#that gif of a shaking puppy - dat's him

[lamamasjamas]

A Very Belated Birthday

Part two to Birthday Surprise! (a cult classic it seems; read this first!)

A/n: This goes out to my thick bootylicious big mama latinas. I was listening to I Don't Know You by The Marias while writing the angst bits. (Also there’s barely any gifs of this man and I’m too damn lazy to make my own.)

Warnings: Smut, Miguel likes dat ass and eats pussy from the back, angst, moms, thick reader (not a warning, a threat 😈), the day after the birthday fracaso, fluff, read first part plessss

The door rings loudly, the knocks make the walls of the apartment shake. You wake with a start and your arm flops beside you, hand roaming and searching for a body next to your own

For a moment your heart drops, then you remember the night before and you fight the urge to groan. With a wipe of your face by the back of your hand you know your eyes were swollen and red. They stung.

You sigh, your mom. You forgot your mom was going to come over for your birthday. Miguel is at attention quickly, having spent the night in the living room with only a spare blanket and a pillow you threw at him before stomping away to bed.

He tosses the folded blankets over the couch after the doorbell rings. He feels rushed as he quickly pulls on a shirt hidden in the corner of the room. He sniffs it and curses under his breath. It was the one he wore a week ago when you just couldn’t wait to get to the bedroom to have his dick stuffed in you.

He opens the door, pushing back his hair and forcing his hands to stop shaking. He realizes now, getting a whiff of your mom’s perfume that he should have gone to the bedroom and told you she was here, carrying Tupperware and bringing a paper bag with a cursive and almost childish in color, Happy Birthday written on the front and back.

“Miguelito.” (lil Miguel)

She hugs him and her lips purse at his presentation, the still there sweat and strong hint of feminine perfume. The very same perfume you managed to stick on him from when you practically smothered him in sloppy and passionate kisses on the couch.

Her voice alerts you of her presence and you rush to change and hide the evidence of what happened the night before. But the door opens and you shove the mess under your sheets still heavily disheveled, your shirt lopsided and your sleep shorts twisted over your waist.

You were going to kill Miguel for telling her to leave her stuff on the counter and go over to the room.

“¡Ay, mi chiquilla!” (Oh, my little girl!)

Miguel stares at you from the door to the bedroom, clad in a loose shirt and sweatpants. You avoid his gaze and he looks down like a kicked puppy, crossing his arms and letting your mother pass through.

She notices.

“¿Que paso?” (What happened?)

You ignore your mother’s question, instead walking over from the bed and wrapping your arms around her.

“Hola, mami.”

She whispers against your ear as she pulls your head down to her shoulder, congratulating you on another year of life as she sways on her feet.

You smile for the first time in hours and give her thanks. She suddenly pushes you at arms length and frowns.

“Te ves más flaca. ¿te da de comer este cabezón?,” she whispers. (You look skinnier. Does this meathead give you anything to eat?)

You chuckle lightly. You were busy, things have been stressful with work and your relationship, life in general.

“Ama, estoy bien, estresada trabajando. Ya sabes…” (I’m fine, just stressed at work. You already know…)

She huffs, crossing her arms and shaking her head in disappointment. Always disappointed when you couldn’t keep up the image of being put together and happy.

“Ponte las pilas…” you could see Miguel’s lips start to quirk up at the phrase, but when your eyes flashed to his form leaned over the doorway his gaze fell to the floor and he coughed into his fist quietly.

Your mother turns to him, her face softens some, polite, gentle, and slightly fake.

“¿Y tú cómo andas? ¿Siempre trabajando, verdad?” (And how are you? Always working, right?)

His eyes flicker to you again. You’ve told her about how he works all night and most of the day. How he’s such a hard worker and wants to succeed and excel in his career. Your mother liked that, you liked that.

But now your eyes cut into his soul and his chest feels as if it’s about to compress into itself. He nods slowly, shifting on his feet as he faces the much smaller and older woman. She has your eyes, almost the same shade that bore into his head to search for his thoughts and sins.

She turns to you momentarily and he catches his breath, wiping the drops of sweat forming above his brow.

“¡Deberías ser más como el, íralo, tiene la forma de atleta y trabaja todo el tiempo!” (You should be more like him, look at him, he has the form of an athlete and he works all the time!)

You hated being compared to others. He knows it gets you heated. Your already sour mood gets even more tangy. Especially now that you knew her words were in fact bullshit, even if she didn’t know it.

His, hopefully if you let him explain, future suegra’s head turns to him again, your arms cross and you roll your eyes. He knew you were on the verge of erupting in either tears or shouts by the way your lip curled downwards.

“Has de tener mucho tiempo para hacer ejercicio.” (You must have so much time to exercise.)

He nods again, albeit slowly. He refused to look in your direction knowing you must have been glaring into his skull.

Technically, he does get a hell of a workout almost every night. Your scowl deepens, you both find the irony in your mother’s words.

He watches as your face becomes blank. So blank that when you passed by him at the door and out of your bedroom, guiding your mother outside, you didn’t even look at him.

All sat at the dining table, your mom gifted you some earrings, ones she wanted to pass onto you. She also brought food, carnitas from the day before. She helped you flip tortillas and Miguel prepared some bolillo.

He starts to sweat as she looks between you both, watching as you both eat in uncomfortable silence.

“¿Que hicieron ayer?” (What did you both do yesterday?)

He purses his lips and you glance at him from the corner of your eye.

Miguel slept on the couch last night, after you had discovered his secret. You had sat up in shock, his mask lifting from his face slowly as he revealed himself to you with pleading eyes.

He said your name softly, lifting himself from the bed as you shifted away quickly. You were mortified, embarrassed and angry.

Your eyes roamed over his body, you realized you should have known it was him. Same shoulders, same waist, same hands, same chest...

“Is this why you ditched me?” you ask shakily.

He will admit, he thought he sounded cool and noble when he said yes. He thought you would forgive him easily if you knew he was a no show because he was technically working to protect the city of Nueva York.

He gets a light and reactive slap for saying yes so confidently. He thought it was deserved by the way he saw you cry directly afterwards, your hand shaking and your mouth wide open from the gasp you let out the second you realized what you’d done.

Of course you would react that way. You just figured out that all of those times he wasn’t there for you, he was there for other people, that whenever you called he must’ve been out beating up criminals instead of answering you.

Also because he just fucked you silly as Spider-Man, acting as if he were a totally different person.

He tried getting closer to you, to hold you as you cried but there was too much that had just been uncovered. You were pinpointing all of the lies he’s told in the relationship, speculating on what else he could have been lying about as well.

After a while you had just stared blankly at him, sitting up in bed as he stood with his head down, constantly combing his hair back and fiddling with the mask in his hand.

His knee sinks into the mattress, his hand lifting to cup your face.

“I don’t want you in my bed, Spider-Man.”

You spit out his name as if it disgusted you. He was Miggy, he was Migue, and at the very least Miguel to you. He didn’t want to be Spider-Man around you.

It seemed as if he failed in that though, because in a moment of anger, after you had felt him lean closer, still in the black and red skin tight suit, you pushed him out of your bedroom, refusing to say a word, refusing to shiver at the feel of his rippling muscles that would usually make you swoon and keen over in a heartbeat.

The last time he saw you that night was when you had come out and stood over him, now out of his suit and in his underwear on the couch.

He was freezing, he always held you for warmth at night, his body suddenly being less capable of trapping heat ever since the incident.

Lyla was scolding him the second he got her back online, like a tiny fairy she bounced from side to side as she came up with ideas to win you back. Idiota, and moron escaping in between her sentences even as her holographic hand tapped his shoulder in consolation.

She faded the second the door to the bedroom opened and she saw your face full of scornful determination. His heart filled with dread at the face she made, her eyes wide and lips pursed as she looked once more in his direction and left.

She may be completely loyal to him but she knew you knew your way around her programming and Miguel’s files.

He sat up and you caught sight of his dick straining in his boxers even if he was soft. You watched the heaves of his chest and the flex of his bicep as he reached out for you desperately, attempting to beg for forgiveness.

“Cerezita, please, just let me explain.”

You swallow thickly and close your eyes, it was dark, dark enough for a normal person to barely catch the way tears were falling from your eyes.

But he wasn’t normal and he saw the trails of liquid on your cheeks so clearly he shot up from his seat and held you close.

For a moment, you lost it. Your arms wrap around him, your face buries itself on his shoulder and you take shaky breaths.

You’ve never had this. Someone you loved so much, someone who’s barely there for you. Someone kind and yet mean, so smart and confident and yet so reserved.

Even if you were crying about him, you still wanted his comfort.

You pushed away slowly, still crying, your lips wobbling as you contained another round of thick hot tears.

You threw the blanket at his chest and left, your socked feet thumping against the hardwood floors of your apartment as you made your way to your bedroom and slammed the door.

…

“We went out to eat,” you lie.

Your mother’s eyes widened, as if she had just remembered. You’ve talked about it with her, how he made plans months before, how you were excited.

She rubs your forearm, her thumb smoothing over your skin in a comforting caress. She smiles at you both and you smile back.

“Bien coda, ni te atreverías si no te invitan.” (You’re so cheap, you wouldn’t dare if you weren’t invited.)

You force yourself to chuckle, because yes, you wouldn’t have, and yes you were cheap. But for a good reason. You didn’t exactly grow up with the privilege to waste money or time for pleasure.

You weren’t used to it.

Her other hand crosses the table and she cups your wrist.

“Te lo mereces,” she smiles. (You deserve it.)

Miguel wanted to bury himself in his own grave. As deep as he could. You did deserve it. You deserved to be treated to a nice dinner with your serious boyfriend. You’ve worked too hard, you’ve been through so much.

And yet he couldn’t make it to a dinner reservation he made himself.

“Thank you, mami,” you say quietly, finishing up your food and standing from your seat.

Your hand trailed over Miguel’s shoulders and squeezed as you passed, making your way to the kitchen sink. He tensed at the sudden soft and affectionate touch.

You started to feel bad for him, you suddenly felt so selfish.

You had a tendency to react harshly at things that made you upset, only for hours or days later to think that you had overreacted.

He was a superhero, he was saving lives. And yet, you were upset at him not making it to eat dinner somewhere only the privileged could eat.

You numbly start washing the dishes, nodding when your mother comes up beside you and kisses your cheek goodbye. The water was running loudly amongst the silence she left you both in as the front door closed.

You almost wanted to pretend you couldn’t hear him lift himself from his seat, call your name and stand next to you. You almost succeeded before he reached into the garbage bin and pulled out the picture you had thrown in anger the night before.

He had fun that day, it was your third date. When he smoothed over the crease of the folded photograph directly over your face he remembered how nervous you had made him.

He remembered how he kissed you for the very first time because you both fell to the icy floor the second you got into the ice rink. Sure, the air was cold, both your cheeks and ears were basically numb and tingling from the chilly wind. But your lips…

They were so warm at that moment. Your hand had cupped his face so sweetly, feeling like slabs of ice on his jaw and cheek but making him shiver pleasantly at the contrast of your mouth and literally everything else.

And now you didn’t even want the memory of it, it was crumpled and distorted, destroyed by new bad memories like yesterday. When he stood you up on your birthday and showed up as someone else afterwards.

He didn’t even notice you had finished washing the dishes and stood with your hip leaning against the sink. Your hands crossed over your chest as if you were protecting yourself.

He places the photograph on the counter, his hand resting there as he stared back at you, his eyes soft and pleading, his shoulders weighed down with guilt. You open your mouth and he wants to close his eyes because this was it, you finally had enough and you were going to end things-

“I’m sorry.”

He blinks, his eyes narrowing and confusing you. You imagined his disbelief at your words to be irritation. You look down to his shoulder and focus on where his shirt ended on his neck, a hint of your lipstick still stained on the corner.

“I…” you sigh, your hand coming to rest on his hand hesitantly, as if you were expecting him to swipe it away, “I overreacted-”

He spooked you, his hand twisted up to interlace with your fingers, his other hand coming up to rest at your neck firmly.

“No.”

Your brow furrowed, his thumb tipped your head up with a firm push at your jaw. He looks deeply into your eyes and you hesitate, his eyes looked to be burning a deep red.

They were piercing as he narrowed his eyes, the red somehow darkening in his gaze. He could see your confusion.

“Contacts. When my eyes are dry I just wear shades...”

You lean up for a closer look, the hand at your neck slowly moving down your body until it rests at your hip and squeezed.

The stunned expression on your face placates and you step back again, or at least attempted to. His hand at your hip kept you close. Your brows furrowed, you were getting irritated again.

The fact that he could hide the way his eyes weren’t really brown astounded you, it almost broke your heart. This whole time you thought they were a deep chocolate brown.

You pushed down the feeling of resentment for discovering that the shade was a lot closer to burgundy.

You haven’t known the true color of his eyes for two years.

“What you do is important,” you start to apologize again and he rolls his eyes. He grits his teeth and scowls and suddenly his canines were pressing against his bottom lip, the twin points visible now even without his mouth open.

His arm had to wrap around your waist to keep you close, he saw the flash of fear in your eyes.

“Holy sho-“

“They’re venomous, can tear through skin easily.”

Your face twisted in anger and his heart started beating again, he pulled you closer against his chest, making you lose your balance. Your hands fisted his shirt so tightly he swore he could hear thread ripping.

“You kept this from me?” you grit out. He swallows thickly, appreciating the way your chest heaved and your cleavage exposed itself under your shirt.

“Yes.”

Steam would shoot out of your ears if it could. He smiles cheekily, his canines shining in the morning light.

His hand goes up your shirt, you hear the tears before you see them.

Most know about Spider-Man’s powers, the ones that were obvious. His “claws” and talons, super strength and reflexes. Up close the sharpness made you pause.

His fingers tore five holes into your sleep shirt, they were poking through prominently. You shiver as you look down, feeling the back of his hand flex against your breasts.

“Miguel-”

“I’m sorry.”

Your mouth shuts in shock. His hand drags down and tears your shirt into ribbons, you winced when the tips of his fingers crawled over to your back. Luckily for you the claws were retracted by then.

He slumps down against you, his shoulders hunching, his arms wrapping and resting over your hips as his head buries itself in your neck.

He breathes in deeply, his nose pressing against the side of your throat. Your hand slid up his sides, it was as if his knees were buckling underneath him.

His weight made your legs stiffen.

“You know I can’t have a day without breathing you in.”

“What are you-“ You were cut off by his almost whimpered words.

“I’m sorry.”

His eyes were sealed shut, his hand cupping your jaw to tilt your head and pull you in closer, he sniffed and nuzzled, his mouth pressing but not pursing, only wanting to feel your skin.

“I’m sorry.”

He was yearning to feel your anger, to smell the heat of it. Somehow seeing you so defeated had him struggling to breathe. Your sadness tastes acidic, but when he pressed his lips to yours at that moment all he felt was the scalding warmth of them, somehow sweet enough to make him salivate for more.

“You lied to me,” you mumble against his lips.

“I know.” He presses his lips against you again, the tips of his fangs graze over your skin and make it tingle.

Your hands come up to cradle the back of his head as his nose skims over your own. His nostrils flared as they passed over your cheeks, he could smell the incoming tears.

“Do I even know you?”

He shakes his head lightly, not at your question but at the thought of all of the times he’s debated telling you the truth. He thinks it would have been a burden to your already worried mind. He hated the thought of you waiting by the television, wondering if he was going to survive the latest supervillain wanting to take his life.

Each and every time he’s come home late, couldn’t make it to a date or didn’t answer your messages and calls he was making sure he could come back to you, at least as intact as he could be.

“You do know me. I’m Miguel.”

And Miguel was an idiot. He briefly questions how Peter deals with this. How he manages the life of a loving partner while also going out every night as a superhero. It seems impossible.

The tears fell and he knew what he said wasn’t enough. He cupped your face desperately and your eyes were closed tightly, refusing to look him in the eye and refusing to show how weak he made you feel.

You thought he wasn’t showing his true self. He thought that by showing his alter ego he would only reveal how much of a fraud he felt he was.

“You deserve better.”

Somehow that made you angrier, you opened your eyes and looked up at him incredulously.

“I know,” you say sternly.

His eye twitched, that stung.

“But I’m stupid.”

He leaned closer to you, his hands cupping your face and going to coo at you like a child. He had a whole speech at the tip of his tongue, ready to scold you for speaking down on yourself.

Your brows pinched together and your lips twisted into a light scowl.

“You’re stupid too, menso.”

His face falls and he titters in offense before looking down. He deserved it. You sigh.

“Show me…”

The air between you both got hotter the more you stared into each other’s eyes. His eyes brightened a darker red, his sharp teeth exposed themselves, two points pressing against the tips of your fingers as you swiped at his lips and two smaller fangs making his bottom lip plumper.

“Are we… serious? Two years and you haven’t- have you thought about it?”

He mumbled, not fully able to speak clearly.

“Yes…”

He has thought of telling you, but he just knew you would only try to help, you’d be part of unnecessary danger. He had hoped he could keep the life he had no choice but to take on separate from the one with you.

Besides, he had a tendency to lose control, to become ruthless. What if by accident, during one of his failures when he was upset and full of adrenaline you were there? What if you took the brunt of his anger and he lashes out?

“I’m dangerous.”

You shook your head, your hands pulled him close, he had no time to react properly as your lips met his. His fangs weren’t retracted, he wasn’t prepared to be gentle with you, he stood frozen.

You pull away, your face twisted with desperation, your eyes roaming over his face, hand already lifting his shirt up and his sweatpants down.

“Show me- please-“

He kisses you again, hands at your hips lifting you, his legs automatically moving towards the bedroom.

He was finally going to show you.

…

His mouth was devilish, he always has been a fiend for you, but this? This takes the cake. His face was buried in your globes, your waist was being held up by one hand and the other on your cheeks, now being pulled and squeezed apart so that your perfect puffy cunt could be revealed.

Your seam gleamed when he spread you, you held back a moan when the tip of his finger collected some of your slick. He could already taste it on his tongue, even if the tip of his finger was a couple of inches away from his lips.

His palm smacked against your cheek, he watched it jiggle, the fatty mass being squeezed in his hands as he held it tightly afterwards. Your head was buried in your pillow, the soft pillow case now smothered in your drool and tears.

Sometimes he can’t help himself, your body was so pliant this way. His thigh was between your legs, your bare cunt rubbing against his flexing quads as he groped and slapped. You were pulsing against him, his thigh now covered in your sweet slick.

It stung, he could feel the imprint of his hand slightly raise and swell as he caressed and fondled, your slight hiss of pain and the whimper of pleasure getting louder each time he kissed or licked a welt.

He hears the pleasured groan fall between your lips the second he spread you and his nose pressed up against your folds. His eyes roll to the back of his head at the feeling of the warmth on both sides of his face.

“Mmmf… mmm…”

Miguel’s tongue did that thing you liked, flicking in rapid repetition in and out of your tight warm hole, occasionally licking too far up and playing with the tight rim above your slit.

You could hear the bed frame creak, his massive form now on his knees, body hunched over to savor as much of your cunt as physically possible.

He wasn’t much of a talker during sex, grunts and groans would flutter in sync with his actions. He considered being buried in your cunt to be a numbing pleasure, his mind blanks and his thoughts suddenly get primal.

Miguel’s hands were rougher than usual, they gripped into your hips bruisingly as your hips ground back into his mouth and tongue.

He had so much drool running down his lips that it accumulated down to your pulsing clit, his bottom lip slightly catching on it as he bobbed his head from side to side and up and down in a trance.

He straightens his back, his mouth leaving you, when you turn slightly his eyes glow, the back of his hand wiping his mouth and chin as his body creates a shadow over you.

He grins.

He liked you like this, ass raised, back slightly arched, your softness so easily squeezable with your tits pressed up against the sheets so that each thrust of his makes your nipples graze below and tighten.

You’ve always been so open. Open about your feelings, your thoughts. You let things slide but you always made sure he knew how you really thought.

Right now, your cunt was being opened up to its limit, his thumb pressing against the tight rim of your asshole as he rutted against your ass.

Your breasts squished and rubbed against the mattress, your forehead pressing harshly against the pillows as his thumb slowly pressed in, his cock was working to ensure you took every hard, veiny inch.

No words were exchanged, you could barely make out his name in a breathy moan, but his stomach clenched at your whines and whimpers, the way your head turned side to side when he stopped your attempt to grind back made his cock pulse.

His hand at your hip stopped you quickly, slowly dragging across your back and pressing down against your spine to make you arch even further.

You loved the stretch.

Your body was cramping, the denial of an orgasm making you curse under your heaving breaths. Who knows how long you’ve been going at it, last time you checked the clock read twelve thirty, you swore through your half lidded eyes you now saw a single two.

You haven’t orgasmed, not even once in the span of all that time.

Your clit was throbbing, his balls were against them, kissing and teasing, plopping into you as he flexes his pelvis forward.

His thumb was gentle, pushing in and out, just barely stretching your tight little hole as he pounded into you.

Each time your cunt squeezed him, he felt your asshole clench with it. The intervals in between were getting closer and closer, Your whines and moans becoming pornographic.

Your words echo in his head, ‘Show me’. He usually let up his strength when he fucked you, making you believe you had the chance to gain the upper hand.

You can’t. Not really, but he thought it was cute letting you think you could. All the times you’ve ridden him, your hand at his chest and “pushing” him down as you straddled his waist were just an illusion of domination.

He could have just as easily pushed you away, held you down as he made his way with you, helped you ease onto his aching cock that he knew you struggled to take each time you were on top of him.

It was jarring to feel with absolute certainty that you were powerless, even after thinking you weren’t. He didn’t let you move, he had you pressed against the bed with your back sliding up and down the sheets, his whole weight on top of you, his forearms barely needing to flex to hold you down as his lips teased over your throat and collarbone.

“So sweet, cerezita.”

He was teasing you, his fangs were grazing over your skin, so sharp they left a slightly uncomfortable line of fire on your skin. It numbed quickly after, but you felt the low pulse and ache of it, throbbing in time with the pulses of your heart.

You were both so close, his skin sweat soaked and yours shimmering in the lowlight of the bedroom. He had closed the blinds, the ones he bought and installed into your bedroom that blocked out all sunlight and lights from the outside once they were fully shut.

Miguel offhandedly explained how his eyes were starting to burn, right before he lifted you to wrap your legs around his waist and feel the growing bulge of his erection.

The overhead lights glowed a faint and deep orange, down to its lowest setting. His hair falls into pieces and damp clumps over his forehead and cheeks, his body so close to yours his ear was right up against your cheek and his chest was pressed against yours.

His movements were more sensual, his thrusts slowing and trying to stave off for as long as possible. His pelvis ground against your mound, and his arms at your sides suddenly press under your back, as if he couldn’t be close enough.

He flipped you, his back now against the headboard and your legs spread to accommodate his waist as you sat on top of him.

His hands roamed over your thighs, coming up to cup your ass, his fingers digging into the flesh. Your body tensed, Miguel himself was surprised at what he did next.

His fangs were embedded into you, his face buried into your neck as his lips pressed flush onto your skin. The initial prick hurt, making your body react accordingly. Miguel wasn’t sure that your pussy squeezing the life out of him counted as an appropriate reaction though, but he groaned in satisfaction nonetheless.

Then your body slumped slightly, arms coming around his shoulder loosely as you leaned up onto his mouth.

Miguel knew how to control his venom, and he was a scientist, he wanted to test some of his hypotheses on you. It was a small amount, a drop of it and yet you could barely grind your hips anymore.

He licked your wound, now so numb you could barely feel the twin pricks at the junction of your neck and shoulder.

“You wanted me to show you, didn’t you?”

His thumb flicked over your swollen clit, now throbbing so much that it peaked between your folds. His hand cups your cheeks, squeezing and pulling towards him so that your cunt was stuffed full.

The only thing you could do was look up at him through a haze, mouth open in a perpetual ‘o’ as you let out faint ahs and ohs, moaning helpless against his shoulder.

Your face burned as you orgasmed, heartbeat rising so much it made your head pound in time. You wanted to scream as it ripped right out of you, but your tongue was numb and your jaw slack so it sounded more like a gurgled and desperate high pitched whine.

His head thumped against the headboard harshly, his thighs tensed and his body tightened, you felt lightheaded, a slight ring to your ears that you hated. You could feel him finish inside you, curling your thighs up his sides so that he could take a peek at the clumps of white seep between your folds and gush on his pelvis.

His hand went between your legs.

His thumb swirled over your nub, swollen and hidden between the hood he carefully prodded at to hit the tender center nerve. Your breath hitches, you gasp and he curses under his breath.

“Shocking-mmm.“ He closes his eyes, his throat threatening to close and he almost chokes on his own spit. You were so tight, your cunt still convulsing from your orgasm and his still wandering hand.

“…Puta madre…” he huffed, his body finally relaxing, his softening and yet still filling cock twitching for more as he cockwarmed you. Your head rises from his shoulder, heavy and on the verge of just falling back onto him again.

“La tuya, tonto.”

Your eyes flutter closed, he watches as your head sways back and forth attempting to stay conscious, or at the very least to have control of your body. Your forehead slams against his mouth and he bites his lip because of it, causing him to yell out in pain as you mumbled a quiet and slurred apology against the skin of his neck.

…

In what felt like hours later, your head was lying comfortably on his chest, your fingers pressing under his fingertips and making his claws extend.

“Freaky.”

Your hands graze up his wrist, the spinnerets he had just explained were slightly bulging on his forearm, you press on it and his body tenses, his face flushing and his chest brightening in a deep red. Your fingers quickly find the holes atop his wrist, your fingertips circling over the small contracting rim.

“Cute.”

He took it in stride, pursing his lips as you analyzed his hands and arms, the talons capturing your attention the most. He grazes his hand over it quickly, making it retract as you reach out for it, wanting to feel the extremely sharp structure sticking out of his forearms.

“No.”

You pout, he gives you a sarcastic smile.

“Please-“ “No.”

He frowns, remembering how he shred someone’s arms to spaghetti noodles the second he turned into this new person. Just the thought of him doing the same to you made his heart ache and his stomach turn.

He feels your lips graze against where his talons would protract, he tenses and stares at you wide eyed. You grab his hand and move it to cup your cheek.

“So tense, lighten up, Miggy.”

You sit up, hands on either side of his torso as his hands trails down to hold your hips and he clears his throat.

“I’m…” He swallows thickly, looking into your eyes. You almost get lost in them, the red fitting him perfectly. “…sorry” Your face was suddenly serious and he inhaled sharply.

“For what?” Your eyes narrow, your stare now, unwavering. His throat bobs as he gulps.

“For not telling you about my nightly activities.” He watches you nod, tilting your head for him to continue.

“For… using my Spider-Man charm and seducing you to accept me into your bed.”

You slap his chest and point a menacing finger in his direction. “Volado, cabrón.”

“You liked it-“ “Sht.”

Miguel’s face gets serious again, he starts to frown, feeling the guilt in his stomach swirling.

“I’m sorry, for taking advantage of the situation like that.”

You hum. “And?”

“And… for standing you up on your birthday. You didn’t deserve that. Fue pendejada y lo cage-”

His eyes widened before closing in bliss at your interrupting kiss, soft and sweet.

“Thank you for apologizing… for once.”

He raises a brow, his face lighting up, a smile lifting his lips at the thought that you had finally forg-

“La cagaste, Miggy. De la peor manera posible.” (You fucked up, Miggy. In the worst way possible.)

His face falls. You cup his face lovingly.

“You’re doing the dishes, washing the laundry, cleaning the bathroom and all of the living spaces, as well as making dinner for two months.”

He groans, his head slumping against the pillows as he squeezes your hips. He was no machista, there was a schedule, equal amount of chores for the both of them.

It was a life of order in the home, just how he liked it. He groans exaggeratedly, his hand moving across his face and pulling down as he frowned.

“Uuuugh, Ok…”

You smile softly and rest your head against him again.

He holds you tightly, both of you staring into nothing, your head on his shoulder and his fingers making slow circles over your spine, the only thing covering you both being the covers.

“Your mom asked if I proposed… while you were doing the dishes.”

He turns slightly to see your reaction. Your eyes widened and you continued to stare up at the ceiling. You were slightly mortified.

“Oh.” “Yeah, oh.”

He chuckles at your pursed lips, the way you attempt to hide your face in embarrassment.

“Told her I haven’t given you the ring yet...”

Your stomach erupted in butterflies, your fingers numbing in excitement. The sudden urge to squeal was strong. You take a deep breath in.

“You’re implying several things right now, you know.”

He smirks.

“I am, aren’t I?”

He pinches your arm to make you look up at him. There’s a slight glimmer in your eyes and he smiles at you softly.

“Would you? After everything, with everything?”

The silence was heavy, it was making it so that he couldn’t breathe properly, his face tingled, he has the slight urge to puke. You stare at him with wide eyes, slowly softening at how he got so nervous in the span of a few seconds.

“I would.”

Bright yellow confetti shoots out in the air around you both, Lyla standing over you both holding a noise maker and blowing into it loudly. Miguel covers your body quickly, thinking there was an intruder that he somehow couldn’t sense come into the apartment.

Hermoso Cariño starts playing and Lyla starts singing passionately.

“Lyla!”

She stops, rolling her eyes and looking at him exasperatedly.

“What? I’m following your plan, boss.”

You look up at Miguel, his arms like pillars at your sides and his chest still shielding you protectively. “Plan?” you snort. He winces and cringes, his face contorting in both annoyance and embarrassment.

He looks down at her, his face inches closer to hers.

“You love oldies…”

Your arms curl over his neck, your noses skim as you smile giddily.

“I do.”

“Thought I’d make it special…” He looks to the side and glares at Lyla, still standing over the side of the bed and smiling, she stands proudly dressed in full charro uniform and holds her sombrero in hand. “…after I proposed,” he growls.

She tips her head to the side, catching the frustration of his tone.

“You did propose and she said yes.”

“Lyla-“

“You implied you would and she implied an approval.”

Miguel sighs, faintly hearing your chuckles beneath him. “No, that’s not how engagements work-“

“Sliiiideshow time!”

Miguel shuts up the second he sees you interested on the screen Lyla puts up in front of you, overly cheesy and generic music playing over snapshots Lyla took of you both when you weren’t paying attention.

He just watches you the whole time, smiling along to the memories and watching your smile widen through each slow panned picture and video.

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

A/n: Again, if you saw this somewhere else... nuh uh, no ya didn't

@mxtokko :)

[justsomefluff]

OMG I LOVED that reaction you did, and the scenario like thing was really good!! I loved it, thank you!! Can I request another reaction (mini-scenario)? Like ATEEZ confessing to their crush while they (ATEEZ) are drunk? (San said Yeo does aegyo/is cute when drunk I'd like to see this ^^)

This is so cute, I would pay good money to see them tipsy no lie lmao. also this is fluff and crack at the same time so...I hope you like it lmao

Hongjoong:

(^ he’d do this during a drunk confession you cant change my mind ^)

Okay so when he’s drunk I feel like he sees himself as being really composed and cool

but in reality... not so much

and, even if he hadn’t been planning on confessing to you

oh boy, his body starts shaking a lil and you’re low-key like... 911?

like his body is telling him to ABORT MISSION but once his drunk brain has made the decision there's no going back

So, in his mind, this is what he’s saying out loud okay

“Y/n, I just wanted to let you know that I have some serious feelings for you. I know you may not feel the same way, but I just needed to tell you.”

Super awesome, everyone wishes to be that composed right?

Well here’s what he really said:

“Listen here, you cute mother-, no I shouldn’t swear at you, my bad. I’m totally in love with you right? Watchu think bout dat?”

and then he’s quiet, and smiling bc he’s proud of himself and you’re just like um????

like that’s not how you imagined this would go

But you also know that he’s gonna be super embarrassed about this in the morning so you just say

“Let’s talk tomorrow, Joongie?”

and he smiles at the nickname and nods and kinda puts his head down

You honestly cant wait to tell him you feel the same when he’s sober

and make fun of him for getting wasted

Seonghwa:

so Seonghwa, unlike Joong, is actually pretty composed

like at first, he’s wildin’ and everything

but then he just calms down super fast

like so fast you get whiplash

and he just smiles at you and you’re like “...freak”

then he frowns and he’s like “I like to look at pretty things that make me smile”

“You make me smile too, Hwa” :)

then he just grabs you into a hug and starts swaying you guys side to side

like some awkward and forced middle school slow-dance 

“What are you doing?”

and he shushes you to preserve the moment but you're like “I want answers”

then he finally leans his head down and his lips are brushing the shell of your ear so softly you barely notice

“I think I love you”

he strikes me as the kind of person who wants to confess but also isn’t ever 100% sure he wants to confirm that he loves you so he throws that “I think” in there to cushion the blow if you reject him

but, luckily for him, you do feel the same

you just turn your head ever so slightly to the side and peck his temple

he smiles and rests his head on your shoulder and squeezes your hips before wrapping his arms around you completely

“I kinda need to hear you say it”

“I think I love you too, Hwa”

Yunho:

okay this big ole baby right

I feel like he’s the kind of drunk who is crazy for a little bit but gets tired really fast

so after like an hour of insanity, his eyes are drooping and you’ve settled on a couch (or seat, wherever your location might be)

and he smooshes his cheek into your thigh and you’re totally aware that he’s gonna fall asleep on you

but you’re cool with that, I mean who wouldn’t be

and after a couple minutes of silence, you think he’s knocked out completely

he suddenly turns his head to look up at you

and you look down at him to ask if he’s okay, or if he needs anything

he just starts laughing and then this IDIOT

pokes your double chin (bc I mean why does he have to look at you from that angle) and goes “How is it that I like you so much, even your double chin is cute?”

part of you is like “omg he likes me” and the other part of you is like “...im gonna slap him. don't talk about my double chin”

so, given your inner turmoil, you're silent for a minute and he starts to pout

“you don’t like my double chin?” and he makes a double chin and grabs your hand to make you poke it

“say you like my double chin too, please”

“Yunho, I like you too... double chin and all” (you had decided that you are not going to slap him after all)

and thats kind of the end of the night bc after that crackhead confession he actually falls asleep

but you are lucky enough that he remembers it all the next morning and it becomes kind of a thing in your relationship to make double chins at each other then say “I love you” 

Yeosang:

drunk Yeosang and aegyo here we go

whiny baby voice and big eyes and pouting all the way

like he’s not so much into doing the cutesy actions like finger hearts and stuff

but refers to himself as “Sangie” and talks about himself in third person too

CLINGY

not necessarily cuddly, but always has to be holding your hand or else he’ll cry

calls you pet names like Jagi and my love and stuff

and at first you’re like aw he’s a cute drunk and tease him a little bit

but then he pouts even harder and murmurs “I'm serious”

you’re like O.O

“you mean it? you really like me, Sangie?”

nods his head furiously like you seriously think he’s gonna get a concussion for about .5 seconds

like okay I get it, you mean it, please stop doing that your head is not a maraca

“I like you too”

cue the biggest, goofiest, toothiest grin you’ve ever seen

makes big ole fishy lips at you, and points at them to ask for a kiss

so you just give him a quick peck, bc you don't really want either of you to be drunk for your first real kiss

but that satisfies him for the time being :)

San:

Sannie best boy, I cannot stress that enough

the sweetest lil drunk okay

tries to take care of you even though he’s the drunk one

thirsty? he’s gonna get up and get you a glass of whatever you want even if he spills half of it trying to give it to you

hungry? he’ll get you some if you agree to share

so halfway through a tub of ice cream he decides to lay some truth on you okay

“I like my ice cream like I like you”

and you, of course, having seen that meme, respond with “ugly?” and you cackle at your own joke

but he’s so offended

“apologize to yourself and this ice cream”

“wtf? why?”

“because ice cream is the second most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen after you. apologize”

literally holds the tub of ice cream up to your face, and will literally carve a sad face into the ice cream to make you apologize quicker

and when you apologize he eats the sad face and draws a smile

sentimental cheeseball is all he is in that moment okay

“you really think I’m pretty?”

he looks at you like “...duh”

“I think you’re pretty too, Sannie” and he smiles so big :’)

and both of you know that this would be the start of a really happy relationship aww

Mingi:

I bet Mingi is the cutest drunk okay like if you thought he was a giant puppy before get ready you aint seen nothin yet

and you don't even get a warning before he confesses bc he says it so out of the blue

like his whole plan was to drink some liquid courage iykyk and then he was gonna confess

but he ended up getting a lil more tipsy than originally intended

and he just blurts it out and he’s stuttering and lisping and just struggling to get all the right words out

but you just think it’s super endearing

“Minnie, are you drunk?”

he starts blowing raspberries in the air and starts shaking his head “you think I’m drunk?” 

literally hiccuping after every word lmao

like yes, Mingi, I think you're drunk

still blowing incredulous raspberries all over the place

and you blow one on his cheek and he starts giggling like the baby he is

“why you do that”

“bc I like you too, Minnie! also you were starting to spit and I needed you to stop that”

he giggles and nods at you, just happy that you feel the same way

nuzzles his head into your shoulder and plays with your fingers for the rest of the time youre together

Wooyoung:

okay he’s a crackhead already so I don't even think alcohol would be something he’s even offered most of the time lmao

but when he is all hell breaks loose

no subtlety about his confession at all

like he literally screams it at you

he had been paying extra attention to you all night, which you didn't even notice bc you liked him too and never imagined he felt the same

so you’re like he so friendly and clingy when he’s drunk

but five minutes later he’s like “DID YOU KNOW IM IN LOVE WITH YOU”

and you’re so taken aback because

1.) he just screamed in your face

2.) he just screamed that in your face

and then he’s quiet and just staring at you, waiting for a response

you’re so dumbfounded that all you say is “you too”

but thats enough for him

“GOOD THATS AWESOME”

and thats basically the end of the conversation bc he gets easily distracted

you have to remind him the next day that that conversation had even happened actually

and he’s like “oh yeahhhhh”

then you’re able to actually talk about what you both feel and be almost normal for about ten minutes lmao

Jongho:

since he’s on the quieter side compared to the rest of the group, I think this shows even more when he’s been drinking

but it’s almost concerning how quiet he is

like if you had never seen him drunk before you’d probably be really worried

and that’s exactly what happened

you went to check on him to see why he wasn't joining in the fun and he looks at you, a little teary from the alcohol

or maybe he’s just deep in his feels who knows

we’ve all been there amiright

and he’s like “just like you a lot you know that?’

you’re like “I was most certainly unaware of that, sir”

and he apologizes??? like why???

“I like you too, doofus, why are you sorry”

then he smiles and means it for the first time that whole night

he feels like he could crack all of the apples in the world he’s so happy

side-note: he probably could break all them apples fr

so basically you just made him the happiest apple murderer in the world

he’ll break all the apples for you baby

[prurientpuddlejumper]

Well This is Strange and Unexpected [Toshinori x Reader] [Part 3]

<- Part 2

Summary: You’re feeling guilty over past mistakes and wake up in a bad mood only a certain human golden retriever can cure. 

2,696 words | SFW (but there is some canoodling & severe injury)

Hot tears roll down your cheeks, flowing in burning rivers along the side of your nose, and over your lips, filling your mouth with the taste of salt. Searing pain shoots through your left arm from the elbow up through your shoulder. Every time you move, even in the slightest, unbearable agony rips through your arm and pulses through your whole body like a thing with teeth, consuming you whole. So you sit as still as possible, trying not to move, dreading every breath and every sobbing wail that makes your chest rise and fall, shifting enough to renew the torment.

Your arm is broken, but you don’t understand that. You are four years old, and you have never experienced this kind of pain before.

You just want it to stop.

Mama runs toward you, calling your name. She’ll make it okay again. She’ll help. She’ll make the pain go away. You would do anything to make the pain go away.

She scoops you up in her arms, cooing calming words. Wrapped in her protective embrace, the pain goes away.

You stop crying.

She screams.

“Are you all right?!” A hand shakes your broken arm.

Your eyes shoot open. Lightning blue irises stare back at you from their shadowed sockets.

“No!” you scream, scrambling back until you strike the headboard. “Stay back! Get away from me!”

Toshinori retreats to the door with a yelp, turning his back respectfully and shielding his eyes. “I’m sorry! I wasn’t trying to be creepy, I swear! You were shouting, and I thought...”

Broken? Your arm still throbs with the sensation of being fractured. No. You rub it with your other hand, testing it, and find no pain. Not broken. You knead and stretch the offending limb, massaging away the horrible prickling beneath the skin. You’re fine, you breathe. It’s fine.

Someone is frantically muttering apologies in the doorway.

Crap.

Toshi. He thought you were angry at him. You have to—

You try to hold in a laugh, but, failing, it ungracefully bursts out your nose as a snort.

He is wearing a short pink sweater that shows off his abs, and sweatpants that say “DAT ASS” on the butt.

 ***

A wave crashed behind you, spraying up sea foam and a million jewels of water that reflected the dazzling fire-colored sky silhouetting your entwined forms. If someone had been standing there with a camera, the frozen snapshot of that moment would have made a stunning poster for a heart-throbbing summer romance film.

Unfortunately, time marches on, and in the next moment, you were both soaking wet in water up to your ankles, fleeing, gasping at the shock of freezing water. You laughed about it, but since you hadn’t taken your shoes off to walk on the beach, and the not-quite-summer sun was sinking below the horizon, the walk back to the train was uncomfortably squishy and cold. The damp chill set off Toshinori’s blood-fueled cough nonstop, making other passengers stare, unsure if they were in the beginning of a zombie film.

Huddling close together for warmth the entire way home, however, somehow made all the shivering worth it.

He insisted on getting off at your stop and walking you home—he couldn’t let you go off all alone freezing! In turn, you refused to let him go home covered with goosebumps and hacking up blood everywhere. You lent him some dry clothes, but he is so much taller than you, all of your shirts fit him like crop tops. You’re not sure why he had to pick those sweatpants though. He claimed it was because they were the most comfortable pair, but you didn’t quite believe that reason as he twisted his hips to show off the ass-writing while grinning like an idiot.

“Nope. You are not walking home like that,” you said dryly.

“Aw, come on. I’m adorable.”

“Yes. But someone will beat you up.”

“It wouldn’t be a date with you if I didn’t get beat up.”

“Couch!” you growled, dragging him across the living room and pushing his shoulders down onto the sofa. He was being so goofy all of a sudden. You’d never seen him in such a relaxed, cheerful mood—and it was infectious. You couldn’t resist climbing onto the couch after him, straddling his lap. He folded his arms around your neck and laid back, drawing you down on top of him. Your nose was an inch from his, and your face grew hot with the desire to kiss him again. A throaty hum rumbled in his chest.

This wild-haired scarecrow man smiling up at you between your arms. On your couch. You swallowed, a squeezing in your heart. He was so affectionate, like a stray dog once it warms up to you—like he craved it. And he was good at it.

His hands began to slide up your shirt, watching your face for hesitation. When you let out a shuddered sigh and relaxed more of your weight onto him, he started caressing the curve of your waist and ribs, hands enveloping most of your back—so large for such a slender man, though in proportion with his height. He leaned up, but instead of kissing you, missed your lips and nipped your ear. You let out a pleased gasp, which elicited a devilish grin from him, full of teeth.

Your heart beat faster. You wanted more. You were lying on top of him with his hands under your shirt—it seemed like more was where this was headed, and yet… how could you? The squeezing in your chest tightened; became constricting. He only likes you because he thinks you’re heroic. All that stuff you told him about your quirk, about wanting to help him, that’s what attracted him. Just like his refusal to take advantage of your ability turned you on. But he had the wrong idea. You’re the opposite of heroic. Would he still want you if he knew the real you?

You barely knew him, either, come to think of it. And there you were canoodling like teenagers.

You realized his hands had paused on their path up your back, and his lopsided grin had sunk into a worried frown, tension tugging at the creases of his eyes. The giddy, intoxicated atmosphere between you turned harshly sober. Did he notice your sudden panic, or was he having his own second thoughts?

A PHONE CALL IS HERE! A PHONE CALL IS HERE! A PHONE CALL IS HERE!

Bless that obnoxious ringtone. It broke the silence that had fallen between you, and you both jerked upright, straight as boards, straightening your clothes, a discreet sigh of relief escaping both your lips.

“S-sorry, I need to take this.” He clapped a silencing hand over the phone as he held it to his ear, quickly retreating into the bathroom and closing the door. Apparently, it was private. You could just make out a few hushed words, “All set?”, “...internships…”, “good.”

“Do you have to leave?” You asked as he finished the call. God, you hoped it wouldn’t end on such an abrupt, awkward note.

“No, no, everything is fine, just checking in. I'll actually be free most of the week,” he smiled. “Well, freer than usual, anyway.”

He sat back on the couch next to you. You both flushed again, a bit unsure if the other wanted to resume... whatever was about to happen. “Ah, m-movie?” You offer.

He wanted nothing more than the reprieve of a familiar activity. A movie would be a welcome distraction to cool off from the conflicting uncertainty of moving way too fast. Yet, he couldn’t let the fire be extinguished that easily without paying it proper tribute first.

He took your hand and drew it to his lips, keeping his eyes on you as he kissed each knuckle. Your heart pounded. He smiled mischievously, and let out a chuckle, raising his eyebrows in commiseration, “A movie would be great.”

Less than an hour later, he was snoring softly, mouth hanging half-open. Quietly turning off the television, you tried to disentangle yourself from his arms without waking him. You threw a warm blanket over his gangly form, curled in on itself to keep from spilling over the sides of the sofa. Silently mouthing, “Goodnight,” you tip-toed back to your room.

 ***

“Toshi, wait, it’s not you! I was having a nightmare,” you stretch out your hand to beckon him back, wiping sleep from the corners of your eyes. “And I’m wearing pajamas, you don’t have to hide your eyes,” you add with a yawn.

He had peeked out from behind his hand at your outburst of laughter, suddenly not sure whether he had grievously offended you or not. This new development seems reassuring.

“Sorry for scaring you,” he says, penitent.

You had already startled yourself most of the way out of the covers, so you sit the rest of the way up and throw your legs over the edge of the bed. You shake your head.

“You didn’t. I was just… afraid of hurting you.”

“Hurting me?”

Morning light filters in through the window, casting glowing shapes over the blanket and floor. It’s a sunny day, but your body feels heavy, like there’s a rainstorm outside. Though you’re awake, the nightmare lingers in the air. Its dark clouds had parted momentarily thanks to this enormous puppy dog’s wardrobe choice, but they close in around you again, suffocating.

And there he is—your gaunt, ungainly puppy’s head tilting slightly, trying to figure out what’s wrong. He looks… nervous? He doesn’t know what to do in this situation. It’s weird. Ugh, why are you being like this? He’s too thoughtful, and you’re being weird. Shouting in your sleep and then being all ominous and moody. Taking up his time. Embarrassing.

But you may as well explain.

You recount the dream. Memories, really. Replayed and repackaged a thousand different times courtesy of your brain. The details and facts might change, but the essential truth remains the same: you hurt somebody close to you, and it could happen again.

As you talk, your heartsick expression drives him to sit down next to you and take your hand, massaging your palm between his thumb and fingers.

“You were just a kid. It wasn’t your fault. Kids accidentally hurt people all the time when they manifest their quirks. It can be ugly, but it’s a fact of our super-powered society. You can’t blame yourself.”

Your eyes focus in and out on a pattern on the wrinkled blanket beneath you, where a printed line meets a neat row of stitches. Should you tell him? You chew on the inside of your lips. Does it matter? It was so long ago.

“That wasn’t the only time,” you finally croak, a tightness in your throat. “Remember the I-almost-died story? How I learned my lesson about playing hero and using my quirk more than I could handle? I made it sound like I was the victim. But I left something out that… changes things.”

A villain attack damaged the school. Emergency services hadn't arrived yet and all of your wounded classmates were looking at you like you were the solution to all their problems. And you thought, this is my chance to prove I can save lives. That I’m not a monster who breaks people.

Every part of your body screamed out in agony. You writhed on the ambulance bed like a feral animal blindly lashing out, though every movement shot a crackle of lightning behind your eyes. There was no position you could lay in that didn’t hurt. Each breath was like glass shards rattling in your chest. All rational thought was drowned out by the pain screaming in your ears, burning you like fire. Every moment was more than you could endure.

Only one impulse remained: Make it stop. Please, make it stop.

“A medical technician made the mistake of touching me, and I hurt them. Bad. Just trying to escape my own body—to save myself from my own stupid mistake.

“I always pretend it wasn’t my fault. It was because my classmates kept asking me to help, even though they knew it was hurting me. It was because All Might made it seem noble to grit your teeth and smile through the pain. It was everybody else’s fault for making me go past my limits. Except it wasn’t. I was the one who did it. I was the one who couldn't control myself.”

“Yeah, that was pretty stupid,” he says plainly. Oh. That was blunt. He sighs and tips his head to the side. “Did you want me to scold you for it? It sounds like you already know exactly what you did wrong, and you’ve beaten yourself up plenty.”

It wasn’t the most comforting thing to say—more like he was lecturing a child—but to be honest, if he had sugarcoated it and told you it wasn’t that bad, you wouldn’t have believed him.

“I just... don’t want you to have the wrong impression of me. You probably think I’m a good person, but I’m not. I’m a villain!”

He actually laughs. Then he sees your face.

Toshinori’s eyes flick wide in a moment of panic, realizing he was being callous, before instantly transforming into comfort mode. He puts his arm around your shoulders. You hadn’t realized you were on the verge of tears until you instinctively turn and bury your head in his chest. Dark wet spots appear on the borrowed sweater where your face presses into it.

“You are not a villain, young lady.” He kisses the top of your head, nuzzling your hair. “Nothing like one.”

“But I still used my quirk, even after all that, knowing it could have happened again. When I make a mistake, people get hurt. And I broke the law! I’m not licensed!”

“It was to help someone you saw in need. You reacted. It was brave, especially knowing how worried you must have been about using it.”

“Yeah? I doubt All Might would see it that way.” Your words, hitched and muffled in the pink sweater, are needlessly sharp, but you don’t care about insulting his stupid idol right now. “Any hero would still just see illegal public quirk use. There's only good and evil with heroes, no in between, and clearly I'm on the wrong side.”

His grip around you becomes fiercer, his teeth gritting, like he’s trying to squeeze the sadness out of you. “I am absolutely certain he would not want you to feel that way. Only an idiot would think you're evil.”

Well, All Might is an idiot, you think, but don’t say, choosing instead to bury your face into his chest again. Even if you could speak through the crushing pressure of his arms, you wouldn’t want to spoil the moment, or end the comforting, consuming weight of his embrace. When he finally lets up, you gasp for air. He takes your shoulders firmly but reassuringly, hands so large his thumbs rest tenderly on the sides of your neck. He blinds you with his bright blue eyes.

“When you make a mistake, you learn from it, and keep moving forward.”

His voice is so deep and confident, yet so gentle. The way he says it makes it sound easy, and the heavy storm clouds begin to evaporate into the morning air.

“Just move forward, huh?”

He nods. “It’s a dangerous gift you have, but you weren’t afraid to use it when someone needed help. In fact, you insisted you’d use it again in an emergency, even if I told you not to.” He smiles warmly, his thumbs ghosting up and down the crook of your neck. “Why is that?”

You slowly let out a breath. “Because I know my limits now, and how to defend my boundaries. I know I won’t lose control again.”

“That doesn’t sound like a villain at all,” he lifts a brow.

“No… I guess not.” You wipe your eyes on your pajama sleeves, sniffling. “Dammit, you squeezed the sad out of me!” You laugh. He’s a little confused, but glows when he sees you smiling again.

[restlessmaknae]

struck by lightning

When Wong Yukhei - a supposed-to be-duke from the 1840s - shows up in Kim Lara’s life, she has no idea what to do about him and about her growing feelings as time goes by. 

♦ Pairing: Yukhei x OC (Lara)

♦ Genre: Kate and Leopold inspired, fluff, comedy

♦ Words: 10.8k

♦ Dedicated to: the one and only @dat-town​ who means the world to me; I love how we can still fangirl together and bond over anything and come up with ideas despite being 7 hours away from each other! Thank you for being you, I love you more than I could put into words! Take care, dear! 💖💖💖

♦ Click here to be added to the TAGLIST and to let me know about your fic preferences.

After revising five weeks worth of business terms, Kim Lara found herself dozing off again and again, sitting on the pouch in the small yet cozy living room of the flat. It was raining outside, thunders occasionally ripping the silence off, so she could feel even more sleepy thanks to the constant hurtling of the raindrops against the roof of the single-floor house.

She was just about to end her suffering and putting away her notes when she heard a loud thud from the very small backyard’s direction that was just a few meters away from her, on the other end of the backdoor that separated the living room she was currently in and the garden.

She immediately snapped her head back at the sound, her eyes widening when she caught sight of a human body that looked like it had just fallen from the sky, landing on the grass ever so gracefully. She reached for her phone, panic rising inside of her body, thinking of scenarios how such a thing could be possible. As she was dialling the police’s number, she took a few tentative steps closer to the door, and what she saw was far from what she had imagined.

The boy who had just landed there seemed like an innocent twenty-something dressed in some kind of a costume - a costume of a prince. He was dressed in a black frock coat with slim fit, a dark vest underneath, hiding a plain white shirt, and trousers with button flies, dress shoes at its finest. She had to admit that whatever occasion he had dressed up for, he looked like a real prince, even his hair was neatly styled back, only a few locks were falling into his chestnut brown eyes thanks to the raindrops sitting on his hair and the abrupt encounter with the wet grass.

When Lara’s eyes met his, she let out a yelp, not because of something she had seen in them because they looked like the cutest puppy eyes she had ever seen, but more like because of the way how frightened he was. To see her.

“Who are you? What are you doing in my garden?” she exclaimed loudly to be heard even through the occasional thunder, standing by the door, opening it just a few inches, so that she could look at the stranger. He seemed even more surprised to find her there when it should have been her who was the more dumbfounded out of the two of them. What was he? A drunk neighbour missing his flat and falling into her back garden? No, she had met all of their neighbours. He couldn’t have been.

After the initial shock, the boy seemed more hurt by her words than surprised and cleared his throat before he spoke up.

“I am certain that the tone you use is not appropriate for such a situation, my lady. You must not recognise me - and I have to admit it does hurt my pride - but I am Wong Yukhei, duke of Cumberland, and I live here, so if you may let me in…” He explained ever so eloquently, and she had no idea what to find more interesting. The way he spoke or what he had just said.

She furrowed her eyebrows in question, hands shaking as she was still trying to hold onto her phone, afraid that he might be a burglar or a con-artist or whatever. There were so many horror stories going on about people taking advantage of youngsters’ situations and robbing them when they were away for the weekend or inviting themselves into the flat saying that they were just checking on the water pipes.

However, that boy seemed completely harmless (even despite his odd costume), and was able to withstand the next minute of just standing there in the rain, getting soaked, while waiting for her to make up her mind. Eventually, she let him in, but only because of what she had seen in his eyes, and she decided to follow her heart because it had never deceived her before.

“Dude, you must have really hurt your head,” she remarked a bit in doubt as she held the door open for him, watching as he made his way into the flat. His steps were slow and calculated as if he had been walking on the runway, he took his time getting into the flat which made her a bit suspicious. Was he really into that prince play of his? But why? It seemed convincing though.

“First of all, it’s my flat and I don’t know any Wong Yukhei, duke of Cumberland, who lives here. We live here with my best friend and these are all our stuff!” Lara pointed around herself, the flat radiating their youthful vibes and eccentric personalities with her best friend, Mark Lee. A comic book here, a lava lamp there, a smoothie maker on the shelf, the notes of her business notes on the pouch, Mark’s long-forgotten brownies on the top of the fridge.

Lara and Mark’s history had gone a long way, it had actually gone back to elementary school. They had been the only British-Korean kids back in their hometown, thus they had been somehow destined to be best friends, and the years behind them had just proved their tight bond. Going to the same university, moving away and living together in the same flat had not even been a question, they had wanted this life for themselves, to be able to keep their friendship while going onto higher education, and it had just worked out fine.

So for this Wong Yukhei to say that it was his flat was utterly ridiculous, though the way he looked around seemed like he had been utterly lost as well.

“What is this place? Who are you? Why does this room look like this? Where is my chandelier?” He yelled frantically, making her question if he was really sane or he had just run away from a mental institute.

“Oh man! This will be harder than I’ve thought,” she mumbled under her nose, not quite believing the sight in front of her. What was she supposed to do with a guy who dressed up as a prince and who claimed that he was the duke of Cumberland and that it was actually his flat, not theirs? Even if he seemed completely harmless, the uncertainty of the situation bugged her a lot.

Before she could come to any kind of a possible solution, the front door flung open and then it was immediately closed, an all too familiar voice breaking the momentary silence.

“Sorry. Got a bit caught up in the rain and I-” Mark started chattering like he always did when he was in a good mood, and Lara had just turned around when her best friend made his way to the living room where she was standing with that so-called duke.

“Mark, please, don’t freak out,” she asked pleadingly, keeping her eyes on Mark’s face who seemed more amused than surprised.

“Oh look, it’s a boy! You finally got yourself a boyfriend, I see. Although he looks a bit odd, I must admit. I think I’ve interrupted something judged by his torn clothes,” he implied with a smug smirk, wiggling his eyebrows to which she just smacked him in the shoulder.

“Shut up! He’s not my boyfriend. He fell onto the grass a few minutes ago and he claims that he’s some kind of a duke and that he lives here,” she summed up as quickly as possible, not that she knew anything more really. The guy who looked around as if he was Alice in Wonderland merely blinked at the other boy, examining him with his big doe eyes.

“Wait! What happened that he appeared on the grass?” Mark furrowed his eyebrows, a bit uncomfortable under the intense stare of the so-called dude who - as if he had just been trying to tell a story - straightened his back, dusted off his coat and started speaking slowly and eloquently.

“I was riding my horse when a mighty thunder was heard through the hills and I do not recall what happened exactly, but I do know that there was utter darkness and then I woke up to this young lady standing by the door, looking at me as if I was a mere intruder,” he shared his part of the story which made Lara exchange a glance with her best friend.

Mark didn’t seem that suspicious though. He merely shrugged his shoulders and suggested:

“Look! We just have to Google if he’s really a duke.”

“Mind sharing with me why would you giggle if I am real?” The so-called duke asked with the most confused expression ever, making her jaw drop.

Was he really that good at acting or was he really thinking that he was a prince and he didn’t know things such as Google? She might not have believed that it would be the possible answer but she didn’t even know what to believe in anymore.

“No, dude. We will Google it, not giggle. We’ll search for evidence on the internet, you know,” Mark tried his best to explain but the other boy merely furrowed his eyebrows.

“I am real and you are endangering my territory,” he said almost as a warning, but Mark was already too deep into his little online research, he couldn’t respond to him. Lara peaked above her best friend’s shoulder to read what was written on the guy’s mobile phone’s screen, but her eyesight wasn’t that good, so she let him read out the findings.

“Look, there’s really a duke called Wong Yukhei…” Mark said, totally in awe. “But he died in 1846 on 15th June in a thunderstorm��� Oh my gosh, it’s the same day as today!” He commented almost excitedly, making Lara’s jaw drop more and more. “And his residence… It was somewhere around here, indeed!” He turned to her with his whole body, eyes totally lit up as if he had been told that he had won the lottery. But for real? What kind of a conspiracy theory it was?

“So you want to say to me that he died almost 200 years ago, yet he’s somehow here with his nasty remarks?” Lara asked skeptically but the duke didn’t seem too pleased by her choice of words and he wasn’t afraid to voice out his opinion either.

“Language, young lady.”

“Not so appropriate remarks, are you happy?” She turned to him, eyeing him for a moment, eyes throwing daggers in his direction.

“Yes, certainly.”

“And so you’re somehow still alive and want your home back?” She kept on asking him, more and more in disbelief due to this unbelievable situation. What was this for real? Some kind of a prank show? No, that wouldn’t have been possible, Mark was horrible at pretending not to know something.

“We shall come to an agreement soon. Otherwise, I am turning to other actions,” the duke said firmly, making Lara think that he wasn’t joking. Or he was merely a good actor, who knew?

Yet, there was no logical explanation as to why they had a duke in their flat who had supposedly died 200 years ago, but looked exactly like the same one on the photo that the online search results had thrown into their face. It was crazy. How could it happen? And why? There must have been a reason that he had showed up where he had been living before and he had appeared right on the day he was supposed to die?

It couldn’t be but still… It was so surreal. It felt like a dream.

It was crazy, absolute madness, but they couldn’t deny that this so-called duke looked exactly like the one from the old photos and he had told them about the same life story that could have been read on the internet. He was actually a duke from a British father and a Chinese mother but that relationship should have been kept secret, so for him to seem invisible and for him to not cause any trouble in the UK, he was shipped off to the US, being given a mansion with servants and everything he needed, so that he wouldn’t go against his father and his own cursed destiny as an unwanted child and an immature duke.

Truth to be told, the boy seemed clearly dumbfounded when he had gotten to know that he had been sent off to the US because his father had been ashamed of him, not because he had been there to start living like a real man and studying to make his parents proud. He had also been told that his mother had abandoned him when in fact according to the history books, she had been chased away.

Lara felt a bit sorry for him while they revealed the truth to the boy but there was no other way they could have actually tested out the waters and see if he was being honest or not. Everything he had said seemed to overlap with the stories circling on the internet - apart from these rather heartless intentions behind his father’s acts. Though it had been the XIXth century and being a duke must have been a really big thing back then.

However, knowing about his bittersweet story didn’t mean that they had any idea why he was suddenly there on the exact day he had died but 200 years later, having all his memories and knowing nothing about the modern world. It was odd even just to think about the possibilities behind this weird phenomena, but Mark as the sci-fi fan he was, came up with all kinds of conspiracy theories and babbled about time travelling and such.

Knowing nothing better, Lara and Mark decided that it would be best if they were with the duke most of the time since he almost broke the toast maker when they were having dinner together, and they weren’t ready for disasters. So it was settled that Mark would go with the duke first thing in the morning to choose some casual clothes for him (since Mark’s own clothes were too small for the six feet tall duke), and then they would be going for Mark’s university lectures together. Lara highly doubted that everything would go according to plan, but he let Mark have his bro moments with these so-called super cool dude who had no idea what the internet was but at least his vocabulary was so extensive that Mark could learn some new expressions from him - or so she heard.

Lara let her best friend take care of the guy for the night, letting him sleep on a mattress beside himself. Since they had their own rooms, she merely checked in on the boys before going to sleep and she was totally dumbfounded when the duke bowed to her, wishing her a goodnight in such a poetic way that Mark immediately broke into little fists of laughter.

However, the next morning came and with that a whole new range of difficulties arose. First of all, the duke was up from the crack of dawn, looking around the flat and accidentally walking into Lara’s room, waking her up from her dreams and making her throw a pillow in his direction, calling him a pervert because he had ever so casually walked close to her sleeping figure as if he hadn’t known personal space. Then, the duke almost broke a mug, almost started a fight with their tv in the living room and almost died on the spot when he heard that the microwave was talking to him - aka signalling that Mark’s morning milk for his cereal was ready, but the duke was so surprised by the sudden sound that he fell onto the floor.

After the first few mishaps, they all sat down to have breakfast, Lara sending death glares in the duke’s direction while he was smiling at her as if she was the most beautiful person on Earth.

“What’s this?” The duke pointed at Mark’s breakfast which was his favourite type of cereal with semi-warm milk just like he liked it. No matter what kind of other options existed, his love for cereal was ethereal.

Mark casually shrugged his shoulders and responded in between two bites.

“Cereal.”

“What’s a cereal?” The duke insisted, not having heard of anything similar. Lara was munching on her tuna and mayonnaise sandwich, looking out for the rest of the conversation, hoping that his best friend could somehow get himself out of this situation or at least make the other boy understand what cereal really was.

“Uhmm… it’s something people eat for breakfast with milk or as a snack,” he concluded after a few seconds of intense thinking, then grinned at the boy on his left who was just as confused as before.

“What’s in it?” He blinked innocently at the boy, eyes hungry for answers as if he was trying to get to know some kind of a secret tip for being immortal when in fact it was just a cereal talk.

“Well…” Mark opened his mouth to explain it to him but gave up after a while and instead he put the box of the cereal in front of the other boy and let him read the list of ingredients.

“What is dextrose?”

“I dunno, man.” Mark shrugged like before, digging deep into his milk and cereal combination, munching happily as if he was still a kindergarten kid. However, the duke was practically scandalized by what he had heard, his eyes were twice as big as usual and his mouth hang agape.

“You don’t know what you are eating?” he asked, bewildered, making Lara burst into little fists of laughter. No matter how much doubt she had had, she couldn’t deny that this boy was sure not from this century. He couldn’t have been that good of an actor.

However, when the duke caught her eyes on him, she felt a bit bashful and immediately looked down at her sandwich, prompting the duke to continue eating the scrambled eggs he had made for himself. At least, that was what had been his intention, but he had needed a bit of assistance, so she had come to help him before he could burn down the whole kitchen and make their student loans cry out in despair.

They continued eating in this weird atmosphere, the duke asking questions that Mark couldn’t even answer, but eventually she needed to let the boys alone since she had a lecture in the first period, so she needed to leave the flat earlier than the duo.

“Are you two really going be fine?” Lara couldn’t help but ask before departing, her hands on her hips as if she was trying to warn Mark about something. But as always, her best friend seemed like the most chill guy ever, not having any worries regarding his newfound friend.

“Yes, sure. Don’t worry. We’ll be best bros, and I’ll introduce him to everyone,” he promised with a proud grin, exchanging a glance with the boy by his side who smiled widely at him.

“At least come up with a believable back-up story,” she asked of the boy since he couldn’t have just said the truth. They couldn’t believe it either, they didn’t need anyone else’s inquiry or noisiness.

“Will do,” Mark promised gleefully and sent a wink her way before she just rolled her eyes and turned on her heels to leave the flat and the two chaotic boys behind.

She should have known that these two wouldn’t be doing well when Mark had texted her that they would be going out with some of his university friends and that Yukhei - Mark was already referring to him as such and the duke didn’t seem to mind this either - would be going with them, so that he could socialize a bit. She should have known that nothing good would come out of them spending time together, especially not with Mark’s university friends who could be a bit too much sometimes - in her very humble opinion.

On the other hand, nothing could have prepared her for the sight of the duke stumbling into the flat being supported by her best friend who was at least a head smaller than him, his chestnut brown eyes a bit hazy and his expression a bit dreamy. She had to admit that he looked quite decent and handsome in his black jeans, loose t-shirt, converse shoes and it seemed that even his hair was styled differently, but anyway… Why did he look so drunk?

“Oh my gosh, what did you do to him?” Lara exclaimed like an overprotective mother but she just didn’t want to believe her eyes. How could Mark let things get so out of control that the duke was already wasted? Only 24 hours had passed since he had landed on their grass, and he was already drunk!

“He said that he can take alcohol well and he looked like he was having fun, so I didn’t want to stop him from enjoying himself,” Mark blabbered like the chatterbox he was, giving her his best puppy eyes, so that she wouldn’t be mad at him.

No matter how enraged she was, the drunk duke was the one who looked the most miserable, his chocolate-brown locks sitting messily on his head.

“Oh.. my lady… why are you always so woeful?” Yukhei asked, his words coming out of his mouth with little pauses in between and his eyes were staring far ahead as if he couldn’t focus well.

“I’m not woeful, I just don’t want to babysit a twenty-something duke from the XIXth century when all I’ve asked was of you was to take care of him and you got him wasted!” Lara turned to the duke, then to her best friend, not knowing at which boy she was more mad. Gosh, how could she ever trust Mark with a giant ass baby? He couldn’t even take care of the laundry, let alone another person. Great! Now she needed to take care of this, too.

“I’ve thought that he could handle this!” Mark protested fervently while wincing a bit from the force Yukhei was using on him to not fall ahead.

“You’re lucky that it’s Friday, so both of us are at home tomorrow, because I wouldn’t fully trust you with a drunk person after this,” Lara remarked a bit more harshly than she would have intended to, but one thing was for sure: Mark was a terrible drunk person, and he was even worse at treating anyone who was drunk.

“Why are you raising your voice, young lady?” The duke found this as the perfect time to speak up, looking down at the girl, his hazy eyes meeting her weary ones.

His innocent, almost baby-like stare made her tense shoulders let loose a bit, but it didn’t mean that she was reassured. It only meant that he had enough of an affectionate stare that she didn’t have the heart to be mad at him. It was as if she had tried to reprimand a puppy that looked at her with those warm, loving eyes. He might have been from a different country, but he sure made her feel odd things whenever she caught his glance.

“Let me help,” she offered with a bit of a bitter smile as she walked to Yukhei’s side and flung his arm over her shoulder, helping Mark not to carry him to the mattress all by himself.

It was a difficult task anyway, but somehow they managed to put him down onto the mattress without letting him fall over, and Lara thought that it was already an achievement. It was even more so because the duke drifted off to sleep the moment she wanted to start lecturing him, so she couldn’t reprimand him but at least he didn’t talk more either.

Mark was quick to leave the scene, saying that he was going to take a shower, and Lara didn’t feel like staying either. After all, Yukhei was sleeping, why would she bother? However, she couldn’t help but wonder while looking at the soundlessly sleeping duke that he must have been more shaken up by the world around him than they were because of his presence. He must have been more disturbed than he would have shown, and she couldn’t help but think how lost he must have felt. After all, until a day ago, he hadn’t even known that he had been practically sent off to another continent, so that his father shouldn’t have to bring him up.

Lara stood up from crouching after such a thought, walked to her own room to get her extra blanket out of the wardrobe and went back to the sleeping boy and put it over his body. She looked at him for another minute, watching as his chest rose up and down slowly and calmly, the dreamworld taking care of him for now. Then, she left the room to mind her own business, but she couldn’t deny that she couldn’t get his sleeping figure out of her head for a while.

The next morning was a quiet one until Yukhei woke up. Lara had finished making hangover soup for the boy while Mark was chilling in his bed, not wanting to get up. However, when the dude woke up, he also got out of his bed, so with the two of them coming out of Mark’s bedroom, Lara’s morning was suddenly filled with chatter and laughter.

The duke didn’t seem too down after the previous night’s drunk antics, but she wanted to make sure that his body was also doing okay, so she put the bowl of steaming soup in front of him, telling him to eat up before digging into her own breakfast which consisted of banana and chocolate oatmeal for that day.

“Lady, tell me about yourself,” Yukhei spoke up between two bites, his voice coming out a bit hoarse. Lara almost choked on her oatmeal, taken aback by the duke’s abrupt and seemingly random question.

“What do you mean by that?”

“What are your dreams? What are you doing for a living? What do your parents do? Such topics,” the boy explained with a genuine smile, looking right into her eyes. It would have been fine if he hadn’t looked so adorable with his messy hair that was nothing like the one he had wanted to display the first time they had met. In a loose shirt and grey sweatpants which they had purchased the day before, with his hair being a total mess, he seemed like one of them - he seemed as if he was a mere twenty-something who was struggling through uni exams and first loves.

Mark found the duke’s questioning pretty amusing, sending her a cheeky glance as if he was still pretty sure that Yukhei had been her boyfriend and he had walked out on them doing some of their lovey-dovey business when he had just fallen from the sky two days before. Lara merely kicked Mark’s shin in return, making him yelp to which Yukhei started asking what was wrong with him.

“I’m currently a business student at the local university and I wish to become a businesswoman in the future, maybe have my own business. My parents are pretty ordinary, mom is a secretary while dad is a Physics teacher. I also have a little sister,” she chattered in a rather neutral tone because she didn’t really think that her life could be anything close to interesting to a duke like him. It didn’t seem to be the case to Yukhei.

“Is your sister like you?”

“No.” She shook her head fervently, a bitter smile painting her lips. “My little sister is the complete opposite of me, so she’s the favoured one at home. My parents are absolutely in love with her, they adore her,” she added honestly, exchanging a glance with Mark who became all too quiet. He knew how was it like with her and her family, but of course the duke had no idea.

“Why is she the favoured one? I do not believe that there is anything wrong with you,” he elaborated with a concerned look, his words making her heart churn. How could he still be so innocent and warm-hearted when his father had practically abandoned him and had sent his mother away?

“My little sister is very likable. She’s chatty, she’s extroverted, she’s sociable, has a strong will and shares similar interests with my parents while I’m more on the shy and introverted side and I’ve never really had any topic to talk about with my parents,” she confessed.

However, as she looked at the boy, she immediately felt her heart sink because all she could see was pain and disappointment and confusion. She felt as if he had been angry and frustrated for her and if he could have just stood up from the table and do something, he would do so. Tiny little stars of affection were shining brightly on the sky of his chestnut brown orbs, shimmering mesmerized, making her a bit dizzy.

“I believe you are a very good person. Regardless of what your family thinks about you,” Yukhei broke the silence and the eye-contact with her, looking down at his soup and taking a huge sip from it.

Lara felt a bit suffocated all of a sudden, not knowing what to do with herself. Did this duke who had known nothing about her defend her? Did he just tell her something that she wished she could have heard so many times before? How could he detect something like this? How could he sense her true feelings?

Or he might have been just lucky to say the right things. Who knew?

“Anyway, let’s talk about what we should do with you,” she told to Yukhei but Mark’s eyebrows were also raised. “I mean, obviously you are someone from the past, so you have nowhere to go. We have enough space here, you can stay, but you really should get yourself a job or do something because we might not be able to pay for your share as well. I mean, we are already on student loans,” she explained a bit nervously, but her rational part might not have been her worst part. After all, it would probably save them this time from further headache, so that was good, right?

“I think I could get him a job,” Mark chirped in gleefully. “I mean, not me, but Johnny. You know he works at that café not far from the uni. He has mentioned that they are short on people, so I might be able to convince him to get Yukhei in,” he suggested with a wide smile, and upon seeing the glance they shared with the said boy, Lara had a feeling that Yukhei had met Johnny the previous night.

“Do you think that would be okay? Wouldn’t Johnny want to have his documents and such?” she inquired, biting down on her lower lip. There were so many things wrong with the fact that the boy sitting in front of her should have been long dead, therefore he had no ID, no residence, nothing… He was practically a historical person to the rest of the world meant to be dead by now.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry. He’s already believed that Yukhei has escaped from his crazy family in the UK and now he’s here to start a new life, so maybe if I just ask him not to look for his documents, I think he wouldn’t oppose,” Mark reassured her with a wide smile as he always did when she got worked up and totally worried by something, and she only needed that smile of his and she felt like the world was a bit of a better place.

“Do not worry, lady. I will make myself useful,” Yukhei added with a charming smile to which she couldn’t help but blush a bit.

“Please, you don’t have to call me lady. Lara is perfectly fine,” she pointed out, embarrassed to be called like a woman in her 40s a few decades ago.

“Lady Lara then…”

“No, just Lara is okay,” she corrected him, Yukhei nodding to her words seriously. Mark had a blast listening to their little conversation and his cheeky grin only earned another kick in his shin. This time, Yukhei nearly fell over the boy when he wanted to examine the source of his pain but Mark said that it was just some kind of a seasonal pain in his leg, nothing that he should worry about.

Hearing that, Yukhei retreated to his seat and to his breakfast much to the delight of Lara and the reassurance of Mark.

It was indeed not easy with someone who had been from a different century.

Wong Yukhei had known how to ride a horse, he had read many more books than Lara and Mark had ever read combined, he had known how to speak eloquently and he had known how to conduct a debate as professionally as if it had been what he had been doing all his life. He had his way with words that seemed sometimes overly polite and unnecessarily sugarcoated, he even had a walk of someone royal and he would have preferred shirts and suits over T-shirts and jeans but he would have looked too much like a fancy lawyer if he had looked like that all the time.

He had needed to be told what the internet is, what a cellphone is, he had needed to be shown how to use the tv, the toast maker, the microwave, even the lights in the bathroom that only lit up when someone entered the room, so he didn’t need to try and turn them off by himself (he had tried and it hadn’t gone well). He had needed to be shown the new kinds of foods and drinks, he had needed to be told about today’s trends and how universities and university classes had worked.

He had been curious though, ever so eager to learn about this whole new world, and if anything, his enthusiasm and open-mindedness had made Lara admire him even more. She wasn’t sure that she would have been able to be so okay with a whole different world that was more advanced and probably more odd than the one he had been a part of before.

So may it be because he had indeed been from a different century and he had a very different mindset, but he had definitely put her mind at ease a lot of times: when she had made a mistake, when someone had cat-called her on the streets, when she had been the one to do all the work during a group work and such occasions. Yukhei had seemed to have a few reassuring words to say every single time, and they had been like remedy to her tired heart. This crazy and busy world that was built on criticism, disapproval, insane expectations and useless competition should have definitely made a lot of use of his knowledge.

So she shouldn’t have been that surprised that Yukhei had his opinion on beauty and the beauty standards these days as he had accompanied Lara to go jogging in the nearby park and he had been dumbfounded by the number of people who had been there and whom he had caught sight of exercising, not to mention the weight loss ads on the billboards and such. Lara explained to him that nowadays everyone was obsessed with weight and dieting, the society telling everyone that they were never enough, they could never be good enough or successful enough or thin enough.

“There’s no such thing as ideal beauty. People are beautiful because they are different,” Yukhei mused out loud, keeping his eyes on the girl who felt suddenly so small and insignificant.

There was definitely a different kind of aura to him whenever he was talking so seriously, and Lara caught herself being immersed in the colour of his eyes, the curve of his lips and the slight curliness of his locks at times like this. She was trying to tell herself that it was only because he had been someone completely out of their world, but she couldn’t deny that Yukhei had a whole different effect on her than most boys did.

“I think a lot of people would be happy to hear that,” she remarked instead, averting her eyes to the lake in the middle of the park.

“You included?” Yukhei asked gently, his words almost a whisper. The way he ever so softly asked such a question made her heart skip a beat. How could someone so pure yet intellectual ever exist? Chivalry may not have been dead, but she only knew about it because of a boy who had been from the 1840s.

“Yes, me included.” She nodded, a bitter smile painting her lips.

Who was perfectly satisfied with their looks nowadays? People tended to believe what they had heard if they had heard it so many times, and she had had her fair share of ups and downs regarding her body image, not to mention the criticism from her own parents. It had been really difficult for her to start loving herself and her body when she had only gotten nasty remarks on her looks. Though thanks to a best friend like Mark Lee, she had been almost reborn from all those critics.

“Well then…” Yukhei broke the momentary silence, and there was something in his voice that made her turn her head in his direction. “I am telling you that you are beautiful in your own way,” he confessed genuinely, lips curling upwards into a gentle, loving smile.

Lara found it difficult to breathe for a moment, her lips parting slightly at the force the words would have wanted to escape her mouth. Yet, her heart was so weak and so very fragile in that moment that she felt like she wouldn’t be able to get across what she really wanted to say. Because it was hard to put into words the way her heart warmed upon hearing his words, the way she was filled up with a giddy feeling as she was keeping the eye-contact with him and the way his beautiful star-filled eyes took her breath away.

“Thank you,” she mumbled instead, hands reaching to tuck a loose strand of her behind her ear. She didn’t consider herself a bashful person but beside Wong Yukhei, she seemed to be more shy than ever before.

“Anytime,” the duke replied with a smile that would be able to bring all the shiniest of stars to the canvas of the pitch-black sky and make it as bright as possible, bringing hope and love for a new day, for the time when the sun would rise and the next morning would arrive.

That was who he was though: a boy stuck in a new world but having the manners of a true duke, words as elegant as if they were hand-crafted, gestures genuine and polite, eyes beautiful like the blooming flowers in spring, smiles heartwarming like the sight of the setting sun on the horizon and presence as much of a remedy as a plaster on her wounded heart.

Soon, Yukhei’s presence didn’t seem that odd anymore, and they fell into a new, different routine given that the duke had started working at the café Mark had mentioned, and so with his shift and Mark and Lara’s university classes, they needed to calculate who would be at home and when. Yet, since it had been complicated to always try to arrange things, so that someone would let Yukhei into the house, they had decided to give a key to the boy as well and tell him the password to the alarm system.

Lara had tried her best to be rational about the situation and she had had many sleepless nights pondering how they could make Yukhei’s story as believable as possible but they couldn’t have just gone to the immigration office and tell them that he was a man from the XIXth century and ask for some documents with which he could actually be considered a legal person in the country.

Anyway, she had decided to not sweat the small stuff since it wasn’t that likely for the police to come and knock on their door, asking for Yukhei’s documents, and since he had seemed to be doing well at the café and they hadn’t really cared about his background due to his connection to Johnny, she had tried to be at ease with the fact that a duke from 200 years ago had landed on their grass one day and had stayed with them ever since. Not like she would want to get rid of him, of course not.

She had grown fond of the way the boy’s eyes widened whenever he had heard some kind of a new information, the way his mellow lips curled into a sunshine-like smile whenever he had succeeded at making anything from an edible omelette to fixing Mark’s bicycle, the way he had ever so quickly tried to help whenever she had gone grocery shopping and had arrived at the flat with more bags than needed, the way he had such a different mindset from anyone she had ever met and the way him and Mark had seemed to be so casual and playful around each other. It had been enough for her to just look at their interactions and it had already made her days.

As time went by, Yukhei had seemed more and more confident using modern technology and getting used to his new life, but may it be because of his workload or the fact that he had been used to a whole different world, but Lara hadn’t been that surprised when he had first fallen ill.

At first, he hadn’t really had an appetite during breakfast and since he had been such a big eater, she had been suspicious, yet when he had come home from work and he had been as pale as the white walls around him, Lara had immediately ordered him to rest while she would be making some soup for him.

That’s how she ended up in Mark’s room while Mark was away for an evening class, overlooking Yukhei as he was trying to consume her soup as much as possible. She glanced at him, worry taking over her. What if this was all too much for him? After all, he must have been living not only a totally different life as a duke who had been shipped off to a whole different country while being fed lies, but also he must have been having different climate, different economy, different transportation, different everything back then. He hadn’t even worked all his life before taking on this job at the café.

She sat on her heels beside the boy and smiled at him fondly when he handed her the empty bowl. She placed it on the ground and watched as he made himself comfortable on his mattress, covering himself with his blanket, his chestnut brown eyes not leaving her face.

She felt a bit uncomfortable under the intense gaze of the boy, but he looked so pale and so weak, she couldn’t even think about leaving him alone. Mark had always been the chatty and overdramatic sick, she had always felt like playing his mother whenever he had fallen ill, yet he couldn’t have shut up and complain about everything from the flavour of the soup she had made him or the coldness of the tea she had handed him for drinking. On the other hand, Yukhei was totally quiet, eyelids heavy, all the colours drained from his face, yet he didn’t seem like he wanted to go to sleep.

“Would you sing something to me?” he asked suddenly, his voice coming out raspy. As he blinked at her with his big doe eyes, she didn’t find the will in herself to go against his wish, so even though she didn’t consider herself a good singer, she decided to sing a song to him, one that was close to her heart and one that she had been listening to a lot when she was down.

“It sounds like you are still woeful,” Yukhei concluded after a moment of silence when she finished her song, and she let her lips curl a tad bit upwards hearing his words.

“A bit.” She nodded, letting out a long, weary sigh. “I’ve broken up with my boyfriend a few months ago and sometimes it still hurts,” she admitted, averting her eyes elsewhere but the boy’s face. She was so afraid that he would look through her, look into her heart and soul that she didn’t dare to look at him. That didn’t mean that he was of the same opinion.

“He must be woeful, too,” Yukhei whispered gently, and it was so pure of him to think that her ex-boyfriend had still been thinking about her. Her ex had already been thinking about someone else when they had still been dating, so that was probably not the case.

“I’m pretty sure he’s not. He was the one who broke up with me.”

“He should be woeful,” Yukhei insisted nevertheless, and he said it with such pain and hurt that Lara couldn’t help but look back at him. “He has lost a beautiful soul,” he whispered ever so affectionately and her breath was caught in her throat.

She needed to fight back the tears that were about to surface because she had felt so guilty for trusting her ex-boyfriend and she had hated herself so much for not seeing the signs in time. She hadn’t even thought about being someone who hadn’t been worthy of her ex-boyfriend’s cheating, she had just blamed and blamed herself, yet there was this boy who had known nothing about her relationship and made her see the whole story from a whole different perspective. While Mark was the frustrated, wanting to punch that guy kind of friend when he had heard about their break-up, Yukhei’s response was gentle, pure and loving.

Yukhei then reached for her hands that were resting on her thighs and held them as if he was afraid that she would run away if he didn’t anchor her, and the look they exchanged said it all: all those stars on the sky of his chestnut brown orbs, all the little diamonds shining in the jewelry box of his soul and all those memories hidden underneath all his polite actions and all those casual smiles. He was being honest, the only question that was left was whether he felt the same kind of love towards her than she had done so towards him?

As promised, Lara decided to visit the café Yukhei worked at with Johnny, and since Mark was the one who always hang out at this café and she had never been there before, the two of them went together on a fine Wednesday afternoon when they both finished with their class at the same time.

When they arrived, Yukhei was busy taking orders and didn’t look their way, so they found an unoccupied table for themselves and sat down. Mark couldn’t stop grinning from the moment they stepped into the place, and even if he was a cheerful and smiley guy in general, she took it upon herself to ask about the reason behind his sudden burst of joy.

“Why are you grinning like that?”

“Oh, it’s nothing…” He shrugged his shoulders, but she saw through him. As she kept her eyes on him, he put his elbows down on the table and leaned closer to her as if he was sharing secret. “I was just wondering how easily you gave in to visit this café now that Yukhei also works here. Before, you never really wanted to come even though Johnny also works here,” he pointed out oh so cheekily, and she felt the need to wipe that grin off his face. Sometimes his honesty was a true blessing while other times it backfired and she didn’t actually enjoy being hit by his bullets.

“Well, two reasons are more than just one,” she tried to respond as witty as possible, but she knew that he was right, and that knowing smirk of his said it all, too.

“I’m just saying that I’ve noticed that you’ve softened towards this very gentleman from a different century, and I guess there’s more to you being here than just having two reasons that are more than just one, so I’m just wondering why you’ve never told him that you actually li-” he chattered endlessly as Yukhei was approaching their table and just when he was about to say the word she had been afraid to say out loud (it would have been even worse if the duke had misunderstood the situation), she kicked her best friend in the shin again - gently but still powerful enough for him to focus on the pain instead of his initial sentence. “Ouch!”

“Hey, are you alright, Mark?” Yukhei inquired with a worried smile as he saw Mark holding onto his leg.

“Yeah, yeah, sure. Must be because of those years when I was playing football,” he gritted through his teeth accompanied by a nervous laughter and a glare exchanged with Lara. She merely smiled sweetly at him, putting on a poker face as if she knew nothing.

“What can I get for you then?” Yukhei continued after making sure that the boy was doing fine, and Mark was quick to move on and make his order.

“I want-”

“Ladies first!” The duke reminded him ever so confidently and while it would have been fine under any other circumstances, Yukhei’s polite manners only added more fuel to the fire that Mark had started before, his smirk deepening as he watched closely the interaction between Lara and Yukhei.

“I would like a caramel frappe,” she decided after looking at the menu for a bit and turned to the boy with a soft smile. The way Yukhei looked back at her was ever so eager and ever so joyful, that beaming smile of his was truly one kind of a sight to behold. It was the kind of smile that made someone’s day a little brighter just by looking at it, and she would have been able to get lost in his beautiful smile and even more beautiful chestnut brown orbs if it hadn’t been for this slightly uncomfortable situation and the watching gaze of her best friend’s.

“And I want a latte macchiato,” Mark spoke up when Yukhei jotted down her order and turned to him.

“I will be right back,” the waiter boy promised with the widest smile possible and walked away from their table. Both of them looked as he giddily made his way between tables and between the gazes of other female customers.

Lara couldn’t not notice how the other girls looked in the boy’s direction, and even if she had wanted to turn a blind eye and not care about it, her heart had already abandoned her and didn’t let her have a peace of mind. Why was she jealous about them though? Not like she had been Yukhei’s girlfriend. Not like the duke hadn’t been as polite with everyone as he had been with her and Mark. It was just who he was, and while it was probably fluttering for anyone to be so respected and cared for, she was sure that he would have done the same with anyone else.

“Now I know why Johnny says that he’s popular with the girls.” Mark let out a whistle as he looked in the boy’s direction who had walked back to the counter. No matter how much she would have wanted to deny something like this, she couldn’t have gone against his words.

“I’m not surprised. He’s a real charmer after all.” Lara shrugged her shoulders, wanting to move on from the topic but Mark just couldn’t let it slide.

“In a good way or in a bad way?”

“Girls like when a boy is as polite as him, so I’m pretty sure his manners leave an impression on the female customers,” she elaborated while keeping the eye-contact with her best friend, not backing away from the slight tug of war he had triggered. While he had been inquiring and sending her gazes these days, it was the first time he had oh so casually dropped such comments. Maybe it was because this was the first time she really did something that made him question her emotions towards the duke.

“Did he leave an impression on you, too?” Mark quirked an eyebrow in question, cheekiness tinting his cheeks a shade of pink. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting out a weary sigh.

“Why does that matter, Mark?”

“I’m just curious, that’s all.” He waved his hands in front of him as if he was trying to brush aside the accusation that anything other than curiosity must have been behind his question. “Plus, he’s a lot better than your douchebag of a guy ex-boyfriend,” he blurted out casually but when he saw that expression on her face, he immediately sucked in a deep breath. “You know what I mean. It’s not your fault that he has cheated on you,” he added gently, his voice a bit timid after his previous cheekiness.

Though Lara knew that he meant nothing bad by bringing up her ex-boyfriend and comparing him to Yukhei because Yukhei was really nothing like that jerk. If anything, he was the complete opposite of him, and she knew that if nothing horrific happens to the duke, then he would probably stay the same kind of guy with a big, golden heart and that wide smile of his.

Yukhei came just at this time to bring their orders and when he put the drinks down on the table, he noticed the sudden change in the mood.

“Why are you both so woeful?” he asked, his big doe eyes wide in worry. Mark merely let out a laughter in response and hearing her best friend’s words, she herself couldn’t help but smile at the boys’ conversation.

“Dude, why do you always say woeful?” Mark asked between two giggles to which Yukhei reacted in the same way.

“I do not know. Maybe it is because of my past,” he admitted giddily and stayed a bit more at their table, Mark teasing him about his choice of words while Lara was trying to defend the duke by saying that he was merely using an extensive vocabulary much to Mark’s delight because he sure took it as a sign that she felt more towards the boy than he would have liked to admit.

However, Mark didn’t bring up the topic until they were heading home and leaving Yukhei to focus on his work after both of them had drank their coffees and talked through everything that had been left out due to the fact that they had been busy with their classes.

“You know, I’m not teasing you with a bad intention. I just want to see you happy,” Mark confessed, a friendly smile painting his lips. Lara turned to him, a grateful one taking place on her own lips.

“I know, and I’m very thankful for that. You are the bestest best friend anyone could ask for.”

“Of course, I know that,” the boy replied playfully and she smacked him in chest but only because she knew that he wouldn’t get mad at her. He would never. They had been through so much together that such childish acts could never be able to set them apart.

Living with Yukhei was definitely a fun one, but since he had such a golden heart and he tried to be as polite with everyone as possible, it was difficult for Lara to decide if he felt more towards her or he was merely being a real gentleman. She tried to look for signs and possible red flags, yet she had to realize after a while that she didn’t really see how he acted towards other girls and if he did, it was during working hours, so as a waiter, of course, he needed to be polite.

Needless to say, Mark kept glancing in her direction every time Yukhei made breakfast for them and he put down the plate in front of her or whenever Yukhei asked if she craved tea when she got home from an evening class. They had started to get to know each other’s habits and preferences, and while Mark had gotten the duke into eating cereal for breakfast, she was the one who drank green tea with the duke and talked about books they had read. Having book discussions had never seemed more fun, and truth to be told, Lara could see a whole new side of this boy, of someone who was so intellectual and so open-minded, it really warmed her heart.

With every conversation they had, with every glance they shared, with every interaction they had no matter if it was him helping her out with the dishes or their arms brushing together at the dinner table, she felt like falling for him more and more, and it was the kind of uncertain, slight yet continuous falling that she had been so afraid of. She was terrified of uncertainty, terrified of having her heart broken again and terrified of questioning her worth yet again.

On the other hand, it was crazy. Yukhei was the softest, most caring, most heartwarming person, and he would never be able to hurt her. At least, not intentionally, that was for sure.

So when Mark had once mentioned that according to Yukhei’s historical profile page the boy’s birthday was coming up, she had decided to put off her questions regarding Yukhei’s feelings and they had started working on preparing a little surprise party for him. They had been sure that he would be touched anyway because birthday parties hadn’t really been a thing back then as he had confessed when they had been watching tv once.

However, they hadn’t expected that after the boy’s initial shock and bewilderment when he saw all those balloons in the tiny living room of theirs and the birthday cake they had made together with Mark, he would burst into tears.

“Oh bro, don’t cry! I’ll cry, too,” Mark mentioned jokingly but Lara knew all too well that he was being totally serious. He was the type of person who cried every single time someone cried around him.

“It’s just…” Yukhei tried to find the right words between two nervous giggles, wiping off his tears. It was so heartwarming how someone from a different century who had slowly found his place in this whole new world - getting used to its customs and advanced devices and getting used to using informal speech more often than not - seemed totally touched by something so simple as a little birthday party. “No one has ever done anything like this for me,” he admitted coyly as he kept looking at Mark and Lara back and forth.

“Dude, you have us now. We’ll do it every year, don’t worry!” Mark stepped closer to him to pat his shoulder and directed a wide smile at him.

“Mark’s right. You deserve it,” she added genuinely, fighting back the urge to shed a few tears. The way Yukhei looked back at them was worth all the stress they had had over the birthday cake’s making, over the preparations and the actual gift she had come up with, but when he hugged them both at the same time, it really felt like not only Yukhei but all three of them had found their place a bit better.

“Alright, enough of being mushy. Let’s eat the cake now!” Mark announced to break the sentimental mood and everyone let out an airy laughter afterwards.

After that, they all sat down by the table to eat from the cake that had actually turned out better than either of them could have expected. While eating, Yukhei kept asking about the way people celebrated birthdays nowadays, and what was appropriate to wish for as he blew the candles and what was not. He even told them that he had wished that Mark and Lara could be the happiest people on Earth even though Mark had told him that he should have kept it a secret. Yukhei merely laughed it off with that adorable laugh of his, and Lara couldn’t help but wish for the same for him. And for things to stay the way they were because it was perfect in her opinion.

It was really fun, Lara didn’t even know if she had ever had such a fun birthday party with only just three people but the number really didn’t matter, it mattered more whom she was with. Time passed by quickly, and it was Mark first who decided to go and take a shower before retreating to bed, leaving Lara and Yukhei by themselves.

“Thank you for the birthday party and your gift. It really means a lot to me,” Yukhei told her yet again, keeping his chestnut brown eyes on hers.

“I just hoped you would like it,” she confessed coyly, thinking back to the days she had been thinking over and over what she could get him. Since Mark had decided on clothes (he had been the one who had first accompanied him, thus he knew Yukhei’s basic sizes), she wanted to come up with something more personal, and so she had decided to buy a book on generation Z and their way of thinking, hoping it would shed some light to him on how people around her and Mark were thinking and acting in general.

They just kept gazing at each other without saying a word, and Lara felt so shy under that gaze of his. Her heart was threatening to jump out of her ribcage and she was trying hard to not to let her erratic breathing be shown. There was just something in the way he looked at her so closely, so affectionately, so hopefully that she felt like she could even get him the stars if he just kept looking at her like that. It was crazy. Since when did she feel something so intensively?

She was glad when it was the boy who decided to break the silence first.

“I have a question, but I’m not sure if it’s inappropriate to ask, so I’ve asked Mark and he said that it is,” Yukhei started and bit into his lower lip. He looked at her under his long, delicate eyelashes, and no matter how nervous she was, she encouraged him to speak his mind.

“So my question is…” Yukhei stopped and took in a deep breath, making her heart pick up its speed. She gulped nervously, waiting for the continuation. “Would you like to go on a date with me?” he blurted out without further hesitation, and her heart literally skipped a beat, her lips parted upon hearing the question.

“Yes, I’d like to,” she said almost immediately, not even believing that she had just said the words out loud, but seeing the boy’s wide, reassured smile just made her more certain that she had made the right choice. Why wouldn’t she say no anyway? She liked everything with him.

She liked living with him, she liked having him around, she liked bumping into him when she was coming out of the bathroom and he was having his third midnight snack of the day, she liked listening to his stories that showed the true colour of him, she liked watching him as he oh so intriguingly watched tv, she liked eating his omelette that had now become a trademark breakfast of his and she just liked being beside him or watching as he slept safe and sound. She liked him and to know that he liked her back, there was no better feeling.

So even if he was a duke from a different century, even if he was a very different boy from anyone she had ever met before, she knew that her heart was in safe hands with him, and dating such a boy was really one kind of a ride, a fun, heartwarming and sweet one - accompanied by supportive friends such as Mark and shippers like Johnny. He might have been struck by lighting but maybe life had decided to give him another chance and it was to have a whole new life and a whole new meaning with Lara by his side.

[captivesrp]

Ashrille sits cross-legged on a log underneath a thick canopy of ancient trees. Smoke rises up from the clay bowl sitting on the soft ground below her. She is burning some herbs she had recently found in the hollowed trunk of a tree, seeing if they held any uses. She has been doing this long enough to be able to tell just from the smell of the smoke.

As the aroma promises nothing of use, she runs her hand through her tangled, dark brown hair, combing a few twigs out of the mess. She sullenly rests her chin in her palm and stares at the fading embers in the bowl. Struck by a thought, she carefully leans over and takes the bowl in her soft hands, shaking it. The moment the leaves rustle they let out an aroma that sets Ashrille’s nose on fire. She coughs and smothers out the flame, sure now that they will come of some use. She puts the leaves in her satchel and steps off the log.

She meanders down a dark, self-made path. The sun filtering through the trees speckles the path with light, warmth tickling her skin as she walks through the larger patches. A branch snags her hair. She’s grown tall in her twelfth year; it’s becoming a pain to traverse the forest.

The path leads to the back of her humble abode: a pile of twigs and logs, cemented together with pasty byproducts of different herbs. A large, burgundy cloth is spread over the top, coated with more herb products, this time a mostly invisible hydrophobic combination. She enters it and sets her bowl on top of a sturdy wooden table inside. The shack, as it could be accurately described as being, is lit by holes in the sheet overlaying it, a small lantern hanging over her worktable, and some bioluminescent mushrooms she is growing in the corner. An exotic assortment of plants, herbs, and dried meats hang from the ceiling, slowly drying and becoming ready for use.

Ashrille spreads herself across her bed, her nose still tingling from the leaves. She lies there for a while, motionless, before sitting up and searching for a container beneath her bed. She finds a hollowed out tree limb about half full of a purple compound. She takes the container outside to a small, clear pond just beyond her home.

She looks at herself in the reflection in the pond. She reminds herself of her mother. Carefully, she applies the compound to her face, drawing sharp, complicated designs that highlight her dark, piercing eyes and features. She also applies the dye in similar patterns to her bare arms and legs. She is the nearby village’s herbalist, after all: she might as well look the part. She’s jarred from her artist’s trance by the sound of footsteps coming from the path that leads from the village. She takes her container and scurries back to her shack, where she scrambles to find her staff. It is a long darkwood branch with a young buck’s skull loosely fixed upon its top. She had come across the sun-bleached skull on one of her many foraging walks, and carries the staff mainly for appearances.

Ashrille hears shouting, an older woman calling out for her.

The skull on her staff rattles as she exits her shack. The woman waiting for her is Gelga, the wife of the village’s head wolf trainer.

“What do you need, Gelga?” When addressing villagers, Ashrille tries to sound as mysterious and foreboding as she can, and she has gotten rather good at it. Some of the village children even call her a witch now. “Is it the dogs or is it your son?”

Gelga is a frumpy woman, plump and dough faced. She is delightful, however, and often brings Ashrille food in the evenings. Despite looking worried, she smiles warmly. “Well, Hogart iz low on dat deworming stuff, but I do need ya to come with me to see my son. I can’t really describe what he’s ailing with.”

Ashrille nods sagely before turning dramatically and entering her shack. She takes deliberate time to find the wolves’ medication as well as some remedies for general illness, and places them in her satchel. She also dons a cowl, complete with a small, hidden headpiece that hold two small antlers that emerge from the hood. The cowl is made from the same burgundy material that covers her home.

Gelga leads the way to town. The villagers make sure that the path to Ashrille’s home is clear and simple to follow; despite their efforts, however, a dark canopy overhangs the path and wayward roots curl to trip careless passersby. The path leads from the forest into a grassy field that surrounds the village of Oxmouth. Ashrille always finds it interesting that neither the grassland nor the forest grow or shrink over time; the treeline has always been where it is now, according to the elders of the village.

Oxmouth is a short distance over the grassland and it is in sight as soon as Ashrille and Gelga leave the treeline.

The majority of Oxmouth is made up of simple wood houses with straw roofs. The village is arranged in a circular pattern surrounding a market ground at its center. The entire village is at the top of a large coastal bluff. On one side of the village is a sheer drop into the ocean; on another side is the dark, foreboding forest Ashrille calls home; and on its third side is a steep embankment, zigzagged by a path up to the village. If you take your time, the village can be easily reached via this path, but if you rush you will find yourself back at the bottom in no time. Or with an arrow in your chest. Either one.

Village children sit atop the roofbeams of houses, either lazily chatting or firing arrows just to see how far they go. Those living in or near Oxmouth for any amount of time get used to stray arrows landing uncomfortably nearby rather often. Ashrille sees no problem with it. The more accidents involving arrows the more she is appreciated as the village healer.

As they near the village Ashrille feels the eyes of the children on her. Some days she enjoys the fear and mystery that she inspires in the youth. Other days, she wishes they would not stare so much.

Ashrille follows Gelga through the village center to the kennels on the other edge of the village. Ashrille notices that there is a small following of children and a few concerned adults behind them.

The kennels resound with the yaps and barks of puppies. Hogart stands in the doorway of his house, which is connected to the kennels. Most of the nearby villages raise hounds and dogs for hunting and other uses, but Hogart’s kennels are different, raising a breed of wolf that naturally resides deep in the forest where Ashrille lives. They grow massive and, given Hogart’s intelligent touch, loyal. Warriors from other villages of their tribe sometimes come to Oxmouth searching for these beasts. Other times a lonely wanderer will come for a puppy and leave just a little less lonely.

Gelga goes ahead of Ashrille and talks to Hogart in whispers. Hogart is a large man, covered in scars. Some are probably not even from the wolves. His tangled beard and bulging muscles make him seem intimidating but, from what Ashrille has seen, he has a heart of gold.

“Ashe! So wonderful to see you!” the man booms, turning from his wife.

The man nearly doubles Ashrille’s height as he approaches. She rummages in her bag and pulls out some large, deep green leaves. “Grind these and mix them into your dogs’ meals. The worms should be out in a week. In two weeks, do it again and they’ll be out for a good while.”

Hogart laughs heartily and takes the leaves. “Thank ye, lass!” His face darkens some. “Could ye tend to my son now?”

Ashrille nods. “Lead me to him.” She takes care to make sure that neither the antlers on her head nor the antlers on her staff get caught on anything as Hogart leads her inside.

The house is not expansive, being just one central room with two rooms attached to it. It smells just like the food that Gelga brings Ashrille on occasion. Hogart leads Ashrille to one of the rooms and opens the door.

“He’s in there,” Hogart says quietly. “I’ll wait here.”

The room is dark and smells sickly. A lantern in the corner lights the room dimly. Ashrille can see just enough to notice the pale boy lying in the middle of the room, his breathing fast and irregular.

She kneels down beside the boy and sets her satchel down. She sits back on her heels and places her hand on his head. His forehead burns her hand. She places her fingers on his neck and feels his racing pulse. His breathing is rapid and raspy. Acting on impulse she lifts up the blanket covering him and looks at his ankle where she finds two punctures, accented by thin trails of blood.

Ashrille takes her clay bowl out of her satchel before rummaging through the bag. She takes out a choice few components and grinds them with a bent knuckle inside the bowl. With a quick flick of flint and steel, the ground leaves begin to smolder. As the herbs’ aroma replaces the sickly stench, Ashrille stands and sees Hogart and Gelga peering through the door.

“Does your son go into the forest often?” Ashrille asks.

Gelga and Hogart look at each other. Hogart rubs his chin, “Eh, somewhat often, I suppose. I have ’im take some of the older wolves on walks thataways.”

Ashrille nods. “Ah, well, make sure he wears higher boots if he goes from now on.”

Gelga sighs heavily. “Are ye saying he’ll be fine?”

“Yeah, he’ll be fine in some time.” Ashrille shrugs. “I’m just going to take care of the bite so it’s not infected and I’ll give you some things to grind and put into water for him to ingest.”

Gelga wipes her brow in relief. “Ashe, thank ye so much! I’ll go prepare some food for ye to take home.”

Ashrille smiles and nods before turning her attention back to her patient. The boy’s eyes are open and he is staring at her. She is momentarily startled, but gets to work anyways, kneeling again by her satchel.

“Are ye that witch?”

The words sting more than Ashrille anticipated. The boy cannot be much younger than she is; if she had been raised in the village, they may have been friends.

“If I am?” She wets a fuzzy leaf with her tongue.

He just stares at her silently.

“This’ll hurt, but I ain’t killing ye,” Ashrille warns.

She presses the leaf against the boy’s ankle. A soft sizzle can be heard as the wound disinfects and the boy clenches the mat beneath him and wheezes heavily before passing out.

“Maybe I did kill ye.” She chuckles as she gathers her things and watches his breathing normalize.

Gelga sends Ashrille off with freshly baked goods and a package of dried fish. After returning home, Ashrille spends the remainder of her day as she always does: fiddling with herbs and plants until she falls upon her bed in exhaustion and dreams of more herbs and plants.