catrin,” She tickled her, resulting in a giggle from her lost sister, before she turned her head, “Gwyneth.” And also tickled her. Gwyn's small hands clutched at their mother, desperately trying to hold on. “My two beautiful daughters.” She sighed. “Your lives will be filled with so much darkness, darkness that you do not deserve. But I need you two to be strong, to stay with each other, and to find strength in the other.” ‘I don’t get it,” Gwyn whined.

“We are a part of a glorious and lost people, a people of light and song. But they fear us because they do not understand us.”

Gwyn and Catrin looked up at her, confused and innocent.

“It’s ok, you will. You know the song I sing to you every night before you go to sleep?” Gwyn and Catrin cheered, “Yeah.”  

“I want you to sing it with me, and I don’t want you to ever forget it. Can you do that for me?”

Their voices came together in a melodic lullaby. It was captivating and cold, those who heard could not look away. The song demanded to be heard, to be sung.

The words came tumbling out of Gwyn, they twisted around her tongue and lips as if finally home. Lost but not forgotten. Lost but born anew. Through the shadow and darkness, her eyes found the light, it heard her call and from every direction it found her. She pulled the brilliance of the stars to her and let the light paint the dark white.

The shadows retreated to Azriel who stood just two feet in front of her. Their eyes locked and he smiled, “there she is.”

The light flowed and flowed, and the room lit up in a blaze of pearlescent radiance. Her pale skin lit and she had once again become one with the stars.

But while the call came from her, there was another that drew her light forward. His shadows and her light curiously answered the pull. Finding each other between Azriel and Gwyn. One did not dissolve into the other like it should but instead mingled, swirling around each other in an almost playful manner. They became one from two opposites that never should have met.

As they blended together she felt a pounding in her chest and a throbbing somewhere lower. Her toes curled and she craved more. Their power was its own entity and yet connected to them. A push and pull, a desire to be close.

Azriel bridged the gap between them breathing heavily, pulling her against him as he’d never felt her before. “Az.” she gasped.

His eyes were on her lips as he licked his own, smiling, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so alive.”

“You’re the worst,” She said between breaths.

“I know.” And their lips met in a furious burst of passion.

He kissed her with a fiery hunger, a male starving. Her hands weaved through his hair, her fingers getting lost in the darkness. Gwyn wanted nothing more then to be lost in his darkness, as he wanted to drown in her light. Azriel gripped her waist, grinding his hardness into her causing her to moan.

“You make such pretty sounds for me.” He chuckled, ripping her shirt off.

“Fuck me.” It was an order, not a request.

“Gladly.” Their clothes were gone moments later. His kisses moved down her neck as he sucked and his fingers dipped to her cunt as he felt her. “Always so wet and ready for me.”

She wrapped her hand around his cock, “Always so hard for me.”

“Can’t help it.”

“Wouldn’t want you to.” He laid her down in the middle of the training ring and stroked his cock up and down her folds, pressing against her clit. “oh my god-fuck.”

With that, his control snapped and he buried himself to the hilt in her. Stroking once, twice.

He smirked, crooning, “look how perfectly we fit.”

His thrusts were slow and shallow, edging her on, basking in the feel of him in her, of her around him.

He then went harder, hitting her in the right spot every time, but Gwyn needed more.

“Faster.”  

“Your wish is my command.” Azriel fucked her hard and fast, and with every thrust she moaned in ecstasy, driving her hips forward, meeting him step for step.

“Oh my god fuck me.”

“Such a good girl, taking it so well.” He captured a moan on her lips, devouring her.

“yes, yes fuck.”

Where the light met the dark, was where Gwyn met Azriel. They were cocooned in a shell of power flowing between and all around them. They were a storm of blinding light and depthless shadow, the lines of what were and were not, blurred to just the other.

“Gwyn.” He groaned, nothing existed but them.

“Az I’m gonna cum.”

“Yes, my love, cum for me.”

Every thrust became sporadic and uncontrolled as if his pleasure had taken a mind of its own. He swirled his tongue around her nipple and ground her clit with his fingers.

It was all too much, Gwyn cried out as she came, her back arching, toes curling. Her cunt tightened around his cock as he fucked her past completion. She was everything and watching her cum was enough to send him over the edge as he emptied himself in her, collapsing on the ground next to her.

For a moment they were silent before Gwyn spoke, “would you like to hear what I learned about the interactions between Lightsinger’s and Shadowsinger’s” She smirked, “Apparently the sex is unlike even mate sex.”

“I can vouch for that.”

Gwyn laughed, and if it wasn’t the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard.