#had to spend like five minutes making sure I was spelling angel and not angle

[soupsandstars]

:')

[pallasperilous]

Boneless Wings

 {AO3 version}

So, blah blah blah, it’s their standard-issue disaster: pack of dumbass witches (always with the dumbass witches. Where do they find the time for this shit? Somebody get these women signed up for a Peloton subscription or a macramé class or a vibrator of the month club, seriously, whatever it takes—), ancient curse, Castiel being the actual angel of stepping in it, nobody cares. 

The point is, two hundred and forty-one hours of binge-worthy drama later, Dean and Cas are living in a semi-detached just a short thirty-minute commute to somewhere equally lame, Castiel has two literal-ass wings, and yes, Susan, they kiss now. 

The neighbors are weirdly cool with it. 

For those of you perving along at home, Dean could absolutely provide a list of the hundred or so ways that having a boyfriend* with giant fucking actual wings is super hot and/or awesome.

This is not that list.

(*you can just shut right the fuck up , Sam, because it’s either this or Dean will start saying lover. And nobody needs that. Nobody wants that.)

1.  Bird mites. Holy shit. 

 2.  Sharing a bathroom. The shower curtain rod, and consequently the security deposit, are early casualties. The medicine cabinet follows swiftly behind. Shower hijinks are not even an option.

 3.  Dean comes home one day from a gig and there is a giant plastic green turtle in the backyard. A closer inspection reveals that the turtle is actually a mule for about half a truck bed of industrial dust ‘n grit. It is, in fact, a kiddie sandbox. Dean points out that they do not, in fact, have a small child (FINGERS CROSSED), so...?

Cas then earnestly shows him an entire playlist of exotic birdy dust bath videos on Youtube. 

Dean then earnestly shows him the garden hose. 

4.  The down just gets, like...everywhere. EVERYWHERE. How many times have Sam and Dean practically sold their kidneys for a single angel feather for some dumb spell to solve some pointless Occult McProblem? And now Dean is picking them out of his damn teeth every morning. (No, gross, not because of... Jesus, no, that is not a thing.)

On the upside of this one, Dean finally has an excuse to buy a Dyson, which he’s secretly always thought looked awesome. It is. 

 5.  When Dean is scraping out the umpteenth canister of fluff he jokingly suggests they use some of it to supplement the tragically flaccid down comforter currently shaming their bed, and Castiel pitches an existential fucking sulk. Dean wants to experience happiness again, so he does not point out that it get ass-bitingly cold here this time of year, and decent bedding is not exactly inexpensive, and the Dyson kind of maxed them out on household purchases.

But whatever.

 6.  Castiel is indulging in what Dean thinks of as a sky pout when he flies right into a head-on with li’l Timmy NextDoor’s new Christmas surveillance drone. It dings the shit out of one of Cas’s left primary feathers (the scientific term is “those big motherfuckers”), which apparently hurts like a bitch. Cas is grounded for a few weeks after that and is cutely pathetic about it and at first Dean is absolutely down to kiss it better. By the end, Dean is almost ready to strangle Cas with his own necktie, but he has learned a lot of surprisingly interesting stuff about ancient Mesopotamia, like that it was super horny.

 7.  After the snow melts, Dean starts finding shit on the front step with the morning paper. It’s not even a good newspaper; Cas signed them up for the local fish-wrapper (or maybe it was Sam, before he fled for the hills— he occasionally breaks out in a  “support local journalism” rash). The crossword puzzle is insulting, but the paper does at least syndicate Carolyn Hax, whom Dean secretly suspects of being an absolute wildcat in the sack, so he grudgingly expends the calories to bring it in every morning. 

Anyway, at first the stuff he discovers crapping up the welcome mat is just shiny bits of trash — couple granola wrappers, some MGD pull-tabs, a few field-stripped twisty-ties. Probably just windblown, and he tosses it in the garbage can. 

Then a couple weeks in, things start getting...grisly? It escalates real slowly, from a variety platter of mouse bits to squirrel à la power line and then half of a dry-aged raccoon and an opossum that has recently graduated from playing dead to professional dead-being. The neighborhood crows obviously love that their front step is now a roadkill café; Dean has to bat increasing numbers of them away with the kitchen broom in order to relocate their horrible snack to the edge of the nearest storm drain.

Then one morning there are like twenty crows and they’re in just the cutest little football huddle-up around what turns out to be a human fucking finger with a retro-fun mood ring still on the knuckle (it’s feeling: Sad) and Dean fully loses his shit. 

Cas hears him freaking out and comes whomping out of the garage ready to, whatever, flap somebody to death maybe, but as soon as he establishes that Dean doesn’t need anything more than a fresh pair of boxers, he de-poofs a bit and assesses the whole human finger/crows situation in his usual infuriatingly unrushed way. The crows had mostly bounced up to the cable line over the house, safely out of brooming range, but one by one they start to drop down and hippity-hop back towards the world’s tiniest crime scene.

If Dean were five percent less freaked he’d be tempted to go inside and find out how much of a dent he can make in a six-pack before Castiel finally dings and spits out his results, but he isn’t, so he just stands there in silence clutching the broom like it’s a shotgun.

Eventually Cas says “hm,” and then he looks at the crows and makes some noises that sound like a spoon caught in a garbage disposal, and the crows make some scrawps and chuks back, and then one of them delicately noodges the tip of dead finger with its beak and then hippity hops back a foot or two, bows, and then they all fly away over the shitty little beige duplex across the street like they’re running ten minutes late to an important bird appointment.

Castiel stands up (Dean reflexively backs up into the doorway, as this involves Cas bomfing out his wings a bit for ballast and Dean has caught a blow to the nuts on more than one occasion), dusts off his goddamn slacks, pulls a plastic evidence baggie out of thin goddamn air or maybe his socks, and casually bags the finger like they’re doing a standard FBI wheeze. “So what,” Dean says, as Cas diligently zips the baggie, “the fuck?”

“Oh,” Cas says, blinking in surprise that Dean is still there and interested, “they think I’m their god.”

Dean kind of stares back at him, the six feet of dude and like sixteen feet of bird, and thinks sure, okay, but his face must still be stuck on “Tippi Hedren attic scene” because Cas puts a reassuring hand on Dean’s shoulder and adds “Don’t worry. I’ve told them I don’t require further offerings, and I reassured them that you’re my consort and were simply jealous of other potential mates.”

It takes Dean two weeks to come up with a response to that, but by then it’s become evident that no bird is ever going to shit on the Impala again, so he decides to just chalk it up in the win column and move on.

You know. The family business.

8.  No matter how tightly he folds them, Cas can’t fit his wings through the definitely-not-up-to-code doorway of the wood-paneled family rec room in the basement, so Dean claims it as his man cave and dubs it the “No Fly Zone.” 

Castiel doesn’t find this funny, but Dean really only uses it to fold laundry. 

 9.  Transpo is an obvious issue. Cas can almost stuff himself into the Impala if he sort of reverse-cowgirls the back seat, but then the wingtips smoosh up against the windshield and Dean’s visibility is approximately zip. And, sure, Cas could fly himself anywhere they really needed to go, he’s basically a Chevy Of The Air, but sometimes it’s raining, and the seraph Castiel — Shield of God, Heavenly Soldier of the Lord, multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent, will smell like a wet fucking chicken for days afterward. Febreze does not help.

Dean spends a few nauseating weeks contemplating the purchase of — and here he learns that the human gag reflex can be conditioned, but never truly eradicated — a convertible. Once Cas brings up the possibility of a minivan or perhaps a station wagon (he’s taken to studying family motor vehicles with all the intensity of a birder with a life list) and Dean makes him sleep on the couch.

Dean gets his own living room rotation after he shows Cas a Craigslist posting for a very reasonably priced horse trailer. Castiel points out that it’s used and Dean notes that neither of them is exactly mint in original packaging either. Castiel points out that he’s not a horse, and after a few necessary but admittedly unoriginal jokes, Dean pulls up a website with an exhaustive photographic tutorial on how to convert a horse trailer “for the safe and sanitary transport of ostriches, emus, and/or cassowaries.” Cas points out that he’s not an ostrich, emu, and/or cassowary, and Dean counters that he clearly isn’t, because an emu would probably show a little more gratitude, and that’s how Dean learns that the couch has a broken spring under the left cushion. The transpo issue remains unresolved.

 10.  Dean keeps a pair of shop-grade safety goggles by his side of the bed. It’s not the sexiest look, but it turns out feathers are stabby as hell when encountered at a particular angle. Cas can do the healy thing, of course, but they learn the hard way that cornea perforation is not really a mood enhancer. On the bright side, Castiel accidentally corrects Dean’s incipient presbyopia, which means Dean doesn’t have to hold the newspaper at arm’s length anymore when he’s idly speculating what Carolyn Hax looks like below the neck. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away.

 11.  You’d think that, when you’re coming down from a time-limited but incurable curse that makes you feel like every cell of your body has its own cute little individual headcold — because you missed a hex bag due to the fact that you were preparing your legal response to Sam turning up to the hunt wearing a goddamn hair scrunchy, as if he were fresh off the set of a very special episode of Clarissa Explains It All — anyway, you’d think that being wrapped in the warm embrace of an angel’s wings would be nice. 

But you would be wrong, because apparently your boyfriend has been out communing with the bees again, and those feathers pick up ragweed pollen like it’s their goddamn job, and guess what else angels can’t cure? Dean will take Motherfucking Seasonal Allergies for 600, Alex. 

12a.  One of the neighbors has that homesteading hippie brain disease that drives an otherwise normal-seeming person to brew their own beer and raise a bunch of chickens despite living within five hundred yards of a fully functioning Hy-Vee. There’s a week where one of the wee little velociraptors seems to be processing some kind of trauma because it starts yelling at dawn and keeps going until well past the hour that swearing is allowed on network TV. 

When Dean finally hammers on the front door the next afternoon the neighbor apologizes with some extremely nasty home-brew (HIPPIES) and some absolutely devastating weed (HIPPIES!) and explains that “Ginger is going through a rough molt” and then he kind of nods his head towards Dean’s side of the fence where Cas is futzing around in the squash plants and stage whispers (this is a direct quote) “You know how they get.”

Dean is about to rip the dude a new one for comparing his immortal space-kaiju lover to a fucking Australorp yard pullet when Castiel pops his head up over the white pickets and breezily contributes “Bad molt, yes, those are terrible, Dean can tell you all about how insufferable I am those weeks,” and sometimes Dean just doesn’t know why he even tries.

 12b.  The less said about angel molt, the better. 

Seriously, the freakin’ eyes-on-his-hands naked mole rat dude from, whatsit, Pan’s Labyrinth of Subtitles, would run screaming from this shit. 

 13.  There’s a 4th of July BBQ Potluck Block Party and Dean’s inability to stand idly by while good meat is abused ( shut up Sam ) means he winds up manning the grill and dismissing the pretenders to set some strictly inedible things on fire. Cas hangs out next to him and uses his flappers to kinda whupf the smoke away from Dean’s eyes now and then, which rules. It’s actually a pretty chill event until Sharon and Don From Number 4267, The Green House With The White Trim, turn up with a giant Pyrex full of naked, still-marinating teriyaki wings. 

Sharon And Don look down at their wings and then up at Castiel and then down at the wings and then up at Castiel and they are clearly teetering on the edge of a Midwestern politeness failure-based nervous breakdown. But then Cas, smooth as a margarine commercial, gently takes the dish from Sharon’s frozen hands, examines the contents for a silent moment, and says “it’s alright. They weren’t personal friends.”

He gets an extra burger for that one.

 14.  Cas keeps absent-mindedly trying to groom Dean — who, in case it still needs to be said at this point, possesses zero-point-zero feathers of his own — so he goes after Dean’s hair, instead. Dean has to stop him after his second hour of trying to straighten out a cowlick. “I don’t understand how you can steer properly with this deformity,” Cas says, as if it’s a genuine miracle that Dean isn’t constantly careening over ottomans like Dick Van Dyke. He’s even more horrified by Dean’s (frankly minimal) use of hair gel. “Jesus, Cas, it’s not like I’m drinking it,” he says, but then one time they have an epic make-out session shortly after Dean performs his masculine beauty rituals and there’s some smearage of various types of Product (tm) on the flappy areas. 

And, sonuvabitch, for the next six hours Cas is spirographing around the house like he has a heavenly inner ear infection, and he only stops veering into the doorframes after Dean wipes down every. Single. Feather. With mineral oil and about eighteen clean shop cloths. Dean switches to something called hair wax, which costs thirty zillion times more per ounce and makes him smell vaguely like church, but is a lot less gloppy. The things we do for love.

 15.  Seating inside the house is a bit of a conundrum, too. Cas can kind of flop his wings out to the sides if he sits in the middle of the couch, but then Dean’s stuck on the recliner, which is basically in the next county. Bar stools are disastrously tippy, Dean’s lower back and hips have not endured mumble-mumble years of hunting just to be subjected to a damn beanbag chair, and, after a brief flurry of optimistic excitement, Dean determines that they’d have to take the front door off to get a massage chair in. He finds a swing online that if, he can get the hardware properly installed in the crossbeam, is rated for up to 500 pounds, so he texts Cas the URL so he can check out the specs. After half an hour he writes back —

CASTIEL: Dean

CASTIEL: I believe this swing is intended for sexual congress.

DEAN: ...

CASTIEL: I can infer from the ellipsis that you have spent several minutes attempting to draft a response.

DEAN: ...

CASTIEL: Dean

DEAN: it’s multipurpose

  16 . On the plus side, though, big-ass wings make for a pretty good drying rack. He can get every sock in the house laid out on those suckers in a single round and, one episode of Dr. Sexy later, they’re perfectly dry and toasty warm, without any of the pair-busting casualties Dean has learned to expect from the apparently socknivorous dryer in the basement. 

Dean assumes it’s just the product of good air circulation and body heat until he realizes that he hasn’t had to toss a pair for being too worn out in...maybe six months? So he asks Cas “Are your wings... healing the socks” and after an entire Abbott and Costello routine centering around heal versus heel, Dean determines that the answer is: yes, his boyfriend’s wings are channeling the almighty power of Heaven to magically repair the socks Dean buys at Target in twelve-pack bags. On sale.

This is actually kind of sexy, if Dean is being perfectly honest, so, you know what? It doesn’t belong on this list.

 16.  So nobody really freaks out or bursts into tears or calls the news or the FBI or anything when Cas goes out in public with him, which Dean is secretly a little disappointed about, because come on. (Maybe giant wings just reads as a gay thing? Was there an episode of Will and Grace about this that Dean missed back when he was ass deep in wendigos or something?)

But no. Dudes tend to just glance at them across the Home Depot parking lot, throw them the Mutual Dude Acknowledgement Nod, and say some shit like “Comic-con,” or “nice anime” in a knowing tone. Then they go back to rolling their carts full of gaskets or hammers or whatever back to their mom’s station wagon. 

Little girls tend to go googly-eyed — Castiel seems to fall into the same category as a Disney princess, despite the stubble and the drabcore wardrobe, and Dean can’t count the number of times some mom has approached Dean at the grocery store (like he’s Castiel’s manager?? Which, okay...yeah, actually) and asked if they do birthday parties. The money would actually be pretty tempting if Dean weren’t five thousand percent sure that Cas would get them both arrested by launching into an anatomy lesson about duck sex or how God is a loser who favors relaxed fit jeans and Wild Turkey.

The worst is white ladies of a Certain Age, and it always seems to happen in the pudding aisle, for some reason. They either go cross-eyed with horniness and become indiscriminately handsy (Dean can’t blame them for the impulse, but also back off, Karen), or ask Cas for prayers for their cat’s chronic asshole problems (which Castiel WILL take seriously). 

Worst of all is when some hippie spinster clocks them. This woman inevitably reaches right for the feathers and asks in a willowy voice if they’d ever consider turning some of them into dreamcatchers to sell at her studio, which is literally always named The Faerie’s Glen. Then Cas gets confused about why, exactly, a sixty year-old WASP in a peasant skirt would need to call on the infant-protection powers of an Ojibwe spider goddess, while Dean just wants to bite the lady’s fingers off. 

Either way, it’s always a bad scene, and many fully loaded grocery carts have been lost to the fallout.

17.  For some metaphysical reason Dean is too dumb to suss out but also too smart to question, lugging a pair of Cessna-sized flappers around this mortal dimension actually seems to tucker Cas out. He doesn’t need to zonk out every night, but he semi-regularly throws in the towel and actually crawls in with Dean for the duration. 

This would be swell in theory, but the guy absolutely cannot settle the fuck down in less than three (3) human hours, which is the exact amount of sleep Dean requires to maintain his famously sunny demeanor. It’s not just ye olde tossing and turning — Dean can handle that, sharing a bed with Sam is like sleeping next to a kangaroo with restless leg syndrome — no, it’s a nonstop parade of little flippy-flappies and shiffle-shuffles and spontaneous outbursts of preening. 

So Dean makes him a Baby Sleep Sack. 

This is something Dean knows about due solely to one super dumb hunt involving a banishing sigil that had to be drawn in — he still feels like this had to be a misprint — human breastmilk, and that was obviously not happening. But the monster of the week wasn’t going to banish itself, so they wound up at the nearest Walmart, at 4am, picking up what turned about to be an unnecessarily generous supply of baby formula, along with a fresh box of shotgun shells because God bless America*. It doesn’t work, although “lots of stabbing” turns out to be a solid fallback plan, but the point is that while Sam was debating between Digestion Support or Neurological Development, Dean acquired an unprecedented familiarity with some of the products currently available to the sleep-deprived parent. So Dean finds some DIY Baby Sleep Sack knockoff patterns online and determines he can replicate and scale up the concept with some beach towels and duct tape, and the next morning he presents the lumpy but totally functional prototype to Castiel. 

Initially Cas thinks it’s a sex thing (reasonable, it probably is), but once they clear up that misunderstanding, he’s obviously a little peeved by the concept of being swaddled as if he were a gassy baby instead of a deathless sky monster in a sexy dude-shaped can. But Dean must be giving off some serious man on the edge vibes because Cas grudgingly agrees to let Dean tape him up the next time he’s feeling dozy. 

It’s real awkward and takes forever to get Cas bundled up right, and then he’s just kind of lying there on top of the sheets, like an enormous, grumpy baked potato. 

“I could easily break out of these restraints,” he says in a pissy tone after Dean has crawled in and turned off the light, and Dean rolls over to tell him “no shit”, but then he has to stop himself because the guy is already asleep.

Eventually they upgrade to a version made out of some of those trendy weighted blanket things, a few yards of parachute silk, and a whole lot of velcro. The dude looks so damn peaceful that Dean is honestly a little jealous.

*he doesn’t, actually. 

 18.  There’s a sunny afternoon that isn’t the usual Kansas is trying to murder you level of humid so Dean rolls the Impala out into the street for a wash. Cas helps him out a bit initially, although tragically not in a way that involves removing any unnecessary articles of clothing, but Deans sends him to grab a new tub of wax from the shed and he never comes back. After half an hour Dean needs a beer break and goes looking for him, expecting to find Cas lost in thought over whether Turtle Wax is made of actual turtles, or is made to put on actual turtles. Instead he finds Cas crouched on the shimmering pavement at the back of the driveway, sun beating down on him like it has a personal vendetta, and he’s got both wings stretched out real low above the ground. Dean kind of flips out because it’s the type of pose that just screams “stabbed in gut by angel blade” or “migraine from Hell, literally.”

Then Cas looks up, which pulls his wings up a smidge too, which in turn reveals that fully half a dozen neighborhood cats are lounging in the shady patch beneath his wings, spread out on the concrete like blobs of furry peanut butter. No, it’s actually eight cats. There are eight cats.

“Ling-Ling was feeling a little overheated,” Cas says, as if this explains everything. 

And, you know what, at this point, it does.

 19.  Dean has faith that eventually Sam or Cas or the third demon from the left in the second row will turn up a solution for the whole business. Castiel will get to tuck those bad boys back into the secret wing-closet dimension and he won’t have to worry about getting stuck in stairwells anymore, or being reported to the FAA (again). Then they can finally pack up the house, plaster over the more egregious spots of drywall damage, and go back to killing things outside of the tri-county area. The whole thing has been a pretty embarrassing interlude for a couple of dudes who’ve kicked Satan’s ass multiple times — Sam is probably telling other hunters that they’ve been deep undercover to take out a nest of suburban vampires, or a pack of ghouls with mortgages, instead of vacuuming angel down out of the AC unit and considering a Costco membership. 

And sure, there have been some...serious pluses to the situation (see: the other list), but, in his weaker moments, Dean has to admit that he’s kind of going to miss some of the goofy, irritating shit, too — like finding a six-inch feather in the veggie crisper (how? why?), or watching Cas fwap his wings out just in time to accidentally clothesline a jogger, or even the strangely compelling, sorta cheesy smell that starts to float around the house if Cas goes a little too long between hosedowns. 

He has actually grown fond of this shit. Which is 100% the least sexy thing on earth, it’s some genuinely, seriously pathetic goo goo crap, and that’s why nobody will ever hear a fucking word about it. People will ask “so what’s it like, with the wings” and Dean will waggle his eyebrows suggestively and review the highlight reel over an inadvisable amount of rail whiskey. His secret’s safe with, well. Him.

 20.  Seriously though, the bird mites. 

Gross.

[sun-flower-children]

Hello Little One

Taehyung x male reader ( some jungkook x Taehyung )

supernatural au where y/n is taehyung’s guardian angel and tae is going through a hard time and really needs a friend. During the summer between their sophomore (11) and junior(12) years in high school. angst + fluff

The summer vacation began and the two best friends wanted to spend the first day together. Today's plan was to stay indoors but tomorrow they were going to do a ton of things outside. Nevertheless, they had games, snacks, and entertainment prepared for the day. This was also going to be a sleepover. It was still early in the morning, around nine when Taehyung was dropped off at Jungkook's house for their day. His mother helped him pull id bags out of the back, kissed him on the head, and left for work. To get up to Jungkook's huge house, one needed to first climb a set of stairs that were essentially cement blocks stuck into indents made in the hill. There was a specific one that would always trip Taehyung up. His backpack and duffel bag were considerably heavy, prepared with things for the two of them to do for the next five days, Taehyung was wobbling a bit already. Struggling to get up the stairs, that single block tripped him over. TAehyung felt the rush of wind and the weight of the luggage on his falling figure. He was just beginning to brace for impact when...nothing happened. Taehyung opened his eyes and saw that he was standing on the block that came after the wobbly one.

He sighed and continued, even though he specifically remembers never going up to step that block. This sort of thing wasn't new, but that didn't make Taehyung any less inquisitive. The first time this happened was in the first grade on his way to school. Taehyung was allowed to walk by himself because their home was not very far from the academic grounds. He was walking merrily when crossing the street, he tripped and fell. This normally would have been nothing but no one noticed due to the swarm of children crowding that specific walkway. The teacher on the other end ushered what she thought was all of the kids to the sidewalk when suddenly a huge truck at high speed started honking. She looked back at the road, and saw Taehyung, but didn't move for fear that some other child would run out to try and save time. She started yelling at him to move and run to her as fast as he could, but he was too focused on putting his toy back into his backpack. It happened so fast, the whoosh of the truck, the scream of women and children around the crosswalk, and the clang of metal. The teacher rushed to him to make sure that he was alright, and saw that not only was he alive, but he had gotten away with only one long scratch on his elbow. Taehyung who was laying down started babbling about an angle coming down to save him. No one believed him of course, so he told his grandmother. Naturally, she hugged him, kissed his head, and set him on her lap. She explained that yes, angels are real, and yes, Taehyung has an exceptionally strong guardian angel because of how kind and caring he is. The next day at school Taehyung would tell everyone that a big angel came down and saved him but all the other kids and teachers laughed, they didn't make fun of him, but they didn't believe him either.

Taehyung subconsciously rubbed his scar on his right elbow, a nervous habit of his. Finally making it up the last step, he knocked on the door. Jungkook's mother answered the door, happily welcoming him into the house. Taehyung heard the familiar thumping of feet running down the stairs to be tackled by the younger of the two. Laughing, they walked up to Jungkook's room and dropped all of his stuff into the corner of the room.

" What do you want to do first?"

" How about we roll for it?"

Jungkook rolled a six and Taehyung rolled a four, so Jungkook got to choose. He laid back onto his bed frame and scratched his head.

" Mom said we have to go outside at least, like, once so... let's go out now. Do you have cash on you?"

Taehyung nodded and ruffled through his duffel bag to reveal his wallet.

" You can take pictures of me, this one time. You know, for the gram."

Jungkook smiled and Taehyung followed suit. They changed into more stylish fits, prepped their bags and headed out. These two loved fashion and photography so they would help each other's Instagram's out. They weren't as fashion conscious as their upperclassman friend, Jung Hoseok, but they were good looking when they wanted to be. During the more stressful part of the school year, Jungkook and he would wear sweatpants but grab their fellow student's attention. They hung out downtown, going through stores and taking pictures of themselves or one another. They slowly made their way out of the busy shopping plazas and into the lounging part of town then into the large park. They sat down on a bench and talked about everything that best friends talk about. Identity, existentialism, sexuality, society, etc. They kept on talking until they realized it was six pm. They had easily spent fourteen hours together but the two always needed more. Both of them stood up and walked back to Jungkook's house. Somehow they had stumbled across the topic of sexuality. Taehyung came out to Jungkook freshman year as gay and made him promise to tell no one unless he said so.

" Jungkook do you think if I would go to hell even if everything else I did was good? "

Taehyung stopped walking and looked at Jungkook, awaiting his response. Jungkook had taken five more steps until he realized that his BFF was no longer next to him. Turning around he smiled.

" Taehyung, I am pretty sure you're God's favorite child by now. I don't think you would ever go to hell. Also, you are too pretty to be down there."

" You think I'm pretty?"

" I think you're lots of things Taehyung."

Jungkook couldn't help but blush a bit with his blurted comment, but seeing Taehyung smile again made it worth it. Taehyung jogged up to were Jungkook was and grabbed his hand, giving it a quick squeeze.

" I think you got it backward Kookie. You are the cute and pretty one of us too."

Jungkook's face was red at this point and couldn't make eye contact with Taehyung. They made it back home before it was absolutely dark and changed back into more comfortable clothes so they could seriously play some games. Taehyung brought his gaming laptop and he and Jungkook played Overwatch, Rainbow 6 and a few other games together until they realized that it was dark outside.

They opted for a movie and brought some snacks with them onto the couch. Naturally, they watched some horror movies and tried to scare the crap out of each other time and time again. They took a break from it and watched some epic gamer youtube videos of Pewdiepie playing Minecraft and they were inspired to play too. Literally, five minutes in and Taehyung was running away from zombies the best he could because he forgot to make a crafting table.

" Minecraft is scarier than It. You heard it first here kids."

Jungkook who had been lucky enough to make a bed was laughing at the mess that Taehyung was throwing himself in. They played for another twenty minutes when Jungkook remember that they had an ouija board in the basement. They came up with the brilliant plan of going down to the basement and talk to a spirit through the ouija board. Grabbing flashlights because the lights sometimes didn't work, the put on jackets and made their merry way down the stairs to the " basement". The word basement brings the image of a dark, cold, gray image to mind but because Jungkook's family was rich, their " basement" had hard work floors, proper furniture, a large television, and other things like a bar and billiards. It was another family room when guests came but the lights were too faulty for them to use it like that all the time. They sat down next to the couch and opened it up, placing everything exactly where the instructions said to put them. Placing their hands onto the moving piece, they waited and hoped that something would move it. And at the same time, they wish nothing would happen.

Just as that thought crossed both of their minds, the piece began moving. It began spelling nonsense, no real words or sentences were formed but then they saw that words came into meaning. What was before was probably another language and now it was becoming understandable. At first it was things like " How are you." and " When is it." that quickly changed to threats of " I will kill you when you sleep." and " You can't hide.". This was starting to really freak out the two of them so they let go and the piece still kept moving. Spelling out more and more dangerous threats the lights that were on now was off and their flashlights refused to work.

Panic ensued and as they were trying to find each other in the dark they each felt something new in the room. A new presence. There was something or someone else in there with them. They were not prepared to deal with a problem like this. Sure Jungkook joked about bringing holy water, but now he felt like maybe bringing it would not have been such a bad idea at all. Then they appeared. Those eyes. Like two dangerous orbs floating in the dark, they stared at Jungkook and Taehyung. Then it spoke. It's voice husky and in pain bringing upon fear and even more panic on the two of them. There was no language that they could guess because it was probably one of the monster's own. They felt the steps being taken before them, bring that entity closer and closer. The lights quickly turned on and the monster that it revealed was not what the two of them were picturing. It was the body of an old man but it was so torn apart the only thing left intact was the face. The eye sockets empty but for the two orbs, glowing in the cavern. It was like there was another body growing from inside what was that man. Bones and other things were moving underneath the skin and sprouting out to become a new arm or wing.

Just as it was ready to swing its arm at Taehyung, something bright entered the room. It was a glorious kind of light that radiated warmth and joy. Because of this light both Jungkook and Taehyung had to look away because of how brilliant it was. There was a scream, a most terrible and hair raising scream that had erupted out of the creature. Taehyung had to cover his ears and try to muffle that noise but it didn't help. Then the normal room light turned back on and the gleaming on dimmed. Teahyung rubbed his eyes to see what had happened. To both of their surprise, there was another otherworldly creature standing there. With beautiful (H/C) hair and shining (E/C) eyes that met Taehyung's stare with a smile. There in the middle of Jungkooks basement stood a creature they have never seen before, even in their fantasy games. They numerous wings of gold and strewn around them precious gems and the holy crown with a float around it's head also was adorned with the same stones. The garment it was wearing was a sort of robe with different beautifully woven sheer fabrics around its arms and waist. Its feet were not even touching the floor, levitating above the ground making it look even more ethereal that it already was. The skin of the creature glowed from underneath, a radiant healthy glow of love and happiness. There were bracelets rings on both of the hands adorned in gold and more rare jewels. Their presence was so very there because of their beauty and because of the height of them. Making it from the floor to the ceiling.

"Little one you know better than to play games like these. You never know what could possess these things."

The creature moved towards Taehyung and pet his hair. The creature smiled some more before addressing the other human in the room. Jungkook jumped when he saw the creature looking at him.

" U-um, sir? What are you? Are you going to hurt us?"

Jungkook couldn't help but ask. Taehyung was just standing there jaw dropped staring at this being that had entered his home somehow.

" My name is (Y/N) and I am a guardian angel. I have been assigned Kim Taehyung as a protector for life. And you are Jung Jungguk naturally."

" You're an angel? Like that's all real? oh, my g-"

Jungkook looked up at the angel again and gulped, realising that he needed to sit down. (Y/N) sat them both down and explained what had happened to them. Their game, on of the incredibly rare few, was actually possessed by a medium-tier demon who had contaminated the spirit of an old man that wandered the woods a few miles from that house peacefully. The demon saw the game as a chance to drain them of their life force to gain more strength in the mortal realm. As (Y/N) explained to them the entire ordeal, neither could process what was happening. They were basically being revealed the truth about the universe and there was no way that they could ever believe anything else after today. Taehyung raised his hand.

" Yes, little one?"

" Did you save me from the car accident when I was younger!", Taehyung yelled. He wanted to come across as confident but he was too intimidated by his guardian angel to say anything.

" Yes, I did. Something I had to fight for the right to do, but don't fear, it's past us now."

" Does that mean that you will have to explain this to um.. the Big Guy?"

(Y/N) laughed. It was more like the sound of silver twinkling bells with the dainty clinking of falling gems. The sweet noise was melodic and soothing to their ears. Jungkook, who was drained in every level, flopped down onto his back trying to grasp what is going on.

" Yes, sort of. I do not assume my physical form often and I do not need to see him speak to him. I am from a plane of being where time and scientific laws do not apply to us."

Taehyung gaped at (Y/N). This was the person that had saved his life numerous time and kept him safe.

" Oh, I almost forgot! I need to leave soon. If there is anything you need to ask, ask now."

(Y/N) stood up and glided a few paces in front of the couch. Turning around he knew that Jungkook had a question.

" No, guardian angels do not watch every single second but take note of what you do. Especially...the sort of thing humans your age begin to do. We generally look away. And, Yes Jungkook you have one as well. He is very caring and takes care of you well."

(Y/N) reached a handout and cupped Taehyung's face. Taehyung smiled feeling the somehow familiar warmth of his face. (Y/N) leaned over and kissed Taehyung on the nose. Before letting go there is one more thing you should know little one before I go." he whispered. Taehyung nodded waiting for the answer." Your grandmother wants you to know that she loves you very very much and that she is incredibly proud of everything you have done. She wishes she could be with you and help you grow into the gentlemen you will become. " Taehyung couldn't help but cry. He and his grandmother had shared a special connection and this message meant too much to him to keep inside. He just nodded again.

" Goodbye to the both of you. And may the father, the son and the holy spirit always be with you."

And in a flurry of gold and light, the sound of air wooshing past feathers, and the crack of lightning...(Y/N) was gone. They turned to each other with wide eyes.

" You saw that two right? I wasn't hallucinating."

" Like the angel? and everything? I can't believe this!"

It took a while for it to settle in but they took no time at all getting rid of the game and swearing to never do anything like that again. They ran back up to Jungkook's room and played some games. The pair of friends temporarily forgot about the demon and the angel while playing video games. After eating dinner and sitting at Jungkook's bed, Jungkook noticed something.

" Hey, Taehyung you have something on your nose?"

" Huh? What is it?"

" It's a mole! Did you have a mole on your nose before?"

"No I don't have one but...(Y/N) kissed me on my nose."

" You're joking. You have an angel mark on your nose! Ha!"

" Shut up!"

The two boys went back to playing games and enjoying their vacation, but they never forgot the night in the basement where they met an angel that saved their lives.

MASTERLIST

[its-allaboutfanfic]

The art of flirting (Legolas x Reader)

This shot is based on  this imagine by @imaginexhobbit: 

>>Imagine Legolas trying to flirt with you, but not actually understanding the correct way to flirt, so it’s just an awkward mess and Aragorn has to intervene and tell you what Legolas is trying to say<<

This sounded really cute, so I gave it a shot, I hope y’all enjoy it xx. I had a lot of fun writing it, at any rate.

Word count: 1658

Warnings: again a lot of fluff and a pretty OOC Legolas. I guess it was unavoidable, but I gave my best. 

Tomorrow I’ll work on anon’s request *excited* you others: feel free to send me some too! (づ｡◕‿‿◕｡)づ

~*~

It hadn't been long since you, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli and Gandalf had arrived in Rohan, just to find King Théoden under a powerful spell of Saruman.

The evil wizard had bewitched his mind and had brought Théoden so far, that the poor man had not even been able to built an opinion on his own.

Luckily, Gandalf had managed to break the spell and free Théoden from Saruman's influence, for that the King now had gained his mind back  and could proplery grieve about the death of his son.

As a sign of his gratitude, Théoden had ordered a bankett for the five of you for tonight and right now, you were getting ready for it.

Éowyn had even borrowed you one of her beautiful (F/C) dresses, which suited you perfectly and made you look satisfied with yourself at your reflection in the mirror.

You also tried to braid some strands of your long (H/C) hair in an elvish kind of way, just because you liked it, even if this was at least what you tried to convince yourself of.

If you were complete honest, you only did it to impress Legolas.

You had found yourself staring at him dreamily more frequently and let's face it, the Elven prince was one hell of an eye candy with his slim but also muscular figure, silky hair and striking blue eyes. Even the way he was kicking ass was full of grace and if it were up to you, you could watch him doing that all day.

So you gave your best with the braids and when you eventually found that you couldn't do any better, you decided then that it was finally time for the bankett.

It looked like you were the last one of your friends, who had appeared to the feast and as you went to sit on the same table as them, they all gave you a friendly smile, well, except for Legolas.

The elf was grinning at you huge and brightly, so that if you’d wanted, you could've counted every single one of his 32 pearl white teeth.

But instead you smiled back cautiously, because even though you bet he meant it friendly, it nevertheless did look a bit like a scary grimace and he only stopped, when Aragorn nudged him with his elbow and hissed something, that didn't reach your ears.

Legolas so-called smile then immediately dropped and he gave Aragorn an answer, starting a conversation, so that you sat down beside of Gandalf without any other occasion. At least not yet.

The meal began and the wizard had just finished telling you a story about a brave hobbit, who had once faced a dragon only on hisself and survived it – in fact this hobbit was a relative of Frodo – as Legolas clearing his throat brought your attention back to the blonde elf.

You found him looking at you with a weird expression, his eyes were slightly narrowed and only one of his mouth angles was turned up into a smile, giving him a strange mischivous look, that you were not used from him.

„Um, is there something you wanted to say, Legolas...?“

„Your beauty is beyond words, (Y/N), if your mother would see you tonight, she'd be the proudest woman alive for that she gave birth to such loveliness.“

You choked on the water that you were trying to drink right before he talked,  as your cheeks went bright red.

You could've sworn, that you'd heard Aragron groan after Legolas said those words and Gandalf beside you tried to cover his amusement with coughs, while Gimli started to giggle.

What was going on with the prince? Was he making fun of you? You hoped not.

„Your hair looks as soft as the fur of the white Mearas horses and if any artist of this earth would catch a sight of your fineness, they'd fight against each other and wouldn't ever leave you alone for that they could draw your angelic features until eternity.“

Gimli's laughter was now resounded in the whole hall you and the other guests were dining in and you couldn't help but blush more and more with every word Legolas said.

He was looking at you with that weird grin throughout the whole time and as he openend his mouth again, probably to go on with his embarrassing declarations to you,  Aragorn quickly intervened and put a hand on his friend's shoulder.

„I think that's enough, that was not what I meant“, he murmured in Legolas' direction, leaving the elf looking at him questioningly and then turned to you, giving you an apologetic smile.

„I think what Legolas here was trying to say, is that you look beautiful tonight, (Y/N)  and he wanted to ask you, if you would maybe spare a few minutes of your time after dinner for him, because he'd like to talk to you about something.“

You hestitated a bit, still not sure what was going on, but after you looked in Legolas' now again normal but a bit red face and unfathomable eyes, you couldn't – not that you wanted - resist and slightly nodded.

„Of course I would.“

Until the feast ended, you weren't really able to focus or concentrate on your food or anything besides what was possibly going to happen after you'd finish your meal.

You tried to catch Legolas' gaze a few times, but after Aragorn had silently explained to him, that what he had said to you was more awkward than engaging, he had avoided you with his eyes since then.

But as soon as you dropped your fork, being finished with your food, he looked right up to you through his long, dark lashes.

„Shall we?“, the blonde elf asked and stood up as you did the same. „Yes“, you said, whilst your heart was pounding loudly in your ears.

He led you outside to a lonely bench, not far away from the others, but nevertheless hidden from their gaze by trees and shrubs.

You sat down and he sat beside you, as you heard him drawing in his breath loudly.

„(Y/N)-“

„Legolas-“, you both said simultaneously and then stopped and smiled shyly at each other.

„You go first“, you told him chuckling, causing him to join your laughter nervously, before he locked your gaze with his and started to talk.

„About earlier,“ he began, „Aragorn had told me to compliment you to express my feelings for you, but, as you surely noticed, it didn't work out so well for me.“

You giggled a bit at his words and he offered you a weak smile, before he continued.

„So I think it would be best, if I'd just do it my way“, while he was talking, he took both of your hands in his, causing you to blush as you lost yourself in his gaze, that now turned soft as he noticed the color in your cheek and all you could see in his astonishing eyes, that were as blue and clear as a cloudless spring sky, were honesty and devotion.

„I love you, (Y/N) and there a more than a thousand ways of how I could circumscribe my feelings for you. For example there is this light, that always seems to surround you, which draws me to you like the sea to the moon. Or your determination to stand in for what is right to you, is something I learned to admire. Or how I had always thought that the sound of a violine was my favorite, but only because I hadn't heard the sound of your laugh since then“, he paused and you just stared at him in awe, not sure if your ears were deceiving you.

„There was a time in my life, (Y/N), where my being had no true purpose and I didn't have an aim that I could work or train for, but then you appeared,“ he cupped your cheek with one hand, „and I suddenly started to curse myself for my urge to sleep, for that I didn't and still don't want to miss any possible second, that I could spend with you. I love you and I hope you feel the same way for me.“

You had listened to his words, that sounded like music to your ears, without interrupting him once and only as Legolas tenderly wished your tears away with his thumb, you noticed that you were crying.

„Don't cry, mela en' coiamin“, he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

You closed your eyes, then opened them as you took his hand from your cheek and kissed it, smiling at him through teary eyes.

„Don't you ever change yourself for me again, Legolas, because I love you just the way you are. Your words were more than I had ever dared myself to dream for and I'll try to prove myself worthy for them as long as you allow me to.“

The smile Legolas gave you after your words wasn't the one from earlier at the bankett, where he had tried too much and wasn't really meaning it. This one right now was filled with honest joy and lit up every corner of your heart.

He moved forward, cupped your face and kissed you passionately, carrying you away with his pure happiness and love.

His soft mouth caressed yours, his tongue slightly licking along your bottom lip, making you allowing him entrance into your mouth.

As your lips parted, he brought his forehead to yours, both of you still panting for breath.

„That means you'll have to stay by my side until the very end“, he stated.

„There is no way I'd rather spend my life until then“, you smiled, diving in to press your lips on his once more.

/////////////////////////////////

mela en' coiamin = love of my life

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