#also u might find something else u link in the way. wink. wink wink

[punkkrat]

Your YoshiDen art makes my brain go brrrr. Any good fic recs?

Anything by Pepsi (@pepsiiwho) Boogy or J is GOLD

[bloodyhell-lucifer]

Daddy is the devil | Lucifer Morningstar

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x fem!reader

Summary: Reader is one of Chloe’s best friends and they haven't seen each other for a long time so the decision was made. Finally a sleepover at Chloe’s house since Chloe has a day off of work and Dan took Trixie with him to have some dad-daughter time. What they didn't know is that Lucifer will come with unexpected visit and reader’s shirt will cause such a mess.

Warning: language, smut, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), praise kink, daddy kink, +18

Based on this request: Hello, I hope you are doing well, I would like to politely request a one shot (or more if it inspires you, you do you) from Lucifer, you can do whatever you want with it, reader insert, oc, smut, no smut, totally up to you but I would like it to involve Lucifer meeting/seeing the reader/character (preferably female, gender neutral is also fine) wearing that crop top from Blackcraft that says “Satan Is My Daddy” please and thank you

Notes:

Thank you so much for this request sweet anon! I couldn’t wait to write it down because this idea was so cool.

To be honest it’s my first real one request so I’m pretty excited and also this is my first smut so I’m not so proud about it. I think I don’t know how to write them. Someone teach me?

If there are some mistakes let me know because English isn’t my first language so as soon as possible I’ll correct it.

If you would like to send me a message, ask me about something or send me a request about imagine then the link is in my bio so feel free to message me! I would like to know you better and read your ideas and write them down😄

If you guys like my shitty writings you can follow me for more. I’ll be posting new things sooner than you think and thanks for so much activity under my posts and all the follows, it means a lot and I love u so so much xx

You and Chloe had everything planned for tonight. When you were talking on the phone to discuss the details you decided to have a movie night with some alcohol. You bought some wine, chips and sweets for you and your friend to have some snacks. Feeling of excitement was huge about finally seeing your friend after such a long time. You showed up at Chloe’s door about seven pm ringing a bell to her door. After few seconds the door were open and Chloe lean out from behind of it.

“Oh my god hi girl, so good to finally see you.” she enveloped you in a big hug wrapping her hands around your neck.

“Hi Chloe, long time no see.” you hugged her back. With a gesture of her hand she invited you inside and you stepped in.

After two hours you two were slightly drunk and making fun comments over character that was on the screen of tv during the movie.

“So tell me Chloe, some time ago you were taking to me on the phone about that guy you were working with that just have some attitude and always have something to tell and joke about. What was his name again? Lucian?” You asked her taking other sip from glass of wine.

“Lucifer to be exact. His name is Lucifer.” on her face appeared frown and she raised her brows. “Why you asking?”

“Just asking. You like him?” Hint of concern could be felt coming from your lips.

“Of course I like him. I work with him. He’s my partner.” she responded and nervously began to rub her hands against her thighs.

“You know that’s not what I meant. Is he that handsome that it’s bothering you?” you got up from the couch and headed to the kitchen to pour yourself another glass of wine since you finished the last one.

“Please stop. He’s definitely not my type. He’s arrogant, has got a big ego and always have that stupid smile on his face every time we go somewhere.” She folded her arms over her chest and rolled her eyes.

“Oh I hope I’ll meet him someday. I want to know who’s working with my best friend.” you winked at her and laughed along Chloe.

“Some day for sure.” Chloe was praying that this whole Lucifer topic will end with that. “Tell me you have someone?” She tried to change the topic of that conversation.

“Of course not. Some time ago I had a date with this guy named Brian but it didn’t go well and I lost hope for finding someone.” You said going back to couch and putting your glass on the coffee table that was in front of you. “Listen I’m gonna go and change because this jeans are so uncomfortable and I’m losing my shit with them” You grabbed your bag and went to bathroom to change. You picked your normal pjs which were just crop top with caption ‘Satan is my daddy’ on it and black bottoms.

“Oh Jesus Y/N what a shirt” Chloe blurted as soon as she saw you.

“It’s just a crop top Chloe. Can you just chill? We are already drinking a second bottle of wine and you still seem so stressed about something.” You declared after seeing her sitting so tense. One of the movies you’ve chosen was still playing in the room and none of you was watching it so Chloe switched it to music channel.

“Y/N I’m so sorry. I know I screwed this up. I’ve been stressed about work and Trixie and I don’t know what to do. I hoped I will invite you, we will have fun together after long time and this feelings would go away, but I guess it doesn’t go away and I can’t have fun. I messed up” she sighed and got up from the couch to just stand in front of you having her hands on your shoulder.

“We’re all humans after all, Chloe. I get it and I understand. You don’t have to worry. We can talk about it if you want and we still have time to make it fun. Go get change into your pj’s and and I’m expecting you turning back with a smile on your face.” You smirked to her and went up to set new snacks on coffee table.

When Chloe returned she didn’t have time to say anything because the bell from the door rang immediately.

“Did you invite anyone else?” You asked curiously.

“Of course not. Just you and me. No one else.” She added going to the door to check who was that. You were just standing right behind her.

She opened the door and Chloe saw the the last person she wanted to see today.

“What are you doing here?” She hissed and it was obvious that she didn’t want that person’s presence. You still couldn’t see who that person was.

“Oh don’t be so rude detective. I was in the neighbourhood and I thought that I’ll stop by with a visit.” You heard men’s strong deep voice with a British accent.

Chloe was so tired of this. She didn’t have strength to fight with that man and let him in and then you saw him. The man was a lot taller than you, shit he towered over you. You were so shock seeing that handsome man that you though that you were having a hallucinations seeing a Greek god. He had pitch black hair with little stubble. His hazel brown eyes were twisting into yours like he wanted to see every inch of your soul. Of course his devilish smile was there too to give him another hundred points to looking too fuckin’ good. He was dressed in fancy black suit and black button up that hugs his body so perfectly. You could see from distance that under all that suit he must be having a nice, trained body. Is that legal to look that handsome? You though to yourself.

“Bloody hell detective, I didn’t know you were having a company.” He sent you an evil grin and came into your way. Chloe stood there and she was about to say something when that man spoke to you.

“Hi, my name is Lucifer. Lucifer Morningstar.” He stepped closer to you and took your hand in his. He kissed the top of your hand.

“Like the devil?” You asked and you didn’t know if to laugh or to start panicking.

“Don’t bring my dad into this darlin’. Yeah, like the devil.” He still was having that smirk that could knock you off of your feet by any second. “And you are?”

“I’m Y/N” you gulped suddenly feeling naked under Lucifer’s gaze.

“Oh that’s a real beautiful one” he responded and lean in just to be few centimetres away from your figure. He took one of strands of your hair and put them behind your ear whispering to you. “I really like your shirt baby.”

You wanted to say something, anything but you just couldn’t. You didn’t want to believe that is was that guy Lucifer that you were asking Chloe about.

“Okey enough, Lucifer. Leave Y/N alone. What do you want?” Chloe closed the door behind him and asked Lucifer with frown on her face and furrowed brows. She had her hands on her hips and she really looked like she was not in the mood for such things.

“I said loud and clear I came just to check on you, but now as I see your friend I might want something.” He chuckled and looked at you again. You were so intimidated by his presence that you were looking down at the floor in that moment with blush creeping onto your cheeks.

“Can you stop being the perv that you actually are? If you don’t stop you’ll have to leave.” She urged staying in the hallway. Chloe really was pissed off.

“Okey dokey.” Lucifer raised his hands up in a gesture of surrender and he stepped back from you and went to the living room and you and Chloe follow along.

“Okey ladies, let’s start the night properly” Lucifer loud voice echoed through the room and you already had known that you gonna regret it later.

Chloe told you and Lucifer that she had enough of drinking and that’s it. She was not the one to convince so you and Lucifer were left to the alcohol that still was in the house. After another two bottles of wine and another two hours later in the night Chloe’s phone started buzzing and within moments she went to grab it and answered the call leaving the room. You knew you two were pretty drunk but you could still manage with yourself. Lucifer on the other hand after that two hours ended up with his shirt half unbuttoned and messed up hair after you challenged him to do so. You couldn’t get your eyes off of him sitting like that with his legs spread out and your whole body was screaming to straddle his lap. You though you were going to drool yourself at sight of his muscular torso. You felt pretty damn wet in your panties after sights like this.

“Guys I’m leaving for now. I’ll be right back but Dan called me saying that Trixie is burning up and probably having a fever. I’m going to pick her up. I have already ordered a taxi. Please don’t do something stupid. Y/N, I’m counting on you” Chloe shouted to you putting on her shoes, already changed and slumming her front door shut.

“Guess we have some time alone sweetheart.” Black-haired man said to you turning his head towards you. He put one of his massive hands on your thigh and you sighed after his touch touching your sensitive skin. Your knees were touching and you felt shiver running down your spine. His face was millimetres away from yours. The pad of his thumb running across your bottom lip making you tremble. Your breath hitched as Lucifer smirked at you.

“What do you say baby girl? I know you want me.” He seductively admitted. His deep voice echoing through your years. You felt like you were in trance. Thoughts and consequences be damned, you wanted him more than you’d ever wanted anything, and fuck anything that was in your way.

His thumb moving away from your lips as he was leaning in closer to you. His lips ghosting over yours. His hands cupped your face with his two hands caressing your cheeks. Both of you starred at each other. Your eyes fluttered closed as Lucifer laid his lips on yours. He kissed you passionately, your lips moving in sync. Lucifer’s eyes fluttering closed as well. He grabbed a hold of your hair pulling at them causing a moan felt from your lips as the kiss began to got deeper and needer. You decided to make a move and straddle his lap. His fingers moved from your jaw to your hips digging into them harshly. Your fingers quickly unbuttoned the rest of the buttons on his shirt. Your hands didn’t waste time to trail down his muscular torso what made him groan into the kiss. You broke the kiss first moving your head down towards his exposed chest, pressing your lips against it. You trailed wet, sloppy kisses down his chest, then down towards his stomach. Stopping above the waistline of his pants. Lucifer smirked down at you, as you got on your knees. Looking up at him, as you undid the button of his pants, then unzipped the zip pulling his pants down, as well as his boxers, you freed his growing bulge. Lucifer let out a hiss, as his cock sprang up, while you bit your lip. You stared at his big cock in awe making your way back to the couch to sit next to him.

“You like what you see baby girl? Would you like daddy’s cock in your tight, little pussy of yours? He asked grabbing a firm hold of your jaw making you look him straight into his eyes.

“Hell yes, please daddy” you said arching your back to get some friction from your actions.

Lucifer lowered you to the mattress, your back met the rough material of the living room’s couch. It felt so inviting, so intimidating. You wanted that so badly, your entire body screamed for pleasure. You felt air leave your lungs because of the handsome man has begun to kiss your neck. Your chest were heaving, you raised a hand to the base of his neck and held him there as he sucked strong marks onto your skin. Little moan left you, while your body began to surrender to him.

“You’ll be in hell soon darlin’. Sorry baby but this shirt needs to get out with rest of your clothes but it’s so beautiful and welcoming.” He quickly made you get rid of your clothes quickly. When Lucifer bended down while still keeping his brown eyes locked with yours his tongue swiped a lick atop your breast, then immediately took your stiffened tit in his mouth to suck. His other hand worked on massaging your other breast and you forgot about everything around you and let your body take over as your mouth produced another groan. That’s when he decided to pull your nipple lightly in between his teeth.

“Oh, fuck,” you exhaled the curse in ecstasy.

“Naughty girl aren’t you.” Lucifer grinned, but his tone suggested he’s aroused with your language. His hand ran down the plane of your stomach and slipped down to feel your pulsing desire. You could see it in his eyes how pleased he is at the amount of slickness he felt coating his fingers. He toyed with your clit in deliberately slow circles, and you whined at his touch while moving your hips to receive more stimulation. But Lucifer’s fingers went on to explore further inside you, and you couldn’t hold back the gasp that left your lips as he began to stretch you. He bended down again so that his face is above yours, cologne so strong yet soothing. Lucifer’s kisses were hot and needy. His tongue made a reappearance and became acquainted with yours. Your next gasp bled into a groan into his mouth when he added another finger.

“Yeah, please daddy, I want your cock so bad inside me.” you practically begged.

His fingers may be removed from your sopping heat, but in their place, Lucifer’s bending cock slided between your legs to coat it with your wet pussy. Dark haired man finally entered you. Your back lifted off the bed as you let out a lust-filled cry. It was a tight and delicious fit with your muscles constricting around his eager girth. The man’s lips twisted up at the sound and creates his own unbridled groan.

“Spread your legs wide, babydoll. Take the devil all in.” He was so big you didn’t even know how you can adjust, but your body found a way to relax enough for Lucifer to slide in deeper.

Your eyes squeezed shut at how he stretched you fully, but your voice begged him to move, to give you more. He went on to create a steady rhythm with his hips and all with that filthy comments on how tight and perfect you felt around him. You made another desperate noise as you continue your ascent, which prompts him to ask between grunts, “Speak, love. What do you need from daddy?”

“Your big hands with your fingers daddy” you somehow told with filling voice your need amidst your hedonistic sounds.

“It’s going to the direction I didn’t know it’s going” Lucifer laughed with devilish smirk upon his face.

It was what you need after all, the extra stimulation to bring you closer and closer to what could be the strongest orgasm of your life. In a series of ‘yes’s and curses, you reached another plane of existence. Flashes of white light grew behind your eyes while your mouth widened. Lucifer, in turn, exhaled a shaky and pleasurable moan as your body repeatedly constricted and pulled around his cock.

“Oh shit, doll, just right there.” He came inside you, hot and fast, and you feel the descent of your high flow through you. Every part of you was warm and exhilarated and thoroughly pleased. When Lucifer pulled out from you, he rolled over back onto the couch. His grin read that his own desires have been fulfilled. You knew you got yourself into a deep shit and there’s no way going back.

[klvbxlove]

omg (kanji & yu x gn! reader)

a/n: Y’ALL OH MY GOD. i’ve been wanting to write this for the longest time but never got the chance to ‘cause i was busy with other stuff. but now, i finally got to it! although i had to stop on a few occasions ‘cause writing some of the scenes had me blushing LMAO (PLEASE I JUST WANT YU AND KANJI TO BE REAL WTF). oh yeah, and just to clarify, i don’t own the song featured in this drabble! it’s actually pretty catchy (and spicy *WINK WONK*), y’all should listen to it. it’s a shame it’s not available on spotify or any other music streaming services, tho 😭

(GOD DAMN IT I WISH THERE WAS MORE YU X KANJI GIFS ON TUMBLR *CRIES*)

reader type: gender-neutral

reader specification(s): none

genre(s): lime, romance

trigger warning(s): slightly suggestive content

summary: on a hot summer day, while cleaning your living room, you decided to dance to one of your favorite songs-- and having sinful images of yu and kanji in your mind. 

song(s) featured: “omg” by itano tomomi

audio link 

lyrics (romaji & english translation)

lyrics (kanji & kana)

word count: 1.6k words

♡ ♡ ♡ (ꈍᴗꈍ)ε｀*) ♡ ♡ ♡

key:

(e/c) = eye color (n/n) = nickname (y/n) = your name

♡ ♡ ♡ (ꈍᴗꈍ)ε｀*) ♡ ♡ ♡

   君もカレも魅力的、OMG!    誰か一人なんて 選べない    試してみる? tasty    急に奪って今すぐに kiss me

   The song hadn’t gone into a minute, yet you could already feel your hips swaying to the beat. You weren’t even sure if you were cleaning your living room right now. It was more of you being distracted by the catchiness of the song and just wanting to dance. Every once in a while, you would lip-sync to the lyrics. Pretending you were performing it on stage. 

   But this was the type of song you would only perform for your boyfriends, Yu and Kanji. A private show, if you could put it that way. 

   ふと目が行く    その手つきにもう夢中    肩のラインも SO GOOD    頭の中は君と make love make love

   Due to the summer heat coming from outside, you turned on a fan to cool down. You could feel the air flowing your body and brushing up against your clothes (you were wearing a light, oversized shirt and one of Yu’s boxers. What? They were comfy!). But despite that, you could still feel some sweat rolling down. 

   You weren’t so sure if you were hallucinating, but you swore you saw Yu and Kanji in the same room as you. Shirtless. It was almost as if they were there (or it might be just the heat). 

   With their backs towards you, you watched as they were also cleaning the living room and getting more work done than you were. They were also affected by the heat, as there was sweat dripping off of them. At one point, Yu sighed and ran one of his hands through his gray hair as if he was getting tired already. You couldn’t blame him. 

   You also couldn’t blame yourself for subconsciously licking your lips. You really couldn’t get enough of your boyfriends. But the fact you got two of them instead of just one? You almost wanted to consider yourself lucky to be with such amazing men. 

   止まらない 想像が 伝わったら いいのに

   Oh, yes. Your imagination has gone crazy over Yu and Kanji at random points. 

   This song spoke to you a lot!

   こっちもそっちも捨てがたいの OMG!    早く早く私捕まえて    胸の内は nasty    シャイだ��ら言えないの feel me

   You didn’t find any point in continuing to clean the living room. There would always be another time for you to finish up. So instead, you let your body move to the beat of the song. You had memorized the choreography of the song out of pure boredom, and needless to say, it was your go-to dance. Especially when you couldn’t get Yu and Kanji out of your mind. 

   You almost didn’t want anyone to know about how nasty your mind was when it came to your boyfriends. Your imaginations belonged to them. 

   uh yea yea    ah uh yea yea    ah uh yea yea    ah... oh, OMG! ×2

   You waited for the perfect moment for the beat drop. 

   And then...

   OMG! ×2

   It came. 

   You loved this part of the song. You felt a sense of boldness flow through your body as you dropped to the floor and continued the dance. Your imagination must’ve gotten to you, but you were seeing steam emitting from the room. 

   And it just so happened that Yu and Kanji were sitting on the couch, watching you (They must’ve decided that cleaning would save for another day, as well). From a glance, you saw Yu smirking at you. Meanwhile, Kanji’s face was turning a light pink while he bit his bottom lip. 

  Feeling their eyes on you sent a tingling sensation in you. And it flew throughout your body when you laid on your back and lifted your legs in the air as you continued the dance (**). 

   At this moment, you felt free. So free. It almost felt like you were wearing nothing but your undergarments. The air conditioner was able to hit all the spots on your body, cooling you down. But still, it wasn’t enough to stop the heat that you were feeling. And it wasn’t because of the summer weather. 

   顔がタイプ uh uh    なんだか気も合う uh uh    知性的なのも    他の誰よりも like that, like that

   Eventually, you got back up on your feet, but your body was still moving. All you could think about was how badly you wanted Yu and Kanji. Nothing else was your concern at this moment. You had no idea how long you could handle the wait for them, considering how they were still hanging out with Yosuke and Teddie.  

   2人きりだと 時が速いの    秘密のお泊まりあるかも

   And considering how it was still afternoon, you could have your boyfriends all to yourself for the next few hours. The excitement was getting to you--

   “Well, well. What a nice surprise we came home to see. Right, Kanji?” 

   ‘OH SHIT.’

   You swore your head could’ve been snapped off your neck by how fast you whipped it. Turning your head around, you saw your boyfriends standing in front of you. Yu had an amused look on his face, and Kanji was flustered. Almost similar to how they looked when you imagined them watching you dance. 

   “U-Uh, yeah. I guess,” Kanji mumbled as he swallowed a lump in his throat. He was already feeling something in the down area of his body, and there was no way he could ever try to hide it. At least only you would be able to see it. And Yu, too. Thank the heavens that Yosuke and Teddie (or God forbid, the girls!) weren’t there to see it, though!

   Meanwhile, you stood there in your spot, not moving a single inch of your body. You certainly weren’t expecting your boyfriends to be home that quick. Let alone catching you dancing to quite a spicy song. Were you embarrassed about it, though? No, it was mostly you being in shock. 

   And it wasn’t as if you wanted them to catch you.

   Yu chuckled. “Those were some interesting moves you got there, (Y/N),” he said. You felt like your eyes were about to widen from how his voice sounded (there was some lust behind it). “Never knew you were quite a good dancer until just now. Another nice surprise to discover, too.” 

   “It’s nothing, really,” you smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck. “I just got obsessed with this song and wanted to learn the dance.”

   “We’re still not gonna deny that you’re good at it, though,” Kanji pointed out. At this point, he was surprised he didn’t get a nosebleed after watching all of that. His eyes were practically glued onto you as he watched your body move to every beat of the song. 

   How you didn’t notice him and Yu walking into the house in the middle of your dancing session, Kanji didn’t know. Either way, he couldn’t let out the noise when he watched you get on the floor. 

   Unbeknownst to you, Kanji’s imagination also went crazy. 

   “Aww, thanks!” you smiled, then bit the inside of your cheek. A habit you did whenever you felt flustered. 

   “But don’t you think you’d be good at dancing upstairs in our bed?” Yu’s voice suddenly deepened. It almost sounded like he growled. 

   ‘Wait, what--’

   “E-Eh?” you tilted your head. 

   “Because I certainly think so,” the gray-haired male said before he slowly walked up to you and grabbed you by the waist, pulling you close. When you looked at him, he had a sensual look on his face. A look that always sends butterflies in your stomach.

   You almost didn’t have the time to make a noise of surprise when Yu suddenly locked his lips onto yours. Your (E/C) eyes widened. But it wasn’t long before you gave back into the kiss. No matter how many times you’ve done this, you could never get enough of how Yu was a great kisser. It always had you melting. 

   In just a matter of seconds, Kanji walked up behind you and began to place kisses on the back of your neck. At the sudden touch, you let out another small gasp. Yu found the opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth. He also slipped one of his hands under your shirt and caressed it using his thumb. You let out a small moan at his touch, and Yu smirked into the kiss. 

   But it certainly didn’t help (or you know what? Maybe it did!) when Kanji subtly sneaked his hand under your boxers and began to play with the hem of your underwear. 

   Oh God, you felt like the steam was starting to come back inside the room. For all you knew, you were probably in heaven. But this was sinful.

   Yu eventually pulled away, and a string of saliva followed. With the smirk still plastered on his lips, he whispered, “I think it’s time we take (Y/N) upstairs to our bedroom and have them perform just for us. Isn’t that right, Kanji?” 

   Said boy looked at Yu and had the same smirk. “Hell yeah.”

   And before you could say anything, Kanji lifted you into his arms and carried you bridal-style. It prompted you to let out a squeal. 

   Yu chuckled. “That’s a cute noise you made there, (N/N). Although, you’re cute all the time. And don’t go denying it.” 

   ‘Oh, God damn it!’

   “Damn right, they’re always cute!” Kanji agreed.

   Yu nodded. “But enough talk about that. How about we head up to our room now? And don’t worry, (Y/N). We’ll take real good care of you, we promise.” 

   A clenching feeling was building up in your stomach, but there was also some excitement. So with a nod and a flustered face, you allowed Kanji to carry you upstairs with Yu following behind the both of you. You had the feeling you were going to be sweating a lot in the next few hours. Again, not just because of the hot temperature. 

   Not that you minded.

-

(**) if you watch the music video for the song and go to the 1:37 timestamp, you’ll see the move i’m referencing (i’m not a dancer so i’m not good at explaining dance moves LOL). here’s the link if you wanna watch it. but as an fyi, it’s quite short.  

[randomficsandshit]

Bellarke Fic Rec

*NONE OF THESE FICS ARE MINE*

Please do not forget. I have not written any of these. I’m simply recommending favorites of mine over the years. If you love something, send the author your love, not me :) and if any links don’t work, send me a message and I’ll see what i can do, this is a pretty old list 

There's A Nap For That 

Word Count: 6k+

AU. Based on that post: "If you both agree to take a nap instead of going out, it’s a date." Or: The one where Bellamy and Clarke keep taking naps together. You know, platonically. See also: Let Them Rest.

If You Wear A Dress and Have an Animal Sidekick, You Are a Princess

Word Count: 3k+

AU. Bellamy can't not take care of every animal he sees, and Clarke can't not find it endearing.

*Mouth Like Heaven, Kisses Like Stars

Word Count: 4k+

His eyebrows are knitted together in a slight frown, the kind he usually gets when he’s trying to work out a difficult problem. Finally, he meets her eyes again and says, almost hesitantly underneath his mask of bravado, “Well, I’m always here to lend a helping hand if you need it, princess.” Clarke actually chokes this time, and it feels like all the breath has been knocked out of her. -or, the time when everything goes downhill and bellamy just goes down.

Wingwoman 

Word Count: 1k+

AU. Clarke didn't think she'd need a wingwoman at the park playground when she's babysitting her one-year-old niece, but then Bellamy Blake strolls up, and Amelia rises to the occasion, luckily for her.

When Love Hits (Better Make It Worth The Fall)

Word Count: 4k+

AU. (She's All That) Four times Clarke gets hit on the head (+1 time she doesn't) during her last semester of high school, and every single time, Bellamy Blake is somehow involved.

All This Time

Word Count: 5k+

AU. Four times Bellamy innocently kisses Clarke, + one time he doesn't.

Take This Heart

Word Count: ~

clarke moves into bellamy's room. this is both soft and full of disdain for clarke's terrible... everything in season 3

You're Cool On The Internet, At Least

Word Count: 9k+

AU. Look, Clarke will not dwell on this. She will not get flustered just because a possibly cute guy on Facebook apparently shares her views on what constitutes a terrible person.

(Or: Clarke meets Bellamy on Facebook. They hit it off.)

(One of my personal favs)

We Came Out On Top

Word Count: 11k+

AU. “How can you guys be all like this and then be at each other’s throats during trivia night?” “Because it’s trivia night,” both Bellamy and Clarke said at the same time, sharing the same why don’t you get it tone. Bellamy, Clarke, and the trivia night rivalries only they care about.

She Does What The Night Does To The Day

Word Count: 5k+

AU. He assumes she would just giggle and continue petting him while saying how pretty he is, but instead, she pulls back with what might have been a leer had she not been three sheets to the wind, and says, “Your body is 65% water and I’m thirsty.” And then if that wasn’t bad enough, she stumbles out of his arms and fucking winks at him. Or at least he thinks it’s a wink. She used both eyes instead of one. or, the one where Bellamy is woefully and terribly oblivious.

The Giant Squid's Got Nothing On You

Word Count: 6k+

AU. Objectively, Clarke knows she’s probably right, but she still can’t help but lift her chin determinedly and say, “He is not going to find it.” She can barely hear her scoff in reply over the din of the cafe. “Yeah right,” says Raven, “The internet is forever, Clarke Griffin. He will find it eventually.” or, Clarke finds her new muse at the local cafe

Alone Together 

Word Count: 11k+

AU. Clarke shows up at Bellamy’s apartment at exactly two minutes to midnight on a Thursday. He's not sure how she ends up staying the night — or why he doesn't turn her away, when it happens again. And again.

Cold As The Wind Blows (so hold me in your arms)

Word Count: 3k+

AU. Clarke gets trapped in the storage room overnight, but at least she's not by herself.

Tequila Regrets

Word Count: 6k+

AU. Clarke and Bellamy have been roommates for a while, and Clarke has been in love with him for almost as long, but when she finds out that his terror of a boss has marked him as her next conquest, Clarke offers to pose as his fake girlfriend for the staff Christmas party to scare her off. She did not think this all the way through.

Mutual

Word Count: 6k+

AU. As acts of rebellion go, Clarke knows that getting a tumblr is both minor and pathetic. But it's her secret, her own tiny, online space where no one knows she's Clarke Griffin, Hollywood A-lister. She's just some nobody with like five followers and opinions no one cares about. And then she makes a friend.

Wish On Everything

Word Count: 11k+

AU. It's not as if Bellamy wanted anything bad to happen to his mother. All he wanted was to get custody of his little sister, so he'd know she was taken care of. And after eight years, he's basically given up all hope of that. Then his mother does die, and social services tells him he gets Octavia.

Legs Crossed Towards Each Other 

Word Count: 7k+

It starts with Raven wanting to set up Mr. Sinclair, out of what are probably genuinely good intentions. It's everyone else who turns it into a massive headache for Bellamy.

What The Hell Is The Catch? 

Word Count: 6k+

Bellamy gets tickets to take his AP US History kids to Hamilton, and Clarke figures he's going to need a chaperone. She's happy to help out. And if he says she owes him for it? Totally worth it.

If You Wanna Reach Me

Word Count: 5k+

AU. Clarke: So yeah, in the dream it's like We're in New York, I think. I'm not really sure, but you know how it is when it's a dream and you just know something. So we're in New York.

Jasper: whos we??????

Clarke: Most of us, I think? It's always kind of hard to remember when it's a dream. Like I just thought "everyone's here!" but I mostly interacted with Bellamy.

Raven: did u mean: real life

Time Enough For Rocking When We're Old

Word Count: 14k+

boston > boston/camb/brook > housing > apts by owner $2-300 Roxbury small room in 3-br 1-bath house, spouse preferred (Roxbury) Pair of siblings looking for housemate. Due to extenuating circumstances I will share with interested parties, I would prefer a roommate who is willing to get married for legitimate personal reasons that do not include sex or anything sketchy. If not interested in marriage, room still available for $300/month plus utilities. Pets okay, no smokers, NO DRUG USE. Please don't just email me to tell me this is fucked up, I know it is, you really don't have to tell me. If you are interested in the marriage part, a female spouse is preferred, but male would be okay too. I promise I will explain this if you really want details, but I'm not putting it online. Serious inquiries only.

Must Love Intersectionality 

Word Count: 2k+

AU. Bellamy hates his stupid history of colonialism class, until he makes a friend. Weirdly, the friend isn't actually in his class, they just share the same desk and like to write angry notes about the patriarchy. Bellamy's a fan.

Regardless Of Warnings, The Future Doesn't Scare Me At All

Word Count: 20k+

AU. 2 Chapters. After an argument with her mother about her unplanned pregnancy, Clarke Griffin ends up back in the small town where her father used to live, spilling her sob story to a sympathetic bartender. And then, somehow, she ends up moving in with the bartender and her brother.

(You Might Find) You Get What You Need

Word Count: 20k+

AU. Clarke needs a date to her ex's sister's wedding, and she's at the point of hiring someone off the internet when Octavia points out that her brother is always looking for money. So Clarke takes him instead.

Just As You Are 

Word Count: 10k+

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single Clarke Griffin in need of a Latin tutorial partner will always end up paired with Bellamy Blake.

I've Been Dreaming Of You From The Other Side (I Know You So Well)

Word Count: 17k+

AU. Ten years ago, Clarke found out she had superpowers. Now she's all ready to start a new life: English teacher by day, vigilante by night. All she has to do is figure out how to be a superhero, avoid getting caught and shipped off by mandatory metahuman registration, and not strangle the stupid history teacher down the hall. It'll be fun.

She's Touching His Chest Now, He Takes Off Her Dress Now

Word Count: 26k+

If Clarke had thought arguments could actually lead to switching bodies with someone, she wouldn't have been surprised this one really did. But since that's actually impossible, waking up as Bellamy Blake is still a shock.

I Know That Fortune Is Waiting To Be Kind

Word Count: 20k+

When Bellamy is eleven, his mother dies, and he finds out his father was a prince, which makes him a prince too, albeit a bastard prince. And when he's twelve, his family decides he would be a good candidate for marriage to Princess Clarke of Arcadia. Princess Clarke thinks so too, but only because he agrees to come back in ten years and help her make sure the wedding never takes place. It seems like a really good deal, when he's twelve.

And Dream How Wonderful Your Life Will Be

Word Count: 19k+

Clarke has known Bellamy Blake for two months when she finds out two completely unexpected things about him: he's married, and he has an eight-year-old son. He's also getting a divorce and he needs a roommate, and she's got a spot. It's complicated.

One Deep Breath and One Big Step

Word Count: 17k+

Clarke Griffin has been groomed for Ark University and Sigma Kappa Upsilon sorority since she was a kid, and she's a little annoyed to discover, upon getting to college, that she really does like Sig-Kap. That she wants to pledge. There's just this weird thing where they don't seem to like her new friend Bellamy.

Write What You Know

Word Count: 13k+

Bellamy understands every individual choice that got him to this point. He started writing erotica to make some extra money, he didn't correct the assumption that he was a woman, made up some facts about his new persona, and now his publisher wants him to start making public appearances, so he needs someone to be that persona. And Clarke really is the logical choice. It all makes sense to him, when he thinks about it, but he will admit it is incredibly weird. Luckily, Clarke's still got his back.

When Can I See You Again? 

Word Count: 13k+

Bellamy doesn't recognize a lot of people he meets at conventions, even if he's met them a lot. It's just hard to keep track. But the girl who comes once or twice a year is pretty easy to remember. And that's before her foster mom shows up in a panic because she took a bus to Vegas alone. After that happens, it's basically all over.

But They Ain't Doing It Right

Word Count: 14k+

“So,” he begins, running a hand through his hair. It’s a lost cause trying to work it back into some semblance of order. “What is this?” “What do you mean?” He doesn’t meet her eye when he says, “Once is a mistake, twice is a pattern,” too busy picking at a loose thread in his hem. “Wanna go three times and just make it a habit?” she jokes weakly, and his head snaps back up, eyes boring into hers. She flushes under the intensity of his gaze. “Actually,” he begins slowly, “That doesn’t sound that bad.” or, the friends with benefits au that got away from me

Phone A Friend

Word Count: 7k+

Clarke does not ask Bellamy for tips on having a threesome because she's hoping to have a threesome with him. He's just the only person she knows personally who has actually had a threesome, so he seems like her best resource. And when the opportunity to have a threesome with him presents itself, it's not like she's going to just say no.

I'm Swept Away and My Heart Ensnared 

Word Count: 15k+

Raven hums low in her throat. “Well, at least Bellamy can make it up in time. So you won’t get too axe murdered.” Clarke wrinkles her nose, leaning on the banister of the upstairs porch. From here she can see the ocean, just a five minute walk away, and she breathes in brine soaked air. “He’s still coming?” “What do you mean if he’s still coming? He didn’t say anything otherwise.” She shifts from foot to foot, feeling herself colour slightly even though there’s no one there to see her. “I just assumed that because you and Miller couldn’t make it up anymore he wouldn’t come today.” “Why the hell did you think that?” “Because Bellamy and I aren’t exactly friends, Raven." or, Bellamy Blake and Clarke Griffin don't really like each other. Or at least that's what they tell themselves.

Afraid To Call This Place Our Own 

Word Count: 22k+ 

(Single mom!Clarke and Teacher!Bellamy, with the usual angsty shenanigans.)

And Are We There Yet (Home) 

Word Count: 2k+

A Bellamy POV and mini sequel to afraid to call this place our own. (this shit made me cry) 

Bloodstains and Innocence: A Clarke Griffin Mystery

Word Count: 27k+

Police Chief Clarke Griffin knows three things: 1) Charles Pike is dead. 2) Octavia Blake is the prime suspect. 3) Bellamy Blake a giant pain in the ass with no business being involved in a murder investigation, and yet here he is, working the case alongside her. A hurricane is approaching the sleepy little island of Arkadia, NC as evidence begins to mount against Octavia and Clarke wrestles with her increasingly complicated relationship with Bellamy, all while trying to answer one simple question: Who killed Charles Pike?

Is There An IUD That Can Stop The Image of You and Me? 

Word Count: 8k+

It's probably impossible to be friends with benefits with someone who might not even count as a friend, but "lab partners with benefits" isn't a thing yet. So that's probably the right term. Whatever it is, Clarke's enjoying it. As long as she ignores the whole feelings thing.

I’m Gonna Leave You Anyway

Word Count: 65k+

Modern AU inspired by the show You're the Worst, where Bellamy and Clarke hook up after a wedding.

                  And You Can Have This Heart To Break

Word Count: 37k+

Clarke knows she's being a little over-dramatic in her complaining about having to move to Maine, but it does seem pretty unreasonable of her mother to drag her to a small town in the middle of nowhere for the three months between high-school graduation and her starting college. As it turns out, the summer is great. It's just the summer ending that's the problem.

Museums and Mistletoe 

Word Count: 1k+

Clarke buys Bellamy a museum ticket for Christmas and he acts like it’s the best gift he’s ever received. She buys one for herself too, because she knows none of their other friends have the time to go—finding a day they can all get together to exchange gifts is hard enough—and if it gets her an uninterrupted afternoon with her best friend and all around favorite asshole, she’s definitely not complaining.

When In Brome

Word Count: 57k+

Octavia is the one who tells Clarke about "Untitled Gladiator Project," because she thinks Bellamy wants to be on it, and also thinks Clarke is the one who will be able to convince him to do it. Plus, it turns out Clarke actually needs to be involved, because all of the gladiators are required to have girlfriends with them, and, honestly, the more she hears about it, the more of a mess it seems like. On the other hand, it sounds kind of hilarious, and definitely right up Bellamy's alley, so there's probably no harm in trying out. It might be fun.

It’s All Internet Interaction

Word Count: 11k+

Bellamy is less than pleased when soap opera star Clarke Griffin lands the lead role in the Callister reboot. So, naturally, he writes about it. It’s not supposed to blow up. She’s not supposed to respond to it either, but here they are.

Just Dive Right In (And Follow My Lead)

Word Count: 24k+

Clarke Griffin needs a partner. Bellamy Blake just happens to walk into her rink. (Or: Bellamy and Clarke as ice dancing partners, training together through the years to the Olympics.)

Sleight Of Hand

Word Count: 56k+

Notorious criminal prodigy Bellamy Blake has been tasked with a seemingly impossible heist. Luckily enough, he just might have the right crew for it. *Personal Favorite*

And Then We Were Chasing Comets

Word Count: 21k+

If you told Clarke Griffin that she would become best friends with the resident black sheep of Arkadia, she would have difficulty believing it, let alone the fact that he apparently wrote an entire book about her. (Or: Clarke and Bellamy through the years, as childhood best friends.)

See Me In Hindsight 

Word Count: 16k+

“You’re kind of a mess,” He says mildly. “Thanks captain obvious.” The corners of his mouth twitch a little, like he’s holding back a smile. She is not remotely pleased by that. Not at all. Or, the one where they're project partners and maybe, perhaps, friends. (And maybe, perhaps, more.)

Challenge Accepted

Word Count: 30k+

He doesn't even like Clarke Griffin, he's pretty sure he hates how easy everything has come to her. So imagine his surprise when he finds himself at their office party looking through dick pics on her phone. “You can do better, Princess. In fact, I can do better.” As soon as she turns to him with raised eyebrows and an open mouthed grin he knows he’s said too much but she’s not going to let it drop. “Oh really, you think you can do better, Blake?” And he's never backed down from a challenge in his life.

Found Myself In A Second 

Word Count: 5k+

The one where Clarke finds a lost wallet belonging to one Bellamy Blake.

Every Rose Can Sting You 

Word Count: 15k+

Clarke expected to encounter annoying guys when she got forced into becoming the Bachelorette, but she didn't realise that the most annoying of them all would be the head cameraman. Because seriously, Bellamy Blake is a total prick. It's a good thing there's absolutely no chance of her ever actually liking him, because boy, would that be inconvenient…

Choking On Your Alibis 

Word Count: 7k+

Bellamy gets a girlfriend and Clarke handles it spectacularly well

[lucas-koh]

Stitches - Bryce Lahela x MC XII

Parts 1-11 linked in bio!

Somewhat canon compliant.

Rating: M, mentions of medical misdemeanour, implied sex, language

Song: Do I Wanna Know (Live At The BBC) - Hozier

Word Count: 3367

Taglist: @lahellacute @lahamseiroshoe @anotherbeingsworld @fuseboxmusebox @choicesficwriterscreations @bubblelaureno @bratzlahela @eleanorbloom @bryceslahela @thegreentwin @kelseaaa || please let me know if you would like to be added to or removed from this list

Chapter Twelve: An Inconvenient Truth

So. Denial hadn’t been working. At this point Suki had to admit to herself her crush on Bryce. She had no clue what to do. She should end it, right? It wouldn’t be fair on him. He hadn’t signed up for this and they’d made it pretty clear they didn’t want this to happen.

Suki hadn’t had feelings for anyone in such a long time that it had never seemed possible to her. She’d never dreamed she’d end up feeling some type of way for Bryce Lahela. The moment she felt that déjà vu she should’ve run for the hills. Maybe in hindsight the whole thing was a mistake, but it was too late now.

She was laying there in his bed, on his chest, wearing his pyjamas. She definitely wasn’t doing herself any favours right at that moment.

She wanted to stay there forever, enveloped in his smell and his warm skin and the light breeze of his breaths on her forehead; the soft cotton of his pyjamas, the dizzying sensation of his arm on her waist.

But god, Bryce really hadn’t bargained for this. She had to get out of there before she drove herself crazy or overstayed her welcome. Or worse, drove him away. Because although it might not have been what was best for her after the revelation, all Suki wanted was to keep Bryce in her life.

“Thank you so much. Again. But I oughta get out of your hair.” She started to lift herself off him, dreaming up reluctance as his arm fell away from her.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want. You said you had today off too, right? You must be feeling pretty rough,” he chuckled.

“Thank you for offering but really. I should go home.” Should more than you know. Should for my own sanity. Should because it’s the right thing to do when it was me who fucked up.

Bryce left her to it as she changed out of his pyjamas – slowly, she was hungover as hell – and back into the clothes that were strewn across Bryce’s kitchen.

“I’ll wash your underwear for you,” he offered, as they had been caught in the crossfire of her vomit. She could tell it was a serious offer despite the smug smirk painted on his face.

Stop it! Stop it stop it stop it! “No, you won’t. I have a washing machine at home.”

She collected them from him in a plastic bag, how embarrassing.

Imagine making such a state of yourself? I’m twenty-fucking-eight years old and I drank too much because I was afraid to admit I might have some stupid schoolgirl crush on my fuck buddy? Have you ever seen anything more tragic? And now he’s fucking handing me my sick-soaked underwear in a plastic fucking bag. Like a fucking child. A child who threw up at school and had to go home early and get picked up by their mom. And now I can’t stop fucking cursing myself for putting myself in this position. If there was ever any moment at all that he maybe saw me as more than a fuck, that moment was lost now.

So Suki left, her head spinning and not just because of an asshole of a hangover.

Maybe it was just a temporary baseless infatuation. Maybe Suki shouldn’t have been jumping to such drastic measures…

So that - Suki’s denial and clinging on to the hope that she could find a way to continue this – was how Suki and Bryce ended up continuing to sleep together throughout the month of February. But the longer it went on, the more sure Suki was that this addicting feeling when she thought of him was sticking around. And it wasn’t fair on him.

She kept thinking about it, considering her options, making the excuse that she didn’t want to jump into the wrong decision. So yeah, she kept sleeping with him. And no, there was no way in hell Suki was admitting to Bryce that she was into him.

She’d been afraid to contact him after everything that had happened, the amount of embarrassment she’d caused for herself, but he was the one to reach out first. It surprised Suki that he even wanted anything to do with her after all that.

“How’s your hand?” He’d asked the first time since the incident, picking up her wrist and investigating the healing.

“It’s okay, it doesn’t hurt much any more.” The wound was scarring to scab and itch.

“It’s looking good.”

“I guess I have your skills to thank.”

“How many times have I told you?” He grinned, “I’m a talented guy.”

They’d become comfortable with one another, really comfortable, and the friend part of friend with benefits could no longer be ignored.

Suki’s problem? Bryce was impossible to get a read on. She had absolutely no idea to tell if her newfound feelings were reciprocated, because he was a huge flirt to everyone. And Suki wasn’t one to take risks. So she didn’t say anything, assumed Bryce felt the same as he ever had for her.

She was right, of course, but not in the way she expected.

A few nights into the month Bryce texted:

Scalpel Jockey: *sigh* i should call her😉

Bryce’s text was accompanied by a selfie taken in front of his toilet, wide grin and thumb up. So embarrassing. He’d been right about the blackmail thing, then. He wasn’t going to let the mess I was go.

Santa Fe: you’re not even using the meme right

Scalpel Jockey: well my toilet misses your mouth so be sure to come visit it tomorrow

Santa Fe: you think you’re going to get laid after reminding me of the most embarrassing night of my life?

Over-exaggeration. But it honestly sort of felt that way.

Scalpel Jockey: of course I will😏

Santa Fe: nope

Scalpel Jockey:👀😌🤨

The next day,

Santa Fe: fine. see u soon.

—-

“Owwww somethings digging into my back!” Bryce yelped as he’d rolled away from Suki. He did some odd contortions to reach underneath himself and grab whatever was causing the grievance. “Suki, why the hell is your id badge in my bed?”

“Uh, maybe because you chucked it into the abyss a minute ago.”

He gave her a look with pursed lips. He rolled to his side facing away from Suki.

“Aww, you look so cute in this. All innocent and shit.”

“Give it back.”

“I mean it! Look at that little face,” he cooed, brushing the image with his thumb.

“It’s really not my best picture at all,” she groaned. What was it about ID card images which made them always turn out terrible? And then one is left with said image for potentially years to come.

“Suki, this says your birthday is January 18th? You didn’t say anything?” He turned to face her.

“January was so busy, I wasn’t that fussed.”

“You should’ve said. I would’ve celebrated with you.”

“Birthday sex?” She laughed.

“No, like proper birthday stuff. Whatever you like doing on them. And then maybe some birthday sex,” he added with a smirk.

“Eh. It was fine, I just got takeout.”

Bryce tutted.

“When’s your birthday, then?”

Suddenly he looked bashful and uneasy. “Um. November 27th.”

“Oh my god. You’re an idiot.”

“Nah. I’m a Sagittarius,” he winked.

“I can’t believe you were trying to make me feel guilty for not mentioning my birthday when you didn’t either.”

“We actually spent it together. That day I looked after Tommy. I had a great time.”

“Oh.” He had to stop saying things like that. It was terrible for her heart. “I can’t believe you let me set a random kid on you for your birthday.”

“I said I had a great time didn’t I?”

And god Suki’s stomach was having a party, an anxiety-ridden, nerves-on-fire, doubt-clad, smitten-as-shit party.

—-

In no time at all It was Valentine’s Day. Not that Suki was paying any attention… or that she wanted to spend it with a certain god-like surgeon. She didn’t even need to mention it, the plan was just act like this was any other hookup. February 14th was just a day – the way we ascribe time only exists because of us; and therefore it’s just a normal hookup. Using existentialism to cure crush nerves? Surprisingly works.

Santa Fe: 👃

Scalpel Jockey: sorry sukes i’m sick🤒

Well. That was not what she was expecting.

But wait. What if he was faking? What if he knew it was Valentine’s Day and was worried Suki was trying to make a gesture and had to let her down easy?

Worse, what if he was spending Valentine’s with someone else? After all, they had agreed not to be exclusive. Shit. What if Bryce liked someone else?? She didn’t even think about it before and now she felt a bit sick. He was an insanely attractive guy – chances were even without time to meet people there would be plenty at the hospital falling at his feet. There was no way he hadn’t been asked out for Valentine’s.

Those worries were quelled by another text, a picture of Bryce’s legs in his bed and the TV at the end playing something. There was a small bag full of used tissues.

Bless him, he really is sick.

Suki knew what she had to do.

Clanging about in the kitchen she muscled up some veg-packed soup, a vegetable lasagne, and a vegetable stir-fry. She also blended a fruit smoothie. Then she packed everything into Tupperware and fit a couple of portions of each into an insulated container.

Suki marched over to Bryce’s with the insulated container full of her cooked meals and determination. God, I’m a simp.

When she arrived she knocked hard so that he could hear. It was a couple of minutes before Suki heard footsteps, then they stopped (presumably for Bryce to look through the fish-eye) before Bryce creaked the door open.

“Suki. Didn’t you get my text, I’m sick I can’t-“ his voice was weak and croaky, slightly nasal – and he definitely sounded ill.

“I know. I’m not here for that. I bought you these,” she held up the insulated bag.

“What is it?”

“Food. Meals. Because you’re sick and you can’t cook. It’s just simple immune-boosting stuff,” she held out the bag for him to take.

He sniffed loudly and opened the door wider. “Come in.”

She was going to protest, but for some reason she didn’t. The plan was just to drop the food off, not to come in. But when faced with the opportunity Suki’s legs carried her subconsciously. When Bryce opened the door up for her she could see him closer. Dark bags under his eyes, greasy hair, chapped lips. He was wearing sweatpants (similar to the pair Suki had tucked away in her drawer at home from Christmas), and a cotton t shirt. He looked rough. Somehow, he was still the most beautiful man she’d ever met. And seeing him like this wasn’t off-putting at all, it just made her want to look after him. Be there for him. Why am I willing to do so much for him? Liking people is a bit like giving away your soul, isn’t it?

“You get back into bed and I’ll heat one of these up for you. They should still be mostly warm, anyway.”

“Sukes, I’ll be fine,” he said nasally. The nickname sent Suki’s organs into overdrive. Because here he was at his lowest, referring to Suki with an affectionate moniker and sounding like a melancholic song.

“I kind of owe you, remember?”

Bryce hummed a nod, too tired for much else, and slunk back into his bedroom.

Suki busied herself checking all the Tupperware’s – they were cool enough to go in the freezer by then so she put all bar one away. She heated that one for a few moments and transferred it into a bowl with cutlery, planted that on a tray, and brought it through to Bryce.

He was in bed as Suki had instructed, old reruns of Criminal Minds playing on his TV. He smiled weakly when he saw her enter with the tray of soup.

“Thank you,” he said as she placed the tray on his lap.

“No problem.”

He took a spoon of soup and gulped it down gently. Then he turned to Suki, who was now perched lightly on the edge of his bed facing him.

“I’m not good with… seeming weak,” he said, looking at Suki intensely.

“You don’t need to worry about that. It’s only me. I vomited in your toilet.”

“Exactly,” he muttered, and when Suki was about ask what he meant he carried on, “this soup is amazing.”

They sat in silence with only the sounds of the TV as Bryce worked his way through the bowl of soup. Suki was too nervous to ask what he’d meant.

“Thank you,” he said as he finished the bowl. She took the tray from him and took it back through to the kitchen, washing everything up for him. She returned to Bryce’s room, noting beads of sweat on his forehead. Going into Bryce’s en-suite, Suki found a washcloth and soaked it with some cold water before giving it a squeeze.

When she returned to Bryce’s side she gently dabbed the washcloth over his hot forehead. He looked up at her, vulnerable, exhausted – very un-Bryce. She was ever so gentle as she dabbed the cool cloth over his skin. Then Bryce reached up and held onto her wrist weakly with his hand.

“Why are you doing all this?”

“Like I said, I owe you. I was hard work that night at yours.”

He seemed to accept this answer, and gulped a little as he let go of her wrist. She pulled the cloth from his forehead for a moment.

“I’m still nervous,” he croaked.

“About?”

“You seeing me like this. It’s not exactly sexy.”

Suki’s nosiness was getting the better of her, and she knew now would be a good time to strike since there’d been an opening.

“The whole… weakness thing – that’s why you were weird about the surgery?”

“Yeah. Yeah it is,” he sighed, looking at Suki as though weighing up his options. He seemed to come to a decision and continued: “I already went through struggles with self doubt. My parents fucked up my whole belief in myself - it’s why I overcompensate now. It’s why I took the surgery thing so hard, I felt myself doubting my abilities. Well it was more like – less that I was actually doubting myself, because I know I’m good, and more that I was worried I would start doubting myself.”

“Yeah, that totally makes sense.” Suki was surprised he was opening up to her like this. She noticed how he mentioned his parents, but she’d let him get there when he was was ready.

“I’m sorry for not telling you at the time.”

“It’s okay, I wasn’t owed the story. So what really happened? You got kicked off because of karaoke?”

“Uh, the other surgical interns kind of have it out for me.”

“What?”

“Well… everyone liked me at first. You know, I’m a likeable guy,” he flashed a grin, a ghost of his normal megawatt smile, “but I think once they saw how competent and determined I was that changed fast.”

“Jealousy,” she scoffed, “So that’s why you don’t hang out with them any more?” Suki remembered how he’d avoided them at Halloween.

“Yeah. And there was a group of them spreading shit from the start about me, dangerous rumours that could get me fired. Saying I drink on the job, I have *ahem* sexual relationships with my patients, that I’m a terrible surgeon and only made it here because of my parents money which is...”

“Your parents are well off?”

Bryce’s jaw tightened. “Yeah, uh, people found out about who my parents are too.”

“Who are they?”

“Another time,” he bit his lip as though unsure, concern as he looked into Suki’s face.

“Okay- drinking at work, sex with patients? Where the hell did those come from?”

“Well I keep a few condoms in my locker, for you, that can’t have looked great after the accusations. I don’t know shit about the drinking. I guess it just sounded bad and anyone who has had out it for me just wants me to look incompetent.”

“Those fucking dicks.”

Bryce shrugged. “It shows I’m a major threat,” he gave her a smug grin but his heart wasn’t quite in it. “So all that stuff got relayed back to Dr Emery and the karaoke the night before was apparently the last straw. She didn’t want to take the risk in case it was true and gave my surgery to Ben.”

“Ben, huh?” She asked, a sudden iciness in her tone. Like, Ben ‘you like her?’ Ben? Digging into Bryce’s private life Ben?

“Yeah, he’s another intern - you probably don’t know him.”

Maybe not. But I’m about to.

“I know some Ben’s… what’s his last name?”

“White.”

“Oh no, I don’t know him,” Suki smiled sweetly, dabbing Bryce’s head with the flannel again. She’d gotten the information she needed.

Bryce chuckled weakly. “I told you.”

“Sorry.”

“Yeah so, obviously Dr Emery investigated it all after that and realised that none of it was true. But by then I’d lost it anyway. The damage was done, you know? Sorry, I know I sound a bit ‘woe is me’.”

“Not at all. You can talk to me, seriously. Friends – remember? I’m so sorry you had to go through that.” And angrier than I’m letting on.

“I suppose I owe you an apology too. For shutting you down and running away when you tried to ask me about it. I’m just- it’s- I like being That Guy, you know? The one who’s got his shit together. The one who’s the expert surgeon. Who doesn’t let things phase him. Laughs everything off. The one who’s amazing in bed,” he looked at her with a look that was, if Suki didn’t know any better, nervous. God, it’s so weird seeing him like this. But my heart is completely breaking for him.

“If I’m-“ he continued, then seemed to change his mind, “what you need from me wasn’t that, so I didn’t want to mess things up.”

“By being human? You could never,” she smiled as she bought the flannel back to his face, but it was more an excuse to stroke her finger over his cheek comfortingly. Bryce’s eyes seemed to shut involuntarily and he moved into her touch, just letting it be for a while. He was still hot, but had a bit more colour to his face, so Suki felt she had helped at least a little.

Fuck. I like you so much.

This definitely wasn’t helping her whole predicament, because each word he’d said to her, each touch, each look on his face – and she was a puddle on the floor. Overwhelmed with the ache she felt in her chest at the whole situation. That something as ridiculous as jealousy – between people who’s job it was to help others for gods sake – had put Bryce in such a spin. And it seemed to her that losing the surgery was bad for him, but the way that affected his confidence and how he felt he had to be around her – that seemed to have affected him more.

He was too proud.

And she cared for him too much to be okay with seeing him like this.

Suki must’ve been cradling Bryce’s face longer than she’d realised, because he eventually started snoring quietly. His eyebrows now flattened on his face and looking more at peace than he had since she’d arrived. She was careful when removing her hand and placing a pillow up under his head. She placed a gentle kiss to his forehead, brushing against the cool damp area she’d been dabbing. Then she snuck into his bathroom to fill up a glass of water and collect some aspirin, leaving them on his bedside table for him before escaping his apartment.

Suki was on a mission, fuelled by affection and anger.

[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 ❋

[tisfan]

Turn Down for What

Title Turn Down for What Collaborator(s) @tisfan​ / @27dragons​ @monobuu​ Link https://archiveofourown.org/works/23545609 Square Filled Tisfan: U2: Bucky/Tony / 27dragons: K4 - I Regret Nothing / monobuu - just wanted an excuse to draw Bucky in pink speedos Ship/Main Pairing Bucky/Tony Rating - Mature Major Tags/Triggers/Warnings: Meet cute, sexy dancing, revealing clothing Summary Tony’s driving down an unfamiliar road after a very frustrating day when he sees something... unusual. After that, things look up considerably. Word Count 1573

for @buckybarnesbingo​

It had been an utterly lousy day. The new alloy he’d been working on had turned out to be roughly as brittle as an eggshell, rendering it utterly useless. He’d gotten dragged into R&D to baby Team Four through trying to hold their own cocks. He’d rounded a corner too quickly and collided with a messenger hurrying in the opposite direction, which had resulted in him spilling his lunch all over his new suit. Curry stained, damn it.

And to top it all off, the new body armor contract that he’d been working for... had been awarded to fucking Hammertech.

So yeah, he had taken out one of his cars and cranked the music to eleven and was cruising the streets singing along at the top of his lungs, because the only other alternative was to scream in frustration.

On the plus side, he'd been working out of the upstate facility, otherwise he might well be sitting in traffic and screaming. 

Instead, he'd managed to find a nice bit of back road where he could dial everything up to eleven.

Which is why he was pretty sure he hadn't seen what he thought he saw.

A blur of pink and skin and lime green… he wasn't entirely sure that person wasn't entirely naked on the side of the road...

Startled -- apparently there were surprises still to be found on New York’s streets -- he slowed down a little. Enough to try to get a look.

Not naked. But all but. And emphases on the butt part of that sentence, since what Tony was seeing was someone's butt. Wearing a hot pink pair of Speedos. Lime green running shoes, and thick brown hair tied up in a half bun. 

Speedo jogged across the street and then did some very flexible stretches, holding on to a light pole.

He seemed in very good shape. Very bendy.

Tony couldn’t quite help himself; he got to the next intersection and made a U-turn, because Speedo was worth a second look.

And a third, and possibly fourth look as well. He was just coming out of his stretch when Tony got back around. Beautiful, really, with sharp cheekbones and a full mouth and a cleft chin. 

He glanced at the car, squinted, then grinned, dropped his hips and executed a -- perfectly in rhythm with Tony's music -- a Beyonce video worthy pop and swing, arms moving to show off biceps, hips jutting to show off everything else.

Okay, yeah, there was no way Tony was driving on by with that kind of show. He pulled to a stop and rolled the window down, the better to share the music, and let himself ogle. No man dressed like that could possibly not want to be stared at, right?

Speedo gave him a quick look, then continued to dance, lithesome and seductive and absolutely beat perfect. Muscles gleamed in the afternoon sunlight, lined with sweat. He danced all the way around Tony's car, shaking his hips, and ended up back in front.

Where he backed up that ass and treated Tony to an enthusiastic twerk. The music wound down and the dancer gave Tony a little wave with two fingers before jogging off down a side street, backside jiggling the whole way.

For half a second, Tony debated following him, but that would be creepy, right? Even allowing for the fact that the guy was running around public streets with the ugliest shoes Tony had seen since the 80s and a neon banana hammock.

At least his mood had brightened some and the day had not entirely sucked.

He hit the horn twice as he drove by the side street and headed for home.

 The next day was better. And yet, Tony found himself climbing into the car and heading toward that back road.

He told himself that the drive had cleared his thoughts and let him focus better.

He told himself that the cars needed to be driven to keep them in good working order.

He told himself that it was too pretty a day to stay inside.

But he couldn’t deny, as he turned down the street, that he was watching the side of the road for a flash of neon and skin.

The line green shoes were the same, but this time he was wearing some sort of tiger striped compression shorts and a black mesh shirt. When Tony pulled up behind him, he came to an abrupt halt, putting one hand to his ear. Turn down for what?

Tony laughed and cranked his music up, letting the bass thump through his bones like a massage.

The dancer was no less enthused than the day before. Given that he was dancing in running shoes, he still resembled a reject-from-the-80's ballet dancer, his core muscles obvious even through the mesh. He'd produced a pair of sunglasses from somewhere and was using them as a prop. Those bedroom eyes were something else, and the way he could dance without taking his gaze off Tony's face...

Tony was breathing harder, just watching him.

Tony couldn’t resist rolling his window down as the song ended. “You dance like that for all the boys?”

"You were playin' my song," he said, panting for breath. "Yesterday, I mean."

“Yeah? And what about today?”

He shrugged one shoulder, which made his body move enticingly. “You came back for a repeat performance. Wouldn’t want t’ cheat ya.”

“You knew it was me again?” Tony tipped his head, studying the guy. “Not too creepy?”

“I knew it was you,” the man said. “You’re driving a Zenvo ST1. All the horsepower goes to the rear wheels, which makes for a real distinctive engine purr. I could hear ya almost a block away. And that’s not to mention the music.” He winked. “Not too creepy. You start throwing one dollar bills out the window on th’ way by, that might be creepy.”

Tony scoffed. “If I start throwing bills, they’ll be better than ones. Especially for someone as talented as you.”

“Yeah? I’ll tell the troop leader you said so. Recommended, move Barnes out of the chorus line and into a lead role, according to--” He waved a hand at Tony as if for an introduction.

“Tony.” He offered a hand through the window.

“Nice to meet you, Tony,” he said, taking Tony’s hand. “James Barnes, although my friends call me Bucky.”

“Should I ask why they call you that?” Tony wondered. Bucky had a nice hand, firm and not too smooth. A little sweaty, but Tony had interrupted his workout.

“Probably, but not today,” Bucky said. He took a step back, gave Tony that sassy little wave again. “See ya!” 

And there he went again; man, hate it when you leave, love to watch you go.

 Bucky had practically dared Tony to come back. Tony had never been one to back down from a dare. He could hardly pay attention to the last meeting of the day, wondering if he’d see Bucky again. What Bucky would be wearing with those ridiculous lime shoes. Whatever it was, it was sure to be mouthwatering.

Tony all but flung himself into the car and sped through the streets, slowing down only when he reached that same road.

Bucky pushed away from the wall as soon as Tony drove up. He didn’t look like he’d been out running that day, wearing a set of short denim overalls with black boots and a tank top. He also had knee pads on, and when Tony pulled up, the music cranking, it was obvious why.

His dance moves for that day were exceptionally athletic, involving splits and twists, which weren’t exactly designed for use on a crummy backstreet sidewalk. He had brought out a folding chair for a prop, his legs moving over the back, twisting, and flipping over it like a circus show.

A very sexy, adult circus show, Tony noted.

Tony leaned heavily on his open window frame. “If you’re trying to impress me, then job well done.”

“Technically, I don’t jog on Thursdays, it’s weights day,” Bucky said, sitting backward in his chair and crossing his arms over the back. “But I thought you might be back. An’... I kinda thought if you were. You might want to go grab a coffee or somethin’?”

“Hot as fuck dance moves, an impressive knowledge of cars, and coffee? Be still my heart.” Tony grinned and jerked a thumb at the passenger seat. “Want to hop in?”

Bucky chewed his lip for a moment, then, “Yeah. I mean, I’m not gonna regret this, you don’t… look like a serial killer.” But he was smirking the whole time, so Tony could take it as a joke. 

Tony chuckled. “Neither do you. Come on, let’s grab a coffee. I promise I’ll have you home by curfew.”

Bucky folded up his chair and slid it into the very narrow gap behind the seats. “There’s a good place, two down, three to the left.”

“Two down, three left,” Tony repeated. “My treat, since you were kind enough to provide entertainment?”

“You got it, Baby Driver,” Bucky said, buckling his belt. ���Although this is a sweet ride, an’ I feel like I ought to pay you for the privilege.”

“For five blocks? You want a ride, we can go for a ride after we get our coffee. You know, assuming you haven’t decided to regret this.”

“I regret nothing!”  

[turtle-steverogers]

Not Guilty- 2

murder mystery’s back! im having too much fun with this story guys

Link to chap 1 in case you need it

warnings: albert being a human disaster, abuse of the word ‘milk’

ship: ralbert, platonic spalbert

word count: 1680

editing: lmaoooo no

Chap 2

When Albert gets to the precinct the next morning, he’s wary to find a wrapped parcel on his desk that looks suspiciously like a sandwich.  He pokes at it, frowning when he sees a singular smiley face drawn on the underside in black sharpie.

 “Hey, uh, Spot?” He calls, looking up when he hears his partner’s chair roll out from his desk and subsequently poke his head around the low wooden wall that separates their cubicles.

“Yes, honeycakes?” Spot’s expression is the face of innocence and Albert’s stomach churns.

“Did you-” He stumbles, gesturing to the presumed sandwich, “Is this for me?”

“It’s on your desk, isn’t it?” Spot smiles, rolling back into his cubicle.

Albert sighs, taking off his messenger bag and jacket and sitting heavily in his desk chair.  He cautiously unwraps the white paper to find a loaded meatball sub sitting in the middle of a napkin.  There’s a sticky note placed delicately on the fluffy white bread and Albert plucks it up, squinting at the words:

Sorry you didn’t finish your sandwich xoxo Spottie

He laughs probably too loud and sticks the sticky note on his desktop, right next to the note from Jack that reads: ‘I’m sorry for stealing your pants, I had brains on mine’ after Jack had taken his extra pair of slacks from his locker when his got spoiled at a crime scene.

He takes a bite of the sandwich, pleased to find that he can still stomach his favorite Gianno’s special after yesterday’s events.  As he chews, careful not to get any tomato sauce on his shirt, he plucks a sticky note from his own pad and scrawls out: Thanks, Pop Spotcket.  Love u, dear xoxo and tosses it over to Spot.

A moment later, Spot snorts indignantly, “‘Pop Spotcket’? Really? Does anyone actually use those anymore?  The only person I know who has one is my niece and she’s eleven.”

Albert rolls his chair so he’s in Spot’s cubicle, sandwich still in hand, “I have one, asshole.  They’re useful.  Anyway, thanks for the sandwich.  How’s it looking at Gianno’s?”

Spot sighs wearily, placing a stack of papers down and turning from his computer to look at Albert, “Eh.  They’re closed today.  I stopped by this morning to pick up some evidence left at the crime scene and one of the waiters asked if I wanted anything and I remembered that you didn’t get to finish your lunch yesterday so…”

“Thanks, man,” Albert says, mouth full.  Spot wrinkles his nose and tells him not to speak with food in his mouth.  Albert rolls his eyes, “Anyway, evidence?  What’s new?”

“Nothing really,” Spot says, “Just Wiesel’s receipt from his last meal.  Wasn’t really much on it, but it gave us a sure timestamp that lines up with our original record, so at least that’s set.”

“Good,” Albert shoves the last bit of sandwich into his mouth, licking his fingers.

“Yeah.  Saw our boy there, though.”

Albert raises his eyebrows, “Higgins?”

“Mhm.”

“How’s he?”

Spot shrugs, “Didn’t talk to him.  Kid looked like shit.  Well, more shitty than yesterday if that’s somehow possible.  Kept sending cute little glares my way, fucking ray of sunshine, that one.”

“Christ,” Albert grimaces, “I’m convinced he’s a player in this debacle somehow.  I mean, he seemed genuinely surprised when he found out the vic was Wiesel, but too many strings lead to connections on his end.”

“Yeah,” Spot agrees, “I dunno, I say we dig a little into Wiesel’s other relations as well.  I feel like there’s a gap here somewhere.”

“Toxicology came back,” Albert says after a pause.

Spot looks at him, eyebrows raised, “And?”

“Sarin poison in the blood.  Stab wounds were post-mortem.  Someone wanted this shit to look messier than it is.”

“Interesting.  I wonder who’d go through the trouble of poisoning, then following up with a physical attack.  ‘Specially in a public place.  S’kinda risky.”

“That’s what I was thinking, but whoever it was, clearly knew what they were doing.”

“Clearly…”

XXX

Albert never understood why there was such a wide variety of milks in the world.  And why, in this moment, he can’t find any simple fucking 2%.  

He scans over the selection again, bypassing the almond and oat milks and skimming over the fritzy lactose free shit.  There’s strawberry milk and chocolate milk on display and even horrifyingly enough, mint milk, but no fucking 2%.  It’s not even like this fucking bodega is big enough to warrant having so many milks. 

He just wants some damn normal person milk!

“Excuse me, detective.” 

Albert doesn’t startle.  He doesn’t.  He’s a trained law enforcement officer and detective.  People like him don’t fucking startle.  But, he is on high, professional alert when he turns around to see Antonio Fucking Higgins standing behind him, eyebrows raised in what’s probably amusement and hands shoved in his pockets.

Albert makes a strangled noise, eyes working on their own accord as they trail down Higgins’ body.  He’s sweaty, looking like he just came from some sort of workout, and a pair of tight adidas running pants hug his legs in all the right places.  He’s in a tank top today, somehow doing his arms more justice than the grey shirt he’d been wearing yesterday.  A hat sits backwards on his head, doing little to tame the curls that are trying to sneak out of the stupid hole where the strap meets the fabric.  He looks hot and it’s unfair and Albert’s never been ashamed of his sexuality, but right now he’s wishing that he could reign in his gay ass a little bit because aside from the fact that Higgins is a bit of a prick, he’s also a suspect and that’s, like, number one in the Book of Nope for cops of any kind.

Higgins is still looking at him, but now there’s a small crease of concern between his eyebrows, “You alright, man?” He asks, “You look kinda like you’re having a heart attack.  Do you have any chest pain?  Your left arm feel numb at all?”

Albert shakes himself, morphing his expression into something he hopes looks less like Gay Panic, “Yeah, sorry, I-” He splutters a bit, then shuts his mouth with a click.  

Higgins scoffs, “I just need milk, man, you mind?”

Albert starts, hastily stepping out from where he was definitely blocking the milk selection and watching as Race grabs a carton of-- fucking 2%.  How did he find it so fast?  How did Albert not see it?  He’s supposed to be the one trained to look for details others don’t see!

Trying not to flush, Albert reaches out and grabs a carton as well and Higgins looks at him again, laughing, “You were standing here for a long time, dude, I thought you were gonna murder the milk for a second.”

“Couldn’t find the 2%.” Albert mumbles, blushing harder when Higgins laughs louder.

“Real good reconnaissance there, detective.”

When Higgins is laughing, his face changes into something a whole lot more pleasant.  Not that it was ever unpleasant (the dude’s got a jawline of a god), but some of the hardness in his eyes and shadows on his face go away and for just a second, he looks like the 25 year old he’s supposed to be.  It’s nice, Albert thinks, ignoring the way alarm bells are going off in his head.

“Shut up, Higgins, I’m tired.  Some of us have to read about murders all day, so excuse me if my milk finding skills aren’t the most refined.”

Higgins’ face softens and the smile in his eyes turns into something else that Albert doesn’t want to dissect, “Race.”

“What?”

“Higgins is my dad, not me.  And I don’t like the name Antonio very much, so if we’re gonna be talking more, be it over murder or milk, call me Race.”

“Race?”

Higgins--Race--winks, “That’s a story for level five amici.”

“Oh, okay.”

They pause for a moment and even though Albert’s not drunk, his inhibitions seem to flutter away from him against his will as he blurts out, “Drinks sometime? Would- uh- would you wanna get drinks sometime?”

And fuck-fuck- SHIT- what are you doing Dasilva? What the fuck?

Race considers him for a moment, “Not that I wouldn’t hit that,” he nods to Albert’s body and Albert flushes.  Damnit with the flushing!  He’s 26, not some flouncy high schooler, “But I don’t think that’s a good idea, detective.”

Albert nods, “No, yeah, honestly I don’t know why I asked- uh-”

“Relax, don’t have an aneurysm, it’s okay.  I just don’t think it’s a good idea right now.”

“No no, you’re right.  Absolutely.”

There’s another pause, then Race smiles apologetically, “I gotta go get the rest of my groceries.  Take care.”

Albert cringes internally at how fucking painfully awkward this exchange has been, “You too,” he says, watching Race retreat to the wine aisle.  He takes another moment to gather himself, then goes to the checkout line.

XXX

Albert turns up the volume on his TV, pleased with the quiet solitude of his apartment for the night.  He doesn’t love living alone, but it’s been a long couple days and he’s been looking forward to a night to himself since he’d woken up that morning.  Just him, some thai, and the Animal Planet playing reruns of ‘It’s Me or the Dog’ all night.  Fucking self care.

He’s just yelling at some dog owner on the TV for feeding his pug 24 eggs a day and watching as Victoria Stilwell chews out the greasy fucker when his phone rings on the coffee table in front of him. 

Groaning, Albert mutes the show and chugs down a few sips of beer, before picking up the phone and answering with an annoyed, “Someone better be dying.”

There’s silence on the other end and Albert pulls the phone away from his ear to check the caller ID.  It’s Spot.  Shit, someone might actually be dying.”

“Spot?  Everything okay?”

Spot sounds sheepish when he says, “Well no one’s dying, technically…”

“But…”

“There was another murder.”

“Shit.”

-

Race went straight home after the bodega, right? RIGHT!??!? stay tuned ;)

thanks saph for ‘pop spotcket’

thanks for reading, chiefs

hmu to be added to my tag

TAG LIST: @getchapapes @we-dont-sell-papes @suddenly-im-respecsable 

@aw-jus-let-em-try @well-the-kids-do-too @spot-conlon-king-of-brooklyn @felix-loves-albert-and-ralbert @technically-whizzy

@andthewoildwillknow @the-newsies-justice-for-zas-blog @localfakeitalian @have-we-got-news-for-you @musical-shitposts @thebroadwayaesthetic

@thomasbeingthomas

@irondad-spiderson-duo

@snakesarenonexistent 

@i-got-no-clue-what-im-doing 

@kpop-kk

@mentallytiredgoat

@yxseminx

@be-more-chill-evan-hansen 

@stopthe-presses

@elmers-half-a-cup

@and-i-lostmy-shoe

@spot-me50-papes

@honeynutpoptarts

@newsies-ensemble

@bennie-badeend 

@auspicioustarantula 

@faithmil 

@hopefully-not-the-ghostbusters

@bxnesof92

@backgroundensemble

@sure-as-a-star

@skybert-daherty 

@eveningpaper

@malex-13

@albert-eats-cookie-cake

@heart-a-n-o-n

@bitching-newsboys

@orollyitsracetrackhiggins

@joshuaburrageenthusiast

@random-superhero-stuff

@awkwardstranger98

@falling-out-trees-101

@modern-race-owns-airpods

@asphodelnerd

@i-dont-do-sadness

@rockyroad236

@sirgrahamcracker

@godhatesjordan

@thats-our-que-boys

@bastille-smedry

@nerdsies

@toss-me-a-pape

@wolfbutterfly42

@revolutioninthesewers

@spot-the-brooklyn-pirate

@aintnosleevesinbrooklyn

@1-800-santa-fe

[eclare-draws]

Operation: Sleepover

Here’s the first chapter of my newest fic.

It’s full of dumb teenager-y fluff based on that period of time in Chat Blanc where Adrien and Marinette are dating and he knows she’s Ladybug but she doesn’t know he knows or that he’s Chat Noir

Adrien somehow got permission to have Marinette stay the night at his house. They're both nervous teenagers who are really in love. Marinette makes a dastardly plan with Alya's approval.

Also, nothing really sexy happens in this story (just smooches and lots of blatant staring), but I feel weird about writing about 13/14 year olds so I'm pretending they're like 15/16? Idk fam, imagine what you want. Just keep in mind that these innocent beans are staying that way while still behaving like youngish teens.

Here it is on AO3, where I will be posting the next chapters too.

Ch 2     Ch3     Ch4   Ch5

(Oh also, the texting is just [Marinette] {Adrien} |Alya| and whoever’s the focus of the voice is bolded)

Marinette couldn’t help but grin as she read the text that popped up on her phone.

{See you tonight! *kissy emoji* Don’t forget your toothbrush, princess! <3}

She was really going over to Adrien’s house for a sleepover. Adrien her boyfriend. She was going to watch movies with him. On his couch. In HIS room. With HIS cute face. It’s not like they hadn’t hung out before. They went on dates all the time - Mr. Agreste was surprisingly lenient with letting Adrien out of the house for her sake. But she was going over to his house for a whole night. Usually, it wasn’t more than a few moderated hours of studying and video games. Marinette couldn’t help but giggle in excitement as she responded.

[Oh and I bet you want me to bring my own clothes too, huh, prince boy?]

{I mean it’s recommended unless you want to be stuck in a shirt five sizes too big for you, my little sugar cube <3}

Marinette blushed at the thought of wearing his clothes. They would be so soft, and so warm and so- wait. Five sizes too big? “Little”? 

[Take it back.]

{Hmmmmmmmmmm….? Take what back, princess?}

[I’m not that small.]

{Aren’t you though? I could probably scoop you up with one hand and kiss your tiny little head <3 And you’d blush and be so so cute, princess}

[Adrien.]

{And then I’d laugh at how cute you are, but the force of the wind coming from my mouth! Oh no! You’ve been blown away!}

Marinette wasn’t that upset by his short jokes. He was so tall, and she was admittedly petite, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t feign frustration for a bit to keep him on his toes (she knew that this usually ended with him sending heart emojis and him continuing to make short jokes).

[I’ll be at your house at 6:00 unless you keep this up. I have to go get my stuff ready.]

{:((((((( I was only joking, princess}

{ily}

{Mariiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii}

[Seen 5:19PM]

{You didn’t need to type that :(}

[I love you too, silly prince.]

{:D}

{I knew it!}

{Everyone called me crazy but I knew you liiiiiked meee, princess}

[Let me pack, or else your princess won’t make it in time for dinner]

{As you wish. <3}

She clicked her phone off and set it down as she began to pack. She rifled through her drawers to try and find the cutest pajama set she had. Just as she settled on a matching pink floral button up and shorts combo, a wicked thought popped into her head. She grabbed her phone and tapped on her text conversation with Alya.

[I just had an idea.]

[Idk if it’s crazy or not but I need an expert opinion on the matter.]

Marinette got frustrated from the lack of immediate response. She was in a hurry and KNEW her best friend had her phone in hand at all times. Sure, it had only been a few seconds, but...

[Alya this is time sensitive.]

|Ah yes, the phrase no one can be safe after it is typed out by your thumbs, “I just had an idea.”|

[Rude]

|Spill, girl.|

Spill she did. Oh yes, it was a devious plan. She wasn’t sure what the reaction would be, but she’d all but decided on the course of action she planned to take tonight. Alya’s response was the only encouragement she needed.

|Damn, Mari. It’s crazy, I’ll give you that… but… I think it’ll work.|

[That’s what I was hoping you’d say >:3]

[But what if he thinks I’m… trying to seduce him?]

|Are you not?|

[NO!]

[We aren’t there yet, we’re… taking things slow? I guess?]

|God you’re cute.|

[u////u]

|I totally get that, girl. Take your time. Adrien’s sweet but a little too innocent to let this seduce him. I think you should do it.|

[I feel like that should be a sign that I shouldn’t]

[But I can’t be stopped now]

|You got this, girl. Text me to tell me how it goes?|

[Of course.]

With that, she got back to packing. She ran around her room, grabbing whatever she thought she might need. Her brain was a little scattered, being so focused on her plan, that she packed a lot of things she didn’t need. She had her toothbrush and other basic toiletries, a change of clothes for the next day, hairbrush, phone charger, water bottle, a bag of cookies for Tikki, a bag of cookies for Adrien, a notebook and pencil, a mini sewing kit, perfume, two pairs of shoes, a sketchbook, and a stuffed animal. As she tried to squash the poor little stuffed cat into her bag, she realized that she didn’t need all of this and took out the sketch pad, notebook, pencil, sewing kit, perfume, second pair of shoes, and the water bottle. She then shoved Mr. Vuitton the cat into her bag and zipped it up. As she hoisted the bag onto her shoulder, she glanced down at the abandoned pajamas lying on the floor. Tikki popped out from within the bag and gave Marinette a thoughtful look.

‘Maybe… I should…’ she thought, backtracking on her plans. She shook her head to clear it, stuck her phone in her pocket, and made her way to the trapdoor. She got halfway down the stairs before she ran back up and shoved the floral pink shorts in with everything else, then ran back downstairs, hearing a small giggle from inside her bag as she did so.

She glanced at the time. 5:43PM. She could make it in time if she walked fast enough. Before she left, she stopped by the bakery to give her parents kisses, her mom reminding her of the “serious relationship” talk they’d had the night before that Marinette didn’t want to think about too much as she rushed her way to her boyfriend’s house. She considered taking the metro to avoid getting sweaty, but nixed the idea when she remembered that rush hour was not going to help the state of her underarms either. Transforming was also out of the question unless she wanted attention and a strict talking-to from the kwami napping somewhere in the bag draped over her shoulder.

At 5:58PM, she rang the buzzer to announce her arrival, Nathalie’s questioning coming through the speakers quickly before a slightly panting Marinette made her way to the front doors of the mansion. Before she was even halfway up the stairs, a door was flung open and the boy she loved skirted out from behind it and raced to meet her where she was on the stairs while a disproving Nathalie looked on.

Unfazed by his excited behavior, she laughed as he greeted her with a kiss on each cheek and one on the lips. His face hovered close to hers as he started slipping the bag from her shoulder, “Let me carry that for you, princess.”

Blushing at the fact that Nathalie was watching as well as a reminder of, ‘wow he really is just like a puppy sometimes,’ she obliged and let him carry the bag as he linked arms with her for the remainder of their ascension.

“So I’m on kind of a strict protein based diet right now, something about wanting to bulk me up, so I hope you like meat and veggies with… absolutely no carbs,” trailing off, Adrien gave her a side-eye, a look she only knew too well from whenever he was put on a new diet. She winked at him and made a slight gesture to her bag to indicate that she had some sweet sweet carbs hidden away in there. Adrien grinned and kissed her forehead as they made their way inside the mansion.

Marinette wondered briefly if she would ever get used to the expanse that was the Agreste mansion. It felt too clean and empty to her, especially considering how small and cozy her home was. As they made their way into the dining room with the background noise of Nathalie listing off rules of the house and reminding Adrien of his schedule, Marinette couldn't help that twinge of guilt from settling in her stomach. She wished, for Adrien’s sake, that he could have grown up in a normal house with a normal family and a normal life rather than the one that was put upon him.

As Nathalie took Marinette’s bag from Adrien and left the room, Marinette gave a sad look towards Adrien and was surprised to be met with his expectant and loving gaze. “You okay, ‘Nette?” he asked as he pulled out a chair for her.

“Yeah, sorry! Just got a little… lost in my thoughts, that’s all. Have the rules changed since the last time I was here?” she responded, a smile leaking onto her face as she sat down adjacent to Adrien.

“No, not really. Nathalie did mention specific… bedroom rules,” he blushed at that, “But I don’t really think it applies to us?”

Not understanding why he phrased it as a question, Marinette returned his blush with her own as she asked for clarification, “What kind of ‘bedroom rules’?”

“You know… The usual. Don’t be naked with one another? Leave room for Jesus? Don’t boink your oinks?”

“Word for word, those are the rules?” Marinette giggled, a brow subconsciously quirking up in amusement. 

“It’s in the official Agreste mansion rules for guests, section 51J,” he unrolled an invisible scroll and cleared his throat. “‘Thou shalt not boink oinks until there has been proper discussion of said act between all parties of the household as well as the Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ, in one room. Finally, the oinks in question must be old enough to consent to boinking.’” 

Marinette lost herself in a fit of giggles. Between the funny voice Adrien put on, the idea of Gabriel Agreste having a sex talk with his son, and the goofy smile he was giving her after rolling the invisible scroll back up, it was too much. Adrien joined in with her steadily growing laughter until they had to stop to gasp for air. Marinette wiped a tear from her eye and looked up at Adrien, who was absolutely beaming at her. The moment he moved to push some hair out of her face, the door opened. Marinette watched with a pit in her stomach as Adrien lit up and looked at the door expectantly, only to let his features fall into a frown and let out a sigh. It wasn't his father, it was just the chef bringing in their meals. Marinette let her hand rest on top of Adrien's as plates were set in front of them. The chef placed a glass of water in front of Adrien and a cup of hot jasmine tea down for Marinette. While she knew her attention should be set on her aching boyfriend, she couldn't help but beam at the meal in front of her. It was just as Adrien said - protein heavy red meat and roasted veggies - but Marinette knew that every meal at his house was like eating at a nice restaurant and was excited to dig in. Not only that, but the chef had remembered her love for the fancy jasmine tea they often had at the house. She glanced at her boyfriend once more to make sure he was okay before she started eating. He gave her a smile and then gestured at her plate as he picked up his utensils.

[ipurpleyou1993]

My thoughts on:

Rookie Historian Goo Hae Ryung

Starring: Cha Eun Woo/Shin Se Kyung/Lee Ji Hoon/ Park Ki Woong

- Stand up for what you believe in. I think this is very important. People usually take advantage of those who are weak. So make your stand - especially if your boundaries and rights are being poked.

- Sometimes, being different is okay. Averting the community's standards is okay too. Why be like everybody else when you can be yourself?

We do not have to compromise our identity to match other people's standards. ✅😊💯

- Let us be each other’s support system. Let us value encouragement over discouragement. If someone wants to sing/dance/act/write, let them. Let them find what they are passionate about and support them.

Encouragement and kindness are free.

- Equality has come a long way. 👍🏻

The series is set during the Joseon Era where the status of women depended on who they marry. They are practically born to serve men during this time. So, I’ve come to appreciate the liberties we have now more than ever.

- Do your part. Do not be afraid when you are just doing what you are supposed to do.

- Adapt to the changing times. Change is the only thing that is constant. Let's all move forward with lessons from the past. 💜

- Wouldn't it be nice... if the world was Cadbury? Char! Hahahaha! Wouldn't it be nice if someone makes the decision to let go of everything just to be with you? #SanaAll

It may sound cliché but it's really romantic - how two persons can come together to achieve everything together. Wouldn't this really be nice? 😊❤️🥰

- Safe to say, no matter what era we are currently in, women make the world a better place. HAHAHAHA!

The Gist:

The series depicts the story of two young individuals who, despite being in different social classes, fell in love against all odds.

Shin Se Kyung plays the role of Goo Hae Ryung. She is a quirky young lady from a noble family who enjoys reading a lot. In saying so, she works as a book-reader to noble ladies in her neighborhood to earn money. Although, due to her book preferences, she always ends up not getting paid.

During this time, women tend to enjoy books about cringy love stories - most of which are written by “Maehwa”. Hae Ryung, on the other hand, prefers western literature which usually end depressingly. Hence, the no-payment scenario.

Little did everyone know, Maehwa is the pen name of Prince Dowon Yi Rim (played by Cha Eun Woo). He is the King’s son who lives at Nokseodang - the most secluded area in the palace - where he stays with a eunuch named Sam Bo and 2 young court ladies.

Naturally, as a kid who never left the palace, he is very innocent, naive and gentle. He found writing as a means to pass time inside the palace. Thus, the inspiration for the novels he usually writes are the secret love affairs of eunuchs and court ladies.

Digging deeper into the conflicts inside the palace, the king and his right-hand man decided to request the hiring of female historians. They meant to spy on the queen dowager who seems to be plotting against them behind their backs by doing so.

This move took a turn when the crown prince - Yi Jun - approved the plea on the condition that the female historians should take the civil service examination for government employees and that their involvement should not be limited to the queen dowager but to ALL members of the royal family.

A lot of controversy rose as females were not allowed to hold any position in the government during this time.

Hae Ryung and Yi Rim's story start to blossom here - when Goo Hae Ryung decides to ditch her arranged wedding to take the civil service examination to work inside the palace as a female historian.

They are set to an adventure of finding out their real identities and the people behind their past experiences.

The rest is for you to find out. So, watch this. It will be worth your time. 👍🏻💕

What I liked about the series:

- I love how unconventional the theme of this series is. Well, it's a gender bender type of story. The aggressiveness of the female lead and the innocence and naivety of the male lead is fun and fresh. ❤️💕😍 It makes the story more interesting since it's different from the traditional sageuk we are previously acquainted to. 👍🏻😊❤️

- I was thrilled when I found out that Cha Eun Woo was casted here as the male lead. I grew fond of him when I watched My ID is Gangnam Beauty. He's such an eyecandy! 😍😍😍

Of course, in relation to his outstanding visuals, we get to see a glimpse of his beautiful physique *wink wink*

On a serious note, what I liked about him in this series is that he has a very demure personality. Rarely do we get to see men in sagueks who are effeminate - mainly because historical dramas are very patriarchal in nature (IMO, ✌🏻).

I also liked how his character really transformed from this very innocent prince to a very mature potential king. The character growth was well-displayed so it was very satisfying to watch. ❤️😊😍

His acting is one to praise as well. I could say that he has improved a lot in the duration of the series. You might find this hard to believe in the beginning. But wait til you see him in the last few episodes. You'll get to appreciate his improvement more. 😊👍🏻💯

Aaaaand, may I just say, the term "Face Genius" really works for the man. Well, who wouldn't love this BB's face? TELL MEEEEE! 💕😂😊

- I was impressed with the acting skills of Shin Se Kyung here as well. The role of Goo Hae Ryung suits her! Her portrayal of the character was so on point that it actually came out naturally. Good job! 👍🏻👌🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

I love how her character is so independent, responsible, intelligent, fun, aggressive (in a good way), lovable and just plain quirky with a sunshine-attitude. Like I said, I enjoyed seeing women do what is considered taboo in this particular era. It's something fun and interesting to watch. 💕😊👍🏻💯✅

In this day and age, I think we need more Goo Hae Ryung's in the world - someone who stands up for her rights; someone who is not afraid to do her part for the common good; someone who is not afraid of power; someone who does not bend over backwards for power; someone who is righteous and responsible.

Very few are blessed with this kind of courage. So, if you're one of these very few individuals, SALUTE!

Also, I love how she looks so elegant in a Hanbok. She's rocking the traditional outfit as if they were casual attires. No wonder she was part of the 2017 Hanbok PR Ambassadors. 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

PO: I honestly think not all korean actresses look good in this traditional outfit. ✌🏻

- Their chemistry is 💯💕💕💕💕. They look good together. All their scenes made my heart flutter and skip a beat. 😍😍😍

- I like how the series tackled a bit about Christianity. There's this one scene that I really liked between Min U-won and another historian who was willing to let go of his position and to sacrifice his life for his religious belief.

I honestly appreciated my faith more because all this time (in my 26 years), I was and I am still reminded that all are equal - rich or poor - in the eyes of God. 💯😊✝️

- Friendship appreciation post: I loved how the friendship of the people in this series protected and cheered up each other.

It's always good to know that someone has your back - all the time. 😊✅💯

- Yo, I also loved the big reveal regarding the leads' identities. Goosebumps, everywhere! Especially...

SPOILER ALERT!

Especially when they confronted the king on the latter part of the series. Ooohweeee! Daebakkk!! 👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻

- Storywise, it's good. 💯

It talks about love, forgiveness, friendship, faith, loyalty, dignity and responsibility.

Kudos to the team for a job well done! 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

Cons:

- Okay... I have to admit, I did find the acting skills of Cha Eun Woo a little mediocre at the beginning. It was as if he wasn't ready for the role...

Some of his facial reactions were either exaggerated or repetitive... ✌🏻

But, let me tell you this. Do not let this bother you. He's got something in store for you on the latter part of the series. Do watch. 👍🏻😊✅

- I was a bit sad too when I heard that Cha Eun Woo was paired with Shin Se Kyung. My first impression on Shin Se Kyung is not that good. I honestly thought that her acting skill is not that impressive (Personal opinion, friends ✌🏻)

I have watched her in The Bride of Habaek and I was quite disappointed. Same with The Girl Who Sees Scents. 😔

But then again, all more reason to watch this because she really showed off what she's capable of. I've come to love her here because her acting prowess was showcased beautifully! 💕👏🏻👍🏻

- Again with the villain predictability. One can say that this story has the usual sageuk villain. ✌🏻

Soundtrack:

Rookie Historian Goo Hae Ryung OST

My personal favorite is Fall in Luv by Henry. It's the first track in the link provided above. 👆🏻👆🏻

Highly recommended for those who want to stray from conventional dramas. This one's fun and really enjoyable! You won't regret it! 💯👍🏻😊

CTTO Photos/GIFs/Music

[urdearestmom]

Airport Ballrooms | A Delayed Flight

so I don’t think I ever posted this there, and it reminded me that I need to post the rest of the chapters of LSS. but for those of you who haven’t come here from my ao3, here’s a little something I wrote back in January.

Summary: What happens when you hear a piano at 3 am?

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13332432

She hears it before she sees anything. Right as she exits the washroom, a song’s beginning is heard from a piano. As it proceeds, she finds that it’s vaguely familiar.

Coming into the open area where she’s been sitting and trying to nap for the past three hours, she sees that the formerly vacant piano is now occupied by a man whose fingers are gliding across the keys, his dark hair slipping over his brow. He looks like he might be about her age, although she’s not sure.

He’s very concentrated on his playing, so he doesn’t notice when she stands off to his left, watching. He ends the piece softly and when he looks up, he sees her and jumps, putting a hand to his chest.

“Jesus Christ! …almost gave me a heart attack there,” he laughs.

She smiles. “Sorry. That was really nice,” she says, gesturing to the keys. “What was it?”

He shrugs. “Just some good old Chopin.”

She nods. “Sounds familiar.”

“Did you recognize it?” He asks. “It’s one of his most famous pieces.”

“Yeah, kinda sounded like a lullaby or something.” She scrunches her nose. “Never mind.”

He hums. “No, I get what you mean, it has that quality to it,” he says, getting up and pushing the bench in. “What’s your name?”

For some reason, it’s at that moment that she notices he has freckles, although not many. “Jane Hopper, but I go by El. I like your freckles,” she unashamedly comments, then cringes. Fuck.

They start moving toward the seats where she left her luggage, and she sees that there are a few more bags nearby that must be his.

“Really?” He answers. “I used to have a lot more when I was younger, it’s kind of a side effect of aging that you lose freckles.”

“They’re cute.” She looks at her feet. Again? Seriously?

“Alright,” he chuckles. “If you say so, El.”

It’s then she remembers she hasn’t asked his name.

“Michael Wheeler, but no one except my parents call me Michael. Mike’s easier,” he says, tilting his head. “Were you on that flight to Indianapolis? I think it’s the only one that got delayed this late.”

She sits back where she’s been this entire time, and he sits next to her. They’ve just met, but it’s nice not to have to sit in an empty airport terminal at three in the morning by herself, chasing sleep she knows she’s not going to find. “Yeah, I’m going home. I was in Vegas at a speech pathology conference."

Mike grins. “Vegas, huh? What’s it like, hit up any casinos?”

El lays her head back. “I was there for work, so no. I guess I could have, some of my coworkers did, but casinos aren’t really my scene. Too loud,” she responds. “My friend Dustin definitely did, he’s still there,” she adds with a smile.

“He sounds like fun.”

“Definitely is, though sometimes he can be a bit of a handful,” she laughs. “How about you? Going home too?”

Mike nods. “Yup. I was in LA visiting my cousin, but also working. I’m a piano teacher,” he says, wiggling his fingers. “And there’s been a new initiative here in the States, to get some sort of standardized way of teaching, like the Royal Conservatory in Canada. So there’s been collaboration happening, stuff might be in the works.”

She turns to look at him, taking in the excited way he says this. “You seem really happy about that,” she remarks.

He nods again excitedly, his mop of hair flopping over his eyes. “Absolutely! It would make things easier if every teacher across the country had a certain level of things to teach students. Be easier for students too, especially if they ever have to switch teachers.” Suddenly he blows air upwards. “I need to cut this shit,” Mike says, gesturing to the dark locks surrounding his face.

El contemplates him for a second, taking in how he looks. “Nah, it looks good with your face.” GOD, EL! Stop being so forward, you just met him! “I think so, at least, if my opinion counts for anything,” she says, suddenly shy.

It’s weird, she thinks, that she just met this guy less than ten minutes ago and they’re already talking so easily.

He smiles. “It does,” he says, taking out his phone. He shows her what’s clearly a selfie, but it looks like there’s two of him. “That’s my cousin.” Mike points at the one who’s wearing a Guns N’ Roses shirt. “And this is me.” He’s wearing a simple striped t-shirt.

She looks more closely at the picture, trying to find some difference between them. “You guys look like twins!” She exclaims.

“We could be, if he wasn’t five years younger. We get that a lot though,” he answers. “I think you’re going to agree with me on this.” He continues. “He says he’s more attractive, but I say we look the same and therefore have the same appeal. What do you think? As an outside party.”

El looks at it again, and finds that she disagrees with Mike. “I think you’re cuter. Something about you,” she replies.

She looks up to find that a lovely pink blush is spreading across his cheeks. “Something I said?” She winks. Oh my god you fucking idiot. She suddenly feels crushed by the weight of her mortification.

He makes a strangled noise, and the hour and her tired brain must be getting to her, because somehow she finds it the funniest sound she’s ever heard. It’s also a little comforting that he doesn’t seem completely put off.

“Damn, that was smooth!” He says, starting to laugh too. “I gotta tell him you said that.”

“Isn’t he sleeping by now?”

He shakes his head. “No, he says sleep is for the weak. And it’s only two in Cali, and it’s the weekend.”

She reads over his shoulder as he types.

Cute girl said I’m cuter than you LOL

Suck on THAT tozier

“You think I’m cute?”

Mike blushes again. “Yeah, pretty. Really pretty,” he says softly. He gets a text almost instantly.

I dont believe u wheelie

U probably paid her or smth

Also, suck on what ;)

Actually nvm thats incest its just my reflex response

Mike looks at her. “Is it okay if we make a video and send it to him so he believes me?”

She shrugs. “We’ve still got at least four hours to kill, so why not?”

He pulls up the camera and starts recording. “Fine, you don’t believe me, here she is herself,” he says, turning the camera on her.

She waves awkwardly. “Hey… um, what’s his name?” Cringe.

“Richie.”

“Hey, Richie, just a little video to say that in my opinion your cousin’s cuter than you. And no, he didn’t pay me to say that,” she states, glancing off camera with a small smile.

Mike turns the camera back to him. “There you go, asshole. Video proof.”

He sends it, and they wait a minute in anticipatory silence before Mike’s phone vibrates with another text.

Lmao that doesnt convince me

She is cute tho ill give u that

Mike heaves an over-exaggerated sigh, shaking his head. You’re a dick, he types, go to sleep I’ll text when I get home.

SLEEP IS FOR THE WEAK, MICHAEL.

GO THE FUCK TO SLEEP, RICHARD. YOU HAVE WORK TOMORROW.

FUCK WORK

Mike stares at his phone for a second before turning it off. “If I keep talking to him then he’ll never actually go to sleep.”

El smiles at him. “He seems like a fun person.”

“Oh, he’s an absolute dick. But I love him,” Mike says, shaking his head again. “We weren’t really close as kids but then he moved nearby and we talked more, except then I went to college. He’s closer with my little sister.”

She nods. “Do you have any siblings?” He asks.

“Nope. Just me and my dad.”

“That’s nice. Sometimes I wish there had been less people in my house, would’ve meant less embarrassment in certain situations,” he says. “I have two sisters, one older, one younger.”

“I wish I’d had a sister growing up, would’ve made things easier sometimes,” she answers. “Can you even imagine how awkward my dad was the first time I got my period?”

He doesn’t say anything for a second, and she thinks maybe she shouldn’t have said that. OH MY FUCK.

“Sorry, that was awkward,” she laughs. WHAT THE EVERLOVING FUCK.

“No, it’s fine, just unexpected is all,” he says. “I mean, we’ve only known each other for like fifteen minutes.”

They look at each other, the same thought going through their minds. “This is weird,” they say together, and then they start giggling.

“I just-” He takes a breath. “Do you feel like you know me from somewhere? Because I feel like I know you but I don’t think I’ve ever met you before.”

It’s what she’s been thinking. She feels a sort of familiarity with him, something she’s never felt so quickly with anyone else. It’s like she’s known him for a long time, or maybe in another life or universe.

She grins. “Isn’t there a multiverse theory?”

After spending an hour discussing parallel universes and the physics involved in understanding any of it (which they both have enough of a basic grasp on because of watching too much History Channel), Mike is sitting at the piano again, El having asked him to play something else. She doesn’t recognize the beginning, but as it progresses she realizes she does know it. It gets her moving, and she doesn’t really know what she’s doing, but she’s circling the piano and the man playing it in a way that somehow fits with the music. She even sings along with the main melody and the trills.

She feels like he’s transforming the place into a gigantic ballroom with his music, and she’s the princess dancing with her prince (except there’s no prince to dance with, because he’s too busy making the music). It’s a stupid thing to think, but she never had dolls or was allowed to watch princess movies or read fairytales when she was a kid, and she feels like she missed out. Hopper let her watch movies and read, but it wasn’t the same as a teen as it would’ve been as a kid. And maybe it’s just a dumb fantasy, a creation of her mind because she’s tired and suddenly thinking about her horrifying childhood, but she thinks the imaginary ballroom that only has her and Mike in it is a wonderful place to be.

He ends the piece with a theatrical flourish, throwing his hands up off the keys as soon as the last notes are played. “How was that? You were dancing!”

A laugh escapes her lips as she claps. “It was amazing! I knew that one, it’s from the Nutcracker, right?”

Mike nods vigorously. “Gotta love me some Tchaikovsky.”

“Is that why it’s so dancey? Because it’s for a ballet?” She asks, curious.

“No, it’s because it’s a waltz,” he answers, stretching his arms up above his head. His sweater rides up to reveal a sliver of pale skin, and she finds herself staring without being able to tear her eyes away. “Waltzes are inherently dancey, I think. At least that’s what I always tell my students who play them, it helps them really hear the tempo and accents if they try to see the dancers.”

She averts her gaze, and he’s still talking. “You know, ‘cause waltzes have the accent on count one, so it goes one-two-three, and sometimes when you’re caught up in playing you forget about it so it’s good to try and envision the dancing. The music was written for dancing after all,” he finishes. “El? Sorry, was I rambling, because I have a tendency to-”

“No,” she breathes. “You’re just really attractive. The piano suits you.” She almost face palms. WHY am I like this????

That shuts him up, a redness spreading across his face once again (but this time along with a wide grin). He might just combust if he looks at her, so he looks at his hands instead.

“Sorry,” she says, worried she’s crossed a line she wasn’t supposed to yet.

Mike’s head whips up. “Sorry? What are you sorry for?”

“I’m too forward. It almost always ruins things with guys.” She deflates almost imperceptibly, and she wonders if he noticed.

Apparently he did, because El feels herself pulled into a sideways hug, tugged down to sit on the bench next to him. “Hey,” he says softly. “You’re just saying what you think is true, which is a great quality to have. You saved me from my own rambling, so thanks.” He gives her a squeeze and adds, “It hasn’t ruined things with me.”

Suddenly the air is charged and she thinks that if they weren’t in an airport she might have kissed him then. Sadly, they are in an airport. Instead, she requests that he play something more contemporary than Chopin or Tchaikovsky, and he starts up with a rendition of Halo by Beyoncé.

They spend another hour around the piano, him playing more and she observing. El thinks he plays with a lot of grace, his fingers moving deftly across the keys almost as though he’s stroking the instrument. He looks like he belongs in front of a piano, making beautiful music for all the world to hear. In this case the world is a strange woman in an airport at the asscrack of dawn.

It’s five in the morning when the pair crashes back onto the seats next to their bags, and they lean their heads on each other and fall asleep. However, it seems things are only in increments of one hour on this night, because it’s six when El awakes with a start, knocking Mike’s head off of hers.

“Attention passengers: flight 337 to Indianapolis International is now scheduled for take-off at eight thirty. Boarding will begin at gate twenty-three one hour in advance.”

“Hey,” she says, seeing Mike next to her looking disoriented. “Flight’s at eight thirty but we gotta be there at seven thirty, do you wanna get some breakfast?”

Looking around, she sees that the open area that was so empty during the night now has other people milling through it, and it shatters the warm space she’d felt she and Mike were in. It’s time to go back to the real world, away from the fantasies of ballrooms and princes and dancing. The magic of the night has been erased by the movement of the morning and she hopes what she thinks she felt between them hasn’t been erased too.

He yawns. “I’ll take that as a yes,” she says, getting up to stretch and grabbing her bags.

They walk around the slowly filling terminal, looking for a place to eat, and light upon a cute coffee place in the food court. They order and eat in silence, avoiding looking at each other, until he speaks.

“Does last night… feel like it was a dream, to you?” Mike asks.

I thought that was just me. She takes a sip of her black coffee. “It kind of does, yeah. This entire encounter has been weird.”

He looks down at his croissant, crinkling his nose, then peeks back at her through his lashes. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for.”

He says nothing else, and neither does she, so they head off to gate twenty three, and she thinks something’s wrong because he wasn’t this quiet or awkward last night. The tension is palpable, but she’s never been very good at social interactions and she doesn’t know what to say. He probably realized how dumb I am. She thinks she may have come across as very brazen (which she is, but she hates it for how it ruins everything all the time). Mike hadn’t seemed bothered by her earlier, and she had hoped that something good might have come out of their chance meeting.

It seems it was not to be, however, because the only thing he does as they board the plane is wave and give a little half smile when he finds his seat. El sighs and settles in for the hour and a half flight. She’s decided she’s going to try to catch up on the sleep she missed instead of sitting in abject misery, and it works because she’s blinking confusedly when a flight attendant wakes her to say that they will be landing in approximately forty minutes.

She’s excited to be back home, to work, her patients, her dad and Max. But she’s also the teeniest bit sad because she wants to explore that special connection she feels with Mike, to see what it means and what it’s about and she believes she’s ruined her chances (okay, so maybe she’s more than a teeny bit sad). She’s convinced herself that nothing was ever going to happen, she had imagined the unexplainable thing she felt between them.

She makes it through baggage claim and isn’t sent to customs, so El’s on her way out of the terminal to catch a taxi because both Max and Hopper are working today when something does happen. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees a person running out of the passenger exit, and she thinks that they must have seen a loved one they missed.

That is, until she hears the shout. “El!”

It’s Mike of course, and he comes to a skidding halt in front of her, breathless. “I just- ran- all the way here- because- I’m a dumbass-”

“Whoa, hey, breathe,” she says, “I don’t need you dying on me in the middle of the airport.”

He nods and waits until his breathing levels out before straightening up. “I wanted to apologize for being so stupid and awkward this morning, I don’t know what got into me.” He swallows before looking at her directly. “I really want to see you again, so… do you wanna go out sometime?”

WHAT! She doesn’t respond for a few moments, shocked. But then she grins and says, “Are you asking me on a date?”

He sucks in a breath, about to shake his head, she can tell, but then he stops. “You know what, fuck it. Yes, I am.”

“Well, I’d certainly like that.”

El leaves the airport with Mike’s number in her phone, and she’s only been in the taxi for a few minutes when it pings with a text.

Can you do tonight at 7?

He’s eager, and she likes that she’s not the only one. It assures her she’s not being some creepy, obsessive, stalker.

Someone’s eager lol

But yes

Where?

I was supposed to go to a “friend’s” party tonight but I never actually said yes and I really don’t want to haha

Kinda cheesy but I was thinking a roller rink if you want to go

There’s one near my place and it has an arcade too!!

Growing up in the 90s, El remembers being fond of arcades. She and Max used to hang out in them all the time. Another thing in common!

Aaaaaa the arcade I miss those

Sounds good, pick me up or meet you there?

I can pick you up lol I don’t mind

She sends him her address, and he sends back a GIF of a penguin dancing.

See you later :D

(part 2)

[lovebunnie]

nick carraway and jay gatsby are both gay and heres why

its 11:30 at night and i have class tomorrow but ive been itching to make this post for about a week so im gonna do it. this wont be centered as much around jay and nick being in LOVE, since id have to read and analyze it a bit more to make honest to god claims and opinions for that, but these r some of the reasons that point to both of these characters being completely gay. also, im going to be issuing some points from others sources, but ill include links to the original texts which i recommend reading!

1

so the great gatsby was written in 1925, a time full of alcohol, financial bliss, and parties like u would not believe. many of these themes are prevalent in the novel, making themselves known all throughout. even the term ‘gatsby-like’ is extremely well known. needless to say, this book is extremely well known in every front. one of the ones i saw the most was calling the great gatsby ‘the greatest love story ever written.’ and before i read the novel myself, i wouldnt have been able to tell u any different. but when u read it, and really, how u analyze it, really shapes how u see the characters. to some people, it really could be an amazing love story. but to me, this story is written about someone obsessed with a facade, denying himself who he is, and a man who watches his downfall and can do nothing to stop him.

one very important thing to acknowledge is how this novel is told: its told completely in nicks perspective. we only know how he feels, we only know these characters based on how nick sees them. it is immediately biased towards nick. and what he does is describe a hell of a lot of people. but it is very distinctive in the way he does it; men and women are very differently described.

nick describes daisy in her voice and the power it has over people. all of nicks flowery language goes into daisys speech, but not in great length about what daisy looked like. with jordan, nick does a bit more describing in the way she is ‘small-breasted’ and had the ‘shoulders of a young cadet.’ these traits are masculine, and we know from the novel that nick does enjoy jordans company and he does say he ‘enjoys looking at her.’ hell, even the name ‘jordan’ is traditionally masculine. nick sees jordan leaning more towards masculinity than femininity. but even still, the flowery language is not as grand as it could be, not as we know nick can get.

its when nick is describing men that things get bold and expressive. even while describing tom does nick go into great and intimate length with him;  ‘ He had changed since his Haven years. Now he was a sturdy straw haired man of thirty with a rather hard mouth and a supercilious manner. Two shining arrogant eyes had established dominance over his face and gave him the appearance of always leaning aggressively forward. Not even the effeminate swank of his riding boots could hide the enormous power of that body he seemed to fill those glistening boots until he strained the top lacing, and you could see a great pack of muscle shifting when his shoulder moved under his thin coat. It was a body capable of enormous leverage -- a cruel body’ the author of this paper literally said this passage ‘pulses with sexual energy,’ and this is for a character nick doesnt even like. it obviously means more in the way nick describes him, has more heart and passion put into it.

and now gatsby, who nick, in the final chapters, dwells on even more. we know gatsby is attractive, that much we can tell without nick even really having to describe him. but even in a single paragraph about his smile does it provoke more feeling than anything else about daisy or jordan;  ‘ He smiled understandingly-- much more than understandingly. It was one of those rare smiles with a quality of eternal reassurance in it, that you might come across four or five times in your life. It faced --or seemed to face-- the whole external world for an instant, and then concentrated on you with an irresistible prejudice in your favor. It understood you just as far as you wanted to be understood, believed in you as you would like to believe in yourself, and assured you that it had precisely the impression of you that, at your best, you hoped to convey.’

like. damn nick. this is only about gatsbys smile. this was no accident or cruel twist of fate; nick is enamored with jay and obviously finds him attractive and also enjoys looking at him, like jordan. nick sees men and women differently. this could be chocked up to ‘it was the olden days’ and ‘sexism,’ but nick isnt rude to these women, nick is simply not interested in them, at all.

but how do we know nick is gay? wheres the textual proof? its written out word for word, you just have to know where to look. and where to look is at the very end of chapter 2.

so chapter 2 does a lot for the plot; it basically introduces nick to the life these people live and makes him see how unappealing it is. we meet a large cast of characters and expand on others, like myrtle, her sister, and most importantly to the subject of nicks sexuality, mr. mckee.

mr. mckee is described as a ‘pale feminine man’ and nick offhandedly describes the smudge of shaving cream on his cheek. weird right? later in the night, nick describes himself as ‘ Taking out my handkerchief I wiped from his cheek the remains of the spot of dried lather that had worried me all the afternoon.’ nick has been LOOKING at this married man all night and cleaned him up when he was messy like come ON. plus, a ‘pale feminine man’ could very easily be a stereotype of a gay man, especially in the 1920s.

but then comes the most important part about nicks sexuality in the entire book: the ellipses.

the great gatsby is relatively short, only about 200 pages or so, give or take. fitzgerald would not include anything he wouldnt need, as he is also an expert in metaphors and making things seem as they are not. everything is masterfully placed and paced, making it seem to flow like water. 

the scene in question describes mr. mckee and nick on an elevator, leaving the party. mr. mckee walked out, leaving his wife, and nick decided to follow. heres the scene:

Come to lunch some day,” he suggested, as we groaned down in the elevator.

“Where?”

“Anywhere.”

“Keep your hands off the lever,” snapped the elevator boy.

“I beg your pardon,” said Mr. McKee with dignity, “I didn’t know I was touching it.”

“All right,” I agreed, “I’ll be glad to.”

. . . I was standing beside his bed and he was sitting up between the sheets, clad in his underwear, with a great portfolio in his hands.

“Beauty and the Beast . . . Loneliness . . . Old Grocery Horse . . . Brook’n Bridge. . . . ”

Then I was lying half asleep in the cold lower level of the Pennsylvania Station, staring at the morning Tribune, and waiting for the four o’clock train.

LIKE. WHAT.

those ellipses separate the time between nick and mr. mckee on the elevator and nick and mckee at his home, with one in underwear and then nick leaving for the train at 4am. there is a large gap of time missing from this, and nick decided to leave it out while fitzgerald decided to keep it in. it means something, and the use of ellipses gives the audience enough to know what is happening without explicitly telling them. it is the authors ‘wink wink nudge nudge’ to the audience. think of the environment nick was in; tom was cheating with myrtle, the heavy metaphor of the eyes watching over the sins we think no one can see. this party was full of mischief and nick fucked a married man.

mckee does not seem intoxicated, he invites nick out to lunch while gripping the elevator handle, which are always objects shaped like dicks. plus in the novel, the scene does feel somewhat out of place; nick does not spend too much time discussing the interactions between mckee and himself, it seems thrown in. i get the impression that nick almost didnt want to include it it his writing, and put it in last minute. however, nick is fictional and i dont have much to go on off from an almost 100 year old book. its open to personal interpretation, but it seems like nick and mckee had sex and nick left on the 4am train, leaving mckee in his underwear at his own home looking through his pictures.

even at the beginning of the novel, nick is planning on living in a house with another man before the plan falls through and he goes to washington dc. could this be a failed boyfriend? we cant say. but it is a possibility.

nick carraway ends the novel mourning his friend jay gatsby, moving back to the midwest alone and away from the glitz and glam of new york. his ending does not involve getting married and having kids and riding off into the sunset, which seems bittersweet for our narrator. however, given the way things planned out for other characters, this is the best ending we could hope for for nick, one away from the destruction and one where he can at least begin to to to be happy again.

and now we move onto jay.

ill admit, this has little to do with textual evidence; i cant point out a place where jay fucks a dude or describe the way jay sees men and women; with nick being our narrator, again, he only know his perspective. but we do hear things about jay from other characters, how he acts and acted before nick and the type of man he is.

wolfshiem describes jay as ‘ very careful about women. He would never so much as look at a friend’s wife.’ this means that jay knows women and knows when to back off, never advancing on someone he had no claim to. this is very important to me for several reasons.

1. it implies jay is not a cheater

2. it implies jay has been around enough women to know who is who

3. it shows jay is respectful

this also says to me that jay is not bi; he only has eyes for daisy, and not other woman. and those eyes for daisy are questionable.

we know daisy and jay had last seen each other 5 years prior to the events of the novel. in that time, jay had collected numerous things about daisy, built a house just so he could see her, and blew thousands of dollars every weekend for parties in hope that daisy would show up, even obtaining money illegally just to impress daisy.

jay gatsby is obsessed with daisy.

this is obvious from the text, the behaviors he puts forward are strange and creepy in pursuit of daisy. gatsby stares longingly out the window, cant hold a conversation with nick, and flat out bolts out of a restaurant to avoid embarrassment. he is an awkward guy, no doubt. and he lives his life as trying to be someone else, specifically, the man he thinks daisy wants from 5 years ago. when the car crashes with myrtle, all gatsby cares about is how daisy feels; when hes literally about to get ganked all he thinks about is daisy, daisy daisy daisy.

this isnt love, and i think deep down, jay knows it. this is the equivalent of dudebros who go above and beyond to prove they arent gay but end up the most gay of them all. gatsby is compensating for his feelings and trying to push the limit to deny himself more and hide back into the closet. he wants to seem the most manly he can get and basically say ‘wow i love women! i love women so much! look what i did for this woman! look at how much i love her!’

daisy is the first person jay felt he could be himself around, could begin to feel happy. and when he went to war, he no longer had something to push all his feelings onto. plus he was surrounded by other men, and for someone so in denial about their own sexuality, it probably drives them to pretty bad places. pretty obsessive places. he needs daisy, not because he loves her, but because he needs to security blanket. he needs to feel validated.

those glaces and stares out at nick feel like cracks of the real jay poking through, one who likes men but cannot admit it to himself. after all, as a man so attached and desperate for the ‘american dream,’ back in the 1920s, that did not include marrying a man. jay lives with internalized homophobia and tries to calm his nerves with his pretend love of daisy.

i could go on and on about this forever but its 12:30 and i have class.

if u take nothing from this, let me leave u with these main bullets:

TL;DR

nick fucked a dude

nick describes men erotically while he describes women very dully

nick almost lived with another man

jay is obsessed with daisy to repress his emotions

the separation and wartime made things worse for him

his internalized homophobia causes the plot

his longing stares out the window at nick are cracks in his facade

ty and goodnight

[wasabicakes]

Uma and Harry's relationship: An Analysis

So I’m going to dive right into this. Heads up: All my info is coming from one of the books in the Isle of the Lost series, Rise of the Isle of the Lost (kinda spoilers, yeah?), as well as Descendants 2. In Rise of the Isle of the Lost, we actually find out quite a bit about their friendship and dynamics. This isn’t by any means an encyclopedia of their friendship nor their characters individually. There’s a lot I’m not including in here (Sorry!), but I’m just bullet pointing the most relevant parts that I’m comparing, so this thing isn’t just a massive wall of overbearing text that makes your eyes go bloodshot.

Uma and Harry are each others oldest friends on the Isle. They like to cause mayhem together. Gil peaced out from their group years ago for reasons unknown, so its been the fearsome twosome for a long time. Until he joins their crew later on in the book.

They decide to join a “boat” race run by Captain Hook where the winner gets one of his old busted ships from his fleet.

Uma takes Harry’s hook and tells him he’ll only get it back if either he or she wins that race. They make a deal that whoever wins gets to be captain and the other will be first mate. We already know how that turns out.

At first Harry is hopeful she will make him captain at some point, but after she rescues him during an adventure I won’t tell you about, he’s all on board with her being captain.

From there on out, he calls her captain multiple times, even lending her his hand and saying, “Captains, first” so she goes ahead of he and Gil. When Uma’s feeling down, he and Gil offer suggestions of what mischief they could cause and Harry goes, “Captain’s choice.”

Their relationship is full of banter. They take jabs at each other, they’re sarcastic. Examples: Harry teases her when she nearly falls off the ship twice trying to unfurl the masts in a hurry when she has no clue what she’s doing. She makes fun of him for not staying on his feet when the ship sways hard. And how he never beats her at anything. And that’s just a little snapshot.

I don’t know how much time has passed between the events of Rise and and Descendants 2 - they’re still close friends, still captain and first mate respectively - but their relationship seems different now in the weeks? months? that have passed. In Rise, Harry flirts with Uma, but she never once teases or flirts back. He’s the one who is more proactive in getting her attention in that sense and she is unfazed: “As if. You work for me, remember? Do I have to keep reminding you? I’m captain, you’re first mate,” said Uma, pointing a finger and stabbing his chest with it. “First date if you’re lucky,” said Harry with a wink, pulling on his collar and strutting a little. “Shut up,” said Uma with a laugh. “And see to that sail.” (Ch. 13) “A few minutes later, Harry swiveled on his boots and returned to her side, leaning in closely. "Uma, darling,” he said, in his rough brogue. “I just need to ask again - how are we going to find that thing in the water?” “Leave that to me,” said Uma. “Just get this ship ready.” (Ch. 13) “I don’t think this symbol marks the treasure. Remember, we’re looking for a trail. The path isn’t on the ground. It’s written on trees. If I’m right, there are more of these markings. Follow them, and we’ll find the treasure,” said Harry. “Or we’ll find out where two lovers carved a heart in some tree,” said Uma. “Are you trying to tell me something?” Harry joked. “That I’ll cut you if you don’t find the treasure chest?” Uma snorted. (Ch. 27) She also offers us this little tidbit (in Chapter 13, for reference): “Uma knew, try as she might, she couldn’t hurt his feelings. It was all part of the game of question-and-rejection they’d played forever.” What does this even mean though? With all of that in mind, let’s flash forward to Descendants 2. And for the tl;dr crowd here is essentially what this next part is all about:

Where we have scenes like these -

(x)

(x)

These moments occur when Harry is performing his part of the song from the What’s My Name scene. In the first gif, his lines at this part are: Never learned how to count ‘cause I’m number one. He crouches down in front of her and she says the words when he does, even putting her finger up to represent the number one.  In the second gif, Harry directly points to her and says, “she’s the captain”, then the camera flashes over to the moment in this gif, her winking at him and smiling.

(x)

Again during Whats My Name, Uma goes to the stage and he promptly joins her where this happens. They move closer to each other spurred on by her grabbing his hook. Their smiles after she says it. LOOK AT THEM GRINS. And immediately after they both laugh and she playfully bumps him. Remember those quotes from before? Where Uma’s not particularly bothered, enticed by or even interested in Harry’s flirting in Rise of the Isle of the Lost? Well, look at our little sea witch now. It looks like she’s very much enjoying his attention. For Harry’s part, he seems twice as smitten with Uma than he was before. If he was merely flirting with her for fun in Rise, his actions in the movie show it’s developed into straight up infatuation. This boy is S P R U N G. In the text? He flirts. In the film? We literally never hear a flirtacious line come out of his mouth. He doesn’t quite initiate contact between he and Uma in the movie. But Uma does. It’s almost like a reversal of their dynamic, but with actions instead of words. And Uma’s the one that starts it. Whereas Uma didn’t care when he flirted in the book, Harry is enthralled by her in the movie whether she’s giving him attention or not. All eyes on me, let me see 'em indeed.

(x)

I want to say this moment is the one that saw the S.S. Huma rise out of the waters all majestic-like and for good reason, too. Some context: She pushes Gil aside and turns to Harry. Her tone and his expression are serious when she asks, “What’s my name?” And this is how he responds. First, body language. He literally lowers himself by kneeling before her, putting himself in a position of reverence, submission. He takes off his hat - taking off one’s hat is typically done for courtesy - and says her name in…. awe? Adoration? Respect? [Insert adjective of your choice here]? You pick because - watch the scene again if you can - even the sound of voice is different when he says her name. And his eyes. He never breaks eye contact with her once throughout that entire exchange. (Remember that time in Rise he called her captain and didn’t genuinely mean it? My how things have changed.) Speaking of eyes…

(x)

She’s dancing on her throne and the camera turns away from her to Harry where he’s literally following her every movement.

(x)

(x)

Harry looks at Uma like he just discovered fire and is so captivated by what he’s seeing he can’t look away. He seriously isn’t looking away. None of the above gifs scream platonic from his side. Like, none. I can’t comprehend how you could even view him as thinking of Uma as merely a friend at this point. I never got the sense he was this interested in her in the book, but clearly his feelings for her have exploded since. What the hell happened with them after Rise but before Descedants 2 began?? Let’s talk about that second gif real quick. One of Uma’s moves involves swinging her arm around and pointing it at the crowd around her and they respond in kind by looking away. Except for Harry. Harry doesn’t flinch. Harry doesn’t move. His position remains the same. He keeps on looking. His eyes are glued to the girl in front of him. The line in the song before this scene comes from him, as well: Uma’s so hot they get burned if they look. They get burned, eh? I guess Harry is exempt from this particular fate.

(x) His body is turned towards her, watching as she mocks Mal. He’s biting his lip as he watches. Now a lip bite can mean a few things: scared, anxious, uncomfortable. But it can also be flirtatious. Nothing else about his expression or stature signals that he’s feeling anything other than good af, so its pretty darn safe to say he’s just plain into her.

As for Uma, she is winking at him again and she taps him on the chin (physical contact!). The moment after this is adorable - dare I say, better than this moment itself? - because she looks so pleased, backing up as he steps forward to get in Mal’s face and talk about the ways in which he’ll harm her boyfriend.

(x)

LOOK AT UMA’s GRIN. LOOK. AT. IT.

And of course, I wasn’t going to not mention this moment:

(x)

Again, she’s the one initiating contact with him - running her hands through his hair - and he genuinely looks like he could die in that moment and be perfectly content with that. She even bends down, increasing how close they are to each other.

Meanwhile he is leaning backwards into her touch, mouth agape, watching her the whole time (I wasn’t joking about his eyes never leaving her). His mouth curls up into a smile at the end! If that first moment where he says her name didn’t catch you, then this moment would have for sure.

Now I know there will be some who say: Well, those actions by Uma aren’t necessarily flirty. It could mean nothing. Some people are naturally more touchy feely - they like hugs, placing hands on shoulders, linking fingers - and those actions are never intended to mean anything more. All of which is true. All of which is fine. But Uma? She’s not one of these people. Not based on everything I’ve read and seen. We’re not (please, please correct me if I’m wrong!) presented with scenes where this kind of behavior is displayed by her in the book. In the movie, she does wrap her arms around Harry and Gil but for the most part we don’t see her initiating physical contact a lot. So I tend to think her behavior here means something. Even if its just her being playful. Because she doesn’t act this way, exhibit these particular behaviors (light friendly touches, the winking), towards anyone else but Harry. Which leads me here, the final scene I want to discuss:

(x)

Now this. This is intriguing. Scroll back up folks, look at Uma’s body language, her expressions in those moments she’s initiating contact with him. She’s oozing confidence. She’s joyful, bouncy. She’s totally in her element. But if you glance down here again. Her expression. It’s different. She looks vulnerable, overwhelmed (?), almost lost in Harry’s intense stare. Again with the eyes. Their eyes are locked. The space between them isn’t exactly wide. And Harry is the one leaning closer. Harry. And he’s biting down on his lip and he’s staring at her and his head is tilted. We’ll never know what was suppose to happen in this tiny moment - if anything even was! - as it was broken by Gil talking, shaking them out of this interaction. But to me, it looks like he wanted to kiss her and Uma was shook by the very prospect. And that is certainly something.

Because this is the same girl who - however long ago it was - told him to shut up about him being her first date or threatening to cut him when he teased her about couple’s carving hearts into trees and it having any relevance to them. In conclusion: Harry/Mal is nothing. Uma and Harry’s relationship has kinda sorta maybe changed, Uma is now Harry’s north star and moon and literally every celestial body in existence, and I really want to see where this is heading for these two pirates. Don’t let me down Melissa and Kenny.

[nolookfive]

i’ll always be by your side, don’t you worry

FRIENDS I DID IT. i took matters into my own hands and i present you with the Thing™ . the Amy’s-Reaction-To-Jake’s-Beard-Thing™ . it’s long and i sort of went on a tangent but??? i’m happy with how it turned out & i hope u like it too. also i got 1.5k followers this week wtf i love u all thanks for followin’ :)

This would be so much more comfortable with a cushion, Amy thinks to herself as she sits on the cold metal chair.

But cushions are luxury in prison and prisons aren't supposed to be luxurious. Prisons are for criminals - hard, angry, dirty criminals. So why was she here again?

Oh yeah. Her boyfriend was framed for bank robbery. That's right.

Amy taps her nails against the rickety wooden table in front of her, a habit she's well known for when her anxiety starts to kick in. This place is terrifying. She's been in a prison before but that was undercover for a mission, she's never had to be here as a legitimate visitor. Glancing around the room, she could see there were about seven groups scattered at other tables waiting to see their loved ones. She hears them chatting and laughing and she wonders how they can all be so calm and relaxed, as if they're meeting up with an old friend for a coffee date.

Amy's mind wanders and her anxiety jumps up to stage two as the realisation hits her that she hasn't seen Jake since the guilty verdict, which was a little over a month ago. How was she supposed to explain to him why she hasn't visited? Perhaps by simply stating that the reason he's in prison in the first place literally wouldn't let her.

---

"You cannot be serious, sir."

Amy is pacing back and forth, her hair starting to fall loosely from her ponytail. Holt is sitting at his desk, expressionless as he watches her shoulders tense. Charles and Terry are sitting on the sofa beneath the window of Holt's office, their faces giving away nothing but pure defeat.

"I wish I wasn't serious but unfortunately I am. Lieutenant Hawkins has somehow managed to temporarily block our visitation rights to Diaz and Peralta."

Charles shakes his head. "But that doesn't make any sense. Jake and Rosa are in prison, she thinks she's won. Why would she continue the fight?"

"She knows we're trying to prove them innocent," Amy surmises, crossing her arms over her chest. "She knows we're trying to find a loophole so she's punishing us."

"That may be so, but regardless of her reasoning, our hands are tied. I've already put through a call to One Police Plaza in the hopes they can do us a favour but we shouldn't expect good news from it."

"So how long is the block in place for?" Amy asks.

Holt tenses, glancing at Terry and Charles before meeting Amy's eyes, which have darkened a considerable amount in the last two minutes. "Up to three months," he finally responds.

Boom.

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?" Amy explodes, making Charles jump in his seat. "Three months? We can't see them for three months?"

"Santiago, calm down-"

"Don't tell me to calm down! This - this psycho has already ruined our lives enough and you're telling me we have to wait three months before we're allowed to step foot into the prison that two members of our squad shouldn't even be in?"

"I'm expecting a response from the plaza later this afternoon, I'll keep you all informed as soon as I hear anything. Dismissed."

"Sir, you have to try something else-"

"Santiago, there is nothing else. Back to work."

---

It took weeks and multiple emails but they managed to get a way around the block, which is how Amy was sitting here, her anxiety rising to stage three as she chewed at her lip, breaking skin as the metallic taste of blood touched her tongue.

Suddenly there's a loud buzz and Amy redirects her attention to the barred entry on the other side of the room. Her heart starts to race even faster as she catches a slight glimpse of a guard yanking the door open, and then it's just a stream of khaki jumpsuits until a familiar face is all but staring right into her soul.

He looks different. She's never seen him like this before. It's not a bad different. It's a shock, but she definitely didn't hate it.

No, she liked it. Really liked it. The sudden heat coursing through her veins confirmed the fact.

But he's watching her as the guard unlocks his handcuffs and her heart is slowly piecing itself back together as a new type of emotion rolls over her, completely evaporating all stages of anxiety she felt before.

Relief. Sweet, sweet relief.

They're watching each other as he's weaving through the other groups of people, making a beeline for Amy and before she can release the breath she didn't know she was holding, his hands are reaching for her face and cupping her cheeks and his lips are pressed against hers with the most intense urgency she's ever felt.

It felt like Amy was home. She kisses him back, melting into his touch, her hands scrambling to touch his face only to let out a muffled gasp against his lips at the feeling of her fingertips brushing across the scratchy wisps of hair that cover his jawline.

Jake pulls away, chuckling at her reaction, his hands moving down to grip her waist lightly. "Hey you," he says quietly, resting his forehead against hers.

Amy smiles, giving him another quick kiss. "Hi."

"Alright, knock it off, Peralta!" the guard calls out. "Doubt you wanna cut your visiting time in half."

Jake rolls his eyes, raising his hands above his head. "Sorry, guard!" he replies, walking to the opposite side of the table. "Jackass," he mutters under his breath, reaching for Amy's hands as they both sit down.

Amy can't help but watch this new version of Jake as he scoots his chair forward, his elbows leaning on the table. His cold fingers link with hers clumsily but they tighten perfectly against each other, like the last piece in a puzzle. Jake looks down, a small smile tugging at his cheeks as he rubs his thumb over Amy's knuckle. When he glances up at her, she's still staring at him with wonder.

"What are you looking at, weirdo?" he laughs, squeezing her palm gently.

Amy shakes her head. "You're - how do you have - you have a beard?" she gestures to the scruff lining his usually bare features.

"Oh." Jake runs a hand over his face. "Yeah. I keep forgetting this is a thing now."

"Didn't you say it was next to impossible?"

"I thought it was, maybe it's the gross stench of being surrounded by a bunch of scary dudes that brought it on." Amy lets out a scoff, but it isn't enough to hide the brief tint of red flushing her cheeks. She scratches the inside of her thumb with her index finger, and that's when it hits Jake.

"Oh my god, Ames, are you..." he lowers his voice, "are you turned on right now?"

Amy snaps back into reality, slapping his hand. "Don't be ridiculous, Jake," she scolds him with a glare.

He can't help but laugh. "You can't lie to me, babe, you suck at it."

"I'm not lying," Amy insists.

"You think I don't know that you have a tell for pretty much all of your moods? When you need coffee, you click your tongue. When you start to lose your patience, you pace. When you're frustrated, you frown on and off. And when you're turned on, you scratch your thumb. You," he grabs her hand again with a wink, "can't lie to me."

Amy rolls her eyes and shakes her head. "Okay fine," she admits, "but can you blame me? It's been over a month."

Jake's grin falters and his eyes turn serious. "Yeah, what's the deal? Is everything okay, why haven't you visited?"

Amy avoids his eyes, instead focusing on his hands holding hers softly. "Hawkins," she replied, the name leaving a bitter taste in her mouth, "she put a block on anyone from the nine-nine being able to see you or Rosa."

She doesn't need to look up to know Jake is now wearing his signature pissed-off-frown, the one he sports when something has happened that he can't control. "Of course she did," he spits, "That son of a bitch. So - wait - so how are you here if she stopped you?"

"Holt put a call through to One Police Plaza about it, they managed to override the block but it meant only one of us would get to visit for a super limited amount of time. So they let me go."

Jake gives her a small smile, lifting their hands to press a light kiss to Amy's fingers still inked with his. "Glad they chose you," he said softly, "I've been missing you like crazy."

Amy can feel tears building behind her eyes and she tries to blink them away but one manages to escape down her cheek. "I miss you too," she whispers, her voice barely audible, "so much. So, so much."

Jake reaches forward, brushing the tear away with his thumb and cradling her face gently. "I hate that I did this to you. I just - I've left you again and I can't do anything to make it better.

Amy shakes her head, holding his hand against her face tightly. "Don't say that. This isn't your fault. You didn't leave me, you're - you're just in a super crappy situation that we are going to get you out of."

"But what if you can't? It's fifteen years, Ames."

"Charles' hackers think they might have lead as to where the original bank accounts came from. They've been working nonstop, just like the rest of us. I promised you, babe. You're not staying in here, neither is Rosa. No way in hell are we letting that happen."

It's like the insanity of the commotion around them disappears for a split second and it's just the two of them alone in the room. But they're quickly brought back to reality by the loud bark of the guard.

"Peralta! Time's up!"

Panic floods Jake's eyes, his hand dropping from Amy's cheek. "What? Visitation is an hour!" he yells back.

"Not this time. Warden says you only get ten minutes. On your feet, now!"

"Ten minutes?" he questions. Amy flashes him a dejected look and he remembers what she said earlier. "Limited time," he states, "super limited time."

Amy nods sadly as they both stand up and before she knows it, Jake has circled the table and pulled her into a crushing hug. "I love you," he mumbles, his beard tickling her neck, "I love you, I love you, I love you more than anything."

"I love you, too," she whispers back, her arms tightening around his neck. "We're gonna get her, I promise."

"I know you will."

They pull apart, just in time for the guard to yank both of Jake's arms behind his back and lock the handcuffs into place. Jake gives Amy one last look as he's lead towards the exit, and he notices her scratching her thumb again.

"Keep it," she calls out sternly, a playful smirk on her face. "Please."

He chuckles as the barred door slides open and the guard pushes him through. "Anything for you, Santiago!"

[sinkingorswimming]

CONGRATION FOR 600 FOLLOWERS U DONE IT

more X-Men coming through, maybe not so “soft” anymore @linneakou

He could be doing a gig in DC at the 930 Club right now, but Ciao Ciao and his teammates are playin’.

An old friend of Celestino’s, Dr. Mireya Thomas, mentioned during a lunch date to check in and catch up her close neighbor’s son disappeared six months ago. She’d been searching for him—Leo had confided in her that he was a mutant, having moments where flames would appear on his body. Leo was a kind kid, she told Celestino—went to mass every Sunday, was in the church band, good grades in school, helped his local Kiwanis chapter—but he’d come to her because Mireya is a leading geneticist in the field of human mutation.

He prayed every night for a cure, he said then. 

Celestino handed her a tissue to dry her stoic tears and said he would try to find out what he could, keeping an eye out for posters or social media posts.

Thanks to some creative computing on Seung Gil’s part, they have the following—

1) There is some shadow org called The Right taking recently mutant-presenting teens.2) They have some kind of crazy financial backing that no one can properly trace. (”Yet,” grumbled Seung Gil with some acid.)3) Blackwater looking goons with masks do the aductions, and some shady dude who speaks only in a mixture of German dialects calls the shots.

Yuuri is in a costume that’s mostly different from his stage outfits. It’s black and made of some fabric Seung Gil calls “unstable molecules” so it’s fireproof, waterproof, bulletproof, shockproof, and Andre Leon Talley’s scathing critique proof. Chris handled the design, making a point to compliment its inventor on how it goes through a serger like a hot knife with butter. It’s a black-form fitting number covered in prismatic crystals, mesh inserts, and fingerless gloves so he can still use his Laser Hands (TM Phichit, not to be confused with his Laser Pants, also TM Phichit) and he puts in red contacts instead of the UV purple ones. His hair’s gelled back and the make-up that obscures his features is charcoal and crimson. 

Yuuri could dance before he could run, which is how he keeps ending up the point man. Little rainbow shimmers float in the air around him, a sublte method to distract people from paying too much attention to his voice or face. 

“I hate this.”

I know you do, Dazz, replies Phichit over their special earpieces. Just know Forge and I are right behind ya’ once you clear the security systems.

“He really can’t just hack it?” Yuuri arches his back, holding his right foot above his head in a Bielmann. The boots he wears have split soles like dance or wrestling shoes.

Sure I can, if I want the FBI on our door in two minutes, comes the inventor’s scating reply.

Yuuri stretches his other leg. Standing at the wall behind him, Longshot clears his throat. 

Yuuri gives him a look. Since he doesn’t have a secret identity at all really, he just lets his face show with nothing to conceal his features. 

His suit’s been modified by Chris to use the same fabric as Yuuri’s—instead of hot pink, he now wears a purple top attached to black fingerless gloves that begin at his elbows. His pants are a tight shimmery black like oil slicks, but his boots are more traditional combat style unlike the Dazzler outfit. The embellishments on his top are actually weapons—the cord doubles as a whip, the “braiding” is actually those short silver darts he throws, and so on. 

Longshot smiles, his eye glimmering with the gold burst for a moment. “Your lucky charm’s on stand by, beautiful,” he assures Yuuri with a wink.

Yuuri turns forward again so he won’t see that his cheeks now match his make up. He coughs, takes a look at the grid, reminds himself of his forays into acrobatics, aerial silks, and capoeira…and goes.

Phichit should really be doing this, he thinks as he manages to get a hold in a cloth banner above the laser grid, climbing it and then doing a triple somersault to the next one. He’s the one who can cling to surfaces that have friction and can freaking teleport. His eyes are better in the dark, too, but since they couldn’t get the schematics on where the grid stopped or if they continue inside the rooms in the facility (since if Phichit BAMFs into a room full of them, they’ll go off), Yuuri has to do it. 

He tumbles through, avoiding a moving grid with a randomized pattern using the steps from a Paso Doble Minako insisted he learn. There’s not much sound here, but it’s enough and when a random beam almost hits him, he manages to shield himself with a bit of white light at a differeing optical density so it refracts around him. 

Nice, Forge and Nightcrawler say in unison.

Only after doing a full split under the last few does he make it and disables the grid. He’s oddly not sweaty or throwing up or anything. Huh.

Longshot saunters to him, and when they’re face to face, he picks up Yuuri’s right hand, kissing his ring finger and then his cheek, the day’s stubble prickling against Yuuri’s skin in a way that makes his breathing stop and his heart stutter. 

The smell of sulphur and a black bit of smoke heralds Nightcrawler and Forge. Phichit doesn’t need a mask since his daytime appearance with the Image Inducer is one—his gold eyes, deep blue fur, and short fangs make him cute in a sinister manner. His costume is deep red and gold, while Forge wears a sedate gray-blue and black jumpsuit as Chris vetoed his idea for a loud costume like a rainbow.

They find an office with a terminal, and Forge cracks his neck and sets to work. It only takes him a few minutes before he can copy the relevant data. There’s a guard rotation but they timed their entrance with the shift changes. 

It only takes three minutes and they have six more before the gig is up. 

“Done,” Seung Gil says. He pockets the HD. 

“Jěng âh!” Phichit grins and his tail swishes like an excited puppy. The four of them link hands, Longshot giving Dazzler a particularly happy look, and they’re BAMFed out to an alley a couple blocks down.

Longshot pitches forward with a pain-filled cry. 

“Sorry,” Nightcrawler says with a sheepish shrug. “It’s hard on passengers the first…eighteen times.”

“I threw up twice,” Seung Gil adds in a voice that has no comfort whatsover.

Dazzler helps Longshot get back upright. “You okay?”

“It’ll be alright, beautiful,” he answers as Phichit sings some of the lines from Ellie’s “Something in the Way You Move” in the background. 

Yuuri might add it to his rotating encores after he punches Phichit for the heckling. It’s a moot point he forgets, because they end up back at the house Chris bought them—it’s a Park Slope multi-million dollar home that the Giacomettis have owned since it was built. 

Chris perfers a skyscraper’s penthouse so he can stretch his wings…literally, so since this was in disuse, they all moved in. There’s seven bedrooms—Celestino has the master, Seung Gil’s converted the parlor into his sleeping area and work shop, and Phichit keeps waggling his eyebrows that Dazzler and Longshot should double up.

Their rooms are the two on the second floor, which take up the whole thing. They share a bathroom and Yuuri let Victor have the room with the terrace access. 

The cellar has been expanded through the backyard, outfitted with steel walls, soundproofing, and Seung Gil’s hologram tech. It’s a gymnasium on steroids for all of them to refine their skills with their gifts, and boy did Seung Gil get a sour expression when Phichit called it the Danger Room.

He twitches every time someone else says it. He twitches a lot, because it’s caught on.

Chris happens to be waiting in their living and rec room when they get back—he’s discussing something with Celestio. Since he’s not acting as the face of Intoxicated by Giacometti or as a board member of Giacometti Corp, he’s wearing a shirt with a low back so he can have his wings out. 

Seung Gil boots up his computer to run the analysis of what they got. and Phichit BAMFs into the kitchen, returning with a bottle of Mekhong and glasses for everyone filled with ice. He pours and they all take one, though Victor looks at his from every possible angle like it’s poison.

“Mote gaow!” Phichit shouts, and they echo it as they drink.

Victor stares at his glass after his initial sip. He looks confused. 

“It’s more or less rum,” Yuuri explains. Victor doesn’t look like he understands better. Right. Alien. Not from Earth. “Uh, it’s a…sugarcane beverage that can get you drunk.”

Victor lights up. “Ah!” He takes longer sip, and things seem pleasant enough until Seung Gil does a literal sitcom-style spittake at his montior.

“That’s not gonna be fun to clean,” Phichit deadpans. 

“What happened?” Ciao Ciao asks with a serious tone.

“Chris—” Seung Gil begins. “When’s the last time you reviewed GC’s R&D budget?”

Chris pauses, thinks. “Five years ago, if I’m honest. Josef insisted on handling the line items and minutiae so I can be free to do the public appearances and philanthrophy without conflicts.” His expression shifts from thoughtful to grim. “I’m not going to like what you say next, am I?”

“…Let me ask a follow up in that…you’re sure Josef is okay with mutants?”

Yuuri’s spine goes rigid. Even Phichit stops smiling. 

“He’s always told me he is since I presented,” Chris answers with no emotion in his voice.

“Well—” Seung Gil says. “He’s clearly lying. GC-0963 Project: The Right. There’s dozens of mutants in here that have either been abducted for experiments or—”

The silence hangs heavy, leaden with horror and dread.

“How many?” Chris says.

“Chris, maybe—” Ciao Ciao begins.

“How. Many.” Chris snaps.

Seung Gil gives Chris a look uncharacterisically filled with sympathy. “198.”

Phichit gasps, dropping his drink before catching it with his tail.

“They’re imprisoned at a facility out in Montauk,” Seung Gil says. “It’s similar to Supermax but for mutants—they have power dampeners most likely, or they’re sedated.”

“Well, we’ll get them out,” Victor says with resolution and stilted cheer. “It’s a good old fashioned jailbreak!”

“No.” Chris stands, reading the data on Seung Gil’s screen. It all bears out, it seems given the pallor in his face. His eyes look haunted. “We’ll do this in a softer way.”

“You’re hitting him in the board room, then,” Ciao Ciao answers.

“Yeah.” Chris nods. “There’s a nuclear option I can employ with the Board to get him out—and I’m sure we can kill this Project: The Right easily enough too. I don’t want my family name aligned with bigotry or human rights violations, and I’m fairly confident they’ll agree.”

Chris narrows his eyes.

“Plan B though,” he begins. “You all are my Plan B.”

[justmorefandomtrash]

Discovering Who I Am - Minami Week entry 1

Prompt: Friends/Rivals

(AO3 link coming asap)

Ft. Discovering oneself, genderfluid Minami, supportive friends and advice from fellow skaters with similar experiences. Also Minami trys to call out Phichit about his crush on a certain Korean…

This is, although part of Minami week, a continuation of a series of mine on AO3.

I believe that this under a divider thing purely for its length (I hope I did it right, I’ve never done it before)

M: Hey… P: You okay? M: No. P: Eh? Tell me! M: Skype? With you + Ji… P: Sure! 1 no M: Okay.

🌈

“Minami! Turn on your screen!”

“Yo!”

“No one says that anymore dude.”

“Well I do!”

As the pair of them bickered, he shuffled around awkwardly on his blanket pile. Sure, it was an ordinary occurrence for the two of them, but this wasn’t an ordinary conversation for them.

There was a pile of used tissues in the bin and he knew for certain, even without looking in the mirror, that his face was tear stained. Not that he’d be able to see anyway, what with the only light in the room coming from his laptop.

“Hey Minami… Are you okay there? You’re not speaking to us and you sounded rather sad in your texts.”

Phichit and Ji were concerned.

Of course they were.

“Y-yeah it was nothing I’m sorry for bothering you.”

His voice cracked slightly and he winced, pulling his blankets around him closer.

“Minami… Put on your webcam please?” Ji pleaded, tilting his head to one side on the grainy screen.

With shaking hands, he stretched out and clicked the camera on, settling back and burying his hands into his pile of blankets. God… He looked a mess on the screen, hair stuck up in random directions, a baggy T-shirt and shorts and a pile of random blankets. He looked washed out in the light.

“Mini! Have you eaten? Have you drank anything? When was the last time you slept?”

He flinched at the barrage of questions, something that didn’t go unnoticed by the others. There were times where he despised his body, especially now when it gave away his innermost thoughts.

“What’s bothering you?” Phichit, for all his enthusiasm and never ending energy, was calmingin in a way that many weren’t, many couldn’t be.

“I-I… I don’t know how to explain it… Um… Have you ever, like, met anyone who doesn’t fit in with the typical gender categories?”

“Gender’s a social concept to be truthful, and a pretty ridiculous one at that. Some people fit into the binary, others fall onto a spectrum whilst others fall outside it in terms of their identity.” With a smile, Ji counted off the points, Phichit nodding in agreement.

It felt as though a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders at this point. Phichit and Ji knew information that would be useful to him. Would they understand though?

“So… What if I told you that there are times where… It doesn’t feel right? As in, my body doesn’t feel right, it feels too flat or too heavy or too sculpted.” He was rambling now, everything spilling out to two of his closest friends.

“Leo might be better for this sort of thing but they’re not here right now, so I’ll do my best. What you’re saying is that there are days where you’re fine in your body and other days you hate it?”

“Yeah… Like I want to tear my skin to shreads and crawl up into a ball and not do anything. Not even eat or drink, which is ridiculous because I know that I have to.” He pauses for a moment, cocking his head to the side in thought. “Is that strange? I feel like is.”

“Nope. Yuuri described feeling similar, though perhaps not quite as intense when she was with me in Detroit.”

“She?” He winced at his tone, not intending to sound accusatory. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like that.”

“No worries! She’s okay with other skaters knowing her pronouns and that and we were skyping, would it be early morning in Russia? Anyway, we were skyping today when she declared it a femme day.” With a smile, he rapidly pulled out his phone and began tapping away, most likely a text to Yuuri.

“Leo’s described something similar too, but only on their worst days. It’s why their nails are so short, just in case.” A fond look came over Ji’s face as he though about Leo, jumping as their voice echoed through the house as the door opened.

“In the bedroom skyping Phi and Mini!”

A quiet response left Ji blushing and burying his face in his hands, much to Phichit’s amusement. He managed a small smile, not quite sure if it was convincing or not.

“Oh my god… They’re so cheesy.”

Phichit giggled at Ji’s blush and dreamy smile, fanning his face.

“What about you Seung huh? You two are just as bad!”

“Are not!”

“Are too!”

“Are not!”

“Are t- ah, sorry sunshine! We’ll keep it down. Shhh Phi, let’s not get distracted now from the point of this call. We’re here to help Mini.” He tugged the blankets back onto his shoulders as the attention focused back on him.

“Are there days were you feel more feminine?” Considering the question, he nodded.

“There are days where I feel masculine, days where I feel both and days where I feel like neither. Are you… Are you saying that there’s a name for it?” It would be a lie to say that he wasn’t excited at the prospect of finding a label and not feeling so…

Out of place.

Phichit scrambled around on his bed, muttering in Thai under his breath. Holding his phone up in triumph, he squinted briefly as it illuminated his face.

“Yuuri reckons that it would be called x-gender in Japan, but what’s the European term?”

“Nonbinary?”

“No no, not quite. That’s completely outside of the binary, no, oh god there was someone in our college…” Phichit threw himself backwards onto his bed with a dramatic groan.

“You mean genderfluid? That seems to be the closest to what you’re looking for.” The trio jumped at the new voice, Ji shrieking as Leo sat down onto the bed next to him. They chuckled and pressed a kiss to his forehead before turning to face the laptop.

“Genderfluid is the term for someone who’s gender identity spans the entire gender spectrum. Have you thought about pronouns yet?”

“Pronouns?”

His question was echoed by Phichit who looked incredibly confused at this point, probably because he’d been texting again and not following the conversation.

“Some people when they figure out their identity use different pronouns for themselves, like I did. I changed to using gender neutral pronouns, and Yuuri uses a range don’t they?”

“Yeah she does. I understand now, i just lost track of the conversation. Yuuri’s sent me a screenshot of a table of gender neutral pronouns, do you want me to forward it to you later to look over?” With a gentle smile, he held up his phone. On it was a series of texts from Yuuri, all containing advice for Phichit to pass on.

“Tell her thank you from me please. I… I don’t mind if you use my name.”

The conversation quickly dissolved into giggles and lighter topics, agreeing to refer to him by his current pronouns until he’d found a set he was comfortable with.

By the time he’d exited the Skype call and settled down to sleep, they’d made plans to meet up and go shopping the next week.

🌈

Over the course of the week, Minami had done several things.

They’d tried refering to themselves with different pronouns from the table Phichit had forwarded to them, eventually settling when they couldn’t pronounce half of them (yet).

They’d managed to successfully send an email to the one and only Katsuki Yuuri who just so happened to be their idol, and had maintained a conversation with them.

Finally, they’d come out to their brother (admittedly over Skype but it counted) who’d in turn come out as bisexual. After much deliberation between the two of them, they’d come to the conclusion that they were probably pansexual considering how they fell in love with anyone and everyone who was their type.

It had been a tiring week.

And now they were stood in front of the mirror and wishing their chest wasn’t so flat. It was frustrating, this detachment from their own body. With a groan, they tugged on a Pusheen T-shirt (the only feminine one they had at that moment but it would do, and it seemed to calm the agitation in their chest) and black skinny jeans before turning back to the mirror. Patting their butt in quiet delight, they winked and laughed as they watched their reflection mimick them. A notification startled them and they dived onto their bed, snatching their phone up and frowning at the unknown number.

U: Hey there M: Who is this? U: Oh u don’t have my number? U: this is Chris M: As in the Swiss guy? U: Giacometti to u! M: Hold on let me rename you M: Done C: I won’t keep u long because I heard u were going out but I wanted 2 tell u that I hope u find something u feel good in today M: Thanks C: Let me know if there’s anything I can get for u C: Now go shop u beautiful human being!

Chuckling, they threw their phone down and pulled on their socks, quickly followed by a pair of black converse. It wouldn’t take long for Phichit to pick them up from the hotel, then only a short time more for them to meet with the others at the mall. It had been a bit of a pain to get tickets from Japan at such short notice but they were nothing but resourceful. Snatching up their pastel backpack, they slipped their phone into their back pocket and checked that they’d got everything they needed for the day.

“Phone, wallet, jacket in case it rains, drink… Keys! Keys! How the hell am I supposed to lock the room up if I don’t have my keys?” Huffing in annoyance, their eyes swept over the room until they caught the shine of the keys on the desk in the corner. Triumphantly, they skipped over and swung their backpack onto their shoulders, picking them up and glancing around the room once more. Deciding that they didn’t need anything else, they opened the door, smiling at the other patrons and locking the door behind them. Pulling their phone out, they sent a quick text to Phichit.

M: I’m on my way down now :D P: Almost there, see u soon :p

Laughing, they slipped their phone into their back pocket and walked into the lift, thanking the teen already inside for holding it. Settling against the side, they felt the familiar lurch of the lift going down.

“Excuse me…” They jumped, turning to face the person opposite them.

“Yes?”

“I-I didn’t mean to startle you! Sorry…”

“It’s okay,” with a bright smile they checked the floor number, “I guess I was lost in thought. How can I help?”

“I was wondering, are you Kenjirou Minami? As in, the Japanese figure skater?”

Their eyes widened in surprise at being recognised before they nodded. It wasn’t often that fans approached them, startling them every time one did.

“Ah! I’m a huge fan! Your skating is amazing a-and oh god people always say that I’m too over the top at times, I hope I’m not being too invasive.”

“No no, it’s perfectly fine. You… You like my skating?”

“Yes! My friends and I sometimes try to recreate your routines but we can never replicate your energy.” They paused for a moment, nervously fidgeting with their phone. “Could I please possibly have a photo with you? I wouldn’t post it without your permission of course, it’s just, it’s always been a dream of mine to meet you.”

The hopefulness in their eyes reminded them of back when they were a huge fan of Yuuri, back before they’d made their acquaintance and realised that the person behind the skating was much more human than they could ever have dared to hope. Much more amazing as a person too.

“Sure, as long as I can take one too. That okay?”

“Yes, yes, perfectly okay with me!”

With a smile, they pulled out their phone again, opening up the camera app. After a couple of photos, the door opened on the fan’s floor and they jumped out, promising to tag them before they were separated by the lift door. Their last glimpse of the fan was them being swept along by people they guessed were their friends, all jumping around in delight. Giggling, they stepped out into the lobby on the floor below, waving to Phichit who waved back enthusiastically.

“Yoohoo! The others are almost there, let’s go your majesty!”

“Your majesty?” The confusion must have been obvious, even to Phichit who was dragging them through the crowds that had gathered.

“One time someone was being a dick to Yuuri about what pronouns he used and he snapped, turning around and yelling ‘your majesty to you peasant’. I wish I’d got it on camera to be honest. Oh, he wishes you good luck by the way and sends his apologies for not being here with us.”

“Oh…”

As they let Phichit’s words sink in, they peered over his shoulder at his phone.

Seung-gil Lee huh?

“Texting your boyfriend are we?”

Phichit shrieked, throwing his phone into the air before scrambling to catch it. They laughed in amusement as he clutched his phone to his chest, denying everything.

“N-no, we’re not dating! We just swapped numbers at Worlds last season!”

“Uh huh… The blush gives you away Phichit.”

“Gives what away?”

They both screamed as someone spoke behind them, spinning to be greeted by a grinning Leo and Ji.

“Oh you know, just talking about Phichit’s crush on S-”

A hand cut them off, Phichit denying anything and everything. The amused chuckles from the duo told them that they didn’t believe Phichit. Everyone in their little group knew about Phichit’s crush on Seung-gil Lee, the one and only Korean skater (at least, the only one they’d talked to).

“Come on, I need a new skirt today! And we need to find something for Minami.” Leo whined, tugging on Ji’s arm.

Sometimes it was difficult to remember who was the older out of the two.

They let themselves be dragged along, eyes wandering around the mall as the others chattered. They’d never really let themselves even consider looking at 'female’ clothes before and now it was strangely satisfying to note the larger range available to them.

“We’ll start small, one shop to begin with and if we don’t all find something we’ll look at another. Is that okay with you Minami?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.”

Looking up, they were greeted with cheerful smiles all round, and an outstretched hand from Leo.

“Ready?”

Nodding, they took their first steps into the store, a cheery shop assistant bounding over to help.

“Good morning! Leo, Ji, great to see you again. And you two, this is your first time here? Name’s Mina, she/her pronouns please and you?” She looked at them expectantly, almost blinding them with her dazzling smile.

“Minami, they/them pronouns please.”

“Name’s Phichit, he/him pronouns please.”

“Great to meet you all,” and it sounds like she genuinely means it too, “Is there anything I can assist you with today?”

They look to Leo for support, who smiles and nods their head, Phichit shaking his and wandering off the the makeup section.

“A-ah… I’m looking for something feminine. Like a skirt or something.” They sigh in relief, the words easier to say than they originally thought.

“Sure. I have a couple you can try out. Just give me a moment to get them.”

She bustled away, humming a happy tune. Ji squeezed Leo’s hand and whispered in their ear. He smiled, before making his way towards the shoes, muttering about needing a new pair of heels.

“Excited?”

They jumped, barely acknowledging Leo’s question.

“I was when JJ brought me here to buy my first skirt. I don’t think I could have chosen a better person to come with at the time. Who knew JJ had such a good fashion sense?”

Giggling, Leo started flicking through the skirts on the railings, folding a couple over their arm.

“When you try on your’s, I’ll try on mine as well, make you feel better yeah?”

“Yeah, that would be nice.” Leo’s smile made all their worries fade away, even as they were handed a selection of skirts by the assistant and guided to the changing rooms.

Smiling nervously, they stepped inside and shut the curtains, hanging the skirts up. The selection looked like they had been chosen to match their Pusheen t-shirt, something that made them smile. Slipping their shoes off, they wiggled out of their jeans and pushed them to one side. Taking a deep breath, they flicked through the skirts, settling on a black skater skirt. Unhooking it from the hanger, they held it against themselves and looked in the mirror.

They looked beautiful.

With great care, they stepped into the skirt and pulled it up to rest on their hips. Staring at the mirror, they wiggle their hips, smiling in delight as the skirt swishes around their thighs.

Their thighs look beautiful in the skirt.

Leaning over their shoulder, they pat their butt again.

“Damn… I look good in a skirt. Hey Leo! Can I show you the skirt?”

“Sure.”

They hear the curtain of the room next door open and they peek out, waving to Leo.

“Ready?” They don’t think they can stop smiling at this point.

The skirt feels right in a way little else has felt before.

Pushing the curtain aside, they stepped out, watching their face carefully.

“Ji! Phichit! Come look at how pretty Minami looks!”

Preening at the praise, they spun on the spot, laughing as it spun out into a circle. The others came over, both holding various bags. One moment, they’re looking over them approvingly, the next they find themselves enveloped by several pairs of arms.

“You look beautiful Minami. Don’t let anyone tell you any different.”

—

@ken_Minami Thanks for the great day guys! I couldn’t ask for better friends

@no1minamifan Thank you @ken_Minami for the photos today! Best idol ever!

@ken_Minami @no1minamifan It was wonderful meeting you too!