#thank you tall claims court for this entertainment

[brainrot-has-overtaken-me]

Pleas watch the whole court case on Doc’s channel if you’re able to, it’s like the last 30 minutes or so of his episode 19, but im dying over the verdict

Doc is being sent to Air Jail like he’s a cat xD banished to playing SkyBlock instead of Hermitcraft for two weeks

[govindhtech]

Xbox Series X Refresh Upgraded by FTC Documents

Alleged Xbox Series X Refresh

Microsoft’s next Xbox Series X console is an all-digital system that comes equipped with a default capacity of 2 terabytes of storage space.

The plans that Microsoft has for its next Xbox gaming system have recently been revealed in its entirety thanks to a significant leak. The leak occurred as a result of unredacted papers that were posted as part of the current court dispute between the FTC and Microsoft over the latter company’s purchase of Activision-Blizzard for $68.7 billion. These documents were originally detected by Resetera. When dealing with leaks, you should always take the news with a grain of salt.

In addition to offering specs for what is thought to be an upcoming upgrade for the Xbox Series X (which is known by the codename Brooklin) and a new controller design (which is known as Sebile), the docs also show images of the device. The Xbox Series X has received an overhaul in the form of a brand-new design, which completely does away with the standard packaging.

Instead, it is a tall cylinder that is black in color and partly resembles the “trash can” Mac Pro from the past. Although it seems that this design is most suited for standing upright, we are curious as to whether or if Microsoft will include a plastic cradle attachment in the package so that it may also be placed horizontally on a shelf or entertainment center.

If you were thinking that the update will result in improved performance, you are going to be quite disappointed. Instead, Microsoft claims that it is improving the efficiency of the existing AMD Ryzen SoC by employing a new die shrink that is 6 nanometers in size. Because of the decrease in power requirements, the Xbox Series X now has an internal power supply unit that is 15 percent smaller than before, and its standby mode uses just 20 percent of the power that is necessary for the standard console.

The capacity of the internal SSD has also been increased from 1 terabyte to 2 terabytes, and the wireless radios have been upgraded to Wi-Fi 6E and Bluetooth 5.2 respectively. The removal of the internal Blu-ray drive, on the other hand, will almost certainly be seen as the most contentious modification.

It’s true that the Xbox Series X upgrade is an all-digital console; the presentation slide that was viewed internally at Microsoft described it like way: “Now adorably all digital.” The fact that players are still making extensive use of physical media is one of the most shocking ways in which gamers are made aware of the fact that the gaming industry is headed in this route.

A revised wireless controller that supports Xbox Wireless 2, Direct-to-Cloud, and Bluetooth 5.2 will be included with the purchase of a new Xbox Series X console from Microsoft. The controller has VCA haptics that double as speakers, precise haptic feedback, quieter buttons, modular thumbsticks, and an accelerometer. Additionally, the haptics provide haptic feedback. Additionally, the new controller comes with a removable and replaceable battery pack for added convenience.

According to the roadmap that was accidentally published online, the new wireless controller for the Xbox will be released by Microsoft in June 2024, while the updated Xbox Series X will be available for purchase in November 2024 for the price of $499. In September, Microsoft will release an updated Xbox Series S console (codenamed Ellewood) with 1 terabyte of storage, Bluetooth 5.2, and Wi-Fi 6E. The price for this console will be $299. Again, this information should be taken with a grain of salt until it can be independently validated.

[styx1an]

A Chat about Chat

A short fic about how Chat came to be a singular being, written by yours truly. By all means, this isn’t canon, it’s just my interpretation of things.

Word count: 1,863

Fandom: RTGame, Miitopia (NGL I’m a little displeased with how I wrote the ending, but oh well!)

You know, there is this odd sense of irony in knowing how terrified Chat was of Magical John when they aren’t even human nor a singular being in the first place. Wait, so you didn’t know? Of how they became such a being in the first place? (They chuckle.) Then I suppose that means I’ll have to tell you their story. Well then, shall we begin the tale of Chat? (You see the twinkle in their eyes. They must’ve been waiting a while to be able to do this.)

> You nod. You’ve been waiting a while to understand Chat’s origins. Tonight, like many others, belongs to the storyteller.

> You shake your head. No thanks, you think you’re too tired. Dawn shall rise anew soon, and you will not waste your time with tall tales.

(They nod, pleased with your decision.) Then I shall begin to relay their tale.

Our tale begins in the vast lands known as Twitch, a domain that belongs to another, a far crueler being whose tale is for another time. It is a place where one is free to express their opinions and whatnot (as long as it suits the many whims of its Amazonian overlords, of course), and many are versed in the easy to learn, but difficult to master art of gaming. Many such masters have gained a large following, and even if they do not possess such skill, more often than not their humor and charisma paves the way to fame.

One example of the latter would be RTGame, a man of sizable repute. Aside from the frankly ridiculous story of the origin of his moniker, he is also known for doing some… questionable things for the sake of entertainment. There are still tales of his quest in the bathtub along with Gilbert (yes, the very same Gilbert on the quest to defeat The Darker Lord Khadgar!), the night of the Painted Wall’s Communion, the birth of Mr. Compost- But my dear, we are here for one of his lesser-known exploits, one that would change the world as we know it.

> You lean closer to the campfire, watching the storyteller with a renewed interest. Where does the tale lead? Where does it end? You need to know.

> It’s getting even later. You think some rest will be needed before tomorrow’s travels begin. Perhaps the rest of the story can wait another time?

It was a dark and stormy night. The then-Dark Lord Von Karma had just been unleashed upon the land, and I Want Die set along the path of salvation with his fellow party members, Mr. Bean the Warrior, Goofy the Thief, and Mint the Horse. He was pleased with the ease with which they vanquished monsters and saved (literal) faces, but the lack of actual conversation within the party had begun to get to him. Mr. Bean had nothing to offer other than a simple “Bean!” every now and then, and Goofy terrified him with all the “hyuck!” and talks of absolving the world’s many sins. Mint is a horse and therefore cannot participate in a verbal conversation unless you happen to understand what her neighs meant. She also happens to be the most normal member of the party, strangely enough.

Either way, I Want Die longed for a proper conversation.

And God took notice.

It was inevitable. The fourth party member was always going to join, whether he wanted one or not. It shouldn’t be notable in any way whatsoever, yet here I am regaling this tale to you.

It is not how Chat had come to join the party that I wanted to explain, but rather how they came to be.

Do you remember the man I had called RTGame? I hope you had not thought of him as irrelevant to our tale, as he is the patron saint of I Want Die’s adventures. Surely you know of the vast armory that belongs to the party? The various delicacies fed to the team? All his work. Along with his followers’ contributions, of course.

Chat was what he called his followers, the ones who watched his various endeavors as he traveled across the land of Twitch. Oftentimes the crowd would conversate with him (hence their name), offering jokes and sardonic commentary whenever he did anything remotely comedic. Other times, RT would have to tell them off for being such a rowdy bunch- the usual group of thousands could never keep quiet for long.

It happened that Chat witnessed I Want Die’s pilgrimage along with RTGame. They all looked upon him with a jolly sense of humor (after all, their master is well-versed in the art of comedy), some wondering where his travels will bring him. The others who knew how it would all end kept silent at the behest of RTGame. Either way, every single one of them was enjoying the show he had put on for them. 

And came the time to summon the fourth member.

As per usual, RTGame withdrew into his workshop, closing the curtains around him so no curious onlooker could see inside. But that did not stop Chat from yelling their predictions and demands.

“EDGEWORTH” one cried.

Another begged for a certain “End Mii!”

“CHAT CALM DOWN!”

“!uptime”

“69420toesucker just subscribed for 5 months!”

“TURG”

RTGame smiled at them. He wasn’t surprised at all at their reactions, rather it was something he had hoped would happen.

“Alright then Chat,” he said, “here they are!”

His pale, thin hands reached out to open the curtains-

And unveiled a faceless, empty husk of a being. 

Under any other circumstances, Chat would’ve rioted, demanded justice against the irony of sending a faceless doll to retrieve the faces of others. But they had no time.

Almost in an instant, the skies darkened. Clouds swirled up above with vibrant shades of violet, cobalt, magenta. Bright blue lightning strikes a tree and dissolves it into dust. Somewhere distant, something roars. The air feels thick- something magical, something electric is positively buzzing. Magic truly is in the air.

And thunder strikes once again. 

The crowd is gone.

Silence fell. All that is left is the master and the doll, no longer an empty husk.

> You look up to the storyteller, their eyes reflecting the blazing flames. You have a feeling that you know how this ends, but you’d rather have them confirm it first.

> You’re sleepy. As tempting as it is to continue listening to their story, you must admit that the very idea of slumber is even more tantalizing.

RTGame had managed to do exactly what he wanted. Chat’s consciousness, placed inside of a single, physical being. A puppet controlled by a hivemind would not be very easy to control, yes. But the idea intrigued him. And wouldn’t it be better than having a large gaggle of people constantly behind him, watching his every move? It could help I Want Die on his journey too.

So it is settled. It happened that one of the members of his temple had just crafted a rather nice puppet, in case RT needed one. And he did come to use it. It does look a little plain, as both body and head are painted in the same shade of bright white. However, the face was not white like how it was in the beginning, but a disturbingly pitch-black space. No, that’s not the right word.

Rather, it was like a void had formed. That’s also not the right phrase to describe it either, as there were drops of ichor dripping down onto the ground, dissolving the once green grass. But I digress. 

Chat broke the silence that had fallen between them, wailing as a cacophony of noises and emotions spilled out. Despite what RT had done to them, they were still determined to voice their opinions. Quite in character, really. 

“RT WHAT”

“NO NO NO”

“!uptime”

“I'M ON TV!!!”

“bazingabanana just gifted 5 subs!”

“that’s kinda meta”

As their voices grew louder, ichor kept pouring out of the void. As expected, RT thought to himself. He still needs to act fast. So with a quick snap, he fastened a wooden mask the temple-goer made; the same shade of white, a pair of beady black eyes almost as dark and soulless as the void, bright purple ears. 

The yelling and complaining didn’t stop of course. Still, as their voices were muffled by the mask, it was an arguably better experience than the previous ear-splitting wails. And it was less deadly too. Ichor had stopped dripping down onto the grass, which meant that the constant sizzling would finally stop.

Now, one last thing.

RT stared into Chat’s eyes.

This in itself wouldn’t have been quite a remarkable action had it been anyone else, but it’s Chat that we are talking about. The very sensation of doing something as simple as gazing into a hivemind’s many souls wasn’t anything ordinary, either.

It felt like you had just plunged one of your hands into ice-cold water in the middle of winter and not only are you freezing, you’re scared and you don’t know whether you’d come out in one piece.

They all stared back. Thousands and thousands looked upon RT, all different yet whispering the same things, each claiming to be an individual yet virtually nothing distinctive belongs to them. A true hivemind. It’s exactly what he wanted, but he wondered if perhaps other troubles would arise.

He let himself go from their gazes. It asks too much of him.

“Alright then, Chat. Ready?”

A gaggle of voices reply, sounding their agreements.

“OK then!”

--

I Want Die finally opened the inn door, after convincing himself that he’d like this new friend. That this one would be neither an anime villain, a comedy star or a horse. Someone with actual rational thoughts and words to speak.

In front of the door stood a short figure, clad in a purple mage’s robes. Their pitch-black eyes looked at I Want Die, and a chorus of voices came from their permanent smile:

“Hi, I’m Chat!”

And I Want Die wondered if he had forgotten to cross off ‘hivemind’ off his list of potential party members.

Chat’s introduction ends here, of course. But not their tale. The journey was far from over in fact. The party had yet to meet the Royal Court, witnessed the court’s love affair, or get kidnapped by the Dark Lord Von Karma. Even the party wasn’t complete, as it was only the first party I Want Die would encounter in his tale of redemption.

And it’s not the only story either. You haven’t heard of Magical John’s past life, or how Cupcake isn’t as pure as she seems. Gilbert’s fear of the kitchen. How Jefferson came to be, and Obama’s past life with Mr. Bean.

But I’m afraid I must stop here, for it is late already, is it not? Our journey must continue tomorrow. Let us rest. Goodnight, may the stars shine for you. (They head off into their tent, leaving you alone with the flickering embers of a dying fire.)

> You bid the storyteller goodnight. Perhaps they’ll tell you another one of their stories, underneath the moonlight once more.

[haikyuu-appreciation-club]

oh my bad, i didn’t see you didnt write for atsumu or sakusa. can you do the same headcanons (s/o who’s smol and fragile) but with kuroo, bokuto, and oikawa? if possible, i would still like to see these headcanons with atsumu and sakusa <333

hey hey hey anon!! ty for the requests :)

I think this is such a cute idea (´♡‿♡`)

I just started watching S4 soo I'll save your other request for atsumu and sakusa in my inbox and get to that once I'm done!!

in the meantime, I hope you enjoy some of my favorite captains <3

btw sorry it’s definitely not my best, I was having major writers block so this is basically all I could manage :(

•Kuroo, Bokuto, and Oikawa w/ a Small and Fragile S/O•

warnings: none

genre: fluff

characters: kuroo, bokuto, + oikawa

•Kuroo•

Kuroo had teased you about your height ever since the two of you had become friends

it was his way of playful flirting, harmless really

“Ah, hey there chibi-chan, still need help with that chem assignment.”

“I thought I told you to quit calling me that.”

“Aw, but it suits you.”

It was all harmless until he began to actually fall for you 

the way your laugher erupted through the air at one of his stupid chemistry jokes or how you would never fail to flash a pretty smile and throw him a wave whenever you two were near

every single thing about you drew him in and he just had to make you his, so that’s exactly what he did you said yes obviously

even though he spent quite a bit of time with you before making things official, he never realized how prone to injury you were

seriously you got hurt so often it was crazy

at first he thought it was just bad luck until he noticed that you collided with the majority of things that were in your path

it was actually quite entertaining to him a lot of the time, but even if he let out a chuckle he would always take care of you

didn't matter if it was him grabbing the first aid kit from the gym or keeping you company in the nurses office while you got checked out

as much as he loved to tease you for everything, he was always right by your side 

even though he put on a calm and collected front, he got worried every time you got hurt

it didn’t matter how minor or major the injury was, he just wanted to make sure you were okay

he was always making sure you were taking care of yourself too

making sure you ate and drank water and took care of your injuries when needed

sometimes he’d even tease you by buying you a carton of milk and claiming that you needed it for bone growth

he definitely could be a huge pain sometimes, but it always brought a smile to your face

with your height differences, his favorite thing was to pick you up by your waist, hold you up high, and spin you around

he didn’t care who was watching, all that he was focused on in that moment was the lovely smile stitched on your face

he loved to lean down when you were standing around or talking with someone and rest his chin on your head and wrap his arms lightly around your neck

this was especially common when he noticed someone else trying to flirt with you, a piercing gaze followed as well in these situations

if anyone tried to tease you about your height he would pick you up, throw you over his shoulder, and run the opposite direction hey problem solved

as much as he teased you himself, he was always making sure to let you know how much he loved you just the way you were

he always eased you insecurities and whispered compliment after compliment in your ear when you were down

he was your #1 hype man no matter the time

he truly saw you as perfect and he wouldn't mind spending the rest of his life letting you know

•Bokuto•

when you and bokuto first met, he was very upfront about your height

"HEY HEY HEY! Wow, you're super tiny!”

cue your pouting

bokuto noticed your change of expression and quickly saved himself

“OH! No no, not in a bad way, like a cute way, you know? Tiny and squishy!”

cue him pinching your cheeks like an old lady

Akaashi ended up dragging him back to practice but not before he turned your cheeks bright red, from the excessive pinching and his comments

after that incident, you saw bokuto a lot more

usually due to you bumping into him in between classes

you didn’t mean to but he was just so tall and you were just so clumsy

those situations usually ended with you both apologizing profusely to each other while bokuto walked you to the nurses office

overtime, you two grew closer and closer and eventually made things official 

despite all the energy he had, he was always very gentle with you

he knew he could get a little much at times and with how easily you got injured he wanted to make sure he was never the one causing you pain

his touch was always very soft and loving, allowing you to feel just how much he cared

since you would get hurt so often he would always carry bandaids in his school bag they had little hearts on them

he would drop anything he was doing and sit you down to place a bandaid and a kiss wherever the damage was

“There you go, Dr. Bokuto is always at your service Y/N.”

“Thank you Bo.”

if it was something more intense he would walk you to the nurse’s office, hair drooping and tears in his eyes

he honestly hated seeing you hurt or in pain

if he could, he would take away any and all of your discomfort

he just wanted to see you smiling, that was his favorite look on you

no matter how much you would tell him you were okay he still would not leave your side until you got fully cleared by the nurse and the rest of the day he would be clinging to you with a pout stitched on his face

he adored the height difference between you two

your small hand fit perfectly in his and the was your tiny figure molded into his when you two cuddled felt right

he knew that sometimes you could get a little insecure

he never really understood why you couldn't see yourself how he saw you but that didn't prevent him from bring you up and letting you know exactly how he saw you

he truly saw you as the most flawless person he’s ever seen

compliments were always followed up by a lot of hugs and kisses

he always felt like you deserved to feel like you were on top of the world so giving you piggy back rides or letting you sit on his shoulders was his favorite thing to do

he never missed the laughter that escaped your lips when he would pick up speed definitely his favorite sound ever

his main goal was to protect you from anything and everything and make sure you were loved

and he succeeded with that each and every day

•Oikawa•

oikawa had had a thing for you since middle school

you never really thought much of the way he would act towards you due to his high popularity

honestly, you just thought he was being polite

that was until he asked you out your first year of high school

ever since then you became aoba johsai’s power couple

you didn't really care about titles though, all that mattered was that you and oikawa were happy

and contrary to popular belief, oikawa was a really great boyfriend

he never failed to make you feel appreciated and cherished

he honestly just couldn’t believe he was with someone so perfect, and honestly the blush that spread across your cheeks was just too cute to pass up

this didn't excuse you from oikawa’s teasing, your height being a main target

“Y/N-chan, mind if I rest my arm here, it’s so tired from practice”

“Tooru, get your gross, sweaty arm off my head.”

“Ahh so mean baby.”

although he never missed the opportunity to rile you up about you height, he always recognized when to stop and followed it up with a bunch of compliments

he knew it could be an insecurity of your sometimes and he would never dream of making you feel less then perfect

if any of his fan girls tried to mention something involving your height, he didn’t hesitate to confront them

occasionally going the extra mile and pulling you into a loving kiss right in front of them

he didn’t care if they stopped supporting him, he had you by his side and that was more then enough 

although you usually got hurt quite often, that all stopped when you started dating oikawa

you honestly couldn’t believe it at first

all the scratches, scars, and bruises that frequently littered your body and slowly healed over time and no new ones took their place

you could not wrap your head around how he managed to do it

he was very observant and almost had this sixth sense when it came to you and your injuries

usually catching you before you fell, pulling you out of the way of something, or grabbing something and moving it away before it could cause you harm

you were practically like a small child he had to watch

he always followed up his smooth movements with a flirty remark

“Ah ah ah, you have to be more careful Y/N-chan, I'm the only one you should be falling for.”

although he loved spending any moment with you, his favorite memories had to be watching you in the stands during one of his games, cheering for him

his jersey was so big on you, he found it so adorable it always smelled like you when you returned it which was a huge plus

his favorite thing to do during games was throw you a wink before each serve he did, watching you laugh and wink right back

he always played his best when you were there

watching you from the court made him fall in love with you all over again

you were his world and he would make it his top priority to remind you of that each and every day

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

[sleepylixie]

Lost Boy

Swan Prince! Felix X Princess! reader 

Fantasy AU, Retelling of the Swan Lake. 

5k words, Romance(Fluff/Angst), Beware of mentions of death(Only mentions, with respect to curses and general dark magical behaviour)

A/N: @crscendoforsung​ hallo, Soro!! Tis me, your Secret Santa!!! You’ve been such a sweet soul (That Jisung anon of yours is so cool. btw-) and I hope you like this little offering to make the end of your year a little bit sweeter! This idea seemed to fit your vibe (and Felix) too well, so I just had to give it a spin~ This here marks the start of Christmas on Sleepylixie!! As always I will be incorporating high fantasy into the stories you will be seeing and I hope all of you enjoy reading them! Huge thank you to @aliceu @decembermoonskz and @seraplantery for helping me through moments of writers block hhhh- Do let me know what you think, my ask box is open!~

Drop me an ask! || Masterlist

I love you as misfortune loves orphans, as fire loves innocence, and as justice loves to sit and watch everything wrong. -Lemony Snicket

The first time you met him was quite by chance. You’d broken away from your maids,  eyes glowing in the darkness as you strolled through the woods, humming an odd tune to yourself. It was a full moon night, so you’d headed out under disguise for a night time frolic in the nearby woods. You’d forgone the heavy skirts and tiaras of your royal wardrobe for the looser bodice and thinner skirts of a homespun dress your maid lent you, tendrils of breeze and grass grazing your ankles as you moved. 

All too suddenly, you stumbled  into a clearing by a lake- it was small but beautiful, almost ethereal with it’s still waters and edges disappearing into the shade of the trees. But what caught your eye was a slash of  of white against the darkness of the far shore- upon squinting, you realized it wasn’t a bird, but a boy. Evidently, he’d noticed you too, because he straightened up from his kneeling position, head cocking to the side as his eyes scanned yours.

You smiled at him uncertainly, unsure of whether you were invading a moment of privacy or worse, a moment of dark magic. Your own magic roiled inside you, careful of the possible threat this boy could pose to you. However, he only smiled back, and stepped onto the water- walking over the surface, almost gliding across the lake to your side of the shore. He didn’t leave a single ripple in his wake, almost like he was just an apparition floating right above the water. You watched in silence as he he stepped out of the lake, coming to a stop in front of you.

He was slight in build, almost birdlike- but his shoulders seemed strong under his white and gold outfit. His bright golden eyes curved softly above his cheekbones, burnished bronze hair falling elegantly over the planes of his forehead.

“Hello, mortal.” His voice was deep, instantly sending shivers of wonder down your spine. “Or should I say royal?” He smiled, rosebud lips parting slightly as he nodded at the signet ring on your finger, the only sign of your heritage. He had a sharp eye for detail, this strange boy who could walk on water. Perhaps he was Fae?

“You know of my heritage, but I know not of yours,” you hedged, not wanting to give him your name; names held power, after all. The boy grinned wider, poking his tongue into his cheek as he eyed you amusedly. “You may call me Felix, darling.”

He wasn’t Fae, after all. He was from a far off land, he said, beyond the bounds your kingdom knew of.  He was to stay in these very woods as an apprentice with a family of magic wielders and alchemists. He was an easy talker and an even easier listener; he enjoyed your accounts of the royal court and the parlour you presided over and your evenings of sneaking past the guards into the night markets.

It was a peaceful time with him, walking amongst the woods- you forgot that you were supposed to be with your maids, basking in the new companionship you’d found. You enjoyed Felix’s company, you realized as the night wound down, making way for a new dawn as Felix led you to the edge of the woods.

“You must come see me in the castle gardens,” You smiled, clasping his hands in yours. Felix eyed your intertwined hands before looking back up at your face. Your eyes were bright, your skin glowing against the soft morning sun. “It is a glorious place, you will love the magical herb-house, and oh, the fountain too-”

“I would be honoured, princess.” He bowed his head slightly, suddenly shy. “But I am a being of the night. Visiting after twilight isn’t the most becoming of a lady of your stature, I’m certain.”

Your brows furrowed; he was right, but you did not want to entertain the possibility of never meeting your new friend again. Stars knew when you’d get to sneak this far out of the castle again. “It matters not, dear friend.” you declared. “I shall slip past the guards into the garden, if it allows me to see you again. That is,” you fumbled, a wave of awkwardness invading your mind as you dropped his hands and stepped backwards.  “That is, if you would wish to meet me again, I do not mean to impose-”

“As I said, princess,” Felix smiles-no, smirks, backing up into the trees, almost melting into the shadows. “I would be honoured. Until next moon, then.”

//

True to his word, you saw him standing next to the fountain from your room balcony the next full moon. Slipping past your guards and into the garden, you found Felix gazing around in wonder, eyes bright as he took in the sight.

The wide fountain was set in the center of a large square hedge of rose bushes. At the center of the fountain was the sculpture of a long-haired mermaid with a trident in her twisted hands, face serene as water gushed around her stone-scaled tail. At night, the water shimmered in the moonlight and the soft glow of the moonflies that flitted around the area, making the scene all the more exquisite.

You loved the privacy and peace the fountain provided you, with the tall rose hedges and the flow of water. The moment you stepped into the hedge, Felix’s eyes shot towards you, widening in wonder. You were dressed in lilac gossamer, a silver cape akin to butterfly wings draped over your shoulders and a matching silver wreath woven into your hair... You looked less like the girl-next-door he met and more like the heiress of the kingdom he lived in. He averted his eyes, rubbing the back of his neck. “You… You look breathtaking, Your Highness,” he murmured, bowing low.

You giggled as you walked towards him, your skirts dragging on the grass. “Felix, please. I’m no more than the girl you met at the lake during the last moon. I plead you to not see me otherwise when I am dressed in the garb of a royal.” He straightened up and smiled at you, his demeanor relaxing almost instantly after hearing your familiar voice. He looked almost angelic in the light of the moonflies, bouncing off the glitter on his eyelashes.

“As you wish, princess.” He turned back towards the fountain, letting his fingers trail in the shallow water of the pool as he sat on the edge. “You were correct, this garden is a work of art.”

“It is, isn’t it?” You responded, sitting next to Felix on the edge of the pool, uncaring of your pretty garments. “The gardens take up a good half of the castle grounds. I love spending my nights there. The herbhouse, in particular. We grow a lot of the kingdom’s alchemical herbs ourselves, so I’d suggested we supply them to those who need it for no cost.” Felix glanced at you in surprise, his fingers twirling together two streams of water from the pool. “That’s generous.”

“It’s our duty as royals to make our subjects’ lives as easy as we can,” you shrugged, leaning your head back to watch the stars. “While levying taxes is a necessity, it felt prudent to cut down costs for a normal man and make alchemy available to all. Knowing what herbs are used for what can save lives someday.”

“That’s very noble of you, princess.” He murmured, his lips quirking up as he stared into the night sky. “I’ve seen royals that are drunk off the crown’s power to the point of greed and gluttony. But here you are, giving everything you can for your subjects. It’s admirable, really.”

“As I said, it’s my duty.” You let your attention slip to the pretty shapes Felix was conjuring out of the pool’s water. “Now, tell me, how has your time in the woods been?”

//

As you grew into adulthood, your daily responsibilities became larger, but you welcomed it. You’d trained and studied for years so you could take on the mantle of crown royal for your kingdom, and you were only too willing to make your contribution to council meetings and parlour galas alike. However, your friendship with Felix was like a safe haven from the day’s happenings, a space where you could just be Felix’s companion and not a royal with responsibilities.

The both of you grew more and more comfortable with each other, letting yourself slip into familiarity when you were together. You showed him all your favourite corners of the garden, but your favourite place to spend time together was at the mermaid fountain. You’d always meet there at the last midnight chimes on full moon nights and sit at the stone edge, talking and flicking water at each other.

He would always bring you enchanted wreaths of flower crowns that wouldn’t wilt for weeks- it was for you to remember him by until the next full moon, he claimed. You would wear them everyday until the magic wore off, counting down the days until you got to see Felix again.

The first time you met him was quite by chance. It had been almost a year since you’d begun to meet Felix in your expansive garden. He was waiting for you by the fountain, just as he had a year ago- but something was different. He’d normally be trying to catch the moonflies or playing with the pool’s water, but today he was looking straight at the entrance of the hedge, almost like he was waiting for you.

“Good evening to you too, sunshine.” You smile, walking straight into his arms, as you always did. Hugs were your way of greeting your magical friend from the woods, once you’d caught on that Felix loved physical affection. He’d normally catch you and swing you around, the two of you trying to stifle your laughter as he set you down. This time however, he pulled you closer by the waist, pressing you to his body as he nuzzled his nose into your neck. A shiver of apprehension slithered down your spine. This wasn’t normal.

You pulled back, but his arms tightened around you, restricting your movement- and that was when you noticed it. His normally gold eyes were the darkest shade of obsidian black, his lips pulled back slightly in a smirk. Instead of his usual outfit of golds and whites, he was dressed in stark red and black, making you stumble back at the realization. In your haste to see him again, you hadn’t noticed his clothes, demeanor or eyes, none of which alluded to the boy you were used to meeting.

“You’re not Felix.” You said out loud, hoping against hope that you were wrong. But the boy that stood before you cocked his head, an action that you were so used to seeing from your friend but right now, looked like a foreign action of pure impertinence. “What makes you think so, princess?” His smirk grew wider. You stood your ground, hackles rising at the almost insulting tone he was using. “Was it the clothes? Or maybe the fact that I’m making it obvious how much I enjoy touching you?”

Your teeth gritted as you let out a snarl of your own. “ Watch your mouth, Felix.”

To your surprise, Felix let out a laugh, sticking his tongue in his cheek- another familiar action that seemed disrespectful on this.. This impostor. “Are you scared of me, sweetheart?” He cooed, taking another step towards you. Your magic stuttered to life as adrenaline rushed through your body, an invisible protective forcefield molding itself around your body. “Oh, that’s adorable.” He laughed again, loud and derisive. “That forcefield doesn’t hold a candle to my kind of power, princess.”

“If you’re Felix, prove it.” You demanded, the fear sharpening your senses to cold awareness.  He rolled the cricks out of his neck, training his jarringly black eyes on you again. “We met at a lake a year ago this day. Or rather, you met my twin. He’s the one you’ve been meeting all this while, although I’m loath to admit it. I guarantee you, I’m much looser with my tongue than my damned twin is.”

“If Felix is your twin, what’s your name?” Your voice was cold, devoid of the fear that was rippling through your veins at the moment. “I’m Ellix. Pleased to make your acquaintance, princess,” he spit the endearment out like a curse, dropping into a mocking bow. When he rose, his lips quirked up in the same arrogant smirk, his hands running through his hair. “And who said anything about different bodies?”

//

A quiet knocking awoke you from your slumber the next night, prompting you to sit up and pull the bedcovers over your body. Were you hallucinating? You hadn’t slept at all the previous night, still reeling from the oddity that was Felix. You ordered him to leave the premises immediately after his strange declarations of having a twin… in the same body? He’d held his arms out, pouting for another hug, but you snarled at him until he left. 

Another knock brought you out of your reverie; you were definitely not imagining it. Pulling a robe around your body, you stepped out into the balcony, to be faced with an unfamiliar boy standing next to the railing, his hands twisting together nervously. He had jet-black hair that engulfed his forehead and high cheekbones that made his round eyes look bigger. Your heart dropped slightly; you were hoping it was Felix, here to explain himself. You needed explanations, and your midnight companion was the only one who could give them to you.

“Your Highness, Many apologies for the late hour.” the boy bowed, his voice high for a male, yet smooth- you shook yourself. You were comparing his voice to Felix’s infinitely deeper one. “Who might you be?” You questioned, your voice even.

“I.. well, I’m Han Jisung, your Highness. I’m from the Twilight Woods. You’re Felix’s companion?” The mention of  Felix’s name had you jolting to attention, but you kept your face schooled to polite indifference. “What is it to you?”

“I heard that he.. He wasn’t himself when he came to you the previous night. I felt it prudent to come to you with the information you must be seeking, because Felix won’t tell you himself.”

“On whose authority do you hold this information, Jisung?” you demanded- you were not going to be duped by dark magic. You magic probed him shamelessly for traces of dark magic, turning up with nothing but an airy silence. “On my own, your Highness,” Jisung smiled sadly. “I’m one of the people who know the truth. I’m His Highness Prince Felix’s elder brother, second in line to the Twilight Throne.”

//

“The Twilight Woods outside your kingdom has had its own royalty, ever since it’s inception. We preside over the woods and the surrounding lands and make sure our subjects don’t wreak too much havoc in your lands. Our folk are wilder, they live much longer than your subjects outside the woods and reside further into the woods than any of your folk would dare to wander. The lake you met my brother at is one of the entrances to our kingdom. For the past 200 years, our uncle has ruled the Twilight Woods. His 3 daughters were in line for the throne- but Mina abdicated and Chaeyoung ran away, leaving only… Sana.

“Everybody knew that she was courting the darkness, with her obscene interest in blood magic. When the King our uncle found her in the middle of a pentagram with her hands wreathed in shadows and her lips red as blood, he knew Sana was beyond help. He had her banished immediately, leaving only my little brother and I as choices for ascension to the throne.

“My brother is blessed with an almost endless bank of magic, but he was a creator first, a royal next. His dream was to become an alchemist, providing treatment and protection to the kingdom with his potions. The kingdom loved him, as did our uncle. He saw greatness in my little brother- in his golden heart, infinite power and unflinching moral compass so he chose Felix as his heir apparent.

“The kingdom rejoiced the new era of their to-be king. The coronation was to be the most special day of all our lives. But that Christmas Eve, days before the coronation… Sana broke through the kingdom’s defenses and ravaged her way to the castle. She trapped Felix in a wall of fire in the throne room, rendering any of us unable to help.

“Even his endless power was no match for the abomination she’d become. When she subdued Felix, she.. she placed a curse on him, condemning him to the life of a wordless bird- a swan by day and only reverting to himself by night. She… She gave him no ultimatum. Just that… that she’d give him 50 years to try and find a loophole, just for her sick amusement. If he failed, he would spend the rest of his existence as a swan, completely losing his humanity.

“What we didn’t anticipate was his magic taking a hit from the curse. The internal war his endless magic had with Sana’s curse had created a.. Well, a dark alter ego. We… We called him Ellix. One that was consumed by his base desires and lacked the grace that my brother normally held himself with. Between the curse and the possibility of meeting Ellix at sundown...there was no way he could possibly take the throne. We are not many months short of the 50 year mark, and the stress and fear he’s feeling just means that Ellix is awoken more often than not.

“Yesterday was one such day when Ellix came out to play, and I must apologize on his behalf. You have been a dear friend to Felix ever since you met him. It would shatter him to realize that his own alter ego had damaged a companionship he holds so close to his heart. Ellix is Felix’s darkest, most depraved impulses put into a persona. It is not the Felix you know, the way no mortal is defined by their darkness.

“When he does meet you again, I implore you to not push my little brother away. He is a lost boy, his power and sense of duty beyond that of beings wizened and old. He needs a friend that doesn’t see him for his curse but for the individual that he is. All I ask of you is to be that person for him, for these last few months of his life.”

//

You waited impatiently for the next full moon, barely focusing on your daily royal duties as you counted down the days. As the full moon night got closer, you steeled your nerves, prepared for the possibility of meeting Ellix- a persona that you were woefully unfamiliar with despite the familiar face he carried. This was just another facet of the Felix you knew. How was this any different from the different faces of a mortal’s personality? You would not be bowed by his drastic change in behavior, you decided.

You hurried your steps as you made your way to the mermaid fountain,  the delicate iron chains around your shoulders clicking softly against the midnight blue fabric of your dress. Rounding the edge of the hedge, your eyes instantly caught Felix’s- no, this was Ellix. His eyes were the same obsidian black as before, standing out starkly against his honey skin and the gold circlet that rested on his forehead. You took a deep breath, calming your nerves. His lips dragged up in a smirk akin to the ones he’d flashed at you the previous moon. “If you’re done taking in my appearance, darling, I must say you look absolutely ravishing yourself. ” You rolled your eyes, pursing your lips against the smile that bubbled to your lips unbidden. “If you’re going to behave like a creepy elder with me, Ellix, I guarantee you I will not be hugging you, or walking with you anytime soon.”

A surprised laugh spilled from Felix, his dark eyes lighting up with amusement. This was banter the two of you were used to, indulging in the easy back-and-forth for hours on end. “No hugging or walking for us then, darling.” The endearment spoken in Ellix’s voice struck a chord, sending a familiar shiver of wonder down your spine. “What do you think about talking?”

You grin back at him, taking his hand and leading him to the edge of the fountain. “That is most definitely my cup of tea.”

//

That full moon night cemented your companionship with Felix’s dark alter ego- who wasn’t as dark as he made himself out to be. Ellix was much more easy with his magic than Felix, using his powers to do even the smallest of things. He was also more confident, almost confrontational with his opinions and his sentiments- even if they weren’t in line with yours. You enjoyed the new dimension to your banter, although a small part of you missed the softness that came with Felix himself.

Despite his openness, however, you couldn’t bring yourself to ask about the curse, or the story Jisung had entrusted you with. It seemed too big of a topic to breach- one that Ellix or Felix would have to address by themselves. So you let the conversation flow in the way they wished it to- quick witted banter and almost flirtatious comments.

The next moon had you encountering Felix again, and you were quick to jump into his arms and he swung you around, the two of you laughing brightly as his eyes crinkled, the jewels under his eyes twinkling softly. He left behind a bracelet of rose-petals and a matching rose wreath. The moon after brought back Ellix, this time with his ornery smirk and a kiss on your cheek before he melted into thin air. 

The fluttering in your stomach every time he said something mildly flirtatious, brought out those presents, or let his touch linger for a second too long wasn’t lost to you. You’d felt floaty and obscenely happy with Felix ever since the first time you met him, the quiet nervousness melting into heady peace and teasing banter every time you met after that. When Jisung told you about the curse, the first thing you felt was a wave of concern that you knew instantly was far beyond the bounds of friendship. You wanted to find him and engulf him in your arms, hold him close and tell him he was brave, strong, more special than he allowed himself to believe. You wanted him to stay close by your side, not for one full moon night but for the rest of your lives so you could tell him every day how much he’d come to mean to you, no matter whether it was Ellix or Felix.

It was a soft, simple feeling that had taken root in your heart in the beginning of your companionship with him and had only grown larger since, pushing the limits of your heart in your affection for Felix. It wasn’t just friendship you felt for the lost boy in your garden- it was love. 

//

“You’re lying. Tell me you’re lying.” Your hands pressed against Ellix’s chest, pushing him away from you. Your magic sparked against your fists as you advanced, Ellix’s only reaction an evil grin. “Why would I be lying, darling?” He purred, his own fingers sparking with the beginnings of a flame. You skirted the edge of the mermaid fountain, your eyes trained on him. The anger and betrayal coursing through your system had you seeing red, but you kept your voice even. “How dare you stand before me and tell me that our companionship was a fraud?”

“Oh no no, darling, I didn’t say it was a fraud,” Ellix bit back, looking like a demon set loose from the Netherworld. “I said that this friendship was a game. You let slip so many royal secrets to me, all of which will go towards the siege that the Twilight army is planning upon your kingdom.”

A snarl of outrage ripped from your throat, sparking your eyes as you stepped closer to Felix, eyes ablaze with fury. “You traitor.”

“I’m the Crown prince of Twilight Woods, Princess,” He used the same mocking tone that drove you up the wall. “I’m a royal before your little companion. Did you really think I agreed to your acquaintanceship because I appreciated your COMPANY?” Ellix spit back, his entire body betraying his disgust.

You reeled back at his words, each one of them pricking your heart with a savage sharpness. “You don’t mean that.” you breathed out, but Ellix was on a roll.

“This entire companionship was built for your desires, with none of mine taken into consideration. You’re too absorbed in yourself, with your hair and your clothes and your little kingdom that you forgot that I was a part of this friendship too. You didn’t give a single damn about me, did you?”He shouted, close enough that the two of you were almost nose to nose. You stood your ground, not wanting to seem weak. Not to him. Never to him- “ You just wanted a sweet submissive little boy from the woods to listen to you, and let me make it clear to you, princess. I am NOT IT.”

A beat of silence passed between the both of you- and then you straightened up, looking down your nose at the boy in front of you. “This companionship is terminated as of this second. I owe you nothing, as don’t you. Does that please you?” Tell me it doesn’t please you, don’t do this to my heart, Felix, please-

“Absolutely, princess-” He pressed a kiss against your cheek, a mockery of an action you’d gotten used to from Ellix. But it only served to set you off, a scream ripping from your throat. “No. You don’t get the last word on this sham of a friendship, you dirty liar. I trusted you with my life and my dreams, and this is what I get in return? You should be ashamed of yourself, Ellix.” Your voice cracked from the rage, but Ellix didn’t bat an eyelash.

“Jisung was right. You’re a monster. Begone, Ellix. Take Felix with you and never return. If you do, I will make sure the guards find a dungeon for you with your names on it.”

All you could see was the glint of his black eyes disappearing into the darkness, likely for the last time- and the only emotion you could recognize from the maelstrom in your mind was that of a broken heart.

The walk to your chambers was a demonstration in self control, eyes silvery with tears cast low and your fists clenched to prevent the scream from leaving your throat. It wasn’t until you reached your chambers that you allowed yourself to fall apart, crumbling to the ground behind your door as you hid your face in your hands- and the soft rustle of paper with the movement of your skirts catching your attention. By some sleight of hand, Ellix had slipped a letter into your pocket.  While you had half a mind to feed it to the flames, the sad, sentimental side of you ripped open the thick paper, scanning the elegant scrawl dancing across the paper.

Greetings, princess.

I’m sorry I never told you the full truth.

Sana did leave one loophole. When she cursed me, she left me 50 years to find a mortal that would love and accept me for my cursed self, a mortal that would look me in the eye and admit to it. But when the complications began to happen with Ellix…There was no point hoping. I bided away 48 years, lost in self-pity and the darkness that the curse festered within me. Until I met you.

You were so beautiful in the moonlight, darling. Over time however, I came to know that it was your goodness that gave you that celestial glow- You were noble and selfless, strong yet soft, relentless in your pursuit for all the good you could bring to your loved ones.

I was smitten by you, but I couldn’t stand to taint you with the horrible scars I bring with me, darling. So I kept my secret and met you every full moon, only falling further and further with every meeting. The first time I held you in my arms, it was like a missing key had finally clicked into my locked heart and princess, I didn’t want to let go of you again. You gave me the sweetest memories in the final year of my life,  and for that, princess, I will be eternally grateful.

I am but a smidgen in the glorious story that will be yours one day, even though it pains me that I will never get to be a part of it- so don’t remember me, princess. Don’t worry about me. Don’t try to save me, because I am likely already beyond the point of saving. There’s no way out for me.

The fact shall remain, as it always will in this letter, even after I’ve passed into the darkness- I love you.

I love you as misfortune loves orphans, as fire loves innocence, and as justice loves to sit and watch everything wrong. Justice has done exactly that with me, darling. It has cursed me to live my last moments away from you, lost in my own mind, my magic fighting against the curse to keep the darkness from claiming me. It is my misfortune that I met you so late into my life, but my life’s greatest honour to have known one who shines as brightly as you.

Beyond Forever,

Felix.

You scrambled to your feet and broke into a run, your skirts whipping around your ankles as you let your memory guide you, eyes blurred by the tears that streaked down your face. Ellix was trying to protect you from the pain of losing him, he loved you, he loved you, he loved you- 

Slipping past the guards and into the stables, you were on a horse, riding bareback in the fastest speed you could coax from it, towards the Twilight Woods. You had time, you had to try, you couldn’t just let him die, not  like this-

Before you knew it, you had reached the lake where you’d met Felix for the first time, the memory of his quicksilver smile and his golden eyes- no, one pair of golden eyes and another pair of obsidian orbs flashing across your mind before another fit of tears claimed you. If you remembered right, Jisung had mentioned you’d brushed by an entrance to the Twilight woods somewhere close by this very place-

“FELIX!!” You screamed aloud, dropping to your knees at the shore. “I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH, Please come back to me, I can’t bear the thought of losing you Felix, please-” You caught a view of your tear-streaked face in the reflection of the water, rippling softly, uncaring of your screaming.

The first rays of the morning sun began to hit the edges of the lake as you sobbed aloud, the despair setting in and burrowing deep into your chest as the moments ticked by. You scanned the horizon, desperately looking for a sign, any sign of the kingdom Jisung and Felix belonged to- and then you saw it. 

In the far shore, two figures stepped into the soft morning light- both small and slight in build, dressed in whites and golds. One had hair the colour of ebony, the other hair the colour of burnished gold. You straightened up, your eyes widening as you hurriedly brushed the tears off your face.. It couldn’t be..

Both of them stepped onto the water, walking- no, running across the surface of the lake without leaving a ripple in their wake. You got to your feet, backing away from the shore as Jisung and Felix stepped off the water, their smiles brighter than the sun itself. Felix stepped towards you, his arms held out wide and you let out a quiet sob, running right into his warm embrace.

“I love you, I love you so much, thank the stars-”

“You’re here, you’re real, I love you, I adore you, princess-” Your murmurs mingled together, muffled in each other’s bodies as you clung together, scared to move away. You pulled away, your arms still looked around Felix’s shoulders and his neck, only to be met with the brightest grin you’d ever seen lighting up his face. His eyes- one gold and one black, crinkled with happy tears as his lips stretched into an ethereal smile, his hair a dishevelled mess around his ears.  

Felix was the crown prince to a kingdom bathed in betrayal and grief, while you were the heiress of a kingdom that prospered from the nobility that ruled it. Felix’s cousin was likely on the way, pulling her hair out in the frustration of being ousted. You would likely face the music for screaming at a boy in the gardens and then disappearing for hours on end- but in each other’s arms, the two of you were nothing more than each other’s special little forevers.

In that moment, it was truly all that mattered. 

////

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Do let me know what you think! - Elliana.​​

[animatedarchives]

LIFELINE

— 𝐊𝐎𝐙𝐔𝐌𝐄 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐌𝐀

author’s note: so i had this dream a few days ago and i wrote this self-indulgent comfort fic. if you’ve experienced this before, i’m so sorry for the hurt you’ve been through and i’m here if you need to talk :) i hope you like it <3

genre: BiG aNgsT, comfort fluff wew

warnings: toxic relationship (mental abuse, manipulation, guilt tripping etc.), slightly coarse language

word count: 2.1k words

“Argh, I missed again!” you whined, the water gun gently hitting your thigh as you swung your arms down in defeat. You only had one last chance to knock all 5 metal cans over, and you knew you’d never make it. You sighed as you glanced at the life-sized teddy bear you’d been playing for, reluctantly giving up the idea of ever being able to hug its plushy form. Kenma watched you silently, gazing at you the same way you were looking at the bear: with intense longing.

“Here, let me,” he said gently, reaching for the water gun in your hand. His fingers briefly brushed yours and your breath hitched, turning away slightly so he couldn’t see the blush creeping onto your face. You had both been friends for the longest time, but you knew it was more than that. Although neither of you had explicitly confessed, there was a silent understanding that you both harboured feelings for one another, but were too shy to do anything about it.

You watched sheepishly as he brought the gun up against his shoulder, looking into the crosshairs. His eyes fixed themselves on his target, pupils narrowing into cat-like slits. You loved seeing the competitive side of Kenma. The resolve in his eyes, the fierce air of determination and the silent power he held was so different from his usual nonchalant self, you couldn’t help but be allured.

Finally, he pulled the trigger, releasing five precise spurts of water. You barely had time to process what happened as you heard the metal cans clattering to the ground. His muscles relaxed and he smiled with satisfaction, his usual laid-back self returning while you stood there in utter disbelief.

“Kenma, that was amazing!” you exclaimed, turning to face him. He watched as your eyes sparkled, a soft chuckle leaving his lips. It was a sight that warmed his heart, and something he missed so dearly. Reluctantly tearing his eyes from yours, he turned back to the stall owner to claim his prize.

“I’ll take the bear, please. The big one in the back,” he said, pointing to the one you wanted. You squealed in delight as Kenma retrieved the toy and handed it to you. Bursting with child-like joy, you pressed your face into its large squishy head as you hugged it, your body swinging from side to side. Kenma watched you amusedly, unable to wipe the smile off his face. He loved seeing you like this, the brightness you emanated rivaling that of the sun. Your genuine joy was one of the little things that truly made him happy, and it was blissful moments like this that he wished you could live in forever.

Beaming, you bowed at the stall owner to thank him, eager to explore the rest of the carnival. However, as you turned around, your eyes landed on someone in the distance and your heart seemed to stop. Gone was the excitement bouncing within you, now replaced with an unsettling heaviness. The light in your eyes was being sucked away, dissipating into nothingness. Sensing the air around you shift, Kenma looked at you concernedly, then followed your line of sight. And there stood the person he hated the most, the one who had caused you so much hurt and emotional turmoil for two years: your ex-boyfriend.

“Well well well, look who it is,” he smiled smugly as he sauntered towards you. His eyes flickered to Kenma, who stood behind you, and he laughed bitterly. “Moved on to another boy already? You always were such a slut,” he spat. Kenma tensed up behind you, clenching his jaw and balling his fists. He was never the type to be violent, but your ex’s disgusting remarks made him want to punch that sick smirk right off his face.

“P-please go away,” you whimpered. Your voice was strangled and your chest tightened as the overwhelming scent of your ex’s cursed cologne invaded your nose.

“Awww, but why? You wouldn’t want to break my heart again now, would you?” he pouted in mock sadness.

This was what you dealt with for two years: him taking advantage of your kind heart and twisting it for his own entertainment. He criticised every little thing that you did, from what you wore to who you hung out with. He convinced you that it was your fault you upset him, that it was you who failed to please. You began to question every decision you made, doubting your ability to make the “right ones” and eventually resorting to asking for his permission instead. He had you choking on a leash, but you were too nice, too forgiving, to acknowledge his manipulative ways. You were losing yourself and eventually became an empty shell of the cheerful girl you once were, no longer taking pleasure in the things you loved. It had been six full months since you came to your senses and broke up with him, trying so hard to regain the light you had lost, with Kenma encouraging you every step of the way. It had taken so much time and effort to recover from the toxic relationship. Yet at the mere sight of him returning into your life, everything came undone in an instant.

“What’s the matter, darling? Cat got your tongue?” he hummed. You opened your mouth to protest, but no words came out. You desperately tried to move, to do something to show he no longer held that power over you. But your mind was plagued, and your body remained frozen in the presence of your abuser.

“Oh darling, there’s no need to be scared,” he said, cocking his head to the side. He took a step forward and you couldn’t help but tremble in fear. Dark memories from the past you tried to bury resurfaced as his menacing gaze bore into you. You shrank back in terror and your back hit Kenma’s chest, causing your hold on the huge teddy bear to loosen. The impact pulled Kenma out of his heated thoughts, his eyes clearing to reveal the pointed daggers within them. He gently wrapped an arm around your waist and twisted your bodies so that he was between you and your attacker.

“That’s enough,” Kenma’s words cut through the toxic atmosphere. The change in his demeanour was subtle but terrifying. His voice remained quiet, but now held an edge that was sharper than a sword. His gaze pierced through your attacker, cutting him down to the bone.

Your ex scoffed, unintimidated by Kenma’s physical build. “No, she knows exactly what she did,” he hissed, looking straight into your eyes. “You love to toy with people don’t you darling? Go on, say it. Admit it, you bitch!”

You don’t recall the mistake you made; you only knew that you’d made one. A baseless sense of guilt consumed your mind, and all you could think of was how horrible of a person you were as you looked down at the ground in shame. The lack of words leaving your mouth angered him further. He took a step towards you, but stopped short as Kenma suddenly grabbed his forearm.

“I said,” his grip tightened as anger boiled inside of him.

“That’s enough.”

Kenma looked at him through the strands of hair that fell across his face. He was like a feline crouching behind the tall, dry grass, eyes fierce and unblinking as he stared down his prey. His unrelenting gaze made even your ex shudder, his mind going blank as Kenma seethed silently.

“Leave.”

Kenma’s voice was practically a growl at this point, the finality in his voice apparent. His golden orbs glowed like a predator’s, daring your ex to challenge him. Although no one said it, it was obvious Kenma owned the court and held the game in the palm of his hands.

Knowing he was beat, your ex yanked his arm out of Kenma’s iron grip and scoffed. “Whatever. You’re worthless, anyway,” he sneered at you before walking away. You didn’t know what you did, but you felt like you deserved it. That’s all you ever were anyway: just another piece of garbage.

With the threat no longer present, Kenma eased up and turned to you, significantly concerned for your mental and emotional wellbeing. “Are you alright?” he asked, unable to hide the urgency in his voice.

“I- I think so,” you stuttered. But you weren’t. You knew you weren’t. You were slipping again, back into your old submissive mindset as your head spun with your ex’s lies. And Kenma could see it, the thought of your incited self-hatred causing his knuckles to turn white.

“You deserve so much more than him, Y/N,” he said. You smiled weakly at his words but couldn’t bring yourself to agree.

“I don’t know… Maybe he’s right,” trying to keep your smile, only to fail miserably. “Maybe I really am worthless… Maybe I’m just an awful human being… Maybe…” you thought aloud, voice breaking as you started to believe his words. This experience took you back, remembering how your ex would constantly poison your conscience, leaving you to cry into your pillow every night as your thoughts consumed you alive.

“Y/N, stop,” he said, reaching for your arm. You flinched involuntarily, the action causing Kenma’s heart to break. “Y/N, look at me. Please,” he begged. You slowly lifted your head to meet his gaze, a thin film of moisture forming over your eyes as you slipped further into darkness.

“You are the kindest, sweetest soul I have ever met. You are beautiful and gorgeous, made perfectly as you are. You are the furthest thing from a bad person. He’s a liar, a manipulator and a toxic person overall. He’s the bad one. He’s the one that doesn’t deserve you,” he said, desperate for you to see reason.

You looked into his eyes sadly, searching for something to hold on to, to stop you from spiraling down deeper into your thoughts. And then you found it. Something that was different between him and your ex. Something that was always there but Kenma tried to hide. It was his unwavering love for you.

Something finally clicked and a spark was ignited between you two, causing your heart to beat faster. You could barely understand what was happening, too many things going on in your head at once. But one thing was certain. You knew the person in front of you was genuine.

Trustworthy.

Safe.

“Kenma… I…” your words lost their sound as your faces inched closer. Your eyes drifted down to his soft, thin lips. Your mind was screaming at you, saying that you didn’t deserve his affection and that you were completely unlovable. But your heart argued back, eager to prove them wrong as it reached out for the one it knew it could call home.

You watched earnestly, breath caught in your throat as his lips got closer and closer to your own. Finally, your eyes fluttered shut, your sight unneeded as you savoured the flavour of his sweet lips against yours. The bear you were holding was long forgotten as your fingers unfurled and dropped it to the floor. Your heart was now set on a new prize, your hands moving up his arms and clenching the fabric of his jacket underneath them.

Your reciprocation to his actions made him brave; he kissed you harder, more intensely, as he rested his palms firmly on the curve of your waist. It was an area tainted by the hands of your previous boyfriend, but Kenma’s touch was so pure, so gentle, and so loving, that all you could do was melt into his hold.

Your lips parted all too soon and he rested his forehead against yours, quietly gasping for air. The jarring voices in your head quietened and eventually disappeared as Kenma’s delicate fingers intertwined themselves with yours.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” he chuckled, his warm breath adding to the heat on your cheeks. “I love you, Y/N. Every single piece of you. You are absolutely perfect in every way imaginable and I don’t ever want you to believe otherwise.”

You gave a genuine smile as you grasped onto the lifeline of hope Kenma was throwing out to you in the sea of darkness. You wrapped your arms around his torso and buried your face into his shoulder.

“Thank you. I love you too, Kenma.”

Your muffled whispers against his clothes put a gentle smile on his face, his heart soaring as you returned his affection. Kissing the side of your head, he embraced you tighter, wanting to show you how deeply you could be loved.

Breathing in his comforting scent, you came to a realisation.

It wasn’t the bear you longed to hug the most that day.

It was Kenma.

© written and published by animatedarchives 2020. please do not steal or repost. thank you.

[scandalousfemale]

Falling

Y/N x Rafe Cameron

Basically a relationship timeline of y/n not expecting to fall in love with Rafe

WC: 2,670

Warnings: Cussing, falling in love, fluff, writing this made me feel v single

A/N: This is pretty much based on me listening to Queen of the Night by Hey Violet and thinking about @tomfreakinghollandneedsaoscar being fluffy and nice bf feelings. Oh, very important, in this fic (in my fictional universe) Rafe does not kill anyone, beat up pogues, nor does he snort the yayo. 

You’ve been dating Rafe for a little over a year now, it started off casual, because back then you couldn’t be bothered to put any emotion into anything that could get you hurt. As for him, well, he had his own daddy issues he had to work through. You met him through mutual friends though they didn’t exactly mean for you to start seeing him.

“That’s him?” You inquired, looking at the boy in the long sleeve and the backward snap back, tilting your head as if that would help you examine him better, “he doesn’t look scary,” you finally said.

“Didn’t say he was scary,” your friend, Ashlee, said beside you.

“Yeah,” Henrietta seconded, “we said he was dangerous,” she spoke very softly as if this man would have supersonic hearing from across the golf course.

“I heard him and his friends beat up pogues for fun,” Ashlee whispered, “and that he’s super tight with a drug dealer or whatever. I know he’s eye candy but I would steer very, very far away from all three of them.” She motioned to the other two, whose name was supposedly Topper and Kelce. Rafe was the name of the boy they were speaking about, and you can’t help but think to yourself how strange their names were.

“Yeah, right. You know the rumors on the eight runs like we’re on a middle school playground,” you said as you rolled your eyes. It’s true, you had your fair share of rumors that definitely were not true. “So, are one of you going to introduce me?” You asked as you looked back to the tall beauty, laughing with his friends.

“Oh no, no way, we don’t know him. We just know of him. Come on, y/n, even if he’s not a guy with a super bad temper, interrupting a game is a major no for literally every golf player ever,” Henrietta said, already stepping back to walk away, taking Ashlee with her, expecting you to follow but you don’t.

You understood the risk of walking up to a group of guys who may or may not be drug addicts and harassers but you valued yourself in having pretty good judgement and the consequences of walking up to them seemed slim to none. So, that’s exactly what you did, despite your friends whispering curses at you. You allowed your feet to take you right up to the boys.

Keeping the smile on your face, that truly only grows when you noticed Kelce nudge Topper to look your way before whispering something to Rafe who only shook his head before taking his shot.

“Hey,” you announced your presence before waving at Kelce and Topper, making sure to single the taller boy out. Which, as you assumed it would, caught his attention. The two boys couldn’t help but smile back at you as their friend gave you a once over, as if assessing the threat and you let him. You stood there boldly until his eyes met yours, “hey you,” you finally said with a smile and raised eyebrow as if asking if you passed the inspection. Apparently, you did.

“You know it’s incredibly rude to interrupt a game, right?” Rafe’s voice could’ve stunned you right there. Not only was this boy man so attractive, his voice was velvet smooth as humor laced his tone.

“Well, what else was I supposed to do? Stand off to the side and wait for you to make a move?” You said as you crossed your arms in front of your chest, joking back at him and somehow slipping right into a level of comfort with him, even as his friends snicker.

“That’s forward,” Topper stated but your eyes don’t waver from Rafe nor his from yours.

“Who are you?” Rafe asked incredulously as if he never met a girl who knew what she wanted before.

“Your date for tonight,” you said as you stuck your hand into your pocket, fishing out your name and number that you’ve scribbled on a torn piece of paper since your friends showed you who they were talking about on social media platform before dragging you out here to see the real thing and thank goodness they did, “text me if you want to know when and where, or don’t. Ball’s in your court,” you said as you handed him the paper before waving to the stunned boys next to him and walking away.

 He called you about an hour after meeting him and that was the start of figuring out that Rafe didn’t really care to do as he was told. Of course, he took you on a date that night...and every other night that came afterwards.

Before long, it was almost like you were living in each other’s houses. You were able to tell him every secret that not even your closest friends knew about, like the small tattoo you have hidden on your hips that he’s kissed a million times. Suddenly you have traded in your designer dresses for his T-shirts and your jeans, making your parents more and more angry with the arrangement because when they asked you if you were dating Rafe, you’d always say no.

Technically, at the time, you weren’t officially dating him because he never asked. He said he didn’t want to put a label on things because that’s when they disappear and honestly, you didn’t want to call him a boyfriend either because that would make your feelings, yes the feelings you said that you didn’t want to have, that much more real. Yeah, well, that changed the night that the kook kids were throwing a party over at Topper’s house.

 You heard a screaming before a splash as another guy threw his girl into the pool before jumping in, himself. You found yourself sitting on the counter of the outside bar, a drink in your hand as you people watched. Ashlee was laying it on thick for Kelce tonight and you couldn’t help with smile to yourself. On one hand, you were proud that she’s finally had the nerve to talk to him but on the other hand, you’re pretty sure that that boy is completely clueless unless she straight up said that she wanted him.

“Damn,” a voice said close to you but you ignored it. Just another partygoer passing through, you thought to yourself, taking another sip of the liquor in your glass.

“Baby,” a guy appeared in front of you with a wide smile as if you were old friends and you couldn’t help but smile at his confidence. You studied him as he introduced himself; black hair, blue eyes, maybe six feet, and sort of hot. You appreciated his spirit, of course you did because it was textbook you, but you found yourself comparing him to Rafe and that’s when you knew you were screwed.

“So, what’s your name?” This guy, Chris (you think), asked.

“Y/n,” you entertained as you smirked at him, leaning back on the counter with a hand beside you, holding you up as the other brought the drink to your lips. You didn’t even think about how the position elongated your body, not until Chris (or whatever) trailed his eyes down your body. Before you could say anything else, Rafe was beside the two of you, as if suddenly inserting himself in the nonexistent conversation. It was kind of cute.

“Can I help you?” The guy in front of you, obviously annoyed with the added company, asked a looming Rafe, who is just about your height now that you’re sitting on this counter.

“Yeah, I actually just need to grab something that’s mine and I’ll be out of your way,” he said smoothly, causing your eyes to narrow but as the guy stepped back and Rafe stepped in front of you, realization clicked.

Rafe stepped in between your legs and wrapped his arms around your waist as he lifted you up, causing you to tighten your legs around his hips and wrap your arms around his neck. He walked back into the house with you as you laughed. You couldn’t help it as you laughed into his neck, hiding your blushing face from him. Maybe it’s the alcohol or maybe it’s these feelings you can’t seem but have for him, you moved your hands to have one on his face and the other grabbing his hair and before thinking too much, you pulled his hair—hard, causing him to hiss as his attention snapped at you, though he’s still walking you through the crowd. Fuck that, fuck being private, you thought as you pulled his face down to kiss you and that kiss? You felt it for days. The first of many public claims between the two of you started that night.

—

Suddenly a year has passed since that night though it felt like it’s only been a day since you’ve walked up to him at the golf course. You wondered if the dreaded end of the honeymoon stage would ever arrive and that goes without saying that though you two do argue, instead of shutting each other out like the learned behavior from parents and past relationships, somehow you and Rafe were able to swallow each other’s pride and sit down and talk. That’s right, talk. You didn’t rush into make-up sex and ignore the problems or disagreements that you had, though the make-up sex was amazing after the issues were addressed.

You didn’t know what to make of such a healthy relationship, at first you had to admit, and you even told Rafe that you almost ran. You had a tendency of running from things that were too good to be true and he was one of them. Coming from a mentality of leaving before being left, he knew the feeling all too well, and what did he do? He spent all night lying in bed with you, talking about life, the world, his love for you, and how he was scared too. He was terrified of going into this with you and yet he’s still here— you’re still here.

His kiss on your forehead snapped you out of going down memory lane of your relationship as you came back down to reality. You two were at your sister’s wedding, you wore a knee length red dress as Rafe wore a suit and tie. As the night went on and you two kept dancing, he had taken off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves to his forearms and you almost prayed for the strength not to take him right now on this dance floor.

“Did I tell you how incredible you look tonight? Because you do,” you told him as he held you close to his body, in a more comforting way than a possessiveness that you’re used to with your exes.

“You have but I wouldn’t mind hearing how attractive you think I am over and over again,” he smirked as he softly dipped his head to kiss your lips.

“Never mind,” your words mumbled against his lips, “I take it back. I never want to feed into your already big head,” you said before he surprised you by grabbing your arm and spinning you, causing you to laugh whole heartedly before tucking you back into his arms.

“I, on the other hand, do not mind feeding into your ego one bit because I cannot stand in front of you and not have you know that you’re the most gorgeous girl here tonight,” he said, causing you to blush and rest your face against his chest to hide the stupid smile you have on your face from him. You’re always smiling when you’re around him. Thinking back to the very first day, you couldn’t believe that people even thought he was a drug dealer or someone who beat people up for fun, he’s so far from it all. He’s the most loving, caring, and thoughtful person ever. Not just to you but to his sisters and his friends, his father just never gave him a chance and your heart broke for him in that sense but overall? You’d never change anything about him because then he wouldn’t be this man here tonight.

After the bride and groom did their goodbye ceremony, you told Rafe that you weren’t ready to go home yet. So, he said that he’d drive over to the water, knowing that the sound of the ocean relaxes you.

He draped his wrist over the steering wheel, one hand on your thigh and you couldn’t help but have your heart feel so full. You looked at the boy sitting next to you in this convertible, his hair being pushed back by the wind, his tie loose around his neck. Shit, you thought to yourself, I love him.

I love him. I love him. I love him.

You repeated to yourself and you could almost cry with how happy you are in this moment right now. You didn’t think twice when you pulled off the hair tie and bobby pins, keeping your hair together and letting it flow in the wind. Almost as if shedding the image you’ve been trying to keep for so long and finally being free. You threw your hands up in the air, closing your eyes and feeling the wind wrap around you, letting love finally wrap around you.

“You’re fucking beautiful,” you heard Rafe’s voice shouting over the wind and you smiled, eyes still closed because you swear, you’d cry if you looked at him right now. God, if this is a dream please don’t wake me up. He squeezed your thigh as if to keep you from floating away— too late.

When you feel the car slow down, you finally opened your eyes, looking over to him with the biggest smile. You couldn’t stop yourself, “Rafe,” though he was already looking at you, mesmerized, “I love you,” you declared, not scared of rejection. At this point, the moonlight shining on his face and the way that he’s looking at you, you’re not afraid of anything.

“What?” Rafe’s voice was barely audible that if you weren’t looking at him, you wouldn’t have thought he’d have said anything. Though he asked the question, his body twisted in the driver’s seat, his hand now on your face, his eyes shining and if he cried you know you would, too.

“I love you,” you repeated and you’d keep repeating it for the rest of your life if he’d allow it, “you make me the happiest that I’ve ever been and when I look at you, I feel safe. I feel like I can conquer the world with you by my side and when I look at you, I just want to protect you from all the evil in the world. I don’t even remember what it feels like to be empty anymore because with you, I feel everything. I want to feel everything all the time because if this is what love feels like, oh my God, I’m floating, I love you. I love-,” and before you could say it again, Rafe pulled your face to his, crushing his lips onto yours. You couldn’t tell if the tears you feel on your cheeks are yours or his but you don’t care. It doesn’t matter. The happiness that you feel right now, you want to capture the feeling forever. His hand came up behind your head, keeping you from coming up from air, keeping you in his arms but needing you closer. He pulled his seat back and practically pulled you over the center console as you let out a small squeal, laughing against his lips but wrapping your arms around his neck as you straddled him. He rests his forehead against yours as his eyes remained close, his cheeks stained with tears but he had a smile on his face that looks like it couldn’t be wiped off even if you tried, matching yours.

“I love you, too.”

[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 ❋

[bogariel-frogariel]

A Wish for A Better World Part 7: Strange Strangers

Part  of my time travel fix it fic. We get to see the Dairy Islanders!

Sorry this took so long. I kind of died last week and I couldn’t do anything. I am slightly better now.

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25747657/chapters/63549790

Annabelle didn't really know what to make of the Candian entourage. She had practically stammered her way through greeting the king and the famous Knights of North Gumbar, who'd she'd heard stories of since she was a child. But the rest of the delegation was… eclectic.

She knew that the Dairy Islands was being extremely honoured as the first nation since the war to receive a royal Candian delegation since the end of the Ravening war. The nation had taken, understandably, on insular policies regarding its rulers after the death of the legendary Rocks sisters all in such close succession. Annabelle may not like playing court games, but she was competent enough at them to have heard the whispers about how the rapid deaths were almost suspicious, even during war time.

They brought many more people and warriors than would be deemed proper for a friendly visit as this was, but their letter asking for passage into their land had explained to House Cheddar the circumstances of their visit. The story had almost been to fantastical for Annabelle to believe, but the sight of the ships covered in frozen milk and people tinged blue from the frozen lands they came from quickly confirmed the story that the Candian royal family had sailed into the Unnamed Lands that sat North of Calorum to retrieve their long lost heir to the throne, who had managed to earn the loyalty of a fleet of ships. The two sailing ships that had accompanied the Candian battleship were awe-inspiring and to learn that there was a whole fleet residing in previously thought of as unpopulated territory was rather world-shattering for Annabelle, as a young captain who dreamed of sailing the seas and taming the waves.

 But that was not the path that fate had desired for her.

 She was to be chained to the Islands for her whole life; trying to patch together a small and struggling nation.

 Annabelle tried not to pout as she watched Primsy follow Princess Jet around the courtyard, listening wide-eyed as the girl expunged her stories of battle. Such behaviour would be unbefitting of a princess, and was far too childish for a girl of seventeen. Almost a woman grown as her father reminded her so often.

 Well, if she was almost a woman grown, then why wouldn't her father allow her to partake in the grown up discussions? Why was she stuck playing outside like a baby whilst the Crown Princess and King of Candia were shut up with Sir Moriss and her father whilst Manta Ray babysat them?

 She was pulled out of her bitter thoughts as the Princess Ruby sat down beside her on the bench that Annabelle had planted herself on.

 "You're looking unhappy," she observed, folding her hands over the Book of Leaves that rested on her knee.

 Annabelle had not seen the princess put it down since the delegation had been welcomed hours ago. It clashed with her outfit. Like her sisters, she wore a courtly dress, this one matching her skin perfectly whilst her sisters' ones did the same for them, and, also like her sisters, she wore weapons over the top of her gown. It was not unheard of in the fashions of the court, even if it was uncommon. It certainly made a statement: that the Candian princesses knew how to protect themselves.

 Annabelle would almost like to see that silent claim put to the test. Not that she disliked any of the princesses. Even if Princess Saccharina's charismatic presence was intimidating and she was slightly jealous of the star struck look in Primsy's eyes as she listened to Jet. She was just used to that look being reserved for her.

 Annabelle glanced to the side and dipped her head respectfully, "My apologies, princess. I did not mean to be rude."

 "That's not what I meant," Princess Ruby replied with a wave of her hand. "I just wanted to ask if you're all right. Things seem a bit… tense around here."

 Annabelle narrowed her eyes at the princess. She thought that they'd been doing a good job to hide the tension that had clung to Lacramore for the past month and caused Annabelle to barely speak to her father. Ever since…

 "I assure you, things are fine, Princess Ruby," Annabelle answered, perhaps slightly terse.

 The princess smiled and shrugged. "I'm sorry if I was prying. You just looked like you needed to vent."

 Annabelle raised her eyebrow but didn't comment, instead looking back over at her cousin and the other Rocks twin. "Why aren't you over there?"

 Princess Ruby shrugged. "Jet seems to be doing a pretty good job of entertaining your younger cousin. Besides, I was feeling a little tired."

 Annabelle's gut twisted as she remembered her father mentioning that the two younger sisters had been reportedly quite severely injured in whatever altercation the Candians had found themselves entangled in up north.

 "Are you alright? Do you need anything?"

 Princess Ruby shook her head. "No, it's okay. Jet actually got hurt worse than I did. I just… overextended myself in my efforts to heal her."

 Annabelle nodded. She could not relate to being so truly devoted to the Bulb that she was bestowed the rare gift of miracles, but she could relate to wanting to protect a sister.

 "I understand," she said. "I would do anything I could to heal Primsy if she were hurt."

 "You hold a high regard for her, don't you?"

 "She is like a sister."

 "She is next in line for the throne, is she not?"

 "Yes," Annabelle confirmed, holding back a frustrated sigh. "Some days I think she is more suited to it than I would be."

 "You seem like a good leader. Your crew respects you greatly, as do the inhabitants of the castle from what I could see."

 That observation caused something inside Annabelle to fracture and she slumped her shoulder.

 "Thank you, princess, you are too kind, but I do not know if I will accept the throne," Annabelle confessed.

 Princess Ruby frowned. "Why?"

 Annabelle bit her lip, but found that once a little bit of her confession was out, the rest came flowing with it. "I have accepted that I must give up thoughts of adventuring the seas. I know that I can content myself with taming the Milk seas around the Islands. I wouldn't be the first princess to rule from aboard a deck. However I… I.."

 She took a deep breath, feeling it hitch in her chest. "Lord Carior Swiss has reached out to my father with an engagement proposal and my father is going to agree and I just can't!"

 Her chest was moving faster now, up and down as her breathing became more erratic, even as she kept her voice low enough to not draw attention to their shadowy corner of the court yard.

 "He's over fifty and he's sleezy and he makes my skin crawl. Father knows I do not care for men and he said it would be alright but after mother and with him being so unwell, he says that I will need to make sacrifices for the good of the Islands. And I know that House Swiss are one of the richest and most influential houses, but I just… I can't do it. I will not marry him! Even if that means that I will not marry anyone and forfeit my right to the throne."

 She was breathing heavily by the end of her tirade and glanced to her side to see Princess Ruby staring at her, mouth agape.

 Annabelle sniffed and straightened up. "Apologies, princess. That was rather undignified. I didn't mean to burden you with my petty problems."

 Princess Ruby quickly should her head and placed a hand on Annabelle's arm comfortingly.

 "I don't think they're petty," she said sincerely. "I understand."  

"You do?"

 The Princess nodded and squeezed Annabelle's arm slightly, sending a pulse of warmth up it and straight into Annabelle's chest. "I do. I am prepared to devote my life to protecting Candia, but that? I couldn't imagine… I don't think I could do it either."

 Annabelle swallowed back a wave of emotion as she ducked her head, peaking at the red liquorice through her eyelashes. "You truly think that?"

 "I do," the princess confirmed.

 Then she reached down and plucked something out of the shadows of the bush that was at the end of the beach turning around to reveal a sleek purple cat that looked as if it was some form of soft, dyed chocolate.

 "Do you want to cuddle Cerridwen?" she asked, already offering the creature out to Annabelle.

 Annabelle blinked as she reached out and accepted the cat without even really thinking about it. "You named her Cerridwen?  After the Lacra goddess?"

 The princess smiled and nodded. "Yes, the Goddess of rebirth and knowledge."  

Annabelle looked into the princess' eyes, who met her gaze unflinchingly. True, Cerridwen's many domains included rebirth and knowledge, but she was most prominently known as the Goddess of magic and change, with her secondary traits as the goddess death and rebirth. Both. But Annabelle suspected that the princess already knew that.

 "May I say, you have very fine taste, princess," Annabelle complimented, running her fingers through the silky fur as the cat curled up in her lap ad began to emit a low purr that caused some of the tension to melt out of her shoulders.

 Princess Ruby's eyes gleamed. "Why thank you, Captain Annabelle."

 Annabelle grinned.

 -----

 Amethar looked at his old friend and felt his heart twist.

 In his memories, Tarthur raced across a deck, knocking enemies overboard and slashing his opponent's throat. He stood tall as he commanded fleets and strategised attacks. He grinned mischievously as he sent Manta Ray and Morris after the Candian troops to act as the Dairy Island representatives in the battles that occurred on land. He was cheerful, vibrant and full of life.

 Amethar was struggling reconcile his memories with the man that was standing in front of him. Tarthur's skin was tired and wrinkled and Amethar could see wear it was hanging loosely on his skin. The Prince of the Dairy Isles didn't stand as tall as he Amethar remembered, his shoulders sagging slightly with some invisible weight and his arms not imbued with the strength and dexterity that they had been a decade and a half ago.

 The only other Dairy Islander in the room, discounting the guards, was Sir Moriss and Lady Butter, who were the prince's closest advisors. They were outnumbered by the Candians, since Amethar had brought Theo, Lapin and Saccharina to the meeting.

 He had offered her to allow her closest advisor (right hand? Second in command? Girlfriend? Amethar didn't quite know their relationship, but he felt that he didn't quite know his oldest daughter well enough yet to ask), but Saccharina had sent Gooey and Swifty to watch over her sisters alongside Sir Toby and a contingent of the knights as they played in the gardens with the princess and duchess.

 They had all been on edge ever since Cal - no Cruller, that fucking bastard didn't deserve Amethar's familiarity - pulled his disappearing act. He had been cornered by knights and marauders alike, with Amethar levelling Payment Day at his throat, but then he had pulled something out, a frozen slushie artifact stolen during their raid on the Tomb of Cold when Saccharina had retrieved the Winterscoop. He'd crushed in his hand and disappeared before their very eyes and no one, not even Ruby (who Amethar was beginning to suspect had changed even more than he had previously thought, he had heard the whispers about her command of magic and, though she was generally discreet about it, he had seen her whispering to shadows and to a seemingly random assortment of people. He tried desperately not to think about how starkly that reminded him of his closest sister).

 Amethar was sought of surprised that Saccharina hadn't spoken up yet. She had apparently heard some 'disturbing rumours' from the sailors that had had her scowling and she was not one for holding her tongue in the face of injustice (a good skill in a queen, and one that Caramalinda would need to hone so they didn't accidentally start any wars with Ceresia or Vegetania). However, Saccharina had been subdued over the past day. They had gone to visit Catherine's grave before they had visited the capital, just the two of them with Theo and Gooey keeping watch from the shadows. Saccharina had only shed a few tears, but she had buried her face in his chest when he reached out to hug her.

 Amethar, himself, had had close to a month to come to terms with his first love's death. And he had loved Catherine, no matter how immature and naïve that love had been. He couldn't say if he'd have continued to love Catherine. They had barely known each other, both wrapped up in passion and giddiness and the fact that either of them could die any day. But his memories of his time with her were happy, and he could confidently say that he was proud of the daughter that had come from their union, even if he did not know her nearly as much as he would like.

 He could see what Ruby had been talking about. Saccharina would be a good ruler. She had sat through lessons with the girls on their way back, not grumbling, even though she was taking classes with girls six years her junior, and not complaining when she'd needed help from sad girls. Amethar was proud of all his daughters. Jet and Ruby had welcomed Saccharina readily and had assisted her where she needed help, both of them eagerly listening to her stories of battles and magic and hardship within the realm that they had been ignorant of. His girls would be good for Candia, in the same way that his sisters would have been good for it.

 Now, it was his job to be a good role model for them and to make their job's easier when they eventually took them up. He had always thought that day would be so far away. That he could let his girls be naïve and joyful and innocent as long as they wanted. He had wanted so badly to just let them be children. But that wasn't their lot in life. And he could never know what the new day would bring. His daughters were the princesses of Candia and they needed to be prepared accordingly. Somehow, Amethar was the last one to learn that lesson.

 He needed to do a lot of grovelling to Cara when he got home. They both knew they would never love each other, not in the way that they were both looking for, but he was tired of the painful gap between them, a chasm that he'd allowed to be filled with resentment and bitterness over the years.

 Amethar looked around at the silent room, and back to the way that Tarthur was staring out the window, a distant look in his eyes as he observed the courtyard below where Jet was standing on a bench, giving some sort of impassioned speech to an awed Primsy and an amused Manta Ray.

 Well, if he was going to be king, then he would need to start doing some of the hard things that he had always avoided.

 "What happened to you, Tarth?" he asked, ignoring the way that Theo stiffened slightly, the closest approximation of disapproval that the gumby bear would allow himself to outwardly show towards Amethar.

 Tarthur's eyes snapped to Amethar and he blinked a few times before he answered, "Life, my old friend. Life is what happened to me."

 Amethar nodded. "I suppose if the fight doesn't get ya, life will eventually."

 Tarthur chuckled, which turned into a light cough before he nodded. "Aye, Amethar. You're right."

 Amethar smiled. "Bet that comes as a surprise, huh Tarth?"

 Tarthur chuckled again, managing to get to the end of this one without mishap.

 They both sobered quickly though.

 "Something else is happening, isn't it?" Amethar asked, getting straight to the point. He had never been very good at having hard conversations, and it would be impossible for him to approach them with anything but bluntness. They were painful enough without him having to parse fancy words.

 All three Dairy Islanders grimaced and then Tarthur glanced to his side and Lady Butter started to explain in her lilting tone, the situation of the Princess. When she got to the end of her story, Amethar looked to the prince, who's gaze was down turned, not meeting Amethar's wrinkled forehwead.

 "Tarth," he said, feeling something in his chest twist. "You can't do this."

 Tarthur sighed, his entire back hunching. "I have to Amethar. I have no choice. House Cheddar isn't exactly in a position to refuse the offer of such a wealthy and powerful house."

 "You can't really expect your daughter to do this?" Amethar couldn't imagine any progeny of Tarthur's accepting such restricting chains.

 "The princess will do her duty," Moriss said firmly, with a confidence that Amethar knew was faked. "She will do what is best for the kingdom."

 "She'd abdicate before she agreed," Amethar countered. He'd seen the gleam in the girl's eye, the confidence she'd commanded as her ship had welcomed the Candian entourage and led them into port. People don't just give that up. Not unless there was truly no there was truly no other option.

 Both Lady Butter and Moriss recoiled at his statement. The lady gasped as Moriss shook his head in denial.

 "She would not abandon the Islands like that," Moriss said. "She loves her people."

 "She's seventeen. You're asking her to throw her life away."

 "It is for the good of the kingdom! It's the best course for our future."

 "And she's just a child! She doesn't deserve this."

 A deadly silence fell into the gap between Moriss and Amethar as they glared at each other. Amethar could feel the tension behind him and knew that Theo had his hand on the Battlepop.

 "Maybe her abdicating is the best course of action," Tarthur murmured, drawing the attention of everyone in the room.

 "Your highness -" Lady Butter began only to be cut off by her prince.

 "We cannot afford to get into a scuffle with House Swiss. We already have too many houses slipping from our control. We would have a virtual civil war on our hands if they rebelled," he explained and then looked up at Amethar, his eyes glassy. "But I love my daughter. I don't want to see her with someone like him. You know, Jane and I thought that she could use the old magics to summon a child when she was younger, regardless of who she married. But we all know that the Church wouldn’t stand for it in this day and age. The only way she could really be happy is if she abdicated. Primsy is still far too young for a courtship and, regardless, she will be less of a target than Annabelle and she already fancies herself half in love with some priest so she will be far less desirable."

 "Not having a Cheddar on the throne would destabilise the Dairy Islands," Moriss said.

 "If the Islands need to be held together by this sham of a union then it doesn't deserve to be held together!" Tarthur replied fiercely only to break off into a coughing fit that had him almost bending over.

 Moriss was immediately at his side, helping his prince and supporting him.

 Tarthur took a deep shuddering breath as he straightened. "I'm dying Moriss. I don't want the last thing I do to make my daughter miserable."

 Both Amethar and Moriss looked away at that. Amethar found his throat too sticky with emotion to offer up any words of comfort.

 A moment later, he was startled as someone cleared his throat loudly from right behind Amethar's shoulder. Amethar jumped, along with everyone else, and glanced to the side to find Lapin standing there, his arms folded within his purple foil robe.

 "Forgive me, your highnesses," the chocolate bunny said, his eats twitching. "But, I may have a solution."

 Amethar raised an eyebrow. "Yes, Chancellor?"

 "The Princess Ruby was discussing an interest in strengthening Candia's inter-kingdom relations. Candia and the Dairy Islands have always had the strongest alliance of any of the other kingdoms in Candia, but a formal renewal of said alliance couldn't hurt."

 "Your solution to my daughter being married off… is to marry my daughter off."

 Lapin frowned and oh, Amethar liked that expression, the one he always got when he was frustrated with the girls but didn't want to show it. It usually occurred when they were being deliberately obtuse.

 "Not a formal proposal, just a loose discussion, a negotiation if you will. There are no nobles of an appropriate age or status for the Princess to marry at this stage, but she will need to marry within in a decade of her taking the throne, regardless of whether she accepts the throne or not and there are several houses with children who will be eligible within the next ten years. A promise of a marriage alliance with Candia would certainly be grounds for dismissing any internal proposals. And it would give her enough time to find someone she could be happy with."

 All three Dairy Islanders frowned.

 "It could work," Sir Moriss mumbled.

 "It definitely could," Tarthur agreed. "There has not been inter-kingdom marriage alliances of such a high level in decades. A promise such as this would be more than enough reason to refuse House Swiss."

 Lady Butter frowned worriedly, "Lord Swiss will not be happy."

 Tarthur waved his hand. "Lord Swiss will have no leg to stand on, Grace. Not legally."

 "And a formal alliance would be an actionable reason to send Candian fighters to the Dairy Islands," Theo said. "To strengthen their skills in water battles, of course. It would be a nice inter-kingdom training effort."

 Amethar laughed. "I like what you're thinking, Theo."

 Tarthur looked at Amethar, his eyes widening. "You would do that?"

 Amethar clapped him on the shoulder, gently so as not to harm him further. "Of course I would. To help Candia's closest ally and to help my friend. I watched you shit and piss. I'm not just going to leave you hanging out to dry."

 ----

 Ruby had enjoyed her time on the seas, but she was glad to be home.

 She allowed herself to join in on Jet's excited chattering as they walked up from Dulcington where they'd docked. They both chattered away at Saccharina, telling her of everything she could expect from the castle and her knew life and Saccharina listened amiably as if they hadn't already had this conversation at least five times before, a huge grin on her face.

 Gooey, Swift and Jonbon were walking with them with the rest of the sailors and marauders helping the boats get settled before they would arrive at the castle to be redirected to their quarters. Their mother had already begun construction of their own dwellings, only a little ways away from Dulcington, growing the small town considerably.

 The exhaustion had finally faded from Ruby's bones after weeks of feeling faint after the spell and though, she was unable to banish the constant edge she felt, always needing to do something to help, she was able to allow giddiness to overtake it for a time.

 She smiled widely as the gates of the castle opened and her mother stepped out, followed by a contingent of her own guard, regal and beautiful and smiling warmly at all of them.

 Behind her was a figure that Ruby had missed dearly in the past month.

 "And may I introduce the new Ward of the King, Count Wilhelmina."

 Liam stepped forward but his eyes were plastered on Ruby.

 "You're really here."

-----

How did you like this?

[royalcordelia]

The Peace, The Storm (1/1)

(In which Gilbert discovers he missed a very vital piece of information sitting on his kitchen table. Spoilers for 3x09)

“Suddenly, he saw her there in her mother’s garden. Sun on her shoulders, wind in her hair. The smell of the flowers she held in her hand and the pollen that fell from her fingertips. And suddenly [he] was only a man with a taste of nectar upon his lips.” - Hadestown

+++

The Island had funny ways of telling Gilbert that he was in its favor. It was subtle in its tender attentions, entangling over his heart when he was sailing in far off places and giving warmth when he returned to its shores. It was faithful to him the same way a friend was, nudging him in the direction the young girl he’d been wandering aimlessly for since his train had arrived from Charlottetown. 

Anne. Just the thought of her made his breath shudder in his chest. 

Soon, his mind was full of her and he wasn’t aware of where he was wandering. The only thing he knew was that walking meant that he could rest content with his memories for a few moments longer, and relive them until he eventually found the real thing. His eyes searched the scenery, discovering traces of her in the Queen Anne’s Lace and the fluttering butterflies that danced from blossom to blossom. 

He was so drunk off of the thought of her that he barely registered when she actually appeared before him, laying in a bed of grass on the same cliffside where he’d remembered her. It was her hair he saw first, tangled up in the long grass like a spreading flame, but then he noticed her arms spread out at her sides. Her fingers weaved like wind through the grass, slow and numb. A thick rush of longing constricted Gilbert’s throat, making it impossible to call out to her. Her spirit radiated out, heavy, but sweet like pollen. 

With greater ease than he anticipated, Gilbert called out her name. 

Something Gilbert couldn’t name overcame Anne’s expression, and she shot up to her elbow. Her gaze claimed him, yearning and yielding in its intensity. She wanted to run away, that much he could see, but something kept her fixed to the ground. The lashes of her eyes were red at the brims, and streaks of tears had marbled onto her cheeks. 

“Have you been crying?” he asked dumbly. She turned her face away, sunset orange hair failing to shield the tremor in her lip. 

With delicate movements, Gilbert situated himself at her side, sitting beside where she lay. How simple it would be to lay flush beside her and bury his face into her shoulder where her red hair was bundled. His fingers twitched at the thought of how soft her skin would be, how her presence would soothe him to his soul. 

To keep himself from doing this, he found his words. 

“I was sorry to hear about Ka’kwet. Marilla told me of your plans to write to The Globe. I could proofread your letter before you send it if you like.” Anne said nothing. Gilbert shifted. “I suppose you’d prefer that Miss Stacy read it.” 

Still, Anne was silent. Gilbert glanced over at her and found her fingers shaking and clutching at the grass for a lifeline. It wasn’t like her to sit so still, to isolate her pain to herself. 

“I’m sorry I was away when everything was happening,” he murmured, placing a hand on her shoulder. As if he had doused her with boiling water, Anne rushed to her feet and began to hasten along the cliffside path. 

“Anne?” he called out. Her pace only sped up, so he called again. “Anne!”

This time, her footsteps froze in the path. Against the greenery of the plains, she cut the silhouette of a woman, strong in her shoulders with her coppery hair spinning to gold in the breeze. Gilbert knew he should say something -  especially if he nearly suffocated every time she existed too closely to him. 

Then she was spinning around, and stomping up to him. Her arms were crossed protectively against her chest, but her glare shot right through him. She entered his space, shattering his sense of reality, sending him tumbling backwards. More tears trickled down her cheeks but she didn’t seem to notice.

“Don’t you have anything to say to me?” she demanded.

Gilbert gaped, shaking his head in utter confusion. 

“What- I-...Anne, what are you talking about?” 

Her teeth clenched together. Gilbert could feel her boring into him - begging, and begging, and begging. What for, though, he didn’t know. When he said nothing, the resolve in her disintegrated away, and Anne resigned. She stumbled backwards a step, nodding bitterly. 

“I want my pen back,” she stated coldly. Gilbert bristled. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad being at the receiving end of her ire if only he knew what he’d done to hurt her so badly. A few traitorous ideas entered the back of his mind, but he refused to entertain them. No, he thought, she couldn’t possibly...

“My apologies,” Gilbert said slowly. “I didn’t realize I still had it.” 

“You didn’t- ” Anne choked. “I’m fairly certain I mentioned it in the note I left you. You know, the one that I laid my entire heart out on. The one you blatantly ignored without even acknowledging it!” 

“Note? Anne, I never-” 

“Or maybe you just decided to stop reading it after the part where I told you I love you! Did you crumple it up and burn right then and there or did you tear it up and throw it with the kitchen scraps?” 

Gilbert was stunned into silence, but only for just long enough for him to gather his wits.

“What did you just say?” 

Anne’s glare lost its bite, melting away into a raw ache that Gilbert could feel. Another tear slid down her face, disappearing into the tall grass. She filled her lungs with the summer air, but her hands still shook. Gilbert wanted to grab them, but instead he gave her space to articulate her thoughts. Finally, she spoke in a soft tone.

“I said quite a bit, but I imagine the part you’re referring to is the part where I said that I’m dreadfully in love with you.” She wiped her hand across her cheek. “I tried to tell you sooner, but you were never home. That’s when I left you a note-” 

“-Anne,” Gilbert interrupted. “I didn’t receive any note.” 

Her brows knit together.

“I left it right on the table. Underneath the water pitcher.” 

Gilbert shook his head. He didn’t care about the logistics of how the note went missing. All that mattered was that there was one - a beautiful, handwritten note from Anne Shirley Cuthbert that contained the astonishing fact that she loved him. 

His breath was swept from him once again. Anne loved him. She had tried to tell him, but all she’d received was silence. 

The sea would be right to swallow him up for the things he put her through. 

“When I came to you that night-” he stammered.

“-I was drunk, and confused, and terrified,” she explained, tucking her arms closer to her. “How could I tell you to choose me when I have nothing to offer you.” 

It was at that moment that Gilbert realized that a man must speak things clearly to be understood. No more dancing around the truth, no more sending unspoken messages. Just the words as they appear in the dictionary, the truth as it exists in his heart. Yet, he barely needed any words at all to be clear. 

“I love you,” he confessed on a heartsick whisper. “All the things you offer me, they’re more precious than anything I could ever have in this world.” 

Anne’s eyes widened until they blended with the periwinkle sea behind her. A watery sob escaped her lips that was half-way a burst of relieved laughter. Her cheeks lifted in a lovelorn smile that sparkled in amazement. His own chest turning blissfully lighter, he continued.

“You should know that I’m not engaged to Winifred, and I never intend to be. Truth be told, I’m not certain I’m ready for marriage yet. One day I will be.” He paused. “I hope that won’t come as a disappointment to you.” 

“Disappointment? ” Anne cried. “You’ve just told me that you’re not engaged and that you love me and you think I’m disappointed?! Gilbert, I think there are so many places that we need to journey as individuals before we start a life together, and that doesn’t disappoint me at all. How glorious it is to have my feelings met and matched.” 

Venturing forward, Gilbert reached for her hands, which Anne gladly offered. His thumbs grazed the softness of her skin, sending a thrill up her arms. 

“What now?” Gilbert asked. 

“I humbly suggest an arrangement,” Anne offered, beaming up at him. 

“Of what sort?” 

“Courting has too many rules. I propose we take things at our own pace and follow our own rules. We can call ourselves what we wish and do what suits us. We’ll be free to do  grow as people until the day comes when we’re ready to come together.” 

Gilbert considered this, approving most of it. 

“I don’t want to be just friends, though.” 

Anne shook her head. “Me either.” 

“Then I accept your proposal, Anne,” Gilbert said with no mock formality. “And I give you mine.” 

Anne stepped forward, wrapping her arms around him and peering up to see what he would say. Instead, he pulled a pen from his pocket and held it out before her.

“Write to me. Rewrite me that note I never got to read, write me if we attend different schools, write me when you’re sad or elated. Write me when need a reminder that for me, it’s only you. I want to hear what you have to say, always.” 

Anne pulled one of her hands away from his waist to take the pen and hold it close to her chest. 

“I like the sound of that,” she said. 

Gilbert opened his mouth - whether to tease her, to praise her, to apologize, Anne didn’t know. Nor did she care. She rose to her toes and pressed her lips to his, lingering a few seconds longer than she originally intended. It was just long enough for Gilbert to take her face in her hands and return the kiss. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead on hers and shared her breath. 

“What did your note even say?” he wondered. Anne shrugged.

“Things you know now. If I were to write a revised one, it’d go like this…” Anne cleared her throat. “Dear Gilbert, thank you for coming back to me. I love you, Anne.” 

Gilbert brushed a piece of her hair away from her face with a smile.

“Mine would say: Dear Anne, thank you for not giving up on me. I love you too. Yours, Gilbert.” 

They settled back onto the grass, holding hands and telling their stories from the start. Gilbert’s began the day he met her in the forest, the day he trailed behind her and had unknowingly sewn himself into the fabric of her heart. Anne’s story jumped around in time as she struggled to put into words the feelings she’d always harbored for him. Behind them, the sky bathed them in magenta light. The island shared in the storytelling, turning their words into gold beneath its red soil. 

[d3-iseefire]

Nevermore Chapter Two

Five Years Later - 

Bilba pasted a smile on her face, and lifted the pastry box over the counter. “Here you go, Ma’am. Enjoy.”

The woman, a middle-aged blonde who apparently loved bright colors and oversized sunglasses, smiled brightly. “Thanks. My daughter is going to love it.”

She spun and wound her way through the round white tables and lattice work chairs of the small bakery. 

The second she vanished through the door into the fading light outside, Bilba’s smile vanished. Quietly, she walked around the register and went to the door. She flipped the “open” sign over to “closed” and, with a quick turn of her wrist, locked the door. 

She moved slowly through the room, wiping the tables down and putting the chairs up. The display case had already been emptied so she closed out the register and flipped the lights off. Gloom settled over the room and Bilba suppressed a shiver.

Clutching the money bag far too tightly, she pushed through the double doors into the back of the bakery. Here, her co-workers were chatting animatedly as they finished cleaning the room and prepping for the very early morning they would have getting baked goods ready for the day. 

Bilba headed to the small office where her boss, Bombur Urson, was scribbling away in a ledger. She placed the money bag on the desk, coins and paper money rustling and clinking inside, and turned to go. 

“Bilba?” Bombur’s quiet voice stopped her mid-step. “A few of us are going to Arkenstone for a bit. Would you like to join us?”

Bilba put the smile back on, or hoped she did anyway. It had been so long since she’d have a real one that she sometimes forgot what muscles to use. It was impossible for her to tell anymore if what she was doing was smiling, or grimacing.

“Sorry. I have plans.” The lie slid out easily, She’d said it enough times over the last five years, to co-workers, bosses, neighbors in whatever community she’d been living in. They tended to blur together after a while, a murky mass of faces and voices asking her to take part, join in. Belong. 

As if she deserved any of that. 

As if she could have it even if she wanted it. 

Bombur didn’t seem surprised. “Maybe next time.”

“Maybe.” Definitely not. Bilba kept the smile on a few more seconds, and then left the office. Back in the kitchen area, none of her colleagues so much as spared her a glance. Over the two weeks that she’d been there they’d already learned that her response to any personal questions would be vague, and her answer to invitations a polite no. Bombur was the only one to continue to ask, longer than most did, but he’d give up eventually. 

They always did. 

She retrieved her coat and purse from her small locker and pushed through the back door into the brisk fall air. The back of the bakery butted up to a wide open plan and, in the distance, she could see tall, snow capped mountains reaching toward the sky. 

Sometimes, she had to fight a desire to just start walking toward them even though, rationally, she knew they were a lot farther away than they looked. 

She headed around the corner of the building, to the small parking lot in front. The area was newer construction, with wide streets and white bricked buildings with beautiful landscaping that blended into the environment. 

Most of the buildings were only a story or two, a sharp contrast to the densely packed skyscrapers that seemed to just spring out of the ground only a few blocks away. The city state of Erebor liked nature as much as anyone, but they had a firm belief in the idea that everything had its place. The city proper for business with high buildings and narrow streets, and the outskirts and other territories for a slower, more comfortable paced life. 

Bright lights flashed in her vision and Bilba looked across the street to the exception to that rule. Arkenstone, a multi-story entertainment complex that housed everything from a food court, to shopping, a movie theater and, she was told, a very exclusive high end nightclub on the top floor. 

One would think the place wouldn’t do as well, located on the edge of the city as it was and well away from the nightlife center, but the exact opposite was true. Arkenstone played to the exhausted employee, straight off a full shift and wanting to relax a little before going home. Arkenstone allowed them to literally stop by on the way, and to be mere minutes away when the full weight of their day finally hit and all they wanted was a soft bed and their most comfortable pajamas. 

Or so claimed the city’s official website anyway. Personally, Bilba imagined the rumor that Arkenstone was personally owned and operated by Erebor’s ruling family was the greatest allure. She doubted the royals had ever set foot in the place, but the fantasy of bumping into one of them was probably a pretty strong selling point. 

The lights flashed again and she frowned at the giant, diamond shaped...disco diamond? Whatever it was called, the thing was massive, the top reaching over the roof of the building and the pointed bottom ending just above the front doors. It reminded her a little of some of the sparkly balls that various places would drop on New Year’s to ring in the next year. The only difference was this one didn’t move, and it was there all year round. 

She’d heard that the color patterns that flashed every hour from the...whatever...were truly spectacular at night, but she had no plans of ever seeing them. 

A shiver ran over her, as if by simply thinking about the dark she might inadvertently summon it. She looked up, a habit now as ingrained as breathing, to see the sun well past its zenith but not yet officially setting. 

It was going down earlier and earlier as the days clicked toward winter. 

She hated it. 

It would soon be dark as soon as she got up, and dark by the time she finished work. The night was not her friend, hadn’t been for five years now. She tried, as best she could, to get shifts that would allow her to be out only during the day but sometimes, and especially in the later months, it was simply not possible. 

She fumbled her key into the lock of her car, opened the door, and slid in. The worn seats had almost no padding and she could feel the sharp edges of springs poking through tears in the fabric covering.  

The seats hadn’t been ripped when she’d gotten the car. 

She got the key in the ignition, sent up a silent prayer, and turned it. The engine sputtered for a few seconds and  then, mercifully, turned over into an almost smooth rumble. 

Bilba wrapped her hands around the wheel and clenched her fingers until the cracked leather creaked under her fingers. She shut her eyes and let out a long breath. “Okay,” she whispered to herself. “Okay.”

She opened her eyes. Her heart began to thud in her chest, an action now so familiar to her that it felt strange when she couldn’t feel it. An uncomfortable sensation ran through her gut, and a cold sweat broke out on her brow. 

In a movement so slow it was nearly glacial, she pushed up until her eyes peeked over the bottom edge of her rearview mirror. 

The relief she felt at seeing the backseat empty almost brought tears to her eyes. It was quickly erased by the near constant low grade anxiety forever buzzing just under her skin but, for an instant, the relief was nice. It made her feel almost normal. 

Or at least helped her get back a tiny remembrance of what normal had once felt like. 

She backed out of her parking spot, and caught sight of her co-workers and boss on their way to Arkenstone. Bombur gave her a friendly wave and Bilba sent a hesitant one back. It didn’t occur to her until after she’d put her hand down that she’d completely forgotten to fake a smile. 

She pulled into the exit and flipped her signal on, preparing to head toward the city. She’d rented a house this time around, on the very edge of the city where her view out one window was a skyscraper and peaceful suburbia out the other. 

She usually went for apartments, but after what had happened the last time…

She shuddered, and suddenly the house was the last place she wanted to be. The thought of being trapped inside those four walls, in silence, waiting...

Before she could talk herself out of it, she flipped her blinker to signal the opposite direction, looked both ways and then pulled out onto the street. She didn’t know where she was going, just that she was going.

As she got further away from the city, the smatterings of business and strip malls gave way to homes, but not like the simple, tract like homes that lay just outside the city. No, these were the wealthy folk who lived in towering mansions with sloping, manicured lawns, and curving driveways. 

Many of them worked in the city’s palace, built into an actual mountain that served as the border between Erebor and its closest neighbor. Bilba had caught glimpses of it as she’d traveled through the city a time or two, but had never bothered to get close enough to see its entirety. There were tours apparently that people could take through the gardens and some of the ground floors but she doubted she’d have a chance to go on any of them. 

She wouldn’t be here long enough. 

The fancy homes began to peter out as she drove further, and then suddenly she was past them and the land opened up to a...a park?

On both sides of the road were rolling carpets of carefully mowed grass, and plotted out bushes. A wide, rock lined walking path meandered through, bordered on one side by the open spaces and the other by densely packed trees. 

An empty parking lot came into view and Bilba pulled into it, parked, and shut off the engine. Silence set in and, for several minutes, she didn’t move. Finally, she clicked off her seatbelt, opened the door and stepped out. 

The air was cool but still, and the light scent of pine hung in the air. Bilba crossed her arms, hunched her shoulders and headed up into the grassy area. 

Now what? 

She’d had no plan other than not going to the rental house, and now that she’d...arrived, she had no idea what to do. She had no book or anything else with her, and it was too late to consider using the walking trail for anything more than a very short walk. 

She idly wandered over to the trail, and was surprised at how beautiful it was. It was wide enough for several people to walk side by side, lined in white rock and filled with what looked like crushed granite. She stepped on it, and felt the satisfying crunch of the rock under her shoes. 

A peace like she hadn’t felt in years settled over her. The ground on the far side of the trail, leading into the forest, sloped up and she went to sit on the retaining wall holding the earth back from collapsing onto the trail. 

The wall was made of white stone and stood about what was probably waist high to an average sized person. Bilba had to brace her hands on the ledge and push up to sit on it, leaving her feet dangling well above the dirt path. 

She planted her hands on either side of her, closed her eyes and let out a breath. 

The sputter of a car engine broke the silence. 

Bilba’s eyes snapped open, and her heart leapt into her throat. 

A truck was driving slowly down the road that ran through the park. In the front cab, Bilba spotted a middle-aged man with dark hair and sunglasses. 

Please keep driving, she thought. Please keep driving. 

The truck turned into the same entrance she’d used and pulled up next to her car. As the man clambered out, Bilba instinctively scrambled up until she was standing on the low wall. 

It was fine, she told herself. He was just there to enjoy the day, like she was. It just so...happened that he’d shown up minutes after her...in a very isolated spot....where he’d chosen to park next to her in an otherwise empty lot…

Yavanna, how could she be so stupid?

“Hey!” the man called out to her, raising a hand in a half wave. “What’s your name?”

“Sarah,” Bilba lied. She desperately wanted to get back in her car and leave, but he’d moved so he was standing in front of it. She’d have to walk past him, and she wasn’t about to do that.

“Nice to meet you, Sarah.” The man sauntered forward. Something about his eyes, about the way he moved, reminded her of a snake slithering across the grass, or of a panther stalking its prey.

She’d gotten very good at recognizing both over the last five years. 

She backed up, off the wall and onto the ground where it sloped up behind her, toward the trees and forest behind her. She hoped it was a forest anyway. If it were nothing but a small copse of trees…

“Hey, now,” the man said, coming to a stop on the grassy area before the path. “Where are you going?”

“I’m looking for my dog,” Bilba blurted. “He ran away.” Maybe, maybe if he thought she had a pet, or something, he’d leave her alone. Cold raced through her, and she could feel her heart thumping against her ribs. Adrenaline surged in her bloodstream, and pushed her to either fight, or take flight. 

The man grinned, a predatory look that reminded her of a shark circling. So many animals contained within the skin of one man, and all of them predators. “I’ll help you look. What’s his name?”

He took another step forward. Bilba’s breath caught in her throat and she turned to scramble up the hill, desperate to put more distance between her and him. The ground sloped up so sharply that it was all she could do to keep her feet. She was forced almost to her hands and knees, clawing at dirt and grass as she pulled herself up the hill. 

“Ah, come on now,” the man said behind her, sounding bored. “Don’t be like that. I just want to be friends.”

Bilba grabbed onto a tree root rising from the earth, and used it to drag herself up. The motion got her to a more level section of ground at the top of the slope. 

Behind her, the man laughed. “Hope you find your dog. I’ll wait here until you get back.”

Bilba didn’t answer. Instead she plunged into the trees, and put on speed in case he changed his mind and decided to come after her. 

With every step she took she mentally kicked herself. What had she been thinking? Why had she come out here? She knew better. Didn’t she have enough to deal with without--

She never got the chance to finish the thought. It was darker inside the trees, with the canopy overhead blocking out much of the sunlight and leaving everything shrouded in shadow. 

Much darker, and she was distracted. So much so that she never even noticed when the ground suddenly sloped down again, or at least she didn’t notice until she’d already stepped one foot too far. 

Suddenly, there was nothing but open air beneath her. She barely had a chance to gasp before she was falling. 

She hit the ground hard, and then she was rolling downhill. Rocks, branches, and debris sliced and stabbed through her clothing, sending hot pricks of pain racing through her. Bilba threw her hands over her head, trying to protect herself. She frantically hoped there wasn’t a drop off at the bottom, or a tree branch just waiting for her to break a few ribs against it. 

She hit something, hard, and, just like that, her forward motion stopped dead. 

For several long moments, she stayed exactly as she was, on her stomach, face pressed into the dirt, trying to catch her breath. Her body trembled in the aftermath of the shock it had taken, and her breathing came in harsh, ragged gasps. She hurt all over, especially her right ankle which burned as if she’d managed to scrape all the skin off, but she didn’t think she’d been seriously injured. 

She put her hand out, hoping to push herself up onto her knees. Her hair had come loose from its ponytail and fell around her face like a fan, obscuring her vision. Her right hand flailed out, reaching for whatever had stopped her fall in the hopes it could serve as a support to help her regain her footing. 

Her hand encountered fur. 

Bilba stopped moving. 

She stopped breathing. 

She was pretty sure her heart stopped beating in her chest. 

Under her hand, the fur rose and fell with the steadiness of breathing which meant that, whatever she’d landed against, was definitely not some dead animal carcass left by….she didn’t want to know what. 

Please be a deer, she thought. A really nice deer who was perhaps raised by humans, and had saved her in the spirit of human/animal friendship. 

Please. 

Please.

Please, be a deer. 

Slowly she turned her head, not a lot, just enough to look out of the corner of her eye. Get a glimpse through the curtain of her own hair. 

Just enough to see --

It wasn’t a deer.

It was a wolf.

The biggest she’d ever seen. 

And it was staring right back at her.

Continue Reading on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27298015/chapters/66695635

[noveltea-lolita]

Winter King {RusCan}

@aphrarepairweek2020

This is a little gift for @bogbees! They’ve drawn so much fanart for my ongoing fanfic The Witch and the Prophecy that I wanted to thank them by writing them a little drabble! I hope you like it, and thank you so much for all of your support on my story, @bogbees! 

This takes place in the not-so-distant future of TWATP. It’s basically a sneak peak of the second part of the series. I think you can still enjoy this if you haven’t read the parent story. All you need to know is: Matthew is a crippled Seer (has the ability to see the future), and he and a group of characters (the ones mentioned here are Feliciano, Gilbert, Ludwig, and Kiku) are on a journey to save their continent Esmya from the evil king of Avalon.

Warnings: barely mentioned omegaverse. 

Day 7: Magic

Voronsk, capital of the Imperial Kingdom of Glaceria

Matthew thought he knew the meaning of cold, having grown up in the steppes of Glaceria near their shared, northern border with Avalon, and then traveling through Avalon on foot in the winter with minimal items to keep him and his friends warm, but nothing could compare to the freezing temperatures in Glaceria’s capital of Voronsk.

However, the skin piercing cold was bearable, manageable, compared to the horrific crowd in the ballroom of the imperial palace he was in the midst of fleeing from. With every step he took, the base of his oak staff clicked against the slated pavement winding through the dense, evergreen filled royal garden. He stopped, and let out a long, visible breath when he deemed himself safe from the hungry eyed dvoryanstvo- Glacerian nobility- that were so desperate to speak with him.

“What sort of magic does a Seer possess?” “A long lost prince of Avalon… How extraordinary!” “But you are a beta, what kind of power could you possess in court?”

Matthew’s skin prickled beneath his heavy blue coat as he thought of the many words thrown his way before he had been able to slip away, head down the grand staircase, and flee via the royal garden. The guards lined against the door didn’t try to stop him, probably since he and his friends were here as personal guests of His Majesty, though it was nerve racking walking past them.

But he was out of the amber ballroom, glistening with brightly lit sconces and jewel dripping dvoryanstvo. Deeming it safe, Matthew stopped beside a stone bench in front of a small lake and took a seat, allowing his twisted, ruined left knee a well-deserved rest. He ran a black gloved hand over his face and forced himself to count to ten. Slowly, he began to calm down.

He took one more deep breath before opening his eyes in order to take a proper look at his surroundings. The palace garden must be larger than he originally imagined considering there was an inky lake in front of him, surface filled with the millions of stars twinkling in the black sky above. Scattered throughout the garden were evergreen trees, shrubs, and bushes, but not much else. That was no surprise; Glaceria was a land of everlasting winter. There wasn’t much of anything that grew. Piles of snow rested around garden though servants had swept it away from the slated path; it glistened from the dark green trees and dripped from holly berries. Matthew preferred the sight over the dancing bodies and jewelry from the ballroom.

Here, it was quiet. Only the sound of his own breathing and faint music from the palace drifted through the air on soundwaves. There was an eerie stillness surrounding the garden, but Matthew didn’t mind it. It just reminded him he was alone right now, and that’s what he wanted more than anything.

He turned his head to the side in order to look at the mighty palace he had just fled from. From the outside, the palace seemed almost simple with white and pale turquoise walls. It was interior that told everyone just how grand it actually was. Mosaics, and gold, and amber. Beauty was etched in every corner of it. From his seat in the garden, he could see the white balcony leading from the ballroom, his vision only slightly obscured by the trees.

Inside the ballroom, his friends were dancing or eating or talking the night away. His heart twisted within his chest as he thought of them, and how stressed, and tired, and on edge they had all been since their departure from Avalon weeks ago, but tonight they had seemed happy. Dressed in extravagant clothes tailored by the very best in Glaceria, they were each treated as personal guests just as he was.  Even Feliciano and Kiku, whose thoughts had been with their children left behind with the rebellion, had been bouncing in excitement- or rather, Feliciano had been bouncing while Kiku smiled and allowed his friend to talk his ear off. They were all having fun together.

But Matthew didn’t… belong with them. He looked away from the balcony and stared at his thighs. Like the others, he too wore an outfit made specifically for him. Tight black pants and knee high boots threaded by blue laces with a golden belt looped around his waist. His shirt was completely covered by his blue jacket- it was the kind of jacket that was longer in the back, but he knew next to nothing about fashion so the specific name of the style was lost to him. Stitched around the jacket’s collar, arm cuffs, and the tops of his boots were fluffy white puffs that looked like clouds. It was buttoned together by actual gold, and the exterior lining looked like threaded gold. His hair was tied back in the tiniest ponytail, allowing only a few curly strands to fall against his powdered face.

Apparently, make-up wasn’t something only omegas wore in Glaceria. He should be lucky he wasn’t stuffed into a corset like Feliciano and Gilbert. He drew the white handkerchief from his pocket after removing his glasses, and pressed it against his face. He pushed against his flesh, trying to scrub every last drop of make-up from his skim. When he dropped the now stained cloth back to his lap, his face still felt sticky but not nearly as heavy.

Matthew blinked at the lake with a heavy chest. He couldn’t be happy like his friends, not when destruction was on the horizon. Not when his heart was so twisted and confused. Not when he couldn’t even master the magic thought to be in his veins. He tilted his head back to the stars, twinkling dimly beneath a sheen layer of clouds.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he whispered, hoping someone, anyone, was listening. “Now would be a great time for another vision. Something, anything, that lets me know we’re doing the right thing.”

But the stars, and the gods, and the ones who walked Esmya before him were silent. As usual. He lowered his head with a wry smile. “Guess not.”

“I thought I might find you out here, Matovyy.” Matthew shivered without meaning to, but the deeply accented voice that said his name always sent unwanted chills down his spine. Without looking up, he made to stand, but the voice stopped him. “No need to bow, we are past that stage, yes?”

“I, I suppose we are.” Slowly, Matthew turned his head to face the alpha approaching him. Tall and large, bigger than Ludwig and Herakles even, was the King of Glaceria, Ivan. For a king, his clothes weren’t nearly as exquisite as the nobles in his palace. He wore black pants, pale brown boots, and a long dark purple coat with platinum buttons. The collar of the jacket was folded against his chest, allowing his signature scarf to make home around his neck. The scarf didn’t match the rest of his outfit, or the diamond encrusted crown atop his head, but it matched him, Ivan Braginski.

And Matthew wasn’t entirely sure how he felt knowing what did and didn’t match the Winter King’s personality.

Unsure of what to do, he patted the space beside him but Ivan shook his head. Instead of sitting, he walked closer to the bench and stood beside it, drowning out Matthew’s presence. He tried not to stare at the alpha, but it was hard not to. Ivan was very… something. Something Matthew had never seen before, and, try as he may, he could not ignore the invisible force pushing him toward the man.

“Are you allowed to be out here?” Matthew asked without really thinking. His eyes widened. “I-I meant, should you be out here? Of course you’re allowed to be, since you’re the king, but won’t your people miss you?”

He still wasn’t sure how to talk to Ivan.

Ivan grunted. “Crowds are not my favorite.” His words were just a bit awkward in the common tongue. Matthew offered to speak in the Glacerian language when they first met, but Ivan refused, claiming he needed more practice with the common tongue of Esmya. “I much prefer the garden. My sisters can… entertain the guests.”

“Oh.” Matthew finally looked back at his lap, and his heart stuttered when he took in the handkerchief shining against his legs. He snatched it back up and shakily stuffed it in his pocket before Ivan could say anything. Gods, he hoped the other hadn’t seen it!

“I do not think you need it either,” Ivan said. “Powder. You are very beautiful without it.”

Matthew nearly choked on the icy air as an extra wave of embarrassment crashed into him. “Oh.” He cleared his throat before it could crack. “Thank you.”

“You are welcome.”

Ivan was ridiculously blunt. He didn’t blush and flail as he complimented Matthew, like… someone else had. The breath caught in his throat at the thought of that someone. He abruptly stood, gripping his staff for dear life. “Well. I, uh, will leave you to your solitude. I think Ludwig wanted to dance- I mean, not Ludwig, he wouldn’t want to do that. Feliciano is who I meant. Good night-”

“Matovyy.” Matthew froze as a large, ungloved, freezing cold hand rested against his own. It was so cold, he could feel it through the fabric of his own glove. “Stay. And dance with me.”

Ivan’s bright purple eyes were unflinching as they bore into his own. He should say no, claim he was tired or that his friends would be worried about him, but that invisible force shoved him harder and he found himself murmuring, “Okay.”

Ivan smiled. “We will make a magic lesson of it, yes?”

Since they arrived in Voronsk one week ago, Ivan had been giving Matthew magic lessons.

“Our magic is similar,” Ivan had said during their first lesson. “I am a druid and a Ledyanoy, you are a witch and a Seer. We must use spells in order to draw the magic from our veins. It cannot just appear from sheer will alone, like a Fae, shapeshifter, or Elementalist.”

The success rate is debatable.

But a magic lesson meant Matthew could hide behind that. There didn’t have to be any… any sort of romance involved. No, what was he thinking of? Dancing didn’t mean romance! He’s danced with Feliciano before and that wasn’t romantic! It was just a friendly waltz. That’s all this would be. He hoped… did he hope for that?

Matthew nodded. Ivan let go of his hand and removed his diamond crown, placing it on the bench. Then he pried the staff from Matthew’s other hand and let it lean against the bench, right beside the crown. There was a faint, barely there, golden glow inside the etched out runes across the staff, but they were ignored for now as Ivan led Matthew across the snowy garden until they were right in front of the lake.

“The first kind of magic I taught you is the magic of ice,” Ivan said quietly, his deep voice unusually soft. “It is difficult to master, but it is the easiest to create in my home.”

Ivan closed his eyes and whispered the words of the spell in the rough Glacerian language. Nothing visibly happened until he took a step onto the lake and ice appeared beneath him, keeping him above the surface. He kicked his foot back as if he were ice skating and glided further across the unfrozen water. Matthew tried not to gasp as Ivan continued gliding against the lake, leaving a small trail of ice behind that melted after a few seconds. The top of the lake was so dark, it looked like Ivan was floating through the air. His hands stayed behind his back, folded against the small of it. He was beautiful.

He drew to a stop in front of Matthew and held out a hand. “You will stay afloat like this while holding on to me.”

Matthew’s eyes widened. Oh, dear. “I- I don’t think I’m skilled enough to do this just yet. Besides, my knee isn’t strong enough to…” He trailed off because he knew, no matter what excuses he gave, Ivan wouldn’t let him walk away. He was a very strict teacher. With a small sigh, he said, “I’m not sure if I can forgive you if you let me fall in.”

Surprisingly, Ivan made a sound that could have been a laugh. “I will catch you, Matovyy.”

He believed those words. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to remember all there was to creating magic such as this. Druids and witches could only use natural magic, like ice, water, and lightning. They could never be as powerful as Elves, Fae, or Elementalists, but it was powerful enough that the humans in Avalon feared them. Whispering the spell and focusing every bit of attention to his feet, Matthew took a step toward the surface of the lake.

And stayed afloat. He blinked in shock. There was ice spreading from the bottoms of his feet! He was doing it! Then he gasped as his balance began to wobble, and he slumped forward, squeezing his eyes shut as he waited for the water to consume him, but it didn’t. He fell into an impossibly hard chest that was, perhaps, a mixture of fat and muscle, and stayed afloat. An arm wrapped itself around his waist and drew him even closer as an extra layer of ice spread beneath his left foot. He blinked up at his savior, one of the few people he actually had to look up to properly look into their eyes.

Ivan was smiling. “We will work on it.”

Matthew was too breathless to speak. He gasped as Ivan started moving backwards, pushing against the gentle flow of the water. He gripped Ivan’s jacket as he tried keeping the ice against his feet, as he tried not to think about the cold plunge that could be seconds away. Instead he tried to think about the heatless body he was clinging to, and the graceful movements he was trying to fall into sync with.

“You are not looking,” Ivan said with, what sounded like, a smile on his face. “You cannot see much with your face in my chest.”

Matthew didn’t look up. “I’m trying to concentrate.”

“You are smart enough to concentrate while looking at your surroundings.” Still, he didn’t. “If you cannot believe in yourself then believe in me. I will not let you fall. I give you a King’s promise.”

Matthew couldn’t help his small smile. “What does that mean?”

Ivan’s cool breath misted against his ear. “It means if I break it, I will step down as King.”

The background music completely faded as Matthew’s grip against the velvet jacket loosened. “You have that much faith in yourself?”

“No. I have that much faith in you.”

It was like Ivan’s words were a spell. Slowly, the ball of nerves raging within his stomach smoldered as he picked his head up and stared at the one looking down at him, the stars and evergreens a backdrop behind him. There were flecks of frost in his purple eyes. Matthew wanted to count them. Ivan smiled softly. “There. It is not so scary, you see?”

It wasn’t, but there was something inside of him that still trembled and wanted to look away from the eyes staring into his own. Was it curiosity or magic that burned his soul and caused his body to tremble? The invisible force was relentless as it continued to guide him toward the alpha before him, and he decided to let it take him somewhere new, and different, and… and… and…

Ivan pressed a hand to his cheek as they continued to move against the lake. He smiled and they drew to a halt, his hand still against Matthew’s cheek. He pressed his thumb against the bone, sending a bolt of icy electricity through his body. He said nothing as he leant down and pressed his cold lips to Matthew’s while the only noise Matthew gave was a surprised, ‘mmf’. Deep inside his mind, something was trying to compare this kiss to the one before it, the kiss between himself and another, but he pushed it down. Maybe it was against his better judgement, but he shoved it back into the crevice of his mind as he wrapped his arms around Ivan’s neck and kissed him back with fervor.

He wasn’t entirely sure what this kiss meant, or where it would lead, but he wanted to find out. He wanted to experience something new and passionate like this… just like this…

Behind one of the evergreens, the White Wolf stared at the figures magically standing on top of the unfrozen lake with their arms around each other and their lips connected. He turned away and headed back to the palace, and pretended not to notice the rupture in his chest.  

[patandpran]

The Nuisance and the Handsome Prince - A Sarawatine Medieval AU - Chapter 10

Tine is an aspiring Squire who has been training his whole life to work alongside the Kingdom’s finest Knights. Sarawat is a Prince who, on the outside, seems fierce and unapproachable. He is disinterested in any of his royal duties, namely his Knight training. What happens when Tine is assigned to be the fierce and handsome prince’s Squire?

Find the Masterpost here Read on Archiveofourown here.

The journey was a long and arduous one. They spent an entire day on horseback to reach their destination. Tine had never been this far from the Kingdom before and he had never seen a forest so dense. The trees reached toward the sky, standing tall like giants stretching toward the stars. It was evening by the time that the caravan came to the halt and the moon was shining down on the group of Knights, Squires, trainers and the few extra members of the court that had come along for the trip.

Tine had worried at first that the King and the Head Knight would be in attendance but there was no one above the age of thirty on the journey. He was thankful to have somewhat of a reprieve from the heavy glares of the men that had caused his family so much pain and trouble.

Throughout the whole trek to their destination, Tine had stayed close to Sarawat’s side but they had not exchanged even a word since Tine had spoken the venom that had caused the rift between them to grow even larger. As the day progressed, his anxiety about the interaction only became even more amplified but Sarawat simply ignored Tine which made it even more difficult to navigate.

Tine also noticed that Lord Mil continued to shoot him daggers with his gaze. He would have to ask Ohm to further investigate the matter as it did not seem to be getting any better. He did not want everyone in the Kingdom to hate him even before he enacted his revenge. It was not exactly a good feeling to feel iciness coming from practically every possible direction.

The stopped in a clearing where they had enough space to set up the tents for the Knights. The Squires immediately got to work and the Knights gathered around Trainer Dim to find out their first task of the journey. Dim was loud enough that his voice carried to where the Squires were putting up the tents.

“Tonight, there will be a night hunt.” Dim announced and received a symphony of grunts and groans from the Knights. Unruffled, he continued, “The Knight to come back to camp before sunrise with the biggest kill will be exempt from the next task. What is hunted will be our sustenance for the rest of the trip. Each Squire and Knight will head off on their own and return with their winnings before dawn. You may use any weapons that you wish. Do not return empty handed. And… go!”

The Knights quickly jumped into action. Ohm dashed toward Mil and Tine felt himself frozen to the spot, truly resistant to the idea of having to spend the entire evening with only Sarawat. Sir Man and Sir Boss took off into the woods with their prospective Squires dashing after them. Tine noticed Prince Phukong looking utterly lost in the frenzy but he quickly caught Tine’s gaze and nodded at him encouragingly.

“Tine!”

Sarawat’s voice pulled Tine out of his stupor and Tine saw that the Prince was already on the back of his horse. The Prince directed the horse toward Tine and before Tine could overthink it any further, Sarawat extended his arm down to Tine and Tine accepted the hand that Sarawat offered him. Sarawat pulled Tine up to sit behind him on the horse and they took off into the woods together.

Tine winced as he felt the wind whipping against his face. He was thankful that he always wore his sword on his hip as it would be helpful on the mission and reminded him of how important it was to keep focused on helping the Prince to succeed in gaining his Knighthood title.

Thanks to the adrenaline pumping through his veins, it took a few minutes for Tine to realize how close that he and Sarawat were. His hands were wrapped tightly around the Prince’s waist as they galloped through the forest. He had been this close to the Prince before but after their argument, their proximity felt even more forbidden than before. Tine decided it was best to sustain the silence that they had become so accustomed to.

Unfortunately the Prince did not seem satisfied with this routine, so he muttered, “We are going to go after whatever beast crosses our path first.”

“Whatever you want, Your Highness.” Tine murmured, wishing desperately that he could rest his chin against Sarawat’s shoulder but that was completely out of the question for so many reasons.

+++++++

“I hate to remind you of this, Lord Mil, but you have an added duty to attend to.” Ohm blurted out  as Mil contemplated what weapon to take on the Night hunt.

Mil straightened up, wielding his most favoured sword that his father had given him. He sheathed it and turned to his Squire, unsure as to what he was saying. Mil looked beyond Ohm and saw Tine and Prince Sarawat taking off on horseback. He instinctively went to pull out his sword and pursue them, a protective urge flowing through him but they were long gone before he would be able to make up the distance, if was even able to track them at all.

“My Lord, are we going to bring Prince Phukong on the hunt with us?” Ohm inquired urgently as he saw how distracted Mil was and noticed Phukong approaching them with an expectant look in his eyes.

“Shall I accompany you on the hunt then?” Phukong asked, looking between Ohm and Mil.

“We will have to find an alternative arrangement for your protection for the evening. We can’t have you slowing us down.” Mil answered in such a blunt tone that it made even Ohm wince.

Phukong looked as if he had been slapped across the face by Mil’s words and Ohm could not help but feel very sorry for the Prince. Ohm wondered if Mil had any idea about what Phukong felt for him or if he was truly oblivious to the admiration that Phukong resonated whenever he was in the Lord’s proximity.

Without batting an eye or noticing Phukong’s hurt reaction, Mil ran over to where the Hawks were gathered. Chat was in the middle of restringing his bow when he looked up to see Mil hovering above him.

“You’re going to ask me to babysit the younger Prince, aren’t you?” Chat asked dryly.

“I can’t risk him getting hurt on the Hunt.” Mil explained urgently. “You know the King would have my head if he returns from this trip with even a scratch on his face.”

Chat cocked his head to the side, “I don’t think you want his pretty face getting scratched either. Do you, Lord Mil?”

“Chat.” Mil hissed as a warning.

Chat rolled his eyes at his friend and simply muttered, “Send him over and I will teach him a few things about archery. I’m sure it won’t be as interesting as the hunt and he would obviously much rather be spending his time with you.”

“I am not going to entertain that thought for another second.” Mil responded, his brow furrowed. “If he gets hurt while I am gone…”

“You will have my head.” Chat answered with a smirk. “I get it. I might suggest that you stop treating the Prince like a damsel in distress, though. I think he is capable of more than you think.”

“If only your words were as sharp as your aim.” Mil stated and stalked off before Chat could say another word.

As he came back to Ohm and Phukong, Mil noticed that Ohm seemed to be consoling the Prince about something. Mil did not have time to give it a second thought though and shared, “My Prince, you will be watched over by the Hawks for the remainder of the evening. Please try to stay out of trouble.”

“I can’t make any promises, My Lord.” Phukong stated coldly before walking toward Chat and the rest of the Hawks.

Mil was taken aback by Phukong’s short reaction but did not have time to dwell on it any further. Ohm gave him somewhat of a sympathetic look before they took off into the forest on foot, ready to claim their prize.

+++++++

Sarawat abruptly pulled on the reins and brought them to an immediate halt. Tine felt his heart begin to race and wondered if Sarawat had spotted prey so soon. Tine had been so distracted by how close he was to Sarawat that he had not even bothered to look for anything in the trees.

The Prince slid off his horse and Tine wondered if he was meant to follow suit. It worried Tine that Sarawat was not wearing any sort of protective armour for the hunt but he quickly jumped down to join the Prince on the ground. Tine zeroed in on Sarawat and relied on the moonlight to decipher what Sarawat was doing as the Prince was giving his no verbal instruction.

As soon as his boots hit the ground, Tine pulled his sword from its sheath to make sure he was ready to face any beast that came his way. Tine knew that Sarawat had faced a wolf before but Tine had little to no experience facing anything besides another human being in combat. Humans were much more predictable than animals so the thought of facing off with an unknown animal was not exactly a preferable experience for Tine.

Tine followed after the Prince and Tine felt sick to his stomach when he saw the yellow eyes of a creature shining in the distance. Sarawat reached toward Tine, grabbing onto Tine’s wrist and whispered, “Be still, Tine.”

Tine felt his chest tighten with anticipation and wondered exactly what they were after. He felt the hair on the back of his neck rise and was thankful for the comfort that Sarawat’s presence brought him. The exhaustion from the day’s journey was beginning to settle in and he could feel his vision starting to blur. It made Tine wonder if this all was just some extended awful dream and if he would wake up to Fong presenting him with a tray of delicious breakfast.

“Wat, I…”

Sarawat ran away from him and raised his sword as if it were completely second nature. The moonlight danced off of the Prince’s hair and he brought the sword down in a swift and clean fashion. The beast squealed and Tine winced at the awful sound that it let out.

“Tine, come here.” The Prince ordered and Tine felt his stomach flip over as he began his approach.

Tine saw the outline of the deceased creature and his nose automatically wrinkled in response. Tine saw that it was a small hog and wondered why the Prince had so hastily chosen his prey when he had claimed that he wanted to win only moments before.

“I do not want to question your judgement but I believe that we could have found more impressive game.” Tine murmured, as he began to inspect the specimen that the Prince had chosen. “I doubt this will have us at the top of the competition.”

Sarawat turned toward Tine and a grin spread across the Prince’s face. “You’re going to come with me. You’re not going to resist and you’re going to pretend that you enjoy my company. Understood?”

Tine did not know how to interpret any part of what Sarawat was saying to him. But before he could voice his confusion, the Prince was dragging him deeper into the woods, away from the Prince’s horse and their kill. Tine’s mind felt numb and he wondered if they had stepped outside of reality when they had entered the woods.

Sarawat was wearing a simple black shirt that made him look more like a commoner than someone who belonged inside the castle walls. The visual made Tine’s mind reel and recall the first time that he had met the Prince and had mistaken him for just another young man in the village who he had not met before.  

Tine hated to admit how beautiful the Prince was but he allowed himself the room to bask in the experience of watching Sarawat walk through the shadows of the trees.

Sarawat turned quickly and stated, “I will remind you, once again, of how little I appreciate you calling me ‘Your Highness’.”

Tine got a sour taste in his mouth. He felt both guilty and unsure of how to react. He started to back away and murmured, “Should we not collect the beast and return to camp? I am sure the swift timing of the kill will be put into account when Dim makes his final judgment.”

“You keep trying to avoid this.” The Prince released his grip on Tine but continued to walk toward him, ignoring Tine’s comment.

Tine’s back came into contact with a tree trunk and Sarawat closed the distance between them, one hand on each side of Tine, as if to trap him in place. It was as if Tine had been the prey that Prince had been after all along.

“Wat…” Tine pressed his hands against the soft fabric of the Prince’s shirt, desperate to create more space between them.

Tine shut his eyes, trying to block out the reality of the tension that was thick in the air. It reminded him of what had happened in the East Tower and his cheeks became flushed at the memory.

“Tine…Open your eyes.” Sarawat ordered in a gentle tone.

As much as he wanted to resist the Prince’s words, he also found himself unable to disobey them. When he opened his eyes, his saw the reflection of the moon in Sarawat’s lupine eyes and Tine’s breath hitched at the visual.

“We can’t.”

The words were beyond Tine’s lips before he could stop them. He could feel Sarawat tense at them and the spell of the moment was broken. The Prince pushed off of the tree and swiftly turned away from Tine as Tine felt a rush of disappointment flow through him.

“I know.” Sarawat murmured and the admission felt like a stab to Tine’s gut. The Prince continued, “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself. It’s harder when we’re alone like this to pretend like there is nothing between us other than professional duty.”

Sarawat’s acknowledgement of the depth of their connection alleviated some of the pain that Tine was experiencing but did not make the situation any less dire. They only had to keep their composure for three more weeks and then they could part ways. It would be much easier to deny that there had ever been anything between them when they weren’t forced to constantly be near each other.

Tine stepped away from the tree and tried to slow the pace of his racing heart. He swallowed slowly, “I’m sorry too. I did not mean what I said this morning. I did not mean to imply that you don’t care about people like me.”

This statement caused Sarawat to face Tine once again. It was easy to see the distress in the Prince’s eyes and Tine wished there was something - anything - he could to help take some of it away. He had no power to do so, though, when he was the source of the Prince’s pain.

“Every single person in this Kingdom is integral.” Sarawat explained, his words thick with passion. “I hate that there are systems in place that makes any person feel less than they should. I want to abolish those… I will abolish them when I am King.”

Tine nodded, believing Sarawat’s words but still feeling the pull of his familial duty. It did not matter if there was a future where things would be different, Tine still needed to avenge what the Kingdom did to to his family.

“Wat, we should get back…” Tine shared in a small tone.

“No.” Sarawat answered, his voice anxious. He quickly approached Tine again and took Tine’s hands in his. “Let’s just…. we can just stay here for a few more minutes. We have time…. Please.”

The fact that the Prince was begging a Commoner was too ridiculous of a situation for Tine to wrap his head around. The thought caused a smile to pull at his lips and the sight made the Prince pout in reaction. In a moment of reckless abandon, Tine pulled Sarawat toward him into a tight embrace, his arms wound tightly around the Prince.

Sarawat let out a small sigh of surprise and the sound was music to Tine’s ears. Tine could feel Sarawat’s heart racing as their chests were pressed so closely together. They remained like this for a few moments before Sarawat pulled away from Tine, an unreadable look in his eyes.

Before he could register what was happening, Tine felt his back hit the ground and the Prince was on top of him, staring down at him with hunger in his eyes. Adrenaline was pumping through his veins enough that Tine did not even feel the pain of hitting the forest floor. He was much too focused on trying to anticipate what the Prince would do next.

“How are you so beautiful?”

Tine had never been asked a question like this and before he could even formulate a possible response to Sarawat’s question, the Prince’s lips were pressed against his, quieting every thought that had been previously flowing through Tine’s mind.

Tine felt himself momentarily still before his instincts took over and he deepened the kiss. Sarawat seemed to enjoy the guidance and Tine pulled him down so their chest were flush against one another. Tine’s head swam with the reality that he, a Commoner, was kissing the future King. It somehow made the kiss even more exhilarating.

“Remember who you are.”

The words rung out loud and clear in Tine’s mind and they instantly made him freeze. This was not part of his mission. He could not be distracted by such things. It would only lead to more hurt for both of them in the long run. He abruptly maneuvered his hands to push Sarawat away and rolled out from beneath the Prince.

Tine scrambled to his feet and took off into the forest, unsure of where he was going to go but knowing that he just needed to make an escape. He did not look back out of fear that seeing the look of hurt on Sarawat’s face would pull him back into the Prince’s arms.

“Tine! Come back, please!”

Sarawat’s desperate cry made Tine’s path waver but he had to keep going. There was no turning back. It had to stop. He needed to get as far away from Sarawat as possible. Tine ran until his feet could no longer hold him. He wanted to go home. He needed to get away from all this. It was too much for his heart and head to handle. His duty to his family outweighed his feelings, they had to.

When he was sure he had made it far enough, he ran even farther. He would likely be punished for abandoning his post but, at this point, he would gladly take whatever consequences came his way.

Tine finally collapsed against a tree trunk which seemed like a suitable enough resting place, given the limited choices he had. It was still dark when he finally was able to shut his eyes and fall into a restless sleep.

++++

Tine woke to a sword pointed at his face and a foot on his chest.

[nomolosk]

Snapshots (AU Yeah August 2020)

read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25655623/chapters/62576269

Day 7- Royalty

Prince Adrien walked down the main street of the marketplace, perusing the wares. It was one of the King’s orders that he go and observe the populace on a regular basis, to be the Face of the Crown, as it were. So here he was, wandering among the common folk, though with a regrettable bevy of courtiers as a shield. 

He would much rather have donned his disguise as Chat Noir, that infamous mischievous cat, and drawn attention that way. As Prince he could not joke and laugh with anyone, especially not that pretty maid tending a cloth-merchant’s stall. Some simple shirts were on display, although there was also a very nice embroidered tunic laced onto a dummy. 

Having caught his eye, Adrien decided to make that his excuse to go over and attempt a conversation. But as he drew nearer he realized that self-same pretty maid might have a grudge against him. He had inadvertently caused her trouble the previous night, when there had been a mistake made on who had rights to occupy a certain room in an Inn. Naturally, given his status, the Landlord’s wife had deemed his claim superior and had thrown the maid out, though she had paid for the room in good coin. 

Prince Adrien really had tried to make amends, but the girl had been- he felt- rightfully incensed. As he approached her stall now, he cursed the presence of his courtiers doubly, for he could not make an apology for the inconvenience in public like this without listening ears turning the affair into something it really was not. She clearly recognized him, though the anger on her face turned to mortification as she took in his rich raiment, and the crest embroidered on his left shoulder. He had been wearing traveling clothes the other evening, and so she probably mistook him for a rich merchant or some such. 

The maid fell into a deep, surprisingly graceful curtsey as he came within polite speaking distance, and his mental estimation of her class rose a few notches. This was not some simple maiden, but probably the daughter of a well-to-do middle class man. She’d had some education, at any rate. He felt worse, thinking he’d deprived a truly innocent maid of a respectable lodging the night before.

Well, perhaps he could start to make amends by ordering some new uniform tunics for the members of his personal household staff. The tunic on display was made of sturdy cloth, though not particularly fine. He would have to order a better quality, but that, too, would raise the prestige of the establishment she worked for, and the embroidery was really very well done. He knew some court ladies who could not do better, and most did much worse and called it elegant.

“This tunic,” Prince Adrien said, “Is it typical of the quality of work you produce?”

The maid nodded slowly. “Yes, your highness. Papa sells the cloth, but I do the sewing and embroidery.” Her face flushed again. “The cloth I have here is not as fine as what we can get, my lord. We have a f-family connection that provides us with silk and fine linen at very reasonable cost.”

Prince Adrien’s eyebrows rose, and he noticed the slight stutter on the words ‘family connection.’ He took in her rather unusual features- the shape of her eyes was particularly telling, though her coloring was common enough, with black hair, blue eyes, and a rosy complexion.

“Thank you,” he replied politely, passing over her probable parentage. He himself had no objection to mixed marriages, though there were very vehement voices in the court which called them unnatural, and the offspring thereof worse than cursed. He himself refused to entertain such notions. “What colors can you get? I am thinking of new tunics for my personal household, separate from that of the King.”

Still blushing, the maid brought forth a rather ingenious little book, in which there were pieces of cloth cut into squares. The book itself was made of thick canvas, and on each ‘page’ were a rainbow of colors. Each square of cloth was stitched to the page along the top edge, leaving the bottom and sides free to overlap with other squares beneath it. He quickly caught on to the rules of the book- each page had one type of fabric, and all the colors they could procure for that type.

Adrien found himself genuinely smiling. “This is ingenious! Look, Bourgeois, here are all one kind of fabric and you may even feel the texture and examine the color if you wish. Remarkable! I have not seen the like before.”

“It’s not all that remarkable,” the maid murmured under her breath, clearly thinking he could not hear her, since she left off the honorific. The Prince’s grin widened. There were so few people willing to be cheeky in his presence...

“Very well. Here are my house colors,” he said, pointing to squares of blue and ivory in fine linen. “I should wish to order six tunics of fine linen, various sizes, in cloth of blue, with my personal crest in ivory on the left breast.”

“I- I shall need to take measurements, your highness,” the maid said. She still blushed, but did her best to stand tall and speak clearly. He liked that about her. And if her work proved to be as exceptional as he thought it would be, perhaps he might engage her as his personal seamstress. There was something about her… a resemblance he was hard put to it to name. But now was not the time for dallying, and he did not wish to call further attention to her and cause unwelcome speculation. Perhaps the elusive and mysterious Coccinelle could help him navigate her hire without causing gossip the next time they ran into each other on their nightly excursions.

“Of course. Give your name to Captain Raincomprix here, and he will let the gate-guards know to pass you through. Come tomorrow, if you will.”

She curtsied very deeply, and he nodded in acknowledgment before turning away, knowing that Raincomprix would get all the information he required. His attention was caught by another woman staring at the scene before her with a strange kind of intensity. Her hair was coiffed, and she wore the clothes of a respectable matron, but her eyes were strange. He was sure he had never seen anyone with eyes of that color before.

He frowned at her, and instead of lowering her eyes and perhaps dropping a curtsey in apology, she smiled. A pulse of… something… suddenly emanated from her, passing silently over the marketplace and everything in it. Prince Adrien stiffened as it passed over him as well…

----

Adrien moved on from MDC’s booth, happy that he had been able to clear up any misunderstandings caused by the truly awful manager. He was interested in Miss Dupain-Cheng’s designs as well, and intended to bring them to his father’s attention. It was odd, though… it was almost like he should know her, but he couldn’t think of where he’d seen her before. Then it hit him- the cafe! She was the cute waitress from the cafe! 

Adrien had nominally attached himself to Mayor Bourgeois' train, since they’d arrived at the same time. It made him stick out less. Yet, he abandoned that now, wheeling away and back toward her booth without a second thought.

Miss Dupain-Cheng looked startled at his quick return, but gave him a much more genuine smile than the one he’d first received. 

“You’re that waitress!” Adrien blurted out. “You work at that cafe on --th Street, right? That’s where I’ve seen you before!” He grinned at her, delighted with finally being able to place where he knew her from, and completely forgetting that they’d had the most awkward encounter only the day before. Capped by him falling on top of her while she slept last night.

She flushed slightly, but stood her ground. “I do, yes.”

“But why? These designs are really good.”

“My work is mostly commission, and commissions can be… unreliable. I work part-time at the cafe to build up an emergency fund- not that it’s any of your business.”

Adrien nodded. “Ah, I see. Very smart! Well…” he grinned cheekily. “You had me convinced earlier, but this just clinches it… consider me a regular from now on!”

----

Neither of them noticed the woman at the wholesale herb and spice booth across the way, though she eyed them narrowly while she sniffed a vial of oregano. The woman was getting frustrated and impatient. She was an avid reader, who longed to truly experience some of the alternate universes she read about. Real life was so comparably dull… Hawkmoth had indulged her when she got frustrated once again at the banality of her life. But of course, she wasn’t here just to play around. Her task was to change reality to see who would always be drawn together. She could feel the magnetism between these two, yet they acted like they had no notion of anything relating to fighting akumas, or superhero identities. 

She shook her head and moved on. Paris was a big city, and she felt pulls from others as well. All things being equal, the attraction these two created wasn’t any bigger or stronger than anyone else’s. And surely Ladybug and Chat Noir would have the strongest pull of them all.

@auyeahaugust

[voronyaro]

Úveluie the Exile

Lothlorien, Caras Galadhon, T.A. 3011

The lilt of a gentle voice reciting sweet and chaste poetry filtered through the glade and harmonised with the sigh of wind passing through golden leaves. Istarien delighted to read her own work, even if the confidence to do so often eluded her. Still, Luidhros’ request for a performance was more than enough encouragement for such a kind afternoon.

Broad shoulders, a tall and powerful frame, dark hair, Luidhros was Noldo in all but personality. He had his eyes closed to better appreciate her verse, which allowed her to take a little guilty enjoyment in the sight he presented. Unfortunately, it was not to be for long.

“Good Eve Luidhros, ah! And Istarien! Well met.” Húrien strode over, all high bearing and knowing smiles, slotting seamlessly between them as Luidhros came out of his reverie.

“Well met, Húrien.” He hummed with a rye smile, “I would ask after you, but something tells me you have a tale you are eager to tell.” And by the way the Scholar’s eyes flashed in the starlight, Istarien had to agree. With a sense of finality, she tucked her poetry back into it’s pouch and settled in for what new piece of gossip their old friend had to offer, even though it may have cut her recital short. Húrien could always be relied upon for entertaining topics.

“Ah, bless you Luidhros, you know me so well. For, did you hear? Úveluie has returned to the Golden Wood!” Istarien wrinkled her nose at the cruel name but her head still tilted curiously. She had heard the name mentioned before but had never known whom it referred too. A glance to Luidhros told her he was also at a loss.

Húrien huffed, perhaps silently berating herself, “Oh, of course, our dear Istarien and well-mannered Luidhros would not know her as such. The ah-.” She pondered a moment, trying to recall the title, tutting at herself as it eluded her. “What a dreadful mark upon my scholarly art, but I have not spoken Quenya for a yeni and more… Mm… Arcaumaro! The Arcaumaro. You must know of her Luidhros?”

Her assumption certainly appeared correct, if the shift in the ellon’s expression was any judge. Istarien could not remember seeing the Noldo appear quite so… taken off guard. Curious, yet cautious. “I do. Though I cannot claim her acquaintance.”

“But you know enough, I deem, to understand why she is known as Úveluie best?” Húrien asked with a smirk. Luidhros apparently could not quite stall a small huff of amusement before nodding his head. Istarien was about to ask why, but she found herself interrupted a second time as the powerful voice of Pethbes entered the fray.

“Úveluie? Do my ears deceive me? She cannot be back.” The practical and tidy cook said as she approached them.

“And yet I swear upon my heart she is, dear Pethbes! I first heard it from Lathron yesterday, but this morning I recognised her myself!”

From the tone of her voice one could easily tell that Húrien was deeply enjoying herself. However, she was an excellent storyteller so it was easy to forgive her gossiping habits.

Pethbes, as usual, did not see much fun in the telling. Her expression was highly disapproving as she spoke. “Have the Marchwardens been informed? I cannot imagine Lord Celeborn would allow her to set foot upon even one Golden leaf, let alone roam the city unattended.”

Luidhros spoke up, “I was not made aware of her, but there have been no warnings of trespassing either. She must have been permitted entrance into Caras Galadhon.” His tone was gentle and deep as ever, but he held a curious expression

“Can we be in such need of martial might?” Húrien asked.

“Mirkwood grows darker every day. And Lord Celeborn is by far wise enough to forgive past transgressions for the sake of War.” Luidhros replied.

“How much worth can one Soldier have Luidhros? She cannot be that impressive, I did not even know her as a warrior.” Pethbes griped, waving her hand dismissively.

Luidhros’ reply was grave, “Then the tale has suffered in the telling. i arben na Aran, as you would call her, did not stand at the High-King’s side for nothing.”

Pethbes’ eyes widened a moment, before her scowl deepened once again. “You cannot mean to say Úveluie, with her infamous reputation, was once a member of High King Gil-Galad’s court.”

Luidhros could only nod, and this shocking revelation stunned Pethbes into silence. Finally, Istarien felt she had a moment for her question.

“What did this Úveluie do to garner such infamy?” The youngest there, Istarien was used to the slightly patronising glances that her question earned. But she knew her companions would answer her eventually and so bore them without comment.

“Ah, how rude of us, of course you do not know.” Húrien’s expression was apologetic enough to be sincere but Pethbes immediately took it upon herself to give an answer.

“Though there was a time when she was welcome in Lothlorien, Úveluie has never been kind or pleasant. Always loud, rude, never satisfied to let a disagreement rest and ungrateful for the hospitality she was shown here. She is ill made both inside and out! I do not know how the High-King can have stood for her disrespect.”

Seeing that Pethbes was about to slip off track, (and very eager to continue the tale herself), Húrien took over quickly. “Her banishment came after a dreadful audience with our Lord and Lady. No one knows for certain what was said, only that the Lady Galadriel suffered such a grievous insult that the Lord drew his sword before recovering his temper and ordering her gone!”

Istarien’s eyes were wide as the tale was told. Though she had no true personal experience, all knew the Lord Celeborn to be wise and thoughtful. Calm in the face of every storm. It was difficult to even imagine what mere words could have stirred his ire. “If that is so then how can the March Wardens have allowed her within?”

Luidhros, after being quiet for a moment, finally replied. “Now that I have given it more thought, it is possible- even likely- that many of our younger warriors would not know her face to refuse it. Her exile was not recent, after all. Not even by our reckoning.”

Húrien gasped in what might have been distress but was far more likely to be thrill. “Could that not mean the Lord and Lady are unaware of her presence here?”

With that, Luidhros rose from his seat, reaching his towering height over all of them. “If that is the case, it will not be for long. I fear I must excuse myself and see to this. Thank you again for your indulgence Istarien. I will have to beg you finish it for me another time.” Istarien could only blush and nod before the Noldo was up and gone away, leaving their little gathering quieter in thought.

“… If she can have been so cruel to someone as kind and beloved as the Lady Galadriel, I certainly am discomforted to think this Úveluie walks among us…” Istarien eventually murmured quietly. But Húrien was quick to comfort her. “Foul and loathsome she may be. But if you encountered her you would only be in danger of an unpleasant conversation, nothing more. We are as safe as always Istarien.” Her smile was confidence and brightness itself. But Pethbes was not convinced.

“To that, dear Húrien, I ask simply this. How could you know? When we do not even recall her true name?”

To her credit, Húrien did not pretend to have an answer.

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

Up upon her toes, fingers straining as high as they could go, the parchment still fluttered just out of Istarien’s reach. A little mischievous breeze plucked at it tauntingly, threatening to pull her poetry from the lamp it had been caught in if she did not act fast. Her brow was furrowed with the deepest concentration and she worried her bottom lip as the very tip of her nail grazed the edge of her quarry.

A sudden gust made her gasp and flail, accidentally batting the poem which broke free without warning. She gave a cry of frustration and spun to give desperate chase, but in blindly spinning she ran herself headfirst into a solid, immovable tree.

Well, she first assumed it to be a tree, the collision so jarring that it quite took her off her feet. She could have sworn a tree had not been there before! Not the most graceful of the Eldar beneath the eaves of Lothlorien, to be sure.

However, after giving a small whine of pain and gingerly searching her head for damage, she opened her eyes to look up at her obstacle.

The elf that looked down at her was possibly the tallest she had ever seen, even taller than Luidhros though Istarien had no notion of that being possible. Her nose would barely reach their chest! Their shoulders were so wide, features so sharp and graceless, that it took her a long moment to recognise them as an elleth at all. Indeed, if any elf could be called ill-made or unbeautiful, it would be this one. Istarien had to stifle an urge to shrink away when her gaze found the twisting scar that pulled gruesomely at their right eye. 

Still, all of that flew from her mind the moment she noticed the parchment this stranger had caught between their fingers.

Istarien flew to her feet with a small noise of delight and relief and her eyes were bright with gratitude as her poetry was handed back to her. “Ah, my sincerest thanks! I had thought to never see it again!” She exclaimed as she ensured none of the ink had run before glancing back to her saviour.

This quendi looked stranger and more unusual by the moment. Up on her feet, Istarien had a better view of the dull, rough-spun cloth and leather shirt she wore, the in-elegant pauldrons upon her corded shoulders. A far cry from the soft and virgin or gold linens and robes of Caras Galadhon. Her hair was a dull and uninspiring flaxen colour, braided resolutely away into a long rope behind her. And, oh, Istarien had not noticed the sheer musculature of her until now. The Stranger’s forearms were so thick it seemed she could have uprooted a mallorn with just her bare hands alone. Not an ounce of femininity to her, she looked utterly foreign.

The Stranger had a quirk to her lips as she silently dipped her head in acknowledgement of Istarien’s thanks, which was when the strangest and most unsettling part of her appearance was shown.

Soft lines spiderwebbed their way about her eyes, creased over her mouth and framed the sharp jut of her nose. Lines of age. That wasn’t right, that shouldn’t be. If not for her shear size, the touch of elegance to her frame and the long ears that tapered to an unmistakable point, Istarien would have easily mistaken her for one of the second born.

And yet, though she unsettled her deeply, there was some… strange pull to her. A heady throb to her presence, just noticeable at the edge of Istarien’s consciousness. It was wholly unlike the Lady Galadriel’s divine and otherworldly aura, this was primal and earthen and quiet. To a poet’s mind, it was like comparing the dreamy and powerful pull of moonlight to the thick yet subtle scent of a thunder storm.

She blushed when she realised she was staring.

The stranger only seemed to find this passingly amusing and was about to leave when Istarien stammered out, “A-ah, please! Allow me to thank you properly! You are a newcomer to Caras Galadhon yes? Let me…” 

And, all at once, the disparate deductions of her mind finally spooled all the pieces of this puzzle together. Her eyes widened, and she felt a second, more fearful thrill run up her spine.

“No need.” Úveluie said, her accent in sindarin so odd it was almost difficult to comprehend. “This is not my first visit to the Golden Wood.”

“Úveluie…” Istarien whispered, the ugly nickname leaving her lips before she could reclaim her composure. And yet the slip still confirmed her suspicion. Úveluie’s natural smile turned to a darker pall and her back straightened to her full, intimidating height. A peerless warrior, Luidhros had said. Cruel and ill-made inside and out, Pethbes had said.

“Rumor spreads even faster than I remember beneath the mallorn’s leaves.” Her words were bitter, though they held a hint of amusement, and the suddenly harsh edge made Istarien flinch.

“The March Wardens will be told!” She blurted out, without truly knowing why. An abrupt sense of vulnerability had stricken her, something about the eerie shift in this elleth’s manner giving Istarien fright.

Úveluie seemed unphased, though her head tilted with a predatory-like curiosity. “I should hope they already have been…” Her pause was small, but her eyes were so piercing it gave an unsettling sense of invasion. “Why do you tremble?” She asked finally. “Has my reputation grown so dreadful?”

Istarien hadn’t noticed the slight tremor in her fingers until this moment, the parchment in her hands gently fluttering in her grasp. Her grip tightened to still it, her pride demanding that she be brave.

“You do not belong here, you break our Lord’s law by crossing the border of Lothlorien.” She was grateful that her voice was stable, some well of strength giving her the courage she needed.

“I cannot be blamed if the sentries have short memories.” Úveluie replied dismissively. “And besides, I am only here for the sake of a friend.”

“Then they will soon miss you!” Istarien countered, “Captain Luidhros already pursues you, he will surely-“

“Who?”

Istarien stalled at the query. Her tone was so… bored. So dismissive. Luidhros was a Noldo, a war hero, an honoured Captain among the Galladhrim. The fact that someone who had spent time in Lothlorien did not possess even a passing memory of him, showed him such disrespect, Istarien was utterly thrown. Anger and insult boiled in her eyes but for once she was voiceless to express it.

Úveluie seemed to recognise her ire, though she did not appear regretful. “No matter. I am thoroughly discovered it seems. Thank you for the warning.”

She had the nerve to dip at the waist before she turned to leave, an insulting play at gratitude and farewell. Istarien found she could not restrain herself any longer. An ugly part of her rose to meet this challenge and she nearly spat her next words.

“I hope you rot in exile!”

There was a pregnant pause. Úveluie ground to a full stop, holding herself eerily still for a moment before slowly turning back. The look in her eyes was truly, deeply discomforting. As was the bitter and vile tone in her voice as she replied. “Verily! Whilst you seem content to rot here.”

“Excuse me?!” Istarien cried, outraged.

Suddenly, and in a motion that almost defied sight, yet also seemed no more than a casual reach, Úveluie plucked the page of poetry from Istarien’s hands. “This?” She scoffed as she glanced over her verses, the Poet still looking from her hand to the page in bewilderment. “Another wistful ballad of chaste love beneath yellow trees? How original.”

The sarcasm dripped from her tongue and Istarien uttered an indignant, “How dare-!” before she was interrupted.

“-Here you compare sweat on your brow to the morning dew, that must have pushed your literary talents.”

Istarien gritted her teeth and made to snatch the page back but Úveluie, in an act of utter pettiness, simply held it out of her reach. She flushed an angry red at being forced to play into such a childish act. Stars above, she could not remember ever being so furious. Úveluie just smirked.

“They were right about you,” Istarien declared, “you are cruel and ill-made, inside and out!”

Úveluie seemed to take wicked satisfaction in her fury. “Were they now?”

“Yes! Perhaps if you listened, you might learn to be less foul! Though I doubt you capable!”

“And perhaps if you set foot outside these borders you could write poetry with even a shred of originality. I know you are capable, but I still doubt you ever will.” And, with that, Úveluie released the page from her grip.

By the time Istarien had caught it out of the air her new and detestable acquaintance had left. As mortifying tears pricked at her eyes, she found she had no wish to follow her.

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

Translations;

i arben na Aran - (Sindarin) Knight of the King Arcaumaro - (Quenya) Protector of the King Úveluie - (Sindarin) Not amiable, an unloveable person.

[jamiebluewind]

Character Descriptions for Fantasy High 2.9!

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As always, let me know if I need to edit or add anything and tag/ask/PM me about art and stories so I can check them out!

Warning: trauma, abuse, mental abuse, neglect, starvation, manipulation, memory loss mention, dark themes, isolation, imprisonment, fantasy racism, vomit mention (please let me know if I missed any)

All pronounciations typed out have a rolled R.

***

Facts

The party is currently at 44,100 exp. each. Next level is at 48,000 (which will probably take 3 more big battles, 2 if Brennan is super generous with RP awards).

Abernant family had all their land and wealth reclaimed by The Court of Stars for their treachery and failure to prevent a war with Solace. Elianwyn committed treason and betrayal as well.

To save Adaine, the group decided to break up into 3 teams: Pylon 1 (Ragh, Tracker, Cathilda, and Sandra Lynn), Pylon 2 (Gorgug, Fabian, and Riz), and Recovery (Ayda, Fig, and Kristen). Team 1 and 2 would simultaneously take out the pylons. Then, the recovery team would go in (invisible and/or disguised) and gets Adaine and Aelwyn. They would all meet back at Van where they would most likely use Ayda's teleport to leave Fallinel (or regroup to plan their next move).

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New Characters

Tell-ah-mine Low-men-el-da

Fabian's grandpapa

Tall elf with regal green robes, a silver circlet, long platinum white blond hair with a widows peak, and shimmering blue eyes

Crinkle in the corners of his eyes shows his age in sort of an Elrond way. He look of a dude in his late 40s/early 50s who took excellent care of his body and kept it tight

Moves with supernatural grace

Can turn into silver sand and float away

Has no concept of what time means

Obsessed with the fact that his grandson will die before him (Your human blood has brought mortality to this family. You will one day die.)

Offers to send word to an elf who is a fabled eye smith who lives on the high mountains at the heart of Fallinel that can craft a working eye (from songs, whispers, beams of moonlight, jeweled edges of the blue of the sea, and shimmering poems pulled from the ether itself) for Fabian, but has no clue how long it will take (a moment, a year, or a hundred years).

Can't pronounce words in common very well, especially words he's never heard before (which delights Fabian and pisses off Gorgug)

Calls Fabian Aramais Seacaster fa-bee-ahn ah-rye-ah-my-ess Seacaster (which might actually be the proper pronouncations of his name in that region as "Seacaster" was said correctly and that's how all the other elves say his name as well) and calls Hallariel ha-lair-ee-el

Weeps without moving his face, but also sometimes makes a soft eeehhhh sound when he cries (at one point he cried over a drop of water)

Gifted stewardship of Khy-low Meh-new-rah 3000 years ago after he crafted The Sword of the North Star (he was the smith of fung-dran-ghoor) for the ancient king of Fallinel Th-wrist-win Eversong.

"Without the Elven Oracle, we are lost."

Saw the Abernants as power hungry and cruel and can't understand why they would leave Fallinel. He found Anguin in particular to be a crass and small man with no nobility, only a thirst for power.

Thinks Riz has a harsh energy, is "a little dick", and calls him "a strange green mouse thing"

Got physically ill when a gun was explained to him, calling it gross and some dwarven kind of thing before vomiting which he turns into a flock of white crows

Vhan-lair-ee-el

Fabian's aunt

Tried to heal Fabian's pneumonia with elvan singing

Said "I have failed" when her singing doesn't work before she fades into starlight and vanishes

Hal-door-in and [unnamed youth]

Elven teens in white linen shorts arguing because [unnamed] believes Hal-door-in took his lute.

Calmed by a distant song which stopped their fight.

Faf-threth-riel

Lithe elven youth (around 17 or 18 years old) with a blond mop of hair covering one eye

Bakes elven whey bread

Lived a sheltered life

Ragh was the first half-orc he met

Mostly into Ragh due to Ragh being half orc, excessively talking about his green skin (like the boughs of a tree leafy, my leafy man), being big and beefy (your legs are like the mighty trunks of trees), was really into rage (like when Ragh punched a seat cushion) to the point of it making Ragh uncomfortable

Sang in bed

Treth-thren-ren

Elven youth who does morning dance yoga

Tried to get Fabian to eat a grape

Oak Warriors

Elemental plant based automaton soldiers made of pure magic

Look like 8 foot tall green men with leaves coming from their faces

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Changes to Established Characters

Aelwyn

Matted long blond hair

Dry skin, chapped colorless lips, and thick bags under her eyes

Severely dehydrated and trance deprived (probably hasn't been allowed to trance for nearly a year)

5 points of exhaustion. Only magic is keeping her from going to the 6th level and dying.

Her "room" is a large large beautiful elven chamber with silver and marble. Ambiant light glows from the white stone.

Trapped inside a 15 foot diameter orb that's constantly turning so she can't trance

Crawling on hands and knees while trapped, shaking with the effort

Doesn't give Adaine up to Kear

Can still remember how to cast the message cantrip

Feels strange and addled (unable to think clearly; confused), can't remember what's real or imagined anymore, doesn't clearly remember what happened in her past (including what she did to get imprisoned), and forgets what she and Adaine have already talked about (causing a lot of reputation).

Thinks her parents "tried their best they could" and that "they expected quite a lot of us, but isn't that what- doesn't that... didn't that make us great?" (possibly due to something her father said or did since her imprisonment as it echoes a few things he's said)

Gilear

Looks scruffy (from not shaving), dirty, and has pit stains

Somehow didn't mess up being diplomatic with Fabian's grandpapa

Unbuttons the top button on his shirt when he "lets loose"

To Fig about Sandra Lynn and Garthy: Are you aware of such... hanky panky?

Learning of Sandra Lynn's infidelity with Garthy "Honestly? Perhaps this is... fucked up. It makes me feel... like there wasn't something uniquely wrong with me. Maybe a tiny little w for Gilear."

Spent the night walking through the forest with Hallariel's father, reciting poetry (badly)

To Fabian after Hallariel's father threw up "You're low and he's low. It's Gilear's day baby! It's Gilear's day."

Tried to ask Hallariel's father for her hand, but even though Fig gave him bardic inspiration and Riz helped by covering Fabian's mouth, he failed... so much. ("Lord Tell-ah-mine of Khy-low Meh-new-rah I like you am-" *makes himself throw up* "We get it. We both get it. We... We're the throw up boys." *passes out*)

Ayda

Hid in the van the entire visit

Might have rejection sensitive dysphoria (which is common in those with autism or ADHD)

Did a sending spell to Zelda for Gorgug for 150 gold (after reminding him that she very much does not like anyone in her debt or visa versa)

Offered to exact vengeance on Zelda for Gorgug

Is powerful enough to know teleport and learn plane shift (so level 13 or higher)

Stated that Adaine is her best friend and decides that since Fig is also Adaine's best friend, by the transitive property she is best friends with Fig as well (and Fig agreed). Learning this, she says "Fantastic. I grow richer by the day. I'm emotional." before starting to cry fire "I'm emotional. I'm gonna fly away." She then flew away, returning after she had calmed down.

Ragh

Ate grapes and started burping musical notes after he left Khy-low Meh-new-rah.

Lost his virginity to Faf-threth-riel who then got creepy and kinda racist, making Ragh very uncomfortable (and want to get out of there asap)

Fabian

Lost both points of exhaustion thanks to the 8000 thread count elven sheets (did they get to keep the sheets or at least one sheet for help with exhaustion?)

Felt really good when he tried out dance yoga, even wondering if he should be some kind of yoga dancer instead of a fighter (how about a whirling dervish dancer like Cathilda?)

The grapes he put in his pocket (after refusing to eat them) turned into song

Indifferent towards saving Aelwyn and doesn't want to be on the retrieval team

When he started feeling anxious about the Aelwyn stuff, Riz told him to lose himself in dancing again to feel free (Riz: You are the only one that I wanna see dancing right now.) It made him feel much better.

***

Other Characters

Adaine

Taken by Court of Stars

Her jacket and spellbook were taken

Trapped in an orb which is soft and doesn't hurt her, but the constant movement of its slow turning doesn't allow her to be still or trance

The walls of her room glow with runes and there are many perminant magical effects, making her captors capable of some crazy things (like prepared directional counter spells), but the setup wouldn't counter cantrips

Escaped the orb with dispel magic (dc 15) which makes a couple counter spells go off and an alarm sound

Hid in Aelwyn's room. The sister's spoke before she was recaptured and placed back in her orb. Adaine told Aelwyn that she was going to get her out

Discovered that her room was close enough to Aelwyn to talk to her via the message cantrip

Repeatedly cast Ray of Frost to turn her orb into a slip and slide to stay entertained

Instead of speaking to her father in elvish, she responded in common. Also cast Tasha's Hideous Laughter on him.

Anguin and Kear said she would be executed for treason for staying in Solace and refusing to cooperate. She demanded a lawyer and then the Ambassador to Solace, citing her age and being a student at Augefort Adventuring Academy which summoned a recorded hologram of Arthur Augefort.

Arthur Augefort

Has a recorded hologram that is activated when a student claims the need of his diplomatic help in foreign affairs.

It threatens the listeners with graphic and terrifying violence and doom, giving them the options of either rectify the actions that summoned him (Yes) or refuse and welcome the aforementioned punishment for their actions (No).

Gorgug

Fabian's grandfather called him Jhor-judge

Finally got a message to Zelda via Ayda using her sending spell (Zelda. Safe in Fallinel. Gonna finish cell tower soon. Sorry about everything, but hope your break is going well in spite of this. Miss you.) and got a reply the next morning a little while after waking up (Sorry. Was at a party. You don't have to build a cell tower. That's crazy. It's all whatever Gorgug. I don't blame you.)

Didn't sleep well, but still got the benefit of a full night's sleep due to elven sheets.

Kristen

Got in a fight with Tracker and then got 3 nat 1s on persuasion checks when she tried to make up with her.

Slept in Adaine's room

Doesn't know how to make a cell tower

Took one of the 40 to 50 foot long diaphanous silk scarves with her

Gave (inspiring?) speech ending with "Friendship is thinker than water and we need water to live." which gave everyone 11 temp hit points

Accidentally called Pok a "smiling elf" and then blew it off as being due to her being human

Can now see Shadow Cat in the picture (along with Tracker, Sandra Lynn, Garthy, Riz, and Sklonda and possibly the dead cambian, Pok, Jace, and Adaine's mom) and reacted by saying "Was I spooning the cat all night in the milk!?"

Sandra Lynn

Dropped out senior year and got her diploma after the fact to join an adventuring party

Joined as a replacement member for an existing adventuring party that was already active in the world and included an older much more powerful married couple.

Fresh out of high school, fell in love with one person from the couple (nonbinary or gender intentionally hidden) who "did not treat her very kindly"

When it all came out, she was ejected from the adventuring party, her romantic partner took great pains to smear her name (so no one would accept her), no other party would take her as a replacement, and she was forced to become a Celesian Ranger

Gilear knows who the couple were, but doesn't want to tell Fig (could she know the people involved?)

Key-heir/Khear

Child-like elven maiden with long brown braided hair, a white gown, and a large staff.

When confronted by Arthur Augefort's hologram, she chose to not heed his warnings.

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More from 2.9!

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