#how can anyone claim this is a good and normal matchmaking?

[sotwk]

Happy birthday! ♥️ And thanks for using your special day as a jumping off point to engage with the fandom and do some cool activities!

I debated this back and forth for a while, but for your OC matchmaker game: Eadlin! You can take that however you’d like — who she would be with if she had never met Théodred, or who she might end up with some day once she’s had a chance to pick up the pieces of her life after he died (he wouldn’t have wanted her to be alone forever!).

I know you’re already familiar with her, but by the terms of the exercise here’s her quick summary:

—She was about 40 at the time of the War of the Ring.

—She came from a modest family and worked as a merchant for most of her life, so she’s not fussy or afraid of hard work.

—Her trade was flowers because she had a deep appreciation for things of beauty and, especially, things from the natural world.

—She was a person of strong opinions and wasn’t shy about sharing them. If she loved you, she’d move the earth to help you. If you got on her bad side, she could hold a serious grudge.

—Perhaps by virtue of her age, she was done with worrying about what other people thought. So she was a little unconventional and willing to challenge social norms because she didn’t care if that set tongues wagging.

I don’t normally have detailed face claims for my OCs, but when I imagine her for myself, she always looks like Laura Dern.

OMG OMG You know how much I adore and admire Eadlin! She is so perfectly matched to Theodred, but she is such a wonderful lady that anyone in the kingdoms would be lucky to have her.

Her strength and humility definitely call into mind a specific and worthy candidate for her partner though...

With that in mind, the SotWK Matchmaking Machine pairs Eadlin with:

Prince Arvellas Thranduilion (SotWK OC)

Yes, this may involve another difficult interracial (interspecies?) pairing, but if anyone can handle the emotional toll, it would be these two quietly strong-hearted and sensible characters. Arvellas would love that Eadlin has opinions of her own, and is the type of husband who would honor his wife by seeking her counsel and keeping her involved in his royal duties. They would work hard side-by-side and do so much good for their people! As for her love of flowers and nature--well, she would definitely enjoy being a Princess of Eryn Galen. ;)

Thank you for trusting me to match up your OC! :)

This OC Matchmaking game is part of SotWK's Summer Campfire Sleepover 2024. (Requests accepted only on July 11-15, 2024.)

[enemyoflactose]

Since I know you ship it too (at least a little bit), can I please have a Duke x Ryou Minorshipping fic? Since you want a specific prompt, I'll give you this one: mutual pining, but only their mutual friend realizes (you get to pick who that is), and they have to talk one or both of them into confessing.

Hey. It's done . I tried to be funny and silly.

CW: Gen Z slang

This was getting ridiculous. And kind of uncomfortable. For about a year, poor Joey has had to bear the brunt of his buddies' embarrassing behavior. Sure, he and Yugi had occasionally play-flirted, but they weren’t actually in love, unlike Duke and Ryou so obviously were.

Like, C’mon! Everytime those two were in the same room, it would never start off weird. FIrst, they’d gravitate over to each other, then Duke would sling his arm around Ryou’s shoulder or waist, then they’d get so close to the other’s face that their noses were touching!

And the way they would compliment each other… it just could not be called friendly! Friends do not rub gentle circles on each other's hips and say none stop how hot they are! Sure, compliments are normal, but the touching? The sheer intimacy?

It wouldn’t be too weird if they were actually dating, but for some reason Ryou has decided that he wasn’t in love with Duke, and Duke got it in his head that Ryou was straight!

…How does anyone come to that conclusion? Ryou being in denial? Sure. Fine. He’s always said he doesn’t know anything about romance or really what having a crush on someone felt like, but Duke thinking Ryou wasn’t attracted to men? NO EXCUSE!!

Ryou has literally run his hands up Duke’s chest and linked his arms around his neck multiple times. Even ignoring any of Ryou’s clear rizzing attempts, HE HAS SAID THAT HE LIKES MEN. IN FRONT OF DUKE.

So now, because his buds were STUPID!!!! Joey had to watch them continue to blatantly flirt, touch each other, and then go comfort Duke because he thinks, INCORRECTLY, that Ryou would never be attracted to him. Ever. Because he’s straight.

At least Ryou doesn’t whine to him. He just sputters and blushes and denies his feelings, which is so much cuter than Duke’s crying.

Today, however, was Joey Wheeler’s last straw. He has finally had enough. Right in front of him, at the picnic table that he and the rest of his friends ate lunch at, Duke was leaning over to Ryou and affectionately teasing him. Like always. Poking his cheek, telling him how much prettier he is compared to every girl at their school, no, the entire world, and rubbing his shoulder.

It was time. MATCHMAKER JOEY WHEELER IS IN THE BUILDING!! Or… at the table.

He swallowed the last bit of his yakisoba-pan, and pointed directly at his disgustingly flirty friends, “I’VE HAD ENOUGH OF YOU TWO!” he shouted, he probably shouldn’t have though because people started staring, but who cares about that? Joey slammed his hands on the table, “You two have been riding each otha’s dick for way too long! So I ain’t gonna stop buggin ya until ya both admit that yous in love!”

Silence. Complete silence met that claim, and shortly after, a very red faced set of love birds did as well.

“W-w-what are y-y-you talking about?” Ryou stammered, his mouth was quirked into a very awkward lopsided smile and his eyes kept shifting from Joey, to Duke, to the table, “I-i-i-i’ve already told you that-”

“I KNOW YA LYING!” He stood up, but Yugi quickly grabbed him and made him sit back down, “I know you’re lyin to yaself, we ALL know you’re lyin.”

Ryou looked down at his lap, clearly very embarrassed, Joey even felt a little bad. But this was for the good of everyone! Especially them!

Joey then turned his attention to Duke. His face was buried in his hands, but from the pink tint his ears had, Joey could tell he was also just as embarrassed as Ryou.

“AND YOU,” Duke looked up, horrified, “WHERE DIDJA GET DAT RYOU WAS STRAIGHT? WHERE? WHO LIED TO YOU?”

The people around them had begun to whisper and some of them quickly walked away from the situation. Yugi and Téa had started their own separate conversation, and Tristan legit just left.

Ryou lifted his head, and was now giving Duke a very judgemental look. His face was still red, and it honestly made the situation even more comical. Duke was giving him a nervous smile.

Joey’s onslaught continued, but a little quieter, “Can you both just admit you like each other so that the rest of us normal people don’t have to listen to anymore of ya glazing? I almost died of cringe yesterday watching Ryou try and rizz ya up Duke.”

The two were still silent, embarrassed, and frankly, humiliated, but they nodded anyway and left the table.

Joey wiped the sweat off his brow, “Doze two betta thank me when dey get back from freaky town.”

Téa punched him. Hard.

[sophieakatz]

Thursday Thoughts: Isn’t That Normal?

It’s Aro Week, so I’ve been talking about my aromantic identity on TikTok more often than usual. As a greyromantic person, I rarely experience romantic attraction, and in my case, there aren’t any specific conditions that lead to me having a crush on someone. I normally don’t, but sometimes, I do. It’s inconsistent, but it’s how I am.

Today, someone commented on one of my videos with a question: “How is that different from the norm?”

I’ve been asked this question before, and similar ones. “Why do you need a word for something like that?” “Isn’t that just how everyone is?” “Isn’t that normal?”

Well, it’s normal for me, certainly. But it isn’t “the norm,” or the way that our society expects people to be. The norm is for people to regularly experience romantic attraction to other people. Aromanticism is experiencing little to no romantic attraction – infrequently, if at all.

So many things in the world are based on the assumption that everyone is alloromantic, or regularly experiences romantic attraction. The romance genre is massively popular, with hundreds if not thousands of books, movies, and series created each year. New dating apps and matchmaking websites are constantly popping up. Every store is covered in red and pink hearts in the weeks leading up to Valentine’s Day, and year-round, so many ads for beer or clothes or even cars feature an implication of “use this product and you will get a date.” Getting married – tying a romantic relationship to a legal agreement – gives you tax benefits. You can get baby onesies with the words “ladies’ man” on them, parents often refer to their toddler’s friend as their “crush,” and it’s common for public school dances to officially encourage bringing a date. In middle school, my classmates never believed me when I told them I didn’t have a crush on anyone. It didn’t fit their worldview. Aromanticism wasn’t, and still isn’t, the norm.

That said – given that we live in such a romance-focused society, it’s interesting how common it is for people to hear about aromanticism and think, “Isn’t that just how everyone is?”

We all go through life in the first-person. We can only truly know our own feelings, our own experiences. What we each experience is our own “normal,” and humans are very good at assuming that “what is normal for me” is also “what is normal for everyone.” The more you like a movie, the harder it is to understand how anyone could possibly hate that movie. The more you know about world history, the harder it is to understand that other people might not know the same world history facts.

A key part of growing up is understanding that other people are not the same as you. We have things in common; we can connect, empathize, and build relationships with each other. But we are not all the same.

When I was in middle school, and my classmates had a new crush every week, and thought that celebrities were oh so unbelievably hot, and burst into tears when the person they liked broke their heart (but still wanted to get together with them, despite how mean they were!)… for a long time, I assumed that they were exaggerating, if not outright lying. I thought that they couldn’t possibly be feeling all the things that they claimed to be feeling, because I did not feel those things, or feel them in the same way that they felt them. It was not normal for me, so I assumed that it must not be normal for other people.

But I realized, eventually, that it was pretty self-centered of me to assume that everyone – my classmates, the grown-ups, the celebrities, the book and movie writers and everyone else – was not telling the truth about their experience. Why should what’s normal for me be what’s normal for everyone? When people describe their experience to me, I believe them. If their experience is different from mine, I believe them. If their experience is the same as mine, I not only believe them – I know that I have found someone who belongs in my community.

So, if you watch one of my TikToks or read one of my blog posts where I say, “I rarely experience romantic attraction,” and your gut reaction is to ask, “Isn’t that normal?” – I encourage you to think a little harder about why that’s your question. Because this is normal for me. It might also be normal for you. But it’s not normal for everyone.

I don’t want to make any assumptions about the way you experience the world. You never have to take on an identity label if you don’t think that it applies to you or if you don’t feel that it helps you. But a lot of people regularly and frequently experience romantic attraction. Many people, myself included, do not.

[thefirstknife]

I don't get the players who hate fun, who just want the game to be for hardcore players only. It's fun running stuff like waveform GL in Momentum Control or whatever silly loadout you have instead of grinding godroll meta gear and turning the game into your full-time job just to practice enough to hold your own. Having fun with it is most important, I think. Win or lose should be fun! Obviously we all want to win, nobody goes into a match hoping to lose. But we should be able to have fun with the skills we have and the gear we like (especially if you don't HAVE godroll meta gear) and have a good time no matter the outcome. Can't do that if you're always matched with hardcore super tryhard players way above your skills.

Agreed. A lot of them are complaining how Control shouldn't be locked behind skill because it's not a serious game mode, "it's just quick play."

But like. I can't enjoy this non-serious mode if I can't leave spawn. I am not asking for skill based matchmaking so I can pretend that I am playing seriously, I just want to be able to play and have fun. Which I can't do if there's a 300x gilded Flawless gilded Unbroken 3-stack farming me with their god roll meta weapons and quick swapping. I want to load in and feel like I've played the game. In way too many games before SBMM, I was legit just stuck in a respawn-walk two steps-die-respawn loop until we got mercy'd and I could load into another match. Thoroughly unfun experience and a waste of my time. Equally unfun if I'm doing that to the enemy team.

[anxiouslyfred]

Virgil Cooks

for @dukexietyweek prompt Food

Summary: Virgil cooks and Remus asks to be cooked for

/\/\

Virgil cooks.

That's really all there is to it. Virgil cooks for himself, for his friends, for just about anyone really.

He cooks.

Now you'd be mistaken if you thought that Virgil believed he's good at cooking or that he ever believed any compliments he received. In fact the only person who wouldn't get immediately shut down when praising the things Virgil cooked was Remus and that because he, like pretty much everyone, saw Remus eating things straight from the bin, or food abandoned on picnic tables. It was nice for him to hear that at the very least his food was better than rubbish.

It didn't mean he expected to have Remus come over asking for food and claiming it was the only thing palatable to him.

“Seriously my food isn't that good.” Virgil half scowled, letting Remus in regardless and heading into the kitchen.

Remus made a protesting noise before replying, “Better than the places Roman's been dragging me to.”

Digging through the cupboards for something quick to cook, he glanced over his shoulder. “I could swear you don't lie so what game are you playing?” Virgil asked.

“I'm playing I want good food so am asking the best cook I know for it.” Remus had perched on a counter, legs swinging and hands tapping as if holding cutlery and hurrying food along.

“Sounds fake. I don't think Roman's been taking you to dumps, has he?” He scowled a little, mentally checking he would need that counter space for the dish he'd decided to cook.

Remus waved one hand. “Nah. Uppity places that would be scandalised if a decent portion was put on a plate.”

He nodded at that, well aware of the minimal portions posh restaurants provided to try and get more money spent at them. “Okay I can believe you hate posh food but there's infinitely better cooks than me even in our friends.”

“There isn't and I'm feeling half starved so please cook while arguing with the compliments cause I ain't taking them back.” Remus immediately argued, acting as if it wasn't clear Virgil was already cooking from the ingredients he'd pulled out and the pots he was now looking for.

“How about instead of compliments that sound entirely exaggerated, you tell me just how you've convinced Ro to stop domesticating you for the post world?” Virgil suggested.

Remus took that option willingly, but still included some complimentary comparisons to Virgil's food in the stories. He was fairly sure they were stories, given a riot breaking out in any high end restaurant would definitely make the news. So would someone releasing rats into any restaurant which Remus would probably have had to escape the police for doing as well.

“And then Ro was angry and demanding to know why he couldn't just have a nice meal out with his brother and I said that you're a better dinner date and a better cook than he or any of the chefs in the shmancy places. So now Prissy is all upset because he wants to matchmake for us but I said I can do the charming on my own.” Remus was saying as Virgil served up the finished meal, very nearly spilling it.

“Rewind, actually rewind and freeze! I'm no chef and nobody likes me like that, so what the hell are you thinking saying any of that bullshit to your brother? You know he gets stars in his eyes at any suggestion of a crush unless concerned that he might be experiencing one.” He snapped, slamming the pot back onto the side and whirling to glare at Remus.

Remus blinked for a moment before snickering. “I can be nobody if you want me to be. I like you, wanna date you, so if that makes me nobody then I can do that! Besides!” Remus jumped up, grabbing both plates and cutlery that had been placed next to it up to go through to the table. “This is basically a dinner date already. Just need to throw in kissing, maybe some touching or cuddling, and it'll be a perfect one.”

“Normally people just ask for a date, not beg to be cooked for as if having been starved all week.” Virgil grumbled, carefully not agreeing or disagreeing to anything. He wasn't sure what reaction either would have given how unpredictable Remus was about everything else.

“Then you get nervous and lash out, tearing down anything you might like about a person and turning it into an insult.” Remus stated, reminding Virgil of the few times he'd been asked out in public and blew the chance because getting flustered made him want to fight the cause.

As they sat down and Remus finally returned the meal Virgil had dished for himself to him, he finally figured out what he'd prefer. “We can treat this as a practice date. If it goes to hell or I screw something up, You have to promise nothing will change between us and our friendship stays as it is.”

“I promise I will only fall in love with you more if things get exciting tonight, even if you view it as mistakes.” Remus quoted instead.

A roll of Virgil's eyes was all the reply given for a few moments as they began to eat.

At the end of the night, Virgil found himself agreeing to another date, and wondering how, when he's the one who cooks, Remus was the one who managed to prove that food is the way to a person's heart.

[poetrusicperry]

A Meddling Friend

charlie dalton one shot

word count: 2,380

warnings: none

notes: soooo i wrote a matchmaker!charlie one shot because i felt like it heh (also there is no way charlie isn’t the best matchmaker around tbh)... here it is (: 

A Meddling Friend

When Charlie “Nuwanda” Dalton set out to do something, hardly anything could stand in his way. A meddler by plain terms, Charlie butted his way into any situation, whether he saw a benefit in it for himself or for others. Oftentimes, Charlie’s triumphs would stem from wanting to succeed. In what? The possibilities were endless. He had once convinced his entire chemistry class to fudge their hardest experiment of the year (“Look, the teacher can’t possibly fail all of us; a failure on all of us means gigantic failure on him,” he’d said pointedly), he’d tricked his younger sister into begging their parents for a dog, despite her allergies (when asked about why he didn’t just ask his parents for a dog, he claimed they were much more inclined to appease his sister), and he’d smooth-talked his way into a date to the Ridgeway Junior Prom at a diner in town on a dare (“Now I have a hot date and five bucks from all of you”). His successes were plentiful, and there was no end in sight.

So when Charlie had endured months of secret glances between his best friend, Neil, and Neil’s roommate, Todd (not to mention the awkward, weighted silences and painfully obvious unsaid words), Charlie decided to do what he did best: meddle.

The leaves were in their adolescence on the trees; varying shades of orange and red made campus seem ablaze. Charlie would find himself, on multiple occasions, staring out the window when he was supposed to be paying attention in class. Today was no different– the leaves were beckoning, and Charlie’s eyes sat fixed upon them until he heard his name being called from the front of the room,

“Mr. Dalton?” being at the back of the room, everyone turned in their desks to look at Charlie.

“Yes, sir?” he replied, unfazed. Dr. Hager had begun to go into detail about the question he had just asked Charlie, but Charlie’s gaze was, again, caught. This time, by Todd, who was the only person not looking at Charlie; Todd was looking at Neil. Charlie hadn’t heard a word his teacher had said, more focused on the fact that Todd was gawking at Neil and Neil didn’t even seem to notice. Rolling his eyes at Charlie, Richard Cameron (Charlie’s roommate), raised his hand to answer the question Dr. Hager asked.

“That’s a demerit, Mr. Dalton,” Dr. Hager deadpanned before calling on Cameron. After everyone had turned back around to face the front of the room, Charlie sat forward in his seat, watching Todd, who was still looking at Neil. Upon dropping his pencil, Neil bent to pick it up, locking eyes with Todd on his way back to sitting normally. A smirk played on Charlie’s face when Todd’s face flushed as he turned back toward the front. And Charlie couldn’t help but notice that Neil’s cheeks had also turned slightly cherry-colored as his eyes darted back to his notes. Charlie sat smugly back into his chair and began to hatch a scheme in his head. If he could just get them to admit their feelings for each other, the world would be a better place.

A few weeks prior to the day, Charlie had caught Neil drawing a heart around Todd’s name in the margins of a trig textbook. A few days before that, Todd had read an original poem out loud in their English class that was so clearly about Neil it was painful (“Richest coffee eyes / That paint the stage wonderful”).

Charlie didn’t dare bring up the subject with any of his other friends, but once alone with Neil after Chemistry, he began to work his magic.

“What’s bugging you?” he asked Neil, nudging him slightly as they walked down the hallway.

“What?” Neil returned, confused.

“You dropped your pencil during chem. I’ve never seen you do that. So that either means you were distracted by something, or you were falling asleep, which means you haven’t been sleeping well because you’re stressed out. Which is it?” Charlie prodded, looking at his friend as they continued down the hall, “Come onnnnn, Perry,” he goaded, elbowing Neil, who sighed in exasperation.

“It’s nothing, Charlie,” Neil groaned, adjusting his books in his arms and casting a nervous look at Charlie.

“Lie to anyone else, Neil. Anyone else but me. It’s just embarrassing at this point,” Charlie smirked, “And offensive.”

“It’s just… the play. It’s hard to memorize without help,” Neil sighed before turning to Charlie, “You could help? Do you want to help me, Charlie?” Neil said excitedly. Bingo, Charlie thought.

“I’d really love to, Neil, but I’ve got some Latin stuff with Meeks for the next few days,” Neil sighed, “I do, however, know someone who can help you,” Charlie finished, pleased with himself.

“Who is it?” Neil cocked an eyebrow.

“I don’t know if you know him, but I’ll just tell him to meet you somewhere tomorrow? What time?”

“How do I know this guy isn’t crazy?”

“Again, I’m hurt. You don’t trust me to put you into good hands?” Or Todd’s hands, Charlie thought, laughing to himself.

“Of course I trust you, Charlie, it’s just… I don’t know, I’m stressed out, and my father is all over me, I just need some help. If you know someone who can help, I’m more than willing to accept. I don’t mean anything bad by my reactions, I promise.”

“I know you, don’t, Neil,” Charlie clapped Neil on the back, “At the dock, tomorrow at 4. He’ll be there,” he looked at Neil, “Everything’s going to be okay. I promise,” Charlie smiled as they made their way onto the landing of the boys’ floor.

After parting ways with his friend, Charlie bursted the door to his own room open, startling Cameron, who was sitting at his desk studying.

“Jesus, Dalton, you scared me half to death,” Cameron clutched his chest.

“Sorry, darlin’,” Charlie smirked, jumping into bed (with his shoes still on). He turned onto his back and put his hands behind his head, crossing his outstretched legs.

“Can you look at this trig, see if it makes sense?” Cameron asked, holding his textbook up to Charlie.

“At any other time, any other day, and in any other circumstance, I totally would, but I have some things to plan. Sorry, Cameron,” Charlie shrugged, closing his eyes.

“Come on, Charlie. I rarely ask you for help, and the one time I do, you won’t do it?” Cameron groaned. He opened one eye at the redhead across the room.

“Trust me when I tell you, the thing I’m planning is a lot more important than trig,” Charlie shot Cameron a knowing look, then closed his eye again, beginning to visualize and scheme as his roommate huffed a sigh and turned back around to his desk.

The following day brought giddiness for Charlie; he’d gotten Neil committed to going down to the docks, now he just needed to get Todd alone. The only thing Charlie was still figuring out was how. Todd was the biggest introvert Charlie knew.

Charlie’s proclivity for picking up on the ins and outs of his best friend had led to having more insight into Todd as well. Todd Anderson was new to Welton this past fall. And he was Neil’s roommate, so by association Todd had slowly, but surely (and slightly excruciatingly) joined Neil and Charlie’s friend group. He mostly listened and watched, but always sat near (although not too near) Neil when they were hanging out.

Since they were kids, Neil had always been personable; every new thing he learned about a person, would be spun in a positive way, even if the trait was inherently “bad.” He and Charlie would spend hours talking about people, but not in the “let’s gossip” kind of way– they both found a lot of intrigue in the general population. Even as children they were constantly surveying their peers in a way normal children wouldn’t. When Neil had met Todd, it was no different; he would go on about his sandy-haired roommate for ten minutes straight without taking a breath. Why Todd had transferred schools, where his family is from, what kinds of activities he liked. Charlie found the answers to these questions interesting, but perhaps nothing was more intriguing to him than the fact that Todd had willingly shared all this information with Neil. From what Charlie had experienced, Todd was not a talker, and would rather sit in a painful silence for hours on end than open up to the friend group or start a conversation… but he was doing so with Neil. Granted, Neil asked a lot of questions, but Todd seemed comfortable enough around him to share. That was the first thing Charlie noticed between the two of them, and the catalyst that had sparked Charlie’s master plan of getting them together.

After breakfast, which entailed a small conversation about Playboy models, gross scrambled eggs, and of course, a silent Todd, Charlie hung back to catch the boy before he slipped away to the dorms before class.

“Hey, Anderson!” Charlie called, jogging after him. Todd looked as if he’d seen a ghost.

“H-hey Charlie, what’s up?”

“Listen, I was wondering if you could do me a favor?”

“Um, s-sure?”

“I’m meant to help out one of my friends with his poem later, but I have Latin tutoring with Meeks, and I figured since you’re so good at it, you could meet with my friend to help him out?”

“I… I don’t know, Charlie,” Todd knitted his eyebrows at the idea of meeting and talking to who he thought was a perfect stranger.

“It’d really mean a lot, Todd,” Charlie pulled his most innocent face and looked at the boy in front of him. Todd was quiet still, “Listen, if you really don’t want to, it’s no sweat. I just figured I’d ask you since you’re so good at writing,” Charlie smiled small, not wanting to push Todd that far.

“I… um, no I-I”ll do it. Where?”

“Ah, Todd you’re a lifesaver! It’s 4p.m. at the dock. You’re sure you want to?”

“Yeah, just… tell your friend I’ll be there,”

“I will, thank you!” Charlie called, backing away from Todd and turning away to head to class. I won’t be telling anyone a thing, Charlie grinned to himself, feeling pleased.

When the clock read 3:56, Neil began to get nervous. No one had shown up. Was Charlie pulling his leg? I’ll give them five more minutes, Neil thought, sitting criss cross on the dock and twiddling his shoelace between his fingers. His “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” script sat on his lap, frayed edges and all.

4:04, Neil sighed, looking at his watch. Just as he was calling it curtains for Charlie’s friend, Todd, flush-faced and sweaty, was making his way over to him. He was looking down at his shoes, careful not to stumble,

“H-hi, sorry I’m late, I got stuck in the dining hall behind–” he looked up to see a confused Neil. Neil’s disorientation spread to Todd’s features, “Neil?” he whipped his head around both ways to make sure someone else wasn’t coming.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” Neil stood up from the dock, dusting off his pants and clutching his script apprehensively.

“I… um, I’m supposed to meet… Charlie’s friend… he needs help with–” Todd trailed off, looking at Neil quizzically– “Wait, w-what are you doing here?”

“I’m… supposed to meet Charlie’s friend… he’s supposed to help me rehearse lines…?” Neil’s voice upticked at the end of the sentence, confusion prevalent between the two of them.

“Wait, you’re supposed to meet Charlie’s friend, a-and I’m supposed to m-meet Charlie’s friend, too?” Todd shook his head, unbelieving. Neil’s face changed on a dime, a green light going off over his head.

He smiled slightly and huffed a laugh, “I think we’ve been made, Todd,”

“What? What do you mean?”

“I think we’re meeting… exactly who we’re supposed to be meeting,” Neil blushed, looking at Todd, whose cheeks were rosy from rushing over to the dock (and probably at the situation, too).

“We’re… you’re the friend that needs help with poetry?”

“Todd, I think Charlie meant to get us here alone…” Neil looked to Todd, fidgeting even more with his script.

“W-well why would h-he do that…?” Todd chewed his bottom lip. Neil shut his eyes, almost as if the next thing out of his mouth would cause endless pain. He breathed an unsure sigh,

“Because,” he swallowed thickly, looking at Todd, “Charlie knows I have the biggest crush on you, and this was his way of making me make a move,” Neil’s cheeks were a deep crimson.

“You have a-a crush o-on me?” Todd gestured to himself, bewildered. Neil grimaced and nodded, squeezing the script tighter than before, averting his eyes, “Oh…” Todd’s eyes widened slightly as he looked around them once again, “I… are you sure?” Neil sighed again and sat back down on the dock.

“Yep,” he looked at his hands, the script clutched tightly between them, “I’m sure,” he sounded tired all of sudden. Todd stayed frozen for a few seconds before he trudged over to Neil’s slumped body and sat down carefully beside him.

“I guess Charlie’s g-good at this thing, then,” he laughed incredibly lightly.

“What do you mean, why?” Neil cast a glance up at Todd before looking away again.

“I don’t know… b-because I like you, too,” Todd mumbled.

“What?” Neil looked at him again, not daring to turn away this time.

“I like you… t-too,” Todd’s volume stayed the same. Neil raised his eyebrows, his eyes searching Todd’s.

“Really? This isn’t some prank that Charlie is pulling? You’re being serious?” Neil interrogated, his hands still wrapped around his script. Todd just nodded, earning a huge grin from Neil. Silence fell over the pair and their newly learned information, but when Todd spoke, his conviction surprised even himself.

“So can I help you read lines?” Neil’s smile was vibrant.

“I think I’d love nothing more.”

Charlie watched from his dorm window, smiling as the two boys sat down to read lines. He climbed down off of the windowsill and dusted his hands off, another victory in the books.

[thorns-and-rosewings]

Aaaand continuing with my Owl House/ Gargoyles AU information dump... Here is Part 2 for anyone interested.

------Emperor Belos....

1. Belos is also a Gargoyle, but nobody is aware of this aside from Kikimora and the Golden Guard. He wears a pair of large mechanical, prosthetic wings to replace his real ones that were hacked off long ago by his former clan leader.

2. In the past Belos was his clans outcast, having been ignored and avoided by virtually everyone his whole life due in no small part that he had an interest in magic but was abnormally bad at it, and for that he began trying to find alternative means of wielding it. Not to mention he claimed to converse with the dead Titan... Something no one believed at the time. He was paired up by the clans 'matchmaker' when he didn't choose a mate on his own. He and his 'mate' became very tentative friends at best but there was no real love between them. They parented an egg that was placed in the clans rookery.

3. His real wings were hacked off with an axe by his former clan leader after he was cursed... As it had been an old belief that Gargoyles with feathered wings were bound to bring bad luck. He was exiled by being pushed off the mountain the clan lived atop after his wings were severed. His wings were later burned on a pyre as an offering to the Titan.

4. He survived because Kikimora found him and decided to help the pathetic and mutilated creature... And frankly he looked to be in such poor health that eating him was probably not a good idea.

5. He lived with Kiki for some time before the mountainside his former clan controlled was lit on fire by witches who looted and destroyed his old home and killed off the clan. He returned only out of morbid curiosity and found that the had not even spared the eggs in the rookery and crushed most of them. But one singular egg survived although it was damaged. He took this egg with him.

6. Shortly afterwards he began his campaign and eventually took over the Boiling Isles. He is... honestly shocked nobody has figured out that he's a Gargoyle at this point. As he didn't hide it originally. Nowadays he keeps it more of a secret... But still, shouldn't the wings be a give away? This is one of the main reasons why he thinks most of the population of the Isles are complete fools.

7. Doesn't sleep as often as he should, sometimes being up for days at a time... So he might doze off during meetings. No one has caught on yet.

8. The man has terrible social skills.

9. Honestly thinks what he is doing is the right thing. He remembers how bad things were before, remembers how the Savage Ages lived up to the name. He knows his rule is harsh and often doesn't seem fair. But it's a blessing compared to what it used to be.

------Golden Guard...

1. Was the only surviving egg in Belos's old clans rookery. He was actually born late due to the damage his egg received early on in his development. The damage further manifested as he was born with only one wing and thus unable to fly. His other wing however was feathered, just like Belos's had been when he had actually had wings. Thus he is not only the Emperor's rookery son, but his biological one as well.

2. Actually had a pretty good childhood. He was given lots of attention and love from his father and the two had a good relationship. But he never truly learned how to interact with other people so his social skills are a C- at best. Only slightly better than his fathers. Still he doesn't have any real friends...

3. Called Kikimora Auntie Kiki all throughout his youth and occasionally slips up and still calls her that even now.

4. Received the nick in his ear and scar on his cheek from one of his fathers cursed rampages. It was not something Belos did delibrately or out of rage... But it was no less traumatizing.

5. Messing with Lilith was FUN

6. In spite of a seemingly carefree attitude, this kid is the master of putting pressure on himself. Wanting to not only please his father but free him from his curse before it completely consumes him.

-----Kikimora...

1. Make no mistake, she has seen it all and there's nothing left that can surprise her at this point.

2. Has made it her mission in life to take care of Belos and Goldie and she is completely certain, ever since the day she watched the overly exhausted emperor take a long drink of oil he normally used on his staff, that without her both of these socially inept creatures would die...

3. She has been with Belos since the beginning and is the only person aside from Goldie he truly trusts. That being said she is also the only person who can command him to do things, or reprimand him for his actions...

4. She is fiercely protective of the father and son duo.

5. Due to her being one of only two people aware of Belos true nature as a Gargoyle, she is also the only one who can properly help him when the phantom pains begin to flare up in what's left of the traumatized remains of his wings. Also making sure his prosthetics do not open the sealed wounds or bring about any infection.

6. Has a strange immunity to alcohol. Can intake unholy amounts of the stuff and never get drunk. Has on a few occasions drank with other members of the Emperor's Coven... But only with the intention of gaining amusing tidbits of blackmail to use against them later.

7. She will admit to having never really dealt with Gargoyles prior to meeting Belos, but after the long years of getting to know him and his son she has determined something...... They have the temperaments of cats...

8. Is scarily strong with both her magic and her physical strength and she can uppercut an opponent with enough force to shame a fatality in Mortal Kombat.

[vampiregirl1797]

Long Time, Time to See

Jasper Hale x Reader

 GIF Not Mine

 Warnings: a little fluffy, not my fluffiest.

 Word Count: 6,556

 Click Here For Masterlist

 Summary: Y/N is a vampire that the Olympic Coven first crossed paths with after Carlisle created Rosalie. Intrigued by their choice to live by the same lifestyle choice, she stuck around for a decade, but eventually left to do some travelling on her own. Of course, she dropped in on them over the years, and over the visits a bond was formed between her and the Cullen’s—she came to see them as family. Despite her intense love for all five of them, she was closest with Edward, though she didn’t see him as family. Edward became best friend to her—though both agreed that term was pathetic in fully describing the connection they shared. While they were platonic for the most part, neither had qualms against satisfying their needs when the instinct arose, and it worked well for them because neither attempted to make it something more than it was. It’s been a while since she’s paid the coven a visit, so long in fact that she is unaware that the coven has two new members. How will she and a certain blonde vampire react when they discover that they’re mates?

 I didn’t realise how long it had been until I really stopped and thought about the last time I’d seen them. Time moves so quickly when you become a vampire that you just get used to it, it becomes meaningless because it has no affect on you—you don’t age, your friends don’t age, so what’s the point in keeping track? You have all the time in the world to see whatever you wish to see, and if your friends and family are also immortal then the same principle applies. Fifty years could pass since you’ve seen the coven you call family and it can feel like it’s only been a week.

 And it did. It only felt like a month ago when I was last with Carlisle, Esme, Rosalie, Emmett and Edward. It had been just after Rose had bought the curly haired boy to the blonde vampire, begging for him to be turned into one of us. I’d stayed for about a decade after that and remembered being happy as I observed the way Rosalie lit up for the first time in her immortal life—how she finally embraced the second chance she’d been given and started living again. It had been a relief for everyone—especially Edward, I remembered with a snort; Carlisle had been trying to subtly push his oldest and newest creation together for years at that point. The Doctor was wonderful at many things, but matchmaking was most definitely not one of his strengths.  

I’d eventually left them again at the end of fall in 1945, claiming that I wanted to see New York in winter. It had been a lie and it was something I often did. Even though I loved them all as family and I was sure they returned the favour, I worried about overstaying my welcome, and so I forced myself to leave before they could ask. I didn’t usually stay away for long, certainly not over sixty years, but like I said it was easy for time to pass by when you were a vampire. As soon as I’d become aware of how many years had actually passed, I booked myself a flight from London to Washington—just because I hadn’t seen them face to face, I’d still kept in touch via letters. They liked to joke that I was stuck in the nineteenth century due to my preferred method of communication, but I didn’t care—writing letters felt more intimate to me. In Edward’s last letter he mentioned that his family were living in a small town known as Forks in Washington—I’d been there the last time they’d settled in that particular town. As I drove my rented car to their house I idly wondered if there were still any werewolves around for them to keep the treaty with. I supposed I’d have my answer soon enough.

 I felt a sense of familiarity wash over me as I passed the “Welcome to Forks” sign and I sensed a wave of security wrap around me like a soft blanket as I caught the familiar sent that would lead me to my family. I’d truly missed them, and I swore right there and then that I wouldn’t let so much time pass without visiting again.

 It didn’t take me long to reach the familiar but updated mansion in the middle of the woods—beside some modern improvements it hadn’t changed much and as I stepped out of the vehicle I’d rented I couldn’t help but grin at the memories that washed over me. Teaching Emmett how to hunt. Helping him wrestle with Edward. Shopping trips with Esme and Rose. Playing piano with Edward. Reading with Carlisle.

 A happy sigh fell from my lips as I gracefully slung my bag over my shoulder and made my way up the concrete steps. I was about to knock, because even though I knew I was always welcome here I could sense several scents I couldn’t recognise and I didn’t want to alarm anyone, but a rustle of wind caused me to whip around. A grin grew on my face and I dropped my bag by the door before taking off at full speed, following the scent that was so familiar and comforting despite so much time apart. I knew he’d be able to hear my thoughts with more clarity the closer I got, and I thought about manipulating my shield so that I could shock him. But another scent had me thinking better of it—it smelled like he was with a human? I couldn’t be sure because the two scents were so entwined together, but I thought the element of surprise wouldn’t be best if he were with someone I could potentially send into cardiac arrest.

 I slowed when I reached the familiar meadow, and I had about two seconds to see him lying next to a very human girl surrounded by grass and flowers before I was suddenly on the ground.

 ‘Edward!’ It meant to come out as a reprimand, but that was difficult when I was so happy to see him.

 ‘Y/N!’ He mimicked my tone, pulling me up from the floor and into a fierce hug that I returned with the same enthusiasm, ‘what are you doing here?’

 ‘I can’t stop by to visit my favourite people?’ I gasped, a mock-offended expression forming on my face but it fell into mirth when he rolled his eyes.

 ‘Of course you can, you just usually give notice.’ He pointed out, winding an arm around my shoulders as we started to walk. I realised he’d flashed me about fifty feet from the meadow before he’d tackled me and I idly wondered why.

 ‘I didn’t want to scare Bella.’ He answered my thoughts, ‘she knows what I am, but she’s not met other vampires outside of my family before.’

 ‘Ah, you’re scared I’m going to bite her.’ I nodded, winking to let him know I was jesting when he looked concerned that I’d taken offence, ‘so you have a girlfriend. I’ll take it that means sex is off the table this time, huh?’

 He gave me a look that made me chuckle and after a moment, he joined in.

 ‘I guess I’ll leave then.’ I sighed, shaking my head in faux disappointment, ‘I only came for a good roll in the sack.’

 He playfully shoved me away, laughter on his expression that I’m sure was mirrored in mine.

 ‘Stop.’ His tone was still light but a seriousness entered his eyes as we approached the edge of the clearing, ‘I haven’t told Bella about you yet, and I don’t want her to get the wrong idea before I’ve had a chance to explain.’

 ‘It’s not much to explain.’ I shrugged, crossing my arms over my chest, ‘I’m your best friend that you have sex with sometimes.’

 His expression became exasperated, ‘I’m not sure she would understand or be satisfied with that explanation.’

 ‘She should be. I mean, I love you Edward, but I’ve never loved you that way, and neither have you, which is why the whole casual sex thing between us worked so well. We both knew it wasn’t anything more than satisfying our own urges, and it didn’t change anything in our friendship.’ I said, curiously looking over towards the brunette who was patiently waiting for him in the centre of the meadow, the sunlight hitting her face and highlighting the flush on her cheeks.

 ‘You’re right, I just don’t know how she’ll take that,’ he sighed, tucking his hands into the pockets of the tan leather jacket he was wearing.

 ‘Well… you don’t have to tell her, I suppose, but then you run the risk of Emmett or Rose making a snide comment around her when they realise I’m back.’ I pursed my lips as I thought it over, ‘you know how they like to tease you, and I’d imagine now you have a girlfriend she would be the perfect pressure point to get your blood boiling. I mean that metaphorically of course.’ I flashed him a grin that he reluctantly returned, ‘I’d be honest with her, Ed. If she finds out somewhere else, it’ll do more damage in the long run—she’ll think you didn’t say anything because it meant more to you than it did blah blah blah. Just be open about it.’

 ‘You’re right.’ His smile was soft then as he pulled me in for another hug and murmured, ‘I missed you. Don’t stay away so long, okay?’

 ‘I’m sorry about that, I don’t know where those decades went.’ I shook my head in disbelief as I pulled away, ‘but it won’t happen again, I promise. Now go back to your girl, she’s getting impatient.’ I gestured over to where she was now pacing, ‘I’ll let you introduce me after you’ve given her the information.’

 ‘Thanks, Y/N.’

 ‘You’re welcome, darling.’ The endearment was a habit I’d picked up in London about a decade ago, and I could see the amusement shining in his eyes before he headed back to Bella.

 I turned and ran as soon as he was back to her, figuring he deserved the privacy. Plus, if he was going to tell her about me now, I’d rather not be around encase her reaction wasn’t positive. I mean I’d basically had a “friends with benefits” relationship with her boyfriend for eighty years; I couldn’t exactly blame her if that description didn’t inspire her desire to meet me.

 It didn’t take me long to get back to the house and I noted that my bag was no longer where I’d left it as I climbed the steps once again. This time I didn’t think about knocking—I figured my luggage being abandoned on their doorstep was warning enough—so I just walked in.

 ‘Carlisle? Esme?’ I said, my voice no louder than what I used in a normal conversation. I was about to call out for Rose and Emmett when my arms were suddenly full of a female blonde haired vampire.

 ‘Y/N! It’s been so long, I’ve missed you so much!’ Rose breathed into my ear as she embraced me—if I’d been human my spine would have been snapped in half at the force she was using, but I returned it tenfold, beyond happy to see her again.

 ‘I missed you too, Rose.’ I told her, a surprised squeak leaving my lips when we were both suddenly lifted. But when his scent surrounded me I laughed loudly, ‘I forgot how much of a man handling brute you are, Em.’

 ‘Wow. Back thirty seconds and you’re already pulling out the insults, Y/N?’ He shook his head, a wide grin stretching across his dimpled cheeks, ‘I’m impressed.’

 I laughed again, the sounds of two different kinds of wind chimes echoing off the walls, along with a big booming laugh that almost drowned us out.

 ‘Is that Y/N’s laugh I hear?’ Carlisle’s voice caused Emmett to release Rose and I. As soon as I was back on the ground, I was in my adopted father’s arms, ‘I know you’ve already heard it, but we’ve missed you.’

 My eyes glazed over with emotion but I hid it in Carlisle’s chest—if Emmett saw he’d never let me live it down—as I told them how I returned the sentiment in a soft voice. After a few more moments the male blonde vampire released me so that Esme could hold me as well. I’d had to really fight to keep my composure then—the two heads of the coven had become surrogate parents to me, and their embrace always made me feel at home and safe. It was a feeling I’d never experienced anywhere else in the world, and it was something I never took for granted. I appreciated them and their love more than I would ever be able to vocalise, and I was always reminded of that whenever I returned to them.

 It took a few moments before I was confident enough that I could speak without making my emotions obvious. When that time came, I pulled away from Esme, smiling when Rose linked an arm through mine and led me to the living room.

 ‘So what have I missed?’ I asked as I sat in between Rose and Em on the sofa. Carlisle and Esme squeezed together on the loveseat opposite, ‘I’ve noticed the new scents…?’ I trailed off, the question obvious in my tone—new members to the coven hadn’t come up in any of our letters.

 ‘Yes. Jasper and Alice, they found us actually.’ Carlisle smiled at my surprise, ‘Alice is gifted with visions of the future. When she was turned, she saw the life she would come to have and after picking up Jasper along her way, they found us and have been with us ever since.’

 I suspected there was more to the story than that, but I also knew that Carlisle respected everyone’s individual right to their own background. I could feel curiosity burning in my stomach but I ignored it, knowing that the male blonde vampire wouldn’t tell me anything, if I wanted answers I’d have to ask them directly. And that was fine, it was one of the things I respected about Carlisle—he understood the importance behind privacy.

 ‘That’s amazing. Where are they now?’ I wondered, more than eager to meet the new members of the coven.

 ‘They’re on a hunting trip. They should be back tomorrow morning.’ Esme smiled and I nodded in response.

 We chatted for a little while longer about where I’d been, what I’d seen and why it’d been so long since I’d been back. They seemed to understand that I hadn’t stayed away on purpose, after all they were immortal too; they knew how fickle time could be. But as we caught up I could feel anticipation bubbling up in my gut as I thought about meeting my new family members. I wondered what they would be like, how they would react at my presence—if Alice saw the future did that mean she’d seen me coming? Either way, I was half excited and half anxious over the whole prospect of the introduction. I found myself hoping Edward would be back before then—he was my best friend and he understood me better than anyone, and would therefore help me feel calmer, but I also knew he was a little preoccupied with his human. But that was okay. I was a big girl and it wasn’t like I was being asked to set myself on fire. I was just meeting new people. That’s it. But I couldn’t help but wonder—why was I so nervous?

 //

 It was reaching twilight outside when I proposed the idea of hunting. Carlisle and Esme declined as they’d already been out earlier that morning, Rosalie hadn’t but she wasn’t that thirsty, so it was just Emmett and I.

 As most things did whenever I was alone with Em, the hunting trip turned into a competition. The one with the biggest kill would be the winner and as we began I felt the swell of excitement vibrate throughout my body. I hadn’t felt this free and slightly childish since I’d left all those decades ago and it was wonderful. Due to the circumstances, the trip didn’t last very long as we both rushed to find the perfect kill. In the end, Emmett won. He managed to take down a deer that was slightly bigger than mine and he was still teasing me about it as we returned to the house.

 ‘All that time away has really turned you into a softie, huh?’ Em goaded, his hand laying across my shoulders as he squeezed me into his side, ‘too scared to take down the really big ones?’

 ‘Shut it, brute.’ I rolled my eyes, but the smile on my face told him that I wasn’t really annoyed, ‘this is the first and only time you’ll ever win against me, so I suggest you bask in this fleeting glory.’

 He threw his head back, his signature booming laugh echoing off the walls as we entered the mansion. I tried to playfully shove him away, but the force required to break his hold on me would have sent him flying through the wall and I didn’t think Esme would appreciate it. He just pulled me tighter against him and started to ruffle my hair with his other hand.

 ‘Damn it, Emmett,’ I groaned in irritation and mirth, ‘get off me you heathen!’

 I heard a few other laughs join in with Emmett’s and I assumed that meant he’d managed to drag me into the living room—I couldn’t actually see because my hair had fallen around my face like a dark curtain due to his shenanigans.

 ‘Let her go Emmett.’ Rose chuckled and I breathed a sigh of relief when he complied. I brushed my hair back to where it was supposed to be and sent her a grateful look.

 I was just about to ask where Edward was when the sound of two pairs of footsteps approaching the house reached my ears.

 ‘Sounds like they’re back,’ Esme smiled and stood from her seat on the couch to greet them.

 Carlisle came to stand beside me, a hand on my shoulder and I shot him a grateful smile when I realised he could sense my growing anxiety. My breath ceased when they entered. Alice was small and graceful; her pixie hair cut making her look like a delicate fairy rather than a deadly vampire. Here eyes were golden and the excitement shining in them answered my earlier wonderment—she had seen me coming. But it wasn’t her that made my whole body feel like it was burning in the most pleasant way possible. It wasn’t her scent that made a tidal wave wash over me, leaving behind a feeling of warmth and security. Being on the other end of her gaze didn’t make my knees feel weak and my breath quicken.

 The vampire responsible for all of these reactions was stood beside Alice, his curious golden gaze on mine. His hair was blonde, wavy and cut to just below his jawline. His skin was covered in scars, all in the shape of teeth and the different sizes indicated they were from multiple assailants rather than just one. I wanted to know the stories behind each of them, I wanted to trace them with my fingertips and erase any painful memories with my touch.

 I shook my head, shaking away my wondering thoughts—what the hell was happening? I’d never had this kind of reaction upon meeting someone new before—like a connection had instantly been formed without a word needing to be spoken. It was odd. It was crazy. I took a deep, unnecessary breath and forced a smile.

 ‘It’s nice to meet you both. I’m Y/N, but I have a feeling at least one of you already knew that,’ I teased, winking at Alice’s knowing look.

 The small girl chuckled and bounded forward, wrapping her arms around me and murmuring, ‘we’re going to be great friends, Y/N!’

 ‘I don’t doubt it.’ I assured her, my nerves dissipating momentarily in her bubbly presence.

 When she pulled away and stepped to the side I felt my nerves return as I made eye contact with Jasper. He appeared to be concentrating on something and a moment later I felt a sense of calm spread throughout my body, that only seemed to strengthen as I took in a lungful of his scent.

 ‘Nice to meet you, Y/N.’ I had to fight to keep my eyes open at the sound of his voice—it was strong, husky and carried a hint of a southern drawl that made me want to groan. How was it possible for me to be this affected by him?

 ‘Nice to meet you.’ I managed a small but sincere smile that he returned. I had to force myself to look away, lest my breath stop again because of his beauty.

 I didn’t understand what was going on, but I did know that I needed some air. I couldn’t take an inhalation without breathing in his scent and that wasn’t helping me clear my head. That was making me want to leap into his arms and never leave. I wondered if his touch would make me feel as safe as his scent did, but I banished that thought as soon as it appeared.

 ‘I’m going to get some air.’ I said, hoping they didn’t detect the tremor in my voice as I flashed out of the house without waiting for a response.

 I made my way to the meadow I’d found Edward in earlier—it was a place we’d both discovered in the five years I’d spent with the family in Forks before I’d moved on. I remembered the night we’d found it—we were supposed to be hunting, but once we wondered upon this clearing we’d both had to stop for a moment and take in the beauty of it. It had been a clear night, allowing the moon and stars to shine through. Eventually Edward decided to leave but I’d stayed and stared up at the beautiful sky until morning; I’d always found something soothing about the moon and stars.

 Unfortunately tonight was cloudy, but that was more common than clear in Forks. But I lay back anyway, my eyes fluttering closed as I appreciated the soft breeze that blew through the flowers and grass, heightening the scents of the grass and flowers around me. My stress and anxiety had sky rocketed ever since I’d left the mansion, but being here and surrounded by nature helped quell it a little. Or at least, just enough so that I could think.

 It was interesting—now that I was alone, it was easier to separate my reaction to Jasper from the feelings of lunacy and foolishness that immediately followed. I suspected it was because having no one else around helped me separate it from reality, and so acknowledging the strength of my feelings didn’t make me feel idiotic or crazy. Instead it was easy to pretend that the way I suddenly felt connected to the blonde was normal. Even now as I lay in the centre of the rounded clearing, I was aware of the pull I felt towards him, like an invisible string now connected us together and urged me to return to his presence. That realisation should have resulted in the return of my earlier feelings, but instead I felt a wave of reassurance, as if that were completely natural.

 I had no idea what was going on, but I didn’t feel any urgency to question it in that moment. I sighed happily as the pull eased, and it took me longer than it should have to realise why that was happening. I’d been so lost in my thoughts that I hadn’t heard his approach, but his scent wrapped around me like a soft, warm blanket. As soon as I’d caught a whiff, I’d sat up, my spine straight as I focused my hearing to determine what direction he was going to come from. But apparently, my reactions had really been slow, because by the time I’d sat up, he’d reached the meadow.

 I took another deep breath, attempting to use the security that washed over me with his scent to provide me with the courage I needed to meet his eyes. But I chickened out and allowed my gaze to linger on the blue denim that covered his legs. I could appreciate the muscle definition even through the denim and the wish to see them not covered in fabric suddenly sprang up in my mind. I shook my head to clear it and noticed he’d sat down, crossed legged about three feet in front of me.

 ‘Hey, Jasper,’ I didn’t speak very loudly, wanting to keep my voice light, but it wasn’t as if he would have to strain to pick up my words, ‘what’s up?’

 ‘I was going to ask you the same thing. Why did you leave like that?’ he frowned and the sadness in his voice caused me to look into his eyes, ‘do you not want me?’

 ‘W-what are you talking about?’ I stuttered, had I really been that transparent in my attraction to him?

 ‘You’re my mate.’ He said as if it were the simplest thing in the world, ‘I thought you realised that when I felt your reaction to my presence.’

 My head was suddenly swimming with the information I’d just been given. Jasper was my mate? A sigh of relief fell from my lips, if that were the case then it all made sense. My sudden onslaught of feelings, the safeness, the security, and the attraction—I’d observed all of those characteristics as they appeared between Rose and Em. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t realised it sooner, and I was suddenly overwhelmed with such a strong bought of joy. I had found my mate. I’d never truly believed that would happen for me, that I would be lucky enough to find the person that completed me, that completed my soul.

 A sound of surprise fell from Jasper’s lips as I leaped into his arms, causing him to fall backwards; my arms wrapped around his neck and my face fit perfectly into the crook of his neck as I inhaled is scent. I felt his arms wrap around my waist and he used it as leverage to pull me tighter against him. A contented sound fell from both of us and if I hadn’t been so relaxed I would’ve laughed at the simultaneous action.

 ‘I’m sorry I ran.’ I murmured, my left hand trailed down to his chest and played with the buttons on his blue shirt, ‘I didn’t know what was happening, and feeling so much for you so soon made me feel like I was going crazy.’

 A chuckle fell from his mouth as he kissed my forehead, the gesture creating a surge of electricity to surge throughout my body.

 ‘It’s okay, I understand. If Alice hadn’t told me that I was going to meet my mate soon, I probably would have felt the same way.’ He assured me, his southern drawl becoming thicker as he spoke. I wondered if it was because he was relaxed, because we were alone, or a mixture of the two. Either way it sparked a bolt of arousal and I closed my eyes in an attempt to supress it.

 ‘What did you mean before when you said you senses my reaction to you?’ I wondered as the conversation replayed through my mind.

 ‘I can sense and influence the emotions of others.’ He said, his cool breath caressing the side of my face. I sighed at the warmth it left behind.

 ‘That sounds really… overwhelming.’ I pursed my lips as I contemplated that—it was similar to Edward’s gift in a way. Always having everyone’s emotions or thoughts just constantly buzzing in the back of your mind must have been irritating.

 ‘It was at first, but over the years I’ve learned to control it,’ his hand moved through my hair as he spoke, ‘sometimes it’s difficult, especially if I’m thirsty, but for the most part I’m used to it.’

 I nodded as best as I could with my head resting on his chest—I could relate to what he meant a little, and I told him so as I explained my abilities to him. I was a shield, which meant I had the ability to cast a shield around my mind or body, depending on the kind of attack I was facing. Edward had originally thought he couldn’t read my mind when we’d first met, only to be completely shocked when I’d felt comfortable enough to drop my mental shields around the family. For the most part I had control over when I would wield it, but if I were ever taken by surprise or felt threatened it would come forward and protect me.

 ‘Is it visible?’ he asked, curiosity shining in his tone.

 ‘It can be. It depends on whether I want people to know I’m using it or not.’ I said, rearranging our position so that he was sitting crossed legged again and I was I his lap, ‘I’ll show you.’

 I sent him an excited smile before I closed my eyes, concentrating as I willed my shield to wrap around us like a bubble. I felt the light on my face as it glowed bright blue, illuminating the meadow we were in. Jasper’s gasp of wonder made me smile and I pictured my shield rising off the ground by a few feet before I opened my eyes. I expected him to be looking at the glowing shield that surrounded us, and my breath caught when his golden eyes were fixed on me. I’d never been on the receiving end of a look so potent with adoration and awe.

 We moved together without thought, our lips meeting in a tender kiss that quickly became vigorous with passion. I had no idea if my shield was still keeping us afloat, but I didn’t care—a meteor could have hit the earth in that moment and I wouldn’t have noticed. I was completely overwhelmed with him; his intoxicating scent that was both sweet and spicy, his touch that was soft and smooth against mine, and his own skin that remained smooth despite the ridges that I felt as my hands slid down his arms. The moment was perfect and as our lips moved together as if we’d kissed a thousand times before, I couldn’t help the feeling of gratitude that joined all of the other emotions swirling throughout my body. Because I’d actually found him. My mate. My other half. And I was never going to take him for granted, because this connection, this kind of love, was a gift.

 //

 Epilogue: one year later, coming up to the newborn battle in Eclipse.

 ‘Honestly, the trouble that your mate attracts is astounding, Ed.’ I teased, twisting my body and allowing my arms to spin in circles like a child. I had to get the nervous energy out somehow—we’d all gathered for Jasper to train us on the best way to fight newborns successfully.

 I was excited to fight and nervous to potentially watch my mate get hurt, even though I knew that wasn’t likely—he was the most experienced in combat after all.

 ‘You don’t have to tell me,’ Edward rolled his eyes, recognising that I was only jesting.

 A few of us chuckled when Bella smacked his shoulder and frowned when she ended up hurting herself.

 ‘She’s going to have more anger issues than you when she’s turned, Y/N.’ Emmett teased, his booming laugh echoing around the trees as I flipped him off.

 We all tensed as the footsteps of the approaching pack reached our ears. Ten of them stepped out of the shadows and I wrinkled my nose as their scent invaded the clearing. My eyes narrowed at the sound of their growling and I couldn’t help the invisible shield that expanded from me to cover my family. I stepped forward to stand beside Jasper, my fingers entwining with his protectively.

 ‘Hey there darling,’’ he smirked, the southern drawl coating his words wonderfully.

 I didn’t answer; instead I rested my head on his shoulder, knowing he could feel my anxiety already. I took a deep breath, comforted as his scent washed over me. I wished I could bury my head in his chest—I knew his arms would make me feel completely content—but I restrained myself, as it obviously wasn’t the time.

 ‘They don’t trust us enough to be in their human forms.’ Edward translated from where he was stood behind Jasper and I.

 I rolled my eyes, sure to keep my shield in place—if they didn’t trust us then I sure as hell wasn’t going to trust them.

 ‘I have a shield around us all,’ I murmured in Jasper’s ear, my volume low enough that the words stayed between us—and Edward seeing as he could read our thoughts—the blonde’s eyes met mine, his dark eyes shone with affection and assurance. I sent him a wink before we both turned to watch as the meeting officially began.

 Carlisle stepped forward, his behaviour calm and inviting, ‘welcome. Jasper here has some experience fighting newborns; therefore he can show us the most successful and efficient ways of defeating them.’

 ‘They wanna know how newborns are different from us.’ Edward said, his tone lower than how he usually spoke as he relayed the wolves words.

 ‘They're a great deal stronger than us, because their own human blood lingers in their tissues. Our kind is never more physically powerful than in our first several months of this life.’ Our leader answered, looking over at the blonde next to me and nodding at him to continue.

 Jasper squeezed my hand and stepped forward, turning his back to the wolves without hesitation and addressing his family directly. I noticed one of the wolves take a step forward at the sight of him being vulnerable and I bit back a growl, knowing we were all safe even if they did try to attack.

 ‘Carlisle is right. That's why they are created. A newborn army doesn't need thousands like a human army. And no human army could stand against them. The two most important things to remember are, first—never let them get their arms around you. They'll crush you instantly. The second—never go for the obvious kill. They'll be expecting that. And you will lose. Emmett? Don't hold back.’ Jasper smirked, gesturing for the curly haired vampire to come forward.

 They faced off and Emmett grinned, ‘not in my nature.’

 I bit my lip, folding my arms over my chest as I tried to force myself to stay still. Seeing your mate fighting—even against someone you considered family—was something I still struggled to witness. I don’t know how the others handled it, but I assumed it was something that would get better with time.

 Emmett went to charge towards the blonde haired vampire and I winced, my hands moving to cover my eyes involuntarily. I waited for the sound that would indicate they’d crashed together but it didn’t come. I was confused, but unwilling to look until I knew the coast was clear.

 ‘Y/N?’ Jasper’s voice sounded amused and I couldn’t help but drop my hands to see what had caused it.

 If I were still capable of blushing I was sure my face would be bright red in that moment—Emmett was surrounded by a separate shield that glowed an angry red and had lifted him ten feet off the ground. I’d seen my shield appear to protect me when I felt threatened, but this was the first time it’d reacted to save someone I cared about being in danger.

 ‘Do you think you could release Emmett?’ Jasper asked, mirth still present in his voice.

 I bit my lip to hide my smile as I slowly lowered the curly haired brunette before retracting the shield, ‘sorry about that.’

 I sheepishly stepped back, hoping that if I weren’t so close it would mean I wouldn’t be as tempted to interfere. My arm linked through Rose’s and I ignored her smirk and focused my attention on the front. I hadn’t realized how protective I could be until I’d met Jasper and if he didn’t return the sentiment just as strongly as I did, I would have felt awful about it.

 Emmett was charging forward with brute strength, but Jasper was moving too fast for him to catch. He kept trying, but his hands met air, and Jasper managed to catch him by surprise and throw him to the ground. The curly haired vampire attempted to retaliate but Jasper disappeared and re-appeared behind him, his teeth an inch from his throat. I smiled, amused and a little aroused by Jasper’s abilities to gain the upper hand so quickly.

 He gestured for me to come forward and I laughed when I saw he was paring me with Edward—he knew I’d bring up my mental defenses to prevent the mind reader from having the upper hand. While the bronze haired vampire was the fastest in our coven, I was the stealthiest and evaded his grasps easily. Though I had a little too much fun letting him think he had me in his grasp, only to move away at the last second. Eventually I put an end to it, leaping onto his back, my teeth an inch from his throat.

 ‘Got you.’ I smirked and jumped down, playfully shoving his shoulder as we moved out of the way to make room for the next pair.

 ‘Not so good without your parlor trick, Ed.’ I laughed when he shoved me three feet away from him, his eyes rolling when Jasper growled warningly.

 We fell further back and watched as the other pairs fought and I found myself much more relaxed now that Jasper settled into his role of instructor. He watched the others and offered pointers to help their stance, and didn’t lead another demonstration. Eventually we reached the end of the session, and I could see Edward’s relief as Bella was practically passed out against his side.

 ‘They want to know if you’d allow them closer to take in our scents. It’ll make it easier to avoid confusion during the battle.’ Edward said, his arm tightening around his human’s waist the sleepier she got.

 ‘Very well.’ Carlisle agreed.

 Jasper came to stand beside me and I dropped my shield with a sigh, not wanting to create any tension if they tried to step towards us only to be stopped by an invisible barrier. It was incredibly hard not to flinch as each werewolf stopped in front of each of us, tentatively sniffing before moving on. I understood that werewolves were people and I didn’t resent them because of their species or because it was in my “DNA” to despise them. I was on edge because I was aware of how much they resented all vampires. I’d heard plenty from them since we’d returned to Forks a few months ago, and I hated it. But they were helping us here, so I forced down my unease, which was a lot easier with Jasper by my side.

 Being loved by the blonde vampire made me feel an abundance of feelings. In that moment I was aware of how he made me feel powerful, confident and protected, so much so that the wolves passed by without me even noticing. As we made our way back to the mansion, running hand in hand, I realized why I’d been so calm about the upcoming battle. Even before the wolves offered their help when us winning wasn’t certain, I hadn’t been afraid, because I knew I’d have Jasper by my side throughout the battle and after.

 As long as I had my mate by my side, there wasn’t anything that we would have to face alone. And there wasn’t anything that would survive trying to hurt us or our family.

[jksangelic]

heaven’s winter (m)

RATING: M

GENRE: fantasy, fluff, smut, a hint of a soulmate au, light angst

PAIRING: village daughter!reader x seraph!yoongi (alternatively, an “angel”)

WARNINGS/TAGS: lots of overthinking/past angst regarding both reader and yoongi separately (yoongi especially), tae is involved as an important plot side character but he’s barely in there i’m sorry, surprise aggression from yoongi because u get in his personal space, slow burn smut but the smut is nice and flavorful, explicit sexual content, body worship, oral sex (female receiving), virgin!reader, clumsy cute smut uwu, unprotected sex (wrap it up pls), several positions, unintentional temperature play?, lots of love and respect up in this house and lots of other things i probably forgot. 

also i wrote a lot for the intro you can skim idc lmao.

SUMMARY: your duty as the village daughter places you in line for the season’s Offering; a tradition not to tread lightly upon. as the snow falls slow and heavy, and the seraph awaits in the shallows of the mountain, you fail to realize what the winter has in store for you.

WORD COUNT: 18,600

NOTE: welcome to my slice of the Fantastical Stories for Curious Souls Collaboration!

it’s always really an honor to be able to work with other writers and i’m really grateful that they allowed my butting-in )))): thank you all!!! make sure to check out everyone’s stories in the link above and let us know what you think!

(uhhh i just..... i spent way too much time on research and the politics behind this fic for it to still be aLL oVer tHe plaCe but please cut me some slack. might i throw in that this has no religious/cultural affiliation and instead has more of a fantastical theme to it that is entirely fictional. especially for the concept of the Offering and how i loosely throw around the word “angel” and “heaven” and etc.)

((might i add that i recently discovered that i am *terrible* at describing geography and am totally basing it off of video-game visuals........ cough cough zeldabreathofthewild))

(((this last one’s kinda important!!!!: yoongi is described to be larger than you bc he’s this magical bird being. i always try to keep reader insert broad in description but if you’re taller than irl yoongi boongi, pssst, you’re not in this universe sorry but i make the rules)))

((((this is currently unedited. @14statelier​ get to work.))))

Part One

The snow falls slow and thick. The children catching it on their tongues and compacting it to shoot at each other, screaming and wailing all the same as it continues to pile. It fell particularly early this time around, normally nothing more than cold bitter to the skin and clouds stirring prediction of the oncoming winter. You were always a heavy sleeper despite the beauty of first frost, long past your days of childish amazement through fogged windows and warm fires but you watched the icy cotton substance pile since dawn this morning. Not even drowsiness will overrun your excitement for the day ahead.

“You light three incense and make sure they burn all the way through before you turn around,” Taehee states.

“Find some stones on your way. Use them to hold the tapestry down as you set up. It looks especially windy today,” Mina adds.

Yoona finishes tucking your hair back rather tightly, “You should stop by Jin’s and pick up some extra bread. You know he’ll give you some of his fresh batch if you asked for it.”

You suppose, not even the nagging of your aunts.

You chew on your fingers, a nervous habit. Taehee pulls your slobbered index from your lips with a wrinkled forehead, “You better remember this, dear. You only have to do it once but if you do it right, it’ll be worth much more.”

You recite drearily, “Follow the path, set up the altar, say our prayers, return home.”

“Once the incense is out, Y/N. You mustn’t forget.”

“And you cannot explore the manor. Don’t walk around. Don’t look through the windows—”

“It’s a manor? How big do you suppose?” you ask with newfound interest to your words.

“That doesn’t matter, girl. You don’t wander. You don’t explore. You do what is told of you and nothing more. What matters is that you don’t spot a seraph, and that the seraphs don’t spot you.”

You never understood that rule. If the seraph tribe was so kind as to help your country win a rather one-sided war, then why the invisible boundary? To be in alliance and never interact was an odd sense of unity to you, if any. “Have you ever seen a seraph? Is it true they have two sets of wings?” You’d always been curious to the subject, a fairytale-like existence just waiting below the peak.

“The elders claim they do. A large and small set. Some say it’s necessary for having human proportions. You know, they say it’s bad luck to stare at a seraph’s wings. ” Mina says in awe in correspondence to the way she suffocates you with your robe’s sash.

You swat her away, forcing down a smile, “I don’t believe that, you haven’t even seen one! How do you even know they exist!”

“Hush! You’ll get into some real trouble if an elder catches you saying that. They exist. And they live up the mountain. And you will do the Offering with utmost delicacy and respect. Besides, you’re the only one coming-of-age this year! A girl to do it by herself is surely something the leaders will appraise of you.” You avoid their scrutinous, expectant gazes.

You could say you’ve been cursed at birth. Weak in basic skills in which an adult, regardless of age, is identified by. You lacked time management and a sense of direction, you harbored a bad habit of looking down when you spoke, you couldn’t even wash the dishes without chipping a glass. Your legs worked against you at random times, quite literally tripping you up and deeming you as a clumsy, pitiful thing. As you grew older, the only skills you were able to contribute were to the fields, where things were organic and didn’t require fragility.

“I am not as useless as you think of me,” the words come out unprompted but true and exposed.

The women gawk and babble like hens in a flurry of angered denial or soft apologies but you no longer have time to discuss unimportant matters.

In the midst, rough, giant hands encase your face. You don’t realize you’re looking to the floor until Taehyung props your chin upwards, met with smiling eyes and an ear-to-ear grin. His name rolls off your tongue in surprise.

“Hey, don’t start moping before you even start. It really isn’t a big deal. You hike all the way up to the riverbank more than the others and that’s a long way. This is no different. And think, when you come home everyone will come to realize how much they’ve missed you! Me included.”

“It’s not that I’m…” You start haphazardly. Well, it’s not that you’re reluctant to do the Offering. To adventure otherwise prohibited land and by yourself, to prove that you can handle life just fine and don’t need to be seared by the judgement of deploring eyes. Some time to enjoy solitary peace. It wasn’t even a whole day, dammit, but you’ll take what you can get. You choose to lie, “I guess I am a bit nervous. I’ll make sure to pace myself. Besides, I’d run myself short if I finished in half-a-day like you.”

Tae puffs, a little proud of himself, “What can I say… I’d like for the little ones to look up to me.” You roll your eyes, scanning your bed for your scarf. Taehyung eyes the cloth as you wrap it around, a rare moment of quiet. He stares, entranced, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so focused. As you think about inquiring his statue-like manner, you notice that more of the silence is due to the disappearance of the squawking hens. Those sly, evil matchmakers.

You suddenly pull him along and towards the exit, “You can’t be in here. You’ll get us in trouble.”

He blinks dumbly and slumps against your ministrations. “Your aunts seemed to be fine with it. And it’s not like I haven’t snuck in your window a few… several times.”

Your expressed sheepishness is his favorite source of entertainment, “Goodness, as kids! You make it sound so rebellious.” He winks as if you share a grand secret, all to his imagination of course.

Taehyung, on the other hand, was the village’s be-all and end-all. Born to work and carry everyone else on his back. He stands tall with his shoulders wide and prominent, chestnut waves that reached his cheekbones now. Shirt tight around his torso in ways that could excite anyone that risked a glimpse. You can’t help but find it amazing how much of a crybaby he was when you were young and how sturdy and dependable he is now. He was humorously your polar opposite.

You try to shoo him once more, “Anyways. I’m getting ready and you can’t see me. Go wait with everyone else!” His pout is jarring paired with his hard, strong build. Like a teddy bear with abs and palm blisters from years of physical labor.

His body moves on his own at some point, reluctantly reaching for your door handle, “No parting kiss upon my cheek, fair lady?”

It’s obvious he’s being more daring these days. With frequent visits and gifts on your doorstep, and now requested kisses. The whole town knew you were likely to marry him, a relief for most. But on your hand, you’ve just known him for so long. Practically since you were born. You’ve already shared kisses, you’ve already had those butterflies in your stomach; but the kisses were stolen in secret and the butterflies were stagnant. And although it was never a consistent nor official courting, you felt as though Taehyung was already a route taken. You know better to never admit that into the air, though. Not when everyone expected your cooperation with marriage at the least. To care for someone so special, and to bear his children plump and healthy.

What a static life to live, you try not to think. You instead try to blame such thinking on your inferiority complex, to at least ease some of that horrible guilt in your stomach. You should be grateful for your life. Talentless yet adored. A village princess that was easy on the eyes and sought after by those looking for that beauty and its accompanied dowry.

A proposal was near, that much you could tell with his efforts. In his perspective, the sooner the better lest he want someone else to steal you from him. Contradictory to your own reasoning, the only relief you find is that it is him, your dearest friend. Perhaps the only one to disregard your shortcomings and want to fill your empty spaces as much as he can. He cared about you and that could be enough. So you try to convince yourself of that.  

You kiss his cheek softly and without hesitation. Not so much as a blush. He suspects nothing less than mutual adoration and takes his leave like you request, leaving you alone in silence for a relieving twenty seconds. Then the hens come back inside and squabble about who will be able to sew together your future gown.

 Part Two

It starts under the old pine tree on the far side of the village. A crowd gathers as you wait under the swaying branches, mutters and looks of excitement apparent. A cleric waits beside you with three elder women who prepare your things: a woven satchel loaded with the items that you are to lay out, things like dried flowers, fruits, fine wines, tapestries, collected crystals, baked goods and the incense. A replica display of what little the humans had presented at the foot of the seraphs. Untouchable beings with class and power much above your own. Kindness as well, so it seems; to be provided with just this and offer unparalleled assistance to a hopeless cause in the old wars. You wondered if they still watched from afar, curious to the well-being of their mortal neighbors.

"Dear, keep your mind with us. You'll be off shortly," one of the grandmas whisper, placing a carved selenite athame into a leather holster and slipping it into the confines of your robe, "For protection." You smile and thank her kindly, tuning back into the ceremony and waiting for the second elder. They continue to adorn you in charms and traveling goodies, eventually piling on unnecessary weight that will, for sure, slow you down in the process. The trek was basically a day’s trip. If you moved efficiently, you should be home no later than when the sun begins to set, in time for supper even. As much as you’d like to stay out longer, you dare not risk a night in the mountains.

“—this year’s representative will be just as prosperous. May she bring good fortune and health onto our town just as the many before her has done so,” the old cleric roars into the audience, just about finishing his speech as you start to listen. You hope he didn’t say anything too significant. Can’t possibly hang on to every dry word when you were so close to tasting temporary freedom.

You make your way into the parted sea of people, some who grip your hand as you walk by to invoke strength as you move along. A few grumble good luck’s and come back safe’s. Then an angry baker charging through helpless bodies.

“Take this, you stupid girl. You were supposed to stop by the bakery this morning,” Seokjin whines, thrusting what seems to be a warm pastry wrapped with cheesecloth into your hands.

“Thank—Thank you. I’m sorry, I didn’t want to bug…”

Jungkook pops in from nowhere, hitting your shoulder a little too playfully, “Chin up, love. Don’t be back too soon.” You nod shyly as he distances behind. Jungkook always had a strong nose for your facades but he also always kept your secrets. Clutching your things tightly, you watch your boots as they pick up speed through the mess of attention.

“Good luck!”

“Watch your surroundings, little one.”

“Come home and don’t wander off!”

You leave northbound until you no longer hear their cheers. Until the snow no longer has indented prints and you think you’re alone and off to the races. A sudden tension snaps when you release your sore cheeks from an artificial smile, not even aware you were sporting one in the first place. There was always a heavy pressure when you presented yourself to the public, and while you were no damn princess, everyone ensured that you at least feel the looming responsibility of one. Curse your family’s political ties and all that, otherwise you wouldn’t give a damn if you seemed like an old witch spotted once in a blue moon.

When you reach the border gate is when you see Taehyung for the last time today. It comes as a surprise to see him waiting for you like a loyal dog, dark hair sprinkled with snowflakes, red cheeks a striking contrast against the bright setting. If you were more grateful, you’d think he looks particularly good today. If anything, it strikes you more that you failed to see his face at the send-off.

“Hey. I didn’t want to do this in front of everyone else… and today of all days but if I don’t right now, I don’t think I ever will,” he jumbles. In his hands hold a scarlet scarf, the same one you had seen as a child when his mom would occasionally take care of you, let you help bake, and playfully dress you in her accessories. All but that scarf, folded neatly and tucked into a corner or her closet.

“Oh! Don’t touch that, love,” she said, “That’s something my mother-in-law made for me.”

You had pouted then, a spoiled brat of sorts. But Taehyung’s mother’s eyes were always warm and she spoke softer than cashmere, “I have to give that to my son when he decides to marry. Will you make sure he finds the right one, for me? You are his best friend, aren’t you?”

You remember the challenge you felt, yelling without hesitation, “Taetae will marry me! When we grow up I’ll be his bride and you won’t have to worry!”

She giggled in contentment, eyes squinted in a wide smile and petting you lovingly, “Ah, of course. I know you’ll be a wonderful wife, Y/N. Taehyung will be in great hands.”

“I had been there, you know,” Taehyung chuckles, “When you claimed you’d be my wife when we got older. I was hiding in the hallway and initially, I thought, ‘I’ll never marry my best friend!’. But, now… I just can’t imagine wanting to marry anyone else.”

You grin at him sadly. Of course he had been holding onto this his entire childhood.

“Taehyung…”

“We’re still young, I know that. I just want to give you this for your trip to make me feel more at ease and so you can think about it. You can take all the time that you need. I know Mother wouldn’t mind, especially for you.” You nod. It’s all you can do. Taehyung pulls you into a tight embrace and kisses your hair. When he pulls away, he wraps your neck into the warmth of the scarf you’d always wished to wear. But it’s almost suffocating now, locking in your fate before you even step out of the village boundaries.

“For now, just come back to me. I’ll be waiting for you no matter what you decide.”

You can fathom the communal disappointment of rejecting your strongest suitor. More importantly, you would be shameful to turn down his proposal. Once it was out there, there was no “decision”.

You can imagine your aunts now, squealing in delight and sewing from their best cloths.

 Part Three

Though you never had the chance to explore much, this really was nothing you've ever seen before. An ominous stairway carved into rock weaved in and out of your trail which made it fairly easy to follow along. You can't imagine the labor that went into sculpting this far ahead and all the way up the side of the mountain; it was truly something mind-boggling. As the air begins to thin, the amount of snow starts to grow thicker. If you had waited any longer into the winter you wouldn’t even be able to see the path, you’re sure.

You only need to stop twice to catch your breath and sit down. Snacking on the bread Jin gifted you only a few hours ago. It’s satisfying to look back at the area you’ve covered, how small things look from your height and the beauty of a fresh snow blanket. The scenery to the riverbank was nowhere as near breathtaking to that of the mountain. A dreamscape of evergreen trees and varying shrubbery, crossing over a short wooden bridge floating over a near-frozen stream, even occasional wildlife prancing into view. The summit itself wasn’t terribly high. It was manageable to hike for the most part, more so that your goal wasn’t to reach the peak. 

You could travel all the time, you think. Hike or take a horse somewhere farther than here but that’s not very practical. There was nowhere really to go and you didn’t have the luxury to just up and leave your household, and now Taehyung. The knots in your brain seem to loosen, blame the inclination and dry air infiltrating your head. Knowing your life was to be faced someday and all your immature ambitions to leave the village now seeming childlike and unattainable. The pessimism had yet to blow out your weak flame of philosophical rebellion but it was surely keeping you in check.

Judging by the sun's position, it's midday. Meaning it shouldn't be long before you catch sight of the "manor" and thus will be halfway finished with your journey.

You nearly walk off the cliffside before you notice the route's abrupt change and how it slithers deeper into the eye of the mountain. The farther you walk, the closer the earthy walls begin to shut in on you in a trench-like structure. It's even more unbelievable coming upon a short archway, perhaps man-made and mined through a boulder that could have fallen from atop one of the peaks. Being here, you realize, makes you feel small. Slithering through the terrain like a fairy in the tales your mother had told you at night. Of beasts and cryptids that could appear in the tangles of forest and vanish all in the same. There was a sort of dreamlike trance you found yourself in as you walked under the rock as if it were a portal.

And, unexpectedly, it's there. Atop a few more dreadful flights of stairs, hidden between an odd bundle of trees and beneath a fresh veil of snow, you can barely make out the silhouette of a house. It's still a bit far and eerily surrounded by fog but it's there and it almost looks as if it's... floating. Like a gateway to a secret nook of heaven.

It's one of those odd, puzzle-like mirages when you climb more steps to think you're only getting farther from the house. The swaying of branches keeps you from determining just how big it is and what it could possibly conceal. Even the atmosphere, chill and intimidating, makes your heart skip in perplexed anticipation. Having been at this for hours, if the staircase hadn't just ceased you would have kept walking straight into the dark wooden door.

But your aching legs find relief in the stretching flat surface of a porch and your exhilaration to reaching such a majestic destination that you could squeal. Of course, you don't, and instead get started at the task at hand.

You kneel onto the cool floor and begin to unload your things, neatly and without the need to rush. You lay stones on each corner of the tapestry to hold it down, you lay out the contents in somewhat of an aesthetically manner, you strike a match to light the incense and you mumble your thanks on behalf of the village, all as you were told. The snicker under your breath comes unwarranted as you finalize the display, even Taehyung couldn't have done this well.

It feels a little anticlimactic; a little short-lived. To have come up this whole way and spend a maximum of five minutes in somewhere you could spend days exploring. Idling, you can practically hear the warning clucks of your aunts engraved into your brain.

"Don't dilly-dally!"

"Come straight home."

"Even think of doing anything funny and I'll have Seokjin roast you alive."

Maybe it's why it's even more satisfying to you when you ignore them altogether, standing from your position and just dying to see the rest of the manor's exterior. One peek, one peek and I'll never stray from instruction ever again, you think. Just my last burst of freedom and then I promise to be a good girl with no more personality than a wet dish rag.

So you tiptoe to the massive door and lean your ear against it as if you could hear anything with its size and the strong winds. You questioned if anyone even lived here, void of any decorations or signs of recent activity. Maybe the deer would get to the food you laid out before someone even stepped foot on the property prior next Offering.

When there are no obvious indications of life do you weasel your way around the corner, an extension of the porch wrapping around the side of the house to much of your assumption and revealing an expanse of space. The cabin was two stories at the least, maybe even three if not had been for the first story windows and how incredibly tall they were. You could only imagine the comfort of being inside such a space, being able to wake and watch the snow behind a glass wall of incredible proportions. While you ogle the window do you, of course, fail to realize that it's transparent and startle a bit when something begins to move.

The reflection makes it a bit difficult to pinpoint, a large dark figure shifting ever so slightly in its confines. Like a complete buffoon, you near the wall even closer with squinted eyes just making out the shapes of an entity.

Whatever it is, it's incredibly large. A heart in shape and composed of monochromatic blacks, reaching the floor and surely much taller than you. It was killing you that you couldn't figure out what the hell it was, well-near leaning against the glass as you peer into the private space.

You freeze in place as the elongated heart is really in the shape of wings, accompanied by a body as they’re dragged behind it like a veil. Long and dark and ruffling occasionally as their owner rotates a bit...

But you don't get to see his face. The man in which you firmly believed could be nothing but a myth; as propaganda by the village elders to keep your actions in check. Rather, the seraphs were more authentic than you could have ever imagined, and as magical and inspiring as it may be, so are the Offering rules that are now proved and justified, and that could only mean that this was very, very unfortunate timing to be snooping around property that was not yours.

Your feet scramble backwards in attempt to flee out of sight, instead graciously slipping against the frozen wood and causing you to land quite harshly on your side. Your hip burns at the impact but more horrifyingly important, the crash rattles the side of the floating stoop and his eyes burn into your pathetic body. The moment is wedged between fractions of a second, eye contact barely existent but it's enough to see the daggers in the seraph's irises. It's enough of a warning for you to get back onto your feet and sprint as carefully as possible away from such a gaze that could light this winter wonderland into disastrous flames.

All that comes across your mind as you rush down the steps is how wrong you were. How you unjustly became more and more skeptical of the stories and legends of the creatures that existed in the crevices of the mountains. How numb you became to the warnings as your age drew near for your rite of passage. How much of a taboo you would become if you were to ever tell a living soul that you witnessed a seraph and its marvelous wings. Not that you would.

Your ability to run brings you to the realization that you forgot your things but it was beyond you now. For once in your life, you cherish the idea of being home and hiding under the covers in the tranquil warmth of a familiar fireplace. To dream away the moment that dark angel caught a sly fox trespassing into his territory and, rightfully so, looking as if he craved to skin it alive.

You yelp at the sudden caw of ravens as they fly overhead. Their screeches send shivers to your bones, a sudden chill slowing you down. Rustling in the nearby trees deem you completely terrified, a gut feeling deducting the possibility of winds blowing that strong in the middle of dense shrubbery. Your heart drops once more; your athame was left in the abandoned bag.

The last time you had seen a wolf was when you were barely a toddler, sleepily held in the arms of a younger (and much kinder) Mina. It lurked in the woods just past the fields, a little young and possibly separated from its pack. But wolves were smart and they knew better than to make trouble in a town of loud humans. You remember the way it pulled its ears back and slinked back into the sanctity of its wild home and never to be seen again.

These wolves were smart too, howling their announcement upon finding a small, weak girl all alone and oozing dread. Two pairs of eyes track you as their corresponding bodies stalk out of the bushes, large and sleek and beautiful. Both grey and both incredibly hungry, they begin to pace around you maybe 100 feet away. You startle back and up a stair, most favored option to return to the cabin and retrieve your bag, maybe stay near for a bit until the creatures leave but then another, black and larger than the other two, barks harshly and stands its ground on your sacred steps. You are royally trapped.

“Stay… Stay back,” you warn dumbly, looking to the only open direction in the woods. You wouldn’t be as fast as on the path as long as you had to maneuver through the snow but you could possibly break off a hefty branch. Enough to ward them off to get back to the cabin and pray that the seraph doesn’t pose more of a problem than flesh-eating hounds.

So you sprint, robes clenched in your fists and boots sinking into the pillows of ice, disappearing into the trees and disregarding the snarls that start up behind you. You look desperately for something, anything to help you. Snow begins to find its way into your shoes each time you trip over yourself, wetting the soles of your feet. Hands scraping against bark with each twist and turn and your fingers burn. You only look back occasionally, seeing no more than one pair of eyes at a time at a short distance. This must have been a fun game to them, howling their contents into brisk air.

The black dog truly appears from nowhere, a flash of teeth from your left peripheral before it tackles you to the ground the same moment you find a dead branch and thrust it into its snapping jaw. It all happens too fast. You yipe as you roll through the fall, wolf teeth still digging through your only weapon and snapping the poor thing to two. In pure desperation, you dig the sharper broken half into whatever it’s willing to hit. Fortunately enough, the wolf whimpers and tumbles off you. Then you’re off once again, adrenaline ringing in your ears as you don’t even care to recall which way is which, as long as it’s away from, what can you assume was, the Big Bad Alpha.

More howls from them, more cries from you.

You’re able to return to the path without another spotting. It turns out you were going the wrong way when you’re also met with the narrow exit and that cursed archway. A gateway to inevitable death.  

Halfway through the gap in manic rush and you’re face to face with a beast so pale that it camouflaged with the flurry encasing you both. Eyes clear as water and almost… comforting. Even with the low rumble in its throat and one paw in front of the other in a slow, tantalizing chase. The others growl behind you, an enraged black-furred monster bleeding from its right eye socket turned quite smug now knowing that you were completely, utterly trapped.

It’s when the white wolf soundlessly drags a deep wound into your thigh while the three merely watch is when you ascertain that it is, undoubtedly, the pack leader. You fall back as the beautiful thing toys with you, snatching the front of your thick robe and shredding it with a sickening rip. You scream for the first time this entire chase, grabbing at Taehyung’s scarf in fear that it got caught along with it, caring for it more than your own life at this point.

The scream must have been piercing enough to discombobulate your attacker, it’s large ears flitting around as it jumps away from you. It’s even more of a shock when they all flee out of the divide, leaving you bleeding and too traumatized to move an inch. Whatever alarmed them devastates you even more.

The ravens caw loud and the ground vibrates. Watching the birds circle in the sky, you notice the way pebbles begin to crumble from each peak, how snow begins to over pile on such weak grounds and the way it begins to slide inward.

It’s an odd sound; snow sliding against other layers of snow and having so much weight that it pulls a few small trees with it. And this trench-like area only had so much space and you were positive the amount of white that begins to hurl towards you would fill it like a water cup; bury you with absolutely no chance of being able to dig your way out. Despite your fear, you cower at its charge and wait for the weight to hit.

 And then your head lolls back against something wonderfully warm and dry. You were completely soaked but too exhausted to shiver. In your last moments of consciousness, with your neck craned uncomfortably, you see the ground as the sky and the sky as the ground and feathers as feathers. You think of home. Think of warm summers where you would dip your feet in the riverbed. Think of bonfires with Jungkook and Jin and Hoseok and even Taehyung. But everything is still snow and you think you’re beginning to loathe each damned flake. The only comfort you find is the homeliness of the carmine red material that blows softly against your face. With that and the fleeting thought that you might be righteously transported to heaven do you finally pass out.

 Part Four

Yoongi wasn’t particularly fond of humans. Unlike his brothers and sisters that sympathized with such weak creatures enough to put their own lives at risk, it was just something he would never come around to understand. Species were organized and separated for reasons and intermingling was a curiosity that died ages ago for him.

Which is all a hypocritical contradiction when he sees you sleep soundly on his common room couch, changed into dry clothes and buried beneath a heap of duvets. Whatever had possessed him to go after you was pure impulse after the stunt you pulled on him. Prowling around on private property and, more importantly, breaking the village’s strict ritual rules. Catching him going about on what would be another unmomentous day in his schedule, creating enough of a ruckus to capture his attention, and then fleeing as a feeble mouse.

It’d be a lie if he had said he didn’t watch you scramble away down the steps from the comfort of his front door and a fresh coffee in hand, watching you stumble over nothing on your way. It was more when you had left your things like a pure imbecile, food and tools and all, and left without even waiting for the incense to finish burning. It was then that he came to the conclusion that you were incredibly clumsy and that served as entertainment to him.

The howls were his test of will. Knowing the dogs were way farther up the mountain than they normally were and supposing they had followed your poor, unfortunate soul during your trek, waiting for the perfect time to strike. And you were practically handed to them on a silver platter, considering you’d left your only knife on the cold wood of his porch.

Maybe he had come down, grumpily disturbed from his peaceful Saturday, more to save himself from cleaning the remnants of someone eaten in his vicinity more than the compassion to save you. But that was a tad bit too cruel, even for him. He thinks it was more of that uniquely curious glint in your eyes as you practically skipped into his sight. Daring enough to ignore those rather ridiculous warnings and try your luck. Delicate as a deer in hunter’s perspective. As often as he’d go out to restock supplies in neighboring towns would he never come across a visitor in his own domain. Call him quaint, but it was a mediocre surprise.

He prods the fire, making it crackle and reflame with more vigor. It had barely been a few hours since he’s saved you by the skin of his teeth, almost caught in the landslide himself.

He checks the wound on your leg once more, cleaning it again before securing it in bandages. If only he had gotten there faster, Yoongi tsks, but you’d strayed from the path and he could only follow the prints so quickly before they were covered by the flurry. By the time he found you again, you were knelt in front of the pack and submitting to your death. Had he not been on a hill, had he not been able to utilize his useless wings to glide down before the snow had claimed you first…

You groan softly, unable to roll around without a searing poker sinking into your thigh with each attempt. Contrast to the icicle state the rest of your body sported. You felt like hell. Like hell in hell guarded by those hounds. Hell in your thigh and hell in your head and hell in—

“Don’t move too fast. You have a fever and I just replaced your bandages,” a disembodied voice orders. Your eyes snap open to tall, wooden ceiling. Sitting up is your first horrible mistake, dropping back down immediately with a pained wheeze.

“I just said not to move too fast. If you can sit up normally, you should drink some water. I have some here,” it speaks again. You try again cautiously, blurry spots ruining your vision the farther up you scoot. A silhouette is kneeling beside you, maybe a cup in his hand but you’re too jumbled to confirm.

Yoongi tries his best to fold in on himself, lowering the obvious limbs stuck to his back and appear as human as possible. You wouldn’t be able to run again in your state but he tries his best to be courteous to your skittishness anyway.

“Where… Where am I?” You dazingly question. You don’t really… recall too much. Last memory somewhat muddled between your send-off and contact with those treacherous wolves, very few in between and serving no importance if you couldn’t remember how it ended.

“You’re safe in my house. In the mountains still. You passed out pretty good out there, been out for a bit. Now drink.”

It’s easy to do as your told with you’re running off little brainpower, downing the water hastily.

The voice scolds, “Hey, slow.”

At some point, you can see again. The blankets that cover you and the large room you inhabit. Of course, the seraph from earlier that awaits by your seat. His seat. But you feel no urgency to scurry into safety. You were discombobulated, sure, but you knew enough that this man was kind enough to bring you into his home and care for you. So you fold back the material slowly and watch his face contort into confusion as you try to stand.

“I’ll be on my way. I’m sorry to have bothered you. Thank you for treating me.”

“Woah now. You’re in no condition to be standing. Besides, the path is blocked. Snow was too heavy and caused a slide. I doubt it’ll clear until the spring,” he informs, looking out the window as if to drag your own attention to it. The snow stopped but it’s fallen a few feet, at least. The path, you remember, chased by wolves and led into an ice trap. The few split moments in which the man must have scooped you up before your demise, remnants of being carried back towards his estate.

His place, in which is even more amazing inside than it was outside, a luxurious wooden mansion of sorts, tall and spacious and filled with those incredible windows that displayed better than you could have ever dreamed. The man himself that sits beside you draws full attention. Despite his position, he was large and still intimidating as the moment you crossed sights for the first time. Hair matching his wings in dark palette, soft and delicate looking. His face anything but, sharp eyes and thick brows, lips that curved into a simper. Above all, he looked more human. Even as radiant and prepossessing as he was, if the cape of wings didn’t follow him where he went he would look just as human as the rest of the population.

“Are you a seraph?” You ask dumbly. Dumb, because he laughs and because he obviously is.

“Are you a human, pretty thing?” He retorts. There’s no condescending lilt to his words but it makes him seem otherworldly to you. With such a provoking question and your lightheadedness, he seemed a blessing to be inhabiting such an earth.

You melt into the cushions once more, leg throbbing and eyes heavy. You watch his wings as they bob with his breath, “They say it’s bad luck to lay eyes on the wings of an angel…”

“Why would that be?,” he scrunches his nose, maybe a little appalled by the idea, “Such a misleading myth. Besides, I’m no angel.”

You don’t know why he stands to leave the room after that, unnoticing how you fall back into sedation a minute later.

 Part Five

You wake with clarity. Check your thigh to find it almost completely healed over except a now lingering scar. All’s left is a dull soreness but god it felt so much better. Enough to stand and stretch in the empty room. Enough to coherently realize that you only wear your underwear while the rest of your garments hang torn and sadly on the fireplace screen. It’s not as unbecoming if it had to be done for the sake of your health and wellbeing, right?

Getting dressed is easy when you don’t even bother with your robe, the gash decreeing it useless and instead tying Taehyung’s scarf around your shoulders as a shawl over your tank. You’re lucky it didn’t get torn.

There’s a fleeting moment where you really think you miss Tae, feeling a little regretful to being so afraid of his proposal in light of the recent accident. You’re sure he must be worried sick; must think you’ve perished under the debris and snow if he’s come to look for you. As his best friend, you solemnly wish he was here to hug you close and promise that it would all be okay. To fend off your shame and welcome you back into the village with teary eyes and a warm smile.

“Ah, human. You’re awake.”

You whip around to discover fox eyes in the door frame, poorly lit now that it’s nighttime. The moonlight pairs well with how it sits on his milky skin, almost something out of a painting.

“It’s Y/N. Not ‘human’.” You answer a little sharper than you mean. He notices too, quick to wave it off since he really had popped up out of nowhere. He tries your name once on his own tongue, a satisfying thing to say.

“Pleased to meet you. I’m Min Yoongi, in case you don’t want to call me seraph all the time.”

You suddenly grab your thigh, rubbing it over your pants in questionable disbelief, “How long have I been asleep? My leg is almost fully healed…”

He rubs at his eye, a little nonchalant about the scene at hand, “Only overnight and throughout the day today. It’s probably quarter to nine about now. I had medicine to help your cuts heal over nicely. Call it, uh, advanced seraph technology.”

The gashes hadn’t been incredibly deep to begin with, thankfully not going any further than the first layer of skin and just really causing some bleeding, but it was still amazing. The feeling is short lived. Even if only a day, you’ve overstayed your welcome.

“Thank you, um, Mr. Min. For saving my life and everything after that. I’d like to repay you sometime. But for now I’m afraid I should be heading back, I’ve stayed for too long. I’m sure I can find some way over the path.”

It dawns on you that Yoongi is a little facetious, especially when he purrs a, “Well you can do whatever your little heart desires, but I’m here to remind you that there is no path. Here, look out the window.”

You do, tiny bit distracted when he stands by you to point out the ridges of the mountains that surround you. “See those? How they curve in towards the top and how it sort of resembles a bowl? This area was made only for seraphs to get in and out of generations ago; flight only. Trying to climb it would be suicide on both sides. The path that goes through was strictly for human use, and if that’s blocked, there’s no way out, little one.” You weren’t the shortest in your village but Yoongi truly was massive, both lanky and filled-out somehow. Like there’s underlying strength to his lean build. You’re sure if you were to stand directly in front of him, the top of your head would barely surpass his sharp shoulders.

You disregard his name for you, a bit annoyed at this point, “Could you not fly me over the pass?”

Yoongi repeats in disbelief of such a daring request, “Fly… You over the pass… No. I’m sorry. I won’t do that. If you truly want to figure it out, you should do so soon. It's storm season."

Gritting your teeth, you express your discontent for once. What did he save you for, then? For points? You didn't know members of the almighty seraph clan were so keen to half-completed deeds. "And why not? Wouldn't you rather I be on my way? What am I supposed to do if I can't leave?"

"You forget yourself, Y/N. Did I not save your life? Chase after you and save you from being crushed? Buried alive?" He takes a second to straighten himself out, aware of how you look to your feet in frustration.

"Hey," he starts again, "I know you'd like to go home. I only tell you the truth of your situation in its entirety. If I could fly you over the pass I would but unfortunately, I'm out of commission."

You feel heat in your face, embarrassed of the way you address a complete stranger even after all the things he's done for you. But this was frankly a sticky situation to find yourself in, trapped and unable to get Yoongi to help you any further. Though you do wonder what he means by his last statement...

"I'm... I'm sorry. I don't mean to make demands. I'm just scared and in a place I'm not used to and I'm not quite sure what I'm to do from here. Is there no one else who can help me over?"

Yoongi averts his gaze before he shakes his head, "I'm the last one in this country."

That's even more odd to hear but you don't prod for information that isn't yours to learn.

In silence, you contemplate the work that even went into carrying another human body by use of wings that were structurally built for the owner's own weight and possibly nothing else. Now was not the time to be ignorant.

“What am I supposed to do?” You mumble weakly. Yoongi watches your gears turn warily, stress surely beating down on you.

He rubs his neck, ruffles his left wing, “Listen. I promise I’ll help you back come spring. You won’t be able to make a dent in the landslide as long as it continues to build with snow every night.” He tends to forget that humans are pack animals, often lost without one another and feeble in the hands of species not of their own.

Your doe eyes, beginning to well with tears, convince him over tenfold, “I’ll help you in any way possible to pay you back for all the things you’ve done. I know I’ve caused nothing but trouble but if you have the room, is it possible I stay here?”

And Yoongi had enough vacant rooms to house a whole herd of deer now that he’s been alone for these sum of years. It really was no trouble… and he could make use of you as long as you stayed. His brow shoots up, “You can stay.”

Your grin is enough to light the whole room encased in night’s darkness, looking back down to the ground now knowing you had some hope to hold onto in such an eventful day. A whisper of a thank you Mr. Min is thrown in and Yoongi can feel his fists tighten.

He clears his throat, standing a little taller than he already is and acting strict, “But there are some rules. And you can just call me by my first name.”

 Part Six

 It's always a little weird trying to adjust to new scenery. Though your past experiences have been anticlimactically different than this; not exactly the first time visiting a friend's house or dropping off delivered goods from Seokjin's shop and awkwardly facing an elder who forces you to stay for tea.

Yoongi had shown you around the areas you needed to know. Offered you the closest room to the main part of the house with a king bed, fresh sheets and your own majestic window to stare out of. The living room which you had rested in before and the kitchen, grand and spacious just like everything else. He showed you a greenhouse out back that was utterly ginormous. Stone walkways and a hot compost keeping it from freezing, rows of plants you both have and haven't witnessed before. And again, he showed you what you needed to know.

That goes onto the chores he assigned you as long as you stay, to help him clean come Sundays and manage the plants throughout the week which served as no problem. At least with horticulture you proved some use, struggling throughout the weekend to do anything else but cause Yoongi a bit of a headache.

Tuesday rolls around and Yoongi stops by your room with stationary. Tells you he has a messenger bird to deliver any letters you desire to send home and you hop on the opportunity quicker than the landslide had tried to eat you up.

Of course, it was an exceptionally long letter. Longer than the papers Yoongi had given to you and he had to fetch more when you looked absolutely devastated sitting at your desk. You began with the simple phrase, "I'm okay." Filling it with a volley of explanations and apologies, how you were nearly killed, how the seraph had scooped you up to safety and how you inhabit his home now until further notice. You write how you talk, sure the recipients are sure to read in hushed mumbles and run-on sentences. You explain that there's no use to try to get home now while the clouds continue to precipitate and gate your only exit from the bowl-like wonderland. You end with how you miss them already, a request to send back an update or two every once in awhile, and a final wish to have a happy winter without you (though you're sure they won't appreciate that joke).

You think, if they really receive the letter, how terribly furious they'll be with you. Taehyung and Jungkook will probably come hiking up the mountain to try to put a dent in the debris and fail miserably. Your aunts and how they must feel even the tiniest bit of guilt for thinking you so small and helpless. Mina and her jealous wonder that you've done it now, how you've seen a seraph before her and you're positive she'll have a flurry of questions when you return. When you return.

You come out onto the balcony to pay your respects to your so-called "messenger", pretty white thing large and wide-eyed. Humorous is the familiar to another winged being, bird of a feather, you chuckle to yourself. Yoongi pays no attention when he murmurs directions to the bird and sends it off, straight in the direction you were hoping.

Thursday and you think you finally have your routine down. No longer unsure in the hallways and able to sit when your work is done without feeling completely out of place. It's only when you're around the other member of the cabin do you feel a little subdued, reminding you that you burden him and quickly finding something to do out of that guilt.

❋

Today you feel a bit sluggish. You drag yourself down the corridor, opting for the bath until you see a dark head in an open room. Yoongi sits in his study, presumably reading with his back facing you. You can't say you've seen this room before, ceilings just as tall and walls just lined with books, journals, art pieces and things of the like.

"You can come in," he snickers suddenly, maybe feeling the heat from your eyes boring into the back of his head and warming the space entirely.

"This is amazing... Your collection, I mean." You force yourself down in a chair, hands trapped underneath your thighs in case they feel like touching anything.

"Thank you. It took quite a bit of time to build it up. Not by myself, of course."

It makes you ponder. If he's mentioned his state of loneliness twice, then your questions were expected.

"There were more, right? Family of yours? Why are you the only one left?"

"One question at a time, yeah?" He swivels around and takes off a pair of reading glasses that you would have liked to inspect on his face a bit more, "I can't leave because I can't fly, remember? They left because they held no other duty tied to this land. That's all."

You quiet. He returns to reading whatever it is on his flat desk. "Why can't you fly?"

"Because I was hurt."

"How were you hurt?"

"Next question."

"What are you reading?"

"A story of a girl with a terrible habit of too many inquiries."

"You know, I loved to read when I was a kid. All kinds of things. Novels, studies, maps even. Now I never have the time for such pleasantries." A wistful sigh leaves your lips.

Yoongi eyes you beneath his lashes, watches as you survey the room with giddiness and hands taut underneath your bum. "Why's that?"

You frown, "Too many things to do. Jobs and cleaning and family and stress. If I have time to read, I have time to be doing something more important."

His lips curl, amused at this little play-thing in his room. Like a child scolded all her life, whining and pouting in front of a stranger. Yoongi stands tall and shrugs his sweater tighter around him, "Well then, you'd better hop to it."

"Hm?" You squeak, chewing on your lip when you meet his eyes. So innocent.

"You only have the winter to read these. I'd get started soon. After work is done and you want to poke around in here, feel free to do so. Take them to your room if you'd like, just please return them."

And he swears he sees damn stars in your eyes before he turns and leaves the room. He hears your immediate footing once he's halfway to his room, little yelps of excitement enough as his thanks. Yoongi can't help but smirk, eventually floating away and speaking way out of earshot for you to hear.

"Nothing is more important than the things you want."

 Part Seven

 After a month, you find it a little boring. After receiving a teary letter of how your family misses you, not one ounce of scold or chastisement more than it was just wholesome relief to see familiar handwriting, their only wish was for you to stay obedient and not write so often as to waste poor Yoongi's paper. It was typical, somewhat stress-relieving. And that was that.

It was often you spent your quiet interest reading of botany and romance (in what little you found of it) preferably in his study on days he's holed up in his room. At this point, he still remains somewhat of a mysterious entity, conversing when he must and accidentally showing his face once or twice like a ghost. The only times you really see him are for Sundays with idle chit chat.

One particular evening you find an old, ratty recipe book. Handwritten and falling at the seams and that's how you know that there are some golden tips in there for you to test out.

You choose pumpkin bread. Something to warm the palette while ice continues to build outside. And working in Yoongi's kitchen by yourself was oddly fulfilling, no one to correct you or send you off to another job if you fail to do the first. It's probably why your bread turns out perfect, slicing the loaf and placing a piece on a small plate for a friend.

Rather, someone you'd like to establish as a friend.

You haven't seen him once today; not odd but a little lonely. Pacing on the carpets and looking for an open door with any sign of a sly angelic being. Even after a month, it's the first time you've freely made something with intents of sharing with him. Was that rude of you?

Coming upon a jarred entrance, you speak softly, "Yoongi? Are you in there?"

No reply.

You clear your throat and toe the door open just enough to stand in its frame, "Yoongi? I made some pumpkin bread for us—"

Thank your soft voice does it not wake him, still a snoring log in a bed even larger than yours. His limbs sprawled widely, laying on his stomach and breath soft and slow. Sleeping in the middle of the day while his guest slaves over the stove must be quite nice, huffing subtly and placing his plate on his night desk. Sure to be spoiled even more when he wakes to a treat.

As you turn, your eyes can't help but dawdle over the expanse of his wings. One covering a naked back and one hanging off the side of the bed, a marbling effect of muddled sepias and ink blacks, occasional golden ochre pigments seeping through the deepest layers of feathers. It was utterly breathtaking. This has to be one of the first opportunities you've had to inspect them so, equating staring at his monstrously large wings the same as blatantly staring at his junk.

You draw close like a moth to a damn flame, checking to assure he's still sound asleep. Reaching delicate fingers, you dare to lay a palm on the mass. It's surprisingly strong, an odd firmness as you slide your hand down silky plains and watch as the feathers ripple by your touch.

Then, as if you weren't dumb enough to foretell the upcoming events, he wakes.

A whirl of darkness encases you, whips you around so fast that you see stars in the middle of day, completely flipped and pinned to the bed beneath you. The intense heaviness makes you recoil, unable to budge your wrists and legs with Yoongi's strength.

And his face of unadulterated fury is one that would be ingrained into your memories forever. Pupils dilated and nose scrunched like prey warding off predator. Yoongi was surprised to say the least, a scared frenzy of confusion as he growls down at you.

"What were you doing, human?"

Your weeping gains no mercy, "Ow, you're, you're hurting me!"

"What the fuck were you doing?" He spits.

Incoherence is not what he asks for but that's all you can give, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I won't touch them again I was just—"

His wings which were so beautiful to you before, makes you feel nothing but fear now, flapping angrily as he keeps his balance and shrouding you in shallow lack of light. When he lets up on his grip, you gasp like he also held your breath. Immediate relief streams through your blood, though he continues to trap you between his thighs. He asks you again and you sob.

"You know what happened the last time I let one of your kind close? Nearly fucking killed me for no reason. You know why I can't take you down the mountain? Why I'm stuck here by myself? Because a goddamn human stole my ability to fly. I can't fly anymore, do you understand me? That's all that I was and they took it!"

Yoongi sees the pity etching onto your face like some sort of charity case. With your pathetic excuse for tears that claim to sympathize with him and it makes the bile in his throat grow. As for you, you could have never imagined such a travesty. Those words that seem to bounce around in your skull, to be wholesomely one thing and to be rid of it by someone else's doing, you could never relate to that.

You itch to relieve his pain in some way as if he never lashed out on you to begin with. Like you were the one truly at fault here even though you know it's a two-way situation. Your hands struggle to not touch his face, to attempt to alleviate those dark, regretful feelings. "Yoongi, I'm so sorry. I would never—I would have never known--I'm from one of the villages where we look up to the—"

"Yeah, well I don’t trust people," He cracks, lungs filled with muddled sorrow.

Both of your breathing is ragged. He takes his leave off your body and sits on the edge of the bed, wings lamely drooped.

"Leave." So you do.

 Part Eight

 You find the most beautifully carved wooden bow the next morning. Sun barely risen and adventuring around in nooks you haven't looked through before. You find it, accompanied by plenty of arrows, leaning against the wall right outside the backdoor. Though it's been months since you've last hunted, you ache to make use of yourself. Wearing bundled layers of the clothes Yoongi let you borrow from what was left and bounding through the condensed areas of the woods behind the cabin.

Food isn't scarce to hunt for, you've come to realize. Rabbits abundant and easy to kill once you got the hang of it once more. Two are struck and red seeps through white. You always sink your knees into the ground after each kill, whispering your thanks before you move back to the house.

Taehyung's father had taught you the basics of hunting and fishing and everything that came after that. Skinning and cooking and preserving the flesh something everyone in the village should learn to do, he had said. Even after your mistakes, even after your hesitation for your first kill, he'd always pat you on the back and reward you with the first bite of fresh food.

You miss them all, especially now. It wouldn't be long until you saw them again with maybe a bit of heightened skills. You hope they'll be proud of you.

Yoongi wakes a little after you're finished cooking the first rabbit. He stumbles in quiet and groggy, as if having no recollection of the previous altercation. But he doesn't speak, doesn't so much as look your direction before he plops at the head of the dining room table and begins to sulk in an odd inner-turmoil state.

You wait a minute or two by garnishing the meat unnecessarily; perhaps he was waiting to say something. To apologize. To ask questions. To kick you out once and for all. Well, you'll beat him to it then.

You set his plate down in front of him, the jarring sound breaking his trance enough where he can finally meet your face.

"I hope you don't mind I used your bow. I cleaned the arrows afterward and put it back where I found it," you hesitate. "I appreciate your kindness thus far; to take me in like this. I was a complete stranger and you gave me shelter anyway, so I thank you. I've packed and cleaned and I—I think it's time I leave now. I'll find a way to get over, I don't care. And I'm, I'm so sorry for all the trouble I've caused, Yoongi. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable but I overstepped my boundary way too far yesterday and I apologize profusely."

You find that you dig your nails into your palms as you talk, head craned parallel to the floor and you wonder if Yoongi could even hear you when you were so rudely speaking to the rugs.

"Stop, you don't... You don't have to leave. There's still no way you can get over the snow." He massages the back of his neck, tense in his own skin.

"I'm so sorry," you repeat. "I let my stupid curiosity get the best of me and I can very clearly see how that made you feel alarmed and uneasy and—"

He cuts you off, "You know the myth, right? How it's bad luck to see a seraph's wings?"

Confused, you nod.

"It's not literal. It's a metaphor that it's bad luck to see our vulnerabilities. Our faults. Years and years and years ago, when the war was still active, I got mixed up with a human. Within enemy boundaries. I was naive and trusting and they made use of that. They sought out my weaknesses, ate 'em up and covered my suspicions with false adoration and love," he says the word like it's an illness, "But then. But then one night, they put something in my water. Drugged me. Something was wrong and I didn't fully go under. I suppose their original plan was to take me, probably torture me as a prisoner. But I caught on and still had a bit of composure and when they realized the drugs didn't work, they sought to kill me instead. Used a dagger and plunged it into my back as hard as they could. Right," he reaches an arm behind and massages a spot, "Right in the cross-section of where all four wings meet. I should have been paralyzed but we're tough. I can still move them but I haven't been able to fly since. Thank heavens I wasn't killed but..."

You can tell by the way that there’s no emotion in his statement, how true it rings, "That day, I might as well have been."

You wipe the pools of tears with your scarf, heartbroken for the shattered man that sat in front of you. Having to bear the sight of his wings every day and full-knowing he would never be able to use them again.

His voice croaks, "In their eyes, my own family's eyes, I commit a sin just by making such a fool of myself. The war ended and I was punished. They left me here and claimed loneliness is what I deserve."

Yoongi then realizes he sounds as if he's trying to justify yesterday's actions and literally sinks to the ground, "This isn't supposed to be a pity party. I just thought you might want to know why I am the way I am and how I had no right to snap like I did. I know you're from the north most village. And that you would never try to do what they did and I was wrongfully paranoid."

Then, out of all things unexpected, he grabs a bare ankle and lifts it out of the length of your dress. When you hobble, he grabs your gentle hand with his other to balance you. He can see the marks he left, not too dark but enough to tell and he can't help but despise himself. In pure remorse, he presses his lips softly to each bruise, not lingering for more than a second, before cowering to the ground with his head low.

"My sincerest apologies, Y/N. You don't have to leave if you don't want to. I prefer if you wouldn't. I'd like to get to know you and redeem myself, as selfish as that may seem. Maybe, until spring, I can make up for the things I've said and done—"

You sputter, voice too high and full of embarrassment as you struggle to pull him up, "Please! P-Please get up! I am at fault here! Don't kneel, please! You have nothing to make up for!"

Mouth agape and eyes wide, he watches you yell your affirmations and weakly tug on his arm. It was like watching a little kid throw a fit and that makes him chuckle aloud, how could he have ever suspected you as harmful? When your large eyes shed tears like no other and you impulsively make decisions for others before yourself. You were kind and he could see that. He laughs hard and you stop your squawking.

In disbelief you fall to your knees right beside him, looking plain stupid while you're at it. It occurs to you that you've never heard him laugh like this, smile so wide that his eyes crescent endearingly and it just lights up the room. After watching his handsome face radiate forgiving happiness, you join in too.

You eat rabbit together. The conversations from there on out easier to come up with, more emotional and found in the midst of tranquil understanding. Like you now shared a bit more of each other than before.

Occasionally, you think of all the sadness he must have accumulated until now. Of the things that happened to him that shouldn't have, and those years of isolation and abandonment that he suffered. But now you realize, too, how he's able to laugh and continue on despite those melancholy winters in a desolate place that he once called home. How it's all he can do as his only sign that he's still alive.

 Part Nine

The weeks after that seem to breeze past you; time racing when you have more things to do and someone to do it with. Yoongi really meant it when he said he would try to make up for his past harshness; never daring to miss a meal, spending more time in the livelier rooms if it meant that it was to accompany you, going as far as helping you out with your own chores if he hadn’t taken them over entirely. It was a polar opposite of who you knew before.

The first time he joined you to hunt again, in favor of how you had cooked his meat the last time, he layered himself in clothing that made his appearance softer than you’d ever imagined. Leaning towards darker garments that contrasted against his opalescent skin.

In some haughty attempt to show off your archery skills do you aim for a squirrel in a less-than-mediocre angle, letting the arrow fly without a second thought and piercing good ol’ trunk. Yoongi had a fabulous time laughing at your mishap, yanking the wasted arrow from the bark and handing it back to you.

“That was a horrible shot,” he said.

The temperature of your cheeks could have melted the snow, taking the thing with shaky, embarrassed hands, “I was being hasty.”

“You got two rabbits. I know you’re good. Let me just show you some things.”

You walked behind, letting him tread through the snow first so it was easier for you to fall into his prints.

“There. Squirrel,” he whispered. Probably the same one, mindlessly crawling up and down trees like target practice.

“Let me see your form again.” You aimed, self-conscious and probably showed it. You shivered when he swiped a hand under your grip arm, pushing it back.

“Keep it aligned with how the arrow is facing. Completely centered. You can widen your feet a little too,” his voice soft. “Don’t completely lock your elbow but tighten your back muscles before you hold. Does that make sense?”

“Mm. It won’t stop moving though, the squirrel.”

“Watch this.”

Then Yoongi had dug through the snow for a small stone with enough weight to throw. Aiming for a far tree to the right, he tossed just hard enough to cause a knock to echo in its vicinity. The squirrel halts, presumably looking for what caused the noise in its unknowing last thoughts.

“Shoot.”

And it landed perfectly.

He watched you silently each time you had knelt next to the victim and mutter your thanks, both sorrowful and appreciative. It was the first time he ever witnessed someone, frankly, talking to dead animals and at some point he asked you why you did so. You responded with a giggle, briefly claiming how all living creatures deserve the same respect, to be mourned, to not be wasted. Yoongi finds interest in the concept of valuing each as their own and of the same importance in the Grand Circle of Life, probably something his family would never have stopped to think about. The seraphs had always placed themselves above others in a deserving, self-righteous kind of way. It made him think.

❋

A particularly windy night and you caught him in the seat of his study's window, drawn to the mirage of colliding trees and listening to the croaks of the house on its plot. A muddled bottle sat on his desk, its glass counterpart being twirled in his hand.

"Do you like storms?" You asked.

"I didn't used to," he answered, unfazed by your sudden entrance, "Caused problems a lot of times. But I think they're pretty fun nowadays. And you?"

"I like when there's thunder and lightning."

Yoongi faced you at that, your twiddling fingers and the way you scanned the dim room.

"Would you like to join me for a drink?" Although it was a question he poured you one anyway, barely anything more than a few sips worth. Obliging, you took the liquid. Pride a little stung in all honesty, pretty aware of your high tolerance.

He tittered, "Don't pout. You can pour as much as you'd like. But this stuff is ancient, concocted from poison and the desire of Death itself. Watch yourself."

It was always a trait of yours to take on a challenge, though, ignoring his warning and foolishly gulping it down. The burn was subtle despite its awful, awful taste, yet you poured another and let Yoongi watch you spiral down the rabbit hole.

Two stories and one half-glass later and you draped yourself very unladylike on his desk, too warm and too moist and too loud.

"Yoongi..."

"Yes?"

"Min... Min. Mr. Yoongi."

"That's wrong but that's me."

"Yoongi you have to keep a secret. That I'm going to tell you! From Yoo—from Yoongi!"

"Wait, that you're trying to keep a secret from me or—"

You must had forgotten, instead focused on bunching your skirt and tying it higher up your thighs, "Soooo hot. Too warm. I'm going to leave it like this, ‘kay?"

"You don't have to pass it by me. They're your clothes," he said, biting back laughter. His accidental peak of pretty, bare legs could have made him think different though. Reverting his gaze back out the window, he wouldn't have been surprised to see lightning that night.

Taking his eyes off you wasn't his best idea. Hobbled out of his chair and sneaking to his place with hands buried in feathers before he could shy away. Yet the wonder stained your eyes with childlike amusement and he wouldn't dare change that face. So he idled in a flustered mess, relaxed in the way you unknowingly massaged his muscles.

"Pretty wings, Mr. Yoongi... Can I touch them?" You asked stupidly. Yoongi grumbled.

When you finished evaluating, you swiveled awkwardly and tripped over his knee, a yelp escaping your lips as if he wouldn't catch you in one swift motion and onto the safety of his lap. Yoongi could smell the bite of alcohol that stained your breath; could see how swollen and red and beautiful it had made your gentle face. The proximity was deadly and your innocent, apologetic features could have slain him right then and there. You didn't even make another peep, eyes drooped in what he assumed was embarrassment for your clumsiness.

In which he thought wrong, your hands slapping each side of his face and squishing it together horrifically. "Pretty face, Mr. Yoongi."

"Alright, time for bed."

You fought all the way until he tucked you in, out with soft breaths and sprawled arms. Even after he had laid you down to rest and calmed back in his lair, there was no slowing the fondness that grew in his ribs.

❋

You don’t know when you’ve started looking forward to Sundays, springing out of bed in the morning with a green thumb and a will to dig, or so you imagine. You knew Yoongi would be waiting for you in the greenhouse and spent a little extra time rinsing your face, doing your hair, and double-checking nothing was in your teeth.

Yoongi was already checking the pots when you had gotten there, wrapped in black per usual and winking as you walked by. The familiarity by now was tangible. There was always a nice flow to your conversations and Yoongi doesn’t back away when you naturally find yourself in his space like he used to. It was both a prideful accomplishment and an endearing new relationship that sparked joy every time you were able to do something together. To step back and see the difference over your time spent here, the things you’ve done, and the way Yoongi warms up slowly.

He watches you mindlessly hum as you harvest what you can, voice soothing when most times it would have been dead quiet. That’s what it felt like being around you: like a void suddenly filled, his whole being gravitating to your aura. You were addicting, if he had to admit.

The scarf, somehow pristine despite how often you wear it, is shuffled up your neck as you do one thing or another. Like a constant reminder that it’s there, you always feel the need to touch it.

Yoongi points to it, “Did you make that yourself?”

“Hm?” You follow his line of sight and crumple the red thing in your hands, “Ah! No. It… It was a gift.”

“Ooh, from a suitor?” He doesn’t mean any harm when he jests but it prompts the things you’ve left at home. No matter how much you’ve tried to suppress it down and not nitpick on the responsibilities you’ll have to return to. Awful as it seems, it makes you take notice to the sun and how it begins to peak out more with every day. You push the thought down once more.

Instead you laugh nervously. Yoongi knows immediately when you say nothing but, “Mmm…”

His gut twists from a melting of surprise and disappointment. How could he be so dim? To not even hypothesize the mere possibility of someone else being in your life. Though the feeling weighs heavy on his head, he speaks lightly and with a smirk.

“You must miss him then.”

“Yes. Of course. We’ve known each other since birth and have been best friends for as long as I can remember!” You chuckle, “He gave this to me right before I left and claimed we could get married once I returned. I was so shocked that I made myself sick thinking about going back. Just nervous, I suppose.” Taehyung, as expected, never said anything in the occasional letter updates to you. He meant it when he said he would only wait to talk about it for when you came home but you ponder how he feels now; what he’s been doing. If he’s changed his mind once he’s realized how incapable you are that you couldn’t even do the Offering correctly, but you know that isn’t true. Maybe just wishful thinking.

You throw dead leaves in the compost and Yoongi eyes you.

“’Shocked’? It’s not something you’ve been looking forward to?”

You look down, “It’s not that I—I don’t know! I just have seen him as family for so long and then there’s this sudden proposal without even talking about it beforehand… And everyone expects it. For me to just be married and have a family and all of that but I just, I just don’t see that for me so soon.” Your words begin to jumble and Yoongi hasn’t seen you so stressed within the span of twenty seconds before.

“Forgive me and my input but isn’t the most important thing what you want? You could just turn down his proposal,” He suggests like it’s the easy answer, hoping you don’t suspect a hopeful tone in there.

“Does it really matter what I want?” You stop to think about the people who matter to you and what would ease their minds most when it comes to your future. Marrying Taehyung seemed like the only option. “I can’t turn him down simply because I don’t want to. That’s selfish.”

“That doesn’t make very much sense to me.”

“Well,” you sigh, “in the village it’s courtesy to accept a marriage proposal regardless of how you feel. It’s the receiver’s obligation to be grateful towards—”

“Is that how humans treat their women?” Yoongi spits, agitated just by the thought. He leans against a table next to you, arms crossed like he’s simply not having it, “To ignore your own say and force you to think you should just be appreciative? That’s some bullshit.”

“It’s not as serious as I’m making it seem it’s just…” You think of your aunts and the elders and Taehyung’s mom. How you’ve grown into a nuisance, lacking here or there. The time where you were supposed to return to the village after a successful Offering and marry and finally be someone to be proud of. “In my case, especially, it’s probably better off I’m just someone’s wife. I’ve never been much to begin with.”

And that’s truly heartbreaking for Yoongi to hear, so much that he becomes enraged with whatever twisted society you grew up in, “Y/N. What have you been doing these last few months?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I mean, what have you been doing? Just sitting around? Watching me sweep circles around you? Serve your meals on a silver platter and draw your baths? No, because you’ve been doing that yourself. For yourself. By yourself.” The look of confusion on your face causes him to huff before he continues. “Sure, you were a little rough around the edges with some things but who isn’t? You hunt, you cook, you read like no other, you do a lot of great things and it’s not because you’re trying to do it right. You do it right when you like what you’re doing.”

“Yoongi, I understand. Thank you but you don’t have to—”

He walks toward you, lecturing on. “I know it’s by unwanted circumstances. But has your time here been horrible? Have you despised being here and doing these things?”

Your answer is immediate, “No. Not at all.”

“Has it not been nice to have your own space and do things simply because you want to? Because you were thinking of yourself?”

“I-It has been… I don’t know where you’re getting at.”

Your legs hit the corner of another table and you notice he’s backed you up into it.

“So, you go back and you do what you want like you have here. Don’t worry about what they think. Wait until you’re ready. Marry for absolute, unwavering love. Be a little selfish,” Yoongi hooks your chin with his index and props it up. You didn’t even realize you were looking to the ground. “Look up.”

Your heart stammers, “But Taehyung…”

So Taehyung is his name, Yoongi thinks. He frankly does not care.

“Do you love him?”

“W-What?

“Perhaps I was mistaken. Do you want to marry Taehyung because you truly love him?”

You see his lips before you hear his words, parted and nearing you bit by bit. So close that you feel his warmth, aching to close the distance. “I…”

A shovel clatters onto the stone and Yoongi removes his arm that’s found its way around your back, shuffles backwards and lets your hand fall from his face. It was natural to touch him, you realize, unaware that you feel distant and cold when he’s away.

Yoongi picks the damn thing up and curses. It wasn’t like him to be so forward, close to doing the unimaginable to you. You, who was involved with someone else. Heading towards the door, he ruffles his wings like he’s restarting.

“Forget I said that,” he requests, “I’m going to wash up.”

You nod, frozen in your spot with legs too unstable to dare walk. Without even knowing you had reached for him, so close to doing something you’ve only been secretly daydreaming about of recent and how incredibly wrong it was for you to think this way. But in another sense, you would feel worse lying to yourself by saying you weren’t attracted to the seraph. It was a twisted contradiction of emotions and you could scream.

Needless to say, you don’t see Yoongi until the next day, and even then nothing is mentioned of the almost.

Part Ten

On Tuesday, the bird returns with a letter from your family and Taehyung. It’s brief, with evident relief that the snow is melting and how happy they’ll be to see your face. Your heart sinks at how much you miss them yet how angry you are to receive the letter. To what extent would they be happy to have you home? Until you dare humiliate Taehyung when you turn him down? To dishonor your name and his parents and gain the glances of people who care more about your failures?

You calm and shoo such immature feelings away. Yoongi is confused when you don’t send a letter back and you return to your room early that night.

❋

You haven’t had a full night’s rest that entire week. You’re sure Yoongi notices the tension and that makes you feel horrible, but the lingering necessity to run to him and never go back to the village is too prominent to just face head on.

He’s been checking the trail every day, making dents on the softer parts of the snow when he can and updating you when he returns. You know he doesn’t want you to leave and you know he thinks you feel the same. Maybe it would have been better if you hadn’t said anything about the proposal that day.

Flipped onto your back, you stare at the ray of moonlight that floats atop your bed. You would miss it here, so much that it hurts your throat. You would miss the windows, the kitchen, the greenhouse, the library that Yoongi was happy to share. It goes without saying that you would miss him the most.

Unprompted imaging of a possible future with him interrupt your thoughts, something so uncertain and fortuitous in comparison to the stone-set fate you have now. What the stoic seraph would think if you just asked him to stay a little longer, until you know you would never leave. The landslide and how much you had hated that unfortunate event seems so insignificant now, replaced with a dimmed appreciation for this life detour, no matter how short lived it will end up.

You’re probably on the verge of sleeping now, thinking of the incident and it’s wild connection to your present out of pure lunacy. You could bet your entire existence on the fact that you were meant to meet him; your entrapment by the snow no mere coincidence. Neither was Yoongi’s endless solitude atop this mountain. It had to be fate that you two were to meet at this moment and your heart feels it so strongly.

Even for you this could be too far-fetched, or maybe you were just trying to cover up the way your heart is undoubtingly falling for Min Yoongi.

 Final Part

 You prod the logs, provoking them to catch more of the fire. In your last night do you decide to pour a glass of wine, kneel on a pile of blankets and snack on the charcuterie board you made for yourself. In the past, you used to be so hesitant about helping yourself to the manor’s amenities, having no problem doing it now.

The lame, weak fire is your only source of light in the large living room, clouds blocking the moon from shining through. You feel, immaturely, just as cloudy. Set in your intentions to leave your feelings locked away as to not cause more trouble, confusion, and inevitable heartbreak.

“You look quite comfortable,” Yoongi surprises you and he can tell when you jolt. Speaking of the devil. He looks great in the dark too, leaning against a wooden pillar with folded arms.

“Well, it feels like I’ve lived here for quite a bit. Just,” you break to sigh with exaggeration, “soaking it in before I leave. Too beautiful to not.”

If not for the crackling between the wood, it’d be dead quiet.

“Would you like to join me?”

He titters, rolling his eyes before he walks your way. Laying on his side, you offer him your glass. “I hope you don’t mind that I used the wine from the ritual contents. With the stuff you normally drink, this must be nothing.”

“Like water to me but I’ll enjoy it nonetheless.”

You cheers to nothing with one glass to share. Occasionally picking off meat and fruit from the board and enjoying how the fire builds up.

“Your family will be so happy to see you.”

You hum. You suppose they would. Avoiding the bitterness you still associate with the thought.

“And I’m sure Taehyung will be too.” He says a little clipped. Not in a way to be facetious or sarcastic but because he feels the need to address it.

Yoongi is caught on the carmine scarf again, downing the rest of your poor wine.

Forcing a smile, you speak faintly, “Let’s not talk about that.”

At this point you both know. He nods to keep you happy, but there is no hiding or pretending. In front of the flames, your lies and justifications seem to melt away unspoken. Changing the subject, you shove him lightly, “You’ll miss me when I’m gone. I don’t think you’ll ever learn to bake as well as I do.”

He tuts, which is refreshing. “I’m great at cooking and baking, I’ll have you know. It was just nice having someone else do it for once.” You feign betrayal and scoff aloud. He mumbles low, “But I’ll miss you for more reasons than that.”

And he breaks an unmade promise not to bring it up again. Feeling the need to throw it out in the open and even with the simplicity of admitting that he’ll miss you, you really know what he means. The seraph feels for you. He feels deeply. Yoongi doesn’t expect a response, just pops more food in his mouth and rests his eyes.

You contemplate, following suit with a bite to a grape and thinking hard. What to do. What to say. How to say it if you did. You weren’t supposed to feel this way and it goes way beyond the rule of even coming in contact with a seraph, let alone unconsciously falling in love with one. 

But that’s just it: how you live by assumptions and rules based off the words of the ignorant villagers and the elders, how they all believe the seraphs are all still here, how they think there’s a direct relation to the Offering and a year’s good harvest, how it’s bad luck to see a seraph’s wings when it’s brought you anything but. If you learned anything from this winter, it was that you found you own way of living, thank the curiosity your home curses you for. Making your own path instead of aimlessly walking one that was already paved. You learned to trust yourself a little more while Yoongi propelled you forward and believed you deserved it all. You learned you did deserve more. You learned what love really felt like when it was new and fresh and exciting and real. And Yoongi. Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongi was the wine to your previously empty glass, and this winter with this man, it was heaven.

You decide the realization is enough for you. Have been gifted with so many things and blessings that you’re grateful for the chance to have met someone like him.

“I’ll miss you, Yoongi.”

Yoongi tastes bitter in his mouth. He felt that if all these years left alone in a manor of silence and rejection was to eventually meet you he would do it a million times, but if all you could reciprocate was this then it just wasn’t meant to be for him. It felt unfair but it also wasn’t his decision. He takes the sourness with him and stands. “I suppose I should head to bed.”

Your sad stare breaks his heart, even more so when you give up and nod. The fire catches your attention as it pops and you leave it at that. He tries to walk away, footsteps haunting, until he stops altogether.

It comes unexpectedly when he wraps his arms around you tightly, pressing his knees into your back. A weird sight it is to see his wings unfurl and curl around your rigid body. “Are you satisfied? Is this enough for you?” His voice is soft, like he could take either answer as long as he heard it from you directly.

“No.”

“Why don’t you ask for more.”

“You’ve already done too much for me, how could I possibly ask you for more?”

He hisses liar into your ear. “Is it your family?”

“No.”

“Is it him? Taehyung?”

Here you are again, faced with a question that tore you apart in the garden while you ached to be with Yoongi anyway. But there were no distractions here; nothing to interrupt your thoughts. Just you, Yoongi and your truth. He loosens his grip so you can face each other, knees between knees. Instinctively, you reach out for his feathers and indulge yourself with their softness. He pushes his wing into your hand as if to bribe you like a child.

He grows impatient, “Do you love him?”

You don’t waver, “No.”

A quick glint in his eye, a sort of relief, and then he finishes what he’s started and kisses you. It’s wrong how right it feels, lonely lips moving in tandem to find comfort in one another. Yoongi leans into it, absolutely devastated by your simple touch. The strength of the wine remains on your lips and he can’t help but lick into the flavor, drunkenly entranced by such luxuries. Yoongi’s hands can’t stay, snaking up your back, caressing your face, dragging his knuckles across your jaw and finally grabbing at the scarf. Carefully, he unwraps it from your neck, slow enough to feel it tickle your shoulder blades, before he folds it respectfully and places it elsewhere.

You sigh, more weight taken off your shoulders than there should be.

“Is this okay?” His voice raspy, speaking into the corner of your mouth. You’re stiff, nodding shyly and lacking the fire you brought up until this point.

He rewords, “Do you want me?” Yoongi feels the need to confirm, waiting for this moment for so long that it seems superficial. Like if he’s not careful, you’ll disappear into another one of his many short-lived dreams.

“Of course I want you, Yoongi. I want you more than anything…” But your eyes flicker to the ground, your lip tucked between your teeth.

“Then what’s wrong, lovely? You don’t have to.”

“No! I want to, I just… I’ve never done this before. I want you so bad but I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing—”

His laughs are light, his hand on the small of your back as he dips you onto the floor. Holding himself above, he plants a soft kiss on your cheek. “You don’t have to do anything. I’ll take care of you. I want you and we’ll go slow and if you decide you don’t want to anymore, we won’t.”

The way he makes you feel, how gentle he is, you couldn’t imagine a more perfect way for this to happen. It eases you slightly, letting your arms snake around him in an attempt to let your guard down. He’s patient and wonderful and you mumble about it. “Mhm, okay.”

The night robe he’s gifted you now poses a problem, his slender fingers looping through the bow that keeps it wrapped, “Can I?” You nod again, and he unties you like his own present. The feeling of being bare in front of him becomes apparent when he sucks in and the heat from the fire dances against your skin. Other than that, you look to the window to avoid his face.

“My love, look at me.”

His commands are easy to follow but you cover your breasts to hang onto your last bit of pride, granting eye contact at the least.

Face flushed, you can tell he, too, is trying his best. “You’re incredible. More prepossessing than I could have ever imagined. You shouldn’t be embarrassed in front of me.”

“Well,” you retaliate, “it’s hard not to be when I’m the only one naked.”

He grins at the challenge, sitting up to shed his layers, never noticing his garments having to wrap around in a way to accommodate to his wings. You just thought it was just a more ornamental way of dressing that the seraphs took to. He’s left down to tight underwear that hugs him incredibly, beautiful milky skin exposed and tinted with golden light. “Satisfied?” He lilts.

“You look like an angel,” you trace indents of faint abs. Wide shoulders that taper into a tiny waist, a slim build that you could study forever.

He kisses your words away, pushing you into plush comforters and pillows. A makeshift nest unintentionally built for the two of you. A groan rewards him when he licks your bottom lip teasingly, taking your wrists swiftly to pin them above you. “Pretty thing, I don’t have a halo.”

He starts from the top, kissing each inside of wrist before moving down your arm, slithering onto your shoulder, then into the crook of your neck with gentle suckles. Teeth grazes before puncturing, eliciting a yelp from you that satisfies him. He does this over and over, decorating the canvas of your neck.

“I want to burn you into my memory. I don’t ever want to forget this,” he moans with a wake left down until he meets cleavage. His muscles were relentless, impatient and eager, wanting to worship ever square inch of your body as you rightfully deserved. Your squeaks serve his purpose, his muse as he continues his ministrations down.

Out of nowhere, “I don’t want you to leave me, Y/N.” The profession makes you giddy, happy you’re not the only one who feels so. A hidden insecurity acknowledged and lifted.

“I don’t have to if you don’t want me to.”

“Let’s talk about it after?”

“Mmm.”

He reaches your stomach and doesn’t hesitate to nibble there too, flinching when your hand flies to his head and buries itself in his hair. He ditches his current plan to grab your hand and plant a kiss to your palm in a second, making you giggle.

He admits, “I like when you touch me.”

“I want to. I feel so useless letting you do this alone.”

“You’ll get a chance if you’d like later. But right now, it’s all about you.” Husking it out. Of course, the idea sounds blissful, but the scene of having you cum by his actions sound better. “Need to cherish what’s in front of me properly.”

So he dips dangerously, laving at the skin above the hem of your panties and hooking his fingers under the sides, “Please,” he breathes.

“You… can do whatever you’d like to me. I want it all.”

He tugs his lip between his teeth, pulling it down. An unexpected wetness strings between your skin and the cloth and you both see it; him amazed, you horribly mortified. You stutter trying to explain yourself, oblivious that you could even feel as aroused as you do now. But his forehead falls onto the jut of your hipbone and you can hear subtle teasing in his tone. “I-I’m just as nervous and that was so incredibly sexy. I don’t think I can go on, shit.”

You laugh stupidly. “Quiet! Not another word! Just hurry up and—”

That terrible habit of looking away becomes your biggest fault, unprepared for Yoongi to filthily bury his tongue into your heat. He flattens his tongue and tantalizingly drags up until he can just barely flick your clit with the tip. Growling in the process.

“You are so sweet. The sweetest I could ever have. You will be the end of me.” Rushed in panted breaths as he does it again. And again. And again. So much that the growing sound of wet against wet echoes in the empty room and renders you paralyzed.

The feeling of it makes you squeamish, like you want to move, buck your hips, pull his hair. Despite the lewdness of having his rough tongue against you and lapping you clean, you could never ask him to stop.

“You just… keep getting… wetter…” He says between turns. “You really wanted me this much?”

“Yoongi—ah! Please, I can’t. It feels weird.”

“You don’t want me to continue, my love?” He asks lightly, blowing cold air onto damp skin and really forcing you to buck.

“No! I just… I have never felt like this. I want you to but I can’t sit still.”

“Oh? Let me help you then. But you have to let me finish.” So you shyly nod and loosen your legs. He uses the prompt to scoop them underneath his arms and attach the back of your knees atop his shoulders, your hips curving up and towards him in a new, tight position.

“Yoongi!”

“No matter how you feel, just let it happen.”

Sultry wails are music to his ears when he brutally sucks on your clit, licking your folds here and there and using all his strength to keep you in place. He spells out his love with his tongue, digs it into you sweetly. His power, though, anything but kind.

“Uncover your eyes,” he orders deeply.

You whimper, begging for mercy.

“Look. At. Me.”

Unveiling your view, his stare immediately burns into your veins. Looking at you under dangerously slanted lids and that sinful mouth. Holding you in place with strength that could leave prints into your soft legs. With one roll of your clit under his teeth, you feel in ways you never knew how, as if all the pressure that built up in your abdomen suddenly overflowed with a tight burst. Choked sobs and hand gripping his hair enough to make him moan into you, vibrating wonderfully as he works you through it. 

He lets you go, remnants of syrupy arousal trickling down his chin; watches your legs fall open widely and your chest heave for air. Your features bring him joy, loving the way your hair sticks to your face with sweat, eyes closed, and brows knit together in concentration. He loved seeing you painted in warm hues and although he was never an artist, he could replicate this scene exactly how it’s displayed in front of him.

“How do you feel, lovely?”

You respond with a weak smile. “You’re so cruel… Min Yoongi.” You felt flimsy; weightless. A feeling you could come to love too much if you aren’t careful.

“I just wanted to make you feel good,” slithering back up to rest his head in your neck, giving you more kisses like you haven’t had enough. You’re happy he’s back, massaging your hands over his torso, up his neck, down his spine. And then you hit it and he tenses.

Thick and raised, an area between his wings that softly juts out. It was fairly large and the texture varied from the rest of his beautiful planes of skin. It was a scar. Wide as a dagger.

“I wish it wasn’t there. I know it’s—”

“Yoongi, baby.” You nudge him to lift his head and he does unwillingly, face turned away. “My Yoongi, it’s nothing. What happened was horrible but it’s over. And I will do everything in my power to make it up to you by giving all of me.”

His lips stop you tenderly, a whisper of affection that pours out love, “You didn’t do anything. In fact, you’ve made me better. I wasn’t able to feel anything for a long time until you. So. Thank you.”

Any remaining embarrassment vanishes. Not when Yoongi’s done his part and you would do anything to take care of him.

Sweat molds your bodies together, heat emanating from a fire that’s ablaze now. There’s a private summer in this room while winter continues outside and it feels special to you. It’s hot here, hot when Yoongi scrapes his teeth against yours, hot where his pelvis lays. You take notice to the hard thing twitching against your thigh, making you flinch.

“Ah, I’m sorry. And we’re in A Mood and all.” Yoongi snickers.

“Don’t be,” you purr, feeling a bit lustful and reaching down to grab it through the cloth.

He hisses, “Fuck! Fuck, please, I’m so sensitive at the moment.”

Ignoring him, you unskillfully maneuver your fingers around him. Just touching to be familiarized with it. He surges forward accidentally, sighing in your ear as he shamelessly humps the space between your groin. You use his distracted state to pull his shorts down, the sudden reality of his skin touching yours bringing about sensual noises from the both of you. A sudden spurt of precum makes it easier for him to drag his heavy cock against your hip.

“I’m sorry. It just feels so good.”

“Stop apologizing. I’ll help you.” You stare down as you flick your wrist, encircling him with fingers shaped in an o and pumping him slow.

“Squeeze,” he pleads and you oblige.

“Is it… supposed to be this large?” It’s a stupid question to ask, especially when you’re not entirely clueless. You know his size exceeds average proportions.

“Don’t spoil me. Seraphs have always been larger than humans. Height wise, I was the smallest of my brothers though.” Which seemed unimaginable to you, not when he towers over you and could easily devour you in a hug. Cock hanging low and barely able to keep in your single hand. He must be acting coy.

“Now you’re just bragging!”

“I’m just being honest. I’m automatically pleasing to the likes of you,” he chuckles.

The dampness overflows, smears over your skin in incredible amounts and how you wish you could taste out of pure curiosity, but he has other plans for you.

“I don’t think I can hold myself any longer. Please.”

“That’s… fine. Um, should we? Like this?”

“It’s so hot, could you flip on your side?” You roll and he figures he’s made a mistake. Entranced by the way your weight, breasts and soft curves, naturally gravitate down in a seductive pose.

“Like this?” You ask, unaware that he could simply die right now.

He lifts your leg to rest on his shoulder again, easy to stretch. “Perfect, my love. I’m going to go slow. If it’s too much we can try again another time, okay? No rush.”

Challenged by his kindness, you shake your head, “I’m fine. I’m ready.”

Whatever’s left of the arousal between you both is more than enough to let him enter easily. Head of his member no problem to push past that initial tension.

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

But it’s his shaft that makes you keen, entire length seeming endless as he fills you and overloads your maximum space. You cry, nerves making you writhe, “It’s not going to fit all the way—hah…wait.”

Yoongi struggles to hold himself back, perspiration dripping down his nose, “Are you okay? Does it hurt? It doesn’t need to, I’m pretty close to being all the way in anyway.”

“I’m fine,” you pant, head lolled to the side as he stretches you out in an odd, numbing way. “You can… you can move.”

His hips test it, pulling out so little to only be sucked back in with a leveled grunt. “Baby, you’re barely allowing me to.”

“It feels so tight,” you sigh, worried that if you move it’ll really begin to hurt.

“Ah, really? Let’s do this then.” He quick to please, wanting your pleasure before his own and getting you to flip, propped onto your elbows and filled from behind. Smooth chest meets your arched back, him hiding a kiss below your ear while he’s there. A moan aches in your throat as his dick unintentionally digs deeper inside, easier to move and to the hilt.

“Is this better, Y/N?”

“Hah… Yes. Yes, so much better. So good. Please move.”

His hips roll, just enough to grind into you which feels nothing but euphoric in itself. You mimic each other’s lusty whimpers with every movement. Caving into each other’s kisses and licks and pants that you feel synchronized.

Yoongi grows impatient with himself, exaggerating how he pulls out and slams himself back inside. The mere force that he fucks into you sends you forward, opting to lay on your chest and bite the blankets beneath you to keep from screaming. “You feel so good. So, so good. I’m sorry it hasn’t been long, but I feel like…”

His wings fall at his sides and cover you in shadow. It’s weird to see them like this, in a way you could imagine the perspective of having them yourself. But it covers you in unnecessary warmth and makes you grunt.

“It’s hot,” you admit with a quick breath, “Let me on top. I’ll finish.”

The way his member slides out; the way it leaves you tensing over nothing is a sad, needy feeling. You don’t slow at the chance to lay him down and take control, straddling him and watching his face contort in loving awe.

Sitting on him is an entirely different feeling and Yoongi keeps himself from cumming inside you right away, a choke in his throat. “Fuck, fuckfuckfcuk. Y/N, I won’t last like this for long please—”

“I’ll make it quick.” You lean over him, palms to the ground as you start moving, grinding and using him to your advantage. The nerves start again and you shake with pleasure.

“Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongi!”

Slender fingers dig into your velvety hips as he forces himself into you with harsh, quick jabs. “Baby, I have to cum.” He smooths his knuckles over your cheek, pulling you down into a tongue heavy-kiss in an impossibly fiery caress.

The ramming he enforces take incoherent sobs from your lips. You feel a ghost of a smile, sure Yoongi is enjoying your shameless display of indulgence; coming undone before his very eyes.

You arch into him, clenching tighter and falling onto his chest. With impeccable timing he pulls out, strings of hot white flooding between your stomachs.

“A lot,” you complain.

“Mmm. Because I’ve been waiting so long to have you.”

Without the pressure of moving, you lay on him despite the humidity. Petting the underside of his wings as they drape so gracefully against the blankets and the rug.

“Yoongi?”

“Yes?”

“I need to go home tomorrow.”

His heart sinks, “Oh?”

“To see my family. To come home and let them know I’m okay.”

“Yes, of course.” He’s afraid that you won’t come back, though.

“And… to turn down Taehyung’s proposal in person.”

Yoongi looks down and can’t see your face but he’s imagined it’s worried. “Y-Yeah?”

“Yeah. And Yoongi?”

He waits. You speak again, “Do you really want to be with me? For me to stay?”

“More than anything.”

He feels the tug of your cheeks on his chest; a wide smile.

“Then I’ll need to get my stuff.” And that makes him want to cry. After traumatic betrayal and years of loathing his punishment of isolation, he’s finally being let out of his cage. Free to be with someone that cares for him as much as he cares for you.

Your last thoughts remain on the fire and how it’s the only other entity to to swallow your talks, plans and confessions. Of his feathers like his arms as they fold in comfortably next to you, feeling like they’re meant to be there. Like you really were fated to be skin-to-skin with this man in his manor. Entwined by trust and love and an unprecedented future that would be everything as long as he’s in it. An irony of a useless girl and flightless wings.

Yoongi watches you fall under, wiping his thumb over your lips, trailing it down your chin and covering your naked body with his wing. Slumber finds him soon after, mind stuck on his self-epiphany that he had to lose his wings to gain you, and how incredibly lucky he is to have it that way.

a/n: ahAhaA, i’m sorry. please feel free to let me know what you think.

❋ masterlist ❋

[hheeyyhay]

The Familiarity of New Memories

Pairing: Hitoshi Shinso x Reader (can pass as gender neutral if ya squint)

Summary: Old traditions make way for new ones as reader makes new friends with the help of a certain ball of fur. 

OR Shinso volunteers at a shelter with a grumpy old cat who just so happens to play matchmaker between himself and the newcomer to town.

A/N: Hope you guys enjoy my contribution to the Konoha Simps’ latest server collab!! You can check out all the other wonderful pieces in this event right here. This is the first piece of fan fiction that I have written since high school, and the first piece I have ever put out into the world for others to see. I cannot thank the members of the Konoha Simps Server enough for giving me the motivation and courage I needed to FINALLY do this-- I love you guys so much!! 

Warning(s): fluff, mentions of anxiety/depression

quirkless college AU

Word Count: ~3K

There was no doubt about it, summer was officially on the way out. You could tell by the way green leaves were giving way to crisp splotches of red, yellow, and orange. In the way the cool breeze kissed your cheeks as it danced by. Most importantly, you could tell by the way your workload for classes picked up.

You tried to take in your surroundings-- take a moment to process a quick hello to autumn, and with it a farewell to simpler times. Gone would be the times where your biggest worries were what kind of trouble you would have to convince the rest of your friends to stay out of in between shifts at the local cafe. Normally, this goodbye was easier to say as it leaned to the happier side of bittersweet. After all, back home fall was your favorite season. That was all in the past though.

In your hometown, your walks around the neighborhood at the start of fall were comforting. You could stroll the streets with a snack in one hand, and a warm drink in the other as you headed to meet up with your friends under the canopy of changing leaves at the park. With textbooks sprawled across picnic tables and blankets the support of your friends kept you all warm against the slowly dropping temperatures. However, it was no longer the streets of your hometown that you were strolling along with a backpack over your shoulders, and it was no longer your friends at your side, but strangers.

You shivered, pulling your thick cardigan closer around yourself with a heavy sigh. You had been so certain that moving hundreds of miles away from home to finish your college work was a good idea. You had told your anxious family and friends that you would be fine, being alone in a new place for a while was just a sacrifice you had to be willing to make in order to pursue your dreams. Yet you began to doubt the truth in your own claims as the usual cold autumn wind whipped your hair about. It felt foreign rather than welcome as it would back home. The chill sunk into your bones where it mixed with your new found loneliness causing you to wrap your arms around your middle.

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” you thought to yourself pulling out your phone to see no new messages in response to all the ones you had sent out. You had known your friends for years and were lost without them. You sighed once more, shaking your head as you pocketed your phone. It had been the fifth time in an hour that you checked your phone knowing there were not any notifications you had already seen. You scolded yourself for being foolish and worrying that your friends had moved on without you. 

You had been distracted by the chatter of your own inner demons the entire rest of your walk, and it was not long before you were turning off the sidewalk onto the back walkway leading around to the front of the library.

You were headed inside to study on your own at the tables inside. It had become your new tradition after having found it too hard to study outside at any of the parks, where all the passerby would remind you of just how lonely you were here in this new town. As you rounded the corner and came up alongside the library you paused, noticing a lot more noise and chatter than usual. Balloons and signs amongst the visitors caught your eye. “Adoption day?”

You wandered closer to the tents that were set up in a corner of the parking lot. Upon closer inspection you realized that the people were gathering around various cages, crates, and pens filled with pets from the local shelter. There were as many different people there looking for new four legged family members to bring home as there were animals. Some children were leaning over a crate full of guinea pigs, others were picking out rabbits from one of the other pens, and still others were begging their parents for either a puppy or kitten. There were couples young and old alike speaking with the volunteers about which cat or dog was the best fit for them. You wished you could hang around a little longer, but there were so many people in such a small space that you could not help, but feel anxious. Turning away to finally walk inside you pulled out your phone once more to smile down at your lock screen; a photo of your cat from back home. 

Pocketing your phone you caught a glimpse of something familiar out of the corner of your eye. Following your line of sight as you walked away, you were surprised to recognize a boy from campus. If his wild purple hair and dark under eye bags were not enough to make him stand out from the crowd then his lanky limbs decked out in his unique dark, edgy style definitely was. You paused at the top of the staircase to the library and watched as he spun around to crouch in front of a cage. As he stood there squatting in front of the cage you realized that he was a volunteer from the shelter along with the others.

With one last final look over your shoulder you walked through the door, leaving the boy and all the homeless pets outside. As he disappeared from view at your departure, you caught a last glimpse of him pulling a rather forsaken cat out of the cage he had previously been standing in front of. Heading to your usual secluded table behind some less frequented bookshelves you tried to not think of the cat or the boy who held it in his arms. From what you had observed from your short visit to the Adoption Day Event, no one else had shown the poor old cat any sort of attention. The lump of fur was not only fluffy, but a bit on the large side, and while his coat was far from scraggly you could tell that he had only recently fallen on some sort of good fortune. He was missing a leg and both eyes, rendering him blind. It made you sad to think that the others were more than likely passing over the cat in favor of the other healthier, younger cats who would not have as many problems. As far as the boy, you could not even begin to guess why he seemed to be clouding up your thoughts. It was not like you had ever spoken to him before. 

Your thoughts were a jumbled mess and before you had known it you were throwing your pen down in frustration. “Ughhhh! This is useless! It has been two hours and I have barely put a dent into this chapter,” you dropped your head into your notebook as you slammed your textbook closed. 

“Maybe I would have been better off just studying at home afterall,” you thought to yourself as you packed up the rest of your belongings. 

You stopped at the circulation desk on your way to the exit to check out a book you had reserved on your previous trip in. “At least today wasn’t a total loss,” you thought to yourself as you gripped the book to your chest and headed for the door.

As you threw open the door and made your exit you were once again met with the chill of the outside air. It did not feel as cold as it had that morning though. You looked down at the book clutched to your chest and then back out across the parking lot. With a smile on your face and a new sense of determination that you had not felt since you had moved you found yourself walking across back to the makeshift shelter. The crowds from earlier had long since thinned only serving to further justify your impulsive decision. 

With a deep breath you had brought yourself up to one of the tables where the last few volunteers were congregated around the forlorn cat. Everything else was just about picked up and it was clear he had not been able to find a ��furever” home at the event. The volunteers, mostly middle aged women with bright smiles, greeted you and asked if you wanted any information on the shelter they were from or if you were perhaps interested in volunteering yourself.

You explained that you had recently moved to the area to finish your schooling, but that you had been especially missing your cat from back home. You showed them a few pictures as you expressed interest in the cat lounging on the table and using his one good front paw to swat away anyone who tried to pet him.

A deep voice from behind you startled you out of your conversation, “You really want that mangey thing instead of a cute kitten?” 

You turned around and were met with the lanky boy from campus. You had been about to argue with him, stand up for your new feline friend when you noticed the boy was giving you a devilish smirk and rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Shinso Hitoshi,” he extended his other hand to you, “I’ve uh--seen you around school a few times.”

You shook the offered hand and introduced yourself as well, “We have two classes together. I’d hope you’ve seen me around at least once or twice.” You tried to play it off cool as a blush crept up the back of your own neck. Your eyes searched each other up and down briefly and it took a lot of self control to not make an attempt to hide your face as you felt the blush grow across your cheeks as you watched Shinso’s own face begin to turn red. 

“Ahh, well, I’m fostering old Charlie here until he recovers more from his surgery,” Shinso made a show of gesturing to his own eyes and then to Charlie’s like it was some secret or he did not want to hurt the cat’s feelings. You could not help, but stifle a laugh. From the impressions you had of Shinso you had not expected him to be so forward, or funny for that matter. “Lucky for you, Charlie is quite picky and has scared away any potential suitors.”

Shinso reached around you and was able to give Charlie a few successful scratches under his chin. You reached forward too and copied Shinso’s movements. While Charlie was a little hesitant at first, he quickly warmed up to you and much to Shinso’s surprise, even let you pick him up and give him forehead kisses.

“Alright, well I guess you passed the test,” he congratulated you as he took Charlie from your arms and gently placed him into a carrier. “He has another week or so, until he’s ready to go to a new home. If you want you can fill out one of the adoption contact cards and then one of us at the shelter can give you a call when it’s time for him to get ready to go home to you?” Shinso turned away as he once again began rubbing the back of his neck as he started turning red again, “Orrrrr, I don’t know. Maybe you could give me your number and I could text you updates or something?”

The other volunteers had slowly begun to disperse during your interaction with Shinso, and the last older woman who was left chuckled a bit to herself as she passed you a clipboard with the adoption paperwork. “Just fill this out for me dear and then Charlie will be all yours pending his final follow up with the vet. Shinso can go ahead and answer any questions you may have.” She gave you a final pat on the shoulder as she wandered off to help the others finish cleaning up.

You quickly filled out the paperwork and handed it back to Shinso, your phone sitting on top of the clipboard unlocked and already opened to the messaging app so he could add his number, “Please don’t tell me you volunteer at the shelter just to use the poor animals as your wingmen.”

Shinso made quick work of adding his number to your contacts and made sure he had yours as well before adding the clipboard to a pile on the table. “Only when they help me get the courage to finally talk to a girl I’ve had my eye on since she first transferred a couple weeks ago.” His face was red and his eyes were downcast. You wondered if maybe your first impressions of him were true and that Charlie had inspired him to do something out of his comfort zone just like the cat had done for you.

You could not put your finger on it, but you once again found your thoughts swimming with the boy from campus. This time though you had a name and even a voice to put to the face. You were not ready to say goodbye and decided to stay to help Shinso and the other volunteers finish cleaning up. The sun was quickly setting at that point and as the darkness rolled in so did another bout of cool autumn wind. However, this time you hardly noticed it. It carried a clean, crisp scent of fall that felt the most familiar than it had since your move. 

You passed the time with idle chit chat, quickly becoming closer and closer to Shinso. You learned a lot about each other and came to realize you had a lot more in common than you would have ever thought. 

Pausing you closed your eyes and tilted your head back taking a few deep breaths. It had been ages since you felt this content. You were not alone, you were not worried about the many different reasons your friends could possibly have for not texting you back, and you were not worried about the fear of never finding somewhere to fit in within this new place. You walked over to where Shinso had Charlie’s carrier resting on the sidewalk leading towards the back of the library. Kneeling down you poked your fingers as far through the bars as you could manage, “Thanks Charlie. Without you, I really wouldn’t have any friends here and I don’t think I would be able to love the fall anymore. With you by my side maybe I’ll be able to remember being stuck in this new place will be worth it all in the end.” 

You had not realized that Shinso had come up behind you, and you bumped into him as you tried standing up. He gripped your elbow tightly as you regained your balance, “So you really are new around here huh? I thought so, but. Well. I don’t know.” Shinso shrugged his shoulders sheepishly as he let go of you and quickly gave you back your space. As he avoided your gaze and looked up at the setting sun you noticed just how dark the circles under his eyes really were. 

“Yeah. Uhm,” you shifted your weight back and forth nervously as you tugged at your own sleeves. “Thanks for helping me with the adoption stuff. I hope Charlie doesn’t give you too much of a hard time before he can come home.”

There was a tension in the air as you were both starting to get cold as the dark approached, but neither of you particularly wanted to be the first to leave. You tucked a strand of loose hair between your ear, using the action to hide your face a bit as you gnawed on your lip. Shinso mirrored your uneasy behavior, staying halfway turned away and pulling his fingers through the mop of purple hair on his head. Luckily, Charlie had woken up and given a pitiful meow that sounded more like a chirp. It was just the encouragement you both needed as you and Shinso were once again able to make eye contact.

“It’s getting pretty dark and looks like it may rain,” Shinso broke away and looked up at the sky momentarily. You could not help, but be mesmerized by the way the sunset played on his pale features, accentuating his jawline. You felt the blush making its presence known on your face once more and simply nodded. Charlie chirpped again as if he were trying to encourage Shinso to continue on before he blew his shot. “My place isn’t too far from here. We could head there and hangout with Charlie for a bit to wait out the rain, and then I could walk you home if you’d like?...”

You could tell Shinso was nervous to hear your answer as he began rubbing at the back of his neck. Grabbing his wrist to gently guide it back down you flashed him a genuine smile as it felt like a weight was being lifted from your shoulders. The moment was interrupted by Charlie who decided that was the perfect opportunity to make it known that it was past his dinner time. “Come on Shinso, we wouldn’t want to make old Charlie think we’re planning on starving him.”

Shinso laughed and bent down to grab the carrier. “Wait until he realizes he’s going on a d-i-e-t after he’s fully healed up,” he spelt out. Charlie made a noise from the back of his carrier like he understood what Shinso was saying and was not pleased about it, which only made you laugh that much harder.

You once again found yourself taking the rear pathway behind the library into town. This time was different though. You were no longer alone. You had two new friends you could confide in. The leaves dancing in the autumn breeze were once again a welcomed sight. The dropping temperatures no longer reached the innermost corners of your bones amplifying your loneliness. The ghosts of the memories of your friends were no longer haunting you everywhere you looked as you walked down the street. There was now someone special you could create new memories and cherish the autumn with.

[prurientpuddlejumper]

A Deep and Rapid River, Ch. 7 [18+]

<- Chapter 6 | Chapter 8 ->

Summary: The horniest chapter yet. And the beginning of the end. 

Over the next few weeks, your arrangement works out smoothly—or it seems to, anyway. The creature remains hidden in the hayloft, undiscovered. As often as you are able, you are down in the barn with him, lying in his arms, sharing books and stories, or listening to the low, raspy panting of his breath in your ear and feeling the roughness of his hands on your bare skin. 

Sometimes you cry together, frustrated and isolated, wishing the world you lived in was kinder, gentler.

And sometimes you dare to ramble in the woods, breathing the spring air and the changing harmony of scents of each new crop of flowers brings, listening to bird songs, and trusting in the solitude of the forest to protect you from prying eyes.

Every day his wound heals a little more. The bone-shattering gun blast which would have taken a regular human months to recover from—if they recovered—improves at an astonishing rate. Each morning you open the barn door to discover more of your chores have already been done, the dark-haired creature grinning proudly at his work, until one day, he had finished everything. You try to convince him he doesn’t have to do all that work for you, but, rubbing his neck sheepishly, he explains that it’s not so much a favor as a way to get you to spend more time with him. 

You have to admit, it is much nicer this way. 

Some mornings, you lie with your head in his lap in a quiet meadow you discovered along a solitary bend in the river. You gaze lazily up at your protector, his eyes bright as he weaves together the delicate stems of flowers. You had shown him how to do that—at first his large hands and herculean strength made him clumsy, and you giggled in commiseration, but soon he was gliding through the task as if he were one with nature, while you still managed to snap the stems more often than not. So you lie back and watch him work, smiling as he adorns you with spring. A crown of daisies circles his black hair. 

How could anyone ever be afraid of such a gentle creature?

He still cries at every word of kindness you have for him. He still can't fathom how someone could show love toward an unlovable wretch—how you contradict his reality by telling him he is not unlovable at all, but loved. He still feels a sick squirming in his intestines at these incompatibilities of truth. Liar! Contemptible. Disgusting. Unworthy. LIES! his mind repeats at every compliment you bestow, but he swallows down the bile. Somehow, you find him pleasing, he reminds himself. He doesn’t flinch away as you touch his face, as you press mollifying kisses to his lips. He swore never to hurt you again, and he intends to keep his oath. 

With no more manual labor to toil through, you are free to proceed with your pet project, as promised: making your dear daemon look human enough to be accepted by polite society. 

Your theory is, the creature’s grim, unnatural complexion and titanic stature played only a small part in the terrified reception he received from everyone he had met (save you). His tattered, incomplete clothing, wild hair, and general state of dishevelment added to the bewilderment. People saw a crudely-dressed outsider emerging from the forest, of course they were afraid—they probably thought he was a cave troll! 

But if you could make him look cultured and dignified… 

After all, Lazarus Colloredo, whose half-formed brother protruded forth from his chest, exhibited himself at royal courts. It was common in any city to see humans with unusual physical characteristics begging on the streets, finding themselves unwanted in more sophisticated circles, but at least tolerated, and not feared or driven away. That would be enough.

People would tolerate your companion if they believed his condition were a natural one he was born with… if you could dress him to look like someone who had been born. 

This proves easier said than done. 

You find a few old clothes that fit him with a bit of tailoring, but you're not the best seamstress, so the finished result is only a small step above the rags he'd been wearing. And since you're not a cobbler, he still has no shoes. He looks disarrayed, and he needs to be perfect for this plan to have any chance of success.

Taming his wild mane is at least a pleasant task. After an initial battle with the worst of the tangles—filled with frustrated tugging and snagging of the brush, accompanied by his jolting and pitiful whimpering—you reach a comfortable, methodical pace. His whole body shivers as you run the brush through his hair, letting out soft noises of appreciation. The greatest impediment to progress is that he enjoys it too much. You’re no help, either. His noises encourage your hands to massage his scalp and purr words of praise to him, trying to draw more little breaths and groans from him. Soon he has flipped around and has you pinned under him, whispering sweet, sinful desires into your ear, grinding his tented pants against your thighs until you beg for him to take you right there. 

It takes a few tries, interrupted by his superhuman stamina and overly-human desire for touch, but soon his hair is smooth as black satin, and looks just like a courtly gentleman’s when pulled back. Though he doesn’t like it pulled back. It exposes too much of his face, which, he points out, still looks like a corpse’s, and no amount of grooming will disguise that. 

Reforming his appearance is not the only difficulty plaguing your idyllic life. 

   ***********************

Bess stops by the barn to see you one afternoon in late spring. With the creature’s reflexes nearly back at full strength, there is little risk of being caught—he hears her coming and disappears into the loft without a sound. 

“Come out to the dance tonight!” she implores. “It’ll be fun.”

“I don’t know…” You fidget with your fingernails, trying to think of a normal-sounding reason you can’t make it. 

“Pleeease? I haven’t seen you in ages! Now that you finally dumped the loser,” she adds with a mischievous wink, “I've got a friend I think might be perfect for you.”

Ah, so that’s what this is about. She usually doesn’t push so hard to get you to socialize when you’re not in the mood, more of a you-do-you attitude. But she’s playing matchmaker now. “Oh, no,” you laugh nervously. “I'm not getting back on that horse yet, it’s way too soon.”

“It’s been months. You’ve waited an appropriate amount of time,” she crosses her arms, tilting her head to the side. “Nobody will think you indecent for moving on too quickly, if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

Is it getting hot in this barn? You pull at your collar. It feels like it’s getting hot in this barn. “It’s not that. It’s just, that whole situation was a disaster; I don’t want to go through it again.” There. That technically was not a lie. You’re not lying to your best friend. 

“Come on, don't give up!” she slaps your shoulders encouragingly. “Love can strike when you least expect it!”

“Now that I agree with,” you meant to state without emotion, but you can’t curb the secret smile blooming across your cheeks.

Bess picks up on it instantly, her mahogany curls bouncing in shock. “DID YOU FIND SOMEONE?”

“W-what? Nooo!” you backpedal unconvincingly. 

“Who is it? Someone I know? Where did you meet them?!”

“Shhh,” you hiss, looking past her exuberant eyes over her shoulder to try and see if your parents had magically appeared in earshot, like a pair of demons summoned by the sound of secrets. “There's nobody, just... shhh!"

“So that’s how it is, huh?” she raises an eyebrow. “Well, you better not be getting into anything scandalous, young lady,” she warns, putting on her best impression of your mother, before breaking character with a grin and a laugh, bouncing on her toes. “Oh please just tell me it's good. It must be juicy if you won’t even tell me. An errant noble? A gypsy lover? A married man? A woman? A married woman? Tell me tell me tell me!”

Eventually she lets it rest, and agrees not to pry (or say anything). But your secret isn’t safe. 

“Come to the dance,” she pleads with you, back to the point of her visit. “People are starting to talk.” You’ve been acting stranger than usual. Keeping to yourself. Talking to yourself. 

So that was why she was so adamant about you going. The romantic interest wasn’t the reason, it was just the carrot. 

There are rumors that since your near-death experience, you’ve been haunted by something that followed you back from the other side. Your soul cursed by evil or some such nonsense. Ferdinand has been furious, and only making matters worse, adding fuel to the flames. Why else would someone of your station break things off with him? It could only be madness. 

“Of course all but the most gullible of us knew Ferdinand’s ravings were just jealousy, but… A few people are claiming they’ve seen the beast he described lurking after dark. I don’t know, maybe he’s putting them up to it...”  

A dagger of ice strikes you in the heart. They weren’t just rumors. The creature would wander at night—the only time it was safe for him to be out in the open. Or not so safe. You realize with a creeping dread down your spine that you have not been as clandestine as you thought.

You force yourself to laugh dismissively. “I’m sure if there was a monster, it would have found me and gobbled me up by now, don’t you think? So silly!” Ha ha ha. 

“You’re so rational! To be honest, I would be terrified just by the thought some creepy demon thing might be after me,” she shudders. “You have to explain to everyone else what you just told me. Make an appearance, show everyone you’re fine.” 

At length you relent, and go to the dance. 

Everyone stares. 

Nobody talks to you. 

Ferdinand is there, and you spend the night avoiding him. 

You miss the creature. 

You wish you hadn’t gone. 

  ***********************

 When you finally get to see him again after the disaster of a dance, sneaking down to the barn in the pitch-black of night, he’s currying down the mule by lamplight. A bright smile splits his face when he sees you come in—wide, and showing rows of white teeth, which, you wonder, might seem terrifying to someone who didn’t know him very well, combined with hollow cheeks, dark-ringed eyes, and sallow skin pulled taut over the bone.

To you, he looks like a field of sunflowers on a summer day.

The animals seem to agree with your assessment. Even the mule, who used to rear up and bray at the sheer size of him, seems to have finally been swayed by his courtly manners. Now it snorts its disappointment as he puts away the brush to greet you. The chickens come running up to him, clucking for extra corn meal, one landing and perching on his head in a flurry of feathers. Barn cats swirl at his feet, and the cows are already lining up patiently to be milked, appreciative of his efficient hands and all-hours schedule.

You remember when you first taught him to milk. Now he’s more at home here than you ever were. 

Unsettled by the rumors Bess had told you about, you pray nobody finds him. You pray that this can last. That he can stay here, smiling, until you’re ready to make his presence known to the town. 

You long for a day you wouldn’t have to hide—that you could live together like a regular couple. You wish the world could see him the way you do, that this fantasy could become something real. 

How could anyone ever be afraid of him?

    ***********************

He bolts into the barn, cloak whipping behind him, and skids to a halt over the hay-strewn floor, shutting the door quickly behind him. His wild eyes dart around the structure, adjusting to the dim light. When they focus on you, his body finally acknowledges it has found safety, and leans, trembling against the wooden walls for support. A frayed bouquet of wildflowers wilts in his left hand, stems destroyed in his crushing grip.

“Someone saw me.”

The pitchfork you were holding clatters to the floor.

“Who?! Where? When?? Are they coming? Are you alright? Did they hurt you?” You rush to his side, searching for fresh injuries, brain reeling with all the ways you were completely fucked.

It was broad daylight!

He hides his face behind a gangling hand, and tips his head down to get lost behind a forest of loose hair. “I… I do not know. A hunter?”

“What did they look like?” You reach up to grab his shoulders, trying to get him to look at you. His eyes are panicked and unfocused. You groan. “Not that it matters. Nobody in this town will understand. We have to control the circumstances carefully to introduce you without causing a panic. This is bad… If they followed you—”

“Fear in their eyes…” he murmurs, voice cracking. “Everyone who ever looks upon me has fear in their eyes.”

He’s still shaking, his face twisted up and on the verge of tears.

Oh. 

He’s falling apart and all you can say is “This is bad”? This is no time for you to start panicking, too. You take a deep breath, and put a steadying hand on his arm. “Hey, it’s going to be OK,” you force a smile. “There have been rumors about you since I fell in the river—lots of people claim they saw you—this doesn’t change anything. We’re OK.”

“So much fear. That look of terror… Is that how I am meant to be looked at?” he collapses to his knees, letting his nails scrape down the wall as he sinks, the forgotten flowers dropping in a heap by his side as tears begin freely flowing down his cheeks. “How could I forget I am nothing more than a blot upon the earth? A sight to be abhorred.”

You wish you could swallow him up in your arms—cradle him like he does you. You give it your best try, spreading your arms wide and draping your whole body like a second cloak over his enormous, curled form. He rocks, continuing to mutter that he is a wretched thing made to be hated, while you whisper and hum soothing noises, rubbing his back.

“Look at me…” you whisper over his shoulder, gently tipping his chin toward you. He obeys, eyes dull and glassy as they meet yours. You smile, trying to pour every bit of love you feel for him into it, so even from whatever dismal well his heart has sunk to the bottom of, it will radiate affection to him like the sun.

For an instant, his tears stop actively flowing as he observes you. “Except for you. The way you look at me is so different.”

“This is how you're meant to be looked at.”

He chokes and turns away, rubbing his eyes. You circle around to his front, and lean your forehead against his. He looks at you again, a little calmer now. The adoration in your eyes is almost too much for him to bear, but he tries to smile back. The attempt shatters your heart. 

“Oh, you kind, benevolent angel, blessing this foul villain with such a favorable gaze.”

“My wonderful, powerful protector,” you coo softly. You move to sit, and he instinctively makes room for you on his lap—muscle memory of the way you fit together—holding you comfortably in his strong arms. “So sweet and gentle.” Your voice dips flirtatiously, and you touch a hand to his cheek, serenely caressing his jawline.

“How can you look at me like that, in spite of all my flaws?”

The answer spills from your mouth with an infatuated grin before you have a chance to think. “You don’t have flaws. You’re perfect!”

He frowns.

The frown deepens until it nearly becomes a scowl, and he closes his narrowed eyes against the feeling threatening to boil out.

“Please stop that,” he removes your hand from his cheek. “Do not pretend I am not what I am. It is… mockery.”

Shit. You got carried away. Of course he would take that the wrong way. You had to be careful about paying compliments to his body, they hurt him. The cruelest words of insult wouldn’t sting half as much as calling him handsome. But you don’t want to apologize this time. After all, you meant it.

“My beloved,” you stroke his face with the hand he didn’t have restrained, determined to beat down his walls of insecurity with relentless affection. His neck and the tips of his ears redden with heat. “I—”

“Do not flatter me with sugared lies, and ignore the truth,” he interrupts, the tremor returned to his voice. “I know what I am. Being pitied is enough for a wretch like me; it is enough that you endure this unsightly visage without hating its owner. Do not pretend you cannot see me. It is worse to pretend.”

Your throat tightens, and a prickling of tears threatens your eyes, but you don’t cry. It’s heartbreaking that he still thinks of his body as something you have to endure. That you only put up with it, rather than adore it as you do. But he is stubborn in his hatred for his creator’s work. To explain your feelings to him, you will have to choose your words carefully.

“It’s not that I don’t see you, or your scars. I have eyes. I know most people are frightened by your appearance, and I know you’ve suffered horribly because of it. I should have realized you would think I was teasing you to say you’re perfect, but… I mean it.

“You are my heart’s gleam, my gentle dove. My beloved daemon. To me, you are the most wonderful being in all of creation. I am so happy to have met you, and to have had you in my life these past months. There is no one who lights up my heart as you do, none whose face it pleases me to see more. I am never more comfortable than when I’m in your arms, and I never feel so beautiful as when you look at me, nor so important as when you speak to me as if my thoughts matter. Your intelligent mind and poetic soul fill my days with wonder, and you make me feel accepted in a way I have never been before.”

You are stroking his face and the sides of his neck with both hands now, and he is melting into your touch, breaths drawing in slowly and puffing out in shaky bursts. You twirl a finger around a lock of dusky hair.

“I have never wanted you to be any different from the way you are. So I must conclude that the world’s measure of beauty is wrong—for you are perfect. Entirely, completely perfect.”

His head collapses into yours, leaning his forehead against you. He grips you tightly with both arms, squeezing you into his chest like he’s trying to absorb you. Warm, agitated breaths fan your face, and you feel his shoulders convulsing; you think he’s weeping, but then you realize it’s laughter.  

“I sound wonderful,” he says, a hint of pride licking the edges of his voice.

“You are.”

He kisses your neck, awing that you let him press his lips to you, then buries his face against your skin. “In books there is always passion, but... this is far greater than that. You are so patient with me. What did young Werther and Charlotte truly share? What did Juliet know of Romeo? Only the impulses of desire. You offer friendship, and I should like to spend my life repaying the kindness you have bestowed on me.” 

You hum with excitement. “Oh my daemon, my dove, my flitter-mouse,” endearments fall from your lips like apple blossom petals. Goaded by your words, he hefts you up with a now-familiar (yet still shocking) ease, an impish smile sparkling in his eyes as he bridal carries you across the room, ignoring the petulant clucking of chickens scattering from his path. 

“You are perfect,” he kisses your forehead. He sets you down on top of a storage chest, your back supported the wall. “And wonderful,” he kisses your nose. From your new perch, your hips are close to the height of his, and the outline of something growing at the front of his pants tells you exactly where his mind is heading. “And you are mine, yes?” He asks, voice heavy. Instead of kissing you again, he waits for you to close the distance.   

“Always,” you answer, stretching up to grasp his lower lip between your teeth, nibbling and running your tongue over it. He gasps at the novelty, and a surge of heat flares to life inside him. He moans as you tug his lip away from his teeth, and he chases your mouth down, a hand at the back of your head preventing your escape as he envelops you with a smothering kiss, his thick tongue demanding an invitation which you happily give, caressing your own tiny tongue on the probing muscle filling your entire mouth, wrapping your arms around his back as he consumes you. 

Finally he pulls back, a string of saliva still connecting you, a wolfish hunger in his eyes. “You’re mine, and I love you so much…” 

Love. 

You pant, hands curling through his hair. Had you said that before? Had he? Well, yes, you had used the word to describe your feelings, but never so directly. Never in a way that couldn’t have been intended as general, familial, platonic love. You never obfuscated your camaraderie and affection… but this felt different. Pointed. 

I love you so much.

You shiver with pleasure as his corpse lips trace your jaw and down your neck. He leaves a trail of tender kisses all the way down your arm, lingering to suck at the soft skin on the underside of your elbow. A sudden tightness builds in your core, accompanied by a sinful wetness that urges you to wrap your legs around his hips, hiking your skirt up above your knees, and pull him close. The pressure of his clothed cock—now fully erect—pressing into your inner thighs makes the urge worse. You shift to position the bulge against your aching clit, and rock your hips mindlessly seeking relief as his soft kisses up and down your neck and arms drive you into oblivion.

“I love you,” you murmur.

He stands straight, which makes you whine with disappointment as his warm lips leave your body, but he’s looking down at you with the softest eyes. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows. “Those three words fill me with joy enough for a lifetime; and beyond even the veil of death, the happiness of that one utterance shall warm me for eternity. Say it again.”

“I love you.”

“Again.”

A tingle of goosebumps spread up your arm at his sudden demandingness—the way he leans over you, a hand against the wall, voice thick, and low. 

“I love you.” 

“Again,” he commands, leaning in close to your ear, voice barely a whisper. He nips the flesh of your earlobe and your back arches involuntarily. 

“I love you,” the words brush against his cheek. 

“Again,” he sighs, before his lips fall on yours, swallowing your reply. 

You had been in the middle of refreshing the straw bedding for the cows when he burst in, and there is still a nagging at the back of your mind of what if he was followed? But no angry mob has appeared at your doorstep yet, and everything else can wait its turn. This is definitely… the most important thing on your mind. 

It is a soft kiss, as his usually are—gentle and careful with one so much smaller than he is—but grows in intensity, his tongue parting your lips, running across your teeth and plundering your mouth as you moan and twitch your hips. All his insecurity disappears with the noises and writhing he can draw from you, how eager and helpless you are under his touch. Every fear eclipsed by his burning need to bury himself inside you, and hear you scream out for him as he satisfies himself. 

His large fingers unfasten the lacing of your bodice with the same practiced ease as weaving flower stems, pulling down your blouse as his hot, sloppy kisses move from your mouth, over your jaw, and down your neck—this time leaving red hickies in their wake. You feel the direction of his mouth toward your exposed chest, and whimper in anticipation of the warm slickness in just the right spot. He kneads the fat of your breasts in his palms, his sucking kisses down your collarbone growing ever more needy, filling the barn with wet smacking.

With an electric jolt, his tongue finally reaches the sensitive flesh of your nipple, and you feel a flood of warmth surging through your body, curling your toes, and settling in the base of your spine. Your fingers curl into his hair, against his scalp, pulling him against the hardening bud, his lips closing over it, tongue making languid circles that make your head loll back, and your hips buck up to grind against him—but only meet the air. To bend his towering body enough to reach your chest, he had to adjust his hips away from you, and without the pressure of his erection to grind against your cunt felt desperately empty, aching for contact. 

“Ah,” you gasp, grabbing his hand and placing it between your legs, under your skirt, “P-please!” 

His lips pull into a smile against your breast, exposing his tongue as it flicks across your nipple, now bright red and sopping wet. A large digit runs down the length of your slit. You gasp and jerk into it, but his hand is already gone. He rubs the moisture between his fingers. “Hmm, already so excited,” he taunts in a velvety voice, switching to your other breast, rolling the first between his thumb and fingers. 

When did he get so confident? He used to follow your lead, waiting on you to instruct him. He was still terrified of the world, but with you… 

“Tell me what you want me to do,” he purrs, sucking your nipple sharply to draw another gasp from your lips. 

In your private world, when things got like this… 

You let out a strangled whine, moving his hand back between your legs. He lets it rest there idly, ignoring your frustrated, pleading groans and clawing at his hand to do something. He pinches a nipple, delicately tugging at it, slowly drawing his tongue across the other. 

“Hmm? You must speak up. I want to hear your voice.”

...He could be such an arrogant little shit! It’s so hot. 

“F-fingers! Please!” 

“As you wish.”

With a possessive growl, his long finger plunges inside you, moving in and out, getting coated with your slippery wetness as he treats your breasts as his playthings. You can hear his breathing increase, too, each exhale a loud snarl. His hips begin jerking in time with the pulsing of his finger into you, feeling the twitch of your velvet walls squeezing him as he drives you toward your climax—he imagines it’s his cock inside you, and suddenly, this isn’t enough. 

“S-so good. You’re so good,” you whine, eyes closing as you lift your hips into his finger, deepening every thrust. The heat in your core is building, coiling, tightening… You stroke his hair, savoring the motion of his head and the wet sucking noises at your chest as he sends wave after wave of pleasure through you with his tongue. You run your hand over the striations of muscle in his shoulder, over his healed gunshot wound, the feel of his skin and the sound of his ragged breathing sending you over the edge—

His finger pulls out. His tongue moves away. 

The release so close on your horizon fizzles. 

“Wah!” Your eyes shoot open, complaints pursed on your lips. Then you see the hungry look in his eyes, and a shudder runs down your spine. Maybe he’ll fuck you right there. By the look of it, his erection is ready to rip through his pants.

“Patience,” he purrs, swallowing the tightness in his throat—the only sign of his slipping composure. 

He spreads open your legs, kneeling between them, strong hands on your thighs helping you balance on the edge of the crate. His chest rises and falls slowly as he inhales your scent. “S-stop it!” you blush, squirming but unable to budge from his firm grip. Why does he like to smell you so much? You close your eyes and look away from the lewd act. He’s really changed so much, no longer so eager to please you that he wouldn’t risk drawing things out, or embarrassing you. He trusts you, that you’re never going to push away from him in sudden disgust; he knows you enjoy every minute of his attention. 

He extends his long, thick tongue, and traces it along your thighs, teasing you with nips and kisses. Your body shudders at the welcome heat. He’s become an expert on your body, listening to your breathing and waiting for exactly the right moment to finally taste your dripping cunt. Your fingers clench in his hair, urging him on, but he takes his time with a long, measured, broad-tongued lap down your inner thigh, his eyes watching yours, studying your reaction and giving a self-satisfied smirk at your struggle to contain yourself. 

“Please… more.” 

Slowly, patiently, he finally dips his tongue into your quivering, saturated heat. He lets out a muffled moan into you, savoring you, hands clenching on your thighs as he revels in it. You can feel that tension start to coil again, but he’s still taking his time with such an indulgent, unhurried pace, you’ll never reach the orgasm you were denied.

Your fingers dig into the back of his head and your hips twist in his vice grip, helpless to create their own pace. “Faster.” You try to jerk your hips against his tongue again, to no avail. “You feel so good, my love,” you coo in a honeyed voice, hoping flattery will achieve results. “What must I do for you to let me come? I’ll do anything. Please—faster!” 

In a blur of motion, your legs are over his shoulders and he’s standing at full height, large hands holding up your hips to his mouth, your back resting on the box where your ass just was. It feels like the wind was knocked out of you—you can barely breathe as he points his tongue into a stiff rod and attacks your clit with incredible speed and vigor. You didn’t know tongues could move to fast! His mouth is working magic, and the angle he’s holding you at somehow makes it feel even better. Maybe it’s the blood rushing to your head, or the way you have to look up at him, holding you as you dangle helplessly at his mercy, but you can feel your climax returning in greater force. 

“I’m… going to finish already,” you writhe and moan, cheeks hot. 

He doesn’t stop this time. “Come in my mouth,” he instructs, licking and lapping you deeper, faster, his own moans of pleasure lost in yours, crying out louder, thighs clamping around his neck, pulling him in harder, deeper, until your muscles convulse and you bite your lip to silence your shaking scream. He thrusts his tongue deep inside you, feeling your walls twitch around him, tasting your hot release coat his tongue. 

“Fuck, you’re so good. So perfect,” you praise as you start to come down. 

He’s not through with you yet, however. Not by a long shot. 

He keeps writhing his tongue inside of your still-twitching heat, then brings his mouth back to your over-worked clit, ghosting his lips over it, flicking softly and quickly with the pointed end of his tongue. 

You cry out in surprise, an unpleasantly strong contraction ripping through your body in protest. “N-no!” you try to wriggle away, pushing your arms out against him, but from your upside-down suspended position, the only part of him you can reach is—your heart skips a beat as your hand grazes his throbbing steel shaft. A renewed surge of heat flushes between your legs, overwhelming the over-stimulation with pleasure. You swallow. 

“Do you want more?” he murmurs, drunk on you. You nod breathlessly. You need him to keep going. To put that in you. “Good.” 

You grope blindly for the inhumanly thick bugle in his pants, and lay your palm against it, feeling its incredible length. The heat it gives off is amazing. There is a sharp inhale, and a hiccup in the steady working of his tongue. Not so easy to stay cool, is it? You smile, finally turning the tables a little. You rub his clothed shaft until he makes muffled whines into your cunt, and his hips start rocking against your hand as you stroke him up and down. 

This is heaven. He could live between your thighs, drowning in the taste of you. He loves making you happy—seeing you shudder with pleasure from his touch—and the power he has over you in these moments makes an intoxicating combination. You belong to him. 

“Do I make you feel good?” he rasps. You stare back up at him—his tongue stopped. You pull at the back of his head with your legs, trying to get him to start again, to give you what your body desperately needs, but he only looks at you with heavy-lidded eyes and tips his head to the side. Fuck, he’s cute when he does that. 

“Y-yeah.”

Lick. 

Your hips buck into his mouth in appreciation, an electric pulse vibrating down your back. 

“Only I can make you feel this way?” 

Oh god, this is the game he’s playing? You’ll say anything to get him to keep going, but the only answer you can make right now is a pleading, affirmative whine and a nod. 

Lick. 

That was good enough. Your eyes squeeze shut. You were so close again! 

“Only me?”

“Please don’t stop!” 

Not good enough. “Say you’re mine,” he purrs, “That only I can make you feel this way.”

“Only you!” you cry, squeezing your thighs around him, trying to pull him back in, “I’m yours! Please!” 

He smiles, and gives you a delicate swirl of the tongue, tracing your clit, then plunges his tongue deep inside you, fucking you with the large muscle, pulsating and tasting you, filling your longing core up with its heat. Oh god, it wasn’t as big as his cock, but the way it could move inside you was so strange and delicious, and the wet, hungry noises his mouth made sent you over the edge a second time, your hands grasping for something to cling to—one clenching the edge of the crate, the other gripping the outline of his shaft. 

He slips his tongue out of you, dripping with a mingling of your juices and his saliva, and puts it back to work on your throbbing clit without pausing. In its place, he soaks two bony fingers in your empty core. The fingers are cooler and less slithery than his tongue, but make up for it with length and firmness, reaching deeper, and hitting nerves that his tongue missed. 

“R-right there!” you squeal, voice shaking as he finds your g-spot. He feels your muscles twitching and pulling beneath his hands. Sucking hard on your clit, he pumps his finger harder in and out of your drenched pussy, focusing on that sensitive spot that makes you cry out for him, until you come again, your walls clenching and unclenching around his hand.

You expect a break after that. Your body is exhausted and trembling, especially in this uncomfortable—if arousing—position. But, whether he’s working off his earlier panic, or he just has that much more stamina now that he’s healed, he doesn’t stop. Instead, he adds another finger, stretching you farther and making you moan with the feeling of fullness. You don’t bother to protest or try to wriggle away, only whimpering praises and encouragement, eager for more. He builds you up and sends you over the precipice again, and again, and again relentlessly until you can’t stand any more.

Only when you’re shaking and soaking, so dizzy with sensation you can no longer speak, does he release his iron-clad grip on your hips and lowers them back down to the top of the storage chest, sitting you up with your back resting on the wall. Breathing erratically, he presses a tender but sloppy kiss to your lips, the flavor of you on his tongue. 

“This is what… perfection tastes like,” he pants. 

Settling between your legs, he finally frees his unbearably hard erection from its prison, the unearthly member glistening with precum and throbbing with pent-up desire. 

The storage crate is tall enough that he barely needs to bend his knees to achieve the right height, and with little need for adjustment, he’s rubbing his giant cockhead along your entrance. It feels so good, but your tired muscles are too limp to buck your hips up to help push him in, so you merely bite your lower lip in anticipation of being filled with him. 

After being forced to wait for so long, his cock aches to bury itself up to the hilt in you with one thrust, but if he just pushed it in, he might split you in half. He is your gentle creature, needy as he may be, and he can wait just a little longer if it means not hurting you. He rubs his shaft along you, coating it in your slickness with his hand, making sure you’re ready to take him. He pushes the head inside. A gurgled moan escapes your lips at the satisfying pressure. He studies your face. 

“Do you want me?” His hands trace over the bone of your hips, kneading the fat of your thighs. You nod weakly, and he pushes in farther. He’s spreading you wide, filling you so magnificently. This is what you’ve been waiting for. Yet he still waits, pausing for your body to adjust to his size. “Are you all right?” 

You put your hand over his, marveling at how much bigger it is than yours, and squeeze. “I love you so much. Now fuck me.” 

He lets out a strangled whimper of affection at your declaration, and jerks his hips forward into your eager pussy. A cry of pleasure and brief pain tears from your throat. Those words were all the encouragement he needed to become ravenous, nipping at your neck, pinching until a trail of red bruises blooms over your skin. Suddenly, you’re in the air, still fully impaled on his prodigious length, and being slammed against the wall. He begins pounding into you hard and fast, hands squeezing your hips and shoulder, keeping you effortlessly off the ground, while your legs instinctively wrap themselves around his waist, holding on for dear life as he fucks you into the wall, the sloppy sounds of flesh striking flesh filling the serene bucolic air. 

You hold him close, running your hands up his back and around his ass, feeling the powerful jerking of his muscles beneath the skin as he thrusts into you. So big. Everything about him is oversize, his arms, his cock, all of the scars covering his body… the textured discoloration of his skin. He did look devilish—but he was so sweet, and kind, and so, so passionate for you, he was more like a prince. Or, at the very least, he was your devil. 

Even in his lust-fueled frenzy, he notices you noticing him. 

Your eyes are undisguisedly observing parts of him he would rather not think about, and suddenly he remembers what he looks like—self-awareness lost in the passion of the moment returning like a revelation. What you see whenever he mounts you is a monster… and you still let him. You still beg him to. You moan, and whimper, and plead for more of him, your body at his command.

His grunts grow louder and less controlled, and each thrust of his hips sends tremors through the entire barn, little trails of dust and hay falling from the rafters. 

“How does it feel to be fucked by a monster? To belong to me?” 

It feels warm. You can barely articulate an answer through the fog. It feels rough, hard, fast, tender, passionate… 

His breath hitches, a low rumble in his throat, and you realize you’ve been muttering out loud. 

“You’re so perfect. So big. You know exactly what I want,” you run your hands up the misshapen grooves of his chest, struggling to keep your voice smooth and seductive as he knocks the wind out of you with each thrust. Compliments can often backfire with the self-hating creature, but in moments like this, you can praise him like a puppy dog and it gets him more red-faced than… than the fact that you’re fucking!

“You feel so good inside me,” you keep singing praises as he pounds into you, his grip getting harder and harder until you’re sure you’ll be left with bruises. “You're so big, you're filling me up. Nobody can do the things you do to me.” 

Finally he buries his head in your neck and lets out a full-throated sob, as his hips meet yours in a powerful thrust, burying himself deeper inside you than you believed possible. You feel the warmth of his hot seed filling you, so much of it that it overflows out of you and drips down your ass.

He doesn’t move. He pants against your neck, practically growling, arms holding you in place possessively, pinning you to the wall. You’re not getting down just yet. He wants to savor his cock buried deep inside your warmth for a little longer. You sigh contentedly, closing your eyes and leaning your head against his sweat-dampened chest. 

Exhausted and sated, his senses begin to return. He stares at the huge mummy-like hands practically swallowing your small body, your skin so elastic, vibrant, and alive in contrast. Softly, he asks again, absent any passion-fueled bravado, “You love me?”

“I love you.”

“Foolish girl.”

“You love a foolish girl,” you tease, grinning. You grab both sides of his face, rubbing your nose against his. 

“I do.” 

You could get lost in the little world the two of you share.

Unfortunately you were so engrossed in your own little world that you didn't hear the hens clucking as they rushed to the edge of the fence, or the cows mooing a friendly greeting to a familiar face.

You didn't notice Bess standing in the doorway of the barn until she let out a blood-curdling scream.

[diegolabhont]

I didn't mean to fall in love with you

Chapter One

Book: Queen B - Choices (Universe)

Pairing:  Poppy Min-Sinclair x Trans!Male MC  (Beck Hughes)

Genre: None (in this post, al least)

Rating: Anyone can read it, really.

This is me trying to write by and for the Trans community, specially FTM community, meaning, trans guys, but I actually took the liberty to use They/them pronouns for everyone out there who´s interested (Also, the name Beck was the most neutral one I could find, trying to use the cannon Bea Hughes)

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

Can someone explain to her how a person who claims to be so disinterested in the ranking was magically climbing to the top twenty?

Poppy didn’t buy it for a second, she always knew Beck were going to be a pain in her ass ever since the first time she saw them looking at her as if they weren’t impressed, but she wasn’t fully aware of how much.

“You don’t have to worry about them, Poppy” Chloe said while the strawberry blonde retouch her make up in the mirror inside her own room. “Beck is just a dude”

“Transphobia much, Chloe?” Veronica murmured playfully, wanting to start drama among her streaming fans.

“No! What I'm saying is… Beck's brain works as a regular dude, right? How much smart can they be?”

“Ha! That´s rich coming from you” Veronica laughed.

Both girls started a discussion about related shit, Beck’s brain, hormones and else while Poppy put on the mascara. Completely silent, thinking.

She treated Beck as a common enemy, she attacked them just like she would to any other lost lamb trying to be the wolf but it was not enough. Even one of those plans exploded in her own face: ruining and breaking Beck's guitar caused that they not only get a flashy and beautiful new one, but sang side by side with the one and only Jaylen Riaz, making a huge performance. Even better than hers, which was something painful and humiliating at the same time, especially after Veronica told her Beck’s YouTube channel had a followers increase, making them even more popular.

Chloe was right on something: Beck’s brain worked like a dude, and if she had learned something was that men in general were manipulable. Take a look at Michael, he was dumb as hell. Liam was a douchebag. Luis, Ford… well, they… they´re there. The only golden boy among them was Carter, and yet, he wasn´t that hard, she just gave him what he wanted in that party and after that, everything ran smoothly.

And that´s what she needed.

Poppy´s look changed, her eyes sparkled in a very malicious way and a smile crossed her face for a split second. She now had a plan, and unexpectedly, it was a Chloe attribution.

“Maybe if we accused them of cheating…?” Chloe suggested, but Poppy knew better.

“That won´t be necessary, Chlo” Poppy intervened for the first time in a while, making both girls look at her intrigued. They knew Poppy, and the little smile she had on her lips as she applied lipstick was a proof. The blonde was onto something juicy. Veronica ended the live and awaited. “Beck will be mine.”

~~X~~

It was kinda lame to her, but finding Beck completely alone under the football stands playing guitar was at least convenient. They were an eye candy from the start, that was a fact. The way that white t-shirt embraced their body was something else to see, her mind went back to the second time she saw them. The sassy rock star kind of look Beck had, even the haircut was perfect, Poppy knew that was a Zoey Wade signature and she kinda thanked her for it. Beck was damn fine, that fact made easier her plan to be honest.

“You know… You do pass pretty well as a man”

Beck stopped playing, literally frozen in place as a statue.

“What did you just say?” Their tone of voice was cold, almost insulted. Did she just get it wrong? No, she´s never wrong. A Queen can´t be wrong, especially a Min-Sinclair queen.

“It was a compliment, Farmsville” she said, rolling her eyes.

“That´s not a compliment” Beck chuckled, putting the guitar aside. “I mean, I don´t mind, but if you are going to use that to the trans community… It~ may not end well” Poppy frowned, a little pissed off. She was doing an effort, no-one had ever heard a compliment from her and this little sh… “But thanks.” Beck offered her a sweet smile a second before turn it into a mocking one. “You do pass pretty well as a woman, too”

“Go fuck yourself!”

“And now she gets it!” They started laughing, making her really angry. Poppy walked away fuming, her head up high and a killer look murdering anyone who dare crossing ways with her.

That stupid ASSHOLE. Did they THINK they could disrespect her?! To HER! She was the number ONE, the fucking RULER of the entire school. Beck was lucky enough to be in her radar and they just throw stupid shit like that!

“To be fair… I did say it first”

“I thought it was a COMPLIMENT” She fight against herself. “What am I? Some trans expert?!”

“No… But I can be. I mean, to destroy my enemy…”

“I have to know them...”

Even thought she was still mad about it, Poppy tapped wildly though her phone. She needed to do something, and she knew just the thing.

“It´s ON, jackass”

~~X~~

POV: Beck

Top fifteen. Everyone was losing their shit because they were now top twenty and Beck... Well... They just didn´t want it.

And yeah, sure, that was kinda good. The students in Belvoire had begun to pay attention to their music as well, Beck even caught a few of them listen to songs Beck wrote and some other cover as well. Their art was taking off and that was awesome, don't get it wrong, that was something Beck wanted for so long, but...

They were afraid.

What if it was because of the stupid ranking?

What if Beck just wasn´t that good, and the only thing people would want was that Beck who studded up against Poppy Min-Sinclaire and lived to tell? Even Zoey, she was talking about popularity, Belvoire elite, and some “Person to watch-out” or shit Award which yes, was huge! But… Beck really was afraid that it was Beck who puts the music high and not backwards.

What if…

What if Poppy really messes all up?

“You know… You do pass pretty well as a man”

Poppy´s words in their mind caught Beck off guard. What was her deal anyway? She came and said some weird shit, and...

Actually, everything in that interaction was weird as fuck. And not just that, Beck meet Taylor by accident later that day in the ice cream shop, they both talked a little and they found out she had a big crush onto some random guy Beck didn´t knew before.

Of course Beck was the matchmaker! They even helped her by carrying those stupid anti-diarrheic pills to the lion´s den. Ok, yes, maybe~ Beck should´ve had given them to someone and not just let them in the front door… But it wasn´t their fault that The T found out!! Poppy was losing it, and of course it was them to blame.

Why can´t they just have a normal life… with normal problems… and not… this?

“I´m dead… I´m actually dead…” Beck thought while burying their head on their hands, tired.

“Beck? Hello? I assume you heard the details of the assignment.”

“What?”

“Ehm… Yeah! Totally” Beck said with a “confident” smile that nobody believed in, Professor Roberta even frowned before going back to the lecture, while Beck tried uselessly to catch something about the assignment from their classmates´ laptops. She hated Beck anyway, but it wasn´t good news to be always in her bad side.

“Shit! Shit! Shit! … What did she say?”

“Mass comm is all about reaching people far and wide, so this project is meant to give the voiceless in our own community a voice by…”

A penetrant gaze nailed their nape, giving them chills. Beck immediately looked for that one hawk over them and not to their surprise the person found on the other side was that deadly beauty called Poppy Min-Sinclair, watching Beck as they´re a prey. Feeling really drove up the wall, Beck winked playfully at her, expecting her to look away or some rude expression towards them.

But no.

Scaring the shit out of them, Poppy actually smiled back at Beck. A sweet, flirty smile that left them feeling their heart racing as crazy and their cheeks burning red, her dark eyes so into theirs that all their system collapsed... What was happening?

“Earth to Beck!”

Professor Roberta yelled, making Beck jump a little in their sit, breaking all eye contact between them both. When did Beck turn their body completely to watch Poppy? Of course the professor was mad, Beck was practically giving her their back! As faster as they could, Beck took the right seat, being even more embarrassed now while Poppy let go a chuckle, they could hear her from any other laughter just as clearly as if she were so close.

“Oh, sorry. I… Sorry”

“Find your community service project partner please” Professor said. Beck gathered their things and head into the aisle, looking around, praying to find someone whiling to work with them and, mainly, explain to them what was that project about. The thing was everyone had already a partner. Everyone except for…

The strawberry blonde was gazing Beck as sure as someone who´s waiting for this chance can be. Smiling that same smile that caused them to feel butterflies in their stomach… Beck wasn´t sure if they were aroused… or scared.

“Professor Roberta… I need a new partner” Beck practically begged. “I´m sorry. I just can´t work with Poppy.”

The pretty but odd teacher was about to say something. Something bad based on the expression on her face, but a perfect made-up laughter cut her words, as Beck was feeling how a soft and warm hand hooked to their arm.

“Nonsense, professor! I am pretty sure we´ll be working just fine.” Poppy said, a relaxed expression drawn on her porcelain face. “Let´s go, Hughes.”

Ok, Beck was now scared. As both of them walked out the classroom, Beck´s brain was running wild, thinking about every and each form Poppy could use to disappear them from the face of the earth. Ironic, Beck survived Farmsville but they´ll be totally done in New York. Ha! Life hates them.

“Listen, I know what you are thinking…”

Really?

“... but the last thing I need right now is having my GPA taken away. So I´ve already figured it all out. We´re doing an animal shelter commercial for our project. I can ask daddy to borrow the equipment and crew”

“Didn´t think of you as a daddy person” Beck laughed, a little more repose.

“Shut the fuck up, Farmsville. This will be easy, so all I need you to do is… Oh my god.”

Poppy stared at her phone completely in shock, color draining from her face as it was sucked by a dementor.

“I have to go. We can figure out the deets later, I´ll text you where to meet me”

Then, she just left. Beck took a deep breath and let out a hiss.

“Gosh, this school is going to kill me!”

They said, who would have thought a class could be so much?

-----

Next

[arigatouiris]

an unsuspecting matchmaker // kirishima eijiro

Author’s Note: Guess who loves Tamako love story? Me. I really love Mochizou and I personally think he’s the most adorable cutie ever but you know who else is equally adorable? KIRISHIMA EIJIROOOO. I just had to write this because it fits so perfectly! And honestly, angst to fluff is my favorite genre of fanfiction, don’t ya’ll agree?

Word count: 2841

Pairing: Kirisihma Eijiro x Dense! Reader

Warnings: angst to fluff, tooth-rotting fluff omg, mutual pining, dense reader

❝

Of all things that Kirishima Eijiro found frustrating, like leaving a tissue in his pockets, which he later finds after laundry day, spread out in tiny paper particles all over his pants, or the minute he got comfortable in bed and his bladder informs him that he really needs to pee, or something good happens in his life and his pinky toe decides to celebrate by violently hugging the corner of the table—you topped the list.

Now, why did someone so soft and courteous as Kirishima find you more frustrating than stubbing the pinky toe?

     “Hey, um, (l/n)-chan,” Kirishima spoke, rubbing the back of his neck. He turned to his friends, Mina, Sero, and even Bakugou, who sat at their respective seats, watching intently (although Bakugou pretended not to be too immersed in his best friend’s life, everyone knew he cared). “What are you doing today after school?”

You hummed. Tilting your head to the side, somehow turning Kirishima’s face almost as bright as his hair, you said, “Not sure. Do you have anything in mind, Kirishima-kun?”

Even you noticed the blushing. But, to you, it was just the summer. 

     “Come on, Kiri!” Mina whisper-yelled, unable to hold back.

     “He won’t do it.” Sero said, sadly, turning away.

     “It’s possible, I think she’ll finally get it?” Kaminari joined in, now focused primarily on his red-haired friend.

     “Shut the fuck up.” We all know who said this.

Kirishima cleared his throat once. Come on, he grumbled internally, it’s manly to ask the girl you like out on a date! He turned to you, a soft smile on your face, patiently waiting for him to say whatever he had in mind. Your head tilt didn’t help his heart, he almost felt faint. You always could make Kirishima feel like the exact opposite of his quirk, and that was something.

     “Would you... Would you...” Just say it! “Would you like to go out with me?” 

Your eyes widened and so did Kirishima’s. You put your hands together, a very happy smile on your face and Kirishima’s (including Mina’s, Kaminari’s, Sero’s and Bakugou’s current wide-eyed semi-surprised expression) eyes widened as if something huge was about to happen, but the very next thing you said was,

     “Can we invite Jirou-chan and Momo-chan too?”

Everybody’s expression fell, except yours. Kirishima paused for a second before taking a final look at how happy you looked, before Kaminari came to save his life.

     “Hey, Kirishima! Us boys are having a training night, want to join?” 

Kirishima spotted the look of pity that his blonde friend was giving him, but he wasn’t the sort to turn down a friend’s offer for help. He turned to you, who blinked widely at Kaminari’s suggestion and you nodded vigorously.

     “That sounds fun! We can go out some other time, Kirishima-kun!”

What you didn’t understand was why he gave you such a heartbroken look afterward. You heard him mumble a soft ‘yeah’, before following Kaminari out of the classroom. You bit your lip before wondering if you said something mean or harsh, but that was not the case.

This was why Kirishima found you more frustrating than stubbing your pinky toe. 

*

It wasn’t just that instance either. Kirishima had tried asking you out for exactly 19 times. It took him 19 times to realize that no amount of effort that he put can have any effect and during those 19 times, Kirishima painstakingly and undoubtedly fell more and more for you.

You were everything that inspired him to be better. You were hard-working, there were moments you were shy and insecure—every aspect you disliked about yourself, Kirishima loved; you were soft, and you were also someone people couldn’t mess with. You were technically a badass but were also cute most times. And the worst thing about you was the second you entered Kirishima’s mind, you would never leave.

It took over 5 attempts of asking you out for Mina Ashido to find out something was going on. She initially teased Kirishima and tried to help out (setting up the next 4 attempts) before eventually giving in and claiming that you were perhaps the densest person she knew. Even denser than Todoroki, who Kirishima suspected, also knew about his feelings for her. 

It was terrible and it gave him such heartache, he found it hard to concentrate in class. All he could think of was you—of how you’d smile at him, of how your eyebrows would scrunch up when you were angry, of how you’d offer to share lunch with people, of how you never judged anyone, of how you picked him up when he felt low, all things you and devastatingly you. He even once said ‘I like you’ to you but the way you responded shot his heart to the pits. 

I like you too, Kirishima-kun! You’re a great friend!

Some part of his mind, on his bad days, told him you were doing this on purpose. You were doing this entire dense act to let him know you weren’t interested in the same way, and that you were too kind to shoot him down directly. 

It was after the 19th attempt did Kirishima Eijiro start coming to class like a zombie. He barely responded to people with the usual excitement he normally had, he would nod and reply in one-word answers, and he would go back to his dorm after class, not uttering a single word. He would often look at your back and at you when you weren’t looking, but just as your eyes would meet his, he’d turn away with a sigh—confusing the heck out of you, and that was that.

Days passed like this and Mina and Sero felt terrible for their friend. Kaminari couldn’t utter a word (despite initially planning on letting you know very vividly that Kirishima liked you in a sexual way, but he knew he couldn’t do that to his friend). Bakugou looked like he didn’t care, but with the current predicament in class, Kirishima believed no one did. He burned with desire and had to keep quiet about it, and there was no bigger punishment than that. 

Perhaps, the tipping point arrived when you approached him that evening. He was training with Bakugou, the only time he couldn’t keep you in his mind—and suddenly, there you were. 

Bakugou paused even before Kirishima noticed you were there. Sweaty and covered in grime, Kirishima scoffed.

     “Tired already, Bakubro—”

     “Kirishima-kun?”

His head spun very quickly to you, almost giving him a headache. Bakugou wanted to vomit, but he stood there for a second before quietly walking away, giving his friend space. You approached him, with a worried look on your face, a worried look that shot Kirishima’s heart to the skies. Oh, how badly he wanted to be a minute to you; but you were already his eternity.

     “(l/n)-chan? W-What are you doing here?” He was genuinely confused.

     “I was just... I was worried about you, that’s all,” You put her hands in front of you defensively, “You... You didn’t seem yourself these past few days and I... I thought that... Maybe something was wrong?”

Kirishima’s heart was fragile and right then he wondered if it was made of glass. 

     “Nothing’s wrong, really, was just tired these days that’s all," he said calmly, although he felt something else. 

Kirishima felt dejected. Like he’d lost something he never quite had.

You instantly felt relief, trusting Kirishima to his words. And the instant he noticed the relief on your face, he clicked his tongue. Seriously, no one could be that brief. Even if it was a rejection, he deserved to hear it from you! A simple sentence would suffice, but this... This was just brutal.

     “I’m so glad—”

     “Stop it, (l/n).” He dropped the -chan.

Your eyes blinked at his form. His face was lowered, you couldn’t really see his expression clearly. You let out a weak ‘heh’, but in an instant, Kirishima’s hand grasped your wrist, holding you firmly to the spot. Your eyes went to where he held you, before slowly looking up at him. 

     “Kirishima... -kun?”

He looked up at you now with a serious expression. 

     “(l/n). I like you.” 

You were confused. He had said this to you before. You loved how he tried so hard to be good friends with you, and that made you want to make more of an effort with him. Kirishima had a heart of gold, and you adored it with all your being. Why was he suddenly...?

Your eyes widened.

     “You...” You weren’t sure if you had even begun to think of his feelings for you like that.

     “I like you. Not in a friendly way. More than that. Much, much more than that.” He looked almost desperate now, but the second he let go of you, you stumbled backward.

Your face was now rivaling his hair in color and your head felt dizzy. You felt like you were spinning and suddenly, you were on the ground.

     “Oi—”

You got back up in an instant, nodded vigorously before Kirishima noticed your expression. Your face was glowing red, something he had done, and you turned your back on him and ran. He clicked his tongue a second later after the shock settled. His heart no longer felt as if it belonged to him. It now felt as it had been stolen, torn from his chest by someone who wanted no part of it.

*

You woke up and walked to the dorm’s common area early that morning. Or, at least you thought it was early since no one was up yet. It was a Saturday, and you were glad there was no class. You could barely sleep, and you figured that lounging on your bed was worse than lounging on the couch and maybe you could ask someone for help regarding Kirishima.

You won’t lie—you have always had a soft spot for him. Ever since learning of his insecurities, ever since he smiled at you for the very first time, you were intrigued and that made you want to be a whole lot kinder to him. You were kind to everyone in hopes that no one would notice, someone as warm and happy as Kirishima wasn’t for you. So, even before your heart had begun to try, you had given up. You were sure no one had noticed this. You were sure that you were the only one who knew what you felt. 

But, you were wrong.

As soon as you sat on the couch, and let out a sigh, you heard,

     “You look like a fucking zombie.”

You yelped on the spot before turning to find Bakugou to your far left. He was sitting on the couch as well, leaning over it as if he had slept there. It was strange, you had never really seen Bakugou use the couch before. But, it was the common area, anyone could sit on the couch as long as they weren’t vandalizing it.

     “Good morning, Bakugou-kun—”

     “Don’t act so preppy when the day isn’t so great.” 

You paused. You looked at Bakugou with a confused expression. Blushing a bit, you looked for signs of Kirishima (who would always accompany Bakugou in the common area, but was nowhere to be found). However, before you could even ask,

     “Kirishima isn’t here,”

Your eyes widened and a soft gasp escaped your lips. You turn to Bakugou, to ask why, to ask if everything was okay, to ask about—

     “He won’t be either.”

     “Heh?” You felt your heart drop at his words.

What did he mean?

     “He’s going back home. He’s on his way now,”

You didn’t know what to take from Bakugou’s words. Your eyes were wide as Bakugou turned to you, before stating expressionlessly,

     “You can still reach him if you left now.”

You stood up way too fast. You bowed to Bakugou, who didn’t move a muscle.

     “Thank you, Bakugou-kun! The others are wrong, you do have a heart!”

Bakugou felt his cheeks redden with embarrassment before yelling,

     “Get the fuck out of here, dumbass!”

With that, you ran off. You felt your feet take you faster than it ever had before and despite your pounding heart, you knew you had to let Kirishima know the truth. All those times, every single time he had approached you, you had uncharacteristically shot him down like an idiot. Tears filled your eyes as you thought about the pain you had put him through. On how you had made him feel. 

You spotted Kirishima’s form near the gate, he seemed to be heading somewhere. 

Your pace slowed. You took a deep breath before screaming his name.

     “Kirishima-kun!”

He paused but didn’t turn around right away. You screamed before he could.

     “Eijiro-kun!”

Kirishima could identify the voice anywhere. Turning around, he spotted you, not too far away from him, before blinking rapidly at what you were doing there. (l/n)-chan? He thought, narrowing his eyes with confusion. He walked over to you, before noticing you gulp.

     “W-Wait there!” You yelled, forcing Kirishima to halt in his position.

     “(l/n)-chan? What are you... What are you doing here?”

     “Don’t go back home!” You yelled, your eyes shut tightly. 

     “Eh?”

     “Don’t go back! Don’t leave U.A!”

     “I’m just heading to the—”

     “Don’t leave me!”

Kirishima’s eyes widened. He stilled, unsure of how to respond. What did you mean by—

     “Eijiro-kun,” you slowly opened your eyes, “I like you!”

The way you looked at him right then, Kirishima knew. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He was merely heading to the store to buy some ramen since he was out, but he certainly didn’t expect this. He gulped before taking a slow step toward you, wondering if you were going to run like last time. Were you serious?

     “(l/n)-chan, I—”

     “Eijiro-kun, I like you! I like you, I like you, I’ve always, always liked you and I—”

In an instant, you were pressed against Kirishima’s rock hard chest, and you could hear it. His heart was beating rapidly against his ribcages, and you could feel how tense he was. He was almost unsure of the way he held you and before he could even doubt his reaction, your arms went flying around his torso. You grabbed on to him as if you were holding on for dear life, and he could feel himself melting.

He pulled away from you slowly, before looking into your eyes. You looked so shy, he couldn’t bear it.

     “I like you too, (y/n).” He dropped the suffixes all of a sudden and your eyes widened.

You liked it. “I... I like you more!” You fought back, fighting back tears.

     “This is a dream come true. I’ve always wanted one of these ‘I like you more’ debates. I’ll start,” You looked up at him as he was saying it, blinking your tears away, “I like you more. You go.” He said finally.

Kirishima chuckled before leaning down, breath fanning your nose. He noticed from the corner of his eye how red your cheeks got. Suddenly, he pictured you running away from him after his 19th confession. Suddenly, that image was hilarious and adorable at the same time. It was strange, how life worked.

     “I’ve taken debate classes,” You whispered now, your eyes slowly closing. “There’s no way I’d lose.”

And when he kissed you, he was thinking of one final thing. Kirishima Eijiro confessed to you a total of 19 times. You confessed once. Clearly, someone had an upper hand. 

*

Bakugou was woken up from the couch when Todoroki entered the common room. It seemed like everyone else was still lounging in their own dorm rooms. He cussed before shutting his eyes, ignoring Todoroki’s presence. However, Shoto had noticed something Bakugou had hoped no one had.

     “I came down to make myself some breakfast a while ago,” Todoroki’s voice was calm. “And I thought no one would be here. But I was wrong.”

     “Get the fuck out of this room, half and half bastard.”

Todoroki looked at Bakugou, attempting to shut his eye and get some shut-eye. It seemed so out of character for Bakugou to be in the common room without Kirishima. Todoroki smiled softly.

     “What happened with (l/n)?” Shoto asked.

Bakugou didn’t answer right away. He knew what Todoroki was asking about. 

     “A while ago, she was running out very fast.” 

Bakugou sat up before sending a death glare toward Todoroki, which he ignored gracefully. 

     “Just... a lie.” Bakugou said, feeling his eyebrow twitch with annoyance.

     “Hm?”

     “Told her that the ugly hair douche was leaving. She ran after him like a fucking idiot. He was only going to the store to get some ramen.”

     “A really evil lie, Bakugou,” Todoroki said, amused.

Bakugou scoffed, now getting up to head back to his dorm.

     “But, it’s nice. Considering they’re holding each other in the middle of the school grounds.” Todoroki said, plainly.

He heard Bakugou ‘tch’ once before leaving. Todoroki made sure to turn to the fiery blond before saying,

     “So, you really do care about your friends.”

Well, there was no hiding it.

❞

[jaxsteamblog]

Matchmaker Iroh

Click here to read the full fic on AO3

Suki and Sokka wouldn’t allow her to call the beach trip a bust, but it was definitely not as relaxing for Katara as she had hoped. Zuko was called away every night to eat dinner with his sister at the royal family’s beach house.  Katara, having not talked to Zuko about what she had overheard, was anxious about it every time.

It didn’t help that he didn’t seem to have much to say each time he returned.

On their last night in the beach house, Zuko ignored Azula’s summons and stayed with them. Suki found a closet where a bunch of old board games were stashed and they gerryrigged a system to make a drinking game out of Capitalism!

In the morning, as Katara cured everyone’s hangover before rushing to clean everything up, they realized that may have been a bad idea.

Going through the airport was easier this time since they were leaving the country, and Katara relaxed. She was able to enjoy first class, burying herself under everyone’s blankets and wearing the facemask that came in a sealed cellophane bag. Zuko got them champagne again and Katara heard the sound of the instant camera before a wave of laughter.

Smiling, Katara ignored them and attempted to move her arms over the bulk of four blankets to drink from her glass.

Customs in the Earth Kingdom gave her anxiety, but that was normal for any time she crossed a border. Still, they passed quickly and they moved together out of the airport.

“Did we want to get dinner?” Katara asked.

“No offense Katara, but I would like to spend some alone time with my bride-to-be.” Sokka said, putting his arm around Suki’s shoulder.

Katara rolled her eyes. “Okay, fine.”

“Want to go to the Jasmine Dragon with me?” Zuko asked. Feeling small, and unable to really say no without making it awkward, Katara nodded.

“Sure.” She said.

The taxis pulled up and Sokka and Suki waved as they grabbed one. Another followed and Zuko held the door open for Katara. Despite sending so much time with him, and sitting next to him during the flight, Katara felt cramped when Zuko slid in beside her and shut the car door.

His presence was much like his clothing, larger than she assumed and far too comfortable. He seemed relaxed and Katara put her elbow on the armrest inside the car door. Propping up her chin, the highway traffic passed over her eyes as she thought.

But to be fair, she wasn’t really thinking about anything. It was as if a neuron in her brain would suddenly go “Zuko!” and the others would nod sagely, as if coming to agreement over the concept of him as a being. Other thoughts like “I should see a therapist.” or “Spirits, what does being Queen even mean?” were met with similar chemical murmurings.

Zuko just sat next to her like one of those salt rock lamps. He felt calming, but his actual calming properties were yet to be determined.

When they got to the teahouse, Zuko pulled out their luggage and Katara started to fidget. Zuko, as he typically did, always looked casually formal. His jeans alone cost more than her whole outfit and his shirt came from a store Katara had never heard of. He would be fine strolling into the teahouse regardless of his standing as a prince.

Katara on the other hand was wearing hand cut jean shorts, a tank top that she picked up at a music festival, and tattered sandals.

Iroh’s comment about her youth clothing her in something enviable was falling flat at the moment.

“Ready?” Zuko asked, rolling her suitcase to her.

“Sure.” She replied, grabbing the handle.

They walked in together and Zuko smiled at the hostess before immediately diverting to the right. Walking past the main tea room, Katara realized there was a hall that fed to multiple rooms, even turning a corner.

“What’s in there?” Katara asked.

“Let me show you.” Zuko said and stopped at a door, opening it gently.

“Oh.” Katara peered in, looking at the neat little space.

“They’re for private events. There’s some temporary walls to open them up in a bunch of different configurations.” Zuko explained.

“How come I didn’t notice them at the party?”

“A lot of them were open, and they don’t actually fill the length of the main building. A lot of the nobility actually had their tables in here.”

“There was nobility?” Katara asked, half-laughing with shock.

“I’m telling you, there’s almost no difference between rich people and nobility except that rich people can make a vague claim to having an actual job.” Zuko replied and smiled.

“So where are we going?” Katara asked.

“To the last one.” Zuko said, shutting the door and continuing on. When they got to the last one, Katara could smell the cooking meat before Zuko even turned the handle.

Katara smiled as she saw Iroh, dressed in a kimono, crouched next to a grill with his sleeves tied back.

“Welcome back. You are just in time.” Iroh said, glancing up at them briefly before flipping over cuts of meat with his chopsticks. Katara and Zuko rolled their suitcases to stand next to the wall before kneeling at the table.

“Thank you for doing this Uncle.” Zuko said, picking up his own chopsticks and flipping over meat.

“After you had such a stressful time, I was glad to offer some respite.” Iroh replied.

“Stressful? Suki and Sokka got engaged.” Katara remarked.

“Yes, I heard! That is very exciting news.” Iroh said and sat back. As Zuko took over the cooking, Iroh freed the sleeves of his kimono while looking over at Katara and smiling.

“Do you suppose he will supply his own flowers?” Iroh asked her and Katara snorted.

“Are you kidding? Sokka is a meticulous planner, he wouldn’t let anyone else near it.” She replied.

“When do you think they’ll have the ceremony?”

“I’m not certain. It was a surprise to find out they wanted to get married.”

“Seriously?” Zuko interjected as he added vegetables to the grill. “Sokka has a domestic streak a mile wide.”

“Yeah but neither of them seemed the type for the frill.” Katara replied. Zuko shrugged and focused on his basting.

“Not every wedding needs frills.” Iroh added and Katara sighed.

“And not everyone gets the wedding they want.” She said, leaning against the table and resting her cheek on her fist.

“Are you engaged, Katara?” Iroh asked. Katara raised an eyebrow but shook her head, awkwardly as she didn’t move it from its stand.

“No, just prophesizing.” She said idly.

“Which we already established you are bad at.” Zuko stated and Katara rolled her head back to glare at him.

“Well, I will go and get the tea. Maybe it can help part the veils of the future for you.” Iroh said and huffed as he pushed himself up.

Katara smiled and blinked leisurely, looking around the room. It was nicely decorated but reminded her of a hotel room. It lacked personality.

“Are you doing okay?” Zuko asked.

Katara leaned back and flopped onto the table, watching him remove the food from the grill. He delicately laid everything out on plates and started to stir little dishes of sauce.

“When did you learn how to cook?” She asked instead of answering.

“Like I said, I lived with my uncle for a good number of years. Some of that time we were marching with his army down the western coast of the Earth Kingdom.” Zuko said. “Some nights if I wanted to eat, I had to make it myself.”

“You don’t sound like either nobility or rich people.” Katara said.

“And look at you, your royal highness, slouching all over the table.” He quipped.

Frowning, Katara sat up and took up her chopsticks, tapping them on the tabletop.

“Zuko there’s something I wanted to ask you.” She started.

Zuko looked at her, sliding over a plate.

“What’s up?” He asked.

“Did you ever-” Katara jumped as the door opened and Iroh returned with a tea tray. Setting it down, she helped him unload it as Zuko slid over his own plate.

“Tell me Katara, did you get to enjoy Ember Island? I know it is one of Zuko’s favorite places.” Iroh said.

“Is it?” Katara asked slyly, casting her gaze back to Zuko.

“We used to take family trips there when I was a kid.” He said and shrugged one shoulder up, picking at his food with his chopsticks.

“His mother had a fondness for the local theatre troupe there as well.” Iroh paused to chuckle. “They were awful.”

“It’s a shame we didn’t get to take in a show.” Katara said and picked up a grilled green onion.

“I had wanted to.” Zuko said with a sigh.

“Did they not have a show?” Iroh asked.

“They did. They’re doing a run of ‘Tales of the Avatar,’ but Azula kept calling me up for dinner.” Zuko said.

“Did you get everything sorted?” Iroh asked.

Katara narrowed her eyes as she looked between the two men.

“Solved enough. I’ll have to wait and see.” Zuko answered.

“What-” Katara began but stopped as Iroh picked up the teapot.

“My goodness, I haven’t even poured the tea. Here, Katara, let me have your cup.” He said.

The tea was good, a tangy sort of sour that went oddly well with the grilled meat. They talked and Iroh told stories of Zuko as a child. There was an incident with a turtle crab that, from Zuko’s face, didn’t seem like an accurate retelling.

To make him feel better, Katara related how, when she was first learning to control her bending, she had soaked Sokka while out fishing. And that for a long time, she would often have to change her direction so that her water went where she wanted it.

It was then that the conversation turned to bending in general, and the benefits of using other elemental styles. Katara agreed that it might work in principle but that the elements were too different to see any real use out of the other styles.

“Zuko, show her the Wyvern form.” Iroh said and gestured with his chopsticks. Zuko smiled and put his hands down on the table as he stood.

“Here.” Zuko said, holding out his hand. “It’ll look familiar.”

Katara felt her face warm as she looked at his hand but placed hers on his palm. His hand was warm and dry.

Helping her up, Zuko got into his stance and Katara tried to mirror it. Firebenders were light on their feet and displaced their weight differently, so it was an awkward placement. Zuko chuckled and walked to her, gently moving her feet by pushing on them with his. Then he held her waist as he angled her hips. Then he pushed out her arms, patting them when they were in place.

“Okay, so the movement is just based on circles.” Zuko said as he took his stance again. “Just follow me.”

She watched his movements, trailing her arms like a weird after image. When she fumbled, he stopped and approached her again.

“Here. It’s like your water whip.” He said and took her hands. Pulling them through some motions, Katara did recognize the feeling. But the water whip needed a deeper stance since she would have to pull the water around her. This form worked because the Firebender could produce their own flame.

“It’s not useful. It wouldn’t be able to hold much water.” Katara said, stepping quickly away from Zuko.

“But it could hold a nice array of ice shards.” He replied and sat back down at the table. Katara blushed and returned to her seat, taking up her teacup and drinking.

“Are you enjoying the tea, Katara?” Iroh inquired.

“Yes. But it’s,” Katara looked down into her cup, tilting it. “Different.”

“It’s sakura tea. The cherry blossoms are pickled.” He said.

“Uncle!” Zuko sputtered and Katara looked at him.

“I’ll go and get some more.” Iroh said, smiling in a grandfatherly way.

Zuko sighed and rubbed his face.

“What’s sakura tea?” Katara asked as Iroh rose and picked up the tray. He chuckled as she shuffled to the door.

“It’s served at weddings. It’s a lovers’ tea.” Zuko answered.

Katara spun around to see the door shut.

“He does know you have a girlfriend, right?” She asked.

“I don’t actually.” Zuko said and Katara turned back to him. “Not anymore.”

“What?”

“Mai and I broke up. It wasn’t going to work out the way we had thought it would.”

“Oh?” Katara asked, her voice shaky and lilting upwards to make it a question.

“She showed me that I deserved better than just living a repeat of my parents’ marriage.” Zuko shook his head and reclined on his cushion. “When I get married, I want it to be for love.”

“Right. The future.” Katara said. She frowned and nodded. “That makes sense.”

“It’s what we’ve got to deal with right? As royals?” Zuko said and Katara groaned.

“Don’t remind me.” She muttered.

“Hey, I’ve got your back. Anytime you want to talk about statecraft, you can give me a call.” Zuko said.

“Statecraft?”

“Sure. But we’re friends, you could ask me anything.” Zuko said and Katara blinked. “Except for anything about school.”

“School?”

“Summer’s almost over, Katara.”

“Right.” Katara said flatly. It was like her lungs couldn’t take in enough air.

“Did you need help moving?” Zuko asked.

Katara looked at him, feeling like her body was moving slower than the rest of time.

“Uh, no. Sokka and I usually make a day of it.” She answered. Zuko nodded and picked up his teacup to examine the contents.

“Well you’ll have to let me know if there’s a goodbye party.” He said.

“Yeah.” Katara drifted but caught herself and shook her head. “Yeah, no, of course.”

What just happened?

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

I really like me some good fics with a/b/o dynamics and actually wonders if you know of any where Stiles is an alpha and Derek is an omega? Sterek ofc ;)

Definitely. - Anastasia

Not Exactly Normal by tylerfucklin (orphan_account)

(1/1 I 4,081 I Teen)

This wasn't exactly what they had planned for.

I'll Love You for a Thousand More Years by PencilTrash

(1/1 I 4,380 I Teen)

“Reject me, Alpha,” Cora muttered, her voice low and trembling. She raised her head finally to meet Stiles’ stunned, confused gaze. “…please,” she added with steady but glassy eyes.[To stop recurring invasion threats from the Argent nation a few wolf nations decided to ally. Stiles Stilinski – the Alpha and the only heir of the Stilinski nation - was supposed to mate the Hale Omega – Cora Hale. But, things didn't quite go according to the plan]

Price of Admission by Anonymous

(2/2 I 6,629 I Explicit)

"Hi," the alpha said now, ambling forward with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. He was wearing a flannel shirt over an undershirt, and Derek realized abruptly that he himself was only wearing his boxer briefs. The cuffs rattled as he jerked in an instinctive attempt to cover himself. He was used to being naked, like any born wolf, but now, with a fully-dressed stranger looking over him with interest, he felt exposed.

Intruders didn't get sent home with a cup of tea and a pat on the head. That would send a signal that the pack was weak, that it couldn't defend its borders. Even if this alpha wasn't mad at Derek personally, he still had to do something to make it clear to other wolves they couldn't just cross into his territory, and Derek was the only intruder they had captured. He would have to bear the message for the whole group.

Derek gets caught trespassing on Stilinski pack territory. Stiles takes an interest.

And Pink Shoelaces by LupusScintilla (inkandblade)

(!/1 I 8843 I Mature)

It was Derek’s turn. It had to be. He looked at the comm-disc in his hand. Even if he had to debase himself with going to this damned matchmaking service, he was determined to find his mate.

lupine promises by Lexiliscious

(5/? I 14,623 I Not Rated)

He crumbled to his knees in front of the Alpha, stared at the ground. “Please.” He found himself whimpering through the pain; even though he wasn’t sure how his throat could be working with the way it was burning. “Please, I don’t want to die.” He begged, squeezed his eyes closed.He knew the rumors. ‘More wolf than man,’ they whispered, ‘Feral.’ He’d stolen the title of Alpha when he killed the man who'd killed his father and turned his best friend. He’d taken territory with a ruthlessness that hadn’t been seen since anyone had been able to change into an actual wolf. Rumors said he could do that, too, and some of them claimed he was never human to begin with- a wolf parading as a man.When he opened his eyes, there were human feet in front of him, and a clawed hand was tilting his chin up to force him to look into red eyes.“Okay.”Stilinski.

Never a Hardship by Julibean19

(1/1 I 27,601 I Explicit)

“Derek, meet Stiles, your new bodyguard,” Talia says.

Derek doesn’t get up. He’s frozen to his seat on the couch, staring at the man who will now be hounding his every step. “What’s a Stiles?” he asks dumbly, finally budging when his mother smacks him on the shoulder.

“That’s Chief Stiles to you,” his mother says, scolding him. Derek huffs in annoyance, wondering how this could possibly get worse. “Senior Chief Stilinski is a Navy SEAL, Special Operations Forces, and has been handpicked by me, out of several hundred options. You will treat him with respect and do what he says.”

“I’m a grown man, Madam President,” Derek says through clenched teeth. “You can’t expect me to listen to this guy. I don’t know anything about him."

Welcome to Supes! by maybaby34

(11/12 I 30,367 I Explicit)

“That’s the bouncer?” Derek asked, incredulously.

Laura laughed at his expression. “Hey, looks can be deceiving. All the time I’ve been coming here, it’s always been pretty peaceful. I also have a suspicion that everybody keeps the peace because they’re afraid that Stiles will talk them to death if they step out of line.”

Derek shrugged. Who was he to judge? He could scent Stiles from where he was and he smelled human.

“Just think about it though, a human bouncer in a supernatural bar?”

Laura smirked. Derek had the distinct feeling she knew something that he didn’t know. “I’m just sayin’, don’t underestimate him.” she said, cryptically.

(I Ain't Scared of the Fall) I've Felt the Ground Before by planiforidjit

(18/18 I 41,055 I Explicit)

"You know what the solution is," she says.

"What's the solution?"

"You get a mate."

"Thank you for that, Laura. I'll file it away with the other idiotic ideas I've already tried."

---

Derek is sick of being treated like he's property and he's sick of his family pressuring him to find a mate. So the obvious solution is to fake a relationship with Stiles Stilinski, the annoying lacrosse player and alpha that Derek may or may not be pining over anyway.

Can't Be Seen Alone by skinsharpenedteeth (Gavinscotts)

(9/9 I 42,933 I Explicit)

Derek needs a date for his company Christmas party to prove to his ex-alpha, Kate, that he is over her. With the help of Issac, Boyd, and Erica (mainly Erica) they find Stiles, the company psychologist and unassuming Alpha. Fake loves turns real when chemistry abounds but will their budding romance survive Kate's psychotic tendencies?

here comes trouble by grimm

(4/4 I 105,834 I Explicit)

All Derek wants is one day where he can sleep without worry of being woken by gunfire, without the threat of death hanging over his head. He wants a full stomach and no pain clinging to his bones, no ache in his feet from months of running. He wants a shower, a safe place to put his head. He wants his family, the healing comfort of pack. He'll never have any of that again.

[ddagent]

Tywin master of the ship anon here, I'm going to be that person, and request a prompt so it can be considered a verse. Of course, not only I'm ready to offer a jumbo sized bag of M&Ms I'm also aware that the muse might take her time with this one, and I'm totally okay with it.

*scoffs m&ms like they’re popcorn* Thank you for the prompt, Anon! If anyone has any one-time prompts you think deserve ‘verse’ status, let me know! And you’re right: my muse is a fickle bitch. She likes to jump around a lot. But I hope you like this story from the ‘matchmaker tywin verse’. 

Tywin Lannister did not care for fundraisers. The champagne was always flat; the canapes always lacking necessary garnish. He was constantly accosted by those wanting to ally themselves to the Lannister name or, worse, their considerable funds. Normally, Tywin would send Jaime in his stead. But tonight, the King’s Landing Museum of Ancient History was having their annual fundraiser and Tywin wanted to be on hand to make sure his plans continued to go accordingly. 

“Champagne, Sir?” 

A waiter, dark hair tinged with grease, presented Tywin with a tray of flutes. He waved his hand. “Scotch. Well aged. No ice.” 

“Um, uh, the bar is over—”

Tywin fixed the young man with a stare that immediately increased his stammer. Thankfully, for him, the museum’s new chief curator came to his rescue. Doctor Tarth laid a hand upon the boy’s shoulder, easy as she had a considerable number of inches on him, and pointed the lad elsewhere. “It’s fine; ask Gendry at the bar to pour two fingers of the finest scotch he has.” 

The waiter nodded and scurried away. Brienne Tarth appraised Tywin; her hands clasped and coming to rest in front of her stomach. “Mister Lannister, such a pleasure you could join us tonight.”

“Of course. Lannisters have been donors to the museum since it first opened. You are looking...” He trailed off; Brienne Tarth immediately flushing at his attempts to comment on her appearance. “...in accordance with the theme of the evening.” 

Brienne surreptitiously tugged at the hem of her dress. It was a deep blue, with a high waist and hem. As such, Doctor Tarth’s muscular legs were on full view for the museum’s patrons. The dress came together around her neck, leaving her broad shoulders open to the eye as well. A risque choice for a museum fundraiser, and certainly something she wouldn’t have chosen herself. But the drab grey gown she had dropped off to be cleaned would have done nothing to entice his son. 

So Lannister Holdings had purchased a dry cleaners, and here they were. 

“There was a mix-up,” Doctor Tarth began, taking one of the flutes from the young boy’s tray when he returned with the scotch. Tywin took a sip as Doctor Tarth gulped. “Anyway, we welcome your donation.”

“Actually, it will be my son who will be donating.” Tywin spotted him across the room. “Ah, there he is now.” 

Jaime had hoped to get out of the museum fundraiser by claiming there was a hefty amount of paperwork needed to close on a forthcoming deal. Tywin simply backed out. A few million dragons were nothing compared to seeing his son and heir wed and with children of his own. So here Jaime was, dressed in a tuxedo with a sapphire handkerchief that made it seem as if he and Doctor Tarth had paired their outfits. Tywin tried to keep a neutral facade as he took another sip of scotch. 

“Father,” Jaime said as he approached, taking the last flute of champagne. “Doctor–uh...” 

Jaime trailed off, rendered speechless by Doctor Tarth’s legs. His son was not restrained in his ogling: his pupils expanded; he loosened the collar of his shirt. Unfortunately, Doctor Tarth seemed to take this as some kind of mocking. Perhaps this will be harder than I thought. 

“Nice dress,” his son eventually said. “You couldn’t find anything with a shorter skirt? This is a family event.” 

Tywin sighed. Doctor Tarth snapped back. “This is a fundraiser for our schools program. It’s a good cause; not that I expect you would know much about that. How much pocket money did your father have to give you to smile and drink champagne all evening?” 

“More than you earn in a year. To just smile, and drink champagne.” Which he did at that moment. 

Doctor Tarth turned on her heel and stormed off in the other direction. His son watched her leave; fingers clutching the glass tightly as he stared at Brienne’s arse. 

“I loathe that woman.” 

Yet Jaime followed her, no doubt to engage her once again in a battle of wills. Tywin chuckled. The game continues.