#fluff-puff peaks special

[saphirered]

for the prompts list - cinnamon sweet with Lucien please and thank you :)

Here you go! Loads of fluff and Lucien being Lucien so I hope you like it! 😘

It’s that time of the year Lucien would love to forget all together. The leaves have turned and fallen, the harvests have passed and all is in a slow state of decay. To think he once lived in a perpetual state of autumn seems a different life altogether, and one he would prefer to keep dead and buried. He’s really grown to hate autumn with a passion and he truly can’t wait until winter comes creeping in. At least frozen wastes haunting shadows bring more comfort than what he endured. Yet here you are, wrapped in your knits, wrapped him in them too, excited for the yellows and reds and oranges, the smell of autumn at its peak, the fresh harvests and festivals that accompany it. Here you are loving everything he’s avoided for so long. He doesn’t have the heart to tell you. If anything he hopes that perhaps through you he can endure and grow to like the season again and not feel like he slips into depression every time he spirals into those dark memories. It’s not your fault and he doesn’t want to spoil your fun. Maybe you can teach him how to love the autumn glow once more. 

“Remind me again why you insist in being here, outside in the cold when we could be warm and cozy inside by the hearth instead?” Lucien asks when you sit him down on the wooden bench in the garden. The majority has wilted, or been prepared to endure the coming winter, and while somewhat eery it is still beautiful in its own way. The wind blows the remaining leaves from the trees bit by bit casting a blanket upon the ground making it impossible to distinguish path from grass and unmarked flowerbeds. You hold two ceramic mugs in your hands when you take a seat next to him. Though your proximity does not quite transfer heat, he still feels warmer with you there. 

“Because, my dear Lucien, I want you to experience this properly.” He raises a questioning eyebrow but you are persistent and push the mugs into his hands. Completely at a loss of what to do with them he holds them. The contents seem to be milk. Just milk. He expected something like a tea maybe but the mugs are cold. 

“What now?” He asks when you look at him as if he’s supposed to know what to do now. 

“I need you to heat them up.” You chirp excitedly. A soft smile graces his lips but quickly turns cocky as it often does. 

“Glad to know you keep me around as your personal heater and servant. Shall it be steaming, boiling or evaporated, my dearest?” You cross your arms. Normally he would flick your nose playfully when you puff but he’s half sure you’ll kill him if he drops this mug so he refrains and instead pecks your nose and does as he’s told. Your crossed arms slack and the flush to your cheeks certainly isn’t because of the cold air.

“You have plenty of other uses too.” You tease back reaching for the box you’d brought. He’s not entirely sure how you managed to carry this all. You open the box and inside reveals two chocolate orbs. “I know you like hot chocolate but this one’s special.” You gently drop the orbs in the steaming hot milk each. Slowly but surely the chocolate begins to melt and inside, fluffy little clouds emerge floating on the surface. Lucien looks confused. 

“Dare I ask what this poison is you’re trying to feed me?” 

“They’re marshmallows. They happen to go very well with hot chocolate but there’s one more secret ingredient-“ You reach into your pocket and take the vial you’d stolen from the pantry. 

“Unconditional love and affection?” Lucien interrupts but you don’t miss a beat.

“-two more secret ingredients.” You correct yourself at his quip much to his amusement. You remove the lid from the vial of brown powder. Carefully you sprinkle a modest amount on top. When you do he catches on. Cinnamon. Curious. 

“So you are trying to cover the smell and taste of poison.” You take one of the mugs from him and clasp  it between your hands, cold fingers instantly warming. You scoff and roll your eyes. 

“While poison is poetic I think a dagger through the heart after a passionate night is far more.” You deadpan taking a sip. Lucien shrugs in agreement. 

“A satisfying end to be sure.” You snort and cough as your nose burns. The amusement in Lucien’s eyes is replaced by concern until you assure him you’re alright. “I think you might have mixed up the poisoned mug, love.” He pats your back as you recover and when you do he simply rubs circles allowing his hand to warm you and offer some relief. 

“One way to find out.” Your voice is still hoarse but you’re alright and take another sip of your drink. Finally he takes his first sip. Closely you study his reaction. First it is intrigue; the way he does a double-take, then a hint of confusion trying to figure out his senses. Next comes consideration. A raised eyebrow as he takes a second sip. Then his shoulders relax and he leans back on the bench. He nods to himself and takes another big sip when he notices you staring. 

“I take it you like it then?” You ask gingerly. He smiles and nods. 

“It reminds me of you so yes.” 

“How so?”

“You remind me of sweet things and cinnamon.” The flush to your cheeks darken. Cute. Of course he has to ruin the moment. Can’t let it get to your head. “You taste like it too.” This time you’re prepared though, unfazed you take another sip, rise to your feet and take a few steps away from him. You look over your shoulder, look him straight in the eye in a way that dares him to move. He knows he’s in trouble. 

“Let’s keep it a special treat then. Wouldn’t want you to get sick of the taste.” Now it’s his time to choke on the sip he took. Not what he was expecting, and certainly not the sultry expression on your face as you sway your hips through the invisible garden path and back to the porch, one there you take one last sip, looking at him over the edge of your mug. You step inside leaving the door open behind you. Lucien does not need to be told twice. He downs the cinnamon hot chocolate, the taste lingering on his tongue and follows your tracks inside.

[blueberrybladelemonade]

Winter's Warmth

aka Cae's

❄Winter Special❄

Summary: Going outside with Peppino as the first snow of the season falls, freezing hands and fluffy antics ensue. 

Contains: Good morning snow and quality time together, ice skating (poorly), mentions of that one song everyone seems to hate (you're wrong if you hate it lol), Hand holding and kisses, Fluff. 

The chill of the morning lingers, the tips of your fingers tingling as you stand in place. With another shiver you shove your hands into your coat pockets, tilting your head to look down the street as you wait. Everything as far as the eye could see was covered in a white glittering blanket of snow. 

A breath in then a puff of smoke escapes your lips as you exhale.

Thick clouds caused the sky look darker and calming. The early sunlight was soft and casted everything in a comforting grey as it peaked through the clouds. It barely warmed the back of your neck though, as another breeze seemingly chilled you to the core. 

You're snapped out if your thoughts at the sound of the door swinging open. You watch as Peppino turns the lock, jostling the doorknob to ensure it wouldn't open. Satisfied with this, he beams, making his way down the steps to you.

You smile at Peppino, wearing his jade green jacket along with the the cozy blue scarf you bought for him. Your neck prickles again at being exposed to the icy breeze.

Maybe you should've worn yours after all. 

Peppino leans in, greeting you with a loving kiss. As you pull away and look at him, noticing how dozens of tiny snowflakes had already dusted the top of his head and clothes. He smiles at you, both of you happy about this gorgeous view and seeing each other.

Snow crunches beneath your feet as you walk down the street together. Peppino holds your hand, occasionally looking to the side to grin at you. His hand is warm, a lovely and welcome contrast to the cold bite of the air. Gently his thumb rubs across your knuckles.

As another gust of wind blows through you, making your teeth inadvertently begin to chatter. 

"It's not-a that cold Y/N." Peppino replies, laughing lightly. Though his words betrayed him as Peppino shivers as well, huddling closer to you as you both continue your stroll. Wordlessly you smile as Peppino tugs your hand into his pocket. 

Everything as far as you could see was a placid white. Specks of color dotted the open fields as people strolled and trudged through the snow. The usual hum and whirr of vehicles was noticeably less as well. Either muffled by the snow or due to not wanting to leave the warmth of their homes, it was a welcome silence. 

Your stagger as a particular spot of snow was deeper than you expected. The grip on your hand tightened as Peppino tugged you closer to help you regain your step. "Careful mia cara". You mutter a "thank you", wincing as you feel snow enter and melt in your boot. 

Nearby you spot a bench, wordlessly changing direction to make your way to it. You and Peppino take a seat, farther from the people having a snowball fight in the distance. What you didn't expect was Peppino pull off his scarf before leaning against your head and shoulder to wrap the scarf around the both of you. He wraps an arm around your waist to pull you closer and nuzzles you. "You looked cold".

You could stay like this for hours, almost feeling glued to the bench. Or maybe that's because you started to feel numb from the waist down. Though an idea started to form in your mind as you recalled something earlier in the week.  

"Call me crazy...but I have an idea." You gesture a distance away, Peppino trying to decipher where you were looking. He quirks an eyebrow, giving up at only seeing buildings that have always been there. 

Though further in the distance, as he squinted through the snow, there was a massive tent in the open field.

Peppino shuddered and it wasn't from the chill this time. 

Che cavolo. 

* * * * * 

The rink was relatively empty with ice skaters. Though the few on the rink themselves were chatting and having a good time. Outside of the barriers were sparse groups laughing over their warm drinks and snacks. You led Peppino over to the long counter towards the left of where you entered. 

His feet felt heavy as he reluctantly followed you. Peppino decided that he would just watch you on the ice. There's no doubt you would be better at ice skating than him. 

The cashier across from you both was a woman with mid length brown hair with a streak of blue in it.

"Skates for two please." You chirp, watching as she turned her back to you, grabbing a few things from the shelf before setting them down on the countertop. After you hand her the money, the cashier tilts her head to the side in a gesture. 

“The lockers are on the far side, across from the drink stand." was all she said as you looked down at the two sets of skates, padlock, and key. 

"Y/N...this is-a bad idea." Peppino balks, eyes flicking to the ice rink then back to your outstretched hand holding the skates. "You are crazy if you expect-a me to put those on"!

You remain motionless in place, offering Peppino a nervous smile in response. As if that would persuade him. 

You remain motionless in place, offering Peppino a nervous smile in response. As if that would persuade him. 

"I've only-a done something like this years ago..." Peppino continues to protest, shaking his head and racking his brain for just how long ago he had went ice skating.

"Once." He finally replies.

More silence hung in the air as you both stared awkwardly at each other. A puff of frosty breath escaped Peppino's lips as he huffs at you. "Fine. If I fall and break-a my back, you're paying my-a hospital bill". 

You grin grows as Peppino finally takes the skates from you, sitting down on the bench to tie them on. Barely audible and almost a whisper you could hear him mumbling to himself "I'm-a too old-a for this shi-" You cheered more to yourself than anything as Peppino put them on, your eyes sparkling as Peppino finished tying his skates and wobbled unsteadily to his feet.

Peppino followed you to one of the openings in the barriers surrounding the rink. As the two of you entered the rink your leg nearly slid out from under you immediately. Peppino staggered as well, hand instantly gripping the fence perimeter.

"This is how I-a die. Not from stress-a induced heart attack, but from icy-a hell of slip and die." he snaps at you. 

Truth be told, you were also horrendous at ice skating. How you hadn't crashed to the ground yet -in the first minute- was a miracle in itself. 

Minutes passed like this, almost frozen in place as you both struggled to remain balanced. You looked down at your intertwined hands and your heart began to beat quicker. With another deep breath you took another tiny step on the smooth, freezing surface. 

And then you felt yourself slip and slump forward. 

"Merd-" was all Peppino got out before both of your skates shot out from beneath your feet, both of you crashing painfully to the floor. You let out a yelp as he lands on top of you.

Peppino groans then, “Mio dios! Y/N, are you okay?!” He hastily braced himself up and onto his hands, hovering over you concerned. 

"Mm-fine." You rub the back of your head, shifting beneath him to prop yourself up on your forearms. In a relieved sigh, Peppino let out a low nervous laugh, pushing himself back up to sit on his knees. 

"I told-a you this was a bad idea mia cara". 

You rise to your feet again, helping Peppino as well. Just as he's about to stumble again you catch his arms to steady him, giving a loud snort through your nose. You both grumbled, legs wobbling as Peppino struggled to keep his balance. His eyes darted to yours anxiously, waiting for your next movement. 

Your fingers gripped his forearms firmly, giving him a tentative smile as you released one of his arms. Instead you cautiously made your way to Peppino's side and took his other hand, tucking it into the crook of your elbow. 

He shot you a hesitant nod as your eyes met again before your feet pushed off. Now gliding across the ice at a snail's pace. 

For the next hour the two of you skated on the rink. Skate being a very loose term for the both of you. It was more appropriate to say stagger, face plant, and move at the speed of molasses on the rink. 

"See? I knew we'd get the hang of t-" you felt your foot get caught, abruptly halting you and almost launching Peppino straight into the rink’s perimeter fence. He yelped but your locked hands yanked him back with a stagger.

Unfortunately, Peppino lost his own footing, colliding with you. You exclaimed suddenly at losing your balance, tripping him over as you fell with him.

"Yeowch! Y/N!” Peppino groaned, lying flat on his back on the ice. He rubbed his eyes groggily, tilting his head to see you lying beside him, on your stomach. "I-a think we should quit. I'ma going to be sore for weeks".

Face still in your arms with the ice against your cheek, you groan in agreement, giving a thumbs up. 

* * * * * 

You leant your head against Peppino's shoulder, looking at the moon from the porch. The falling snowflakes shimmered in moonlight, making them look like tiny stars as the snow began once more. Above, massive cumulus clouds lazily rolled through the sky, their edges a bright white from the moon they hid. 

It had only gotten colder as the night crept on. In your free hands you both were holding a mug of your favorite hot drinks. Peppino gave a hum of approval as his head rested against yours. The comfortable feeling of shared warmth and company as the day drew to a close was all he wanted. 

"Even in this-a snow, I never feel cold when you're close to me." Peppino mutters. You tilt your head to face him, his face illuminated by the moonlight as he smiles warmly at you.  

Peppino drew his face closer, to the point you could feel his breathe down neck. You set your mug to the side and caressed his face. His skin was as cold as the snow on the ground as you let your thumb glide across his lower lip.

You meet his lips with your own in a kiss. Contrasting starkly to the icy chill around you, his lips were warmer than you imagined. 

As you both part for air, Peppino nudges you to your feet. "Come on amore, let'sa go inside".

The warm rush of air that greets you as you enter his house makes you sigh contently. You follow suit as Peppino removes his jacket and sets it on the nearby table. "I'll be right-a back." He tugs at your hand, directing you to the sofa.

As you sink into the couch you watch as Peppino disappears into the hallway, out of sight. The TV was left on, albeit on very low volume. Making out the words of the song playing had your lips twitch into a smile. 

I just want you for my own.

More than you could ever know. 

Very faintly you can hear the crinkle of a bag and footsteps draw nearer as Peppino returned from his room. 

"This is for you..." Peppino set a large bag beside you on the couch before taking a seat to the opposite side. He smiles as you open the bag, revealing a large fluffy blanket. 

In an instant you unfold it and throw your arms around Peppino, draping the both of you under the blanket. He laughs before sputtering, "Get your-a cold hands off-a me!" he playfully swats at your hands. 

Ignoring his protests, you attempt to put your hand under his shirt again but are stopped as he grabs your wrist. You both smile as Peppino plants a kiss against your palm and pulls you into his lap. 

"I love you Y/N." He holds you just a bit tighter as he says this. In response you touch your forehead to his, kissing the bridge of his nose.

"I love you too, Pino".

Peppino enjoys being by your side and always will, you would never doubt that. As this year draws to a close, you look forward to the year ahead and also to another year of being with the one you love. 

Your eyes feel heavy against his embrace, warm and loving. You feel Peppino shift until you're both laying down on the couch. His arms remaining wrapped around you, buried in your neck as you both drift off to sleep.

Oh, baby, all I want for Christmas is you

[onyxedskies]

lucina/inigo fluff? how about this prompt: ❝ you're not alone. you'll never be alone. not as long as i'm here. ❞

hi var ily tysm

word count: 1004

The sky was pretty.

Lucina sat perched in a tree, leaning against the trunk with one leg dangling off the branch as she listened to birdsong and the sound of children playing in the market not far off. The setting sun painted the clouds a whole host of colors–pinks and oranges and purples that part of her had once resigned herself to never seeing again, the sun and its art hidden away by thick clouds of magic and ash.

She let the thoughts of Grima come and go idly, knowing that while the damage he did was real, it was in the past. In her past. She knew she wouldn't have to worry. Not now. Not ever again.

She closed her eyes as she tilted her head back, enjoying the warm wind that ruffled the leaves and her dress. She could smell honeysuckle and citrus on the breeze, and she knew if she turned her head slightly she would be able to see Father and Aunt Lissa eating oranges in the orchard, no doubt while Owain and Gerome attempted to hide the way they practically clung to the fence with the flowers and sucked the sweet nectar from them when they thought they wouldn't be spotted. She chuckled quietly to herself as she imagined it.

How wonderful it had been, when she realized flowers still grew in this world. When she realized anything still grew in this world, other than the mosses and mushrooms that preferred a shady atmosphere.

She opened her eyes when she heard rustling, languidly tilting her head and smiling when she realized that it was just Inigo, climbing up the tree to sit by her side. He looked up at her and offered a smile, the little, bashful one that only she was ever privy to. It made something warm bubble in her chest, as though he'd managed to capture sunlight and put it directly where her heart should be. (She had no doubt that if she asked, he'd find a way to do exactly that.)

"Hi, love," she said, smiling and breathless as the sun caught his hair at just the right angle, sending beautiful ripples of orange flame across the pink. Warm brown eyes smiled back at her, coming up beside her as he situated himself on a branch that was slightly lower but sturdy on the same.

"Hello, my star," he replied, and Lucina felt herself blush. She wondered if she'd ever get accustomed to the nickname, the idea behind it all. She found herself hoping that every time it was just as novel, just as special, as it was now. It was a feeling she knew she'd always cherish.

Lucina eyed the other branch for a moment, determing how thick it was the further out it went, before adjusting herself and managing to climb around, situating herself next to him. He chuckled at her antics, kissing her cheek as she sat next to him before resting his head on her shoulder. She wrapped her arm around him, leaning her head atop his with a smile.

"Any reason you came up here?" she murmured, smiling at the puff of air she felt on her neck in response.

"Just didn't want to be alone," Inigo replied, and Lucina tightened her grip on him.

"You're not alone," she said. "You'll never be alone. Not as long as I'm here."

She felt him smile against the skin of her shoulder, something broad but genuine, and he relaxed even more into her grip. "I know," he said, and Lucina smiled.

They sat like that, facing west as they watched the sun dip below the horizon. Inigo's breathing was deep and even, but she knew he wasn't asleep. He wouldn't be, not until long after the moon had reached his peak and the stars twinkled brightly in the sky, immortalizing the stories that Owain and Inigo alike had spun for her since their youth (the ones she pretended not to remember if only to see the joy in their eyes when they got to explain it again).

"I can't wait to marry you," Inigo murmured eventually, as the first stars made their light known. Lucina had no doubt that seeing them had sparked the thought, but her face still heated as she remembered the ring on her finger, the weight of it familiar and novel all at once.

"And I you," Lucina replied. She pressed a chaste kiss to his forehead, and he tiled his head to do the same to the bottom of her jaw.

She shuffled around a little, leaning her back up against the tree, and Inigo followed, leaning back against her when she gestured for him too. They could better see the sky, this way, as dew began to form on the leaves and the night grew slightly colder around them.

Lucina drew idle patterns into the fabric of Inigo's shirt, and he began to mumble legends she had heard again and again yet found herself never tiring of, the melodies of his words carrying comfort and familiarity with them. His voice was rich and smooth and him, and Lucina thought that if he told her anything in that voice she would find herself enamored.

He was her strength. But he was also her weakness, she had come to realize. He gave her extra shields, extra muscle, extra speed. But with that, he gave her a place to let it all down, to shed off the mask and just be her. Let her be his star. And she knew he felt the same, could see it in the way his eyes became guarded and his shoulders became tense when others were around, but how they relaxed so quickly wen it was just them, just Lucina calling him her strength, her sun.

And as he rambled on about the legends associated with different constellations, as she traced each one out on his shoulder, his chest, his stomach, she decided that this was the life that she wanted to keep.

[sketch-pencilpoint]

The other day (friday) I finally beat a mario wonder level that was giving me hell (fluff puff peaks special level) so I drew the character I was playing as to commemorate the fact (this is an oc now his name is blu)

[geraldthellama]

This is as far as I've managed to get on this level after SIX CONSECUTIVE HOURS OF ATTEMPTING TO DO IT. I'm officially calling it quits to sleep and narrowly avoid carpal tunnel

I've probably restarted my game to get my lives back around 20 times

To whoever made "Fluff-Puff Peaks Special Climb to the Beat", I hope you step on the sharpest, more unexpected Lego to ever be strewn on the floor.

[marykris]

"Fluff-Puff Peaks Special Climb to the Beat" is so hard. I lost so many lives. My hand hurts. But I never have to see this level ever again.

[blueengland]

FLUFF PUFF PEAKS' SPECIAL STAGE FEELS SO GOOD TO BEAT OMG

[yuzukult]

twenty-five (m) || kmg & reader

title: twenty-five (m) pairing: kim mingyu x fem!reader/oc genre: fluff, smut, pregnant!oc, soon-to-be-dad!mingyu, marriage!au, established relationship!au wc: 3.5k summary: it’s mingyu’s birthday but you can’t exactly do what you’ve always done. warnings: smut scene. unprotected + pregnancy sex (i mean,,), oral (m. receiving)  a/n: .. i’ve decided i’ll post it before i end up changing my mind about putting this up so,,, enjoy. happy belated birthday mingyu,,,,... :|

You’re tempted to rip this entire closet apart.

Nothing fits—that signature black bodycon dress you wore in college to almost every event, that pretty white top that used to hug your tits so well, and those go-to trousers you’d wear to work that made your ass look perky—nothing fucking fits anymore. That dress can’t hold the capacity that is your stomach, your tits spill out of that white top (unflatteringly too), and how the fuck are you supposed to button your trousers when you’re in your second trimester looking like a whole ass balloon.

But Mingyu thinks otherwise.

He always thinks otherwise.

You should’ve planned ahead, but in honesty, with things happening at work and how shitty you’ve been feeling, the urge to plan something proper wasn’t in the cards. It’s his birthday today and the most you could do was whip up a nice steak dinner at home, get him a bottle of wine that he would indulge for himself and you, then that’s when a last minute thought came to mind that maybe you’ll wear something sexy for him to pull off later.

That is, if it could even fit.

When the fuck could you wear this little ass lingerie? The thong barely passes your thighs and the bra is exposed at the back because you can’t seem to latch it on. The embroidery is cute, to say the least, with black lace and sheer mesh, but when you’ve got a stomach so round that your breasts rest on it, you don’t really feel as cute as you’re supposed to in something like this.

What's with this tutu-like material that hangs over your stomach anyways? It’s supposed to end at your waist, instead stopping in the middle of your tummy with your belly button out.

Hand on the doorframe, you puff your cheeks. It’s exhausting just trying to get it on and it wasn’t even on correctly. This is the only thing that sort of fits because just from the looks of the other tops, they look like they’re straight from a porno with just nipple coverage. Then again, that’s the point, right? To seduce?

But would Mingyu even find you remotely sexy when you can barely even get any of this shit on?

Maybe you should just take this off and wear sweats. He probably wouldn’t want to fuck, but maybe you’ll suck him off or give him a handjob instead—who would want to fuck a pregnant woman?

“Uh, what are you doing?”

Freezing, your feet are rooted into the ground.

His footsteps come closer, his brows furrowed as he peaks into the closet to see your current stance. Back slightly bent, arm resting on the doorframe, your panties at your thighs and your bra unfastened. If anything, you feel zero ounces of sexy in this lingerie that’s supposed to give you confidence.

“Baby?” He calls out; the expression on his face slowly contorts into an adoring one, softening his features as a smile tugs on the edges of his lips. He’s got on a beige dress up shirt with the first few buttons undone with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He was returning from some big client meeting for his company, coming home late despite it being his own birthday.

“Baby,” he reiterates, this time more lovingly and less saturated in concern. “What did I do in my past life that I deserve to see my pretty wife trying on lingerie for me on my special day?”

“I don’t know, did you murder someone?”

He chuckles, thick and sweet like honey, arms out to reach for you. “More like, I probably saved a whole village from a huge fire. Maybe I even fed and clothed them.”

You scoff. “I’m not sure if I agree with that. Have you seen me?”

Mingyu pulls you into his embrace, pressing a gentle kiss against your forehead. “Why do you act like we don’t have sex at least twice a week even when you’re in your sweatpants and hoodie with Cheeto stains on it?”

Flustered, you hide your face into the firmness of his chest. You hated when he got all cheesy like this—which would be all the goddamn fucking time, especially in moments like these when you’re left unsure on how to reply.

“Okay, but everyone has needs and has to get off.”

“I mean, I don’t think I have to fuck to survive, but I do if my wife looks good walking around the house like that.”

Shoving away from him, you give Mingyu a side-eye glare. “I was supposed to try seducing you in this lingerie set but it dawned on me that I should’ve prepared earlier since I can’t wear anything I used to wear.” With a sigh, you reach over to push him out to shut the closet door but Mingyu doesn’t allow that with his hand pressed against the door.

“What are you doing?”

“Changing back into my sweatsuit, duh. What else?”

He blinks blankly. “I don’t care that it doesn’t fit, I’m gonna take it off anyway. Not fitting only means the first step was done for me.”

Rolling your eyes, you shuffle to take off the black lace thong that gets sucked up by your ass instead of complimenting it. “You can just say I’m round and ugly now, I won’t be hurt. My stomach is rounder than those fucking yoga balls.”

Mingyu sighs, tugging on your arm to get you to face him. “Okay, I get it. But I’d never lie to you—one, because I’m slightly afraid of what you’re capable of and two, because I love you. I think you’re beautiful, and yes, your stomach is as big as a yoga ball—”

You shoot a glare.

“—but you’re carrying the product of our love. Our baby. Halfsies on the genes. I’ll always think you’re pretty, and I’ll always love you. You’re also giving up a lot right now, and the fact that you’re still thinking of getting me off when your feet are sore and swollen, when you’re tired from a long day of work—I don’t deserve that.”

Pulling your lips into a straight line, you remain silent for a second.

With Mingyu, even when you’re practically an oompa loompa and could be rolled out of the house, he’d still ask if he could bend you over and fuck you into tomorrow. He’s so blinded by his love for you that you wondered what he drank growing up that made him his way, but seeing as how his parents are, it makes sense.

You’re insecure, and you have every right to be. Your body is changing drastically, you can’t even wear the clothes you used to, and you can’t even reach your toes that well anymore.

But maybe you’ll save all of the worries for another day. Mingyu cherishes and loves you every other day, kissing all the parts of you that you’ve begun to hate—today, you’ll show him how you love him.

“There’s a candlelit dinner downstairs for us,” you say, moving toward him. “Are you hungry yet?”

He swallows when you’re close and the quick shift in your demeanor; arms sliding to rest on his shoulders, your fingers lock behind his neck. “For you, yeah. For dinner, I could wait.”

It doesn’t take long for him to read that look in your eyes because he’s scrambling to take off his shirt. Although it’s snug in all the right places, you admit that him without it is a better sight.

“Take this off,” you command boldly in attempts to push away the heat that creeps up to your cheeks. Hand tugging on the belt loops of his pants, Mingyu quirks a brow at you. “So I can give you your gift.”

Unbuckling his belt, it clangs with each movement. “You sure, baby? We could just get right to it, I don’t need anything special today. Wanna make sure you feel good.”

Hand on his shoulder to regain your balance, you slip out of your panties. “Can you shut up?”

He chuckles. “What’s wrong with a husband wanting to make the love of his life feel good?”

“You’re too sappy,” you shoot back, stuffing your balled thong into his mouth playfully that earns a hearty laugh from his chest. He tosses it to the side, hands at your waist with a cheeky grin. “I’m gonna suck you off.”

His cheeks tint pink. “I—You don’t need to, baby. Your knees are gonna ache.”

For a pregnant woman, you sure are fast.

You’re on your knees before he could stop you, tugging on the hem of his briefs that slide off with ease and his raging boner peeks out. Head red and angry, the tip is leaking with pre-cum, and the thought of him being this turned on just from the sight of you sort of… warms you a bit. He means what he says, and when you look up at him to catch a view, he rests the back of his head against the doorframe with his breath held and his eyes clenched shut.

You pull his cock out, your palms curving to the shape with an innocent look in your irises. “What’s wrong?”

“If I look at you, I might cum too fast.”

Rolling your eyes, you ignore his statement before leaning in with your lips wrapped around the tip of his cock. He stiffens, your palms at the base as you ease the rest of his length into your mouth.

“Fuck,” he says breathily, fingers lacing through his locks. He can’t help himself; you’re so pretty even when the lights in the closet are dim and in need of replacing. He doesn’t curse often, but when he does, it means he’s overflowing with emotion and quite frankly, having the entirety of his dick in his wife’s mouth will do that to him.

Mingyu can’t get over how lucky he is. He’s got you, pregnant with his baby, glowing even on the days you feel the worst, and when you’ve got such a busy work schedule, you always make time for him.

His hips buck into your mouth when you hollow your cheeks, a groan caught in his throat. Lips parted, he gets lost in the warmth, abs flexing when your tongue flicks over the slit. Where did you learn how to suck dick like that? And did you suck anyone else off like this?

Fuck, he curses mentally, getting a little pissed at himself for even thinking of that when the most gorgeous girl in his life is giving him a blowjob.

He can’t help himself though. But he reminds himself who got you pregnant, and the night he swears was the cause of it because your pussy was leaking with your juices mixed with his cum. The sheets were drenched; he recalled the way you got all flustered, covering your face with your hands, but the sight of you was so attractive that he found himself craving for that again.

That’s when you look at him through those alluring curled lashes, how they brush against the highs of your cheeks, hair messy and eyes glassy.

“Get up.”

Pulling away, a pout dresses upon your lips and a breath hitches in his throat. How are you so cute when there’s a string of saliva connecting your mouth and his cock? “What’s wrong? You didn’t cum yet.”

“I know,” he says breathily. “As much as I wanna see my cum in your mouth, it’s my birthday and I have other plans.”

It doesn’t take long, but somehow your night that was supposed to be dedicated to the birthday boy somehow changed the objective to being about you. In all fairness, you should’ve suspected it anyway because this is Kim Mingyu you’re talking about here—he’s your husband, but he’s beyond that. He talks about you like he’s putting you on a pedestal; to him, you’re the sunshine to his gloomy days. You’re the reason for the smile on his face, and the ‘why’ to the laughs that escape from him so easily.

But he doesn’t understand that he is that for everyone else.

He never fails to put other people before himself, and you don’t know what you’ve done in your past life to be loved in the way he loves. Peppering kisses from your jaw down to your neck, he’s got your wrists restrained against the bed, his hands as nature’s handcuffs because his strength is equivalent to a pair. Although doused in his cologne, on a normal day with your queasy hormones, you’d complain about the forty squirts he sprays on himself, but when he’s got his dick out and between your legs, you’re intoxicated by the scent.

“Mingyu,” you gasp when he sucks on that sweet spot behind your ear. Your chest heaves up and down, tugging to leave his grasp. “Let go.”

He does as he’s asked, sitting back in fear that he was too aggressive. Fronts of his brows dipped in confusion, he watches as you struggle up, reaching over to help you—only for you to shove him back down onto the mattress with a plop. A smile tugs on the corners of his lips. “Oh?”

“I’ll top.”

Mingyu chuckles, his pearly white teeth peeking through, head thrown back in delight. “Baby, no offense but you’re pregnant. Your thighs will get tired.”

“I’ll grind on you,” you state firmly, and although he knows you’re more of a pillow princess than anything, he does as he’s told by his wife. Sitting up against the headboard, he pulls his briefs off completely and tosses them elsewhere in your bedroom.

Mingyu pats his thighs in amusement. “Alright then, baby. Sit on me and show me what you got.”

You don’t feel sexy.

Even when Mingyu is looking up at you, eyes twinkling in nothing but infatuation, he sees nobody else but you yet you still don’t feel like the old version of yourself. You don’t fit in those skimpy outfits anymore—yes, the ones that would be too short that you found yourself adjusting the hem every five seconds, but you still felt like a hot bitch in it.

Now? You’ve shoving off that stupid bra from earlier because you can’t get it to fucking stay on.

And it’s like Mingyu reads your mind because he licks his lips, hands guiding you to hover his hardened cock and says, “God, you’re so hot.”

Okay. That makes you feel a little bit better.

The insecurity doesn’t go away with pregnancy, it adds onto it. Watching yourself get bigger is both a blessing and a curse—you desperately miss the you that didn’t have a problem zipping up jeans, your favorite jeans for that matter, but Mingyu insists that you’re still gorgeous the way you are, and you’re even more admirable for carrying the “product of love” for nine months.

Palms pressed down against his chest, you swallow. “I’m heavy,” you warn him, even though with the amount of working out he’s been doing, you know he could handle more than your current weight. With a deep breath, you line yourself up with him before sliding down onto his length and Mingyu lets out a deep groan at the sensation. He fills you up wholly and fogs up your head.

“Fuck, how are you so wet and I haven’t even touched you yet?”

You chew down on your bottom lip bashfully. Pregnancy has done more than made you a ball and surprised you with how much food you’re able to inhale—you’re horny almost all hours of the day. Just watching Mingyu change the other day made you go off the rails.

Leaning back, your hands rest on his thighs behind you. This is the most comfortable position, you think, but Mingyu seems to be too busy gawking at the sight of you like this. “Did I tell you how pretty you look?”

“Always,” you roll your eyes, slowly gyrating your hips. He can’t get his stare off your pussy engulfing him, warm and wet, squelching with each movement that would normally embarrass you. But the soft grunts that escape from him is assuring you that you’re giving the birthday boy what he wants. “Your pretty girl.”

A moan releases from him, hand trailing to squeeze your breast and the other on your waist. It’s so tempting to raise his hips and ram into your wetness, but he also enjoys the pace you’re going—sweet and slow, sinking in this moment with just the two of you. You’re his pretty girl, and your hooded gaze, parted lips, and soft gasps had him inebriated.

Admittingly, you should’ve known your fatigue would hit soon. Most of the time, Mingyu would take the reigns from the beginning and it would be fine, but when you’re on top, the weight of your stomach tends to make you more lethargic, languidly swirling your hips instead of the speed you know he preferred.

Mingyu bends forward when he notices the shift, lips latching onto your nipple as his tongue twirls around the nub. His arms wrap around your frame, pulling you closer with his grip now cupping the meat of your ass, and before you know it, your head is thrown back as his hips move in tandem. The headboard thumps against the wall behind the bed, but Mingyu pays no mind.

He feels so good like this, close and hot, his heated breath against your skin. But part of you wants more—the ravenous side of your pregnancy taking over, groping his arms, and chest before dragging him closer and with all your strength, you topple the two of you over.

Confused with your sudden actions, he gazes at you with concern. Thumb rubbing against his cheeks, you push away the damp strands of hair that stick to his forehead.

With a low, quiet voice, you whisper in his ear.

“Fuck me. Please?”

He’s fast—he’s already got you back flat against the bedsheets, mesmerized by your hair sprawled over the sheets. Mingyu snaps back into reality because he’s got the prettiest girl laid out in front of him patiently, and he doesn’t want you waiting any longer.

Legs up, he takes consideration of how far you can actually go and eases the tip of his cock into your swollen folds. With a slow push, he holds his breath the entire time until he reaches to the hilt, flexing his arms on either side of your frame and you don’t hesitate to have your fingers digging into the flesh.

Buried in you, you feel yourself turn into putty in the palms of Kim Mingyu. He moves hard and deep, learning from all those times you’ve had sex while pregnant that you’re not that delicate, his thrusts are hard enough that the bed continues to hit against the wall and the sound of your skin slapping perks your ears.

The sounds between you two are so lewd—you get so wet now ever since you’ve gotten pregnant (not that he’s complaining), his dick coated and glistening with each drag, and it only tightens his stomach at the view. It’s hard to hold back the whimpers and moans when his cock throbbing inside of you and his dark gaze.

Your tits bounce with every crash of his hips into yours, at this point you don’t put any effort into holding back the moans as you clench yourself around him. Already sensitive, Mingyu can’t help himself when he sees your perky nipples, bending forward to suck on them once more in unison with his cock slamming into your heat. He slides a hand in between you, thumb flicking against the nub when he notices the way your body stiffens. With a gasp, your hands grip onto his wavy locks as he grunts, vibrating against you as your high hits.

He plants gentle kisses against your flushed skin, finally reaching your supple lips with a peck. Forehead pressed to yours, he lifts your waist up just enough before he rams into you, thrusts sloppy with his mouth gaped open as pretty moans depart. Ropes of cum coat your walls, the flashback of that one time comes to mind and he’s quick to pull out and lifts your legs up just barely.

Hair messy, you’re still catching your breath when you notice the way he looks at you with hungry eyes down below. “What?”

He can’t help himself. Scooping the cum that spills from your folds, he shoves it back into you as you let out a whimper. “Keep it inside for me, baby?”

But before you could respond, he gazes up at you with those puppy eyes that sparkle underneath the moonlight that shines through your window.

“For my birthday?”

Rolling your eyes, you pull him close as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. “Fine, fine. Happy birthday. This is your gift.”

“Mm,” he hums, sneaking another kiss against the side of your neck. “Best birthday ever. Love you.”

You flick the side of his head. “Love you, too.”

[katsuflossy]

Well i notice that your ask box are open! so can i request? Bakugou, Todoroki and Kirishima reaction to his s/o leaning against them and falling asleep on their shoulder? maybe before they've started dating but the characters already have a crush on s/o?

The Guys’ Reaction to Their Crush Sleeping on Them

Pairing: Bakugo Katsuki x reader, Todoroki Shoto x reader, Kirishima Eijiro x reader

TW: Nothing but fluff!!

A/n: Hii bb! Sorry this took so long to do. Shoto was a hard character to write but I believe I did it (emphasis on believe). I also wanted to try doing drabbles but they’re so hard!! But please I hope you enjoy 💕!

Taglist: @sunset-novice-writer @goatsenpaiultimate

Bakugo had half the mind to swat you off his shoulder. The sun barely peaked out of the mountains as the bus full of 1A students took the bumpiest road to a secluded location for special training. And like any other exhausted high schooler, Bakugo was not a morning person. He stomped on the bus and took the farthest seat in the back, wishing not to be disturbed. His eyes did not open to acknowledge his seatmate’s presence, only caring if it was Deku, however, that was beside the point.

Ten minutes into the drive, Bakugo’s eyes snapped open at the extra weight placed on his shoulder. His head whipped to the right, ready to shove who he assumed was Shitty Hair off his frame, only for his eyes to lay on you.

His heart accelerated. Being in your presence made him go into what he assumed was fight-or-flight mode, and thought of rocking you awake. But when he heard the soft snores coming from your slightly parted lips, he couldn’t do it. His eyes darted across the dimensions of your face, absorbing all the soft lines and ridges to save in his memory slot.

He eyed around the bus to catch any peeping toms looking in his direction—he had a reputation to keep up after all. Only Midoriya stayed up in the front, mumbling to himself as he scrolled ceremoniously through his phone.

Bakugo rolled his eyes before laying back against the sturdy seat cushion, letting his eyes rest until the bus arrived at its destination. Whether it was simple science or the massive crush he had, he felt more comfortable sleeping next to you. His head finally rested on top of your own as he drifts off to sleep.

Colorful rays flew across the screen as the desi dancer ran through the marketplace, throwing down everything in behind her where men clad in black suits and glasses comically trip over the fallen crates. Shoto couldn’t even pay attention to the Bollywood film Denki put on for movie night as his eyes drifted back to you. You wrapped yourself in your fluffiest blanket earlier, only your face visible to world but Shoto did not seem to mind. For some reason, he could just stare at you for days and note how your eyes blinked every 2 seconds, how the top of your nose scrunched up as you tried to hold back a yawn— your fifth attempt already. Shoto nudged you with his elbow.

“Are you tired? I can bring you to your dorm.” It would’ve been a courteous offer if your dorm wasn’t just two flights up.

You shook your head, eyebrows furrowed, determined to finish watching the movie. Shoto nodded and returned his gaze to the screen, watching the girl hide in an alleyway as the men ran past its entrance in a thick bundle. Once the coast was clear, she looked around, walking the other direction from the group before hearing “there she is!” The chase was on again just before Shoto‘s gaze traveled to the corner of his eye. Your fluffy mass swayed side to side, almost tipping over the edge of the couch before finding support against his body. Your nose searched further into his collarbone for the warmth he radiated.

He froze in shock, literally. If he hadn’t composed himself his left side would’ve erupted in flames. Shoto stiffened even further as you snuggled further into the slope of his neck. His brain went haywire as you snuggled further into the slope of his neck. Now that his own brain shut down on him, he turned to Izuku on his left, eyes pleading for help. From Midoriya’s eyes, he saw a frightened cat and a cuddle bug, cute and comical at the same time. Midoriya gave his full attention to the pair.

“Shoto, she’s asleep. Do you want me to wake (y/n) up?” He shook his head.

“Do you want me to move her from your shoulder?” Midoriya already knew the answer to his own question, as Shoto’s crush was obvious in a Shoto-esque way. As expected, Shoto responded with an even sharper headshake.

“Then calm down and be her comfortable bed. Loosen up, I’m sure you being tense right now is not comfortable.” Shoto released the breath he didn’t realise he held, shoulders releasing the anxiety that always overcomes him once he realized his crush for you. Midoriya was like a counsellor when it came to Shoto’s emotional hiccups and bumps. Soon, he’ll be able to overcome his own weird emotions and admit his feelings for you. But for now, he’ll enjoy the warm feeling of your body on his. 

Late-night cramming for the Bakusquad was not the wave, especially if it was 7 hours before the English final began. All members in the squad, except for Bakugo who up and left the session to sleep, had their heads in their books. You took the role of tutor, helping the unfortunate since a grumpy someone flipped everyone off before going to his room.

But Kirishima didn’t care. He was being bathed in compliments, his blush ever deepening as you paid special attention to his writing. His handwriting was terrible but you worked around it, giving him thumbs up before stretching for the third time. After helping Kaminari with a specific passage, you sat beside Kirishima, opening your book to study the vocabulary. 

He could hardly pay attention to the scribbles on the pages with you right beside him. His eyes would wander to you, who kept rubbing her eyes before staring harder into the book. Your hand laid on your chin, but the weight you felt was on your eyelids. You were tired but determined to remember the terms that could make or break your grade.

One by one, the Bakusquad members exited the room, heading off to sleep, leaving only you and an equally tired Kirishima at the table. In his final paragraph, his body jumped at the weight that laid on his side, only to recognize that it was you. You were knocked. You didn’t even flinch at the pen clattering on the glass table as it fell out of your hand. 

Kirishima smiled down at you before packing up all the supplies in his bag. He secured you in his arms, carrying your sleeping body up to your dorm. The whole time, he admired your face, the puffs of air that escaped your slightly parted mouth, the wrinkle in your forehead before it smoothed out again. His heart couldn’t take how your fingers gripped onto his shirt and your face rubbed into the fabric. If he had to hold you for the rest of the night to get such affection, he would gladly do so. 

Your fingers reached out to the missing warm body as he placed you in your bed, leaving your notes and supplies on your bedside table. He was a foot out of the door, contemplating to himself before turning back into the room and writing a little message on your sticky note. As quietly as possible at 3 AM, he closed your dorm door before falling softly against the door. His cheeks burned remembering how close you were to him before walking to his room, a new motivation that will keep him up tonight.

He’ll wait for you tomorrow at the spot he wrote down to confess his feelings.

[havin-a-wee]

Stars Align

pairing: harry styles x y/n

warnings: fluff, ig you could consider it angst but its really just mysterious

word count: 2k

hello! i apologize for kind of disappearing, my fic rec account has kind of blown up and ive been super busy with that.

this is my entry for @sweetlygolden 's Harry On Holiday Challenge! i chose strangers in the same city, and the line prompt “That is the worst sunburn I’ve ever seen.” i honestly already have a part 2 planned out but we'll see how it goes!

“How much longer are you going to stare at that pretending like it’s interesting.”

Her soft voice surprised him, and he whipped his head around to see who had been speaking to him.

For the first time in a while, Harry was able to get away for a little. Of course, he travels a lot for work, but this was the first vacation since he can remember where he was alone, doing whatever he pleases. He chose Italy for this special occasion, because it’s always been one of his favorite places, and he missed the freedom of wandering around the boot shaped country without a care in the world.

The day's adventures had brought him to La Galleria Nazionale d’Arte Moderna e Contemporanea, which is a museum that he's been wanting to see for quite some time. He started the day off by getting a cappuccino and a crespelle from a wonderful little cafe down the street from his hotel.

Right afterwards he walked to the museum, taking in the sights around him on the 20 minute trek to his destination. Before the woman behind him snatched his attention, he was staring at a painting of an abstract house. The house was only painted in blue, and the artist had used the different shades and tones of the color to create the details in the painting.

He had been staring at it for a good amount of time, which he assumed is what prompted the stranger to talk to him.

It’s his 3rd day on the trip, leaving him 4 more until he has to be back in L.A. for work. He has no plans, no schedules, no job to do. It’s just him and the world. At least, that’s what he assumed it would be. The vacation is supposed to be a solo one, however, he’s currently staring at a stranger that decided to speak to him. And for some reason, he is drawn to her. Compelled to spend time with her after just a simple sentence was spoken between the two of them.

When he fully turns around she jumped, a bit startled by his bright red complexion. “That is the worst sunburn I have ever seen!”

It was true, Harry had managed to get himself a nasty burn on the first day in Italy. He usually tans instead of getting a sunburn, but when you’re used to the dreary weather of the UK, it can be hard to forget how strong the sun is in other places.

So he had laid out on the beach and fell asleep, waking up a few hours later with tomato red skin and a burning sensation covering the exposed skin.

“That’s what happens when y’fall asleep on a beach in Rome,” he chuckled, smiling awkwardly at the woman before him.

She’s beautiful, there is absolutely no denying that. She was wearing a simple spaghetti-strap black dress that cut off right at the knee. There were no designs, no embellishments, just a black dress that hugged her figure perfectly. Her lips have a deep red lipstick smeared across them, and he couldn’t help but notice how the color complimented her skin tone. Her simple black pumps completed the outfit, and her hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, with a few of the front strands falling out of the hair tie and framing her face.

“I’d assume so.” Her demeanor is serious, even though there's a smile on her face. She’s…..intimidating?

Harry hasn’t been intimidated by anything since he was a teenager. Once you perform in front of thousands of screaming people, who also happen to idolize you, things don’t tend to phase a person anymore.

But for some reason, her presence caused butterflies to fly around in his stomach, a feeling he hasn’t felt in a long time. He actually enjoyed the feeling, it reminded him of when everything was normal.

What also reminded him of normality was the fact that she seems to not have the slightest clue of who he is. If she does, she’s sure as hell good at hiding it.

“You’ve been looking at the same painting for 10 minutes, just wanted to make sure you hadn’t fallen asleep.” A small laugh escaped her lips, and the noise agitated the fluttering butterflies residing in his tummy. Her voice is mesmerizing, and she sounds like what Harry imagines an angel to sound like. She has an American accent, and it eased his nerves slightly that she was also a tourist.

He turned back to the painting to look at it, but it was also convenient in that she wouldn’t be able to see his undoubtedly flushed cheeks.

“Yeah m’not sure what it is ‘bout it but there’s somethin’ special with this one.”

“That’s Prismi lunari by Fortunato Depero, he was very talented.” Harry spun around once again to face her, shocked at her knowledge of the random artwork.

“You know that off of the top of your head?” He tilts his head and looks at her, furrowing his brows in confusion. He’s pretty sure there was no label for the painting, and if there was it was way too small for her to see from where she’s standing.

“I know a lot of things.”

The statement was simple, but Harry wondered if her words paired with the smirk on her face are code for something else. “How long have you been here?” Her question snapped him out of his thoughts, and he looked up at her and smiled. He flicks his wrist and directs his attention to it, reading the Gucci watch adorning his wrist.

“Well I got here at 11, so about 5 hours.” It honestly surprised him when he realized it was 4 o’clock, but he knows how wrapped up he gets in artwork so he must have lost track of time.

“Jesus christ! I can barely stand to walk around a museum for an hour!” She blows out a puff of air, mocking being out of breath. They both laugh at her comment, Harry laughing a bit harder than her. “What’s your name?”

“Oh! M’Harry, s’nice to meet you.” He stuck out his ring-clad hand, and her delicate fingers wrapped around his as she shook it.

“Well Harry, wanna get out of here and walk around with someone who knows the city?” She points at herself, and the small smile she gave him earlier transformed into a silly grin.

“Well m’not sure how well an American can know the city, but I’ll bite.” Usually he would never do this. Going off with strangers is never a good idea, especially because of his status. But there’s something about the girl that makes Harry feel safe. They had just met yet he feels like he could trust her with things he hasn’t even told his best friends.

“An American who’s been living here for a year, that is.” His eyebrows raise slightly, intrigued by her new admission. But before he can even open his mouth to speak, she grabs his wrist with her daintily manicured hand and whisks him out of the quiet museum.

The air was humid, quickly drawing beads of sweat from his forehead. He’s also quite baffled at how she was completely unphased. Not a single drop of sweat was dripping on her body, her soft skin untouched like an old porcelain doll, preserved for years in perfect condition.

“I’ll show you around a little, we can go to this wonderful little vintage store I know.” She had turned to face him, her hand moving from his wrist to cup his one hand in both of hers. “Um- at least, if you want to.” For the first time, she was nervous. Although she will never admit it, Harry makes her extremely nervous. Extremely.

When he turned around when they first met, her jump of surprise wasn’t just because of his bright sunburn. In fact, it wasn’t about that at all. It was about how fucking attractive he is. He really looks like one of the statues that was put up in the museum. His sparkling green eyes send a shiver down her spine, and the tattoos peaking through his thin white t-shirt cause a fire to build in her stomach.

Having someone to talk too while he traversed the streets of Rome is a lot more enjoyable than Harry had anticipated. He purposefully told all of his friends that he was going to be MIA while on this trip. But the fact that she is a stranger changes it in some way, in a good way.

The cobblestone streets are surprisingly smooth, and they walk next to each other in a comfortable silence for a long amount of time. The silence would only break when she would point out something in their field of vision. At one point, Harry pauses, standing still in the middle of the street with a thinking look on his face. He realizes that he doesn’t know her name, which seems ridiculous to him because they were walking around a foreign country like the best of friends. She turns to him, matching his confused look when they lock eyes. “I just realized I don’t know y’name.”

Instead of reacting like he would expect one to react when asked that question, her pupils dilated and for some reason she appears to be scared. Why would someone be scared when you ask for their name?

‘Maybe she thinks her name is embarrassing’ Harry thought, still looking at her with a confused look, but now it was laced with a bit of suspicion.

He watches her sigh, and her hand went up to her ponytail and pulled the black elastic out, her soft hair cascading down her shoulders. With another sigh she said, “Y/N. My names Y/N.”

“That’s a really beautiful name.”

“Oh! There’s the store!”

He found it odd that she was so eager to switch the subject, but goes along with it nonetheless.

The vintage store is lovely, and Harry was able to find a beautiful ring and necklace set, matching gold roses on both of them. They looked around the shop for about 15 minutes, Harry being the only one to make a purchase.

The sun had set by the time they went outside, which isn’t surprising considering that it was almost dark when they walked into the little shop. They stood, facing each other outside of this small little shop in Rome. Two strangers, who just happened to cross each other's path. Harry knows this won’t last forever, and he also knows that he wants to see her again. In a leap of faith, he pulls the gold necklace out of the small brown bag and looks up at her.

“Here, I got them so we could match.” It was bold, but Harry feels connected to this girl, and he doesn’t know it, but she feels the exact same. The smile she gave him when he handed her the necklace was bright and genuine, the creases next to her eyes proving its authenticity. He motioned for her to turn around, wrapping the necklace around her neck and clasping it while she held up her hair.

“Thank you Harry. This is the best day I’ve had in a while.”

“Likewise.”

“I hate to do this, but I have to go. Have a wonderful rest of your trip Harry.”

It was then that she placed a small, tender peck on his lips, barely lingering for a second before pulling away.

“Wait! Can I get y’number?” Her smile slanted into a smirk, and she pulled a small card and a pen out of her small black clutch. She placed the card up against the brick wall, leaning it against it and scribbling something down on the paper. When she finished writing, she pressed her lips against the card, handing it to Harry.

He looked down at it, expecting to see a series of numbers, but he was met with a simple note, scribbled on the piece of cardstock next to the red lip print she had left.

May the stars align in our favor once again. - Y/N

He looked up frantically, planning to ask her to write her number down as well, but he was met with nothing.

She had disappeared into the night, leaving as quickly as she appeared earlier that day.

[procrastination-queenie]

Little Things || JHS

Pairing: Hoseok x Literature student! au reader.

Word count: 1,032.

Synopsis: you had two long weeks full of tiring exams and equally exhausting nights to get through these exams, but worry not for your beam of sunshine is there to help you get some needed rest.

Genre: pure FLUFF 🥺

Warning: None.

A/n: I urgently need a Hobi in my life.🥺🌻

You have had two long weeks of exams that left you physically and mentally drained due to the lack of sleep and the effort exerted in answering the alien-like questions that your professors loved to surprise you with during the exams. Today was the last day of your exams, and you were beyond relieved. You will finally be able to relax, have some needed sleep, catch up on some reading, and most importantly spend some time with your beloved Hoseok. With your messed up schedule, Hoseok didn't dare make it any harder, hence holding himself back from distracting you to deal with your exams season. It's not like he left you on your own; in fact, he always took care of you, making sure you drink hot beverages to keep you warm from the cold weather, making sure to get your special fuzzy socks cleaned every few days since he knows that you lose focus when your feet get cold. However, it seemed that he would disappear whenever you started studying, and by the time you finished, you would be very tired that you'd go to sleep right away, leaving you with no time to spend with your precious boyfriend. This is something which you're definitely planning to change now that the exams are over.

Opening the door to your shared apartment, you took off your shoes by the door making your feet instantly relax as you put on your comfy pair of slippers. It was still early in the morning, the house was quiet except for the sounds of the chirping birds mixed with the faint humming and beeping of the cars. Hoseok was sitting in a big armchair with the laptop perched on his lap. You assumed that he was getting some work done with the way his face scrunched in concentration and the aroma of warm herbs, floating through the air, placed in a steaming cup by him. His eyes left the blue screen as he felt your presence by the entrance of the living room. "Hey sunshine, how was the exams?" He asked as you made your way over to him.

If you loved one thing about Hobi, it would be how soft he looked and felt during the early hours of the day, with the sun happily beaming its sun rays upon his calming features like a mother beaming down at her child. He had this aura about him that brought you peacefulness and tranquillity that you could not describe. Hobi moved the laptop from his lap to the small table beside him when he sensed your intention of perching yourself on his lap. "It was fine. I'm glad it's all over, now," You puffed hiding your face into his neck, smelling his perfume that you loved so much. Hoseok chuckled as he felt you rubbing your face into his neck, fishing for his smell that brought you comfort and made you feel cosy. "It's been two tiring weeks," He stated remembering that time when you had to pull an all-nighter for your Shakespearean drama exam, you went to the exam sure that you were going to flunk the subject; however, it surprisingly turned out well, and you were able to tackle all the points you felt were important in the exam. You hummed with a hint of a whine, agreeing with him. "I missed you," mumbling, you placed a few soft kisses onto his neck as you pulled yourself tighter into his arms, clutching onto his shirt. Hoseok smiled softly, your cute and needy actions making his insides erupt in butterflies. He was giddy from the inside, but he knew better than getting all excited and moving around, fearing that he might disturb your little moment of peacefulness. Circling his arms around you, he hummed placing a kiss on the crown of your head. "I missed you too baby," he whispered hugging you tighter if that was even possible. Hoseok sat with you there for a few minutes, when he felt the rhythm of your breathing calm down to soft puffs that tickled his neck lightly like the soft brush of a feather. Looking down at you, you were indeed asleep cradled into his arms. Hoseok smiled softly, placing a peck on your nose which scrunched in response to his lovely gesture. Getting up slowly, he walked with you in his arms still as he went to your room, placing you gently on the bed. You didn't need to change your clothes; you were wearing sweatpants accompanied by a comfy oversized jumper, something which was comfy enough to sleep in, Hoseok thought. He draped the covers over you slowly as you started to move around trying to find the desired position to sleep in. Hoseok went over to the huge window to pull the curtains shut, leaving some space to allow the sun rays in, casting a beautiful soft glow in your room; he knew how you hated sleeping in the dark. "Hobi," his heart tugged in his chest as he saw your head peak from underneath the sheets, sleepy eyes searching for him. "I'm right here, sweetheart," he said, getting into bed next to you and pulling you into his arms, again. He ran his fingers through your hair before settling on massaging your scalp which helped bring back your light breathing as you drifted back into a much needed sleep.

To Hoseok these were the best of moments shared between the two of you. He loved how you both expressed your love for each other without saying it. He felt your love with every action you made to reach out for him: the way you placed your face into the crook of his neck, the way you hugged him, the way you fisted his shirt, quietly saying I need you without saying it, the way your droopy eyes searched for him for comfort, refusing to go to sleep without his presence engulfing you, and all these little things as mundane as they seem; however, it meant the world to him for you both to enjoy the euphoric feeling of indulging yourselves into one another, understanding each other without the need to utter a word.

[shereadsandwritesformelanin]

The Baker And Her Actor: part I [The Delivery!]

Paring: Chris Evans x Black Fem!Reader

Summary: You meet Chris while making a house delivery for the Evans. He can’t get you off his mind, and to be honest you can’t get him of yours.

Warnings: profanity, sexual content, angst, but overall fluff!

Notes: I hope you guys enjoy, don’t be afraid to leave your thoughts opinions and critique’s. All are welcome!

Early morning shifts were apart of your normal routine, but never this early.

You had made arrangements with a costumer. You’d drop off five dozen boxes of your holiday edition sticky pecan maple donuts.

You walk into the bakery the cool Boston breeze follows you indoors.

Walking back you gently place a hair net on, wrapping your body in your favorite apron that said “ All you kneed is love.” It was your absolute favorite.

You hit the lights to kitchen and begin assembling all the ingredients nessecary for this massive delivery.

“Hey sorry I’m late.” Kiara, your employees and best friend said barging in.

She approached you tieing on her apron as well, preparing to help you whip up this hefty batch.

“Okay so like I said these are semi important guest, considering I have to make a home delivery and they gave me a key code. I’m assuming their loaded, so we need to make this our best. Presentation and taste.” You explain to kiara

She nods in agreement sucking in air, you’d didn’t know who was dreading this most you or her.

——-

Packaging the last few donuts Kiara spoke breaking the silence.

“So who is this special delivery for, I mean I get being rich but come on making us deliver first thing on thanksgiving is kind of fucked up.” She complained

You couldn’t agree more, thanksgiving was your favorite holiday and here you were stuck making over sixty donuts at the crack of dawn. You wish you could have refused but you needed the money.

“I know, trust me I understand, and I appreciate you and your vigor. Helping me, waking up this early isn’t easy for you I know that. And the name was- Evans I believe. Sounded like a man on the phone.” You announce

“Evans, in Boston. BITCH!’Kiara shouts. “I’m coming with you, because if this is who I think this is I swear I’m never living this day down!” She continues to Elate.

“Who’s Evans?”

——-

For the entirety of the car ride Kiara couldn’t stop ranting and raving about the infamous Chris Evans.

The way she talked about him would have made you believe she knew him personally.

According to Kiara, he is an actor in the marvel movies, which you’ve never seen. He lives in Boston with his family, and has an adorable dog named Dodger.

“I can’t believe you’ve never heard of this hottie.” Kiara said

“Well I know of him I’m just not obsessed like some.” You sass.

Kiara rolls her eyes in your direction. “No matter who he is we have to stay professional. Pretend you have no idea who he is and it’s just another delivery.” You instruct.

“I would, but it’s not just another delivery.”

“Why is that?” You remark

“Bitch because we don’t deliver.” Kiara curses.

She did have a solid point, we aren’t a delivery service. only having 5 employees so you run a pretty tight ship.

But you make it work, you’re only delivering because they asked and offered to throw in a pretty hefty delivery fee.

Looks like we are here.

You pull up to a gated community, from what you could see the houses were huge.

It was a mixture of recently builds and older builds. Overall it was beautiful, The rich really do have it all.

“What’s the code again?” Kiara asks hand hanging out the window ready to punch in the code.

Snapping from your gaze. “Um 369696.” You announce

“Got it.” We watch as the retracts allowing my 2008 Mariner to slip through and up the hills to the “Evans” home.

—-

“Okay remember what I said. No celebrity talk, just hand them the bag say some quick “thank you’s, your welcome’s and we’re out.” You demand

Kiara smirks. “Then we can sneak back later since we have the code, and watch him sleep.”

“Okay see nope, you���re staying in the car!” You shout.

“Why?” Kiara whines.

“Because your a freaking liability I don’t need them thinking we are weird fan girls that happen to bake.” You whisper shout.

“We are weird fan girls that bake.” Kiara chuckes

“We,” is a long shot.” You say getting the donuts out from the backseat.

Placing them in your hands you could feel the heat of them, still warm. And obviously they smelled amazing.

You and Kiara walked up to the Evans home. It was large, modern with a twist. The bricks were a beautiful mixture of cool earth tones and the pathway up to the front door was beautiful.

You could tell the home was designed by a women. The touch was so feminine but with many masculine hints.

“Ring it.” You told Kiara

“Wow even the doorbell sound is expensive.” She joked

Immediately the door swings open and you and Kiara are met with the most beautiful blue eyes.

He wore a red flannel, regular denim blue jeans that fit him well, a navy snap back and held a beer in one of his large hands.

Kiara wasn’t lying he was beautiful.

Clearing your throat before you speak. “Oh Um we are here for Evans.” You sqeak lacking your usual confidence.

Guys always had that affect on you, especially attractive ones.

“I would be Evans.” Chris chuckles sitting his beer on a side table, reaching out to take the boxes from you.

His hand brushes against yours just for a brief moment.

You felt your heart beat accelerate and those damn butterflies explode in your pit.

God, no.

Maybe it was just because he was the last man to touch you in years?

I hope so.

“Wow this smell absolutely fantastic, I know the family will love them. Thanks so much for coming I know you guys don’t do that I just- never mind let me grab my wallet.” He explained

“You know what it’s fine we should get going, enjoy your day!” You almost shout gripping Kiaras arm yankimg her down the pathway practically tearing her arm off.

Chris is left baffled at his doorstep, he really thought you two deserved a tip. That’s also what was discussed over the phone.

“Bitch what the hell was that!” Kiara shouts.

“I don’t know I really don’t. I just freaked and wanted to get out of there, something wasn’t right.” I had a bad feeling.” You lied.

“Or a good feeling.” Kiara mumbles.

“What?”

“Oh come on y/n it’s no secret you love to self sabotage all the time. I saw they way you were looking at him and frankly he was checking yo big booty ass out too.” She informs.

No way.

It was true though. Chris opened the door and was immediately blown away by your beauty.

he loved how your hair fit your face just right, the way your outfit cordinated with the holiday and season, your big brown eyes, and beautiful dark skin.

He was immediately blown away, and shocked that you ran off like Cinderella.

—-

Driving back home gave you time to think. You hadn’t felt those butterflies in your stomach in years. The feeling was so foreign but so familiar.

You had to move on though, it was a one time thing. You’d never see him again.

——

Back at Chris’s house:

A/n: the girls thought it was a family home it’s really just Chris’s home!

Chris’s Point Of View:

Chris shuts the door completely taken a back by your sudden take off.

“Oooh the desserts are here mom!’Scott shouts “well that’s not a pretty face.” Scott teases .

“Yeah I know the baker she ran off before I could give her a tip, I sort of feel bad. They deserve it.” Chris moaned

He hated not being able to give back. He was blessed with all this luxury he wanted to be able to give back in any way he could.

“Well maybe drop it off tomorrow, let’s celebrate and not sulk.” Scott suggested pushing his older brother in the direction of the kitchen.

“Yeah.” Chris said starting to chipper up again.

—-

The Next Day:

Another early shift.

You never understood why after holidays people were still craving sweets, hadn’t they had enough at their parties and gatherings?

“Jesus this line wont go down.” Kiara complains

“Hey look at it as exposure and a better paycheck.” You said

“I’ll go check on the guys.” Kiara announces

Your main bakers Jay and Deacon were amazing. They were prompt, selfless, and came up with the most delicious unique recipes.

“Hi welcome to y/n’s what can I get you today.” You ask not completely aware of the person in front of you.

“A regular glaze donut should do.”

Your ears burn at how familiar the voice sounded.

Your attention slowly turned from the coffe machine you were working with to the figure standing in front of you.

Chris Evans.

Their he stood. Frame decorated with a warm winter puff coat, a navy knit sweater, denim blue jeans, and his imfamous Boston hat.

“Oh ok, of course.’ Let me grab a fresh on for you.” You stammer.

You were nervous, he made you nervous.

“No the one on display is fine I don’t need special treatment.” Chris had reassured

You nod in a agreement. Grabbing the donut wrapping it in your seasonal decorate parchment paper. You slip it in a brown baggie and hand it over to him.

“That’ll be 0.99 cents.”

Chris’s face hardened, his eyebrows furrowing in.

Digging into his pocket. “You know, you should really charge more. Your name goods are amazing.” Chris compliments.

You feel your face heat up and those damn butterflies erupting again.

It was no secret you tend to fall fast but self sabotage because you’re awkward and can’t fathom the thought of being loved.

“Have a good day, Chris.” You say whispering his name not wanting to pull attention to him.

“You as well y/n.” He whispered mimicking you.

He remembered your name?

You turn around to finish adjusting the coffe machine, but slightly peaking to watch him walk out.

God he was so darn beautiful.

—

“Days over let’s count profit, Kiara can you grab Jay I think he’s still back there cleaning.” You ask politely

Kiara nods in agreement making her way through the flapping doors.

You begin opening the registers, fact checking and counting the profit you and yo it team made for the day. You loved having the bakery but gosh this was time consuming.

You reach for the tip jar, tilting it downward for easy acsses to slip your hands through. You pull out varrace one dollar bills, coins, some five dollar bills, until, you pulled out a wad of three hundred dollar bills.

“What the fuck.’You whisper to yourself. “Guys, guys come out her right now!” You shout excitedly.

“What who’s here?” Jay runs out of the kitchen with a rolling pen ready to attack any threats.

“No ones here, and put that down.”

“Someone left a three hundred dollar tip.” You announced

Your small bakery filled with loud hoots and hollers from your team. Everyone excited by the unexpected win.

“Well girl don’t act like you don’t know who left it.” Kiara said smirking

“What do you mean?” You respond

“Obviously it was Cevans.” She stared eyebrows wiggling.

“Who’s Cevans?” Deacon blurts.

“You remember that home delivery the other day, yeah that was to Chris Mother fucking Evans house.” Kiara explains.

“What?!” Deacon and Jay shout simotaniously.

“When were you gonna tell us this?” Deacon says.

“Never.’ You whisper. “Only because it’s not that big of a deal, I mean look at you guys your obsess all ready. He’s just a guy.” You rationalize

“Yeah just a guy that drops three hundred dollars on a pretty brown skin doll.” Kiara teases.

“Shut up.” You say cheeks heating up.

“Well don’t get to deep because you still owe me a date.” Deacon says walking away.

You and Deacon had a moment not to long ago, I mean you loved him as a friend and could never go past the point of no return with him.

But Deacons feelings for you were explosive and seemingly never ending.

God what was it with you and white men.

——

Chris’s Point Of View:

At home I had spent the remainder of the day with my family.

The thoughts of y/n still lingered. I was no doubt proud that i could give you the tip you deserved.

He could tell you worked hard, and deserved every team.

Were you single?

“What are you day dreaming about?” Scott says interrupting my thoughts.

“Nothing.” I say dry

“Really because we just had y/n’s yesterday and your already back. I thought we’d be donuted out for a while.” Scott implied

Scott was constantly trying to find me someone. He said I would “die alone,” if I don’t find a wife. But the truth is I’m protective of me, my space.

It’s not easy being a noticeable celebrity, people seem to always have alternative motives.

Like what they can gain from me, use me.

“I just liked her donuts, that’s all not that deep Scott.” I lied.

“Mhmm, we should wear face mask tonight and try and find her instagram, see what’s she up to.” Scott suggests non chalantly.

I mean If I did it would only be to spend quality time with scott right?

“I mean I guess, but not that one face mask made my face burn.” I said fingers circuling my face.

—-

Y/n’s Point Of View:

Finally locking up the shop I walk away to my car keys in my hand bag in another.

I couldn’t feel somewhat guilty for the amount of money we’d recieved from Chris. He was too generous.

It almost felt like I was using him even though he willing gave us the money. I still felt bad.

At home you ate your dinner in peace, lofi music playing in the background.

When suddenly your phone went off with a ping, two pings.

Picking up your phone to see what it was.

An instagram notification. “What the fuck.” You curse

Why was Scott Evans liking your pictures.

Now this was no coincidence.

You dial your Bestfriends number to tell her the news.

“Kiara.”

—-

Chris’s Point Of View:

“Scott what the fuck!” I shout. “Now she’s gonna know I was lurking.”

“But you weren’t I am.” Scott says

“Yes but don’t you think she’ll know we are together. This is why I didn’t want to do this.” I continue to shout.

“Just don’t like anymore pictures please.” I plead.

“Fine I won’t, but isn’t she hot.” Scott teases.

“She’s beautiful yes but not my type.” I lie

“You don’t have a type.” Scott rebutted

This wasn’t 100% accurate or inaccurate looks weren’t a formality for me not that you weren’t stunning, but the personality was were it was for me.

From the small moments I observed of you, your quiet and shy but outgoing on fun once you get to know the person and people you are around.

Maybe Scott was right, just maybe.

—-

First part! Lemme know what you think!

Are you liking y/n? She’s shy but she’ll open up soon😏.

Should they get together fast or slow I’m thinking mega slow!

—

Tag list:

@toniilaney

[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 ❋

[darkestdesired]

Bumbling Badger~✨

@diana-24-world

An:hhhh i needed some cute fluff and I'm quite happy with how this came out! I really hope you like it and sorry for taking so long!😭

Weasley twins x hufflepuff!reader

(Platonic)Hermione x Huffle!Puff reader.

It was just another average day in the hufflepuff house,i was currently deep in thought as i wrote in my diary.Hermione,my best friend,sat leaning against my shoulder with a book of her own.

Glancing at my diary her eyes grew wide as she saw me write 'I Love Weasley.' In a heart. "Sooo..Which weasley are you crushing on? I know it's not ron cuz he's like a little brother to you,same with Ginny,and you've told me charlie percy and bill are too serious for you.So which twin is it?" I felt my heart leap into my throat."I-I..um..Who said anything about the twins,why cant i be writing this in a platonic sense?"

She smirked."Because we're best friends and I've known you long enough to know when your flustered.Is it Fred?" I shut my book and covered my face with my hands while she turned her body to face me."I don't want to seem weird.." Her teasing ceased,"(Y/n) weird can be a good thing.I mean look at Luna,She's weird but we all love her for it." I gulped.

"Fine but you have to promise not to tell anyone,the last thing i need is for rumors to spread around."

She held out her pinky to which i smiled and linked mine with. "Ok...i have a crush on them both..i just couldn't decide which one i liked more because although their twins they are both unique and special in their own way.They just get me so shy and flustered just from the sight of them."

As i ranted i noticed Hermiones proud smile."You should ask them out,i promise they will accept.They both are madly in love with you,why else do you think they never prank you as bad as everyone else. I mean they dyed your hair (F/c) while you slept because you said you've always wanted to but were too scared to do it yourself.Normally they dye people's hair the most ugliest colors."

She had a point,the twins pranks probably couldn't even be called pranks because they always worked in my favor.I mean for example it's like someone giving you a puppy to keep and saying 'get pranked',i mean it's a free puppy! But george and Fred always showed how much they actually listened when i talked,it was honestly the sweetest thing.

Taking a deep breath i nodded,"Y-You're right..i should just ask them out already,and if they turn me down then I'll just suck it up and continue on with the contentment of friendship." Hermione pulled me up,"That's the spirit! Now come on it's time for dinner."

Hermione sat me down across from her at the Gryffindor table next to ron,which was quite common.

I picked at my food as i thought of what i could possibly say when i saw the twins that wouldn't make me sound like a bumbling idiot,"You seem deep in thought badger,Dreaming of us?" I heard a familiar voice tear me away from my thoughts,i looked up just as Fred and George sat beside me,trapping me between them. "O-Oh..um..i was just thinking about a potion i have to make in class tomorrow."

Great going (Y/n),way to sound interesting.

Hermione smirked as she tapped her nose,i rolled my eyes at her before taking a deep breath."Um...actually i was wondering..and you guys don't have to if you don't want to..but would you both want to..go out tomorrow?"

George raised a brow and glanced at Hermione."Of course badger,But go out where?"

Hermione did everything in her power to refrain from facepalming,'they all deserve eachother.' She thought while Shaking her head.

Fred stared at my nervous fidgeting for a moment before smirking,"Oh brother of mine i think our little (Y/n) is asking us to 'go out''." He air quoted with a devilish look in his eye as i covered my face to hide my blushing (S/c) cheeks.

It clicked in George's mind finally what i had meant and both twins squished me between them in a tight hug,"I think that's a lovely idea, (Y/n)." He winked.

Oh god just what am i getting myself into?

So that brings us to the present where i was now being poked and stuffed into a yellow (Type of outfit) for my 'date',if that's what you would call it.

Hermione stepped back and smiled as she looked over my full look,"You look amazing!Their gonna love it." I fought the blush that heated up my cheeks. "Are you sure it isn't too much,i mean we're only going to the lake for a picinic."

She rolled her eyes playfully,"I'm telling you they'll love it,speaking of the pranksters." She said with a smile when she heard a knock.

Sending me a thumbs up she pushed me towards the door,after a deep breath i opened it revealing my two handsome ginger twins.

They stared down at me in awe before uttering "Wicked." In unison,It caused a light chuckle to bubble out.

"You look so cute!" Fred exclaimed.

"Like really cute!" George agreed.

Waving goodbye to Hermione they took my hands and began leading me down to our date.

To say it was fun would be an understatement,we spent most of it laying back on the checkered blanket with Fred's laying his head on my stomach while george laid against my side resting his head on my shoulder.

We watched as the lightening bugs danced over the lake,the only sounds around us where the calming sounds of nature,not the busy hustle of other students.

"It feels nice,just the three of us.We need to do this again." I sighed,filled with contentment.I played with freds long ginger locks causing him to hum in delight.

George peaked his head up,so close that i could feel his breath fan on my cheek. "We could.Do this again i mean.I think i can agree for the two of us when i say we love being around you." Fred hummed his agreement,"Though I'm sure you know that's not the only thing we love (Y/n)."

Both twins chuckled as i covered my face,sure that it was on fire from embarrassment. When they finally managed to pry my arms away they stared at me for a moment before smirking wickedly,before i could even react they both leaned in and kissed my cheeks.

"I..I love you guys too." I said sheepishly.

Goodness Hermione was going to have a feild day when i told her about this.

They both returned to their positions now knowing that all of our feelings were mutual.

Let's just say Snape nearly docked us housepoints for coming back to the school after curfew.

[crystxlclear]

you’re just like an angel (your skin makes me cry)

a sudden desire oneshot 

masterlist // sudden desire chapter one

pairing: marcus pike x original female character (coraline meyer)

words: 4.4k

synopsis: coraline and marcus go to a halloween party. pining ensues. 

set in the future, in comparison to the current sudden desire timeline, after coraline accepts that suggestion 

warnings: FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF SWEET SWEET FLUFF, mutual pining (more so from marcus, unintentionally, though?), alcohol consumption/slight alcohol intoxication, established relationship

author’s note: you don’t need to have read sudden desire to understand this! (but please do)

this was meant to come out on halloween but i am a terrible procrastinator. but i mean this was too cute not to post? so i hope you all accept my extremely belated spooky-season offering. expect more of this sweet beautiful soft fluff when we get more into sudden desire, when we get to the baby-making stage (i gotta make up for the lack of smut somehow). This is really nothing of significance or particularly interesting, except i just wanted to write something halloween-ish

also it’s kind of obvious and i have mentioned it here and in previous sudden desire chapters but daniel is coraline’s brother and kimmy is his wife/cora’s sister-in-law, they’re in the next chapter! 

not beta’d because i have no friends to read it lmao

Coraline doesn’t usually go out on Halloween. Those evenings are usually spent curled up on the sofa, cocooned beneath her comforter, watching the entire Scream series back-to-back. It had become somewhat of a ritual, those films. Sat in the comfortable dark while she practically quoted the film back at the TV screen. An annual event since she was ten, when she’d managed to convince her dad to let her watch the first three films while her mom was out with friends. Her DVD copies were almost two decades old, now.

It must have taken something, or someone, special to break a habit so ingrained, a years-old routine. 

That was the moment Daniel Meyer knew, beyond all doubt, that Coraline Meyer looked at Marcus Pike as more than just a friend. 

Sure, she denies it. Sure she’s too damn stubborn to admit it, even to him. But for someone to pull Cora from her Scream-filled Halloween night bubble, it must take a lot. He isn’t blind, either. He’s seen the looks they give each other - those fleeting looks, a flush of red creeping to their cheeks whenever they glance between each other for a moment, that soft lingering smile on her face when she arrives at his house after a day spent with him - and he’s spent hours in his living room listening to her recall stories and gush about him like he hung all the stars in the night sky. 

Daniel Meyer knows his sister well enough to know that she only has eyes for him.

He’d been surprised when she’d rung him that Thursday morning, bright and early as the sun continued to rise high in the sky, proclaiming that she was, in fact, coming to their Halloween party. That surprise had disappeared, however, the second she’d mentioned Marcus was coming, too. He’d laughed and she’d asked why but he wouldn’t tell her, amusement peaking the moment he heard his name. It’s brilliant and he should have known, really. Of course, he should have known.

...

Coraline tugs awkwardly on the costume. It’s cheap and uncomfortable and she’d bought it last minute from some poorly-lit store in the city. It’s that cheap, plastic-like material that clings to your figure in the most unforgiving places, places it shouldn’t yet somehow moulds to. She’s just glad she didn’t pick one of the skimpier ones she’d tried, the ones that rested far too high on her thighs and squeezed her torso so tightly it felt like she was wearing a corset. She felt like she was about to burst straight through the thin material. Instead, she’d gone for the far more family-friendly option. 

Skimpy outfits aren’t a good idea for a family Halloween party.

Though, even in the most modest costume she can find, she’s still pretty sure that she looks utterly ridiculous. 

But that’s part of the charm though, right?

The costume she’s settled on is slightly more modest than the rest, now that she’s fished out those stupidly expensive thigh-high boots she’d bought for a red carpet event once, that rise just high enough to conceal the ridiculous amount of leg on show. Any other night, she wouldn’t mind in the slightest, but they tones the outfit down enough that she’s positive she won’t offend the eyes of the conservative parents whose kids run around with her nephews. 

It’s not a big deal. She doesn’t particularly care. She only cares what Marcus thinks. 

If he likes it, who cares what anyone else thinks.

The least-revealing costume in the store happened to be that of a special agent or a spy or something like that. It’s a little... on-the-nose. Still, she figures it’s fitting. 

The dress’ weird vinyl material that creaks and squeaks whenever she moves and there’s a pair of flimsy plastic handcuffs strapped through the belt loops along with an already half-worn away sheriff’s badge that shines dully under the soft light of her bedroom. It’s cheap - anyone can tell that - but the whole thing has been last-minute, Marcus trying his hardest for a solid month to persuade her to abandon her tradition and come to the party with him. Only for him. Only him.

She truly does love Halloween. And Fall is her favourite time of year. But she’d spent all week at Halloween parties with her castmates and friends - late night all weeks, far too much alcohol, far too many times hearing The Monster Mash playing insistently over loudspeakers - and, come Halloween night, the only thing she wanted to do was order pizza and indulge in her yearly marathon. She’s done that elaborate costume stuff all week, a thousand different costumes adorning her body, and pyjamas sound far more inviting. Halloween night is for relaxing, she thinks. If it weren’t for Marcus Pike, it would remain exactly that.

She’s still fussing over the ever-rising hem of her dress and thinking of just staying home when the doorbell rings, loud and imposing, almost scaring her as its shrill chimes cut through the soft music playing over her speakers. She huffs out a sigh of resignation, giving up on any hope she has of making herself feel better about what she’s wearing.

Marcus is standing at the door with a bottle of red wine in hand and a smile on his face. That smile falters when he sees her, for just long enough for her to think about running back upstairs and changing into something different. His parted lips finally form around the words his awestruck brain is fighting hard to form: “You look… -good.” It’s all he can muster. And he sounds pathetic.

“... Thanks?”

He shakes his head clear, that initial shock of seeing her looking so damn good dissipating the second she notices his wide eyes and drops her head back as she laughs. The long line of her neck sparkles under the warm flickering candlelight of her living room, thanks to that body lotion she wears. “You look great,” he insists.

She bites her lip as his eyes scan her figure from head to toe. She catches his eyes but she doesn’t mind one bit. She’s doing the same thing. And it’s infuriating because she’s unable to stop.

Of course Marcus looks good. Of course he does, because he always does. Even in sweats and a t-shirt, when she bursts through his door at 7am, coffee in hand, far too wide awake for the early hours of a morning. When he’s still half-asleep. He still looks good. He even looks good now, in a cheap vampire’s cape and plastic fangs. Perhaps it’s the all-black, his shirt stretched taut across his chest or the leather jacket he wears that fits him so well. 

Or, maybe, it’s just the slightly goofy grin he wears when he sees her laugh, dressed in her costume and swinging her handcuffs on the end of her finger, and the way his lips puff out a little when they fall over the edge of the fake fangs. 

She means to tell him just how good he looks but he speaks before she can.

“I brought wine.” He notes. He lifts the bottle - she’s pretty sure it’s expensive, but she knows absolutely nothing about wine - and she squints at the label, a half-hearted attempt at pretending she knows what all those words mean. She has no idea. 

She doesn’t even need to invite him inside, he just follows when she turns and makes a beeline for the kitchen. “Daniel will never let you inside with that,” she calls over her shoulder. Her eldest brother has hated wine since his wedding, when his best man had thrown up on his shoes outside the hotel that night, after one too many glasses. It was partly Coraline’s fault, though; they’d been drinking and laughing at the bar the entire night, the bartender plying them with drink after drink until someone hauled them outside to get some fresh air. Daniel had been pissed that his best friend and the smart and suited man behind the bar had been supplying his nineteen-year-old sister with copious amounts of alcohol, though he quickly forgave them at breakfast the next morning when their hangovers were so bad, they had to wear sunglasses indoors.

“Lucky for you-” She pushes up on her tiptoes and reaches to the back of the kitchen cupboard. She can feel the breeze on the back of her thighs and she hopes to god that her skirt doesn’t push up too far and reveal too much. A few moments clattering around blindly, she returns to two feet with two wine glasses. “-my brother is used to me being late.”

Marcus is already fishing for the corkscrew in the cutlery draw before she's even turned around. He swiftly pops the cork and is there waiting when Coraline sets the glasses between them. 

“Here’s to being late,” he proposes, holding his glass up for her to clink after he pours them both a generous glass. 

Here’s to being late.

...

They do turn up late. Two-hours late, to be exact. A little too tipsy. Or, at least, Coraline is. She’s in that semi-blissful state, caught somewhere between content happiness and that point where he knows she usually starts to cry, before the giggles force their way out and she’s hiccupping through adorable sobs of indistinguishable hysteria. 

He’s only seen her like that once after a particularly bad fight over the phone with Scott. And, while she’d insisted that the whole thing was hilarious, he never wanted to see her like that again. 

But, at least for now, they’re both smiling. 

And Marcus isn’t sure how anyone can be mad at Coraline when she’s smiling.

It seems like the rest of the street is having parties, too. The entire row of closely packed townhouses and luxury condos are humming with life; pop songs and fluorescent lighting fill the street. It feels like they’re in a movie, endless decoration spilling to the sidewalk, waterfalls of orange, black and purple. Everything is garishly bright and confused, all mismatched shapes and colours - surrealism, like a Dali painting, exaggerated and unusual and unnatural. It’s strange to see the neighbourhood like this, with its usually-pristine gardens, turned fantastical. 

The smell of the Potomac River drifts along the street, swirling in the gentle late-October breeze. It dances with the charred scent of fireworks that lingers low in the air, cinnamon and herbs, and the smell that lingers before the rain. It intertwines to make Halloween, in all its ghoulish glory. Yet, despite it all, the only thing he can smell is her perfume. It lingers on the breeze.

Coraline walks just ahead of him; she’s skipping down the street, light on her feet, her black heels cutting a rhythmic beat through the hum of the street as it comes alive. There’s been a smile on her face since they left her apartment, that bright blissful buzz of wine pulsing through her veins, and she looks no different from the kids and the teenagers that weave through the cars lining the street. She’s been holding his hand since they left, too. Tightly, like if she lets go, he’ll disappear. 

But he would never. He could never leave her.

She’s his best friend.

“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” she calls back to him as they near Coraline’s brother’s house. It’s the same as the rest of the houses on the street: lighting flashes through the windows - orange and white and purple, casting shapes across the front yard, the yard that’s draped in Halloween decorations - and the soft hum of music pumped through the half-open front windows. 

She turns to watch him, walking backwards, still holding his hand. He’s taller than her, even in her heels, so she glances up at him with a pout on her red lips. There’s a little bit of awe in his chest as he watches her navigate the cobblestones blindly, not even faltering on her heels once. She wears Halloween so well. She makes the party store costume look better than it has any idea being. Those that pass - kids, teenagers, their parents, varying degrees of effort in their costumes - watch as they walk, when she pokes a long nail at his chest. “You’re to blame.”

“It’ll be fun, love.” He poses.

She raises a sceptical eyebrow. “Oh, really?” Coraline turns to glare at him. “Dressed like this?” She gestures to herself and the dress she feels completely ridiculous wearing. “I don’t think so.”

“But that’s the point of Halloween.” 

She notices the way his brown eyes sparkle beneath the moonlight. 

Cora hums in contemplation. “I still can’t believe you talked me into this.” She repeats, but there’s a hint of a smirk on her lips. 

“You’ll get over it.”

...

Three hours into the party and Coraline disappears. One moment, she’d been swaying with her nephew, Elliot, to Fleetwood Mac, grinning and giggling as she spun him from side-to-side in her arms. Marcus had watched her from the refreshment table in the corner, engaged in a half-idle conversation with Cora’s sister-in-law, Kimmy, as she cleared the dirty plates and refreshed the chips. He thinks she noticed him watching her but she’s far too polite to say anything if she did. She just seemed to hum knowingly and sweep away towards the kitchen as he watched Coraline twirl gracefully to the soft melody of Dreams. 

She’d brought a jacket with her, the cold creeping in right as they’d made to leave the house, and the loose fabric brushed against her legs as she swayed on her heels. The breeze that wandered through the open living room window billowed beneath it. She looked ethereal like that; all beautiful and glowing and bright, basking in the vibrant flashing lights and overly-gaudy Halloween decorations that don’t quite fit the gentle songs that float through the room. Coraline had been deep in conversation with a seemingly endless stream of Daniel and Kimmy’s friends and there had been a tense set to her brow as a consequence. Now, she looks jovial and carefree and relaxed. The wine they’d drunk before they arrived - and the bottle she and Kimmy had been sneaking in the corner of the room, giggling like school girls as they filled their cups whenever Daniel wasn’t looking - probably helped her on her way but it’s refreshing to see her like this. Happy.

So much for someone convinced she wouldn’t have fun.

Marcus turned to grab another drink as the song finished, fading away into the next, and within a moment she was gone, lost in the slowly thinning crowd that danced through the living room. The two-year-old that had previously been in her arms was halfway across the room, tugging on his father’s Batman costume. The crowd that seemed to part for her and her giggling nephew had thickened again, spilling over the dancefloor where she’d spun moments earlier.

He finally finds her perched on the kitchen counter, swinging her legs back and forth idly, staring out at the Potomac River as the moon sparkles across its surface. There’s a paper plate of chocolate cake perched on her knees, stolen from the one Kimmy had taken from the buffet table earlier in the night. She prods at it absentmindedly with a fork, smearing the purple and orange frosting across the plate like she’s painting on a canvas. Pale moonlight scatters across her face; her eyelashes cast gentle arching silhouettes beneath her eyes and sloping shadows across the soft lines of her cheekbones. 

She doesn’t hear him at first. The music, Creep by Radiohead, plays in the living room. He knows most of the words to the song because Coraline has played it on vinyl so many times in the late evenings of summer, when the windows are open the whole way and the curtains billow in the breeze. Her brother has good taste, just like her; the pleasant nostalgia of eighties rock pouring through the speakers. It’s muffled by the closed door of the kitchen, slightly broken door that he’d offered to fix the first time he’d been for lunch jammed shut to allow her some peace and quiet. 

He enters as quietly as he can but the music spikes through the doorway when he opens it and draws her attention away from the glittering ripple of the water. She smiles fondly when she sees him, for a moment, and her head turns back to the view from the kitchen window. 

“You okay?” He asks. He settles in front of her, leaning back against the island opposite her. “You wandered off.”

She doesn’t seem upset. Her expression is soft and content. “I’m alright,” she insists.

The kitchen is quiet. 

The world seems so far away.

Everything that has happened before and everything that might happen after that moment doesn’t matter.

Everything will be alright.

Coraline huffs out a laugh and closes her eyes, tilting her head back to let the cool breeze of the open window sweep over her bare neck. “Just needed a bit of quiet. It’s a little-“ She makes a motion with her hands, almost like she’s strangling someone. Somehow, it makes sense to him. “-full-on in there.”

Marcus watches her. His dark gaze flickers across her face as she carries on kicking her legs gently back and forth, manoeuvring himself so the toe of her boot doesn’t slam into his shin. The world just carries on around them; the party continues in the living room, the music continues playing and everyone else moves on with their lives as Marcus and Coraline exist in that quiet moment where nothing but each other matters.

There’s a brief beat of silence filled by gentle guitars and soft lyrics.

She’s watching the water in awe. He’s watching her the same way. 

You’re just like an angel, your skin makes me cry.

“Cake?” She offers out half-heartedly after a moment’s contemplation, soft green eyes drawing back to his face. An affectionate smile tugs at her lips.

He shakes his head. “I’m good.”

“Thank god.” The smile widens to a grin and she puffs out a small giggle. “You would have broken my heart if you’d said yes.” She hums as she brings a forkful of the cake to her lips, savouring the sweet taste on her lips. Her tongue darts out delicately to chase the remains. Her lipstick leaves a red spider web across the fork.

He won’t, but he’s never wanted to kiss her more than in that moment. The world stops for a moment when she meets his gaze as she does it, peeling her eyes away, cheeks flushing slightly. He won’t, but, god, he thinks she’s lovely. He won’t kiss her. Kissing her on the cheek or the nose or the forehead, that’s different. It’s familiar. It’s welcomed with a smile and she does the same to him, sometimes. Kissing her for real. That’s entirely different. He doesn’t kiss her unless she asks him to. Until she wants him to.

Whatever makes you happy. Whatever you want.

“That good, huh?” 

She nods. “I don’t know where Kimmy buys it from but it’s incredible.”

“Hmm, maybe I will take some.” He reaches for her plate but she tugs it away, a mock-offended expression on her face. 

“Hey!” She pouts. “Pretty sure that’s theft, Marcus Pike. Don’t make me arrest you.” She chides, patting the plastic handcuffs that rattle against her belt. 

“I’m pretty sure I’m the only one with the authority to actually arrest someone,” Marcus attests, quirking an eyebrow in amusement. 

“Not tonight.” She hums, tapping a nail against the badge that rests against her chest. She tilts her head and a bright smile crosses her red lips. She wears that gentle glow of wine across her cheeks, all pink and rosy. Coraline reaches up to card her fingers through the curls at the back of his head. Marcus sighs at the feeling of her nails scraping across the scalp at the nape of his neck. She leans closer for a second, so close that he can feel the warmth of her breath fan across his cheeks. Her eyelashes dip as she traces patterns across his scalp and dances the digits over her other hand up the bare expanse of his arm, prickled in goosebumps from the light scrape of her nails. There’s a blissful haze that passes her expression when she glances back out across the moon-drenched river. His breath hitches in his throat whenever she touches him like that. Whenever there’s intended intimacy behind it. That comfort that settled between them long ago.

Coraline doesn’t even realise she’s doing it, sometimes. It feels like second nature, now. 

She can feel her cheeks burning at the thought of it all.

She pulls her hand away from him all too soon. Marcus thinks about chasing her hand, pulling it back to hold him again with the lightest of touches. But he lets her go. Again. The moonlight casts silver shadows across her face like some kind of goddamn angel basking in the light. Instead, he just watches her as she picks the paper plate of cake back up, brings up another forkful and smiles in delight at the taste.

“Oh, really?” He answers in response to her earlier words, realising he’s spent far too much time watching her than he should. His hand brushes the outside of her knee before it comes to rest on the kitchen counter beside her leg. It’s unintentional. At least, he thinks.

You’re so fucking special. I wish I was special.

“Cora-“ He calls to catch her attention again. She turns her head to face him, her eyebrows raised a little in expectancy and surprise. “-you’ve got some frosting-“ Marcus swipes at the side of his mouth, where Coraline has a spot of purple frosting clinging to the corner of her lips, blemishing the otherwise-perfect red-paint. 

He steps forward again, reaching his thumb up to swipe the frosting away. She watches his movements at first, before her gaze focuses intently on his face and the dark-eyed gaze that follows the slow movements of his thumb. When he moves to pull it away, to wipe in on a piece of kitchen towel, she reaches for it, pressing the frosting-covered pad of his thumb against her lips. 

She grins around it when her eyes widen, swiping her tongue over the soft flesh, before pulling it back slowly. There’s a ring of red lipstick around his thumb. Her voice is low when she speaks, in tone and volume. She peers up at him through her lashes. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t know what she was doing. “You can’t let good frosting go to waste.”

He wants to swear. He needs to. Because all he can think of, right now, is kissing her. Again. He wants to taste the frosting still lingering on her tongue and he wants that red lipstick to stain his lips. He wants her hands in his hair, tugging and twisting as he presses his mouth to hers and he wants to feel her smile against him when the way she pulls him closer makes him groan. 

He wants to feel all that he can barely have. He wants the memories that linger when he’s in bed without her at his side, when their insane agreement isn’t in action. He wants more than fleeting moments. He wants it all. 

But he’s just being selfish. 

And, besides, she doesn’t want that, either. Not now. Not here.

“Do you want to leave?” It’s intended to be an innocent question. But, with all those thoughts and those hidden desires, with all those feelings he isn’t positive are anything more than shallow, unrequited and completely ridiculous and the swipe of her velvet-soft tongue over the pad of his thumb, it sounds loaded. He’s breathless. He groans to himself and steps back from her. 

Coraline doesn’t fail to notice the way his fingers skim the bare expense of her outer thigh when he moves. She half-wonders what he’s implying with it. She never knows what’s intentional between them anymore. She thinks it probably has meaning; she had his thumb between her lips just moments before. She isn’t even sure what she was implying. 

“We can get pizza.” 

“Pizza, huh?” She hums in contemplation, but there’s no decision to be made. In her mind, she’s already said he’s a thousand times, and she’s been ready to say yes since the moment they stepped through Daniel’s front door. As much as she loves Daniel and Kimmy and her niece and nephews, nothing sounds better than pizza on the couch with Marcus. “What kind of pizza?” She toys, musing the image over in her mind, finishing off the last mouthful of cake, already missing the sweet frosting.

But, intentional or not, goosebumps prickle across her skin. 

He’s leaning closer, now. He can’t help it. She draws him in with that damn smile. “Veggie.”

Her favourite.

“Tempting.”

“Very tempting.”

“From the pizza place on Pennsylvania?” Her eyes light up at the prospect. Her back straightens and they’re looking each other in the eyes. 

Marcus brushes a thumb across her knee. Coraline tries her best to hide the shudder that threatens to pull through her at his touch. Heat pools in her stomach and her chest and her breath hitches in her throat. “Where else?”

She groans, small and breathy, pushing its way from her mouth, almost like she’s been winded. Her eyes close over. Her eyelids flutter. Her head is swimming from the wine she’s drunk, head buzzing with that pleasant intoxication as the alcohol sweeps through her. She can’t help it. She can’t stop it. But she can’t tell whether it’s a response to the promise of her favourite pizza or the feeling of his warm palm against her leg. She doesn’t particularly want to know. But she brushes it off as the wine. It makes more sense.

It’s a little embarrassing.

Her eyes open again and he’s still looking at her, expectation and gentility in his gaze. “And garlic bread?”

He smirks in amusement. “Whatever you want, Cora.” His thumb brushes over her knee again. “Whatever you want.”

She grins. “How can I say no to that?”

“You can’t,” Marcus insists. He steps back from the counter and she slips off, smoothing out her dress and shucking her jacket around herself as the wind casts a shiver across her skin.

“Can I at least change first?”

He exhales a laugh through her nose. “Nope.”

“Oh, Marcus, come on!” She groans. His hand slips into hers; her delicate fingers curl around his, her palm soft against his work-calloused hands. “I look ridiculous.”

“It’s Halloween, love.” The pet name makes her legs feel weak. His voice is low and affectionate when he turns back towards her. He ducks his head and kisses her cheekbone. He lingers to whisper in her ear: “And you look hot.”

[spriteandnicotine]

Smoke- Part 1

Pairing-> Prince Zuko x Fem! reader

Word Count-> 1.4K+

t/w: facial burns, angst (and a lil bit of fluff)

a/n: Hello again. Another big thanks to @gayforgreen-martians for helping me edit. I’m going to start a tag list so just comment if you want to be added. All parts linked below. Just a reminder to check the warnings on each part individually. I hope you enjoy 💕

Prologue        Part 1       Part 2       Part 3

As you are boarding the vessel, you see a familiar boy walking into the bowels of the ship. He has raven colored hair, pulled back into a tight ponytail. Even from a distance, there is no mistaking him; you know a prince when you see one, even if he is exiled.

The guards push you once your feet make connection with the boards on the ship's deck. With your hands still bound behind you, there is no way for you to catch your balance and you fall face first onto the wood. 

The guards laugh then proceed to pick you up by the arms, taking you into the depths of the ship. They place you behind a set of bars and release you from your restraints. As they turn to walk away you say, "Hey! aren't you going to let me out? I'm not a prisoner."

They ignore you and continue to move up to the first deck. Getting thirsty, you take note of a bottle of water located ten feet from the cell. You focus every ounce of willpower within you on getting the water to move.

The water within the bottle sloshes side to side, causing the container to tip and begin to roll towards you. After a few seconds, the water was just outside of the bars, easily accessible. As you are opening the bottle, a door to the left of you creaks, causing you to jump.

"I'm telling you uncle Iroh, it has to be around here somewhere," you hear a voice drift from the ajar door. 

Suddenly, the door swings open to reveal the prince with a fresh burn mark on his face. "Who the hell are you, and why are you here?" His face twists into a look of disgust, and as he sees the bottle in your hands, he turns away, growls, and shoots a stream of fire into the ship's bulkheads.

"Y-Y/N, I was exiled y-your highness," you say, tripping over your words. The last thing you want is for him to hate you. 

"Hmmph," he said, turning and walking back through the open door, slamming it shut behind him.

It's five years on since the date you’ve been exiled, and it seems like it has been forever since you first met Zuko. After the first couple of years, he warms up to you. His hair is now shaggier and the burn on his face has healed to an extent, but looks rugged in the way you admire.

"Zuko! I heard from a water-bender in the last village we were at, that Aang was headed back to the South Pole," you said excitedly, smiling at the eighteen year old.

"Y/N,  you know I prefer it when you call me your highness," he said, giving you a dangerous smile that shows off his straight white teeth. Turning away he continued, "Uncle Iroh, set a course to the South Pole immediately. In the meantime, Y/N and I need to train. If we want to catch Aang once and for all we need to be smart. We need to outdo him," and as he says this, your heart warms and you feel the blood rush to your cheeks.

Your skin the hue of a tomato, you reply instantly, "If you want any respect, then let me use my water bending. I am sick and tired of trying to suppress what my mother has passed on to me." 

After years of careful research and visiting multiple water tribes, you learned about your mother.  She was the daughter of a leader. She ran away while young with a member of the Fire Nation, your dad.

"You must first master fire, then you can move on to water bending," Prince Zuko sighs, as he proceeds to taunt you by signalling for you to make the first move.

You allow the rage to build inside of you. The Avatar is your last hope. If you can't beat him, you can't go back home. You need to get home. You need to see your dad again. As your anger peaks, you let out a yell, expelling fire from both of your fists at once, aiming it towards the deck.

Zuko jumped back, narrowly avoiding the attack. He responds by sending an equally hot flame your way, directing it to your stomach. You cancel out the flames, sending them back at him, along with your own, this time aiming for his calves.

He tries to avoid the assault, but is unable to due to the height of the flames. The red heat licks at his pants, searing the ends of them. You quickly run over to him, kicking his legs out from under him. 

After he falls to the ground, you guide the water to extinguish the flames, creating a black puff of smoke. "Do you surrender now, your highness?" you sneer down at him, offering a hand to help him up.

"Okay okay fine, it may be useful to work on your water bending. I'll watch and give you objectives. We are a few hours away from the Avatar, so don't wear yourself out," he replies while grabbing your hand and standing up.

After he is up, his hand lingers on yours, his thumb brushing against the back of your hand. After a minute of staring at him, he realizes what he is doing and his face turns a brilliant shade of pink. "Uhh s-sorry Y/N," he said quickly, rubbing the back of his head.

You respond by going around him and jumping onto his back. "You're the best Zuko! We are going to kick the Avatar's ass, and you are going to get the Fire Nation back. I just hope it's enough for me to go back too,” you sigh, the weight of the situation is sitting on your chest, constricting your airway.

"I promise, Y/N, I will do everything in my power to get you back into the Fire Nation. It is our home, and always will be," he says, leaning down to let you off his back.

The next few hours fill up with tasks like catching a fish within water and bringing it onto the deck. You fill a bubble of water with air and place it around his face to be funny. He freaks out for a few seconds before he realizes he can breathe. He proceeds to laugh, and the sight is so attractive it warms you up. 

Suddenly, the ship crashes into ice. The glacier begins to split down the middle, and you spot a giant buffalo, along with the one person you have been trying to track down for years.

Prepping the restraints in your back pockets, you step off the ship. Iroh invented a special rope that prevents water, earth, air, and fire bending, just for this task.

You hide behind a pile of snow as Zuko goes to directly confront him with others in the army. Aang does his best, fighting fire with fire. You take the opportunity to move the snow from beneath the Avatar's feet into his fire, thus melting the snow and putting out his attempts at fighting back.

You smile to yourself and run as fast as you can towards the group of people. Zuko is on top of Aang, asking him where his so-called friends are. They abandoned him a few years ago. He only has Appa. 

You make quick work of tying Aang's hands behind his back, along with securing his feet with the second set of restraints. You look to Appa, and feel a twinge of pain run through your chest. It isn't worth it. Not now. This is your chance. You can't let your feelings for animals get the best of you.

You take the Avatar by the back of his shirt and push him roughly onto the vessel. You, along with Zuko lead him into the bowels of the ship, placing him inside the same cell you lived in for roughly a month. He has a look of disappointment on his face. The tears on his cheeks glistened in the red light beneath the vessel.

Looking at Zuko, you can't help but grin as you say, "I'd consider that a job well done, your highness." As you say 'your highness,' you wink at him and see his cheeks turn red, you are satisfied. Zuko quickly turns, and directs the person leading the ship back to the Fire Nation.

Taglist: @megalodon-writes @haylaansmi @furblrwurblr