#I do go soft on my judgement of young writers though

[spiderwarden]

Asking for perspective of Minthara because I love hearing the writer's headcanons: does she treat all males as lesser, or just specifically male drow? And if the latter, why does she view males of other races as better than males of her own race?

oohh! OOOHH! my first anon! helloooo! pull up a chair, get comfortable. i have frybread, i have treats, go on - stay. pspsspspspps. *traps you in a box* .. im gonna keep you now. and love you.

She has an automatic critical association with all male people. From what I've observed her critical thinking has her automatically coming into the conversation persay with a negative attitude. But this is also where first impressions come into play because Minthara - much to her credit, will observe first before making a full judgment on one's character. I imagine in her younger years, there was nothing BUT automatic disdain that was entirely based off of their birth order. But experience and gained intellect often makes one more ... considerate (as we all do in our youth and growing out of said youth.)

Now, note I say more critical of men, but she will wait to case a judgement and it is due to those first impressions that she will decide whether or not said man is worth learning more about in terms of character and qualities. Let's take a look at Shadowheart and Wyll for instance, or even Gale. All three characters in some way abandoned by some force bigger than themselves. The kneejerk response that she starts with is what is better for Shadowheart, her state of mind, and the choice that she has between what is good for their entourage vs what's good for her. There is automatic understanding and near sympathy given. (Though, Minthara every time I say this she makes me note that empathy and sympathy comes from the intelligence of being able to BE empathetic, and has nothing to do with a soft heart.) VS. her first response to Gale and Wyll of their situation. Where there is Gale there is the immediate dismissal and grace withdrawn from that dismissal (vs. Shadowheart who is also bound to a Goddess, near same situations but more empathy given to one side), and then there is Wyll who she laughs at.

But as she keeps speaking there is an understanding of their characters and her logical stance behind them, whether it's Wyll where she would rather know him as a bound warlock over a spoiled court only experienced child, or Gale who's she doesn't waste her time on because she believes entirely he will not 'live long enough to appreciate her social graces' (She has already decided Gale would be a poor conversationalist based on that first impression - male wizard.)

So with her being critical, that does not mean she refuses to understand the men around her regardless or race. (Which in terms of MALE company I'm really intrigued about her approach to Astarian - who she seems to have sympathy for but keeps him at arms length to keep his wits sharp in her own way. And I would love to see how she interacts with Halsin but that will come later in terms of rp.)

Minthara is also entirely intelligent enough to be honest and open about how flawed and cutthroat her own culture is that they eat the weak. She is the first to note how Drow men are treated and viewed, and at one point admits that she practiced Lotlh's ways herself to Astarian. (This is where I realized her ambitions to be a house matron, and how she idolizes her grandmother Yvonnel.) So I can entirely see a YOUNG Minthara looking over drow men and her first thought is whether or she would have added them into her own arsenal of men.

So ONTO DROW MEN! Her viewpoint of drow men is very much a nature vs. nuture topic. The kneejerk reaction will be to sneer and look down on them until she gets a good proper look at their character and their story, and AGAIN I heavily say too that their birth order will entirely depend on that respect because of the fact every son after the second born is killed in sacrifice to Lolth. She may be more tolerant once she is freed from the Absolute, but the kneejerk reaction remains.

Don't forget she IS intelligent enough to remain passive as she gains her judgment because she never makes an uneducated guess, or a ignorant judgement. Taking this approach with Minthara requires a specific and admittedly challenging balance BECAUSE of the fact she reserves her judgement for a time when she gathers more information to form a proper EDUCATIONAL observation of the OBJECTIVE AND IMPARTIAL FACTS in front of her.

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

honestly napoleon was an inspiration we should all write some self insert fic where we bash things we don't like every once in a while

we all absolutely should write what makes us happy! And if that's a melodramatic, overwrought short story about you and your ex-girlfriend, that's beautiful and I support you. ❤️

Napoleon out here, writing creative non-fiction/somewhat biographical fiction before CNF was a thing. 

-

Honestly though, I know some people will disagree with me, but I think he had a knack for writing. You can see the buds of it in Clisson et Eugenie, also in the unfinished Corsican Story (the world was robbed by his not finishing it) and in the other little shorts he wrote (the one about the cult leader (Mask of the Prophet - he underlined the title with GREAT enthusiasm and I adore that), also that english civil war ghost story).

It's just not something he pursued in a deep or meaningful way and so he didn't develop further. But he definitely had a flare for a good turn of phrase and paragraph ending mic drops.

To my mind, he shines the brightest when leaning into the modernist, Hemmingway-ish writing style he had. Short, sharp punches. That's his strength. And his style is very modern! (For a given value of modern.) Which is oddly unremarked upon, at least from what I've seen.

He's definitely at his worst when he's trying to Rousseau-ify everything. He really doesn't pull it off when attempting the flare of the Romantics and pastoral romances.

I know people bash on Napoleon's writing but I would argue that it's just youthful stuff. It'd be like judging my stories from ten-fifteen years ago and being like "clearly, this person is a bad writer" when it's just I didn't have practice and hadn't developed. It's the same for him, had he kept at it, had his life taken another route, who knows what could have been.

We might have had our Corsican Robinson Crusoe yet. ❤️❤️

[aitarose]

THORNS | AZULA

PAIRING: Azula x Reader x Zuko [fem]

PLOT: Though Azula always said that she’s never believed in love, she failed to stop herself from falling head over heels for her brother’s betrothed. companion piece to roses; based on these requests by anons

WARNINGS: angst, fluff, unrequited love, mutual pining, somewhat friends to lovers

WORD COUNT: 5.3k

A/N: this connects to the events that occur in roses. this piece can be read as a standalone, but roses gives more detail to the reader’s feelings and relationship with zuko

ALT. END: Blossoms | ZUKO’S POV: Roses

WRITER’S ANALYSIS: Here

MY MASTERLIST

thorns : a symbol of sinful thoughts, extreme sorrow, and hardships. when paired with a rose, denotes both pain and pleasure in the sense of love.

Year one, day one.

Azula slammed her hands onto the skin of her face, repeatedly making contact with her dry cheeks. She let out a deafening scream of anger, punching the wall next to her, leaving a dark black mark in its wake.

She’d been in her room for less than three hours and she was already going mad with boredom. 

The princess huffed, plopping herself down onto the twin-sized bed that was nestled in the corner of her so-called suite. 

She knew that Zuzu had done his best to give her the best commodities the Fire Nation could offer, but her former people weren’t exactly jumping to meet her pretentious living standards. 

Which was actually something that Azula somewhat understood. She knew deep down that what she had done was wrong—trying to kill the Avatar, trying to kill her mom, kidnapping the nation’s children, the whole gist. 

She’d done bad things, some really bad things in her past, but that’s all that it was—her past. Azula wanted to get better, she wanted to be better for not only Zuko, but for herself.

So she and her brother had devised a plan. A plan that would, in its entirety, take five years to complete. 

Zuko was giving Azula half a decade to prove to him that she could be good, truly good. Which to most would seem like quite a bit of time, but for Azula, she didn’t know if it would be enough.

She wrapped her arms around herself, warming her ice cold shoulders. Azula hadn’t been alone with her thoughts for this long in a while—and if she was being honest, there was nothing that scared her more than her own mind. 

“Princess?” She jumped, startled by the frail voice calling from the opposite side of her door. Azula hastily marched to the entrance, yanking it open in annoyance at whomever was bothering her chosen isolation.

Standing before her was a girl about her age, she couldn’t have been older than eighteen. She was holding a tray with various Fire Nation delicacies stacked on top of one another, steaming with heat and the kitchen’s aroma.

Azula rolled her eyes at the sight she was seeing. Of course Zuko had ordered for her to have a late dinner, he’d most likely been preoccupied with all of his new and earned Fire Lord duties.

“Come inside, peasant.” Azula gestured to the small dining table in the center of her confinement. She pulled out a chair for herself and expectantly looked at her companion with the expectation that she’d serve her. 

The other girl hustled, quickly placing the princess’s meal on the placemat and taking the seat opposite to her. She laced her hands together, her fingers tapping the wood nervously.

Azula threw her palms flat on the table. “What are you doing?” She questioned, interrogating her helper, who was cowering in her seat. “Does my brother expect you to monitor my meals? What damage could I possibly do with this slob? Start a food fight in the palace?”

Her uninvited guest took a deep breath, seemingly focusing her stress and fear into the idea of feeling zen. She swallowed hard, her gaze on Azula evolving from anxiety to empathy.

“Actually,” she trailed off, her lips rising into a thin smile. She looked into Azula’s golden eyes, searching for any signs of discomfort or rising anger. “The Fire Lord didn’t send me here, his advisors did.”

“The council knows that your brother has a soft spot for you.” She explained, watching as Azula slightly nodded her head along to her words. “Spirits, everyone knows that when it comes to you, he has no reason.”

“I’m only here to monitor and report your progress.” Azula scoffed at the thought of her father’s old council dictating the direction of her own life, but at least they’d sent someone she could relate to. A girl that she could actually form a conversation with.

A scowl flashed across Azula’s face as the admissions her companion had stated ran through her mind. No matter, at least she had some entertainment now.

“Do you have a name?” Azula asked pointedly as she began to pick at her meal. “Or should I just call you ‘Servant’, like I do with all of the others?”

The girl lightly laughed at the unintentional joke, finding humor in the thought of being stuck with the princess as nothing but her worker. She shook her head, smiling slightly, before responding.

“You can call me Y/N.”

Year one, day ninety-four.

“You’re late.”

Azula crossed her arms over her chest, huffing loudly as she attempted to seem angered by her new friend’s timing. She’d become well accustomed to the daily routine they’d developed over the past months.

Seeing Y/N was honestly the highlight of Azula’s day.

She’d never verbally admit that she enjoyed the kind girl’s company. That she felt refreshed by her positive and warm nature, that she relished in the judgement free outlook that Y/N had on life.

And Azula would never mentally admit to herself, that she may have developed unwanted feelings for her friend. 

She always told herself that love wasn’t real. After witnessing the so-called love her mother and father had shared first hand, Azula wasn’t necessarily looking forward to potential love in her future.

No matter who she was involved with.

“Sorry about that Azula.” Y/N hustled through the doorway, her hair tangled and dusted with dirt particles. She had a large scratch on her right cheek, most likely self inflicted. Y/N was clumsy like that.

Azula let out a short laugh. Taking in the appearance of her crush. She even makes dirt look good.

“I was running on time, but then I saw this adorable booth in the market and I just had to make a stop.” Y/N rambled, waving her hands in the air in exaggeration. Her cheeks were flushed red from her sprint through town, resembling the color of a blooming rose.

“As if it matters to me.” Azula shrugged nonchalantly in her best attempt to seem as if she didn’t care about her friend’s dilemma.

As if she didn’t care about every second of her day. As if Y/N’s overall excitement wasn’t the only thing that truly kept Azula going nowadays.

Y/N brushed off Azula’s feigned disinterest as if it was nothing. It wasn’t uncommon for the princess to ignore her daily shenanigans. Most of the time, she felt as if Azula didn’t even listen to anything she said.

Which Y/N had quickly realized not even weeks into their meetings, really really hurt her. It hurt her heart that Azula didn’t care, that she didn’t matter in her eyes.

In their time together, Y/N had developed inklings of feelings for the firebender as well. Feelings that she had come to internalize and push aside.

After all, it wasn’t her job to fall in love with her client. Her job was to help Azula learn to love her own people, to help her gain the love of her people.

“Well, Azula.” Y/N stumbled towards her friend, accidentally tripping over her own feet in embarrassment. She proceeded to hold out a single flower not yet in bloom. 

“This is what the vendor was selling.” She smiled warmly, letting Azula take the flower into her own hands. “It caught my eye, because it reminded me of you.”

Azula studied her gift. It was a red rose, the shade being so vibrant it could be compared to her brother’s firebending. The stem was thin, yet covered in thorns of various sizes. They prickled Azula’s fingers, puncturing her callouses. 

As she gazed at the budding rose, Azula realized how fitting the gift was to her. She had never been the kind of girl who longed for bouquets and sweets, but when coming from the right person, perhaps she was. 

Whilst she struggled to come up with a reply to her friend’s kindness, Y/N mentally applauded herself. She’d finally found a way to make Azula speechless.

“It’s not terrible, I suppose.” Azula threw the flower to the ground, lightly kicking it away from her with her right foot. She turned away from Y/N, not bothering to see the heartbroken look on her crush’s face.

“I’m sure that garbage was all you could afford anyways.”

Azula cringed as she heard the door close lightly. Her eyes were rimmed with tears, realizing that even while upset, Y/N would never respond to her own awfulness with anger.

She felt herself collapse, her knees buckling beneath her. Soft sobs escaped her lips, silent cries filling the hollow room. 

The sorrow-filled girl looked up from her lap with tear-filled eyes. Azula could see the faint outline of the young rose beside her. As she lifted the thorn covered flower with careful hands, she saw what Y/N had meant with the gift.

That Azula was dreadful and hurtful to others on the outside, but when encouraged and supported, she could become something beautiful.

Someone that could one day be compared to the beauty that was of a blooming rose.

As she sat alone, staring at the budding rose in her palms, Azula realized that she would only be able to become that person with the help of Y/N. She was the only person that had even come close to seeing her for who she truly was.

The only person who would think of giving a gift such as this to the princess of the Fire Nation. The only person who Azula had ever come to feel true and honest love towards. 

Azula had to become better. Not only for herself and Zuko—but for Y/N.

Year two, day one-hundred and six.

“Can I ask you something serious?”

Y/N rolled over to face Azula on her side, resting her elbow beneath her chin. She tilted her head while scrunching her nose in thought.

Azula was laying beside her, staring up at the dark vaulted ceiling. She’d been allowed to move back into her old bedroom at the palace with Zuko and his advisor’s permission, after they’d been informed of all of her progress with Y/N.

It was a room where Azula had never truly been comfortable in when she was younger, she used to feel so alone in the spacious and empty bedroom—but with Y/N’s company, she hadn’t felt alone in years. 

“That depends,” Azula responded, crossing her arms over her chest. She frowned, taking a moment to consider what Y/N could possibly ask her. “What is this serious question that you’re deliberating?”

Y/N dropped the arm that was supporting her upper body, allowing herself to fall back onto the soft red carpet. She stretched her arms out, nearly hitting Azula in the process before mimicking her friend’s position.

She let out a deep sigh as she closed her eyes tight. Her heartbeat raced in her chest, preparing herself for whatever reaction Azula could possibly have to her curiosity.

“Have you ever been in love?”

Azula nearly choked on air at the sound of Y/N’s words. She had to physically stop herself from bolting upright and leaving the room, before whipping her head around to give her crush a look of confusion.

“Love?” Azula cringed, pushing the thought of the emotion to the very depths of her mind. “That’s what you really wanted to ask me? If I’ve known love?”

The firebender could faintly see Y/N’s head nod in the darkness surrounding them. She lit a single flame from the tip of her pointer finger to get a better glimpse of Y/N’s beautiful face.

She could see the stress in her eyes—spirits, Azula could feel the anxiety rippling off of Y/N’s body in waves. She didn’t know why a question like this could possibly affect her companion in the way it was now. 

She didn’t know why it was affecting her in the exact same way.

“My parents were my only example of love when I was a child.” Azula shared, trusting Y/N with the inner secrets that she’d never verbally spoken before. “My mother left before I knew she even cared for me, and my father..”

Azula trailed off, not wanting to finish her sentence. Y/N pursed her lips at the princess’ silence, taking her shaking hand into her own soft palm. She rubbed her fingers against Azula’s, doing her best to comfort her during her confrontation with her past trauma.

“My father was a monster.” Azula grimaced, basking in the feeling of Y/N’s touch. The feeling of being so close, yet so far from the girl she was painfully in love with. “Their love wasn’t real, and I fear I’m so similar to my father that it’ll never be real for me either.”

Y/N gasped in disbelief. “Love is for anyone, ‘Zula. You just need to believe that one day, it’ll find you when you least expect it.”

Azula shook her head, refusing to face the fact that she had her love right in front of her. Someone who would care for her and understand her throughout all of her outbreaks and dilemmas. Someone that would choose her everyday, as long as she’d let her. 

“That’s unfortunate then.” Azula pried her hand from Y/N’s, shivering at the overwhelming feeling of emptiness. “Because I don’t believe in love.”

With that, Y/N was speechless. She’d expected something from Azula. Anything to affirm her suspicions that her crush was in love with her as well—but all she’d gotten in return was an answer even worse than rejection.

Azula groaned, sitting up from the floor and tucking her knees into her chest. “What about you? Have you ever been in love?”

Y/N took a minute to contemplate what she had asked. Azula mentally counted down the seconds of silence that followed her out-of-character question. 

“I think that I have.” Y/N pondered, lacing her own fingers together over her stomach. “But lately I’ve realized that they’ll never feel the same.”

“It’s about time that I move on, isn’t it?”

Azula barely heard the last words Y/N whispered under her breath. Her voice was so faint, it sounded like nothing but an echo in the void. She could tell that Y/N was frowning, but Azula had no idea how to make her smile.

And words couldn’t describe how much Azula loved her smile. There was nothing that she loved more to see. That bright, beaming grin and the gorgeous girl behind it—that girl always being Y/N.

Year three, day eighty-seven.

Azula stretched her arms above her head, the bright sun radiating beams of light around her. She felt a genuine grin spread across her face, brightening her features with honest happiness.

She’d just recently been given the privilege to roam the palace ground freely, and had chosen to spend every single day of the past week in the garden courtyard.

Being surrounded by the tall cherry blossom trees, the whistling birds, and the frail little turtle ducks gave Azula a sense of nostalgia that she never knew she had missed.

She used to shun the memories and longings of her past friends and family members, refusing to accept the fact that she had been the true problem in their relationship troubles. That she had caused all of their strife. 

But now, with the new idea of freedom on Azula’s mind, she finally understood how terrible she’d been. How unfairly she’d treated her peers and the people who had offered her guidance. She vowed to herself to never become that person again, that monster.

“Enjoying the warm weather?” Y/N called from the entrance of the courtyard, a large picnic basket in hand. 

Azula spun to face her friend, laughing at the sight of the mess Y/N had brought with her. She ran over to the girl, instantly taking a hold of the supplies she’d been lugging around with her.

Y/N smiled at Azula, overwhelmed with joy at the sight of her unprovoked helpfulness. She walked with the firebender, taking a seat in their usual spot under the largest pink tree.

She and Azula had grown in indescribable ways in the past years of knowing each other. They’d gone from nothing but strangers, to somewhat friends, and now best friends. 

Azula knew in her heart that Y/N was the only person who was real in her life. The only one who knew her in a way where she didn’t automatically shy away from the boldness and arguably maniacal tendencies Azula had.

She knew that if she ever really had a chance at love, it was with Y/N.

Which was the reason why today was so special for Azula. It was the day that she was planning to finally confess and accept the undeniable love and adoration that she held for Y/N.

“I hope you brought actual food,” Azula ripped off the lid of the basket, peering inside to find all of her favorite desserts made by the kitchen staff. She stuck her hand inside, grabbing a small fruit tart covered in bright red frosting.

“This is so much better than that garbage you gave me the first day we met.”

Y/N bursted out laughing, clutching her chest as her teeth sparkled in the sunlight. She scoffed, stealing the tart out of Azula’s hand, before taking a bite of it herself.

“Sorry, your majesty.” She rolled her eyes in amusement, giggling at Azula’s reaction to her thievery. “I wasn’t exactly allowed to choose what the Princess of the Fire Nation could eat.”

Azula smirked, shooting a short line of fire towards the delicacy in Y/N’s palm, scorching the remainder of the tart and obliterating it to ashes. “Don’t steal my food.”

Y/N blew the dust off of her lap, shaking down her body before smacking Azula’s shoulder. “Well, don’t set my food on fire.”

The two girls glared at each other, refusing to break eye contact in an unspoken staring contest. Y/N struggled to match Azula’s stone cold gaze, blinking hard before being overcome with a fit of giggles. 

Azula felt her cheeks flush red as her crush’s head fell into her lap. She gazed down on the hysterical girl, holding her cheeks between her hands. Before she could speak, Azula saw someone standing in the corner of her eye.

She looked up to find her Fire Lord brother shyly waving at them, one hand raised in the air while the other disappeared in the pockets of his grand robes. 

Her relationship with Zuko had greatly improved since the beginning of their arrangement. While she used to loathe the sight of his scarred face, now she had grown to find comfort in it. They’d finally become the family they should’ve always been.

“Zuzu?” Azula called out, confused as to why her brother was interrupting her time with Y/N. In all the time she’d spent with Zuko, he’d never been around when Y/N was there. “What is it that you need, brother?”

Zuko shrugged, now stuffing both hands into his pockets as he rocked back and forth on his heels. He stuttered for a moment before pointing at Y/N, who’d just now noticed the prince standing at the distance.

“I need to speak with Y/N,” Zuko slightly chuckled, biting his lip as he tried to suppress a grin. “I have some business that we need to cover, it’ll only take a second.”

Azula had never seen Y/N move so quickly. Her friend was there for one minute and then the next thing she knew, her lap was empty—barren from the feeling of warmth and belonging she’d felt seconds before.

She watched in confusion as Y/N stood before Zuko. Her brother and her crush spoke at a comfortable distance, not too close, but also not far enough. Azula wrinkled her nose in disgust as she saw him ruffle Y/N’s hair, an act that she thought was only reserved for her.

They continued conversing, their voices too faint for Azula to hear. As the ‘deliberation’ concluded, she sighed seeing Y/N turn away from Zuko—only to see him take ahold of her forearm, pulling her close to his body.

Zuko took one of Y/N’s hands in his, before finally revealing what he’d been hiding beneath his robes the entire time. 

He offered Y/N a rose, a somewhat crumpled rose, but a rose nonetheless. It was a soft shade of orange, the petals oozing the same effect as Zuko’s flames. Even Azula could admit that it was beautiful, more beautiful than any flower she’d ever come across.

Azula frowned at the sight of her crush’s red cheeks. Why doesn’t Y/N have that reaction to her compliments anymore?

The princess internally gagged as Y/n reached up to wrap her arms around Zuko’s neck, pulling him into a tight hug before pressing a light kiss to his cheek. She waved a quick goodbye to him and skipped towards Azula, tripping over countless stones on her way back.

She plopped down onto the ground, delicately holding the large rose in her hands. Azula noticed the smooth stem of the flower, free of thorns and pain.

“I see you and my brother have quite a bit of explaining to do.” Azula deadpanned, dreading to hear what Y/N could possibly have to say about the kiss she shared with Zuko. 

Y/N huffed out a puff of air, pushing away the loose strands of hair that were blowing around her forehead. She sat back against the cherry blossom tree, a lovestruck grin stretched across her face. 

“I’d meant to tell you earlier, ‘Zula.” She explained, twiddling the rose between her fingers. “A lot earlier actually—months ago, even.”

“Zuko and I ran into each other on my way to your room one day, and we just really clicked.”

Y/N felt her heart pounding in her chest, not from nerves but from the love that she felt for the kind Fire Lord. “We’ve been seeing each other since then and I think it’s going really well.”

“I think I’m in love with him.”

Azula felt her heart drop in that moment. She’d been anticipating a confession for the entirety of the day, though that confession was not the one she’d had in mind. 

Heartbreak was an unfamiliar feeling for Azula. Sure, she’d felt loneliness and emptiness before, but never this. She’d never known the true and utter despair of losing the one that you love to someone else. Someone that is undeniably better in every way.

Azula knew she’d never shine in comparison to Zuko in this new world—but she had thought that she was the diamond to Zuko’s rock in Y/N’s eyes.

But perhaps she was nothing more than a friend in the eyes of Y/N.

Year four, day two-hundred and two.

“I have news!” Y/N sprinted down the beach, sand flying everywhere as she giddily ran towards Azula. “Big big news that you’ll love to know!”

Azula raised an eyebrow at Y/N’s natural chaos, she’d never seen her so utterly unruly and dismantled. What could possibly cause her to act this way?

By the time she reached the seashore, Y/N was out of breath. She collapsed onto the sand, shrieking as the tide came in and brushed against her bare feet.

“Calm down, crazy! Don’t get that debris all over my new swimsuit!” Azula shouted, confused by how jumpy she was acting.

The only other time Y/N had come close to acting this way was when she and Azula had gone to see the famous play rights in the Fire Nation colonies, and ended up laughing at all of the ridiculousness they displayed.

“Sorry, sorry!” Y/N laughed, shaking the sand out of her clothes and hair. The state of being she was in reminded her of their early days together. Specifically the day Y/N had given Azula her favorite gift ever.

The budding rose covered in thorns.

“I’m just so excited.” Y/N went on and on describing her joy, her hands were waving in the air dramatically gesturing here and there to absolutely nothing. Azula wasn’t even listening to whatever she was saying, just admiring how pretty she looked in the sun.

“Take a breath, it’s not like we don’t have all day.” Azula chimed in, stopping Y/N from completely combusting with energy. She patted the seat next to her, nodding in approval as the girl she loved gladly took the spot.

Y/N wrapped her arms around Azula’s waist, laying on the towel beside her. She hummed in content at the platonic gesture she was showing her friend. Azula however was racing at Y/N’s touch, confused by the intimacy of it all.

Azula shrugged off her feelings, instead choosing to trace circles over Y/N’s back. Easing the girl out of her excitement and into a state of quietness and relaxation. 

Silence overtook the two girls, the only sound being the splashing waves upon the nation’s coast. Azula stared blankly at the soft currents, seeing them rise and fall over the shoreline. She wished she could come and go like them.

That way she wouldn’t have to witness first hand the love between Y/N and Zuko. The love between the girl she saw as her soulmate and her own brother.

“Zuko proposed.” Y/N whispered, an unintentional smile gracing her lips. The unconditional love she felt for him was so visible, the perfect stranger would be able to pick up on it. “And I said yes.”

Azula swallowed hard, feeling tears prickling the corners of her eyes. She let the waterworks drip down her cheeks, feeling like a run down battery with no energy left to hide her sadness. 

Y/N sat up, startled by the sparse water droplets hitting the back of her neck. She gasped, concerned by Azula’s obviously helpless emotional state. She reached up, taking Azula’s face in her hands while wiping her tears away.

“What’s wrong?” She asked in concern, doing her best to comfort the crying girl. She leaned forward, resting her forehead against Azula’s in an attempt to hold her close. “It’s alright, ‘Zula. You can tell me anything.”

“You know that I’m always here for you.”

In the storm of confusion and sadness that was raging in Azula’s mind, she did the one thing that she had promised herself she’d never do. She followed through with her own selfish wish of jeopardizing Zuko and Y/N’s relationship.

Y/N’s eyes opened wide in shock as Azula’s lips touched her own. 

The firebender poured all of her emotions into the one-sided kiss, not realizing that Y/N was unresponsive. The latter girl was frozen in place, trying her best to process what was exactly happening in the moment.

She’d dreamt of this moment, the time where Azula would finally admit that she had feelings for her too—but she hadn’t had those dreams in years. Those dreams had ended once Azula had said that love wasn’t real.

As Azula pulled away, tears still dripping down her chin, Y/N had a look of bitterness on her face. Her normally beautiful and positive features were overcome with anger and distrust.

“Why would you do that?” She cried, her eyes turning bloodshot red. Y/N stood hastily, backing away from her friend, holding her hands in front of her to show that she didn’t want Azula following her. “You know you shouldn’t have done that.”

Azula screamed in frustration as she watched Y/N storm away back in the direction of the palace. She grabbed fist-fulls of sand, flinging them at the sea and shooting blasts of blue fire in the air. 

She had perhaps ruined the best friendship she’d had in her entire life. All because she couldn’t keep her love to herself. Her true and overwhelming love for Y/N.

Year five, the last day.

“Are you prepared, Princess Azula?”

Azula stared into the mirror in front of her, seeing nothing but a coward in her reflection. She nodded absentmindedly to the servant that was serving her, doing her hair, dressing her, whatever it was that servants do.

She ordered her to leave the room, wishing to be alone for the remainder of the time she had to herself. There was a big event today, the biggest in the entire Fire Nation.

It was the wedding of the Fire Lord and his bride-to-be.

Azula would be lying to herself if she said that she hadn’t been dreading this day ever since Y/N had told her about the engagement that day on the beach—for that was the last day she’d even spoken to Y/N.

The former best friends hadn’t seen each other in months. Not because they were too busy or forgetful, but because Azula was too embarrassed to contact the girl. She was ashamed of her actions and regretted them wholeheartedly.

After all that time in the dark, Azula was shocked that she’d gotten an invitation to their ceremony. She didn’t think they’d want her present after what she’d done.

But here she was, all dolled up to watch the woman she loved marry the man she’d always been jealous of. Zuko had their mother’s love, the honor she’d always wanted, and the person she was supposed to spend her life with.

Sure his life had been nothing but hard since the minute he was born, but in the end Zuko was the better one out of the two of them. He was the one who was truly deserving of all of the power and glory that was their birthright. 

Azula glared at herself in the mirror’s glass, remembering the last time she’d looked at her reflection in such a distraught mood. She shook her head at the memory, choosing instead to pull open the small drawer of her vanity.

Inside was a long and thin wooden box, locked with a golden pad. She took the necklace tucked into her dress and fit the key charm into the socket, twisting it open.

Her hands reached into the keepsake, carefully gripping the decaying rose from its hiding place.

For four years she’d had the gift, and in those four years Azula had managed to find help from the plantbenders of the swamp to discover a way to keep the rose alive. 

However she’d become careless after her falling out with Y/N, forgetting completely about the flower, only remembering its existence in that very moment.

She spun the flower in her palms, wincing at the prickling feeling of the small thorns on the side. The rose still hadn’t bloomed, she’d told the plantbenders that she preferred it that way no matter their interjections.

Azula wanted to have the gift exactly how Y/N had meant it for her, it was more meaningful that way.

Fire raced up the stem of the rose, encasing the wilting petals in flames. Azula watched intensely as the flower turned to nothing more than ash and dust, all that was left was the four thorns she’d chosen to spare.

She poured the little dust she had back into the box, locking it with her necklace before taking the thorns with her and out the door. She was running on a tight schedule and wouldn’t for the life of her, miss the wedding.

The ceremony had begun beautifully. Romantic music surrounded the guests, filling their ears with the selection of tunes that Zuko and Y/N had hand picked. Orange roses erupted from the vases and archways in the courtyard, reminding Azula of her fateful picnic with Y/N.

She clutched the thorns in her palm at the thought of her, telling herself that this was always meant to happen.

Y/N deserved someone like Zuko. Someone good and loving, someone who would never turn their back on her. She was deserving of the entire world, and Azula never would’ve been able to give that to her.

She wasn’t meant to have Y/N’s love. She’d always known that, and now it was just time for her to accept it, move on, and cut her ties. Her future was nearing, and her new sister-in-law was not a part of it. 

Perhaps this was a positive, a truly good thing to come from the constant struggle that she’d faced since childhood.

After all, she could finally leave her prison. Abandon her memories in replace of new ones where she wasn’t the fire princess, where she was simply Azula—just Azula.

TAGS: @practicallylivesonline @cherryskyies @shell-bells-ringding @xapham @mochminnie @lammello​ @bombardia​

[noididntdude]

How i got into the cissamione ship, an elaboration 😅:

- i used to be a fleurmione shipper but i felt like there's always something missing. even when i've read a lot of fanfics, for me there's just something lacking there

- there's also the famous bellamione ship but just nope, nope, it's not for me. i mean if u ship it that's cool, u're cool. i tried but i just... can't get into it

- during these times i had brief glances of the cissamione tags but was never curious enough. i found out that it's the ship between hermione and narcissa malfoy, draco's mom, and i thought 'huh?' coz the narcissa i knew was the one in the movie

- then this pandemic happened and i was so bored. i already read and re-read the fleurmione fanfics that i liked, i even tried the hermione x ginny and the pansmione but they're not enough and not my taste, so i decided to try and delve into the mysterious hermione x narcissa ship and wow! was it one of the best things that happened to me this year!

- i read the short fics first and boom! i was hooked. so i researched about narcissa malfoy nee black and i. fell. in. love. what an amazing character, the way she was described in the book- blonde, unlike her sisters; elegant and prissy, the picture of a royal pure-blood; protective and caring, as a mother; and oh so mysterious, in a most alluring way. like, you can do a lot with a character like her and the awesome writers of the cissamione fandom deliver. the long fics are beautiful pieces of art. they really sell the dynamics between the heroines and as i read the fanfics, i knew; this is what i was looking for.

Why i ship this lovely pairing:

- first, let's look at hermione granger- this wonderful, sublime, and intelligent young woman can show both some of the positives and negatives of youth. the pros of youth u can see in hermione: energy, vibrancy, curiousity, spontaneity, innocence, wittiness, endless possibilities as she have a lot of room to grow. now the cons: brashness, self-righteousness, ignorance(she still doesn't know much since she lack experience), tends to be emotional or moody, misplaced judgements, can be harsh with punishments, prone to depression

*now, narcissa malfoy nee black, this beautiful, enigmatic, and cunning woman can show some of the good and bad sides of being someone of her age. the good ones: maturity, being at her prime (she's a witch), levelheadedness, wisdom(from her family and her experiences), balance, politeness, awareness. the bad ones: can be quite controlling, compares her time with the now, rigidness, have a lot of things to look back to that she tends to forget to focus on the present and look forward to the future, likely to overthink, can be dependent to wine, regretfulness

- next, the house they belong to.

*hermione, the gryffindor is- chivalrous, noble, brave and determined but can be reckless, stubborn, and tactless

*while narcissa, the slytherin is- subtle, resourceful, reasonable and a good leader (she led her family out of the mess that Lucius put them in) but she can be pessismistic, secretive, vengeful and resentful

-there's also their aesthetics

*hermione granger's descriptions in the books and fanfics always makes me picture vivid colors. They can be bright or dark hues but they are definitely vivid. She's like this bursts of colors everywhere she goes, not just because of her physical appearance but mostly because of her personality.

*narcissa black's descriptions in the books and in the fanfics always leaves me with the impression of soft colors with underlying shades. narcissa's outward appearance is always said to be pleasing to the eyes but the usual expressions on her face are not good for the heart. her fairness is both an advantage and disadvantage for her. that's why she definitely trained herself to seem delicate when it is needed and look impenetrable when it is necessary. in the books during the war u can see her being soft colors as she preferred to be in the background, but when it comes to protecting her family u will notice her shades.

- lastly, the way they love.

when u're looking for a life partner, unconciously the one that you really examine is the way they care for others. it can be because u want to experience that special care for ur own or u want to learn how to care like that (like that person can or will inspire u to love like them) or u want both.

*hermione granger, being an only child, is a bit open with her love. her strong desire to prove herself used to get in the way but as the years go by she learned what she and others are comfortable with so she was able to spread her love more. people around her soon understand that hermione is open with her compassion. she is also fierce and expressive in showing them. she's also loyal and true despite the bits of betrayal. and she always put others before herself. hermione loves in a splendid way though it can be tough towards herself since she is the sacrificing type.

*narcissa black's character made an impact in the harry potter story due to her extreme love for her son which caused voldemort's defeat. from this, we can conclude that narcissa loves tightly. with the family she grew up in, that seems to be the best choice. their family obviously have their prejudice since it's their ancestors that suffered in the hands of muggles. their motto of remaining pure in their blood was definitely installed to the black children's minds. that's why narcissa held it in her heart that family first before eveything. she had to hold on to those who are already there for her and she had to choose wisely and carefully those who can enter into her personal bubble. She was taught that the outside world is not safe, they are people who will be against her and her family. she can't be too open with her affections or her enemies will use it to destroy her. so narcissa is very protective and can be overbearing. it can be tough for the people around her since she is quite selfish but it is still a precious way to love.

When u combine these elements together, u get a couple that has this endless chemistry, deep and strong connection, great story, and exquisite future.

their trope is that of needing to wanting and wanting to needing

from hermione's part it can go like this:

she will need narcissa since she will never have that closure from bellatrix and after the war the only capable and mentally stable witness of her torture would be narcissa, since draco have his issues too since he's young like hermione.

she will go from needing to meet with narcissa to wanting to be with narcissa, after getting to know the youngest black sister better.

from narcissa's part it will be like this:

narcissa, who for the duration of the first and second war only did what was necessary, can now do the things she wants to do after the war. one of those would be apologizing to the people who suffered inside their manor, specially hermione granger.

she will go from wanting to meet with hermione to needing to be with hermione, after getting to know gryffindor's golden girl better.

With regards to their canon partners this is what i can say,

hermione and ron have their differences but they don't really compliment each other that much. like, they can't and won't bring the best out of each other.

the same goes for narcissa and lucius. the latter obviously sabotage their family even though that's not his intention. these two slytherins have their similarities but it's as if they're just together for formality's sake.

hermione and ron, narcissa and lucius are like parallel lines when they're together. their similarities are only on the surface but they will never really touch each other.

while hermione and narcissa are like perpendicular lines. they touch, they intersect at the right angle. yes, they came from the opposite sides but when they finally meet they build something beneficial like a cartesian plane. this dynamic is what makes cissamione the best ship for me.

thanks for reading.

[0ghostwriter0]

Collaboration with @thecavillstache. Imagine being in love with Henry and Richard. The reader has to see Henry after Richard proposed and they come to terms with their feelings for each other.

I really loved working on this with you. You’re knowledge on Henry cavil and my knowledge on Richard Madden made this so fun to write.

Pairings: Henry Cavill x reader x Richard Madden

Warnings: emotions, swearing

A week ago, you experienced the happiest and the hardest day of your life.

The transition from spring to summer was your favourite. The metropolitan museum was your favourite place. Standing in front of the flowing staircase, Richard grasped your delicate hands. Slowly, he dragged a small velvety box from his pocket. After 2 years of dating, from secret glances across the table and trips back to his parents’, today was the day. But deep down, you felt an anchor pulling you down. Even though you've been dating for 2 years, Richard had never wanted to make it exclusive so you never corrected the press when you were seen out with a certain costar. Henry. Although, when you opened up the trap that caged your soft voice, there was no denying how much you wanted to be Mrs Madden.

“Y/N, we’ve been around the town for a while and it’s been one hell of a ride...”He paused.

You were dragged back to reality when bulbs flashed in your face. This wasn’t a dream. Hundreds of photographers turned their attention away from the numerous celebrities in handcrafted gowns. This was the Met Gala after all. Your Alexander McQueen dress flowed through your fingertips as you held on to the one constant. Richard smirked and slowly knelt onto the red carpet.

“I’m so in love with you. I know it’s taken me a while to accept it but I was scared that you wouldn’t feel the same” his smooth voice trickled up from his heart to grace your ears.

“Rich-” he cut you off.

“From the moment we met I couldn’t stop thinking about how I would propose to you. So when you said that you loved it in movies when it was a huge romantic gesture at their favourite place, I knew today would be the day,” the Scottish actor slowly opened the box to reveal a Haribo ring. “ that I’d ask you to be mine. It’s not much but I wanted to promise tha-” you cut him off. Flinging your arms around his neck, you sunk to the ground.

“Yes.”

.•° ✿ °•.

Sitting uncomfortably on his sofa with his best companion, Henry’s heart dropped as your engagement had just been shown live on almost every channel. In his mind, he was happy for you but in his heart, he was truely broken. Only a month ago, Henry and you had spent many moments of intimacy together and shared feelings that he’d never fully felt before.

A month ago, on the last day of filming, Henry had over reacted when you told him that Richard was coming to pick you up and take you out. Since, he’d called every Wednesday to catch up but was still very distant. After the third call, he stopped. Finding it hard to continue watching the tears of bliss that fell from your face on the screen in front of him, Henry jumped up from his seat and went to locate a lead. Catching on to his owner’s movements, Kal’s tail went crazy almost knocking a now cold tea off the coffee table. Slowly, after attaching Kal’s lead, Henry moved to turn off the television but not before the camera zoomed into the Haribo ring.

“Asshole can’t even get her a fucking ring,” he snapped and he pressed the off button on the remote. “She deserves better, fuck she deserves a ring.”

.•° ✿ °•.

In the weeks that followed, yourself and Richard spent hours in interviews promoting Bodyguard season 3 and answering questions about your relationship. All the while, you knew deep down that you’d soon be back on set with Henry to finish filming Girl From U.N.C.L.E. The morning before your return to set you got a call from Guy Riche telling you to “avoid Henry he’s been in a foul mood for the past two weeks. Better not talk to him or he’ll snap at you like he has everyone else.” You knew it was your fault.

Since the proposal, you hadn’t spoken to each other but then again you weren’t speaking before. That night was restless- impossible to sleep. Yet there you were. Standing in front of the stage door, you were shaking. What if he hated you? How would you do the sex scene if he hated you? Would Guy get pissed at you because you couldn't shoot the scene?

"Y/N!” a voice bellowed behind you.

It was Henry. His thick British accent was music to your ears and yet you felt so guilt hearing him shout your name. Turning around slowly, you closed your eyes not wanting to see the hurt, pissed off, kind, beautiful, betrayed face of the Cavill. Much to your surprise, you were soon engulfed in a bear-like hug. Maybe he was okay.

"I missed you on set” he started but you just trembled under his grip as small tears started to collect in your eyes.

As Guy Ritchie appeared over your shoulder, Henry pulled away and headed on to set. Swiftly wiping away your tears, you headed to hair and makeup. An hour later you were in your cabaret attire ready to film a huge scene for the film. Scantily dressed, you found your way to the dressed-up 1960s French dance exotic club. Soon, Guy yelled action and the scene was in full swing. After 12 takes and 4 camera changes, the scene was over. Hurring back to your trailer, you prayed that no one would find you. After parading your body around the set for the scene, you began to feel worthless.

It didn’t take long for Henry to notice that you weren’t amongst the writers and actors talking about the success and talent in the scene. Against his better judgement, the god of a man decided now was the time to talk about the engagement. Knocking lightly with his huge gentle hands, Henry felt relief as he heard the delicate movements of your feet as you came to open the door.

“Hen-ry” you exhaled shakily.

“I need to talk” he stated as he came off harsher than he intended.

You nodded quickly and stood aside for him to enter.

“Why did you say yes.” He blurted out as the trailer door closed behind him.

“That’s your question? You ignore me for weeks then hug me out of the blue to ask me why I said yes” your voice was flooded with emotion. “Because he asked. He wanted me, Henry. He loves me” the bank of tears you had refused to let go earlier were now falling violently from your face.

Henry stepped to keep you up against the wall as he wiped away your tears.

“Richard told me how he feels; he’s not like you.” You continued quietly.

“What do you mean by ‘he’s not like you’? What the hell does that mean” Henry crooked his brow but remained inches from your body.

“You are constantly blowing hot and cold with me Henry and it hurts. I needed you but” your voice broke into a squeak.

Henry’s heart sank but he knew the young beauty trembling in front of him was the woman he wanted for the rest of his life. Trying to compose yourself, you looked up into the blue orbs. You noticed the small hint of brown that you had discovered during a moment of intimacy. Quickly, you snapped out of the cyan trap.

“You don’t have to say anything.” Henry started “I won't make you chose because I know that I - I love you”

“No no, you can't do that to me. Tell me you love me and say that I don't have to chose because you know that I can't have you both” you sobbed.

“What do you want from me... Because I need you Y/N. When it's cold and wet outside, I imagine having you in my arms- holding you close to my chest. Then I could breathe in the soft ember scent of your hair.” his gaze was captivating as he said every word you needed to know.

“Show me!” you blurted.

Smirking sinisterly, Henry wrapped his arms around your waist as his lips connected with yours. Could you have both?

Taglist: @thecavillstache @liajiah @esmmyy

Please like, comment, reblog

[enternalempires]

A Surprise Visit

This is a Lukanette fic, with majority of fluff and a lil hurt. Hope you enjoy! Haven’t figured out how to use links yet but my Ao3 username is the same!

“Did you know,” Marinette said, twisting an ebony and silver ring around on her finger. It was one of Luka’s and she rarely, if ever, took it off. When he went off to college and moved to Lyon, a mere two hour train ride from Paris, he gave her a couple pieces of his jewelry, his favorite hoodie, a Jagged Stone t-shirt, and a promise of returning. “That I miss you?”

“Yeah, Melody, I know.” The Musician’s voice was clearly wistful despite. “I miss you too, more than you can imagine.”

“I think I can imagine it well enough,” She whispered back.

They were on a call, speakerphone allowing them to lay back on their separate balconies and star-gaze. The black spaces between the stars seems farther apart than usual, the moon more alone than before.

The distance felt longer than it was.

The days went by so slow, each hour lacking something and each night dragging on and missing a vital piece needed for good sleep. That wasn’t a piece, however, but a person— Luka. She wanted him closer, close enough to hold and laugh with and see that dopey smile he always had around her and blush at his sly comments and cheek-nuzzles after he kisses her forehead.

She misses the boy that, for the last couple of years, had become her best friend.

Alya was… supportive and an amazing friend but she just didn’t understand.

Luka did, though.

Whenever she needed someone to listen without judgement or without trying to solve her problems for her— to just listen, he was there. And when the musician needed someone to talk to him, to distract him from his thoughts and whatever was making his mind a too-heavy place to be, she was there for him.

He was her shoulder to cry on and who made her laugh and she was the same, holding him when his heart ached in his chest with memories it couldn’t forget.

They were each other’s rocks in an otherwise chaotic, always shifting tsunami of a life.

Marinette fully supported Luka following his dreams and going to college and getting a degree that will push him along and better his musical career— she just wished it didn’t hurt so much to be away from him.

She had half a school year left before her time in Lycee would be up and she’d be, coincidentally, going to the same university as him. It didn’t seem to come quick enough, though.

They were both busy. Luka had gigs with his new band called the Silver-hearts of Serpents, practice, and extracurricular activities and she had to work on her designs for anyone who commissioned MDC— the name on her website— and they both had schoolwork and classes to attend to so that meant  little to no time to catch up with each other during the day.

Thankful for being in the time zone, they tried to make it work and usually called before going to bed and when they woke up and texted in between classes or things that kept them on a constantly shifting schedule.

But it wasn’t the same as just being able to go across town and curl up into their favorite person’s arms and just sleep the weight of the day’s events away. It wasn’t the same as laughing when stranded in a heavy downpour because neither of them checked if it was going to rain. It wasn’t the same as chasing Andre’s Sweetheart Icecream around for half the day just to drop it from tripping over themselves seconds later even though neither of them believed in the magic behind it.

It just wasn’t the same.

It wasn’t fair either, Marinette decided, that the boy I fell in love with and who genuinely likes me back has to be so far away.

But she didn’t tell him that— not when she knew it would make Luka feel even guiltier for leaving. They were each other’s greatest support system and they always would be, and he didn’t like being gone when she was handling so much.

That so much being Alya unable to understand that Marinette simply didn’t like Adrien anymore— her falling for Luka and falling for him hard; falling for him in a way that felt deeper and closer than anything she ever did for her former crush— and still creating schemes to get them together, to the point where it was getting dangerous and rather ridiculous.

She had homework, exams coming up, commissions, hours needed to help her parent’s in the bakery, other hours dedicated to helping friends, and being Ladybug and the burden that came with the earrings (not that, to her knowledge, Luka knew about).

To top that off, she dealt with a lot more frustrating people at Lycee than she did at Dupont, including belligerent teenage boys who don’t understand the word no or respect boundaries.

So she really missed him.

So much so that it left her heart aching.

Only a couple months, she reminded herself. It would only be a couple more months till the summer. Till they would be at the same University (and sharing the same apartment— it’s less expensive and they always used to joke that they’d make great roommates with how often they spent over at the other’s place).

“Melody,” Luka said, voice deeper than before but just as smooth. “Did you fall asleep on me?”

“No,” Marinette yawned, covering her mouth with a small squeak as she curled up and turned towards her phone, squinting at the bright screen that showed his contact picture— dopey smile and all. “I just got lost in thought, sorry.”

“It’s okay, baby.” He reassured and she felt her mouth tug up into a warm smile. She loved when he called her that or his other pet names for her, it made her feel special. “But you sound tired and I know you have a test tomorrow morning, you should go to bed.”

“But Luka,” She whined. “I want to talk with you more. I really missed you today and, and I have more things that I want to tell you.”

“Come on, my Melody,” He coaxed and she pouted. He knew she’d do what he wanted when he used that stupid, attractive, comforting voice. It simply wasn’t fair. “Both of us are free tomorrow afternoon, remember? You’re only going to watch Kitty Section practice then going home and I only have my own practice to attend to. I’m sure we’ll be able to talk after.” Then his voice got softer. “I’ll always be here for you and I’ll always listen to what you have to say, but I don’t want to keep you up when that risks your grades and, more importantly, your health.”

“I hate it when you’re right,” Marinette grumbles, groggily getting up and moving over to her hatch where she easily slipped into her bed and snuggled under the covers. “Can you at least talk to me until I fall asleep?”

“Of course, beautiful.” Luka agreed, making a sleepy blush to climb her cheeks. “Anything in particular?”

“Just about things that make you happy.”

“Well, I know this one girl and she’s the most incredible person I ever met. She had amazing blue eyes and is a very talented fashion designer. Her smiles, man, her smiles make me melt and—”

“Luka,” Marinette giggles. “Not about me.”

“But you make me the happiest,” He protests.

“Sap,” She smiles, eyes closing as she laughs quietly one more time, head sinking into her pillow. “Can you… can you sing me something?”

“Mhm,” Luka hums and it’s not long before she’s falling asleep to the sound of her song, of the one he made for her.

That night she dreamt of two tattooed arms holding her and teal dyed, messy hair falling in front of aqua-blue eyes and woke up alone with tears staining her pillow— Tikki offered her a warm smile and a pat on the cheek but it didn’t seem to help the cold, lonely feeling in her chest.

* * *

The day had not been kind to Marinette.

She woke up with a headache, didn’t have enough time for a proper meal but remembered to grab a granola bar after Luka texted her and reminded her to eat, got a pretty bad bruise on her wrist from getting it slammed in a closing door, tripped multiple times, and managed to ruin her lecture’s notes with her coffee.

On the brightside she kept Luka’s hoodie clean— as today she decided to wear it over a simple white t-shirt and paired it with a black skater skirt, lace stockings, and combat books— and managed to not face-plant into anything by the time school ended and she was allowed to pack her things and start the walk to the boathouse to watch Kitty Section preform.

Since Luka was in college and lived too far away they had to find a new guitarist, just like Luka had to find new members to form a band.

Luckily Juleka mentioned Marc, Nathaniel’s boyfriend and the writer to his artist, played the guitar and was really good at it so within no time they were back to practicing and finding a new dynamic for the group.

Luka got lucky with some of his old friends and formed his new band which was just as good, if not better, than his old one but that was only due to a lot of extra practice and more opportunities to grow.

Axel was the band’s bassist, Bash was the drummer, Tyra was the back-up vocalist and keyboardist, and Luka was the guitarist, lead vocalist, and leader.

Marinette couldn’t wait until she could see them perform live. Luka had sent her videos and recordings of their music and songs or just of him singing or playing guitar but she knew first hand that nothing compared to seeing it in person.

And she knew that, either way, his band would be amazing.

“Marinette!” A soft voice called from behind her, making the young bluenette startle and turn slightly on the sidewalk to see who was calling her. It was Rose, a sweet smile on her lips and she tugs her girlfriend along.

As soon as her and Juleka catch up, Marinette tilts her head to the dark-haired girl’s silent greeting and drifts to the side so the couple wouldn’t have to awkwardly get out of the way.

“You’re watching us practice, right?” Rose asks. There’s an energetic bounce in her step that Marinette can’t help but to be suspicious of, and the slight smirk on Juleka’s lips don’t help.

“Yeah,” Marinette says, adjusting her purse to be in front of her as a group of obvious tourists cater to the side and almost crash into her, not wanting Tikki to get tossed around. “Do you know what you guys are playing yet? I heard Ivan mention something about revamping one of your original songs.”

“Oo!” The blonde giggles, wide eyes excited as she starts to rant about the different things her and Ivan were brainstorming earlier to improve their old work.

Her girlfriend nodded and added a couple quiet things here and there while Marinette listened, pilotely following along with the conversation and her mind strayed to Luka and thinking about what he was up to.

No doubt working on his own songs, hanging out with his band mates as they practice.

“Mylene is coming too,” Rose tells her and Marinette blinks back into reality, narrowly dodging a man skating with a yelped out apology. “So even if you won’t be alone, you’ll have company!”

“Uh,” She pauses, racking her brain to know if she missed something in the conversation. “Who’s going to watch the practice other than Mylene? Is Nate coming to support Marc?”

“Nate?” Her friend paused her skipping to let out an excited squeal. “Oh, you don’t know! Well—”

Juleka suddenly spun her girlfriend into her arms and pulled her into a kiss, causing Marinette to step away awkwardly but not retreat. Paris was a welcoming city and full of diverse and accepting people but there would always be that one jerk who had a problem with people loving other people and finding a problem if they happened to be the same gender— so she would keep a look out just in case someone wanted to cause a problem.

When the pair of girlfriends broke away a couple seconds later, Rose seemed too flustered to continue or even remember what she was saying and the bluenette laughed at how smug the blonde’s girlfriend looked.

A couple minutes went by filled with light banter between the couple and an amused Marinette refusing to join a side before the three of them got to the docs and made their way onto the boathouse.

“The rest of the band will be here soon and I want to be here when they do to ask Marc something,” Juleka says, a smirk just visible under the half of her face hidden by hair. “Can you do me a favor and grab me an extra sweater from Luka’s side of the room, Marinette? I started to keep some of my things in there when he left.”

“Uh, sure?” The bluenette nods, frowning slightly. “But didn’t he say not to—”

“Oh!” Rose suddenly bursts, whipping around to face her girlfriend. “That’s clever! You—”

And then they start kissing again and that’s Marinette’s cue to go.

She passes Anarka on the haul and gives her a friendly wave that the older woman returns with a wide smirk that she now knows her daughter inherited and quickly went below deck and crossed over to where Luka’s room was.

She grips her elbows with both hands, rocking on the balls of her feet with every step as she paces down the hallway, trying to hype herself up enough to actually go into his room.

It would be so… strange.

She was never in there without him being there before and it would be full of his things but the most important ones gone— the wall of guitar picks packed up and now put up in his apartment’s living room from what she saw from the video he sent, the little trinkets gone from the desk now bare, and his bed only having a bare mattress and the walls without postures or any pictures.

She doesn’t know how it would feel but she knows that it won’t be good, she knows it will make the empty ache in her heart stretch all the wider.

But now she’s in front of Luka’s door and she doesn’t have a choice.

Marinette took a deep breath and turned the hatch on the door, the metal giving a slight creak to it as she awkwardly used her bodyweight to open it, grumbling to herself as it hung heavily halfway open— not noticing the group of three that were holding their breath at her entry from the middle of the room— and one of the sleeves that were way too big for her got caught in one of the crooks on the edge.

“Aw,” Her brows furrowed and she pouted as she tried to tug the sleeve free, but of course the world was against her and she somehow made it worse. “Mr. Sleeve, I’ve had a really bad day, can you please just— ahah! Thank you!”

Freeing herself from the door, Marinette pulled the sleeves over her hands for better control of the jacket and twisted around to begin the search for Juleka’s sweater when she met a pair of vivid brown eyes— eyes she definitely wasn’t prepared for.

“Eek!” Squeaking and startled, the young heroine takes a stumbling step back and ends up falling onto her butt, skirt thankfully in place and with her wide, blue eyes traitorously filling with water.

“Oh my God, she fell!”

“Shit, Bash, you scared her!”

“Aw, that’s a cute skirt. Do you think she’d tell me where she got it?”

Came the voices of the three strangers that were now all focused on her, eyes pinned onto the girl that fell as she stared right back, a slow race of tears from the day’s stress finally snapping trailing down her cheeks.

“W-Who are you guys?” Marinette stammered out, mind reeling and anxiety having already taken hold of her even before she noticed the trio, just noticing the sting in her palms and the burning heat of the ripped open skin. “You, you shouldn’t be in here, this is a p-private room!”

“I’m Bash Vulcan,” The guy with vivid brown eyes— and the one who scared her— had slicked back blonde hair, a thick black sweatshirt, ripped skinny jeans with converse, and a shit-eating grin on his face as he offered her a hand up.

She refused and just remained on the floor, not trusting her legs to keep her up if she stood at the moment. Feeling extraordinarily pathetic, Marinette just couldn’t focus on anything besides her pounding heart. She defeated Akumas on a weekly basis but couldn’t handle a couple strangers?

It made her feel so weak.

And those stupid tears were still falling.

“Sorry this asshole scared you, he didn’t mean to. I’m Axel, by the way. Axel Jupiter?” The one who swore and reprimanded Bash gave her a sympathetic smile that she barely registered and waved at her, his light brown hair flopping in front of his face from where it reached his shoulders. He had a punk style to him— and he said his name like it was supposed to mean something.

Maybe it was.

Maybe on a good day or with a slightly calmer heart Marinettte would’ve placed who they are but she just came up blank. Blank and panicking.

The only girl in the Trio had a pixie cut that was a pastel green and a nose ring and anyone with eyes could tell that her style was gothic anad that she simply didn’t give a shit by the tilted smirk of her lips— that only deepened as she pointed to Marinette’s skirt and asked, “Where’d ya get it, girly? I’m Tyra Bellona, I guess since these idiots gave their last name too.”

Tyra. Axel. Bash.

They’re in Luka’s boathouse. They’re in Luka’s room. They’re in Luka’s band.

The Band.

Luka.

“L-Luka?” Marinette sniffled, wiping away her tears as she sat up and winced at the way her palms stung, the broken skin and forming scabs still tender. “Why are you guys here without Luka?” She asked, using the hatch’s edge to pull herself into a standing position.

It was Bash’s turn to look suspicious and he stepped closer and pointed his finger at her, eyebrows raised, “Everyone was supposed to know why and where. So who are you, huh? Whatcha doin’ here? Are you some crazy fangirl that snuck on board?”

“What?” The young heroine swiped at her tears again, voice slightly croaky as she took a shaky step back. “N-no! I’m not a fangirl! I was getting a sweatshirt for Juleka and—”

“I smell lies! What’s your name? Don’t lie. I can smell them. I can.”

“Man,” Axel throws something at the back of Bash’s head, making his bandmate back up. “Leave the girl alone, you prick. Look at her jacket? Look familiar?”

Tyra and Bash looked her up and down, the gothic chick laughing after a second before she shoves the latter in the shoulder with a cocky look playing on her features, “Just wait until Couffaine finds out you made his girl cry, Vulcan. I can’t wait to see him flip his shit.”

“Wait,” Marinette drew the attention back to herself. “Luka is here?”

“Aw, he didn’t tell her,” Bash snickered making Axel hit his gut before gesturing to the other door that leads back to the deck but on Juleka’s side, and explaining how Luka snuck up there thinking that ‘his melody’ wasn’t there yet and wanting to make sure that his demon of a sister didn’t get too smug and spill the beans.

Marinette tiredly, but with excitement running through her veins, dashed back through the hatch door— being quickly followed by the bandmates, because who would want to miss the drama?— and ran all the way up to the deck.

Anarka laughed whole-heartedly as she passed and yelled out, “Go get ‘em, lass!” that had her blushing up to her ears but she was simply too happy to care.

Luka was here! In hugging distance!

And the jerk didn’t even tell her!

She saw Luka sitting on the couch, his guitar next to him and his leg bouncing with nervous energy. He ran his hand through his hair and tugged, an anxious look on his face as he talks to Rose about something, eyes closed as he grumbled.

Which was perfect because he didn’t even see Marinette and didn’t get the choice until she was throwing herself on top of him, legs on either side of his and knees tucked into his hips as she wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face into his neck.

“Oomph!” Luka let out a loud breath, eyes flying open at the abrupt weight settled onto his person but then softening as he saw the girl in his lap, his arms coming around her and holding her to him just as tight— his nose nudging the top of her head as he took in her scent of chocolate cookies and vanilla. “Melody?”

Rose was squealing somewhere in the background while Juleka and Bash snickered, Axel cooing at them while Tyra complained about the disgusting gooey-ness but all of that lended into the background.

All that mattered was the two of them— the fact that they were here, in the same space, breathing each other in, holding onto the other as tightly as they could.

All that mattered was them.

Not Juleka’s scheming falling into place, not Rose’s excited chatter or how smug his mom had been or how horrible the day had been leading up to this point. Just her and just him.

“No,” Marinette mumbled, flexing her arms around him as she fully relaxed into him. “You don’t get to talk. You might forget to tell me something very, very important. Like, I don’t know, coming back to Paris?”

“I’m sorry, baby.” Luka nuzzled his hand against her hip, rubbing his thumb in circles as he mumbled into her hair. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“I missed you,” She replied, forgiveness in her tone. “But let me be prepared next time.”

“I will,” He kissed her forehead, putting the tiniest amount of space between them. “And you know I missed you too, right?”

She shook her head.

“Liar,” Luka tapped his fingers on her sides and dug them in a bit, tickling her and making Marinette giggle loudly as she still refused to move away from him. “You just gonna stay there, baby?”

“Mhm,” The young heroine hummed, placing a light kiss onto the edge of his jaw.

“Did you meet everyone already?” He asked. “Assuming that’s how you found out I was here— seeing them, I mean?”

“She met us,” Tyra cut in, a cackle in her voice that doesn’t go unnoticed. “Vulcan made her cry and scared her, she fell down and hurt her hands I think.”

“He also then got all up in your girl’s face and accused her of being a crazy fangirl.” Axel oh-so-helpfully replied.

“Traitors!”

“Bash.”

“Oh, fuck.” The aforementioned boy squeaks out at Luka’s growl. “Dude, I am so sorry, I didn’t know she was—”

“We’ll talk later about it,” Luka brushed him off— which, coming from a Couffaine, is never good as they are people who like to be blunt and solve issues as soon as possible. To delay it means that, well, you screwed up majorly. “Melody, let me see your hands.”

“No.” Marinette grumbles, earning laughs from Tyra and his sister, who the guitarist quickly flips off. “I’m comfortable and it’s just scraped and I missed you.”

“Good luck getting her off in the next hour,” Juleka said, her hair pushed out of her face so when the young heroine peeked out from his neck she could see a sly smile spreading across her features. “Marinette’s been whining about not seeing you for weeks and she’s as stubborn as they come.”

Marinette flips her off, too.

“Aw!” Rose giggles, bouncing on her toes. “You’re becoming a real Boat Kid, Mari! They’re all adorably crass like that!”

“Says you, Rose,” She shot back. “I’ve known you for years and you’ve always sworn like a sailor so it was no surprise to me that you started dating one.” This got laughs from Axel and Luka, the latter’s chuckles she could feel in her own chest.

“Hey,” Juleka said, wrapping an arm around her girlfriend. “Leave my Manic Unicorn alone, it’s cute that her favorite word is fuck.”

“I watched your Manic Unicorn swear out a teacher when we were seven.”

“I genuinely would’ve paid to see that.”

“Oh!” Rose squealed, a soft expression on her face. “I remember that, she was so rude! Mrs. Palanchi never did anything about the girls who bullied Mari. It made me cry.”

“Aw, it’s okay. Marinette can’t get bothered by them now,” Juleka patted her head and blew a raspberry onto her cheek that had her girlfriend’s sullen expression go all giddy again.

After knowing Rose for so many years, she knew the blondie was a walking mood-whiplash, so she wasn’t really surprised.

“Wait, wait,” Azel held up a hand, drawing attention as his eyebrows pinched together. “Your girl’s name is Marinette? I thought it was Melody!”

“Nope,” The young heroine says. “It’s Marinette, you can call me Mari though. Rockstar here just calls me Melody.”

“Well then it’s nice to meet you, Marinette.” Axel did a playful bow, reminding her of a different boy in black. “This prick was always shy about the details even when he could go on and on for literal hours about you. Where’d you meet?”

“Erm…”

What was an appropriate way to say ‘his room because I was having a breakdown over a different guy that I was in love with and we sort of just clicked from there after he teased me about my stutter’?

“Jules had her over to watch the band practice,” Luka, thankfully, cut in— probably having felt her body tense slightly. “We became friends after that and just got closer since then.”

Not as close as she wanted, as she’d rather be a girlfriend than best friend but this was Luka and she’d take as much as him as she could and love it until she didn’t know how to anymore.

“When did you guys start dating?” Tyra asks, popping the gum that she just put into her mouth. “Couple years, right?”

Luka’s silent for a painfully long second before informing, “We’re not dating.”

Someone Marinette doesn’t see who but would take a wild guess that it’s Bash as he starts choking on the water he had been trying to swallow and the other two bandmates start protesting their confusion.

Sometimes she questioned if Luka still liked her— but Marinette had her fair share in experiencing unrequited feelings and she knows that this is not what that looks like— and it’s times like these that she hopes against hope that he likes her as much as she likes him because she fell and she fell hard and she can’t be the only one who fell.

Not again, not this time.

Not with him.

The next hour passes by in a breeze. Mylene and Ivan show up with Marc and soon Kitty Section is practicing, the other band handing out advice and compliments where they’re earned and Anarka drifting off to an unknown place to let the teenagers ‘cause mayhem as they please’.

Ivan and Mylene left early for a double date they had been planning with Alya and Nino and somehow they managed to convince Marc to drag Nate along so it was a group date.

Eventually everyone settled down into a circle around eight at night, having eaten and caught up or got to know each other better.

Marinette learned that Tyra was a little snarky but overall entertaining in the way she so passionately hated everything but loved to mess with Bash— Bash himself was a bit of an idiot but a goofball and it made him loveable enough to forgive the scabs on her palms (Luka didn’t agree with this). Axel was Luka’s best friend and he was a generally sane person but he was fiercely competitive and loved to cause arguments.

It was the most fun the young heroine had in a while and the boy she loved was by her side, so what could go wrong?

“Let’s play Truth or Dare,” Rose giggled, turning to Juleka with wide, puppy-dog eyes. “Oh, please! Can we?”

And like the lovesick fool Jules was she gave in.

Marinette knew something was either going to go wrong or horribly embarrassing from her by the wicked gleam in the purple haired girl’s eyes and, not even five minutes later (and after Bash was dared to drink hotdog juice), Luka got a dare.

Do Seven Minutes in Heaven with ‘his Melody’.

Stupid Juleka.

But also thank you Juleka.

Which— after making sure it was okay with her— he agreed to so it was safe to say all her nerves were on fire. And it absolutely didn’t help that Tyra snarkingly called out, “If you start bumping uglies, put on a sock on the door.” after them.

“One of these days,” Luka sighed out as he closed his bedroom door behind them. “I’m really going to kill my sister.”

“I’ll help,” Marinette giggled at her, though her face was still a burning red at what Tyra had insinuated— which they, of course, wouldn’t be doing.

“So,” He said and her smile widened at his semi-awkward tone, her hands bracing herself against the hatch as she watched the musician sit on his bed, twisting the bracelet on his wrist. “What now?”

She wouldn’t say it was entertaining watching Luka be so nervous but it definitely wasn’t something she saw very often so it definitely was amusing in some sense of the word. Usually she was the awkward one who didn’t know what to do with herself, not him.

“What?” She raised an eyebrow. “You don’t know how to play?”

Luka gave her a flat look, “I’m in University now. Of course I know how to play seven minutes in heaven.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“Baby…” He sighed. “Don’t get me wrong, because I do want to kiss you, I just— I don’t think… fuck, this is why I have my guitar.” He grumbled. “Words are not my thing.”

“That’s okay,” Marinette smiles at him, tugging his jacket’s sleeves down further her arms. “I mean, you’ve seen my stammering. We’ll just not be good with words together.”

“Together?” Luka questions, a slight quirk to his lips as his head tilted, teal hair obscuring his eyes.

“Mhm,” She nods. “Together. You and me.”

“I like the sound of that,” He smirks back at her, reaching slightly to tug her forward, the young heroine now standing between his legs. “You asked if I knew how to play— it’s my turn for the question. Want me to teach you how?”

“And you say you’re not good with words,” She sasses, a giggle falling from her mouth as Luka rolls his eyes and takes her chin into his hand, dragging her face down so they are eye-level, both of their eyes closing, and kisses her.

It’s not a heated kiss, not one that had Marinette’s heart racing but… it was one that made something slot into place in her mind, like something was missing before but finally found its way home.

As his mouth moved against hers, she leaned into his touch, hands fluttering through his hair and tugging as the strands, his own moving to cup the back of her neck and to the side of her jaw, angling her head for better access.

The emotions spilled out between them; the love they kept tucked into their sleeves, the joy, the passion and overwhelming amount of just… feeling safe and comfortable with each other.

It was by no means a kiss without soul.

Luka would go back to his university and she’d be stuck here for another month, their lives were so different and they were busy. Marinette had the responsibilities with the Miraculous and he had his band and they both had classes and a future neither could write out a solid plan for no matter how hard they tried.

So maybe it wasn’t the best timing, maybe it wasn’t the best situation or the best reason to kiss or the best way they could have gotten together, by a surprise visit nonetheless— but they were together.

And, at the end of the day, that’s all that matters, isn’t it?

[jksangelic]

heaven’s winter (m)

RATING: M

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

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

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

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

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

WORD COUNT: 18,600

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

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

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

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

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

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

Part One

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

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

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

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

You suppose, not even the nagging of your aunts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Part Two

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good luck!”

“Watch your surroundings, little one.”

“Come home and don’t wander off!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Taehyung…”

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

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

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

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

 Part Three

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Don't dilly-dally!"

"Come straight home."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

More howls from them, more cries from you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Part Four

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The voice scolds, “Hey, slow.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Part Five

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

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

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

“Ah, human. You’re awake.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Part Six

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

❋

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Because I was hurt."

"How were you hurt?"

"Next question."

"What are you reading?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Part Seven

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No reply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What were you doing, human?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Leave." So you do.

 Part Eight

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Confused, you nod.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Part Nine

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

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

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

“That was a horrible shot,” he said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Watch this.”

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

“Shoot.”

And it landed perfectly.

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

❋

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

"Do you like storms?" You asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yoongi..."

"Yes?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Alright, time for bed."

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

❋

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You must miss him then.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t know what you mean.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart stammers, “But Taehyung…”

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

“Do you love him?”

“W-What?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Part Ten

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

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

❋

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Final Part

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

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

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

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

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

“Would you like to join me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll miss you, Yoongi.”

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

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

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

“No.”

“Why don’t you ask for more.”

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

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

“No.”

“Is it him? Taehyung?”

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

He grows impatient, “Do you love him?”

You don’t waver, “No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My love, look at me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let’s talk about it after?”

“Mmm.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yoongi!”

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

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

“Uncover your eyes,” he orders deeply.

You whimper, begging for mercy.

“Look. At. Me.”

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

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

“How do you feel, lovely?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry. It just feels so good.”

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

“Squeeze,” he pleads and you oblige.

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

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

“Now you’re just bragging!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is this better, Y/N?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongi!”

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

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

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

“A lot,” you complain.

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

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

“Yoongi?”

“Yes?”

“I need to go home tomorrow.”

His heart sinks, “Oh?”

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. And Yoongi?”

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

“More than anything.”

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

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

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

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

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

❋ masterlist ❋

[entity9silvergen]

Thought That Cupid Shot Me With Love But It Was Only An Aro (Naruto Fanfiction)

Summary: Soulmates were supposed to be the other half of your soul. Your one true love. Ino always dreamed of finding her soulmate. Sai never wanted one. Still, they cared for each other so they were going to make it work. Somehow.

Relationships: Sai & Ino, Sai/ Ino, Sai & Team Kakashi, Sai & Team Asuma, Sai & Shin, Referenced Naruto/ Hinata, Referenced Sasuke/ Sakura, Referenced Kakashi/ Guy, Referenced Shikamaru/ Temari, Referenced Choji/ Karui

Characters: Sai, Ino Yamanaka, Shikamaru Nara, Choji Akimichi, Shin, Kakashi

Warnings: Minor aphobia

Other: AroWriMo 2021, Soulmate AU, Aroace Sai, Aro/ Allo Relationship, Oneshot, Aromantic Writer, Queer Themes, QPRs

Word Count: 10K

Author’s Note: This story was written for Aromantic Writing Month 2021! I’ve been wanting to write an aromantic Soulmate AU for awhile and decided to finally write it when I realized Aro Writing Month was approaching. Prompt for week 1 was Romo/ Loveless & Future which kind of aligns with this fic. 

The title comes from the song Not In Love by Natalia Kills.

This is my first time writing a soulmate AU and also my first time writing an aromantic character. I’d just like to say I don’t really like the idea of aromantic/ alloromantic soulmates because it implies they both have to compromise in some way but I’ve always wanted to see how that kind of relationship would be navigated so here we are. 

Some characters are mildly aphobic but there’s nothing hateful or extreme. It’s mostly just people not understanding.

Also this fic skips around through time a bit and begins before Sai gets his name in canon but I am just going to call him Sai because it’s kind of awkward to avoid using it. A few minor deviations from canon are taken just for convenience. 

___________

As long as Ino could remember, she’d had a massive, stark white tiger with jet black stripes wrapped around her arm.

She didn’t really question it’s presence. Everyone had marks on their bodies as far as she knew. Once she was old enough to really recognize what it was, however, she did find it a bit odd. Compared to the bright red bush clover on her mother’s upper arm and the aquamarine instrument on her father’s leg, a black and white tiger seemed strange. She tried asking about it but no one seemed to understand her confusion. They just saw it was any other soulmark with nothing out of the ordinary.

It wasn’t until she was a couple years into her training at the Academy that she really understood what the tiger on her skin meant.

She’d been sitting on the grassy hill where her Kunoichi classes were held with her friend Sakura. It was early spring and tiny flowers were beginning to sprout out of the ground. Idly, Ino plucked them out of the earth and slowly began tying their stems into a chain. What for, she did not know. She just needed something to occupy herself until the teacher arrived. She was running a bit late and once she arrived, Ino understood why.

“Hello class!” the teacher called once she reached the top of the hill, dropping a bag of books at her feet. They hit the grass with a loud thump. The bag was a lot heavier than it looked, no wonder it had slowed her down. “Sorry for the delay!”

“What are those books for?” Sakura called out, voicing the rest of the girl’s thoughts.

“Oh these?” the teacher said, picking up one of the books. “We’re going to use these books to help with the lesson. Today we’re going to talk about soulmarks.”

Soulmark. The word struck a chord in Ino’s mind. It sounded familiar yet she didn’t have the slightest idea what it meant. She sensed it was important though. Intrigued, she rested her arms on her knees and leaned forward a bit. She didn’t say anything, positive Sakura and all her newly discovered chattiness would do it for her. “What’s a soulmark?”

The teacher’s eyes glowed in a way Ino had never seen before as she sat down and threw herself into her explanation. “You see those designs on your bodies?”

Ino looked down at the tiger on her arm and felt a flash of excitement. Was she finally going to learn the meaning behind it?

“Those are soulmarks. You see, the universe is very wise and knows who we are destined to fall in love with,” the teacher told them, smiling at the wondrous expressions appearing on the girls’ faces. Ino tried to wipe the look off her own features but she couldn’t help it. This was nothing like flower arranging at all. That was fun but this was important. “That’s why we’re born with these marks. They give us hints about what our soulmates are like and tell us how to find them.”

A few girls squealed and made soft noises expressing their delight but Ino remained quiet, eyes wide as she ran her fingertips over the tiger’s curved stripes. She’d done so countless times before but now it felt different. Almost humbling. This mark told her who she was meant to fall in love with? That was amazing. Almost unbelievable. 

“I read a story book about soulmates once,” declared a girl Ino couldn’t remember the name of. “It said soulmates are each other’s one true love and we’re all meant to find each other some day. Some people have to travel really far to find their soulmate!”

“That’s true,” the teacher said with a nod, “but usually our soulmates aren’t too far away. I knew my soulmate since we were kids but we didn’t realize until we were much older. Sometimes we need time to develop as people before our soulmarks make sense. We need time to grow into them.”

“I heard that Hyuga girl has a ramen bowl on her somewhere,” another girl spoke up. She made an over exaggerated face of disgust. “The only person who eats ramen enough for the universe is that dumb Uzumaki kid. I’d bet anything they’re soulmates.”

“Now, Yaka,” the teacher chided, “it’s not nice to make assumptions about other people’s soulmates, let alone talk about their soulmarks behind their backs. Soulmarks are a private thing.”

Ino noticed the teacher didn’t scold Yaka for the way she was talking about Naruto and Hinata. She didn’t know what that was about but she didn’t really like it. She didn’t have the faintest idea who her soulmate was but she hoped no one made fun of him for her soulmark, whatever it was. As troubling as her mark was, she loved it and knew she would one day love her soulmate as much as the tiger on her arm. And he was supposed to love her just as much, right? They were destined to be together after all. Each other’s true love.

“I hope mine is Sasuke,” Sakura sighed dreamily, clutching her hands together.

Ino snapped out of her romantic daydreams and blew air out through her mouth, making her blond bangs move out of her face, as she rolled her eyes. “We’re too young to really know, Sakura. Don’t get your hopes up.”

“Color is the best indicator to go off of,” the teacher told them, eyes drifting to the mark on Sakura’s hand. “Red isn’t an uncommon color in the soulmarks of the Uchiha.”

Ino’s mouth twisted in annoyance. Their teacher was indulging her? Really? At least Sakura seemed happy about it. And Ino would be lying if she said she didn’t think Sakura’s mark may one day fit their classmate. The scarlet feather of a hawk covered the back of her hand, the middle bleeding into a pale purple that stretched the shaft into a long snake trailing up her arm. It was a pretty cool soulmark, Ino had to admit. Two animals in one mark? And so colorful. Maybe that meant Sakura’s soulmate had a lot of character to him. Or that he really liked animals. Did Sasuke like animals? But like the others, it made her uneasy about her own.

“What if your soulmark doesn’t have any colors?” Ino asked, raising her hand. When the teacher’s eyes flickered to her arm, Ino put her arm down and covered her mark with her hand. She tried her best not to look down in shame to no avail then immediately hated herself for it. Then she decided she hated her teacher for the look she was giving her. How dare she make Ino feel ashamed of her soulmark and, by extension, her soulmate? 

The teacher’s judgemental look vanished in a heartbeat, replaced by a cheery facade, and she handed Ino the book she was holding. “That’s a good question! Everyone, take a book and try to find any characteristics that might match your soulmark. You might be able to learn something about your soulmate!”

Ino wasn’t oblivious to the fact her question was ignored but Sakura was tugging at the book in her hands, excited to see what it’s contents could tell her. Ino shook her negativity away and laughed, scolding her friend into settling down and sharing the book.

They spent the whole afternoon flipping through the pages, gazing at the beautiful soulmarks within, and Ino found nothing about colorless soulmarks. Like many things regarding her soulmate, she didn’t know what to think of that.

___________

Sai thought he was markless until he was eight.

He knew what soulmarks were, of course. They were impossible to miss, especially since he lived in such close quarters with everyone he trained with. He’d just never seen one on his own body so he just figured he didn’t have one. And he was pretty okay with that. 

This batch of ROOT recruits were being trained in a Hidden Mist style so they spent a fair amount of time on the water. The instructor had begun teaching the Water Natured recruits how to use Water Style: Liquid Bullets recently so today that part of the group was polishing their jutsu while the rest of the recruits practiced dodging on a moving surface of water. It was a good exercise for everyone.

The only problem was all the Water Style users kept nailing Sai with their jutsu.

Normally Sai wouldn’t mind. He was a fast ninja and he was pretty good at dodging. The only problem was that there were so many and a few were bound to hit now and again. It was just that it was more than a few. And he seemed to be the only one getting hit. It was enough that the instructor asked him to get off the water and practice his Earth Style on his own until they were done.

“Maybe we can ask the instructor if you can wear a shirt next time,” Shin said casually once the session was over and the group was heading back to base. “I mean, it’ll get all wet if you fall in but it’s better than getting hit with Liquid Bullets the whole time.”

“What?” Sai peered at his brother, confused. “Why would wearing a shirt change anything?”

“Um, because of your soulmark?”

“I have a soulmark?”

Shin’s hands dropped from their place folded behind his head as he came to a stop to gape at his brother. “You didn’t know you have a soulmark?”

“No. Should I have?”

“Yes!” Shin exclaimed, throwing his hands up. “Soulmarks are important! They tell you who you’re going to fall in love with and- wait. If you didn’t know you had a soulmark, why did you think everyone kept shooting you with their jutsu?”

“I thought maybe it was some kind of strategy to pick off a weak link.”

“You’re not a weak link!” Shin exclaimed, louder this time. Sai didn’t really understand what he was getting upset over but he hoped he’d get over it soon. The instructors didn’t really like it when the students got worked up like this. “Your soulmark just makes a giant target on your back. It’s easy to aim for so everyone goes for it.”

“Oh.” That made sense, he supposed. “What is it? My soulmark, I mean.”

“It’s a flower. I don’t know what kind.”

“What does it mean to have a flower soulmark?”

Shin shrugged. “I have no idea. I think I heard flowers are kind of rare since all girls like flowers. Hey, maybe that means your soulmate is a boy. The universe might think boys liking flowers is weird enough to make it soulmark-worthy.”

“I don’t think it’s weird for boys to like flowers.”

“So you think your soulmate is a boy?”

“I don’t know. I don’t really care.”

“Come on,” Shin whined. “You’ve got to care a little bit!”

“Not really. I’ve never wanted a soulmate.”

“Really?” Shin sounded surprised, far more surprised than Sai thought he would. “Well, maybe that’s just because you didn’t think you had one. Maybe now it’ll change.”

Sai didn’t think so but he didn’t tell Shin. He didn’t think he’d understand.

________

Ino was nine when she felt a blinding pain shooting up from her soulmark.

It wasn’t sudden. In fact, it was very slow. A gentle static that turned into overwhelming agony. Ino had felt emotions through the soulbond before, however rare, but never to this degree. The initial surprise was faint, easily mistakable for her own feelings, but the adrenaline and fear that followed most certainly were not.

Iruka seemed to notice something was wrong because by the time the first wave of crippling despair hit, he’d already yelled for a student to take charge of the class and had ushered her out into the hallway. She was dimly aware of what was happening around her through it all. If she’d been more clear headed, she would’ve worried more about keeping it together in the presence of her classmates but right now she could only think about the hurt, fear, and grief rippling through her. 

Her soulmark burned, sending bolts of emotion up her body, welling her throat shut and tightening her chest with raw, unfiltered emotion. It was like water boiling up in a kettle that exploded into a scalding ocean instead of steam. Like someone had injected lightning into her body and let it fry her heart. Like being surrounded by a heavy cloud of darkness that sucked any light out of her. 

Never before had she felt such a thing and she didn’t know how to handle it. She didn’t understand where it was coming from or why this was happening to her. But then it just… stopped. Like nothing had happened.

She regained control of her breath as the sharp grip around her receded. She felt the sobs die in her throat and clean oxygen fill her lungs once again. She hadn’t even noticed she’d been crying until now. Tears stained her face and Iruka’s shoulder but there were fewer than before. It was now that she realized she had collapsed on the ground in the hallway, body pressed against the rough wood floor. The realization didn’t make her want to get up any more though. She could lie here for the rest of her life for all she cared. She kind of wanted to. Lying here in this sleepy, numb fog that clouded her mind sounded like a good idea.

“Are you alright?” Iruka asked, her sensei’s worried tone drawing her back to reality.

“What happened?” Ino groaned, sitting up to meet his gaze. The concern was evident on his face but he looked relieved to see that she was okay. She felt a prickle of guilt knowing she was responsible for his worry. What was that anyway? It just came out of nowhere then left just as fast. Absently, her hand drifted to her soulmark. Any echo of its earlier noise was long gone. It was as silent as the dead of night. “I feel…”

“I think something happened to your soulmate,” Iruka told her softly, helping her sit up against the wall. He shifted a bit so he sat across from her. For that, Ino was grateful. She didn’t think she could handle getting up right now.

“My soulmate?”

“You’ve felt things through your soulbond before, right?” Iruka asked. Ino nodded as she wiped her face free of any stray tears. “Well, sometimes when our soulmates are in a lot of pain or distress, we can feel it through the soulbond.”

“How come?” Ino asked, genuinely curious. The pain she felt was probably nothing compared to what he was feeling so she could stomach a bit of it for her soulmate’s sake but she didn’t understand why the universe would place that upon her or anyone else. That just seemed cruel.

“Well…” Iruka trailed off for a moment, hesitating, before the words came to him. “Soulmates are a big part of our lives. They’re the other half of our soul. Our bond doesn’t begin when we meet. We usually love our partners a long time before we meet them.”

Ino nodded, following along so far. Sure, she didn’t know a thing about her soulmate, save what her soulmark told her, but he had a special place in her heart that only grew with each spark she felt through the bond. He was one of the most important things to her in the whole world. It felt kind of strange to call it love but any other word felt short of capturing what she felt. He was essentially a stranger yet, at the same time, he was the furthest thing from it.

“Soulmates support each other throughout their whole lives,” Iruka explained. “When our soulmates feel pain, we can comfort them through our soulbonds.”

“How?” Ino asked, leaning forward a bit. She desperately wanted to. The hopelessness and agony that had rooted itself in her chest had faded but if her soulmate was still feeling anything close to it…

“Just think about how much you love them,” Iruka told her with a lopsided smile, “and how much you want to be there for him. Try to focus those feelings through your soulbond.”

Ino nodded and tried her hardest to do as her sensei instructed her. But how could she express feelings for someone she’d never met? She could imagine her soulmate and the future they’d have together but that wasn’t real. It was all in her head and all she had to go off of inspiration-wise were stories and dreams. She was still young enough to indulge in the occasional fantasy or day dream but she was also a ninja. Ninja were realists and realistically, she knew nothing about what he was like and she didn’t have a real reason to love him the way she did.

But that didn’t mean the love she had wasn’t real. It was ingrained deep into her being, as deep as the bond tying her to her partner. It was a love that made warmth hum in her chest and the corners of her mouth twitch into a smile at the mere thought of it. Love so powerful she couldn’t put it into words. She just didn’t have the vocabulary and she didn’t think the right words even existed.

It didn’t make sense but it was real. The universe, spirits, god, sages, whatever was up there- It had made a decision and it was a good one. There was no reason to believe it but Ino knew it like a universal truth. He was destined for her and she was more than happy to be destined for him. Ino loved her other half however little sense it made. She’d always wanted him to know that and maybe now she could tell him through the soulbond if she tried hard enough.

She didn’t know what he was feeling. She didn’t know what he could possibly be experiencing that would make him feel this way. She just hoped that maybe she could help, even if it was just a little bit.

“How will I know if he can feel it?” Ino asked after a while. She felt a lot better. Her breath had regulated, the dampness in her eyes had dried, and her body felt a lot less heavy than it had when she sat down.

“There’s not really any way to tell immediately,” Iruka told her, getting to his knees before standing up. He offered Ino a hand to pull her up. She accepted it and began following him back to the classroom. “Your soulmate is probably going through a lot right now and he might not know how to respond or feel ready to. But, I’ve heard that soulmates sometimes send their thanks a few weeks after something big happens and feelings start passing through the bond a bit more easily. I’m sure he’ll be sending you some happiness in no time.”

Iruka’s words were a comfort and Ino momentarily forgot her worries and skipped back to class. But weeks later when Iruka asked her if she and her soulmate were doing better, Ino couldn’t answer. There wasn’t a hint of emotion coming through the bond anymore.

_________

It was over seven years since Shin died before Sai was shirtless around anyone again.

It wasn’t really something he’d thought about. Who thought about that kind of thing? He had plenty of other things to think about. His missions, crossing faces out of his bingo books, his art… Being shirtless was such an insignificant thing in his life that he never spared it a second thought. His training had ended with his brother’s death and there wasn’t really a need for him to change clothes or go swimming with someone. And without Shin or anyone else looking at his back, he’d almost forgotten his soulmark. There were a few flashes of feeling through the bond now and again but Sai was usually too dull to notice and he usually dismissed them without question. The existence of his soulmark didn’t affect his life in the slightest.

Imagine his confusion when Naruto wouldn’t stop staring at him after Captain Yamato dumped the two of them in a hot spring together. 

“Why do you keep looking at me, dickless?” Sai asked, smiling at how Naruto’s face soured at the nickname. He’d done well choosing it. “I was under the impression you were tired of being around me.”

“I am!” Naruto snapped indignantly. He crossed his arms and was silent for a moment. When Sai didn’t say anything, he caved and explained himself. “I… I was looking for your soulmark. Do you have one?”

Sai paused for a moment before nodding. “I do.”

Naruto’s gaze softened a bit and the hostility drained off his face. “It’s on your back, isn’t it? I didn’t see anything before you got in the water.”

“Why do you care?”

“I didn’t really think about it until you came in here and I didn’t see anything on you so I thought you might be markless. It’s… I dunno, it’s harder to stay mad at you knowing you’ve got a soulmate.”

“Why?

Naruto shrugged casually. “Knowing you love someone just makes you feel more human.”

If Sai were an expressive man, he would’ve made a face. One of anger or horror, he didn’t know. Angry Sai would’ve splashed Naruto in the face with a handful of water. Horrified Sai would’ve come up with a bad excuse and hurried out of the hot spring. But Sai wasn’t an expressive man so instead, he shut his mouth and sank into the water, trying not to think about the implication of his new teammate’s words. ___________

Ino met Sai at The Barbeque Place.

The Barbeque Place wasn’t actually called The Barbeque Place. They just called it that enough that it deserved to be called The Barbeque Place with the capitalization of the title and everything. It was actually called Yakiniku Q but no one cared. Team Asuma would convince everyone it was called The Barbeque Place until the owner changed the sign or they’d die trying.

Going to The Barbeque Place was the only way to properly celebrate anything Team Asuma style. Ino, Choji, and Shikamaru had only seen Naruto a couple of times since he returned to the village so when they saw him coming back from a mission, they knew they had to grab him then or they’d never get the chance to drag him to the restaurant and welcome their friend home.

The fact they had a new teammate with them was an added bonus.

Sai seemed nice. Kind of strange though. Ino didn’t know if it was just odd having someone new on Team 7 after so long or if it was just Sai’s general personality. She supposed she liked him but if it was anyone less good looking, Ino would definitely be upset Sasuke was getting replaced.

“So you’re ANBU, right?” Shikamaru asked the newcomer when the uncooked food had arrived and the early stages of conversation were over.

“How could you tell?”

“The uniform was a bit of a giveaway.”

“Noted.”

“ANBU?” Choji echoed, looking intrigued. His brief pause was long enough for Ino to take the opportunity to swipe a couple pieces of meat off the grill and shovel them onto Sai’s plate. Apparently pausing did not mean he was distracted though. “Ino!”

“Be nice! You don’t want to scare him off with your gross manners this early, do you?”

“I guess not…” Choji mumbled sullenly. His demeanor changed again in a heartbeat when a piece of perfectly cooked meat caught his eye. He plucked it up with his chopsticks and plopped it into his mouth, chewing the slices of beef happily, anger forgotten. 

Shikamaru, always the sharp one, picked up where Choji left off before his distraction. “So what’s that like? ANBU, I mean.”

Sai smiled passively. “I don’t think it’s too different from what shinobi teams do, just more isolated and the training is more rigorous.” 

“Really?” Sakura said, half distracted by trying to nab a piece of meat before Choji got his chopsticks on it. “I don’t know a lot about ANBU, even working so close with Lady Tsunade, but I’ve heard some bad rumors over the years.”

“Eh? Really? But Kakashi-sensei always seems happy wherever he talks about it,” Naruto replied. He swiped a piece of meat off Sai’s plate and popped it into his mouth before anyone could say anything. Ino would’ve scolded him but Sai didn’t seem to care. In fact, he seemed amused. It was hard believing someone as soft-spoken and gentle as Sai was a member of ANBU.

“Kakashi-sensei is Kakashi-sensei,” Sakura responded, brushing him off. “He doesn’t tell us anything and you never know if he’s actually happy or if he just hit a juicy part of those pervy books he’s always reading.”

“Eh, good point,” Naruto conceded through a full mouth, “but now we have Sai here to tell us stuff! I bet he’s a lot easier to talk to than Kakashi-sensei.”

Sai’s face remained passive but Choji and even Shikamaru seemed interested. Noticing, Sai sighed and gave in. “What do you want to know?”

“So you said ANBU was really lonely, right?” Shikamaru said, casually taking a piece of meat. Unsurprisingly, Choji let him and didn’t protest. “What about soulmates?”

“What about them?”

“I’ve heard they don’t let people search for their soulmates,” Sakura spoke up as she put a few vegetables on the grill. “They just have to live knowing their soulmate is out there wondering where they are and why they haven’t found them yet.”

“Well I heard they don’t let ANBU have soulmates at all,” Choji said, trying to wave Sakura’s chopsticks away from the grill. “Like they burn them off or make them stay covered all the time and that kind of thing.”

“I can confirm that isn’t true,” Sai said with a smile, sounding humored. “A lot of people have soulmates. Some of the best two-man teams and small units are made of soulmates, actually. We’re just not allowed to search outside of ANBU. My instructors always said it compromises our security.”

“That’s too bad,” Naruto commented and poked Sakura’s hand with his chopsticks. She yelped and pulled her hand away, allowing Choji to successfully steer the vegetables away from the grill and put down another couple pieces of beef. “But now that you’re out of ANBU, you can look for your soulmate, right?”

Sai said nothing and shrugged half-heartedly. 

“You do want to find your soulmate, right?” Ino asked, putting down her chopsticks to look at him instead of swooping in to aid Sakura. Choji really had to eat his greens. Naruto too but it wasn’t every day her friends got a new teammate. Right now he was a bit more interesting than a poking war.

This time, Sai had a clear answer to the question. “Not particularly.” 

“How?!” Ino’s plate clattered on the table slightly. She put a hand on it to stop it from falling but she could feel herself getting even more worked up. She sensed her friends giving her confused looks at her outburst. She tried her best to ignore them. “Your soulmate- Your soulmate is the other half of your soul! Without them, you’re incomplete. How could you not want to find them?”

Again, Sai shrugged.

“I’ve just never been interested in having a romantic relationship. Or any kind of relationship,” Sai said neutrally. He smiled and this time it was kind of infuriating instead of cute. “If it happens, it happens but I don’t particularly want to seek it out.”

“Isn’t it your destiny though?” Ino pressed. “To find your true love?”

“I thought you’d given up on that stuff,” Choji commented idly as he placed some new pieces of meat on the grill, “since you haven’t felt anything through your soulbond in years.”

Something inside Ino snapped. “Well, you’re just as far behind as me, fatso!”

In hindsight, that probably wasn’t the best move but getting the restaurant destroyed by Choji’s Human Boulder was worth it to escape that conversation. _________

It was well after the war had ended by the time the village’s Intelligence Division summoned Sai to lock up the members of the Seven Swordsmen that he’d sealed. 

The village was recovering well but the months after the end of the war had been chaotic. There were far too many things more important to worry about than who’d sealed their enemies and where their bodies were so Fuguki Suikazan and Jinin Akebino’s scrolls just ended up sitting in Sai’s apartment. It was only when someone from the Third Division was retelling the war story that everyone remembered they hadn’t given the sealed bodies to the Intelligence Division. Sai hadn’t really thought it was important but apparently it was important enough for the Hokage to send Ino, Shikamaru, and Choji running to his apartment in the middle of the day to retrieve them.

“I can’t believe you had these things just lying around for a whole year. What a drag…” Shikamaru complained as the shinobi carried the two scrolls through the front doors of the Analysis Division’s building. Between the four of them, it was a bit awkward but they were managing. Sai was surprised he and Lee had been able to carry these things around on the battlefield. Right now, they seemed so heavy. “I wish I’d known Intel involved so much running around before I joined…”

“Aw, you like it,” Choji said cheerfully. It went unsaid that Ino and Shikamaru were working in the Intelligence Division because there was no one else to fill their fathers’ shoes but Sai heard it in his voice. “And all this running around gives us the chance to see our friends more often!”

“You don’t even work here. You can see our friends whenever you want!” Ino groaned as they began heading into the underground storage unit. “Slow down guys, I don’t really want to fall down the stairs in front of all these Jonin. But he’s right, Sai. It’s nice seeing you. It feels like it’s been forever.”

Sai hummed in agreement and tried his best to convey the joy he got from seeing his friends again. After seeing Shin again and mastering the Crouched Tiger Bullet, it came a lot easier to him but years of underusing his facial expressions made it less than natural. “Indeed. Where are we putting these?”

Everyone looked to Shikamaru. The boy didn’t seem fazed. “These guys are dead, right? We should transfer them to body scrolls. Easier for the Analysis Team to… analyze them or whatever whenever they decide to. You know how to use that kind of sealing, right Sai?”

Sai nodded as they reached the bottom of the stairwell. “I do.”

“Great,” Shikamaru grunted as the group reached the bottom of the stairs and dropped the heavy scrolls on the concrete floor. “Ugh, do they really need to be this big?”

“It’s a difficult sealing jutsu. It requires a lot of ink.”

“Yeah, yeah. Come on, let’s start unrolling this thing. Sai, there are some body scrolls over by the storage unit. Go grab whatever one you think will work best.”

Sai nodded and did as he was told, drifting off to the edges of the basement in search of the right tools. He wasn’t terribly experienced in any kind of sealing jutsu other than his own and he took his time finding a compatible scroll but after a couple minutes, he realized Team Asuma’s usual bickering had died down and the three had fallen into an unusual silence. Concerned, he stuck his head out of the storage area to check on them. “Are you alright?”

“Sai… Come here please,” Ino said in an unusual tone. Sai frowned. Her pale green eyes were fixed on something on the ground. Was something wrong with his seal? Had one of the Swordsmen somehow escaped? They were dead so it wouldn’t be the end of the world but it would be kind of a hassle to track down the body.

He stepped into the entry area and saw nothing out of the ordinary. One of the scrolls, Fuguki’s scroll, was unraveled, exposing the seal work and the swordsman's trapped form. Shikamaru, Ino, and Choji were just… staring at it? Sai couldn’t fathom why. Maybe they thought this method of sealing was immoral? It really wasn’t different from any other kind of sealing. Was the sight of the body on the page unsettling them?

“Sai, what is this?” Choji said in an uncharacteristically empty voice. 

Sai took a few steps to join them beside the scroll. He peered at it, trying to see anything that was out of place or didn’t belong. Fuguki was still there, held in by his sealing tiger’s sharp claws. Was his sword in there? No, no it wasn’t. They’d returned the Seven Swords to the Hidden Cloud a while ago. He remembered because that was when Choji had realized he and that girl Karui were soulmates. It’d been a whole thing. “I don’t see anything wrong.”

Ino held up her marked arm and Sai suddenly realized what was happening here.

“...Oh.”

“Oh? Oh?! That’s all you have to say?” Shikamaru practically shouted, taking an angry step toward him. “Ino- she- You saw her soulmark the day you met us. Why didn’t you say anything? Do you know how long she- Are you really that heartless?”

Sai flinched at his words. He didn’t mean to but he couldn’t help it. Regaining some level of emotion also meant losing some of his composure. He hoped the others hadn’t noticed but he wasn’t the hopeful type. “I…”

Choji put a hand on Shikamaru’s shoulder. He looked just as upset as his friend but Choji was too gentle and kind-hearted to take out his anger on anyone. And for that, Sai was eternally grateful. “Shikamaru, maybe we should go. Shouldn’t this kind of thing be between soulmates?”

Shikamaru looked like he wanted to argue but he shook himself and took a deep breath to calm down. Sai knew Shikamaru could get scary when he wanted to and hurting his friend definitely put Sai in danger of becoming a victim of his intellect. Thank the sages for Choji or Sai was fairly certain he’d have a Shadow Stitch aimed at his head right now.

“Just… Just talk to her, man,” Shikamaru sighed tiredly, sounding several times his age, and turned to head back up the stairs, Choji trailing behind him. Sai half expected him to turn around to give him some kind of warning or threat not to mess this up and hurt his teammate but he didn’t. He just kept walking until it was just him and Ino. Alone. In a basement. With a dead rogue-ninja and a tiger staring at them. Not really the best setting for a heart to heart.

The two didn’t say anything for a few minutes, just pale green eyes boring into inky black. What was there to say? What was someone supposed to say when they found their soulmate? What if it should have been obvious they were soulmates from the start and one hadn’t said anything? What was someone who never wanted a soulmate supposed to do when his soulmate so clearly longed for one? Sai had so many questions and the answers to none.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Ino asked, breaking the silence.

“I didn’t know.”

“Don’t give me that.”

It was true, in a sense. He really didn’t know. Sai had recognized the tiger when he saw it for the first time but only in the back of his mind. He was far from a master of emotions and farther from a master of his jutsu. Was the jutsu really even his then? It didn’t feel like it so maybe he didn’t recognize the mark on Ino’s arm as his own. 

Still, it was his art style. He’d recognized it immediately and always would. His art was such a big part of him and he didn’t dream of denying it so that couldn’t have been it. And it couldn’t be his lack of emotions because he wasn’t really lacking them, they were just suppressed. As guilty as it made him feel, it was very possible the truth was just that he didn’t want a soulmate. That he didn’t want to know what the universe had planned for him when it came to love.

“It just never occurred to me.”

Sai wasn’t lying but Ino didn’t seem to believe him. No one ever believed him. Not when it came to soulmates. But he wanted Ino to understand so he tried again.

“Remember when we met? When I said I didn’t want to look for my soulmate?”

Ino snorted and put her hands on her hips. “You didn’t need to look. She was right in front of you.”

Okay, he walked right into that one. “I wasn’t thinking about that. I would’ve said that to anyone.”

“Why?” Ino asked, her voice cracking. Sai noticed for the first time that her eyes were glossy. He felt… something. He couldn’t quite identify what it was yet but he knew it was a bad feeling. He couldn’t bring himself to feel sorry though. “I’ve always wanted to meet my soulmate, even before I really understood what my mark meant. I can’t imagine not wanting to find the one person who’s meant to love you unconditionally.”

That made Sai hesitate. He’d never heard it phrased that way particularly. It was making him doubt himself. Why had she said that? She didn’t know how much Sai struggled when it came to maintaining friendships or how lonely he’d been all those years after Shin died. She had no idea how rocky his relationship with love was or how much he craved it. She couldn’t fathom how much it pained him knowing it was always out of reach. Or maybe she could, with the soulbond and all. He cleared his throat. “I’m glad I met you and if I have to have a soulmate, I’m glad it’s you.”

“If you have to have one? What, do you wish you didn’t have one?”

“Sometimes.” Ino’s face dropped but Sai recovered quickly. “I think soulmates are wonderful but I’ve just felt like they’re for me, I suppose.”

“Are you one of those people who believe we should shape our own destiny?”

“No. Yes. Maybe? I don’t know.”

Ino laughed a bit and it sounded fond rather than angry. It gave Sai a spike of confidence. He smiled bashfully. 

“My apologies. I’m not very… articulate when it comes to how I feel. I’ve really only reconnected with my emotions since the war ended,” Sai admitted. Ino opened her mouth but Sai stopped her before she could say what he knew she was going to say. “And my emotional struggles have nothing to do with how I feel about having a soulmate. I think. I remember talking about it with my brother before…”

Something flashed in Ino’s eyes. “Your brother died when you were ten?”

Sai nodded. “You felt it through the soulbond?”

“And nothing after it,” Ino replied with a nod, “until the war. Probably when you saw him again.”

Sai looked down. “...I cried. I hadn’t cried since he died the first time.”

Ino made a sympathetic noise. Sai wasn’t really sure if it made him feel comforted or patronized. Ino seemed to sense he didn’t want to talk about it and that was probably for the better. “So you’ve talked about it with him? How you feel about soulmates?”

“Having a soulmate,” Sai corrected. How he felt about soulmates versus how he felt about having a soulmate were very different. “And yes. I didn’t know I had a soulmark until he told me. But… He never really understood. He was a romantic. I don’t think he really knew that some people just weren’t like that.”

“Like what?”

Sai’s face furrowed with frustration as he tried to find words. “I… I know love. I love my brother. I love Naruto. And Sakura. And maybe Sasuke. I love Kakashi-senpai and Captain Yamato. I love my art and my books. And I love… you. And I know what I feel is real. I think I’ve always felt it, even when I thought I didn’t have emotions and before I knew you were my soulmate. I like being with you but I don’t love you like Shikamaru loves Temari or like Sakura loves Sasuke. Is that okay?”

Sai hadn’t realized he was looking down until Ino took his hands, startling him into looking up at her. She looked a bit sad but not disappointed or angry. She offered him a gentle smile. “Yeah, it’s definitely okay, Sai. I mean, this isn’t really what I expected meeting my soulmate to be like but I’m glad it’s you. I don’t think I’ll mind missing out on some romantic fantasy if it means I get to be with you. If that’s what you want.”

Slowly, Sai nodded and curled his fingers around hers. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to give you a romantic fantasy but I hope I can still make you happy. I want to see where this goes.”

_______________

Two years passed and Ino knew she and Sai weren’t really in a relationship.

They did couples things sometimes. They went out together fairly regularly. They ate at nice restaurants and went on quiet walks through the village. Sai sometimes slept over at her house and she sometimes slept at his apartment. Sai went with her to Naruto and Hinata’s wedding. And Shikamaru and Temari’s wedding. And Sasuke and Sakura’s. And Choji and Karui’s... There was a shocking number of weddings recently.

It was never romantic though. Their “dates” often had a few tag-alongs or didn’t seem all that different from what friends normally did. Sleeping together was never anything more than sleeping. She could count the number of times they’d just shared the bed on one hand. And they never slow danced at the weddings. Their friends didn’t even acknowledge they were together. Maybe they didn’t know. Or maybe they did and just thought they were just having fun with each other until they met their real soulmates. That was a depressing thought.

Ino tried not to let it bother her. She really liked Sai, that never changed, and she enjoyed all the things they did together. It was fun. Maybe even more fun than it would be with someone else since there weren’t any expectations and there weren’t dozens of eyes watching everything they did. Still, part of her longed to have the future she’d always expected. She tried to ignore the part of her before it became too much to keep inside.

But as a clan head, she couldn’t ignore it forever.

She was in some Yamanaka-Nara-Akimichi Clan meeting when it came up. Normally these meetings were uneventful, just a bunch of clan elders hooting about babies and food or whatever, so Ino had been zoning out while they bickered and shuffled papers around the table. But with Shikamaru and Choji both married, she should have expected it.

“...so that brings us to the issue of heirs,” an elder said, snapping Ino’s attention back to the meeting.

All eyes in the room immediately fell on her. She sat up a bit straighter. “What?”

“The Nara Clan head and Akimichi Clan heir have already found their partners and are close to securing their clans’ futures,” the elder went on. Her name was��� Ino wanted to say Chizo? Wait, no. That was an Akimichi name. Chizo was that one over there with her hand deep in a plate of cookies. This was a Yamanaka. What was her name? Ino couldn’t remember for the life of her. “The Yamanaka Clan on the other hand…”

“You think I can’t lead the clan on my own?”

Another elder made a noncomitmental noise. This one’s name was Ezume, Ino was pretty sure. Or maybe Ezuko? Either way, he was a Nara. She knew that much. By the sages, she really should know her own clan elders’ names. She’d known them all her life. How was she this bad with names? It was like she’d gotten worse over the years. “We know your capabilities, Ino, but every clan head must have a husband or wife to help shoulder the responsibilities of leading the clan and bring life to the next generation.”

Ino could practically feel Shikamaru and Choji making faces behind her. The elders were trying to be nice about it but they were basically telling them their wives only mattered to bear children for them and keep some stress off their shoulders. If the clans’ stability didn’t rely on the elders so much, Ino would’ve dragged Temari and Karui in here to speak their minds and slap some sense into them years ago.

The Yamanaka elder was speaking again. Ino wanted to say her name was Fumiko but she was pretty sure she was just thinking about her cousin Fū. They looked kind of similar. What ever happened to him? She hadn’t seen him in years. “You’ve had plenty of time to search for your soulmate. If you haven’t found him, we will choose-”

“Ino’s found her soulmate,” Shikamaru interrupted. His voice dull and bored but his eyes were sharp and telling. Ino wanted to punch him but he was out of reach and she didn’t think the elders would appreciate it much.

“Oh?” the elder, Chizo this time, said, looking interested.

“I’ve heard nothing of this,” another Yamanaka spoke up, sounding annoyed. This one was named Haneen, or at least Ino was pretty sure. Close enough. Ino would consider that a win if she wasn’t struggling to think of a response.

“Uh…”

The elders looked displeased. “Why have we heard nothing of this?”

“Um…. 

Ino looked to Shikamaru and Choji for help but they were already making a break for the door, the traitorous bastards. She turned back to the elders’ angry faces, swallowed away her uneasiness, and steeled herself for the inevitable discomfort that was coming her way. ___________________

Sai was coming back from a mission with Naruto, Sakura, Sasuke, Kakashi and Yamato when he saw Shikamaru and Choji barreling towards him with panic on their faces.

“We didn’t do it!” Naruto yelped immediately, practically springing away from them. “Tell Granny Tsunade it was just part of the mission!”

The two skidded to a stop and Naruto was met with confusion. “What?” 

“...Are you not coming from the Hokage’s office?”

“...No? We were just at a clan meeting. What were you doing?”

“Nothing!”

Sasuke shook his head and sighed while Sakura pinched her brow in exasperation. Sai and Yamato glanced at Kakashi then shared a deadpan look. Naruto really was an idiot sometimes. The Sixth Hokage was standing right next to them. Tsunade was finding out no matter what Shikamaru and Choji heard from them.

Sakura, always the most polite of the bunch, offered Shikamaru and Choji a smile. “Ignore them. Did you need us for something? Do I need to be at the hospital? Or did Kakashi-sensei lose some important paperwork again?”

“If it was really important they wouldn’t let me lose it,” Kakashi piped up lazily.

“We actually came here for Sai,” Choji spoke up. For once, he didn’t have his trusty bag of potato chips in hand. And Ino wasn’t there. That was concerning.

“Is something wrong?”

“Kind of,” Shikamaru said, looking a bit guilty as he scratched the back of his head. “So… I may or may not have told our clan elders that you and Ino are soulmates and they may or may not start harassing you about marrying her.”

Shikamaru spoke quickly and quietly and it took Sai a moment to realize what he was saying. Naruto, Sasuke, and Sakura, however, didn’t seem to have the same problem.

“You and Ino are soulmates?!” the three screeched in unison.

“I… Yes?” Sai’s head swiveled to look at them in surprise. “You didn’t know?”

“How would we know?” Sakura asked. “Neither of you ever told us!”

“You’ve seen both our soulmarks.”

“Soulmarks are confusing!” Naruto exclaimed and Sai realized he probably should’ve known better than to expect Naruto to connect the dots. He and Hinata practically had the same soulmark, just in different colors, and it’d still taken them years to figure it out.

“We went together to your weddings.”

“I thought you two were just going as friends,” Sasuke admitted and he wasn’t exactly wrong. 

That made Sai hesitate. Were they friends? Or were they dating? How was he supposed to remember where they’d been in the relationship all that time ago?

“I’ve spent so much time with just the two of you,” Sakura said. “Are you saying I was third-wheeling on your dates?”

“I mean… No?”

“Wait, Ino’s soulmark is on her arm. Did you know since you met her after our first mission? Have you been dating since then?”

“No.” That was a question Sai could answer confidently. Kind of. Oh by the sages, he really didn’t know what he and Ino were doing, was he?

Sasuke opened his mouth to continue pressing him but Kakashi put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him before he could begin. “You five run along. I’d like to talk to Sai alone. Yamato, make sure they don’t destroy anything. Any more than it’s already been destroyed, at least.”

“No promises,” Yamato said drily and began ushering the younger ninja away from the former ANBU. “Come on, let’s get something to eat.”

“I want ramen!”

“I want barbecue!”

“Ramen!”

“Barbecue!” 

“That’s literally all we eat! Can’t you two pick something else?”

Sai watched the group walk away, bickering until they were out of sight, before turning his attention back to Kakashi. The man was watching him with a peculiar look in his eye that Sai didn’t understand. He waited for him to say something but Kakashi remained silent and the seconds soon stretched into minutes.

“Let’s take a walk,” Kakashi said eventually and Body Flickered onto the rooftops. Sai followed him without missing a beat.

“Why did you want to talk to me, senpai?” Sai said once it became clear Kakashi wasn’t going to say something first.

“You looked stressed when Shikamaru said the clan might suggest you and Ino getting married. It takes a lot to get a reaction out of you,” Kakashi said nonchalantly. “I just want you to know you can talk to me if you need someone.”

“I don’t know if there’s really anything to say.” That wasn’t really true but after explaining himself to Shin, and his teammates, and Ino, and Ino’s teammates, Sai had accepted he didn’t really have the vocabulary to express how he felt. But it never stopped him from trying. “I’ve never wanted romance. I like what I have with Ino but it isn’t romance. Everyone expects us to… be like every other soulmate. Be in love, get married, have kids. I’m not really opposed to marrying her but I don’t really want to. The only reason we would is for clan politics. Marriage is supposed to be this ceremony of love and I just don’t… I don’t really feel what everyone else is feeling.”

“Because of your time in ROOT?”

That question was expected but Sai tried not to let it bother him. He was not successful. “I don’t know. Maybe but I don’t think so.”

“Is it a lack of attraction?”

“What?” 

That was such a strange question but Kakashi didn’t really seem to understand Sai’s confusion. “Is it a lack of attraction?”

“I don’t… I suppose she’s attractive.” Sai never really thought about her that way but he knew other people thought she was. He’d been hearing it for so long that he believed it. But were those his own feelings or just the influence of others? He remembered wanting to call her ugly when they met but he thought everyone was ugly so he’d called her gorgeous because he thought she’d like it. And he just kept doing it. He’d done it so much that it’d just stuck with him and he’d forgotten the origin of the nickname. By the sages, was every compliment he’d given her the offspring of a lie?

Surprisingly, a look of understanding spread across Kakashi’s masked features. “So you aren’t attracted to her?”

“I just said she’s attractive.”

“That isn’t the same as being attracted to her.”

“What’s the difference?”

“A few years ago, Master Jiraiya gave me this book he’d written that was rejected by his publishers,” Kakashi began and Sai didn’t really know where he was going with this. “You know he writes romances, right? Well, he got this piece of criticism that said if you’re going to write about love and relationships, you need to understand that it’s not all romantic. Or sexual. You can imagine how confused Jiraiya was.”

Sai was kind of lost but he nodded along anyway.

“So he did some research. And not the kind of research he normally does. He actually talked to anthropologists and professors from different nations, I think. He wrote a character that didn’t experience romantic or sexual attraction. She still knew love and could appreciate a pretty face but she knew she wasn’t quite experiencing what everyone else was feeling.” Kakashi paused. “The word for not experiencing romantic attraction is aromantic. The word for not experiencing sexual attraction is asexual. They’re not really common words, it took Jiraiya a long time to come across them, so I wouldn’t be surprised if you hadn’t heard them…”

Kakashi trailed off and Sai’s brain tried to catch up. Sexual attraction? Romantic attraction? They were different? Romantic feelings were supposed to be connected by some kind of desire? Desire to do what? That just sounded really weird. Sai had never heard someone phrase it that way yet it made sense in the most confusing way. “So… wanting to have a romantic relationship has to do with attraction?”

Kakashi shrugged. “Beats me. I’ve never felt that way. I didn’t actually know I’m asexual or aromantic until I read the book and I saw myself in that character.”

“You’re like me?” Sai said in surprise. Almost instantly, his world felt a bit brighter. Like everything was grey and he was seeing color for the first time.

Kakashi nodded. “You know Guy’s my soulmate?”

“Really?” That was actually really shocking but both men covered themselves at pretty much all times, leaving no room for a soulmark to peak out, so there was no way Sai ever would’ve seen either of their soulmarks. Maybe there was a reason for that. Probably not. “I thought you two were just friends.”

“We are, in a way, but we’re also more than that,” Kakashi said, slowing down a bit to try to find the right words. “Guy and I tried to have a relationship when we realized we’re soulmates but it didn’t really work. Guy prefers women and I’m not even sure if he likes men like that. We haven’t talked about it in awhile. And I never really liked anyone that way. But once I heard the words aromantic and asexual, I felt whole. Like I could explain my feelings and I wasn’t missing anything. I didn’t feel broken anymore. After I told him, it was like everything started making sense.”

“Are you two still together?”

Kakashi nodded. “Things got a lot easier when we gave up… The word Jiraiya used in his notes was amatonormativity. That’s kind of like, um, the belief that romantic and sexual relationships are the peak of human experience and everyone should prioritize those kinds of relationships over everything else. You and Ino don’t have to do what our society expects you to do. You can just do whatever feels right.”

Sai nodded slowly. Ino had mentioned once that it felt freeing to not necessarily follow the traditional route of dating but they’d still always felt that pressure to act like a couple. It felt like a huge weight being lifted off his chest to hear that it was okay to do just be. And the fact someone he knew and respected thought it was normal and even encouraged it was priceless.

He opened his mouth to thank the other man but his throat suddenly swelled shut and all that came out was a choking noise. It surprised him, he’d never felt enough emotion for him to be rendered unable to speak. Kakashi looked surprised as well but his eyes soon crinkled with fondness. 

“Go to her, Sai.”

Sai was already moving.

____________________

Ino wasn’t expecting to find Sai waiting at her front door when she got home from getting drilled by her elders at the clan meeting.

It looked like he’d been there for awhile. He’d taken out a piece of charcoal and began doodling on her doorstep. It was rather beautiful but she knew she’d have to hose it off sooner or later unless she wanted dusty footprints tracked through her house. He seems pretty focused on his drawing but not enough that he didn’t jump up in surprise at the sound of his soulmate approaching.

“We don’t have to get married!” he blurted out upon her arrival. The piece of charcoal fell out of his hand and cracked on the cement.

“Um, okay,” Ino said slowly. “Really weird thing to say at the beginning of a conversation, Sai, but okay…”

Sai at least had the decency to look a bit embarrassed and hurried to explain himself. “Shikamaru and Choji told you about your meeting.”

“Oh.” Ino felt the muscles in her shoulders tense up. By the sages, that meeting really had been hell. “And…?”

“Apparently my teammates didn’t know we were soulmates. Sakura might be coming here to yell at you soon, by the way,” Sai told her and it took Ino a moment to fully process what he was saying. Had they really not known? Sakura was her best friend. Ino talked to her about Sai all the time. And Naruto had seemed pretty happy when they told him they were going to his wedding together. And Sasuke had a Sharingan for crying out loud! He really should’ve noticed. Sai didn’t really seem concerned about it though. “But that’s not important. I talked with Kakashi and…”

Sai cut himself off, his excitement fading as doubt overtook him. Ino took his hands, ignoring all the charcoal dust on them, and offered an encouraging smile. “And?”

“I think… I think I’m aromantic. And asexual,” Sai told her and he smiled. It wasn’t his usual awkward smile though. He looked genuinely relieved and maybe even a little bit happy. “Apparently some people don’t have romantic feelings at all. There’s a word for it. Aromantic. I think- I think that’s me. I still care about you and I like being with you but Kakashi told me being aromantic is normal and it doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with me or that the universe made a mistake making us soulmates. It just means we can- We can just be us. Sai and Ino. And Sai and Ino don’t have to listen to anything anyone tells us to do. And that means we don’t have to get married. Unless you want to…?”

Ino watched Sai’s face carefully as it flashed between excitement, awkwardness, nervousness, and joy. She’d never seen him express so many feelings, let alone all together in such a short period of time. It was cute. And endearing. Especially when he stumbled over his words like this. By the sages, she loved him. And now she knew he loved her, even if it wasn’t the way she loved him. She was okay with that though. She was definitely okay with that. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Screw tradition. Forget the clan,” Ino said, breaking into a smile as she put her arms around Sai’s shoulders so she could look up into his eyes. “I like what we have. I don’t care if it’s not what I thought I’d grow up to have or if it’s not what my family wants for me. I just want to be with you and it doesn’t matter if we’re friends, lovers, neither, or something between.”

Sai’s smile grew and he just looked so happy. “We’re soulmates.”

“Yeah. That’s what we are. We’re soulmates.”

More AroWriMo Fics By Me, Posted on Ao3, Posted on FFN

[chillafqueen]

This started off as a rant piece but then turned into an essay about my feelings about the show so definite Sex Education Season 3 spoilers under the cut

Literally do not try to argue with me I do not care

Tagging this only as sex education spoilers and sex education season 3 spoilers so hopefully it only shows up in those tags for people filtering it because I don't really care to make this a discussion I just needed to get this out my head

We seem to be in this golden age of media where we no longer care about character development or story development.

only ships and ships only, if your ship breaks up or it doesn't happen it's queer baiting or it's straight baiting or it's misogynistic or it's shitty writing

And I'm aiming this mostly at the Sex Education fandom just because I've seen /some/ people claiming it as such.

Ruby and Otis were cute together trust me I loved it. But it's not bad writing for them to break up it's not objectifying as a ship point to further along Otis and Mauve

Or the same goes from Adam and Eric

It's a show about high school. Even if it's a show, realistically these people won't stay together forever

It's take realistic routes for these characters

And we need to think critically about it

Ruby and Otis might just be a stepping stone towards endgame Otis x Mauve but it's not wasting Ruby or bad writing

It's sad to see, I really loved Ruby's development and her dynamic with Otis was adorable and I loved watching them grow

Ruby grew from this relationship. Did you really think the first person she trusted and loved was gonna be the person she married? No that's unrealistic and truly bad writing

These relationship, their highs and their lows and their break ups are there for each character's development

Sure Ruby got her heart broken but she also learned and hopefully she grows from it

She started off a rude, selfish bitch obsessed with status, image and popularity

Then she opens up and allows herself to be vulnerable

She shows Otis her house her family and that her real life isn't as glamorous as she puts on it's scary and she thinks that he will judge her and leave but he doesn't

He treats her with the same amount of respect that he had before he knew these personal parts of her

And sure now that she got hurt she could regress, she might think that she was right all along that once she shows her inner self to someone they'll hurt her just like Otis did or she grows from it and realizes that what she thinks the unattractive parts of herself aren't as bad as she thought and she'll learn and grow to be nicer and less judgemental and less distrustful and she'll meet more people and learn that looks and popularity aren't everything and one day she will find someone who loves her just as much as she loves them

Otis didn't love her, he had strong feelings for her but he wasn't on the same page as Ruby and even though he said those feelings could develop with time and that there's no guarantee that his feelings won't grow into love, Ruby had every right to set boundaries and end the relationship. She has every right to expect her partner be on the same page as her. And also she's a teenager she can end a relationship with her high school boyfriend because he doesn't love her back. If she wants to wait and continue the relationship hoping Otis would eventually reciprocate her love, then she could. But she was hurt and felt dejected and she decided to cut her losses rather waste her time if Otis couldn't love her back. She had every right to do so. It's not bad writing. She's not the type to hopelessly pine after someone who doesn't love her back. She is a bad bitch who moves on and does better.

And while Otis doesn't really gain much from the relationship except that he hurt Ruby he still continues to develop as a character

And there's a message there that it's hard to love someone when you never got closure from your past love

His relationship with Ola failed because of his unresolved feelings with Maeve and then his next relationship with Ruby also fails because he can't love her because of his unresolved feelings and lack of closure with Maeve and he also learns that

But also it's okay to not feel the same way about someone. And Jakob was right when he assured Otis that it was right to be honest with Ruby. Even if he hurt her, it was best to be honest and hurt her than lie to her and lead her on with a lie. It wouldn't be good for Otis and it wouldn't be good for Ruby if Otis just lied saying he loved her back.

And even if Ruby was just a plot device for potentially endgame Otis and Maeve then big deal.

It's kinda obvious that Maeve and Otis are the main goal and target relationship of the show.

And it's a common trope with them in the show that they are never in the same place at the right time.

Otis has feelings for Maeve but she's with Jackson. He tries to move on and dates Ola. And when he's no longer available it's when Maeve realizes her feelings for Otis and it's shown that Otis still very obviously has feelings for her even while in a relationship with Ola and it effects the relationship until it falls apart when Ola finds out that not only does Otis has feelings for Maeve but he holds Maeve in higher regards than her.

So the relationship ends

So does that mean Maeve and Otis will be together now that Ola and Otis are.over? No because neither of them are on the same page.

And so they miss the opportunity. Then they fight and their friendship is over

Then Isaac deletes the voicemail of Otis confessing and apologizing to Maeve and asking for them to try again

So Maeve misses that opportunity because she doesn't even know. And Otis doesn't know that she never heard the voicemail and thinks she's rejecting him so he tries to get over her.

And when he moves on, Maeve takes that as him saying their friendship and whatever she thought could happen was over. He was with Ruby, so obviously he didn't have feelings for Maeve

And then Ruby and Otis break up and Maeve and Otis talk and finally are on the same page and kiss

But oops, Maeve has feelings for Isaac and things seem to be going well so she's not going to ruin that for a chance with Otis

Then Isaac finds out that Maeve and Otis kissed and ends things.

So now Maeve and Otis can be together right? Otis is single and so is Maeve and feelings are out there. Well things look good until Maeve can't miss the chance to take that exchange program to study in America.

But they're technically together??? Maybe they can be long distance? Maybe they will wait for each other?

Their entire theme is not ever being at the same place at the same time. Something always comes up. One of them is always in a relationship when the other isn't. Or something comes up where they aren't available or now, Maeve is going to another country for a few months, just as things were going to happen.

Why does it have to be that way? Why can't your favorite ship be endgame just because you like it? Because it's not your show. You didn't produce it or write it. You are not entitled to have the show cater to your every want. These writers have a specific vision in mind and they may or may not already have a set ending in place. The moment they presented their idea to a network they might've already had their endgame ship set in stone.

It's not bad writing if your ship isn't endgame. It isn't objectification if a character was written in a way just to further the plot in a certain way. That's how stories work.

That being said, Eric and Adam was the same way.

They both grew because of their relationship and they learned.

Was it shitty of Eric to cheat on Adam and not tell him right away? Sure, yes.

But he learned that even if he loved Adam and was content in their relationship, it was caging him. He is a different person from Adam. He had his own dreams, likes, boundaries and such. And as does Adam. But those differences can hold each other back and hurt each other.

Eric is comfortable with his sexuality. He is gay and proud and he happens to have a lot of stereotypical gay hobbies and interests. He likes camp, he likes drag, he likes makeup and he is comfortable with his sexuality and doesn't care what others think and so he wants to be all these things out there in the world.

Adam doesn't. Adam is in his first gay relationship after slowly coming to terms with his sexuality. He's not out there like Eric. His mom doesn't know about them and he's scared of telling her, and he especially doesn't want his dad to know.

He was raised the same way his father was, which we find out this season. He gets taught toxic masculinity. He is taught any weakness is feminine and weak and bad. Being vulnerable is bad, expressing soft emotion is bad. And that cultivates into anger and violence.

He is emotionally stunted because of it. And he is slowly unlearning it.

He slowly comes to terms with his sexuality, and he slowly learns to be emotional and vulnerable. And Eric helps a lot with it. Eric is patient and encouraging.

But Adam is still a different person than Eric. He is shy, he is slowly becoming more out every day, he's learning to express himself through meaningful ways, but it's in ways different than how Eric does.

He likes makeup and dancing but maybe he's not ready to go out in the world doing that. Or he is just a private person and no matter how comfortable he gets with himself he may never want to go out to a gay club and dance and wear makeup

But Eric does.

Eric wants to go out he wants to be gay and free and open. That's his personality and he's had a longer time accepting himself and learning not to be afraid of public perception because he knows there's people out there like him. But Adam isn't.

And Eric has every right to break up with Adam because he is young and he doesn't have to stay grounded. He has yet to experience everything he wants and has yet to really know himself. But being with Adam halts that because Adam isn't like him.

Eric is learning to experience life and fly free and he's not afraid of going out there and living life to the fullest. In a way Adam doesn't.

And that's okay. That's real life.

People grow at different rates and in different directions. Let them grow even if it's away from you.

And by the end Adam is hurt but he is a different person because of Eric and for the better.

He is learning to be himself. He is learning how to express himself, to reach out for help, to be open with others. And that's a lot of progress.

He is hurt, his first love, his first gay love broke his heart. But he is stronger than before.

And Eric is free to continue spreading his wings not afraid of being held down by someone not in the same place as him.

And that's what the show is really about.

It's about these teenagers growing and learning and becoming better people. They will change and they will develop into new forms of themselves with each new relationship and challenge.

Love isn't the ultimate goal. It's being yourself and doing what is best for yourself.

Ruby and Otis were really cute together. I really did root for them and I really loved watching Ruby slowly change for the better. And I hope she continues to.

And I really loved Adam and Eric together but Eric cheated and he realized while it was wrong it made him realize that his relationship with Adam is stunting his growth.

You meet people and they may hurt you or you may hurt them but that's how life goes. And hopefully you impacted each relationship in a meaningful way even if it's not the way you intended. That you learn a lesson or you are the lesson.

It's truly brilliant writing. It's realistic, it's diverse, it's open and fresh, but witty and sometimes cheap but Jesus Christ it's not about you and your ship. You are here to watch the story unfold. And maybe get inspired or just be entertained.

When the story takes a turn you don't like it's not always bad writing.

It's only bad writing when it makes no sense, cut corners, is inherently offensive with no meaning to it, or completely does a 180 on all the character progress or other examples.

Hopefully the story ends with meaning. Maybe Otis and Maeve are endgame. Maybe they breakup and meet later in life. Or maybe Otis reconnects with Ruby. Or he meets someone new entirely.

Or maybe he ends the show single and just as involved in his career as his father was or whatnot.

And maybe Maeve also gets so involved with just making it in life that she has no room for a relationship. Or she meets someone new or reconnects with Isaac.

I love that even though the story points to Otis and Maeve endgame it's not the only story or romance explored.

We see Aimee is still struggling with her assault but she's willing to get help and that she learns to stand up for herself and do what makes her happy even if it may upset others, like breaking up with Steve even though he has been nothing be supportive.

I really enjoyed Cal and their introduction. And I enjoyed seeing Jackson be more and more open to trying and learning new things. He is just wanting to find himself and feel fulfilled. And I loved seeing Cal set boundaries with their identity and Jackson.

If Jackson can't accept that Cal isn't a girl and so that means if they were together it would indeed be a queer relationship and that would make Jackson not straight. And Jackson trying to bargain and negotiate while Cal stood firm was insightful.

Because I too, like Jackson, even if subconscious, still perceived Cal as a girl in some way even if I completely understand their identity and will help accommodate it in anyway. And it's just about unlearning the norms I was raised with. Even if I accept and understand, there is always room for more learning. But another thing with Cal, it's not their responsibility to fight.

If they don't want to lead the fight for gender rights and equality then they don't have to.

If you can't accept or won't listen, it's not their responsibility to make you change your ways but they will not respect you and they will not come quietly.

It is not every non-binary, trans, gay, bi, pan, ace, lesbian or anyone who isn't like you, person's responsibility to teach you or answer your questions or change your perception

And that was quite refreshing to see and I really admired seeing that in this show

And also showing that each non-binary person is different. Layla isn't willing to even challenge the system. Because they are scared and from what we see in the last episode, they aren't out to their family. They aren't ready and aren't comfortable trying to fight and that is their right.

And then seeing Cal teach Layla how to bind properly is a good lesson to anyone watching the show that might be binding incorrectly.

And then I also really enjoyed seeing Vivienne and her long distance boyfriend Eugene.

I was happy to see that her jealousy of Cal wasn't because she saw Cal as a romantic rival but friendship rival. Jackson and Vivienne were drifting apart due to their opposing views on Hope and that Viv took Jackson's place as Head girl.

And also seeing Vivienne's boyfriend be some hot, refined man was satisfying to see.

I also loved seeing Maeve learn to accept help and kindness. I was so scared that he and Aimee would never make up but they did and it was the most beautiful thing to see because they are the best friend goals to ever bless the tv world.

And I loved that Isaac wasn't depicted as just some poor helpless paraplegic but he had character and he had talent and he was never seen less than. He was a witty asshole!

And he even got the girl for a while! And he has standards!

I mean sure I don't feel that bad about his feelings getting hurt by Maeve because he took it upon himself to make a decision for Maeve and manipulating the situation for his own selfish crush on Maeve. I mean you didn't let her make the choice. You deleted the voicemail and so she thought Otis still hated her and refused to apologize. Sure she ended up getting feelings for you but because you intervened and lied she never got the chance to truly get closure with Otis because you knew that if she heard the message she'd go to him

Sure you didn't deserve her kissing Otis when you two obviously had something going on but... What did you expect?

And my last thoughts are Jakob and Jean. I liked them together in the beginning but it became apparent that they are two very different people. They just don't fit.

At first I couldn't understand Jakob's distrust of Jean, I mean she messed up once while drunk with her ex husband. It was wrong but I thought it was a tiny little forgiveable thing (and maybe I think that because I'm biased by my love of Jean). But once we get that soft moment of Jakob opening up to the therapist and we find out that his last relationship, with his wife, also had trust betrayed. Her having an affair and then getting sick afterwards so therefore Jakob felt he couldn't leave her when she was so ill.

And I thought Jean and Jakob trying to force a family relationship was not the best route. They had made it clear before that they are just two different people. You can coparent without being in a relationship.

But even through it all they still cared deeply for each other. So yeah.

But my only true criticm of the show is the paternity test results. Now sure we don't know what they say BUT Jean's reaction screams that Jakob isn't the father. Which just disappoints me. Jean has been through so much.

And who else would be the father? We weren't shown any other potential baby daddies.

Also she's been through so much just give her one thing.

Like I like to hope that next season she tells Jakob and even though he's not the dad, he's been there and he was making that baby a goddamn tree house that he steps up and raises that baby like it is his because that baby deserves a father.

But I can only see that Jean will probably hide the truth and they start out quite happy until the results are discovered and Jakob finds out and he is rightfully upset and angry and betrayed and he leaves her and the baby. Or real baby daddy comes to try to be there and makes more drama.

Idk

And just because it's how the show goes Maeve and Otis are gonna have something come up and it gets in the way of them being together.

I hope Michael and Adam make some peace as part of both of their developments. Of course I do see Michael having issue with Adam's lack of traditional success and his sexuality but I hope they work it out or at least try next season.

And I hope that Rahim and Adam don't become a thing. They are similar in their introversion and lack of flamboyancy with their sexuality but I hope they bond and become friends but I don't think it's be in good taste for them to date. It's like recycling your gays.

I'm not really sure what's in store for the school. I think maybe someone swoops in last second or they all go to different schools and have to move away and they all lose touch and it's a big component of next year.

And I'm not sure about Eric and what path he takes. Maybe he starts going out to gay spaces and meets someone or just messes around to have fun. But to be honest I'm not sure.

Anyways yeah.

[ephemerlskies]

thank you, colmar | myg

⇢ pairing: yoongi x reader

⇢ genre: drabble, established relationship, so much fluff it could be mistaken for a cloud...., very mild angst, long distance relationship, writer!yoongi

⇢ word count: 4.5k

⇢ warnings: explicit language, this is very PG to be honest

⇢ summary: long distance was a challenging feat to take on, though you and yoongi were sure you two would be the exception. since his leave, you had been counting down the days, hours, and minutes until you finally got the chance to visit him. little did you know, this visit was going to become the most memorable weekend of your life.

a/n: i can't even explain myself i'm SORRY.... but i am literally the softest yoongi stan ever known to man. it had to be done. this was purely for my own indulgence lmao. also yoongi? france? a concept.

Do you know the feeling of being outside during a sunset? Telling yourself, ‘I’m going to watch the sunset this time’ and being so sure that you won’t miss the sun’s gradual sinking beneath the horizon. Then, during the mess of dusk and life, you do miss it; the sky darkening before you can even realize the sun has already bid its farewell to the sky today. And, maybe if you spent less time ensuring that you would enjoy the sunset rather than simply enjoying it, you wouldn’t have to scold yourself to pay more attention tomorrow.

That’s how life felt with Yoongi.

You’d been caught up with existing, along with the countless sporadic surprises and thick responsibilities that came with it, and maybe you had taken the moments spent with him for granted, the moments you once promised you would cherish as they came. But what’s the good of regretting the past when it felt far less burdensome to just appreciate it all? Even when the time with Yoongi brisked by, as if it had somewhere better to be than right here with you, the memories were still there to cherish, retrospectively.

When you found out Yoongi had seized the opportunity to study abroad in a small, French city just a car ride away from the German border, you felt like you, again, had only been able to see the rounded edge of the sun before it ducked beneath the land; then it was gone.

You tried to be happy for him, you were happy for him, and you shoved your newfound resentment of France and Colmar, the city he’d be residing in for the next two years, into a shameful yet not so secret compartment of your brain. Your smile had worked against you, becoming transparently saddened when he told you the news.

Yoongi asked if you were okay with this, to imply that had the moral choice to say no. Any and every ounce of you would have thought it vile to keep him from such an accomplishing triumph towards his career as a writer. To you, there was no way you could take that away from him. And you told him that, to which he responded that no other thing in the world would tilt him away from what you wanted of him.

For some reason, that was painful to hear. You didn’t want Yoongi to say that, not because it layered more pressure on your decision but because he offered this as if it were no bigger of a compromise than cleaning spilled water and you despised the idea of being the reason he would put an end to his dreams. You wanted to be the reason he chased them. So, that's what you were. A martyr for sake of selfless love, marching into the battle of a long distance relationship.

Two years was tough, but it was something you were capable of. It was something that wasn’t going to be the final destination of your journey with him, just a speed bump to create some turbulence to happily ever after. Although, you believed happily ever after had happened the moment you met him.

But then again, the opportunity of visiting Yoongi in Colmar felt awfully similar to happily ever after. One fifteen hour plane ride, what felt like another fifteen hour car ride - though it was most likely only an hour or so, and a listless walk to the house where he was staying later and you released a guttural sigh that the hardest part was over. The anticipation of seeing him after each bi-weekly, late night phone and Skype call and far too much distance for your liking had passed, though slowly and just as lonesome as those five months apart from him. All you had to do now was walk into the door.

And again, seeing him with his hair a mess and dressed in the same shirt he’d lounge in at your apartment had dethroned yet another happily ever after.

The first embrace had your muscles feeling the most relaxed it had felt since the last gut wrenching farewell-hug at the airport. The long journey, the countless shed tears over missing him was not as heavy in your mind; his arms carried the weight of your body like none of the loneliness and worries were your burden to bear anymore and all you could give in return was to bring your wearied hands to run against his scalp, through his freshly-washed hair. The air of this French Summer night was meager, pathetic, compared to the warmth of Yoongi’s body. How his lips dragging kisses along your jaw and cheek made you want to mock how the Summer in France couldn’t possibly equate to his kind of amorous heat.

You and him walked hand in hand along the cobblestoned streets of Colmar. The Renaissance Houses, parked two rows on each side as far as your eyes could see, had decorated the riviera fittingly. Strangers of France glared with objection to you being here, and with Yoongi it had almost slipped your mind that the French weren’t fond of tourists. Maybe this short walk wasn't enjoyable in the slightest, the eyes of judgement and turned backs gripped your throat with discomfort. Maybe it wouldn’t have been worth it if you weren't hand in hand with the love of your life. But that was quite a hefty maybe.

The subtle brush of his thumb along the backside of your palm withered away every set of eyes that blistered against your skin into nothing but a lighter, less noticeable brush than his finger. As you moved through the town with him, your resentment of France and Colmar moved with you however quieter than it had before. It trailed behind, waiting to pass through and in front of you the moment you had to leave him again. As of now, you couldn’t resent France being ingested in its beauty, where your hand was being held by Yoongi.

He had pointed out every restaurant and shop that he planned to take you to and spoke of the kind family housed across the riviera, and how they’d been helping him with his French. Young children found it fascinating and esteemed to teach someone older than them; Yoongi had taken quite a liking to the excitement they would share while spouting random words in French during their almost daily lessons.

“Tu es mon amour.” With his rich, low voice he whispered some phrases that he said reminded him of you. This was thoughtful enough that it had you treasuring the intimacy of it all. It was his way of offering a little pocket of romance to feed your heart when it felt starved of him, which it often did; Yoongi had never been anything less than generous with his thoughtfulness.

“Miel.”

“What does that mean?”

“Honey.”

“Sucré. Sweet.” That resounding tingle in your stomach had nearly disoriented you, soon traveling to the soft of your cheek where he had left a warmer-than-Summer kiss. How could you forget that this was what it always felt like with him? Perhaps you were still too busy shaming the French Summer’s radiance as inadequate in comparison to Yoongi's lips and hand.

“Belle, doux, éternal. Any guesses?”

“Nope!”

“Beautiful, gentle, forever.”

You clung to his arm, feeling as though if you let go you could drift away into the black riviera, separating two halves of the same street. Now, you had been on the side with Yoongi. And the riviera had littered reflections of the stars and moon in its body similar to how Yoongi littered his delicious words along the streets of Colmar. Walking down and down, hand in hand with Yoongi and soon the first night together in five months had coalesced with the end of the road.

You fell asleep from the pure exhaustion afflicting your limbs and eyelids, without more than a ‘Goodnight’ and ‘I’ve missed you’ to Yoongi as he found his rightful beside you. Sleeping next to you, the light snore of your jaded breath was quiet compared to the deafening silence of his empty bed that dragged him into fits of insomnia. Your company had been consumed by his longing heart to full capacity and now he thought to himself he would never have to eat again because your presence had proven to be plentiful in feeding his hunger for this lifetime and the next.

Yoongi sealed the night with a loving kiss on your forehead before joining in your slumber, bodies touching to make up for five months of space. There was no need for space right now. Even though you had been all the way across the world just days ago, being a millimeter away from you now was far too straining and gaping of a distance. Through the night, there was never a moment when a part of him was not laced between a part of you, and even in a state of sleep he thanked the heavens for that.

---

The noise of the outside clamor, the argumentative honking of cars and utterances of pedestrians failed to tear you from your sleep. Neither the warm air leaking through the opened window nor the ripe morning sun piling over the bed sheets conspired in your awakening. It was the symphonic lullabies emitting from the record player that seeped into your dreams and lulled you awake with its gentle jazz music and had you sitting up. Then, it was the sweet mix of smells trailing from the kitchen that had you fully conscious and remembering where you were and who you were with, along with the all too apparent absence in the bed.

The riviera looked alive this morning. People walked down the streets joyfully like there was something other than your reunion with Yoongi to be worthy of celebration. As sunlight melted your skin to a light sweat, you pulled yourself from under the covers and inhaled the sweet, warm aromas from sources you couldn’t quite place.

Not long after you had awoken, Yoongi returned with a tray of food and a smile so wide it could be seen by everyone in Colmar. Unluckily for them, this smile surfaced just for you. He set the tray in front of your eyes and mouth that were both watering at the lovely little display of his work.

“How was your sleep, baby?” Spoken as light as the air and harmoniously with the music, he found a spot across from you and brought your hand to his lips.

“The best sleep I’ve had in five months. You?” The feeling of his smile against the back of your hand could have outdone the smoothest velvets and sleekest silks and softest wools in the world.

“Me too. Let’s eat.” The release of your hand had you groaning and crossing your legs to stare at the selection of food. “I got us some croissants from the bakery just a block from here, strawberry jam, grapes, and brioche bread with some brie cheese. French people know how to cook, that's for sure.”

“Yoongi, you got all of this today?” A mix of guilt and gratefulness churned in your head but he only laughed to mend the crimination against your own need for rest.

“Honey, you just got out from a long plane ride to visit me. It was the least I could do. Plus, I was up early anyway so I thought this would be a good use of my time.” From the looks of it, all the food was fresh. He implied this did not require as much effort as you thought, not nearly as much effort as enduring air travel.

It was then when the breach of emotional labor had been closed. You and him always forged your relationship through mutuality, whether that entailed trust, comfort, support, or intention, there was never a moment when one gave too much and one gave not enough. The never ceasing equity and balance filtered through the gaps you thought could never be closed. You were always enough for him and he was always enough for you; that had been your normal with him.

Sunday morning, in France, in Colmar, sitting in the sun kissed bedroom and watching the waters run down the trench, eating the sweet fruits and flavors of the town could have fooled you into thinking this could be forever. A brief moment strung together a temporary kind of eternity; your eyes were never seized for too long by the sights of France, your mind purged of the resentment towards Colmar as of now. Your soul had been enamoured entirely by Yoongi, and you refused to let yourself miss the sunset. Not this time.

Little by little, the food had been eaten through the morning. Through the small, delightfully insignificant topics discussed between you and Yoongi. This was what you missed the most, you thought. Being with him, talking about the small things no other would ever think to mention, and those small things became more important than a necessity. He dusted the shallowness from your ‘small things’ and made them meaningful through his genuine care. So, how could you stop yourself from sharing with him your whole world?

“I have a new hobby.”

“And you’re just telling me now?” He tossed a grape into his mouth in suspense of your answer with a tone that made it seem like it had been some sort of life line kept from him.

“Well, I wanted to surprise you with it.” The suddenness of your leap to retrieve said surprise had further drawn from Yoongi a desperation to know what you had been talking about. After a bit of digging in your suitcase, a victorious smile followed when you found it.

Yoongi felt his arms move to pull you onto his lap by an unknown force generated well beyond his own will. As if his body was now governed by his love for you, his love to be near you and hold you, rather than his own mind.

“I make little clay figures now. And before you say it, yes I am losing my mind just a little.” In your hand laid a miniature bear, slightly deformed from a lack of skill and inexperience with these kinds of things. “I have to do something because you’re not around to bother when I’m bored!” It wasn't perfect, in fact it was far from it. The body was unsymmetrical and the limbs had been a bit misshapen more sausage-like rather than arm-like, and nonetheless Yoongi took it between his index and thumb finger with the prudence and excitement of one who was holding the most precious gem in the world.

“___, this is the dumbest and cutest thing I’ve ever seen.” He rotated the little bear between his fingers, memorizing each painted detail. Imagining you impulse buying loads of supplies and binging tutorials on instructions to make these had his stomach burning from his eruption of sweet laughter.

His other hand was hooked around your waist and his chin sat on your shoulder. The blend of jazz in the morning and Yoongi’s laughs induced you to a state of entrancement, nodding off in his loving muse of physical affection. Finally being able to touch him and hear his voice unencumbered by low quality microphones of video calls was something you could easily re-assimilate to, but at the same time you were afraid of the comfort this had sheltered you with; you knew that being in France would only last a weekend before you had to leave this asylum from solitude. Then, it was back to muffled conversations and fingers stroking the pictures of him on your phone’s screen rather than the plush of his cheeks and arms.

“Please tell me there are more of these.” The whispers lovingly grazed the nape of your neck so that you reattached to reality. You tried to hold in the tears and the fact that you were already missing him, feeling like another sunset had drifted from your grasp.

“There are, but I brought this one for you.” He thanked you with a warm kiss, you returned your welcome through a soft caress of his cheek and pushed his lips deeper into you. You hoped maybe his kiss would imprint into your skin; that during moments of the day where you couldn’t come to distract yourself with work or friends and when you would lie awake at night from the harrowing torment of the missing body in your queen-sized bed, you could touch your hand to your cheek embedded with the memory of his lips and that would somehow requite this aching as if he were really there.

“I love it, thank you. What should we name him?” Yoongi hadn’t removed his lips from the side of your face, knowing you longed for him to never pull away, and that this unsaid desire was mutual as everything always was.

“Yoongi Jr. has a nice ring to it, don't you think? He certainly takes after his dad!” You held his hand and moved it next to his face to compare the two. “The resemblance is uncanny.”

“Mm, no he’s too cute. He definitely takes after his mom.”

“Looks like we’re at a standoff.” You said with the interest of getting your way.

“What about a compromise?” Your nod of agreeance to this suggestion had struck him with inspiration. “What about Miel? You know ‘cuz bears like honey?”

“Babe, you don't have to explain it.”

“I was just making sure you got it!”

God, he was so cute.

“Yoongi, what would you do if I told all your friends that you're secretly a softie?” In a fit of bashfulness, he fell back onto the bed with a chuckle. You had sprawled out over him, legs woven in with his and hands tugging the soft shirt over his torso. The rise and fall of his chest had your head, resting over it, rising and falling. Your head didn’t rise and fall back home without him. It was stagnant, miserable, waiting to rise and fall with his chest again.

“I think I would have to kill you.” He joked while pulling you in closer.

“Okay, okay, your secret’s safe with me. And Miel is a cute name for our little child.” Yoongi had been in a league of his own when it came to sweeping you off your feet. You couldn't specify when it happened, but the gradual notion of assurance that he was something of a forever presence in your life had become the only thing in the world that stood entirely unequivocal. This certainty solidified through every moment you spent with him, especially this one.

“Well, Miel! Welcome to our little family.” He said as he waddled the little figure along his chest in front of where your eyes laid. You smiled as Miel pranced before your rising and falling head.

It might be illogical to try at a long distance relationship that was only subdued with sparse and abbreviated visits. The nightmarish idea that only once every five or six months could you afford to visit him for less than a week had made it more than sensible to end it before the pain had grown too immense. On paper, that was the rational choice. But when he held you, when he bestowed an endless supply of kisses, when he did cute things just to see you smile, there was no stopping yourself from exempting all reason and rationality.

“You are the love of my life, you know that?” This had taken him by surprise. If it were possible, Yoongi was sure he had fallen in love with you all over again. The way you carried yourself with such conviction turned him from someone who could never quite settle on any decisions or beliefs to someone who had the strength to be sure in every step he took and that you and him would make it through two years of Colmar; that you and him would always make it.

“___, I- I need to get this off my chest.” He sounded hesitant, withholding of some secret. Your worry came to a peak, your mind brewing a cluster of doubt that maybe he hadn’t felt like all this pain was worth it. His breathing halted, along with the rise and fall of his chest and your head. Swallowed in the pounding of your heart, you sat up in hopes this would help obtain grounding for what was about to come.

Was this it? Was this visit the last before a goodbye that would turn the empty space in your bed into a permanence? Had you been teetering on the last of your relationship, and is this him finally stepping away for you to fall to the end of it?

But it slipped your mind in this moment. That unmistakable habit of Yoongi’s to always, without fault, sweep you off your feet.

He'd been fumbling over himself to get to his desk drawer which wrung out more suspense from you. You, still drowning in your own self-pity and imagination, were choked with tears and the rock now lodged in your throat, wishing he would just get it over with.

A part of you hoped it was because he met some beautiful French person that earned his affection because it would be unbearable to hear that it had been you that just wasn’t enough for him anymore. That your love wasn’t worth the endurance and the pain of missing you.

Anything but that, you prayed, let it be anything but that. You hated France and Colmar and writing now more than ever.

He interrupted your wallowing with an arm hidden behind his back that seemed unable to hold steady due to his shaking, effectively turning your attention to this oddly nervous behavior.

“Wh- What is it…” This came out less as a question and more as an urge for him to get on with the heartbreak that you had played out in your head about a hundred times since he said he needed to ‘get something off his chest’.

“I um,” He cleared his throat and sighed like the abundance of warm air in Colmar was not sufficient in giving nearly enough oxygen to thaw his frozen lungs. “I love you so much, ___. And I know we haven’t even finished college yet and I have over a year left in France but I don't think I can continue without doing this right now. Every bone in my body has been bruised for not doing this sooner.”

Oh god, here it comes.

“Will you marry me?” And just like that, he’d bulldozed you to pieces and not in the way you’d expected; never in the ways you’d expected. One would think you would be able to predict this pattern of behavior from him, but you laid on the floor, defenseless, in shock, and absolutely swept off your feet - again.

“What…” If you could go back and slap the sense into yourself to say yes, you would have. But life doesn’t give you those choices. It gave you a dumbfounded expression and a measly ‘what…’.

“Before you say no!” He opened the velvet lined box to reveal a simple ring with a marquise cut opal jewel and two round diamonds on each edge of it. The stone of your birth month, again his thoughtfulness had you tumbling over and over. “I know spending our first month of engagement halfway across the world is dumb. To literally anyone else it is stupid and horribly timed. But not me.”

“Yoongi-” Lowered onto his knee, he fondled your hand with his; the same one holding Miel who was now clasped between the two hands. Your hearts beat in a perfect synchronicity, more so than the jazz music playing in the background and the sun’s waltz with the ripples of the riviera.

“Being here, without you, has made me realize something. It put into perspective what life would be like without you. And, God, it’s nothing compared to what I imagine a life without writing. Hell itself looks like paradise compared to all the heavens without you, ___. And when you call me or text me or send me pictures of what you’re eating for lunch, that just…” He blinked away the wetness threatening to leak from his eyes. You, on the other hand, had thrown all restraint to the wind as streams were now trickling down your face, dampening the clothing beneath your chin.

“You have no idea how much your effort means to me, baby. How kind and understanding and patient you have been has pushed me to stay here. You don't know how often I fear you think I chose writing over you. Never- I don’t. I choose you. Every time I will always choose you. I will choose the forty eight hour visits and the five months of being apart and the spells of monumental loneliness. I would choose to live ten, hundreds, thousands of lives if that meant I could spend at least an hour with you. But that’s not the case, is it? I have the chance to spend this life with you, so I’d be damned if I let that go to waste. I love you, ___. No, I’m in love with you and I didn’t realize the two were any different until I met you. I want to be with you forever. I know this to be the only truth I can confidently place all bets on. So again, will you, ___, marry me?”

His lips, tongue, and body had again not moved from his own will, no; he finally realized it had to be influenced by something far more powerful. With you, because of you, Yoongi moved through life by love. Although he had the mind of a writer, with every word at his fingertips and the ability to stack one on top of another in a way that could move the masses, this proposal was not of the mind of a writer. It was driven by the love of a lover. All of his words were a medicine to cleanse your ears diseased of shameful distrust in his love. The love that just devoted the rest of its life to you.

“Yes.” You announced to the world, but not the world of Colmar. To Yoongi, who was your world now. “Yes, fuck. Yes, yes, yes, yes.” In the midst of your repetitions, he scooped your body in his arms and held you against him tighter than ever before and he noted that moving through love had that effect; holding tighter, kissing deeper, speaking kinder.

“I love you. I love you, Yoongi.” Now through sobs, he couldn’t bring himself to resist how you had been beckoning the affection from his heart.

Would it slip out of his chest and seep into yours? Would his affection ever translate with the same intensity that it had ridden his heart? It did more than that, unbeknownst to him; it convened with your affection of identical fervor and flooded the riviera of Colmar above the length of the trench, above the cobblestone streets alongside it, above the rooftop of the renaissance house surrounding you, flowing all the way the sunset that seemed to be the only thing you could see right now. In your eyes, there was the most beautiful sunset and there was Yoongi.

“Je t’aime, mon amour.” He slipped your fourth digit on your left hand through the ring. The cold metal encasing your finger was a new sensation, the first and last promise on this chaste finger. The only one that felt perfectly fitting and destined to be there.

And suddenly, your resentment for Colmar and France and writing had been inflamed by a tender appreciation. For being the place where you had been engaged to Yoongi and giving perspective to both of you, that distance has nothing to be discouraged of and instead, it would forge a bond of unparalleled resilience. For anointing your heart with a riviera of pure and true love, and vowing a lifetime of vibrant sunsets to witness. To that, all you could say was:

Thank you, Colmar. Thank you.

[allthatglittersisnotgoldrush]

Author Interview: Victoryindeath2 (by TolkienGirl)

Thank you @thelonelybrilliance!

1.     What fanfic trope do you think the AU has a unique spin on and why?

So seven card stud is the best and funniest strip poker/crossdressing fic you will ever find.

Definitely love how we grow the found family trope, particularly in regards to Maedhros and Gwindor, which I shall say more on in the question below. It is our own platonic version of the ships passing in the night trope—Maedhros and Gwindor are never mentioned as having met in canon, let alone spoken of in any way that might hint at their having any basis for friendship. I myself have never read any fics where there was any sort of bond between them. However, all of the authors love canon Gwindor greatly, and he fit so well into our plans and now has became more important and dear than we could ever imagine, so much so that I have to stop and remind myself that Maedhros and Gwindor are not brotp in canon. It’s honestly one of my favorite departures from the original Silm!

2.     What are your three favorite friendships between people who are NOT related to each other?

My most FAVORITE friendship between unrelated characters is unquestionably the friendship between Maedhros and Gwindor. Maedhros gives Gwindor hope, freedom, and another little brother to love and guard, and Gwindor gives his Russandol the older brother he never had, good simple understanding without judgment, a care that doesn’t yield to Maedhros’s judgement of himself and fights against Maedhros’s frequent (understandable) self-pity and self-hatred. They could not have made it out of the thrall camp without each other, nor saved as many people as they did. Even now, Maedhros is one of the few solid good things Gwindor has to steady himself with as he tries to adjust to a world where he is not a slave, Maedhros is the person who turns Gwindor’s words back on him to say, you must think better of yourself! And Gwindor is now, as he was back in the thrall camp, the hand that Maedhros can bear to cling to when he is most hurt, frightened, and sad.

Ah...sometimes I like to dream about Gwindor getting to be an older brother figure to Mae back in Formenos and city days...the things that might have changed for the better...

There are many other good friendships but two in particular stand out: Finrod and Beren and Haleth and Luthien. Beren has lost his whole family and people, has suffered injury and been an outcast, thrown out of Doriath, separated from the young woman he loves, and here comes Finrod, some pretty boy from back East who has lots of noble ideas in his head, probably an awful lot of naivety at their meeting, but also a brave, loyal, laughing heart. So far we haven’t explored their friendship in as much detail as some relationships, but rest assured that....it will feature heavily in the future. I really hope that we can drop in little stories of their early friendship as we go along. For now, the fic Clarity has some of my favorite moments between them! I am very excited for the future with them!

As for Haleth and Luthien—well they are such contrasts aren’t they? Haleth, grim, younger than Luthien but more versed in the cruelty of the world, and Luthien, bright and eager to go out into the world and find Beren, unafraid for now of what it might have in store for her and her loved ones. They are both strong-willed, determined young women though, and I adore every moment between them. Haleth, always bringing what word she can of Beren to Luthien, protecting her secret, teaching her to fight, being slightly taken aback at the thought that yes, Luthien is her friend. And Luthien having nothing but respect for Haleth. The most recent fic between them was honestly the sweetest, cutest thing!

3.     What is a “missing scene” that you wish could be written into the AU during the past year (1852)?

You know what I would want? A little scene between Fingolfin and Finrod, set after Maedhros has been rescued and Fingolfin is very tired and Finrod tries to tell him to go to bed or something and then Fingolfin confesses that he misses his brother Finarfin very much and then probably apologizes because of course Finrod must miss his father greatly and he shouldn’t have brought up the subject but Finrod is like, it’s okay, and then encourages Fingolfin to tell stories about their boyhood together, and it’s all sort of soft and sad and healing for the both of them <3

4.     Which character has made you cry the most as a reader and/or writer?

As a reader? Ahahaha Maedhros wins by a long shot. I cried so many times during his Angband days, but also in fics both in Mithrim and Formenos, when he was younger and had no idea of what was in store for him. Shoutout to any soft scene between him and his brothers, particular him and Maglor. Give me them holding each other or playing with each other’s hair while being sad and I just—weep. I am not so good at regulating my emotions lol

As a writer, well, I don’t usually cry over my own works, but recently I got very emo when re-reading of the armature and the reinforcement (let us move lightly). It’s hard to see young happy recently-married Feanor and Nerdanel, with baby Maitimo on the way, and to know how Feanor will change and their family will fall apart in years to come. Also, I played myself by having the actor Lee Joon Gi in mind as a model for young Feanor’s mannerisms :/

5.     Update us on the state of Caranthir’s kitchen and garden.

If this is a poorly concealed “where the heck is that fic you have been promising us,” well, I stick my tongue out at you.

Jk I’m gonna go work on it after I finish these questions lol. Let’s just say that with everything happening right now, Caranthir has probably been stress cleaning the kitchen, and it would be immaculate if it weren’t for certain people being difficult. As for the garden, if you think its crooked layout does not bother Caranthir at least once per day, you would be wrong. I’m sure that in a month or so he is going to want to dig the whole thing up and get out little stakes and strings and drive everyone crazy by being extremely particular about the makeover.

Bonus: Describe what would happen if Gwindor met Feanor

OH MAN OH MAN. GWINDOR WOULD FULFILL MY FANTASY OF GIVING THAT MAN A FIST TO THE FACE

I mean look I have this strange love for Feanor and he is tragic in many ways and I mourn his loss and the person he could have been and sometimes was, but also—

He was a terrible dad. As we have all seen. As Gwindor has sussed out and had some confirmation of. If the Gwindor of right now could go back in time and meet Feanor sticking needles into Mae, I’m pretty sure he would have murdered him then and there, or at least, beat him into the ground and then been like, hello Nerdanel, ma’am, I am your eldest son’s guardian angel in the flesh and I am moving in with you to be a barrier between him and his dad and if he so much as looks at Mae wrong I will throw him in his own forge fire.

If the Gwindor of right now could meet a resurrected Feanor—things would be bloody and Feanor would be told what for in the strongest of terms probably while being shoved against a wall, an arm against his neck, and then Gwindor would be like cool now that you understand just how terrible of a person you are and how you should probably burn in hellfire, you can go to Maedhros and beg his forgiveness and tell him how is a much better person that you ever were or could be and that it is up to him to ask you to stick around even though I, Gwindor, would prefer you to never see him again, but like, Maedhros probably wouldn’t want that so I will have to deal and you will have to shape up or I will ship you out

GET YOU A FRIEND LIKE GWINDOR

[miikrokkosmos]

assistance || namjoon x reader

pairing: namjoon x reader

genre: fluff, angst, idol!namjoon, assistant manager!reader

word count: 4.3k

summary: Namjoon oversteps the line of what is appropriate in regards to his professional relationship with you, one of BTS’s assistant managers, and in more ways than one. Not that you could complain, though.

a/n: hey! i promise i will not be regularly leaving notes like this, but just wanted to say hey, i’m a new BTS fic writer, so feel free to say hi (or leave me fic ideas/requests!! i can’t promise to write every request, but i appreciate any inspo!) and this is something i hate to ask, but just wanted to say that i can’t express how much i’d appreciate a reblog if you enjoy this fic! just bc i am a brand new blog and have no other way of getting my stuff out there. thanks for reading, i hope you enjoy, and again, any ideas or criticisms would be so appreciated!! <3

______________________________________________________________________

What on earth was he thinking.

You had no idea what you were taking on when you accepted a job offer in an assistant management position with BigHit. You thought it would be a comfy little job to get your foot in the door of a big entertainment corporation while you continued your grad school studies on the side. You didn’t think your days would be taken up with helping your senior managers assisting a group of energetic young men with the craziest tasks. You didn’t think you’d travel the world, shielding the band from overzealous fans at airports, or that you’d be waking up at 5 am to help figure out scheduling issues with the other managers. And you certainly didn’t think you’d catch the eye and attention of one Kim Namjoon.

The interactions had started out simple enough. The time he overhead you instructing the other managers about the members’ particular favourite coffee orders, and he made it clear he was impressed with your attention to detail after working with them for only a small amount of time. When he shyly grinned the time you jumped in front of him at the airport when a fan’s reaching hand came a little too close to his jacket. The day he called you over to play Mario Kart with him and the boys while they were waiting their turn to perform somewhere, because he noticed you standing in the corner, not privy to the conversations of the older male managers who always seemed to subconsciously you leave you out. The day he was panicking, searching for a book he was reading before a show, and you had found it behind a make-up chair he had been sitting in. He gave you the biggest smile along with a “thank you” as he placed his warm hand on your shoulder, making you madly blush in front of the whole team. And most recently, the day he came over to where you were sitting, unprompted, just to chat with you in between sets. You were busy taking notes and studying for an exam the next day in between requests from the other managers while the boys were performing. He was very interested in what you were studying, but was appalled to see how much work you had due in between tasks and running errands for the team, let alone the massive migraine that was plaguing you as a result. As he was getting called to the stage, he offered to help you study. You were completely taken aback, and all you could muster was a “maybe”.

You initially beat yourself up for not being more accepting of his offer, but you were just so shocked. Why would an idol, who was by far your superior, want to give of his precious free time to help you study? Well, you had a feeling bubbling up inside of you whenever he glanced your way, and you were worried maybe he was feeling the same. Or maybe he was just horny. Which is why you were so hesitant to readily accept his kindness – what would be the point? Nothing could come of it. It wouldn’t be professionally appropriate to take interest in each other’s personal lives, and a “work friends with benefits” certainly wouldn’t be appropriate, not that you were interested in that kind of thing anyway.

Suffice it to say, you were more than a little shocked when you got called into a meeting with your superiors questioning after your personal health and wellbeing, due to a certain Kim Namjoon sending them a detailed email on your behalf speaking of your migraines and overworked schedule, imploring them to be more lax and flexible with you. You had vehemently apologized and promised you were perfectly capable of keeping up with (and grateful for) your work hours, and your headaches were of your own doing for staying up too late during your personal time (you left out the part of how you had to stay up all night just to keep up with your school work on top of your job). And when they not-so-subtly asked why Namjoon of all people was the one to bring the issue up, you hastily told them you had no idea, as you prayed in your head as fervently as possible that they couldn’t see the flush rising on your cheeks.

You left, trying to fight the small part of yourself that was touched by Namjoon worrying about you, and attempting to focus on the fury that was boiling within you for him doing something like that without even consulting you. It could have cost you your job, if the managers above you were any less understanding. The managers’ questions of why Namjoon had contacted them were haunting you. Why did he take that upon himself?

You knew why.

You just wish you didn’t.

______________________________________________________________________

Clad in pajama shorts and a baggy tee, you were slumped in a chair at the desk in your hotel room, working away at the homework on your laptop in an attempt to distract yourself from your feelings about the day’s events as well as those about a certain person. You were snapped out of your stupor when two loud raps sounded at your door. As you stood up to walk to the door, you glanced towards the clock – 1:19 am. Hhmm.

You didn’t glance at the peephole for fear you would stop yourself from opening the door if you knew who was there. Instead, you swung the door wide open, and there he was. Grey sweatpants, an oversized t-shirt, dimples on full display.

“Namjoon-nim,” you stated, more than greeted, mustering as close to a death glare as you could in the tall boy’s direction.

If he noticed the expression on your face, he didn’t show it, and greeted you with a wide grin. “Hi. I was wondering if now would be a good time to help you with some studying? If it’s not too late, of course. I just remember you mentioning you had an exam coming up soon, and…,” his mile-a-minute voice trailing off into an awkward giggle, as he realizes he’s still standing in your doorway, “May I come in?”

You slowly move to the side to make way for him, shutting the door behind you. You lean your back against the door with a loud sigh and put your head in your hands once you lock it.

Namjoon notices your disposition this time, his head quickly snapping towards you at the sound of your loud breathing. “Hey, _____, what’s wrong?”

Your snap your harsh eyes up to meet his soft ones, slowly walking towards him. “Namjoon-nim.”

“Are you stressed about your exam? I promise I will give you all of my time to help you study if you need it. Try not to stress about it so much, you’re a smart woman and -“

“Namjoon.” You stop walking when you are less than a foot apart from his face.

His soft gaze turns concerned. He closes his mouth, and prods you to continue with his eyes, deciding it best to give his words a break.

You do your best to keep your harsh stare steady, but it’s so much harder to do when you’re close enough to brush the fluffy strands of hair out of his eyes if you only lifted your hand. “Namjoon. Why did you have to reach out to the managers? What would possess you to do such a thing?”

His face contorts into an expression both relieved and confused at the same time. “Is that why you’re upset? I talked to them because I want you to take care of yourself. It’s not fair for you to have to be up before us, to bed later than us, giving yourself migraines trying to fit in an education on top of it. I just thought…it would help if I said something.” He looks down to his toes, not daring to meet your gaze.

You’re glad for the lack of eye contact, because you know you wouldn’t be able to seem as serious and angry as you want to if you were to meet his eyes. “I can appreciate all of that Namjoon, but it’s not your job to worry about me. What you did…I could’ve lost my job.”

As his eyes snap up, it becomes your turn to stare into the floor. “You’re not gonna lose your job. You’re too important to BigHit for that to happen.”

You huff a bitter laugh at that and walk around him to sit on the end of your bed, not being able to stand up in his face like you were for a moment longer. “That’s easy for you to say. I’m a lot more replaceable than someone like you are, and you and I both know it.”

“No, _____, I’m serious. They need you. Nobody knows the team like you do.” He walks over until he’s standing in front of you, between your legs. You embarrass yourself by letting out an involuntary gasp at his closeness, leaning back on your elbows on the bed to keep your distance. “I understand that’s not the point right now though. And I am sorry if my actions made you uncomfortable,” he says, kneeling down and taking your hands in his own. His eyes are staring into your own, hoping, pleading to get through to you. “It just hurts to see you struggling in any way. It has to be obvious by now that I care about you, _____” he says, voice barely above a whisper, as he reaches up to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, and then leaves his hand resting under your cheek.

You go against your better judgement and give into his touch as he leans closer, leaving you no choice but to meet him half way and let him press his plush lips to yours. You both lean backward onto the bed until he is hovering over you, and for a small moment you let yourself revel in the feeling that you didn’t dare let yourself dream about before. But the butterflies in your stomach soon turn into a knot, all of your suppressed fears and feelings coming to a head until you feel tears rolling out of your eyes and onto Namjoon’s face. You’re embarrassed but you can’t stop the tears from coming, gently pushing on Namjoon’s chest to get him off of you. Once he realizes the situation he quickly backs away until he’s sitting at your side on the bed, gingerly placing his hands in his lap. “I’m sorry, _____.”

His unnecessary apology just makes you sob all the more. “We can’t do this,” you say almost as much to yourself as you do to him. You let your head hang, hugging yourself into a ball as you continue to weep.

Namjoon looks around himself, unsure of the best way to help the situation. Still keeping his hands to himself, he leans his head closer to your own lowly-hanging one to be at eye level. “I’m sorry, _____, please try to relax.”

You snap your head up quickly to stare into his eyes, your own (y/e/c) eyes full of hot tears. “Joon.” His gaze softens, perhaps even turns a little sad, at the sound of the nickname. “We can’t do this, Joon. We can’t get attached.”

Getting his bravery back, Namjoon lets his hands rise up to hesitantly cup both of your cheeks and hold your head in place. “It’s too late for me, _____. None of this will change anything for me.” He drops his head, his own eyes slightly beginning to swell. “I’m sorry, but it’s the truth.”

A wave of realization washes over you, that this is actually happening, as you gaze sadly at the crying boy in front of you. You reach out a hand to brush gently through his shaggy locks, until you let your hand trail down to under his chin to push up gently so that his eyes meet yours once more. “I’m already attached too,” you admit in a tone so soft, as if speaking any louder would shatter the air around you.

The sadness in Namjoon’s eyes is replaced with a slight glimmer of hope, his eyes shining with a mix of his own tears and a reflection of the dancing city lights shining through the window behind you. But before he can open his mouth and give himself false hope, you gently place a finger over his lips.

“It doesn’t matter though, Joon. They’d never allow anything. You know it. If they found out I’d be transferred away from you at best, fired at worst. Nothing can work.”

“We can be a secret. We can make somethingwork.”

“How? We work together, all day, every day. People would know.”

“_____.” Namjoon breathes out your name, moving one of his hands to behind your back to gently pull you into his side, using his other hand to clasp one of your own tightly. You shudder at the close proximity, still not used to being anywhere near this close to him.

He looks down at you with heavy eyes, choosing his next words carefully. “It’s late. We’re both tired. Can we try to get some sleep and have a real conversation about this in the morning?”

As much as you want to get the pain over with and end the conversation now, you can’t bring yourself to say no when he’s staring down into your eyes with such a pure and sad longing. “Okay.”

You begin to push yourself off of him in order to show him out the door, but he grabs you by the waist and back into his shoulder. In a shaky voice, he pleads, “No. Can I sleep here…please? It’s just…you’re right. Realistically, I don’t know what, if anything,we can work out in the morning. But let’s just have tonight. Together. No one will know and it’s not going to affect or change anything for the worse at this point. If we can’t have every day, let’s just be at peace with each other tonight, as if we’re together. Please. And we can talk and work everything out for real in the morning. Right now I just…need to hold you.”

Any emotional strength you had left has been spent now, and there is nothing else you can do but give in. “Okay.”

Namjoon quirks an eyebrow at you, trying to ease out of his serious mindset for both of your sakes. “Deal?”

“Deal,” you say, nodding at him as you straighten your posture in his embrace. “But we do actually have to sleep. I have to be up in four hours, so I’m going to get ready for bed,” you add, standing up off the bed to head to the bathroom.

“Of course,” he says as he, too, rises. You begin to sift through your suitcase for a suitable pair of pajamas when you notice he has taken his shirt off and thrown it to the floor next to you – his version of “getting ready for bed”. You stop shuffling through your clothes for a moment as you think to yourself, and then grab his shirt from its balled-up position on the floor.

“So,” you drawl out, to get his attention, “If we’re in a relationship for tonight, that means I can wear this, right?” You hold his shirt out into the air in front of you.

His eyes widen, momentarily surprised, but soon a shy little grin overtakes his features. “Yes. Yes, of course.” He nods at you.

“Good,” you say, as you walk into the mini bathroom next to you.

After brushing your teeth and splashing water on your tear-stained face, you hop out of your clothes and into his oversized shirt, comfortably hitting you mid-thigh. You walk out of the bathroom to find him sitting crossed-legged on the bed with the covers pulled all the way back, waiting expectantly for you. His face scrunches into a bashful grin when he sees you clad in just his shirt. “You look so good.”

You loudly scoff at that as you climb into the spot next to him on the bed. “I have no makeup on, my face is puffy from crying…you really are sleep deprived, aren’t you?”

He rolls his eyes and smiles sweetly at you. Neither one of you move to lie down first, instead just sitting up on the bed, gazing at each other. It really hits you in this moment, the strangeness of it all, sitting on a bed next to someone who is essentially your boss. Yet even in the midst of the strangeness, and the unknowns, you can’t calm the feeling rising inside of you of how rightit all feels. Still, you don’t let yourself linger on that, and find yourself slipping into work mode when you let your mind linger too long on the fact that the man next to you whom you care about deeply is also 1/7thof the reason you have a job and get paid.

You glance down and take note of his attire. “Oh, Namjoon, I’m sorry, you’re still wearing your sweats…do you need me to find you something else to change into? Are you comfortable?” He smiles and puts a hand over yours, about to open his mouth before you cut him off with more of your nervous rambling, “Okay, uh, do you need some water or something before you sleep? Let me go find – “

“_____, stop. You’re not working. It’s just you and me.”

You smile at those words.

“Do you need anything?”

Those were words you were not used to being on the receiving end of. You smile and shake your head gently.

“Okay then,” he says with a grin, reaching down to the foot of the bed in order to bring the blankets up to your waists. You both lie back, and Namjoon turns his body towards yours to bring you closer only to find you a ridiculous amount of space away from him, stiffly staring up at the ceiling.

“Hey, _____,” he coos, and chuckles as you immediately whip your head towards him, “You can come closer, baby.”

Your mouth makes an “oh” shape as you realize how you subconsciously forced yourself to stay so far away, and inch sideways towards him until you are touching the elbow he has himself propped up on, your gaze back to being stuck on the ceiling.

He smirks and leans over until his face is hovering next to your own, and whispers, “Closer.”

This time, you will yourself to turn so your body is on its side facing him, and inch into his body until your face is pressed into his impossibly firm chest. Your wrap your arm around his waist, and he wraps his around yours, protectively pressing into your back, which pushes you until any possible remaining space has been squeezed out from between you. With your head tucked in under his chin and your ankles intertwined, you’re not sure if you’ve ever felt more secure or comforted in your life.

Namjoon presses a soft kiss to your hairline. “Please tell me I’m not the only one noticing how perfectly we fit together,” he breathes out onto your scalp.

You close your eyes and nuzzle into him further at his words, trying to hide your face from him. “Don’t think things like that, Joon. It’ll only make it harder.”

“Hey, we’re boyfriend and girlfriend tonight, remember? That’s a normal thing for someone in a relationship to think about.”

You gently nod under his head. You can’t argue him.

With both of your minds still wide awake, and not wanting to miss a moment of time together in your little bubble, the next hour ticks by quickly spent with you snuggling impossibly closer into each other, Namjoon gently carding his fingers through your hair. “I have insomnia. I’m sorry if I’m keeping you awake,” you whisper to him, worried you are unintentionally keeping him up, as well.

“It’s okay,” he says, “I’m here now. Just focus on my heartbeat.”

Which you do. It’s almost as loud as your own. You listen to the beat until you eventually doze off into the most restful three-hour sleep of your life.

_______________________________________________________________________

When you awaken in the morning, you have to keep yourself from jolting once you realize you’re still wrapped tightly in someone else’s arms, instead of sprawled out across your bed alone like usual. You gently nuzzle back into Namjoon’s hold, carefully trying not to wake him, as you want to make whatever it was that you both were doing last as long as possible.

You enjoy the next few minutes just staring up at his serene, peaceful face, looking absolutely beautiful under the sun’s rays coming through the window washing over his face. A few moments later he stirs, and throws his neck back, stretching out his whole body, yet still refusing to remove his arms from your torso. Eventually he opens his eyes, and breaks out into a wide, soft grin when he notices your doe-eyed expression staring back up at him. You gently rake your fingers through his soft locks for a while, letting each other get lost in the other’s presence.

“This is my favourite way I’ve ever woken up,” you breathe out, hand still entwined in his hair.

Namjoon offers a small smile as he reaches up to extricate your hand and hold it in his own.  He brings it to his chest, his large thumb brushing gently over your fingers. “Could we…do you think we could maybe put off our conversation until we have breakfast? Just so we can at least…eat together, and talk over coffee.” He smiles expectantly at you, knowing you can’t argue with that logic.

“Yeah,” you nod. “That’s a good plan.”

You stretch out to relieve your kinked up body, having not moved since the night before. But as soon as you extricate yourself from his grasp, he whines, making grabby hands to try and get you back. You have no choice but to roll back over, this time your body directly on top of his, with him lying on his back. He wraps his arm around your body once more, and you bury your face into his neck.

“So…when are we making breakfast?” he teases.

“Midnight,” you firmly reply, placing your lips on his collarbone for good measure.

“Okay.”

_______________________________________________________________________

Twenty minutes later you both have no choice but to drag yourselves out of bed and move on with the day. After you get dressed in the bathroom, you walk over to him with his t-shirt in hand and reach it out to him.

“What?”

“Your shirt.”

“Keep it.”

“Namjoon – “

“We still haven’t had our conversation yet, _____. No reason to give it back,” he says, not even attempting to hide the smirk on his face.

You smile up at him, a wistful look in your eye as you place the neatly folded shirt down on the foot of the bed.

You both spend the next half hour trying to make each other toast and omelettes, which ends in you putting Namjoon on coffee duty, since that’s the thing he’s least likely to burn. Seated next to each other at the small table in the hotel room, you enjoy your meal together, deep in conversations about anything other than what your subconsciouses were focused on. Not that either of you could complain. You enjoyed getting to talk about books, art, your hometowns, movies, your pets, and everything you didn’t get to converse about in your usual work environment.

Once you both downed the last of your coffees, the mood turned serious. You turned on your stools to face each other. “I have to leave for a meeting soon,” you said. His eyes turned sad. “Yeah, I have practice soon, too.”

He gently placed a hand behind your neck, slowly you dragging you forward to press his lips to yours once more. You move your mouths against each other with all the passion you felt inside of you, knowing this could very well be your last kiss. With heavy hearts you eventually had to tear apart, and straightened yourselves out in your chairs in preparation for the conversation ahead.

“So, about us…” Namjoon nervously trailed off, not quite sure how to begin such a difficult conversation.

You just stared at him, unsure yourself of what to say. Of what you could say, even. You let your eyes trail to the clock before glancing back over to Namjoon’s eyes, a tiny glint appearing in your own.

“My meeting actually starts very soon.”

Namjoon’s mouth quirks up at the end slightly. “I see.”

“Maybe we should be responsible and go to work, maybe we should put off talking…just a little bit longer.”

“I think that maybe that would be the smart and responsible thing to do, yes.”

“Okay then,” you say, standing up quickly. “Sounds good to me.”

You walk over to the night table to pick up your phone and keys, stopping when you walk by the shirt still sitting on the end of your bed. “Joon, don’t forget your shirt.”

He walks towards you and places his hands on your shoulders. He drops a quick kiss on your forehead. “Keep it,” he says with a wink.

With that, he grabs his own phone off the table behind you and leaves you to finish getting ready for the day. You edge back to sit against the bed, letting a small giggle escape from your lips, not sure the past twelve hours had actually even happened.

What on earth was he thinking.

[prompt-wars-in-the-stars]

Sorry it took an age! Here's the D&D Modern Star Wars AU with bonus Jango x Obi since you gave free reign with parings.

Obi-Wan was not quite sure what to expect when he had been invited to Anakin's 'campaign'.  He'd understood his little brother had began playing a role-playing game once he started college and had been happy to see how it helped Anakin bloom in confidence and his moods mellowed out as he befriended his 'party members'. Obi-Wan had gone to a game shop and the young woman working there had happily helped him purchase some dice and books for Anakin when he'd realized his brother was not going to let this hobby go anytime soon. Seeing Anakin beaming when he opened the presents had made the disbelief and judgement of the worker's worth it. Apparently Obi-Wan did not look sufficiently 'nerdy' as the teenage worker, A. Tano had explained. 

Obi-Wan was fairly certain nerd was supposed to be an insult. It certainly had when he was younger, but the girl had said it with pride and he'd seen the merchandise bearing the word. So perhaps he was just out of touch.

When he'd received Anakin's invitation, it had been a text that had been followed by 'only if you wanna', 'our DM really wants some new blood', 'we don't see each other much any', and 'IGNORE THAT IT WASN'T FOR YOU'. Obi-Wan had spotted the obvious lie and felt instantly guilty. They had been spending less time together with Obi-Wan's new book and promotions for the movie and Anakin being at college and with his friends so often. It would be a good structured way to see each other each week. Anakin had tried to be nonchalant when he'd said yes, but Obi-Wan knew he'd been grinning and vowed to make sure it was a good game and threw himself into research. 

A. Tano, who finally introduced herself as Ahsoka, had been happy to help and had turned out to be a player herself, explaining classes and races and lore to him as they looked through dice and The Player's Handbook. She'd offered to just send him her PDF's of the book, but he'd declined though it was sweet. He preferred physical books and enjoyed being able to tab and write in them. Although he did accept the many websites she directed him to that were quite helpful.

All in all with a few texts to Anakin, who sounded more and more wary of his specific game related questions, he felt quite confident in his character and emailed the DM, whose name Anakin had failed to supply, his typed up storyline and sheet for approval.

The man, presumably one of Anakin's classmates, and it was an odd thought to have a 20 something with some authority over him, had approved it and complimented his storyline with something along the lines of, 'It's always nice to have another story and roleplay player in the group. I was concerned Anakin had invited another Murder Hobo, but you will do nicely Kenobi.' Anakin had sent him a long line of 'lols'  when he'd asked what a 'Murder Hobo' was and promptly forgot to explain it as he instead asked for romantic advice. 'For a friend.' After she'd finished laughing, Ahsoka had, yet again, proved much more helpful in explaining and managed to get Obi-Wan to buy another set of dice, a lovely blue shade that glimmered and had gold numbers. He had yet to play and he was becoming quite fond of collecting the different colored sets. His first one had been 'Lawful Good' at Ahsoka's insistence.

All in all he felt confident as he drove to the address Anakin had texted him and the DM, who never signed his emails, had confirmed. He'd been expecting some first time apartment or perhaps, at worst, a dorm. Instead his GPS led him further and further into the countryside outside the city Anakin went to school, until he was turning down a gravel driveway. The road was covered in trees on both sides that bent over it, cutting off the sky as the outstretched branches blended together and pretty soon he was going up a small hill, into the large forest he had spotted from the freeway. Obi-Wan was somewhat nervous, but his GPS assured him this was correct and then he was pulling into a large lawn spotted with cars and staring at a beautiful sprawling cabin style home with a full wrap around porch, garden out of a fairytale and picturesque pond with a small pier.

That was not a college student's home, but he could clearly see Anakin on the porch talking enthusiastically to an older looking young woman with a besotted look Obi-Wan recognized. Perhaps it was one of Anakin's friends' parent's home? Obi-Wan realized he was suddenly nervous at the realization that besides Anakin, his neighbor, and his agent he hadn't really socialized with anyone since they'd moved here two years ago. That was a bit embarrassing. 

Before he could consider it too long he parked beside one of the other vehicles and saw Anakin look up and grin like the sun at the sight of him. It made Obi-Wan relax. He would be fine. For goodness sakes he was a friendly grown man he could socialize fine. He'd even been called charming on more than one occasion. 

It would be fine.

Obi-Wan hurriedly collected his binder and then grabbed the cloth bag containing the snacks. Ahsoka had insisted that snacks were a must for any game and helped him select a collection beyond Anakin's favourites. Obi-Wan got out and just managed to brace himself in time for Anakin to launch himself at Obi-Wan and wrap him in a tight hug. Obi-Wan stifled a laugh into his brother's shoulder and returned it one armed only protesting when Anakin tried to pick him up. The boy, young man now, laughed at his protest but dropped him. He looked up into familiar blue eyes on a tanned face framed by a mess of long curls and felt something inside him soften.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan said, full of affection and then to distract from it reached out to gently tug the curls. "It's gotten even longer."

Anakin rolled his eyes pulling away, grumbling but still grinning.

"Qui-Gon's was longer," Anakin pointed out,  the same argument he'd used when he said he wanted to start growing it out. "And it's nothing compared to your mullet."

"It was not a mullet," Obi-Wan protested by rote and was surprised when there was a soft feminine laugh from behind Anakin.

Obi-Wan looked over Anakin's shoulder to find a lovely young woman a few years older than his brother. Her brown hair was done up in a lovely curling style and she smiled brightly. She wore an odd dress that was deep blue dress frames with black lace with odd white square patterned corset that resembled windows on the waist. There were swirling shapes in the blue and he could see up close that the top of black bodice said "Police Box" in white lettering.

"Oh, hello there," Obi-Wan said, slightly surprised. Anakin looked askance at the greeting which made Obi-Wan want to roll his eyes. Instead though he smiled and side stepped his brother to offer the woman his hand, shifting the handle of the snack bag to his wrist. Anakin had the absurd idea that Obi-Wan was an unconscious flirt, which was ridiculous. He may have bantered with others on occasion, but it was all very lighthearted and he hadn't pursued a flirtation in years. As it was he was suspecting he had become too much of an odd hermit to be all that appealing despite Anakin's insistence of 'seductions'.

He was even convinced that Obi-Wan's neighbor had some kind of crush on him rather than a strangely intense hatred and disapproval.

'Hello there' was not his 'signature move' despite what Anakin liked to claim.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi," he said, ignoring Anakin's betrayed look as the woman shook his. Her hands were small but strong. 

"Padmé Naberrie," the woman returned with a dimpled smile of her own.

"Queen Amidala?" Obi-Wan asked, startled and Padmé looked just as surprised but then beamed laughing.

"You follow my blog?" She sounded torn between flattered and embarrassed. 

Obi-Wan nodded. "Your analysis is very thoughtful and it's been helpful for developing my more political character's thought processes as well as provoking me to consider my own--How did you put it, 'civic duty and impact on my government and holding them accountable'?"

"Oh," Padmé said with a smile and her face sharpened with interest. "Anakin mentioned you were a writer. You're focusing on something political?"

"A bit of alternate history fun," Obi-Wan admitted lightly. He was very much not thinking on the stacks and stacks of posted notes covering his desks, hours of recorded footage from documentaries, and books that were more sticky notes and highlighting than text. He was ignoring the hours and hours of time thrown into research spirals.

"What are you changing?" Padmé asked, eyes bright and interested. 

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to answer but was cut off by a loud clap beside them. They both turned to find Anakin standing there hands together looking embarrassed and vaguely panicked. Obi-Wan stared, confused as his brother went pink and started speaking, rushed and stumbling.

"Alright. Don't wanna be late for game!" Anakin choked up and ducked between them grabbing Obi-Wan's arm. "COME ON OBI-WAN YOU CAN SIT BESIDE ME."

Obi-Wan allowed himself to be dragged, stunned by this but Padmé laughed lightly behind them. He noted the color on Anakin's face deepened at the sound and he felt something inside him soften. He had not imagined the besotted look then and he had most likely found the one behind the advice for Anakin's 'friend'. 

Obi-Wan hid a small smile as he followed Anakin inside. It was loud, though the noise seemed to be coming from down the stairs to the immediate right. The first thing Obi-Wan saw was a very comfortable living room with some weapons hung on the wall, one wall reserved for what appeared to be an album's worth of family photos, a large TV, and several glass cases that seemed to contain figurines and models. Children's toys were scattered haphazardly throughout and this along with the colorful quilts, the homework and crayons spread out on the coffee table, and baby pen folded in the corner seemed to soften the room.

Obi-Wan's smile stayed firm until he looked at the man in the middle of the room who was collecting the scattered toys to place in a box. Clearly older, closer to Obi-Wan's age and likely the parent of Anakin's friend. Obi-Wan opened his mouth to greet him only for the man to look up and for Obi-Wan to come face to face with familiar brown eyes.

His words died.

The man looked just as stunned--even more handsome than when Obi-Wan had last seen him, part of him pointed out--half bent over, one hand wrapped around a stuffed dragon and the other stabilizing the toy box he was carrying. He was slightly rumbled in soft worn-in sweatpants that clung to his thighs and a white tank top that fully displayed his arms. The outfit was finished by a lopsided crown of dandelions and wildflowers, resting on his head. He looked so much softer, older of course with wrinkles around his eyes and a few small scars, but there were smile lines and he looked so much more in his element in a way that made Obi-Wan's heart squeeze and a worry he'd carried for two decades unfurled.

"Obi-Wan?" Anakin's voice knocked them both out of the staring. Obi-Wan jumped and turned to Anakin to find him frowning and then flickering a quick look to the man. "Do-do you know Jango?"

He sounded so baffled by the concept.

Obi-Wan honestly wasn't sure how to answer or how much was his to share.

"We're old friends," Jango said smoothly stepping forward to offer his hand and a smile as he met Obi-Wan's gaze.

Obi-Wan took it, feeling the warmth and calluses of his palms without quite believing this surreal moment was happening.

"Yes," Obi-Wan confirmed, voice thankfully not showing the strange mess of his thoughts. His eyes were focused on Jango's taking in the color he'd used to know so well. "Very old ones."

The warmth lingered as the broke apart and Obi-Wan felt strangely bereft at that and curled his palm closed as if to keep the memory of the sensation from fading.

"Time for game," Jango said, firmly and Anakin looked ready to protest, but a soft touch on his shoulder had him following Padmé down the stairs leaving Obi-Wan alone with one last suspicious glance.

Alone with Jango. Who he hadn't seen since he was sixteen and completely besotted.

[lake-arrius-caverns]

Prologue - pt 3

content warnings strong language

ik im a bit late with this one, writers block got me hard 😔

next coming hopefully Sunday? lol

read under the cut or on AO3, cheers 👍

:: First :: || << Previous << || >> Next >> || :: Masterpost ::

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Fahjoth’s mood was as dull as the weather as he hastily returned to the Waterfront, completely drenched from head to toe as a result of the sudden onslaught of rain that showed no sign of letting up anytime soon. Typical of the skies to open up while he was wandering around the Market District of the city, strolling around while trying to work through the muddled thoughts circling in his head. He had been in a dour mood when he embarked, and now it was even worse on his return.

He should have seen it coming, he reflected ruefully; the thick blanket of heavy, dark cloud overhead had not shifted since it first settled in that morning. There was bound to have been a downpour sooner or later. But Fahjoth had to get away from the Waterfront for a while, to go somewhere where he could be alone with his thoughts. And there was plenty to think about. 

They should be hearing from Shadra soon enough, bringing news from the cult currently spending far too much time in the city. The problems were already apparent - within hours of their arrival, the guard patrols had increased and even the most mellow of innkeepers and traders were on edge. And yet, Fahjoth wasn’t confident that a direct confrontation would go at all as well as Cassius seemed to anticipate. 

Fahjoth felt another flicker of bitterness in his chest. Cassius, in all his unrelenting stubbornness, had refused to listen to Fahjoth’s attempts to reason with him. It wasn’t the first time, but now, when it came to such an unpredictable affair, he was frustrated that Cassius had declined to even consider listening to him. Not only was it infuriating, but it was slightly hurtful as well. 

So he had taken a walk in an effort to clear his mind and relax; perhaps stop by the docks on the way back and watch the boats drifting back and forth, as he and Ribyna had done with Abik so often growing up. But his plans were spoiled as he got caught in the lashing rain, ending up soaked to the skin and in an even worse mood than before. It was with some slight relief that he reached the Waterfront again, immediately spotting a welcome sight; a large tent comprised of leather and linen sheets, under which a handful of people and a dog sat. Even through the rain-haze, it was easy to identify Ribyna, Merrick and Abik, and Fahjoth didn’t hesitate to approach, immediately ducking under the shelter to join them. 

“Alright, lads?” he said by way of greeting, roughly shaking his head like a wet dog and allowing a shower of droplets to come flying from his shaggy black hair. Ribyna groaned in annoyance, leaning over to protect the piece of parchment that she and Merrick were holding. 

“For fuck’s sake, Fahjoth, you’re gonna ruin our map!” she complained, staring at him reproachfully. “Where’ve you been, anyway?” 

“Just for a walk,” Fahjoth replied, slightly unwilling to go into detail. He managed a smile as 

Pip came shuffling over to greet him, wagging her tail and poking her nose into Fahjoth’s face as she lathered her tongue over his nose. With a humorous grimace, he playfully pushed her away until she lay back down and then turned his attention back to his twin and the others. “What’ve you been up to?”

“Me and Merrick have been reading this map,” Ribyna said, puffing her chest out with pride. “I can pronounce Fana... Fanasces...” She stopped and grimaced. “Well, I could five minutes ago! I’ve forgotten now.” 

“Never mind the Ayleid ruins,” Merrick interjected with a smile. “She can spell Cheydinhal now! Without needing to look.”

“Yeah!” Ribyna agreed, beaming. “See, I am getting better.” When Fahjoth didn’t offer much of a response, Ribyna reached out and prodded his shoulder. “Come on. What’s the matter?” 

Again, Fahjoth didn’t respond immediately. He simply sat in silence, absently ruffling Pip’s ears and listening to the muffled crackling of the raindrops hitting the sheets overhead. “It’s just... I haven’t spoken to Cassius since... well, since we argued. I’m kind of worried about what’s gonna happen with this cult. If they don’t agree to piss off, and we do end up going to ‘deal with them’... well, I told him it could be dangerous, but he won’t even listen to me!” He winced as he heard the frustration seeping into his voice during his rant. “He never listens to me. Normally it’s fine, y’know, I can deal with it, but... this? It’s like he always knows best, even when we’ve got no idea what we could be up against. How can he possibly know for sure?” 

His three companions remained silent and attentive while Fahjoth ranted, and once he was done he felt his cheeks flush warm with embarrassment. But then Abik spoke up in his usual calm, reassuring tone. 

“For what it’s worth, I agree with you,” he said. “I do think we need to be more careful. A lot of people seem to agree with Cassius though. They’re gonna go along with whatever he suggests. So I reckon the only thing we can do is be there for them, whatever happens.” His dark brown eyes were pensive as he continued. “From what I’ve heard from Vyk, right now, we’ve got the advantage over them in numbers. The worst thing we could do as a group is fracture and split up.” 

“Plus, it might not even come to that,” Merrick piped up, ever hopeful. “They might just leave without making a fuss. I don’t think it’s helpful to worry about something when we don’t even know what’s going to happen yet.” 

Ribyna nodded enthusiastically in agreement, and Fahjoth dipped his head to the three, admittedly beginning to feel reassured. “Yeah... I suppose,” he said cautiously. “It’s just hard not to, y’know?”

“Of course. But, Fahjoth...” Abik added. “You should talk to Cassius about this too. Tell him how you feel. Communication is important.” His expression became momentarily grave. “Not to mention... if the worst does happen, you’d never forgive yourself if you two didn’t make amends. Trust me.” 

Fahjoth inhaled, knowing full well that Abik was right. “Yeah... I’ll- I’ll find him later. ... I will!” he insisted, raising his palms up defensively on seeing Abik give him a knowing look. Abik merely chuckled. 

“Good. I don’t like it when you kids argue,” he sighed. “We’ve got to stick together and look out for each other out here, ‘cause Talos knows no-one else will.” 

“Kids?” Ribyna questioned. “We’re not that young!”

“Compared to me, you might as well be,” Abik chortled. “I’ve been here long enough that I’ve raised half of the people here. Including you lot. It’s like a family - a dysfunctional family, but a family still.”

“You can’t spell dysfunctional without fun,” Merrick chimed in, and Abik pointed at him emphatically. 

“Merrick’s got it. Anyway, bottom line is, you’re all basically my kids. So for gods’ sakes, can you all just get along? That‘d be great.”

Ribyna snorted with laughter. “Hah! What, d’you want us to start calling you dad now? ‘Cause we will! Soppy old git.”

Abik laughed, though he didn’t rise to the teasing. Instead he focused on Fahjoth again. “Still worried, mate?”

Though the discussion had been a welcome distraction, Fahjoth found his mind wandering back to the troubles at hand yet again. “Yeah,” he admitted. 

Before Abik could respond, Ribyna had risen to her feet. “Come on then!” she declared, loping out of the shelter and standing in the sodden grass, beckoning Fahjoth to join her. “Let’s have a match. Get some practise in for when we go to war!”

“What, now?” Fahjoth replied incredulously. “In the rain?”

“Where else?” Ribyna shot back, splaying her arms out tauntingly and raising her voice over the endless lashing of the rain against the saturated ground. “Run at me, bro!”

Dumbfounded for a moment, Fahjoth hesitated. Then, he shrugged and bounced to his feet, darting out into the torrential downpour and squaring up his twin. “Alright, come on then!” he called. As Ribyna whipped out a dagger, Fahjoth did the same; the goal wasn’t to injure, of course, but any practise would be useful. 

“Just be careful, you two!” Abik warned, as he and Merrick watched with interest. “Try not to take any eyes out.” 

Fahjoth and Ribyna began to prowl around each other, each holding back and waiting for the other to make a move. Eventually, Ribyna leapt forward and lunged out at her sibling’s shoulder with the flat side of the blade, which Fahjoth narrowly avoided by stumbling back with haste. He almost lost his footing on the damp grass, feeling his gut lurch as he suddenly slipped, but with a vigorous windmilling of his arms he was able to regain his balance. His recovery didn’t come fast enough, however, as Ribyna took her chance and jumped forward again with another mock whack of her dagger. Fahjoth grimaced as he felt the weapon connect with his ribs with a soft thud, and still wasn’t quick enough to block it with his own. Ribyna’s victorious smirk was both amusing and annoying. 

“Got you!” she taunted, twirling the blade in her fingers. “If this was a real fight, you’d be so dead.”

“Ah come on, I slipped!” Fahjoth protested, remaining on guard in case Ribyna attacked again. Sure enough, she didn’t hesitate. 

“Yeah? Well, slip on this!”

This time, Fahjoth was expecting it. Keeping his stance firm and balanced, he was quick to retaliate - Ribyna’s dagger came sailing past his face as he sidestepped to avoid it, throwing up his own arm to knock Ribyna off-balance. However, a terrible error in judgement resulted in his bunched fist connecting sharply with Ribyna’s face. 

After the second it took to process what had just happened, Fahjoth gasped and immediately retreated, dropping his dagger and bringing his hands up to his face in horror. “Oh fuck Beebs, I’m sorry-!” He blabbed his apologies as Ribyna stood there in mute shock, watching her own blood flowing from her nose and peppering the sodden grass underfoot, mixing with the raindrops and forming watery maroon stains which lay stark against the greenery.

“I told you both to be careful,” Abik groaned. He and Merrick both rose to check on Ribyna, as Fahjoth took a few cautious steps forward himself, but before anyone had a chance to speak, Ribyna pounced. She threw her full body weight into Fahjoth, tackling him to the ground and somehow managing to secure him into a tight headlock before he could even react. 

“Right, that’s it! You’re getting it now!”

“Ribyna-!”

Though it was a relief to know that Ribyna was relatively alright, Fahjoth still wasn’t too keen for a wrestling match at that moment - especially not in the pouring rain over muddy, sludgy ground. But he took the challenge and gave it his best, reluctant to be bested by his twin. Unfortunately, try as he might to free himself, Ribyna wasn’t showing any sign of letting Fahjoth escape; to exacerbate matters, their antics had attracted Pip’s attention, who came bounding over to them with excited barks. Tail flailing from side to side, she lunged at Fahjoth, once again licking his face as she joined the fray. 

“Say you surrender!” she jeered, grinning wickedly as she held her brother tightly in an unforgiving chokehold. 

“Gerroff! You’re getting blood all over me!” Fahjoth exclaimed, wrinkling his nose in disgust despite laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. Eventually though, he figured it would be better to give in. “Alright, alright! I surrender! Now for fuck’s sake, get off-!”

At last, Ribyna accepted his yield and she let Fahjoth go, snickering as she returned to the tent and attempted to wipe the blood from her face. Fahjoth trooped in after her once he managed to calm Pip down again, soaking wet and covered in mud from the rain, while Merrick was on hand to offer Ribyna a handkerchief for her nose. 

“Right, well, have you two gotten that out of your systems?” Abik asked, brow raised as he appraised the twins with a mock stern expression, and the both of them grinned back sheepishly. 

“Yup. That was fun,” Ribyna said, holding the handkerchief to her nose. Abik scoffed and shook his head in response, while Merrick gently held Ribyna’s face with one hand and raised the other to her nose. 

“I think we’ve got different definitions of ‘fun’, Beebs,” he remarked, a warm golden glow beginning to radiate from his palm. Ribyna sat still and allowed herself to be healed, grinning all the while. 

“At least we know I can kick Fahjoth’s arse, whatever the weather” she drawled, and Fahjoth snorted derisively. 

“Says the one who’s covered in their own blood!” he retorted, unable to contain a laugh. Abik rolled his eyes and tossed Fahjoth over a clean scrap of linen, and the four of them winced as Pip entered the shelter and shook off her thick grey fur, covering them all in flecks of dirty water. 

“Get yourself cleaned up too, Fahjoth. Don’t want you dripping muck all over the place.”

Fahjoth obliged, gazing around the shelter in admiration as he stopped to really take it in. “How’d you keep it so dry in here, anyway? I thought it’d be soaked through by now in this weather.”

“Oh, that’s just Merrick being a genius,” Ribyna answered him proudly. “He used a water walking spell on the top. It’s keeping the water right off!” 

Merrick blushed, dismissing the praise with a wave of his hand. “It was quite simple. Not a big deal at all, really.”

“You say that, but magic is hard! Me and Ribyna can barely manage a flame spell between us,” Fahjoth laughed. Ribyna, however, appeared inspired. 

“After this cult bullshit is done with, can you teach me some spells?” she asked, gingerly tapping her nose as Merrick finished up his healing magic. He paused, seemingly surprised before he nodded with enthusiasm. 

“Yeah, course I can! What d’you want to learn the most?”

“Everything!” Ribyna gushed. “Healing, fireballs, invisibility- oh, and levitation! Imagine being able to just fly whenever you want!”

Merrick responded with a wry grin. “Even if I knew levitation magic, I couldn’t teach it to you. Didn’t you know? They banned it earlier this year.”

Ribyna’s face fell at the news. “What?!” she exclaimed, not bothering to hide her disappointment. “Seriously? That’s bullshit!”

Merrick shrugged with a sympathetic smile. “I know, it’s a shame. I wouldn’t have minded learning it myself.”

“Maybe it’s for the best. I think I’d shit myself if I saw Ribyna suddenly flying towards me in midair,” Fahjoth commented, laughing as Ribyna pouted and gave him the middle finger in response. However, Fahjoth’s attention was suddenly grabbed by the arrival of a blonde Imperial to the Waterfront, and he bit his lip with trepidation while considering his options. A knowing look from Abik settled his resolve, and Fahjoth stood up once more. “Hey lads, I’m just gonna...” He gestured vaguely towards the newcomer, and his companions nodded in understanding. 

“Good luck!” Merrick said, giving Fahjoth a thumbs up. 

“If he upsets you again, come tell me and I’ll beat him up!” Ribyna added, and Fahjoth snorted. 

“Yeah, I believe you! I’ll let you know,” Fahjoth joked, flashing them all a grin before taking a deep breath and stepping out into the downpour once more. Jogging slightly to catch up with the Imperial, Fahjoth raised his voice. “Cassius!”

Cassius stopped, squinting against the rain as Fahjoth hastened to catch up with him. The awkward air between them was more than tangible, and Fahjoth was for a moment lost for words. “Can we talk-?” he started, only to shut his mouth instantly as Cassius spoke. 

“Look, Fahjoth, I’ve been thinking, and I... I need to apologise,” he said, his expression remorseful. “I shouldn’t have just... dismissed your worries like that.”

“Oh...” Rather stunned by the quick turnaround, Fahjoth managed a weak smile. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“You know what I’m like. I can be such a dick sometimes.” Cassius shot Fahjoth a grateful smile, offering out his hand which he took without hesitation. “Are we okay?”

“Yeah, course we are,” Fahjoth replied, feeling an overwhelming sense of contentment and relief as he gave Cassius’ hand an affectionate squeeze. “Has there been any news yet?”

“Not yet, but I can’t see Shadra being much longer. She should be back... any time now, really.” Cassius turned his gaze out towards Lake Rumare, softly intertwining his fingers with Fahjoth’s. “You’re not still worrying, are you? ‘Cause I promise, I wouldn’t have challenged them if I thought there was any real danger.”

Deep down, Fahjoth did indeed still have his misgivings, but he decided to hide them for the sake of avoiding confrontation. Instead, he shook his head. “I’m fine. I was talking to Abik and Merrick as well, and... well, I feel a bit better.”

“Oh yeah? Gossiping about me, were you?” Cassius teased, and Fahjoth playfully knocked his shoulder against his. 

“Not everything’s about you, y’know!”

“Hm, I dunno. That sounds fake,” Cassius laughed, only to pause and look around as another voice suddenly called for him, loud and clear despite the incessant rain and soft rumbling of thunder in the distance. 

“Cassius.” 

Instantly, Fahjoth’s worries returned and amplified tenfold as Shadra approached them. The look on her face was enough to tell them everything, but Cassius inquired anyway. 

“What’s the verdict?”

Shadra paused to take a deep breath, before making the grim announcement Fahjoth had been dreading. 

“They didn’t take the bait. They’re meeting us here at dawn. Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Cassius frowned, suddenly looking concerned. Evidently he hadn’t been expecting such a development so soon. “Alright... cheers, Shadra. Let everyone you can know... I still don’t think it’ll come to anything, but we need to make sure we’re all armed as well.” 

“On it,” Shadra replied, dipping her head towards them both before departing once more. Cassius turned to Fahjoth, trying to look reassuring but failing to completely conceal his grim expression. 

“It’ll be fine, Fahjoth. Try not to worry, alright?”

He leaned in close to leave a soft kiss on Fahjoth’s lips, before excusing himself and walking off into the haze. Fahjoth watched him go, then glanced over to the makeshift shelter, where three pairs of inquisitive eyes stared back. Fahjoth heaved a sigh. He was well and truly soaked by now under the lashing rain, but somehow he no longer cared, and he frowned and rubbed his brow with unease. 

“Gods, I wish I had your confidence...”

[lynne-monstr]

Writers Month Day 21: Family (tka, yuhuang)

follow up to Part 1 and Part 2. (de-aged training camp yu wenzhou in the present day)

Part 3.  yu wenzhou meets blue rain.

.

Yu Wenzhou isn’t sure what to expect when he agrees to accompany Huang Shaotian to meet the team. He’d prefer to avoid it altogether if he could. Meeting groups of new people makes him nervous when he hasn’t had a chance to read up on them beforehand. 

In the end, the memory of them piling into the infirmary, noisy and boisterous in their concern for him, makes the decision for him.

Somehow, Huang Shaotian seems to know, and talks nonstop about the team all the way to the training room. “...there’s Song Xiao, he’s great, too! A little inconsistent, okay a lot inconsistent, but he always comes through in the playoffs. You can count on him.”

They’ve gone through nearly the entire team. Except for one. 

“You still haven’t explained why there was a child in that infirmary room with me. Are we recruiting children, now?”

“You mean Little Lu?”

“Is that his name?”

There’s an extra spring in Huang Shaotian’s step as he explains. “Yeah, yeah, Lu Hanwen. You’ll understand when you see him play. He’s amazing. And fast! So, so fast. He’s still green and doesn’t always make the best judgement calls but he has plenty of time to learn. He’ll take over Troubling Rain one day.”

It’s a good thing Yu Wenzhou turned down the can of iced coffee Huang Shaotian offered him earlier, because he might have spit it out all over himself. How embarrassing. 

Huang Shaotian? Give up Troubling Rain? 

Everyone, even Yu Wenzhou, knows how much he adores that account card. There’s been more than one comment among the trainees that he’ll never find a wife because no one can live up to Troubling Rain. To hear him talk so casually about giving up his precious account is shocking. And yet more proof that this older Huang Shaotian is not the one Yu Wenzhou knows. 

The man walking beside him has grown from the training camp star into an adult with his own protege.

He’s always quietly had his reservations about Huang Shaotian’s maturity, wondering silently if his brand of loud egoism and irreverence would hold him back from ever being a true professional. Yu Wenzhou suddenly feels like he’s the one who doesn’t live up to expectations.

The thought is only reinforced by what comes next.

“Oh um, Wenzhou,” Huang Shaotian bites his lip and brings them to a halt before they can enter the training room. “About Hanwen. He really looks up to you. To both of us. I know you don’t know him yet, but don’t push him away, okay? This is hitting him hard.”

It’s hitting me hard, Yu Wenzhou doesn’t say. “Of course,” is what he says instead. “I’ll be gentle with your protege.”

Huang Shaotian looks at him strangely. “Our protege.”

For the second time, Yu Wenzhou is brought up short. The more he learns about this current time period, the more unbelievable it is. Not only is he Blue Rain’s captain, Swoksaar’s user, and apparently close friends with Huang Shaotian, but the two of them are raising up a pro player together. How deeply are their lives entangled? 

He doesn’t know what to say, so he settles for, “You know the team best. How should we play this?”

“Just be honest with them. They want to know you’re okay, they’re so worried. It isn’t just Little Lu who looks up to you, do you know that? They all do. You’re—well the older you—you’re their captain. One of Glory’s Four Master Tacticians. Which is just as cool as it sounds. You’re so smart at making plans. You create all the team’s tactics and you tailor it to each of us and our strengths and our skills and our weapons and whoever our opponent is. You do all that, it’s amazing.”

It’s a lot to take in, and not just the barrage of nonstop words. Yu Wenzhou has spent so much time studying everything about Glory down to the last detail, in a desperate effort to prove that he’s better than his slow hand speed, and all he’s gotten for it is ridicule when it still isn’t enough. How can it be that in the future (technically he supposes it’s the past but it feels like the future to him) he’s achieved everything he’s ever dreamed of?

He almost turns around and leaves, swept by another wave of helpless frustration. It’s not fair that he can’t remember. It’s not fair.

Instead, he mentally recites the player summaries Huang Shaotian gave him. Back in his room, he’d watched a couple of the videos Huang Shaotian gave him, between doing his own research on the internet and looking through his olders self’s notebooks, and it hammered home that whoever these people are, they’re a tight knit group that trusts their captain. 

Blue Rain is his team. 

His stomach turns as they walk the rest of the way to the training room, and it takes him a moment to realize it’s not just dread. The swoop in his guts is excitement. He has a team, one that accepts him rather than merely tolerates him. He wants to meet the people his older self surrounded himself with. Perhaps meeting them will help him understand what watching pre-recorded matches on a screen didn’t.

“Are you ready?” Huang Shaotian asks, shaking him from his thoughts. 

He isn’t, but if he let trivial things like that stop him, he’d still be living at home with his parents. 

“Yes.”

.

The room falls silent when they enter.

It lasts for the longest three seconds in Yu Wenzhou’s life and then the roar of multiple voices breaks over it. It’s impossible to pick out individual words with so many overlapping voices, but he hears a lot of “Captain,” and “feeling okay,” and “so young.” The last one in particular makes him want to turn around and leave.

He doesn’t.

“Captain! Captain!” A high pitched voice cries out.

Yu Wenzhou almost turns and looks for Captain Wei except before he can, he sees a short, skinny kid running up to him with so much enthusiasm Yu Wenzhou feels exhausted just looking at him.

The same kid from the hospital. Lu Hanwen, he remembers.

The kid stops short right in front of him and beams. “Wow you’re only a little older than me, this is so cool! Does this mean you won’t make me do homework anymore? Can we play Glory all day? You still like Glory, right Captain?”

Hushed whispers sweep across the room, and Yu Wenzhou notices several wide-eyed stares, like the thought that he might not like the same things as before is just occurring to the majority of them.

Yu Wenzhou breaks the silence with a warm laugh, the way he often sees Captain Wei do when tensions rise during training. His own laugh doesn’t sound nearly as raspy as the captain’s--his has softer, warmer edges--but it works just the same. The whispers die down and some of the fearful looks ease. Inwardly, Yu Wenzhou sighs in relief. 

“I still like Glory,” he confirms. “From my perspective, I was at Blue Rain this morning, so if I didn’t like to play, that would be a problem.”

It earns him a few laughs.

“You’re in training camp, right? I overheard Huang Shao talking to the doctor and that’s what he said. I bet you and Huang Shao were the best together back then.” A ripple of agreement sweeps over the team. “Will you tell us about it?”

“No!” Huang Shaotian’s refusal sounds more like a squeak, and Yu Wenzhou can’t quite hide the smile spreading over his lips. “No he will not! It was boring anyway, nothing to tell, nothing interesting at all.”

“Maybe later, Hanwen,” Yu Wenzhou says, once he’s confident he can speak without laughing. Who knew teasing Huang Shaotian could be so much fun? Has his older self discovered that yet?. He’ll write himself a note in one of his notebooks, just in case.

“I guess this means you’re going to win our wager,” a sedate voice breaks through the low din of voices.

Yu Wenzhou knows that voice, even though his face has aged. He’s happy to see his assumption in the infirmary was right. Zheng Xuan made the pro team.

“I was going to win it anyway,” Yu Wenzhou says back, relieved to be on known ground for the moment. 

He sees Huang Shaotian frown and maybe it’s petty of him but he’s enjoying this reversal of their roles. Ever since he woke up, it’s felt like Huang Shaotian knows him better than he knows himself. It’s nice to be the one in possession of information, for a change. Even if the information is trivial.

“Zheng Xuan made the mistake of wagering against me. We didn’t have anything to wager on at the time, so we bet on our careers.”

“You?” The person beside Zheng Xuan shoves at his shoulder. “You can barely be bothered to get out of bed in the morning and you’re making bets with the captain?”

Zheng Xuan shrugs. “He wasn’t the captain at the time.”

“You can’t leave it at that, tell us the rest.” the other player says. When he doesn’t get an answer, he turns to Yu Wenzhou. “What was the bet?” After a moment, he quickly adds, “Oh. Sorry, Captain. I’m Song Xiao.”

Yu Wenzhou humors him, mostly because he appreciates that he offered his name. “The wager was on who would have the longer professional career.”

Zheng Xuan groans. “Now that he’s seventeen again, there’s no way I can win.” 

A round of good natured mocking follows.

From beside him, Huang Shaotian cackles. “Zheng Xuan, Zheng Xuan, you should know better than that. With the captain’s hands, he’ll be playing until he’s fifty!”

Automatically, Yu Wenzou tenses. The reminder of his poor speed has always been a test of his will, of his ability to appear unaffected while his biggest weakness is dragged out into the open and mocked. Except this time, he’s reminded again that nothing here is what he’s used to.

The laughter is friendly and the words that reach his ears are about his intelligence and his tactics. There isn’t a single derogatory comment. He can feel the warmth of Huang Shaotian as he steps closer and says, “My fault, my fault, I didn’t mean to bring up your hand speed, I know I’m the last person you want to hear that from.” Miraculously, his voice is soft enough for only Yu Wenzhou to hear.

“It’s okay,” he says back just as softly. Huang Shaotian nods at him like an eager puppy. Despite their age gap, Yu Wenzhou is tempted to pat him on the head.

“Captain,” Zheng Xuan adds, once the latest wave of laughter has settled. “We’re all happy to see that you’re alright.”

“Even if you’re younger than us, now!” a different voice calls out.

“Still not younger than Hanwen,” Song Xiao calls out, and the laughter starts up again.

It doesn’t take long before the room descends into chaos once more. Despite everyone’s high spirits, there's a tangible thread of concern and relief beneath the laughter. It doesn’t escape Yu Wenzhou that most of the team is standing a little too close to each other, as if their first instinct was to stick together to ride out the waves of this particular storm.

Warmth fills Yu Wenzhou’s chest at the sight of them. Blue Rain isn’t just a team. It’s a family.

“Captain? Are you still going to play?” A player that Yu Wenzhou doesn’t recognize steps forward from the back of the group.

“It’s a little early for that kind of question, Lin Feng.” Huang Shaotian shoots back.

Lin Feng, thief, practical and straightforward. Huang Shaotian had given him a helpful summary, albeit with a lot more words than that.

Inwardly, Yu Wenzhou is grateful to Huang Shaotian for deliberately giving him the name of the person who addressed him. There wasn’t time to go over individual photographs and he hates flying blind. He wonders if Huang Shaotian knows that, too. He thinks he already knows the answer.

“I don’t know,” Yu Wenzhou replies, before anyone else can echo the question. “Huang Shaotian and I are still discussing logistics. We’ll keep you informed.”

There are a bunch more questions that he can’t answer but he tries his best. Mostly, the team seems relieved to have him back, even if he’s not the captain they’re used to heaving around. He sticks around to talk to everyone individually, getting to know each of them in turn. It’s a little strange that they all treat him like he’s still their captain despite his age but he has time to puzzle it out later. 

He’s in the middle of talking to Xu Jingxi about music when Huang Shaotian comes up to him. “Blue River got back to me. I’m heading down to the guild. You coming?”

Yu Wenzhou nods and follows him, hopefully towards some answers.

[knamjooned]

Frosty Seduction

pairing: WinterSpirit!Namjoon x Human!reader genre: Fantasy AU, Christmas AU, Smut, Crack, Fluff. tiny bit of Angst words: 16K+ warning: making out, flirting, oral (m and f), fingering, cold (ice?) play, light dirty talk, masturbation, semi-public sex, making love, creampie, 

author’s notes: hey so this has been in the works for a long time! I want to thanks @uwugalore​ for accepting me into my first collaboration. i met some awesome writers. also, i have never been this invested in a story as this one. usually i just write and then post, but this one was beta’d AND edited, so that’s ....a big change lol. I hope you enjoy it!

part of the 25 Days of BTS Christmas collaboration

Summary: You want to spend this Christmas enjoying the moment without stress. You find a beautiful snowglobe that may lead you to your wish being granted by a mischievous winter spirit.

If kisses were snowflakes, I’d send you a blizzard.

Everything about the holiday season made you feel good, like everything was alright in the world. Strings of lights glowing brightly in the evening as the sun went down; the smell of delicious treats wafting all around you; the taste of a peppermint hot mocha on your tongue; the sounds of Christmas music playing in various shops. Your favorite part was wrapping the presents you would exchange on Christmas morning with your family and your boyfriend’s family, your heart filled with love as they got a look at what you hoped was the best gift ever.

Unfortunately, this year seemed to have taken a wrong turn and landed you in the opposite mood you usually felt at this time of year. Christmas Eve was only a week away. The only thing you had in your apartment was a decorated Christmas tree. You had finished it while your boyfriend still wanted to be with you at the beginning of the month. A few days after that, he apologetically stated that he wasn't ‘feeling it anymore’ and you hadn’t heard from him since. That spurred on a case of the holiday blues, so you hadn’t been in the mood to put up your beloved decorations.

It didn’t help that your family was out of the country, enjoying a tropical vacation your parents had won at a bingo game. Your sister and her husband had gone with them, a late honeymoon they said. Unfortunately, you couldn’t afford to tag along with your income, so it also turned out you didn’t have family to comfort you through all of this. Still, that didn’t mean you couldn’t try to finish your usual routine of wrapping presents.

That’s what led you to this new antique store on the other side of town. Your mother and sister both enjoyed old jewelry, postcards, and first edition books, while your father was a fan of collecting old pens and silverware. This new shop seemed to be a treasure trove of gifts you knew your family would love. You might even be able to find a gift for your brother-in-law, although you weren’t entirely sure what exactly he’d like from here.

After spending more time than you thought you would, wandering through the aisles, you had found at least two gifts per family member and were on your way to the checkout counter. As the bell rang over the door to signal more customers, you looked toward the sound and were distracted by an item sitting among christmas tree ornaments. You changed your direction and ended up next to the table, crouched down, studying the inside of the snowglobe. 

It was a lovely setting, a picturesque winter wonderland, with a few generic one-story homes, a park area, a street, and some kind of store. The small figurines scattered across the scene depicted a happy family sledding in the park, a young couple decorating a christmas tree in one of the yards, and a young man leaning against the wall of the shop. The bell over the door ringing pulled you out of your thoughts, and you glanced over to see a young woman with a toddler in her arms, asking if there was a bathroom. You felt a soft smile pull at your lips as you turned back toward the snowglobe.

Frowning, you stared at the scene in front of you. Something was different, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. You looked over the setting, then the figurines in the fake snow. It hit you after a moment of staring at the shop. The figurine of the young man you were sure was there before wasn’t there now. Standing up quickly, you swallowed down panicked thoughts. After a moment of taking deep breaths, you let out a quiet chuckle. All this stress was going to make you lose your mind if you weren’t careful.

Without another thought, you picked up the snowglobe and purchased it with your other items. This little gift was for yourself.

It wasn’t until two days later you found time to wrap the gifts you bought for your family. After a long eight hour day at your temporary customer service holiday job, the idea of sitting down with a cup of hot chocolate, with soft Christmas tunes playing in the background, was the only thing keeping you from passing out from exhaustion. You sat near your window, on a pillow, a video of a fireplace on your television. The only lights were those on the Christmas tree and a handful of candles on your coffee table, along with street lights shining through your window. 

Six different kinds of wrapping paper sat next to you on the floor, along with a pile of tape you seemed to always have lying around. The gifts were laid out next to the tape pile. On the coffee table next to the candles was the snowglobe you had purchased. As you carefully wrapped each item and sipped at your hot beverage, you found yourself glancing toward coffee table. Nothing seemed out of place in the globe, although you felt silly even thinking about it. Even as you chuckle to yourself, placing the last piece of tape on the second gift, you saw something shift out of the corner of your eye.

Immediately, your gaze fell onto the snowglobe, eyes wide as you waited for something to happen again. Slowly, you sat down the wrapped present, and crawled toward the globe on the coffee table. When you were only inches away, with it eye level, you stared into the glass. Something was off once again, and it only took you a second to pick out it out. The young man who had disappeared from in front of the shop had appeared, sitting on the bench in the park, looking upwards. You scrabbled back, gasping as you fell on your ass, almost making a mess of your carefully arranged wrapping station.

“I need a drink.” Blowing out a big breath, you stood and made your way toward the kitchen. As you passed the window, you saw a shooting star. You stopped and turned for a moment, looking out the window and up at the sky.

“I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight. I wish my Christmas will be stress free for 24 hours with someone who enjoys Christmas as much as me.” With a wistful sigh, you turn away from the window and head toward the kitchen once again, where you knew you’d find one of your favorite cocktail ingredients.

Ever since the snow globe had been brought into your home, Namjoon had been fascinated. You seemed to be having a difficult time, which was unfortunate during the holidays. Finally, though, he saw you start to become much more cheerful. It made his frosty heart warm when he saw you smile as you wrapped the gifts. Because of the magical aura surrounding the snow globe, Namjoon knew there were four full days until Christmas Eve. He amused himself by sitting on the bench in the park, watching you wrap with purpose. You stuck out the tip of your tongue as you concentrated at making just the right crease. 

Without thinking anything of it, Namjoon looked up, feeling the magic of falling stars coming close. Tonight was a special night, apparently. When he heard you moving toward the globe, he froze in place, looking up at the curvature of the glass, as you studied the scene. He felt your eyes on him, trying not to laugh as you scrambled back and your butt hit the floor. Only when you were distracted by the star finally falling did he relax and look toward you once more. He stood and walked close to the glass, close enough to touch it, and listened to you speak to the star. As you finished your wish, he felt his heart grow warmer than it had ever been.

Namjoon knew, without a doubt, it was his job to make your wish come true. He ran toward the shop, bursting through the plastic door that was made to look like wood, startling the short, stout shopkeeper. Namjoon sheepishly grinned as the elder elf jumped at the sound of the door opening, hitting his head on the shelf above the one he was stocking with Christmas decorations. Grumbling to himself, the shopkeeper rubbed the top of his head as he shuffled toward the winter spirit.

“Santa’s Bells, Namjoon, you scared me! What has you up in a tizzy,” Sowon huffed, wincing as he came to stand near the counter. He was two feet shorter than Namjoon, with a bushy white beard, pointed ears, and wire-framed glasses on his nose. The spot he was rubbing on his head was bald, although bright red now.

“I want to decorate the park.” The old elf stared up at him, blinking his eyes. After a long moment, Sowon frowned, arms crossed in front of him.

“What,” he asked, confused. “What do you mean, decorate the park? We don’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“We don’t. This place... it’s the way it is.”

“Okay. I hear you. But what if… we decorate the park,” Namjoon insisted, gesturing toward the decorations that lined the shop shelves. In all the time he’s been here, nothing left the shelves. It was part of the curse of being in the snow globe - nothing changed. Now, though, he had a purpose, a reason to change the status quo.

Sowon stared at him a few seconds longer, eyes narrowing as he studied him. Namjoon felt the judgement rolling over him, his excitement over his plan declining with each passing moment. His upturned lips slowly fell into a frown, his shoulders slumping. Sowon let out a sigh, a sympathetic look in his eyes.

“Look, young spirit, I understand. But, the gods have put us here for a reason. We need to fulfill our duties, serve our penalty.” He reached up and patting Namjoon on his arm. “This is what we are, what we have.”

Dejected, Namjoon sighed heavily as Sowon shuffled away, moving toward another shelf to restock for no other reason than routine. While the elder elf was busy, though, Namjoon’s lips slid upward in a smile once again. A plan worked in his mind, and he quickly acted on it. He made his footsteps silent with what little magic he had, grabbed a large container of tinsel and round ornaments, and scrambled away.

Sowon sputtered and called out his name as he ran out the door, eyes wide with shock.

Retail work during the holidays was made for those who had strong wills. Unfortunately, you were hanging on by a thread by the time you made it home after a long seven hour shift. The day had been filled with nothing but stressers: children running around screaming, parents acting like the world would end if they didn’t get that toy, and a sleazy coworker who hadn’t stopped bitching about Christmas the whole time. 

When you entered your residence, you let out a groan of frustration as you slumped onto your couch. You went limp, letting the cushions support your aching body. You looked toward the snowglobe on your coffee table tiredly, ready to fall asleep right where you were. You stared at the area where the park was put, the tiny, coloring round ornaments making the scene more festive. You narrowed your eyes as you remembered….

The trees hadn’t had any ornaments this morning.

“What the fuck,” you cried, putting the palms of your hands against your eyes. “The universe really wants to screw with my head!” 

You forced yourself to stand from the comfortable couch, knowing you needed a shower. It would help wash away the aches and pains of your day, along with giving you time to rationalize the difference in scenery once again in the snowglobe.

Namjoon grinned with glee as he looked over the trees in the park across the street from his house. He held onto a mug of hot apple cider, imagining how you’d react to the new development. Absentmindedly, he sipped at his drink, then flinched, making a face. Using his ice cold breath, he blew on it lightly, hoping to cool it enough to be able to drink. He took another sip and sighed, wrinkling his nose. It was cold now, which didn’t taste as good. Still, he drank it, not wanting to waste the magic he had used to make this. As he stared out the window, he heard the bells on his christmas tree jingle in a gentle breeze. Frowning, he turned, knowing it hadn’t come from outside. When Namjoon saw who it was, he gulped and put down his mug on the window sill. 

Straightening his back, he bowed his head slightly, then kept his eyes down. Namjoon had already gotten on their bad sides, pissing off the winter god today wasn’t on his list of things to do.

“Uh… hey, Boreas, how’s it going?” He tried to keep his tone light, but Namjoon knew it was a serious issue when the personification of winter appeared to him. He licked his lips nervously.

“You know why I’m here,” he responded, his gruff voice sounding tired. The personification looked like what the humans would call Old Man Winter. He was a mix between Santa Claus and Dumbledore, with long white hair and beard. 

“Is this about the park decorations,” Namjoon asked innocently. Still, he didn’t look Boreas in the eye. 

“You can’t just change the snowglobe. The human thinks she is losing her mind, Namjoon.” Boreas took a step toward him, and he lifted his eyes finally. He was surprised to see the god with a tiny smile on his lips. Namjoon’s mood perked up.

“But…? There’s a but, isn’t there.” Namjoon felt a smile coming out his lips. Boreas pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes and letting out an annoyed sigh. He chuckled, though, as he looked back toward Namjoon. 

“You’ve been a good spirit, serving your time well, without incident.” Namjoon shifted bashfully on his feet, looking pleased. Did this mean he was done? Boreas seemed to read his mind, continuing. “Because of the seriousness of your crimes, your time has not been considered completely served. But, it seems the Fates have found this situation to be amusing.”

“Okay… what does that mean?” Namjoon started to lose his patience, waiting for the old man to tell him what the hell was happening now.

“This human, it seems, made a wish the Fates think you can help grant.”

Namjoon blinked, frowning for a moment. A wish? His eyes widened and his mouth opened in surprise as he remembered the wish you had made at the window two days ago. A huge smile come to his lips, realizing his instincts had been right.

The first major snow of the season fell heavily outside your window. Snuggled deep into your bed, with a heavy blanket and freshly washed pillows, you dozed comfortably.

You sat on a bench in a park, the trees decorated with spherical ornaments and strings of lights. The sweater you were wearing was knitted, with an overexaggerated face of a reindeer on the front. Your feet were warm in snow boots, with jeans tucked into them. Your dream outfit was exactly what you would wear during the holidays.

Beside you sat a figure. You felt their eyes on your face. Turning your head to the side, you caught their gaze, the plush lips pulling into a smile, revealing deep dimples, one on each cheek. His skin had a blue tint to it, almost like he was perpetually cold. You felt yourself smiling back, heart beating fast and butterflies fluttering in your stomach. It had been a while since you felt the emotions of a new romance.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it? I did it for you.” His voice was almost sheepish and unsure. His eyes flitted away nervously as he played with his own fingers. 

“It is. I love it. Thank you,” you assured him, reaching out and putting a hand on top of his clasped ones. His skin was chilled, but it didn’t bother you at all. You squeezed his hand. “I needed to see the beauty of the holidays, the love and happiness I haven’t been feeling lately.”

“I know,” he replied, frowning. He unclasped his hands and turned one palm up. You intertwined your fingers, holding his hand. His gentle grip seemed to lift some of the darkness inside your mind, helping the holiday cheer slide into its spot. “I’m sorry you’re feeling so sad. The holidays were your favorite time of the year, but then all this sorrow was brought about.”

“I don’t want to think about that, not here, not now. Tell me, what’s your name? Why are you here? Why am I here?” Your hand was still within his, and you had no desire to release it. This dreamworld was almost perfect, this blue-tinted man smiling beautifully at you. His eyes brightened at your requests. He leaned forward, his face close to yours.

“I’m Namjoon, a winter spirit. This is my home. And I think you’re here because the Fates know you need some cheering up. And I’m the one who will do it the best.” He shrugged, his words confident. His voice lowered, his cool, minty breath playing over your cheeks. “Anything you want, you can have it.”

You stared into his light blue eyes, shining with amusement. You knew, instinctively, that his words were true. Anything you wanted, Namjoon would give it to you. After a long moment of staring, he leaned closer still and brushed his lips against yours. When he pulled back, the his smile had turned into an ‘o’ of surprise, eyes wide. You licked your lips and leaned forward for another kiss, his pull too strong to resist. He straightened, shyly pulling away, let out a nervous chuckle, and let go of your hand.

“Namjoon?”

“Bora is coming with her sled, see, over there?” Namjoon pointed to a spot behind you, and you turned your body to look. 

A family was coming towards you, a young girl dragging an old wood and metal sled. She marched happily a few steps in front of her parents. The woman waved toward Namjoon, and he responded with a flick of his wrist. The man nodded with a smile, and Namjoon repeated the gesture back. The family ignored you and started to get ready to use the sled.

You turned back to him, knowing the intimate moment was broken. Still, you grinned at him, happy to be in his presence, pleased to have his bright eyes looking at you like you were the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. 

“It’s time for you to go,” Namjoon sighed, his grin falling into a pout. “I’ll see you soon, though, I promise.” Hesitantly, he lifted his hand toward your face. You leaned forward, silently giving him permission to touch you. Namjoon cupped your cheek, his hands ice cold but not unpleasant. “I shouldn’t have done that, I’m sorry.”

Before you could respond, he pulled back and your eyes closed slowly.

When you faded from the bench, Namjoon let out a heavy sigh, squeezing his eyes shut. He slouched on the bench, leaning back and let his head fall back. He knew if he opened his eyes, he’d see the curvature of the globe, but he didn’t want to be reminded of his prison at the moment. The laughter of Bora and her family was normal, but the pounding in his ears was not. His heart was echoing in his head, his mind unable to erase the feeling of your lips against his. They were warm, a strange feeling against his own lips. He wanted to feel them again, the heat once more.

“Fudge,” he murmured, eyes finally opening. He stood up and walked past the family, who sent him a wave. He didn’t see them, too focused on what had happened to wave back. Namjoon entered his home, absentmindedly wandered to the couch in front of the fireplace, and stared into the magical flames.

Why are you here?

Namjoon swallowed as he suddenly felt shame for his actions. It had been a long time ago, although not long enough for a god to forget. He had moved forward, understanding the reasons why he was here. Namjoon understood the effect his past actions had on humans, and he felt regretful of the outcome. He had never felt shame before, though. He didn’t want you to be disappointed when you found out, which was a weird thought in itself.

When he was an even younger winter spirit, he enjoyed fluttering around with his brethren, the famous Frost family, helping Boreas bring in the winter season, making those intricate designs on windows out of frost for those who loved them. Being second to the Frost family in terms of Boreas’ favor, though, had always been a point of bitterness between the other winter beings. 

To prove he was good enough to be on the same level as Jack Frost, Namjoon had decided to go off on his own and bring holiday cheer to a nearby town. Unfortunately, his own confidence had wrought his own hubris: causing his powers to inflate to the point of being uncontrollable. 

“Nope,” he murmurs to himself, jumping up. “Can’t think about that. Hot chocolate? Hot chocolate! That’s what I’ll do. Hot chocolate and reading!”

He scurried toward his kitchen, almost like he was running from something. And, in a way, he was.

The morning of the day before Christmas Eve, you talked to your vacationing family through video chat, putting on a large smile and waving away any concerns they might have had. You wore your favorite sweater, red with Santa’s face on it, and showed off your Christmas tree. You also teased the gifts you had placed under the tree, which they would open in a few days after they got back. You started your morning in a relatively good mood, the dream from the night before causing you to laugh at yourself, but speaking with your family reminded you how alone you were at this moment.

Taking a deep breath, you placed your phone on the coffee table, picked up the snowglobe in your hands, and sat on the couch. You looked into the globe, shaking it, then watching the fake snow fall onto the cheerful scenery. You had been in the park of the globe in your dream, the little family sledding appearing as well. The bench you had sat on was empty, not that you were expecting anything to be there. It was almost hypnotizing, the fake white flakes falling slowly, soothing the clouds in your mind. 

You forced yourself to leave your apartment during the day. Many shops were closed, but you knew of one place that was always open: the local shelter. You enjoyed visiting from time to time, especially during the holidays, where you would have pleasant conversations and stories with the residents. You arrived and started to undo all of your snow gear, scarf, hat, gloves, coat, and even your sweater. The building was toasty warm.

“Oh, it’s Miss Holiday Cheer, herself!” shouted a man in the corner, near the decorated tree, who you recognized as a regular. He was a struggling widower, who had trouble with alcohol until about three years ago. He had lived here for a time, and now came by to keep the current residents hopeful.

“Good afternoon, Nelson. You’re looking handsome, today.” 

You spent a couple hours there, the gray skies inside your head dissipating little by little. The sun was sinking below the horizon as you entered your apartment once again. The intense feeling of loneliness beared down on your shoulders, making you groan. You took a deep breath and blew it out, like you were blowing away the heaviness, and went to get yourself a drink. Settling on the couch with your favorite alcoholic beverage, you found yourself looking into the snowglobe in front of you, the fake snow falling as if it had just been shaken. 

“Merry Christmas,” you murmur, lifting your glass up before taking a drink.

A clock chimed in the back of your dreams, officially starting Christmas Eve. One. Two. Three…. It was almost too quiet to hear, but the clock stopped making any sound after the twelfth chime. You stayed in your dream world as snow began to fall on your covered body. If you had been awake, you would have noticed it was not cold, but simple plastic that lightly floated down. 

The room filled with soft blue light, the fake snow falling without leaving a trace on the floor. It became heavier and heavier, until nothing could be seen in your room.

Blinking quickly, you sat up, confused, as you turned your head this way and that. It took a moment to recognize the trees covered in ornaments and lights. The last time you had seen them, it had been a sunny, beautiful day. Now, though, it was dark, the only light coming from the streetlights that followed the road toward a handful of houses. You realized your butt was on something hard. Looking down, you were once again on the bench. 

“Back in the dream,” you murmured to yourself, patting the wood. When you heard snow crunching, you turned to look behind you. Grinning, you held up a hand, waving toward Namjoon.

“You’re here! Actually here! This is fantastic.” He jogged throw the snow without any hesitation, stopping in front of you with his hand held out. His skin was blue-tinted, just like the other dream, but his cheeks had a tinge of purple. He almost looked flushed. “Come with me. I promise to make your wish come true.”

As you took his hand, you realized you were in your pajamas, blue and white snowflakes all over the cotton long sleeved top and bottom pants. Last time you were here, you had been decked out in all the holiday swag, ugly sweater and all. Now, though, it seemed your mind went completely casual. Namjoon tugged at your arm, happily gesturing his head toward the rows of houses down the street. You let him lead you toward them, running up the steps and into the second house. His hand stayed clasped around yours as he closed the door behind both of you. 

“So, this is your place, Namjoon,” you asked, glancing around as you pulled your hand away. 

You spun in a circle slowly. It had a cozy cabin feel to the inside, with a small living room and kitchen attached, with a set of stairs in the far corner that led up to what you assumed was a loft. You were going to comment on the scenery, but you remembered something he had said before you followed him here. “My wish?” 

You turned toward him once again.

“Yeah, you’re wish.” 

He seemed a little nervous, with his hands in the pocket of his jeans. He glanced around before his gaze landed back onto you. He sent you a crooked, bashful smile. “You wanted to spend Christmas Eve stress free, with someone who loves Christmas as much as you.”

You opened your mouth to say something, but then you shut it. How did he know? This was a dream, though, so it made a little bit of sense. Your mind giving you what you wanted, maybe? You stepped closer to Namjoon, catching his gaze and putting a hand on his arm. He sent you a relieved smile and lifted his other arm, palm up. As you watched with wide eyes, a frosty mist swirled above his palm, the ice crystals hardening into a shape. When he was finished, Namjoon raised the ice rose to face level.

“Will you allow me to share Christmas Eve with you?”

He waited patiently, his dimples framing a small smile. You slid your hand down his arm, keeping your eyes on his, and took his hand. The small smile turned into a large grin as you used your other hand to take the ice rose from his. The stem was cold to your touch, but it didn’t bother you. Surprisingly, a rose-liked scent wafted from the petals. 

“I think I’d like that,” you replied in a low voice, mirroring his grin.

Namjoon could barely breathe, the excitement of you consenting to staying with him for twenty-four hours almost overwhelming. He wanted to press a kiss onto your lips as soon as you said it, but held himself back. After telling you the ice rose wouldn’t melt without him doing it himself, you sat it down on a small table in front of a fireplace. He wanted to show you the wardrobe room, so he pulled you up the stairs and into the loft. There was a door on the back wall, in the middle, and he flung it open, spreading his arms proudly.

“Anything you want to wear, it’s here. It’s magic. Think it, and it’ll appear. Would you like to change?” Namjoon looked over your adorable outfit. He didn’t care what you wore, you were a beautiful human, but he wanted you to be comfortable with him.

“Really,” you asked, eyebrows raised. “Anything?”

“Absolutely.”

He stood at the door as he watched you stride into the room. It was bigger on the inside, with clothes hanging on either side of you. Crossing his arms, Namjoon leaned against the doorframe as you fluttered around the room. You looked so excited, with a giddy grin and a bounce in your step. What would you pick? Namjoon was curious, but was completely surprised when you stopped in the middle of the room and closed your eyes. Frowning, he took a step forward, but saw the clothing you were wearing started to glow.

A red velvet dress appeared on your body, the skirt ending above your knees. The edges of the garment had white puffy material, and your collarbones showed pleasantly. A santa hat appeared on your head, and black heeled boots appeared on your legs, stopped at the knees.

“What do you think? Fits the season, right?” 

You posed, turning back and forth, looking down at yourself.

“It’s stunning,” he replied, his voice catching. He cleared his throat, feeling his body flush unusually. He felt the heat blooming from the top of his head down to his feet, and everywhere in between. His heart beat furiously, which seemed to be a common occurrence around you. 

“Cookies and hot chocolate? On the table downstairs, in front of the fireplace.” As he smiled, Namjoon used a thumb to gesture over his shoulder.

“Yes, please!” you cried, running past him and down the stairs. He followed, chuckling. As soon as you were both settled onto the couch, Namjoon positioned himself so he could look at you, turning his body so he sat sideways on the couch. You mirrored his pose, ignoring the treats on the table as you stared at him. 

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

“You’re kind of purple.”

“What?” 

Namjoon frowned, looking down at his hands. His blue-tinted skin had a tiny bit of pink mixed into it. “Huh. That’s never happened before.”

“You’re blushing. Do you like my outfit that much?” 

Namjoon looked back at you, smirking back at him. He swallowed thickly as the skirt of your dress slid up as you wiggled a bit on the couch. His eyes stayed on your exposed thighs as he spoke. 

“You seem very relaxed. Am I helping grant your wish?” Namjoon placed his hands on his knees, squeezing tightly, to keep from reaching out and caressing the soft skin of your legs. He couldn’t turn his gaze away, almost hoping the skirt would move upward further.

“Yes,” you murmured. He lifted his gaze to your face again.

“You’re really breathtaking,” he whispered, using your name. 

“Is it against the rules if I kiss you?” 

Your question made his breath catch and eyes widen. Namjoon shook his head slowly back and forth, but not really knowing the answer. He suddenly realized he’d do anything to be able to kiss you right now. “Okay, good, cause I’m going to kiss you.”

You leaned forward without hesitation, sure of what you wanted. This was a dream, anything could happen, right? Reaching out, you grabbed Namjoon’s sweater and brought him closer. Tilting your head, you kissed him. He responded immediately, a hand rising to cup your cheek as his lips moved. His other hand moved to your calf, slowly sliding upward. A sigh fell from your lips as Namjoon’s large, cool hand squeezed your thigh. His tongue brushed against your bottom lip, and you nipped at it. Namjoon pulled away with his eyebrows raised.

“It’s going to be like that,” he murmured, his thumb brushing against your kiss swollen lips. He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, then stood, taking his hands off you. You frowned and looked up to him, confused. His eyes had darkened and his playful grin had turned into a devious smirk. He reached out, and you left Namjoon position you so you were sitting forward on the couch, with your legs spread open. The short skirt left little to the imagination as he knelt between your legs.

“It’s going to be like that,” you repeated back in a teasing tone. 

Breathlessly, you reached down and held onto the hem of your dress. Namjoon stared into your eyes as you slowly pulled the material up your legs, exposing more of your thighs. It was almost a competition to see who would look away first. You stopped moving your skirt when it barely covered the apex of your thighs. Namjoon’s jaw flexed as he took a deep breath, eyes still on yours. 

“Is this a power thing?” He chuckled, each hand moving to your thighs. He splayed each hand on your thighs. Your body shivered with anticipation, his fingers so close to your intimate area. His voice lowered. “What do you want, angel? Do you want to fight for power? Or do you want to pick a side? Either way, I’m looking forward to playing with you.”

Biting your lip, you pulled the hem of your skirt up over your hips, showing off your exposed slit. Apparently, the materializing of this dress hadn’t brought about underwear. 

“Make my wish come true,” you whispered, eyelids fluttering close as Namjoon’s hand flexed on your skin.

“It’s all I want to do,” you heard him breath, his thumb rubbing circles now. The coolness from his skin caused goosebumps to appear all over your body, but it also made your clit begin to ache. When his lips touched your left thigh, you jumped, sucking in a breath. His hand tightened to keep your leg still as he pressed a few more kisses, then raked his teeth against your skin. “I want to taste you, every part of you, angel.”

“Yes,” you whimpered. You kept your eyes shut, enjoying the sensations of touch as his lips, teeth, and hands pressed against you. “Will you touch me? I want your fingers….”

“Be patient,” Namjoon chuckled, his breath only inches from your opening. Without realizing it, your thighs spread wider, opening you further in front of him. He groaned, gripping your thighs tightly. “Want my fingers where?” he asked, voice heavy with lust.

“Inside,” you replied hurriedly, eyes opening to look down at him. His skin was more purple than ever before, which confirmed he was as flushed and heated as you were. Your hem was fisted in your hand at your waist. “I really like your hands…”

“And I really like you.” He trailed his first finger up toward your opening, watching your face as he slowly rubbed against your opening. A yelp fell from your lips, the ice cold digit a surprise, although you should have known. He squeezed with his other hand, still holding your leg, and pressed a kissed right next to his hand. “Does the cold bother you?”

“No, it actually feels really good,” you gasped as he kept moving his finger from top to bottom. After a moment, he pressed a thumb against your clit, moving in a slow circle. One finger pressed against your opening, then slipped inside. Your slippery walls took him in without hesitation, causing you both to groan.

“Fuck, angel, you’re so warm… but you’re also trembling.” Pulling his finger out, you almost whimpered but stopped when he slid it back inside. Moaning, you threw your head back against the couch and reached out one hand to fall into his hair. His soft, short, brown hair tangled in your fingers as you squirmed under his scrutiny. Thighs shaking, you lifted your hips to match his slow rhythm. “Am I making you feel good? Is that why you’re shaking? Do my fingers feel good inside you?” As he said this, Namjoon slid another finger inside, stretching you further. His thumb continued to work your sensitive nub, arousal starting to leak from you. 

“Jesus, Namjoon,” you breathed, watching his lips turn into a smile. His eyes moved between his fingers working you and your face.

“I wonder what you’ll taste like? I have no doubt you are delicious.” He let his gaze drop to look lovingly at your opening, his fingers dipping down to the last knuckle and pulling out. He turned his hand and curled his fingers upward, causing you to cry out. Your eyelids closed, making you miss out on his face moving close. When his tongue replaced his thumb against your clit, you shudder and tugged at his hair. He wrapped his lips around your nub, a groan rumbling from his chest. Moving his fingers faster, Namjoon sucked slowly, pulling back to probe the opening above his fingers. Your thighs twitched, and he held down one with his hand and one with his shoulder.

A warmth began to spread in your lower stomach, with his tongue and fingers probing inside. You moaned and whimpered, lifting your hips. He continued his assault, moving his fingers faster, breathing in your scent. 

“Fuck, you taste so good,” he rasped, pulling his face back for oxygen. Namjoon’s tongue roamed over his own lips, licking up your juices. His voice made the warmth turned into a blaze, but the fire died down slightly when his fingers pulled out. He lifted his fingers to his lips, licking with his eyes closed, a delighted moan escaping.

“Why’d you stop?” Unable to stop the pout on your lips, you made to close your thighs. Namjoon chuckled and prevented the action with his broad shoulders. 

“You are so fucking adorable with your lip pushed out like that, angel.” He leaned forward once again and pressed his lips against your slit. Your hands gripped his hair once again as his tongue dove deep inside, plunging over and over. Shuddering, you cried out loudly. Namjoon slid his hands under your ass, bringing you even closer to his mouth. He devoured you, causing you to fall into a sobbing mess as the fire begin to rage hotter and hotter inside you. 

“Oh god, don’t stop,” you repeated helplessly, held down by his shoulders and arms. Your fingers stayed tangled in his hair, like you were afraid he’d pull away.

“Come on my tongue, angel,” he growled, voice muffled. His raspy voice build the fire to the perfect peak, causing you to shudder and buck your hips into his face. Namjoon gradually slowed the movement of his tongue. Whimpering, your whole body trembled, spent but still pulsing with electricity. He finally pulled back, breathing heavily, grinning up at you and licking his lips once more. “You look tired, darling, let’s rest.”

“W-what?” you stuttered as Namjoon stood and sat next to you on the couch. He scooped you up with his arms and settling you across his lap. Automatically, your arms went around his neck and your face buried into his neck. The coolness of his skin was welcomed against your heated forehead. He rubbed your back, lips pressed against your head, as your body stopped trembling and your mind cleared. 

“You’re going to ask about my own pleasure,” Namjoon stated after a few moments of comfortable silence. You smiled against the skin of his neck and nuzzled it with your nose. A soft hum of enjoyment came from his lips as he squeezed you in return. “We have many more hours, I’m definitely not concerned.”

Namjoon reluctantly stood with you in his arms a few minutes after you fell asleep, your breathing gentle and calm. He carried you up the stairs and onto the loft, where his large bed sat in the far corner. As he laid you down carefully, he licked his lips, your taste still lingering on his tongue. He bit his lip to keep from groaning loudly, focusing on tucking you into bed. He took your boots off, then made sure the blankets were surrounding you with shaking hands.

He walked away before he gave into temptation and slide into the bed with you. Sex wasn’t something that came often for him. Namjoon knew if you had gone further, he wouldn’t have lasted long.

He hurried down the stairs and sat on the couch, slouched with his hands over his face. Blowing out a breath, he pulled them away and cupped himself through his jeans. Closing his eyes, he rubbed himself, your face in his mind. Your mouth opened in pleasure, legs spread out before him, holding tightly to his hair, lifting your hips to give him as much access to your wet opening as he could get. Namjoon muffled a moan as he undid his pants and pulled out his cock. It was already aching, his dick hard and flushed blue-tinted purple as he gripped it in his fist. 

“Fuck, angel,” he murmured, furthering the memory into a fantasy of his own, where he stood, pulled his member out, and lined it at your entrance. You would be as breathless as he was now, with your trembling legs wrapping around his hips as he pressed forward. While he imagined this, Namjoon’s hand pumped his cock. He used his own leaking precum to lubricate himself. You’d be warm, slick, accepting him without hesitation. The way you responded to his mouth told him that.

Closing his eyes, Namjoon let his head fall back. His mouth fell open, breathing staggered, as the vision of you taking him completely, whimpering and clinging to him, brought him close to his release. It didn’t take long for him to furiously pump his cock, biting his lip and whining as he lifted his shirt out of the way. He imagined you crying out, milking his cock as he came. The warm spurt of his seed on his hand brought him out of his fantasy, trying to catch his breath. His ice blue semen ended up on his stomach, as well. Letting out a tired moan, Namjoon decided a shower was the best course of action.

Your first thought as you came out of sleep was how comfortable you were. On your side, you were wrapped up in a soft, thick blanket, one hand under your cheek and the other wrapped around your bed partner. You squeezed him, rubbing your face against his naked chest. It was cool to the touch, but it didn’t bother you. In fact, the touch of his skin on yours made an ache appear between your legs. You absent-mindedly placed a kiss on his chest, eyes still closed, and let out a soft sound of contentment. A well-muscled arm wrapped around you, splaying his hand on your back, and pulled you close.

You breathed in the scent of a fresh winter breeze as you opened your eyes, tilting your head up. Namjoon’s pale blue eyes met yours, a sleepy smirk on his lips. You blinked up at him, your mind trying to remember everything that had happened in the last six hours. He waited patiently, a sparkle in his eyes. Finally, a smile came to your lips. It wasn’t a dream. Wait, not a dream? I fell asleep… and now I’m awake… 

“Angel, what’s on your mind? The light in your eyes became a bit more dull,” Namjoon asked, frowning. He brought a hand up to cup your cheek. His large hand, cold but comforting, seemed extremely real, as did the memories of the sensations you had left hours earlier.

“Am I dreaming?” you quietly asked, holding his gaze.

“No. This is real. Magical, but real. And you have plenty of time to enjoy your Christmas Eve some more.” His hand left your cheek. Namjoon rolled onto his back, pulling you close. Your head ended up on his chest, with one leg thrown over his thighs. He played with the strands of your hair as he continued. “Look out the window, see the curvature of the glass?”

“What do you mean?” you asked, shifting only your eyes toward the window. Sunrays fell into the room through the curtains, hitting the floor. You saw a house a few yards away, and then the park. Two families were out, one familiar and one not, laughing and having fun throwing snowballs and sledding. The curtains blocked you from seeing anything definitively. 

“Oh, yeah, curtains.” Namjoon lifted his free hand and swiped his hand through the air. The curtains parted enough for you to see the events happening, as well as the trees. He pointed with the same hand, showing you something. “Above the trees, if you look at it just right, you can see the light of the sun bounce off the glass.”

You followed his finger, watching the spot curiously. After two seconds, you saw it. The light glinting off something round. Eyes widening, you sat up, the blanket falling off the top half of you, and looked down at Namjoon. He raised an eyebrow as he put his hands behind his head. For a moment, you were distracted by his broad shoulders, oddly tinted smooth skin, and almost defined abs. You blinked, making yourself focus on this new information.

“Snowglobe,” you stated, looking back out the window. “Wait… could you close the curtain? I don’t want them to see...”

“Sure,” Namjoon chuckled, lifted a hand to swipe the curtains closed, then putting it back under his head. “Yes, the snowglobe. We are in the item you purchased last week.”

“How?” You didn’t know what else to say, staring down at him beside you. He studied you for a moment, his eyes moving over your face, searching for something. Seemingly satisfied, he continued in a patient voice.

“Magic. I… was put here as a punishment for something I did a very long time ago, when I was still very young.” As he said it, you saw his eyes shift away. He bit his lip nervously, and you wondered what kind of things he did to be punished in something like this. You opened your mouth to ask, but he started to talk once more. “I wanted to one-up the Frost Family, to put it bluntly. My actions caused harm to humans indirectly.”

“Oh…” You reached out a hand and placed it on his chest. He moved a hand to rest on top of yours. “How long? Are you in here, I mean?”

“Aren’t you going to ask what I did?” He grinned with surprised amusement, furrowing his brow.

“Would you be comfortable telling me?”

“Not at the moment,” he stated, closing his eyes. A stuttering breath left his lips, causing your hand to rise and fall with his chest. After a moment, Namjoon opened his eyes. “I don’t want to cause your wish to be unfulfilled. No stress, remember?”

“Could you… can you see me through the sky?” You glanced toward the window once again. 

“Yes, but not often. The fates seem to decide when it’s appropriate. Anyway, it’s Christmas Eve Day! Sowon gives out delicious treats in the morning.” He stood from the bed and put his hands on his lean waist for a moment. In a moment, his dark blue sweatpants had changed to black jeans, and a long-sleeved sweater with Santa on the front appeared on his torso. He turned and held out his arms, showing off. “We should hurry before they’re all gone. Bora and the other kids might get there before us..”

“Can I do that? Like I did last night with the red dress?” You looked down and realized you were still wearing it. Namjoon nodded and beckoned you with two fingers. You pushed the blankets off your body and stood next to him.

“Close your eyes and imagine what you’d like to wear.” You did as he suggested. You felt his chilly hands wrap around yours, and you took a deep breath. 

Namjoon held your hand the whole walk to the store, where a short christmas elf stood just outside the door with a large tray in his hands. Four young children were bouncing around him, almost the same height, grinning. It was alarming how pleased he was with your outfit choice. You had chosen almost the exact same outfit, and Namjoon couldn’t help but think of the phrase couple’s outfit as you walked together. Your hand was warm and inviting, a touch he hadn’t felt… well, ever. He was extremely happy you kept your hand in his, squeezing when you wanted to show him something, or just swinging it playfully between the two of you. When the children and Sowon saw Namjoon and you walking toward them, Sowon stood tall - all four feet of him - and held the tray above his head.

“Ah, Namjoon! There you are! I was worried you weren’t going to make it this morning…” He trailed off as his eyes caught sight of your hands together. Raising his eyebrows, he looked questioningly at Namjoon. “That’s… I mean… you’re….”

“Yes, this is her.” Namjoon felt your steps slowing, so he tugged on your hand gentle, throwing a smile over his shoulder to reassure you. You walked a little faster, squeezing Namjoon’s hand with nervousness. You stared at Sowon, mouth open, surprised. 

“Elf. You’re an elf,” you state. The children giggle, and come up to you. They introduce themselves, lifting their hands to shake yours. Namjoon reluctantly let’s go of your hand for you to respond to their actions, stepping up beside Sowon as you introduce yourself to the kids. As you’re finding out all about them, Sowon leans a little closer to Namjoon.

“The human who bought this globe. Why is she here? And not during a dream?” he whispered, holding the tray tightly in his hands.

“Boreas visited me a few days ago.” That made Sowon turn his head completely to Namjoon, eyes wide with wonder. Namjoon glanced at him and then turned his gaze back to you. “I thought I was in trouble, too, but it seems the fates have decided to give me a task.”

“And what is this task?” he asked, still shocked about Boreas visiting him. He set the tray on a small table that was near the door.

“Make her wish come true.”

“Oh.” Apparently the Christmas elf didn’t know what else to say, so he turned back and tilted his head, studying you as the children waved goodbye. He lifted a hand to wave back, and the children ran off toward their own houses. Before he could ask anything else, you appeared in front of Namjoon and Sowon. “Hello, my dear, I am Sowon, the owner of this store. Yes, I am an elf, an elder, actually. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He said your name slowly, making sure he pronounced it correctly. You nodded politely and shook his hand.

“Namjoon told be about your treats. May I try one?” you asked, glancing at Namjoon. He flushed, embarrassed to be caught staring at you with a goofy grin on his face. Sowon held back a little smile as he saw Namjoon’s face. Namjoon silently cursed his blue skin being so obviously flushed purple. Sowon lifted the tray back up, allowing you to look over the treats.

“All of these are made by myself,” Sowon stated proudly. He began to point out each type. “We have peppermint patties, hot chocolate cookie cups, red velvet cookies with frosting, christmas bark, vanilla shortbread cookies, candy puffcorn, and ginger spice cookies.”

You tried a small bite of everything, offering a bite to Namjoon each time you took one. You gestured for him to open his mouth, and he did. You put each small portion of the treat into his mouth, eyes locked on his mouth. Each time, he resisted the urge to bite playfully at your fingers, wondering if they’d be sticky and sweet with the crumbs. With each treat, Namjoon felt a rare warmth spreading in his chest, and further down his body.

“I… think we’ve tried all of them,” he stuttered, clearing his throat. You turned to him, licking some sprinkles off your lips. He wondered if you knew what you were doing to him, teasing him with your pink tongue against the lips he wanted to kiss very much right at this moment. “Come with me,” he suddenly said, taking your hand and pulling you into the shop. Sowon blinked as Namjoon pulled you away, then shrugged, going about his business. He walked away, taking the rest of the treats with him like every morning, offering them around the tiny globe town.

Meanwhile, Namjoon pulled you across the store, knowing exactly where he was going. You followed curiously, not saying anything as he finally came to a stop in front of a door. He opened it and turned toward you.

“And now what?” you asked, chuckling with amusement. “Joon, your face is all purple. What’s on your mind?” You walked past him, into the little storage room. He followed, closing the door behind him. Now alone with you, Namjoon realized the name you had called him. A nickname, as if you were familiar with him, as if you were in a close relationship. He liked it.

“I really want to kiss you. I didn’t think doing it in front of Sowon would be polite.” He took a few steps toward you, then put his hands on your hips. You placed your hands on his arms and grinned up at him.

“You’re so considerate,” you reply, standing on your toes to brush your lips against his. Namjoon moaned gently, turning your body so your back was against the door. He pressed his body against you, so close you could feel his erection. You squeezed his biceps as his lips crash down onto yours. This kiss was much rougher than the kisses from before, all tongue and teeth, with Namjoon’s fingers diving into your hair to hold your head still.

“I’m sorry,” he rasped, pulling his lips from yours for breath. His body trembled. Namjoon flexed his hips so his dick rubbed against your stomach. “Should I stop? I don’t want to stop, but we’re in the store closet and -”

“Are you saying you want to fuck me in the closet, where someone might hear us through the door?”

The words that fell from your lips made your whole body heat with excitement. The chance of getting caught had never been something you’d wanted to try, but now that you were here, with Namjoon…. You licked your lips as you raised your eyebrows at him, waiting for his answer. His pupils were blown wide with desire, hands still in your hair. He placed his forehead against yours, your noses touching and his breath on your lips.

“I would fuck you any place you’d let me,” he murmured with a smirk, lips brushing against yours. You sucked in a breath as his hands fell from your hair and landed on your hips. “Hold tight.” You wrapped your arms around his neck as he lifted you, biting your lip to smother a squeak as your legs wrapped around his own waist. His clothed erection pressed directly against your clothed opening. You groaned, nuzzling his neck. “This isn’t the place to go slow and steady, angel. Let me get you off now and then we’ll head back home.”

“I think I want to get you off,” you teased, grinding yourself against him. You unhooked your legs around him and placed them on the floor. Namjoon let you turn your bodies until his back was on the door. Blinking, as if he wasn’t sure he heard you right, Namjoon stared at you as slowly slid to your knees. 

“You do remember this is about you, right, Angel?” Namjoon’s breath staggered as you began to undo the button on his jeans. He reached out and swiped some hair behind your ears as you pulled the zipper down. “Your wish, pleasing you.”

“I would be very pleased if you put your dick in my mouth, Joon,” you grinned. Namjoon growled a curse and let his hand fall to his side. As you pushed his jeans down over his hips, stopping just enough to pull his dick out, the main door to the store was heard opening. Namjoon froze, but you kept your eyes locked with his and wrapped your hand around his thick, hardening cock. He swallowed hard.

“Angel,” he whispered, hands fisted at his sides. He didn’t say anything else as he gazed down at you with heavy-lidded eyes. You turned your attention to his member in your hands, your fingers unable to curl completely around him. It was turning almost the color of lilac, the blue mixing with redness of blood that was flowing into it. You slowly slide your hand up, and then down.

“The skin is cool, but it’s also warm underneath,” you murmured, moving your hand a little faster. His dick was now completely hard, with a drop of icy blue precum at the top. Your eyes widened with interest. Namjoon sucked in a breath through his nose as your tongue came out to taste the small drop. 

“Fuck, angel, fuck,” he murmured, bringing his hand up to bite the knuckle of a finger. You saw his thighs shudder as your blew on the head of his dick. His cum had a cool flavor to it, almost like peppermint. You hummed your approval as you looked up at him, all the while moving your hand up and down his member. 

On the other side of the door, probably near the store counter, you both heard Sowon humming to himself. The shuffling of his feet, then the sound of a mop hitting the floor, told you he was cleaning up the shop at the moment. Your gaze moved back to his member as you licked against the head once more. His hips jerked as you took the tip into your mouth and sucked lightly, rolling your tongue against it. You let spit fall from your mouth as you tongued him, lubricating the shaft as you continued to pump with your hand.

As the humming and shuffling of Sowon came closer, you lowered your lips more and more onto Namjoon’s cock. One hand of his came to lay on the back of your head, the other still against his mouth. When the humming and sound of mopping was right next to the door, you took as much of his dick as you could, almost to the point of gagging. Namjoon shuddered as his hand pressed the back of your head gently, asking for you to go deeper. You did your best, only a couple of inches to go. His fingers tangled in your hair, hands trembling, as you swallowed and had to stop with an inch left. Cursing, Namjoon’s eyes closed and his hips jerked. That caused you to finally gag, and you pulled off his cock, a long strand of spit connecting his member and your mouth as you sucked in oxygen.

The sound of humming stopped a moment, causing both Namjoon and you to lock eyes, holding your breath. His lavender cock twitched, your hand holding it’s base. The link of spit broke as the humming started up once again. It stayed near the door, but that didn’t stop you from licking your lips and grinning. Namjoon’s hand fell from his mouth as his jaw tightened, both hands falling to your head.

“More, Angel,” he whispered harshly, eyes pleading. “Please,” he added, biting his lip as he guided you back toward his cock. You happily took him back inside your mouth, the tip hitting the back of your throat as Namjoon’s head fell back quietly against the door. A soft whimper came from his mouth as you bobbed your head, your tongue stroking as you moved. “Don’t stop,” he breathed, hand guiding your head gently. His hips bucked. The peppermint taste of his precum started to cover your tongue, telling you he was close.

You pulled back for air, fisting his cock and pumping it quickly. Namjoon lowered his eyes to you. His cock was right in front of your face, his hands cupping your head as you both locked eyes. His jaw twitched and a low hiss escaped him. You opened your mouth, settling it just under the tip of his dick, still stroking his member as Namjoon’s eyes widened. He struggled to keep his eyes open as his whole body shuddered, icy blue cum spurting from his cock and into your mouth. You kept your mouth opened as he finished, muffling his grunts with his lips tightly closed. His hips jerked once more, his cock jumping in your hand, as the last shot of cum landing on your tongue. You swallowed as he gasped for air, hands lowering from your head and falling to his sides.

You licked your lips, enjoying the strange taste of his release, as you stood. Shakily, you pressed yourself against him, wrapping your arms around Namjoon’s waist. His member was still out, pressed between the two of you, but you didn’t care as you held his trembling body. Namjoon’s head fell to your shoulder, and his arms circled you and squeezed. With his nose buried in your neck, you both held each other as your breathing slowly became normal once again. The noises of Sowon cleaning was still happening, but on the other side of the building.

“Did you like that?” Namjoon whispered against your skin, almost hesitantly. You chuckled pulled away so he would look at you. You cupped his cheek and brushed your nose against his. He waited patiently for the answer, looking almost worried. It was endearing.

“I loved it,” you murmured. He opened his mouth, and then pulled back, glancing away sheepishly. You pressed your hand against his cheek to get him to look at you again. “What?”

“I’ve...um. Never done that,” he admitted, pressing his forehead against yours with his eyes closed. You took a moment to think over his words. Did that mean he’d never done what he had last night, either? Does that mean he hasn’t done anything before?

“Wait, really? What about last night, with your mouth…” His eyes fluttered opened and his eyebrows lifted. “Never?”

“No,” he murmured, looking proud of himself. “Surprised? Did I do well?”

“Well?” You burst out laughing, kissing him quickly, then pulling away. He let you tuck his member back into his pants, and zip them back up, smirking. “More than well, eleven out of ten, can’t wait to do it more.”

“Same,” he agreed.

The movements of Sowon had ended moments ago. He could now be heard whistling as he unpacked items onto the shelves. Namjoon winked at you as he opened the door. You followed him out, closing the storage room door, and took his hand. Walking confidently, you passed Sowon at the counter, who looked up, perplexed. Sputtering, he tried to ask where you two had been, but Namjoon just waved and shouted a cheery goodbye, pulling you with him.

He dropped your hand a little ways from the store, stopped, and crouched on the sidewalk. You stopped beside him, frowning. A high he had never felt made it seem like electricity was buzzing around his whole body. Scooping up a handful of snow, he quickly made it into a ball and stood. Before you could realize what he was doing, he took a few steps forward and turned, throwing it at you. It hit your shoulder, breaking apart into powder. Your mouth opened in surprised, eyes shining with excitement. He feigned innocence, shrugging and jogging backward with a grin. Namjoon’s heart bounced as your surprised expression turned into a devilish smile. He couldn’t help think it was adorable, even as you scooped up a handful of snow and patted it into a ball, stalking toward him as he walked backwards with his hands up. You chucked it at him with a gleeful shrieked, and he took the hit, knowing full well he could have just sidestepped it. 

The snowball fight had started, and you spent a good half an hour tossing snowballs at each other as you made your way toward his home. You were both giggling and out of breath as you entered, the powdery faux snow covering your clothing. Namjoon shook his head, trying to get it out of his hair. It only got part of it out, so you stood on your toes and reached up, running your hand through it. Namjoon held back a groan as he did the same, pushing his fingers into your hair and shaking the strands to get the powder out of it. After a few moments, your breathing had returned to normal and the snow was mostly off of you.

“Hot chocolate?” he asked, pushing some hair behind your ear. 

“With peppermint?”

“Your favorite, I think,” he replied with a wink over his shoulder. You snorted, knowing exactly what he was talking about. You watched him wander into his kitchen and open a cabinet, pulling out two mugs, both christmas themed. You sat on the couch and he sat beside you, placing the mugs on the coffee table. You looked at the empty cups, then back at him. He bent close and kissed you quickly. “Magic. Remember?”

“Oh, right,” you laughed. Namjoon waved his hand over the mugs, and suddenly steam appeared over them. They were automatically filled with the creamy, sweet drink, a stick of peppermint against the side of the cup. “Thank you,” you said, reaching for your drink.

You both sat for a while in comfortable silence, enjoying the warm beverage, sipping quickly. You ended up leaning against him, knees up and feet on the edge of the cushion as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, holding you close. Your body felt heavy, the craziness of everything in the last twelve or so hours sneaking up on you. The sun shone inside through the windows, the sheer curtains floating in a non-existent breeze. Namjoon knew from the angle of the light it was almost lunch time.

“Do you need to eat?” you randomly asked, placing the empty cup on the table. He did the same with his, then pulled you back against his side. You yawned, although you didn’t feel too tired.

“Not necessarily,” he said slowly. “I suppose I’m immortal, especially being in here. I do enjoy food, though I’m not much of a cook. I guess I’ve counted on my magic to make delicious meals.” He chuckled, absentmindedly running his hand through your hair.

“I see. I do need to eat, though. I’m starving. What kind of food can you make with magic right now?”

It was mid-afternoon when you finished your lunch with an impromptu magic show. Namjoon had made a simple sandwich meal lunch appear, with your favorite sandwich and sides, which you specifically had asked for. After he was finished, and while you were still chewing, Namjoon decided to show off some of his special talents. First, he took the ice rose he had made you the night before - which was still on the table - and had it dissolve into ice dust, gently falling through the air and disappearing. Next, he created a dazzling display of sea creatures seemingly swimming in water, but it was made out of ice and ice dust in front of you.

Lastly, Namjoon snapped his fingers and decorated the whole house in christmas lights, blinking a peaceful rhythm, making you smile as the main lights turned off and the curtains closed. All that was on now was the small christmas lights, throwing colorful, dim light all around you. You felt Namjoon’s eyes on your as soft snow-like dust fell all around just you, disappearing before touching the floor. Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes and stretched. You hadn’t been this calm, this relaxed, in what seemed like forever. Opening your eyes, you saw Namjoon standing in front of you, eyes widened with curious wonder.

“What?” you asked softly, not wanting to break the beautiful spell all around you.

“Have I granted your wish?” he asked, just as softly. He licked his bottom lip, hands tucked into his jean pockets.

“Absolutely. Why do you ask? Everything is perfect.”

“Just making sure,” he replied, a smile pulling at his lips. Unfortunately, you saw that it didn’t reach his eyes. Your chest started to ache, although you weren’t entirely sure why. The thought of Namjoon not being happy, like usual, made you sad. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked, frowning as you reached up to cup his face. He placed a hand on your hand on his cheek, the sadness in his eyes disappearing. His grin lit up his face once more. 

“Just thinking how beautiful you are, Angel.” His eyes started to sparkle with mischief. He turned his head and placed a kiss on your palm, and then moved your hand to his mouth, kissing each fingertip. The soft brush of his lips caused butterflies to flutter in your stomach, plus a warm ache between your legs. His teeth nipped at the tip of your thumb, then his tongue came out to slide over your finger. You breath caught in your throat as you watched his plump lips take the tip of your thumb into his mouth, sucking gently. 

“J-Joon,” you stuttered, the warmth building to a blaze. 

“I like that,” he murmured against your hand, moving his mouth back to your palm, kissing it gently. Finally, he let your hand fall as he cupped both of your cheeks with his hands, stepping closer. “That nickname. It makes it feel like we’re close… in a close relationship.”

“I think we are,” you murmur as his face comes closer. The dim Christmas lights are still lit up around you, but the blinking rhythm had stopped. His nose brushed against yours. “I want to be close to you.”

He only answered with a hum, then his lips fall upon yours. This kiss was different. It was slow and languid, like he was memorize your taste. You sighed against his lips, and his tongue entered your mouth without hesitation. Tilting your head, you opened your mouth and tangled your tongue with his. His arms went around you, holding you tightly against him. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he lifted, hands holding your ass as your legs went around him. As you continued to kiss, he walked effortlessly up the stairs toward the bed on the loft.

Slowly, gently, Namjoon set you upon the sheets, and laid next to you. On his side, he cradled your head in the crook of his arm as you got comfortable with it under your neck. He brushed your hair off your face and looked down at you. Yawning, you stared up at him, not wanting to break whatever magic that surrounded you two.

How many hours did he have left? Seven, six? It didn’t seem like enough time, to be honest, but there was nothing he could do. The fates had done this, let him bring you here, let him feel things he hadn’t ever felt before. He could chalk it up to magic, but what would happen when you left? Would he forget? Would the feelings go away? Would he remember? His heart aching to feel these wonderful feelings again? His thoughts must have shown on his face, because suddenly you frowned. Shit, he hadn’t meant to make you sad. He leaned down and placed a kiss on your forehead.

“Take a rest. You’re going to need it tonight.” He winked at you and stood. You propped yourself up by the elbows, raising an eyebrow curiously.

“What if I’m not tired?”

“Then you don’t have to rest.” You stared at him, and Namjoon stared back, a small smirk on his lips.

“You didn’t enchant me with sleep magic, did you?” you yawned, falling back onto the bed. You turned to your side and snuggled deeper into the blankets. Namjoon lifted a hand and magically  moved the blankets to tuck around you comfortably.

“No,” he chuckled. “You’ve been through a lot in the past 18 hours. Your body is probably overwhelmed, even if your mind isn’t.” 

“Fuck, you’re right,” you replied with a sigh. You closed your eyes, letting the bed cradle you into a gentle sleep. Namjoon watched you from the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest. He sighed heavily, then turned away, going downstairs. Namjoon found an ipad-looking item, sat on the couch, and stared at the black screen. After a long moment, Namjoon swallowed and straightened his back, steeling himself against the anxiety settling into his stomach.

With a press of a side button, Namjoon turned on the magic tablet, then pressed on the screen. He selected the icon to call the one who represented him so long ago during his trial. After a few tinkles of bells sounding, the face appeared. It didn’t look any different from the last time Namjoon had seen him, with a large grin and blue-tinted skin. 

“Namjoon! Wow, it’s been… well, a long time. How are you? What are you calling me for? You didn’t get into trouble, did you?” He cocked his head and raised his eyebrows. Namjoon chuckled and shook his head.

“No, Hoseok, I didn’t get into trouble. But… I do have a request. I need your help.” The dark-haired man opened his mouth, then closed it, mulling over Namjoon’s words. Leaning back in the desk chair he was sitting in, a small smirk came to his lips.

“Interesting. Tell me what you need, and I can tell you what I can do.”

“I want to be human.”

Hoseok’s eyes widened as he straightened with a jerk, almost causing him to roll away from the screen in the chair. Namjoon waited patiently as his friend kept opening and closing his mouth. Finally, Hoseok scooted closer to the screen and placed his face close enough to almost see up his nostrils.

“Why would you want to be human?” he whispered harshly, confused. “That’s... that’s a punishment in itself. Do you know how hard I worked to keep you from becoming a human?” He leaned back, shaking his head in disbelief.

“I know, I know. And I hope you know how grateful I am towards you. Now, though….“ Namjoon hesitated, glancing towards the loft above him. Hoseok gestured for him to continue. “The fates have connected myself with a human woman, and -”

“Oh. Namjoon, you didn’t…” Hoseok sighed, his voice turning sympathetic. He rubbed his temples, which Namjoon took as a not-so-good sign. “Okay. Let me think. I… I’ll have to bring up your case again, talk to the magistrate. You’ll probably have to go tell them what you want and why they should give it to you. You’ll also have to face the Frost family.” Namjoon pressed his lips together in a thin line, narrowing his eyes. Hoseok shrugged helplessly. 

“Fine. Can you get the process started?”

Your dreamless sleep was gently interrupted by the bed dipping beside you. Sighing, you rolled onto your side, toward the body that had stretched out there. Muscled arms wrapped around you as your cheek pressed against Namjoon’s chest, your arm laid over his torso. You nuzzled his chest, the scent of peppermint tickling your nose. Eyes still closed, you felt his fingers gently running through your hair. 

“You smell good,” you mumbled into his shirt. Namjoon chuckled, his chest moving slightly. You lifted your head and moved toward his face, placing your lips on his for a moment. Soft smiles passed between the both of you as you pulled away. His hand cupped your cheek, thumb running over your bottom lip slowly. You nipped at it playfully. Namjoon’s eyebrows raised.

“If you keep teasing me like that, I’ll return the favor.” He smirked, gazing at you with an intense stare. Your grin fell and you sucked in a quiet breath, noticing the change in the air. Pushing yourself onto your hands and knees, you manuvored yourself so you straddled his hips, leaning over him. His hands gripped your hips as you hovered over his body. “What do you want, angel? Whatever it is, I’ll give it to you.”

“Right now?” you asked innocently, letting your hips fall onto his. The apex of your thighs pressed against his member, which was hardening quickly. You wiggled, keeping your eyes locked with his. Namjoon’s eyes darkened and his fingers gripped your hips tighter, making you stop wiggling. “I want to feel you… inside me.”

“Same,” he growled, rolling over without hesitation, trapping you underneath him, your back pressed against the sheets. His hands found yours, settling them above your head, fingers entwined, as his hips flexed. You shivered, feeling his dick straining against his zipper. A shiver of anticipation went through your body. “How do you want me? Slow and soft, fast and hard?”

“All of them,” you replied, not able to chose. They were both equally desirable. Namjoon let out a laugh, then bent down, nuzzling your shoulder. He let the tip of his nose run over your shirt and then onto your skin as it pressed against your neck. You turned your head, giving him better access. Breathlessly, you let out a soft whine. 

“Does that mean I get to pick?” His voice was deep, slightly muffled from your skin. You swallowed and nodded, lifting your hips to press even harder against his. He kissed your skin, then scraped his teeth in the same spot before pulling away. Hovering over you one again, he winked. Suddenly, both of you were naked, your clothes disappearing. As soon as his cool skin pressed against yours, you gasped. 

“Joon!” you cried, feeling his hard cock rubbing against your opening as his hips jerked. Namjoon seemed to be as affected by your skin touching his because his eyes were closed tightly. Wiggling your body underneath him, you pulled your hands from his and wrapped them around his neck, pulling his forehead down to yours. His hands fisted the blanket on either side of your head. Sharing soft pecks on the lips, Namjoon opened his eyes. His light blue eyes had darkened to navy, his dick twitching as the head pressed against your opening. 

“Not yet,” he rasped before covering your mouth with his. Immediately, you opened your lips and accept his tongue inside. Tilting your head, you clung to him with your arms as your hips moved desperately, the feel of his member sliding against your clit beginning to become overwhelming. Namjoon growled against your lips, biting the lower one, then devouring your taste once again, tongue exploring every corner of your mouth. He pulled his hips away, causing you to groan into the kiss.

“Inside, please, Joon!” Whining, you tried to press his body back against you. He groaned and resisted your tugging, dipping his head so his lips pressed against your collarbone. You groaned and held onto his broad shoulders as his mouth moved lower, kissing down your chest. He placed an open mouth kiss on top of your right nipple and brought his fingers up to the other to give it as much attention. 

“Gotta taste you first, Angel,” he panted between nips and licks against your breast. You groaned and tangled your fingers in his hair as he blew against the tip. After a while, he switched to the other nipple. “I can already smell your arousal. I know you’re so slick for me, ready for my cock to slide right inside.”

“Yes,” you gasped, tugging at his hair. He lifted his head, a grin on his face, and pressed his lips to yours once again. As he slowly savored your mouth, one of Namjoon’s hands ran lightly over your torso, making goosebumps appear everywhere. “Please touch me. I love your fingers…”

“I know. I’m glad,” he murmured as he pressed a finger against your aching clit. You groaned and kissed him harder, biting his lip. He chuckled as he flexed his hips against you, his dick warming against your skin. He began to make figure eights with his finger, looking proud of himself as he looked down at your face. 

“You’re so beautiful, Angel. Responding to my every touch.” 

He leaned forward, his finger still moving as you shuddered under him, and pressed his lips against your cheek. Whispering, he placed his lips near your ears to say, “I can’t wait to cum inside you, to truly make you mine.”

“Yes,” you repeated, sloppily kissing him deeply. You put one hand over his hand between your legs, and pressed it lower, asking without words for more. Namjoon hum in appreciation, nipping at your lips, and slid two fingers over your opening. You both groaned at the same time, your hips jerking.

“Fuck, Angel, I was right. I’ll have no probably sliding completely inside you.” He pressed his two fingers inside, slowly moving them in and out. You spread your thighs wider. Namjoon pulled his fingers out suddenly.

“Don’t stop!” you cried out, reaching for his hand to place it back between your legs. Namjoon avoided your hand and brought his fingers to his mouth. Grinning, he licked your juices off.

“I’m not going to stop….”

“Can you please put your dick in me, Joon?” you pleaded desperately, squirming under him. Namjoon seemed surprised, but only for a moment. He spread your thighs with his knees, eyes widening in with anticipation as he lined the head of his cock against your slit. You shared a final look between the two of you, then he pressed forward slowly.

You both let out a heavy sigh of pleasure as he slid into you. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you angled your hips to allow him deeper access. He pressed his forehead against yours, his cock fully entered you. Even though his body was cool, his dick was hot and throbbing in you. 

“I promised to give you anything you wanted,” he whispered against your lips. You flexed your hips, causing his dick to shift against your walls. “Let me lead, Angel, please. I won’t last long if you keep doing that.”

“I’m gonna go crazy if you don’t start moving!” 

Namjoon laughed at your demand, rubbing your noses together as he slowly pulled out. You both groaned as he stopped halfway and pressed forward once again. Slow and steady, he pushed then pulled, repeating the movement as his lips explored your mouth and the skin of your neck. He sucked there as he began to pick up speed, this time pulling his dick all the way out before thrusting inside. You shifted upward on the bed with his hard movement, but held on tightly as he continued his rough pace. As he sucked and bit bruises into your neck, you tried to catch your breath as the smell of peppermint surrounded you. 

“You’re so warm, so inviting, so wet. All for me, only for me, Angel,” Namjoon panted and pulled his face from your neck, pausing his thrusts to use his hands spread your thighs wider. Your knees pulled up toward your torso, opening yourself to him as much as possible. 

“Yes, yes,” you chanted, hips lifting to meet his quickening thrusts. One hand pressed your thigh down, holding yourself open for him, surely leaving marks to see later. His other hand held himself up over your, giving himself a good lever to use as he fucked into you over and over. Your shut your eyes tightly, burying your face into his chest as you cried out with each movement. You felt and heard his hips slapping against yours. When one of his fingers pressed against your clit, you jerked and bit into the skin of Namjoon’s shoulder. 

“That’s it, Angel. Let go. For me. Let go for me.” He continued to whisper encouraging, sweet words down toward you, hips and fingers moving in a rhythm of intense pleasure. A familiar feeling of pleasurable warmth started to grow in your lower body, spreading steadily as Namjoon continued to touch and talk to you. His thrusts started to grow uneven, whines coming from his lips.

“Oh, god!” you cried out, cursing as you shuddered and clinched against his cock, surrounded by his smell and whimpers as he sloppily thrust into you, about to reach his own peak. You rolled your hips as another small tremor slide from your head to your toes. You nuzzled Namjoon’s cheek with your own as he cried out, his release coating your walls. He jerked against you, holding you tightly as you continued to move your hips to help him as much as possible.

Gasping for breath, Namjoon’s head spun, his release sending him into some kind of euphoric state, where nothing mattered except you and him, your bodies wrapped around one another. He couldn’t hold himself up, so he fell on top of you, mumbling an apology. For several long moments, he listened to your heartbeat, ear to your chest, as you both worked to breath normally. Your fingers ran through his hair, both of you quietly enjoying the soft moment. Finally, Namjoon began to worry he was hurting you.

“Sorry, Angel,” he sighed, pulling himself off of you. Before he could completely leave, though, you smiled tiredly at him and wrapped your arms around his neck. You pulled him back toward you, and Namjoon didn’t want to deny you anything right now. He went right back to where he was, cheek on your chest, listening to your heartbeat as you stroked his hair. “Sure I’m not hurting you?”

“Nope,” you mumbled. “I love to cuddle after sex. Especially with you.” The last part was added after a moment of hesitation. 

The words caused Namjoon’s chest to ache with both happiness and sadness. Your time was coming to its limit soon, and the thought was edging it’s way to the surface. He suspected you were now thinking the same thing, from the way your fingers stopped for a moment before starting once again moving through his hair. “How much longer?” you asked after a while of silence.

“I….” Namjoon trailed off, shifted slightly to look toward the covered window. He lifted his fingers to use magic to pull the curtains slightly away as to see the sky. “I think… four hours, maybe?”

“Ah.”

“Angel,” Namjoon softly said, lifting himself enough to hover over your, his face now just above yours. He brushed his nose against yours, and then his lips against your own. Namjoon closed his eyes, enjoying the simple touches as he kissed you. This kiss was much less passionate than the ones earlier. He wasn’t sure what this one was filled with, honestly. He opened his eyes and rolled onto his side, arm still over your torso. He didn’t want to stop touching you. 

“Joon,” you answered with a grin, rolling onto your own side to face him. His chest ached heavily now, and he did his best not to show it, not to let you notice he was starting to hurt from the thought of you leaving. “I would be happy to spend the rest of my night right here, in your arms.”

“Perfect,” he murmured. You buried your face into his naked chest, not seeing Namjoon bite his lip hard enough to make him visibly wince. He held you tightly, and you returned with the same. 

Neither of you awoke when an unseen clock starting to chime twelve times. One… Two… Three… With each chime, the faux snow fell heavier and heavier, just as it had the time you had came here twenty-four hours ago. Neither of you felt each other fade from your arms, but the ache of separation from someone special wasn’t something that would go away as soon as everything went back to normal.

With sunlight slipping through the sheer curtains on your window, your eyelids flutter open. Blinking, you take a moment for your mind to become clear from sleep. Sitting up, you take a deep breath and stretch your hands over your head. You look down and see yourself in your usual snowflake pajamas. Everything seemed normal, but your mood was much brighter than it had been in the weeks before. Rolling your neck, you catch the sunlight glinting off something. Looking fully toward your side table, you see the snowglobe. The world inside the glass globe was calm and serene, just as it should be.

Checking your phone, you realize it was Christmas Day, not Eve. Frowning at yourself in the mirror, you wondered if the holiday depression you had felt had made you pass through the day without realizing. As you got ready for your day, tiny snippets of your dream from last night built into a full memory. In the shower, you looked wide-eyed at your thighs, seeing small bruises where fingertips could have been. While you brushed your teeth, you eyed the hickies on your neck, flushing.

As you finished covering them with make-up, you froze, staring at yourself. Suddenly, you started to laugh, a full belly laugh that seemed to take over your whole body. After a long moment of laughing as tears streamed down your face, you finally calmed, the dream fully coming back. It hadn’t been a dream, you knew it. You also felt an ache in your chest when you thought of him, the winter spirit who had made your wish come true. Wiping the tears off your cheeks, you walked back into your room. The globe on your table hadn’t moved, nothing inside had changed. Letting out a mournful sigh, you reach your fingers toward the item, but stopped just before you touched the glass globe.

As you left your bedroom, you saw a beautiful etching of frost on your window. You recognized the landscape that appeared - the park of the snowglobe. You wondered if Namjoon had done it, although you knew you had no way of knowing if he truly had.

Swallowing, Namjoon stood tall in the middle of the room. The raised stage in front of him had all the Winter Council members, as well as Boreas the Winter God, seated to face him. He also felt the eyes of the Frost Family behind him, only allowed into this because of the fact they were the Frost Family. Usually, no one except the Council, the accused, and their representative would be allowed in this room. Hoseok had done his best to convince the Council to get rid of the Frost Family, but the winter council seemed to like smug spirits more than the law of their beings. Boreas, as an observer only, couldn't do a damn thing, although he looked as annoyed as Hoseok and Namjoon did. 

“His actions led to the deaths of thousands of humans, Council Leader,” said Jack Frost, the leader of the famous family, stood next to Namjoon. “As winter spirits, we need to be in control of our powers. It seems only the Frosts are able to do that.”

“So it seems,” Namjoon murmured. Everyone looking at him raised an eyebrow. He cleared his throat and took a deep breath. He forced himself to unclench his jaw. “I am not here to deny these events. I understand my actions contributed to the deaths of humans.”

“Then why are you here?” the council leader asked, sighing with boredom. 

“I want my sentence to be changed.” 

“You can’t be trusted out in our world,” Jack hurried said, glaring at Namjoon. 

“I don’t want my powers anymore.”

The room fell silent, with everyone but Namjoon, Hoseok, and Boreas staring at him in shock. Boreas actually had a smirk forming on his lips, but he hid it quickly. Namjoon waited a long moment for anyone to say something, but when no one did, he relaxed his whole body. Jack snapped out of it at that moment and started to laugh. Namjoon glared at him, but decided to keep talking.

“It seems the Fates have shown me a different life that may be available to me. I’m going to trust the Fates, but only you can change me into a human to follow that path.”

“You don’t want your powers anymore,” the Council Leader repeated.

“No.”

“You want to be human?” 

“Yes.”

“Why?” The council leader furrowed his brows and leaned forward, suddenly interested. “Humans are… well, mortal, living short lives, with no magic. At all. No magic.” He repeated the phrase like it was the most important issue here.

“You guys don’t want me to have powers anymore, so just take them. The Frost Family can rule over the winter realm like everyone wants, and I don’t have to deal with the drama that comes with that.”

Boreas let out a snort, causing all eyes to rest on him. He fixed his face quickly, staring blankly back at everyone. Eyes turned back to Namjoon.

“Maybe you do have common sense,” Jack muttered. He shrugged. “Fine. Take his powers, make him a human. The Frost Family is fine with not being responsible for keeping him locked up. Good luck, Namjoon.” Jack obviously didn’t mean it, though. He quickly held up his middle finger, hiding it enough for only Namjoon to see it as he left the room.

“Boreas, sir,” the Council Leader stuttered, turning towards the God. “What do you make of this?”

“I’m only an observer, here in case nothing is worked out.” The Council Leader opened his mouth, but Boreas continued to talk. “You’ve wanted to do it since he was sentenced. Now that he wants it done, why are you hesitating?”

Usually, during Christmas evening, you would be with your family, playing board games that turn into huge competitions long into the night. This time, since they were on a cruise and enjoying the sun, you were alone. Still, you had a plan. After speaking to your family through video chatting, you made your way to the large hospital of the city. You hadn’t been there for a long while as a volunteer, so it took a while to get your information straightened out, but finally you made your way to the children’s oncology department.

Even though these children and their families didn’t know you, they welcomed you with open arms. Other volunteers were around the large conference room. A huge christmas tree was in the middle of the room, allowing everyone to wonder around it to see the different areas. There were places to read to children or read alone, do an art project, play instruments, write letters to Santa, take pictures with Santa, and many other activities.

You divided your time between all the booths for a while, helping with keeping snacks and water stocked for everyone. You hadn’t had this much fun-- this much happiness-- around you in such a long time. It seemed like everything was back to normal, except for the ache in your chest you knew was for Namjoon. As the sun was setting, and the booths were being packed up and closed, you stepped out into the hallway that lead to an exit, wanting some fresh air. Even though you had on your warmest outerwear, it still stung your nose and ears as you stepped outside. You saw a figure near you, seemingly doing the same thing. He looked familiar, and you recognize the coat and hat he was wearing. He had been reading to the kids for the last hour, when you had been helping with the letter writing booth.

“The kids loved you reading to them.” The figure turned, looking fully toward you. Your eyes widened and your mouth fell open. His grin turned to confusion, although his deep dimples never disappeared.

“Yes… are you okay? Do I have something on my face?” Immediately, he lifted his gloved hands, patting his cheeks. You swallowed and waved your hands.

“No, no! No, you don’t, you just… you look familiar. Do I… know you? Do you know me?”

“I don’t... think so? But, you do look familiar. And I don’t think it’s because of the previous hour I was here….” He looked thoughtfully out into the parking lot, then turned his gaze back to you. “I’m Namjoon. I was going to get some coffee before heading home. Would… would you like to join me?” 

When he said his name, you froze, unable to breathe. Namjoon seemed to take it as something else, because he was suddenly backtracking his question, stuttering over his words. “You don’t have to, I know it’s late, you’re probably heading back home to your family and- ”

“I’d love to,” you interrupt, the ache in your chest turning to hope. Namjoon grinned. As you walked beside him, you wondered if this was really what your heart was wishing for days ago. The Fates had listened to your words, but seemed to delve even deeper than you had intended. You had wished for a companion, but maybe it was meant to be more than just one day.