#he got the dogs spread open like he kneading dough

[dilftaroooo]

*insert very loud ‘vine boom’ sound*

[milkyybuns]

Sweet Cinnamon

Uzui Tengen & Wives x gn!Reader

--

*:･ﾟ.✧*:･ﾟ.✧

Warnings: SFW, flirty flirty Tengen, lightly suggestive, domestic fluff

Synopsis: You and your sweet girlfriends are baking some delicious cinnamon rolls, but your big dumb boyfriend can’t help but be a nuisance.

a/n: tbh Tengen would probably want to bake something more flashy like a croquembouche or bombe alaska. but cinnamon buns are cuter so... t'was hard to put five people in a kitchen so I tried to involve everyone in different ways. enjoy c:

Requested by: @mindlesschicca

—

You and the girls were planning a picnic for Valentine's Day, so you all got up extra early to begin the preparations according to plan.

Suma and Makio stayed in bed with Tengen so he wouldn't notice that half of his beloveds were gone, while you and Hinatsuru tiptoed into the kitchen.

You made coffee for the two of you, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes as you swirled the jug that brimmed with shiny frothy milk.

Hinatsuru mixed together the sugar, eggs and melted butter. When she added the flour, she stirred just a little too vigorously and ended up with white powder all over her face, making you giggle. She hid her embarrassment by taking a sip of coffee, before moving on to knead the dough. While you two waited for the dough to rise, you decided to check on Tengen.

You peeked into the bedroom; to your dismay, Tengen was already awake and was lazily stroking Suma and Makio's hair as they snuggled further into his chest, snoring softly.

"Morning sweetheart." He said with a soft smile, voice slightly raspy.

"They was supposed to make sure you don't wake up." You pouted. "We're making something nice for you, so don’t come into the kitchen!”

"Mm, you and Hina better hurry then, I'll hold down the fort here." He said, teasing.

"Go back to sleep." You jokingly scolded before heading back to the kitchen.

After the dough had swelled into a big fluffy ball, you rolled it out and spread softened butter over it and sprinkled it with brown sugar and cinnamon mixture. It was all coming together and you were super excited to eat these delicious treats.

Hinatsuru tightly rolled the dough up, making sure to seal the edges of the dough as best she could. Before cutting them into 1 inch pieces and snugly fitting them into the tray.

"Oven's ready!" You chimed.

As you baked the buns, the small space of the kitchen soon filled with the tantalising aroma of sweet cinnamon.

Putting on your oven mitts, you carefully took the baked treats out. You placed them on a wire rack next to the open window. All your neighbours and any passerby would be able to smell the heavenly scent wafting out of your kitchen.

“Nice buns.”

Your boyfriend chimed in from behind you.

You rolled your eyes as Tengen wrapped his arms around your waist, placing featherlight kisses up your nape and on the side of your neck.

"Happy Valentine's Day babe~” He breathed into your ear, making you shudder.

"C'mon Ten don't distract me, we still need to make the frosting." You feigned annoyance, swatting away the wandering hands that ran up and down your sides.

"Mm I’ll help." He said, gently resting his chin on the top of your head and his strong arms loosely wrapped around your waist.

Realising this big puppy dog of a man wasn't going to let go anytime soon, you got started on the frosting. You beat together the cream cheese, butter, sugar and vanilla, until it was smooth, fluffy and reminded you of your boyfriend's hair.

Two sneaky fingers dipped into the frosting just before you could stop them.

"Oi! Keep out of it or we won't have enough for the buns." You chided.

You twisted your head around and came face to face with the culprit: pretty burgundy eyes framed by messy morning hair. Tengen's pink tongue stuck out to lick the sticky icing off his fingers. Sucking them clean and swirling his tongue around the digits exaggeratedly.

Your gaze then drifted down as you realised that he was wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, skin still damp from the shower.

"Tastes divine." He commented, a sly smile forming on his face once he realised you were shamelessly eyeing him up.

"Uwahh smells s'good!" Suma sleepily strolled into the kitchen, a sheepish Makio behind her. Both of them in matching pyjamas.

You smiled at the sight of your lovely girlfriends. All of whom were so damn cute in the morning.

"Breakfast is ready!" Hinatsuru sang out from the dining room.

You finished icing the cinnamon rolls before joining the others for a delicious breakfast of fluffy rice, egg, fish and miso soup.

It was your first Valentine's Day with four other people, but you had a feeling it’ll turn out just fine.

[pillow-anime-talk]

mistletoe. {pt.1}

synopsis: A little joke on Giyuu, making gingerbread cookies with Edward and a date with Ryouta.

# tags: scenarios; christmas!au; current relationships; romance; fluff; sfw

includes: female reader ft. giyuu tomioka {kny} + edward elric {fma} + ryouta kise {knb}

part two {click}

author’s note: for @yvsevie​, my precious smol baby. i love you.

— GIYUU

It was the first Christmas you spent as Pillar, as Giyuu’s girlfriend, and as teacher of your first and also last tsuguko. You didn’t mind spending Christmas like this; frankly, could anyone think of feasting at the moment when bloodthirsty demons and other strange creatures were running around each villages or towns? That’s why you spent your time training in your estate with a young boy who would replace your Ice Pillar position in a few next days, weeks, months or years.

“... We should take a short break, right?” You asked, seeing your successor breathing harder and harder. “I’ll go get something to drink and you can sit on the engawa.” You put your katana into its scabbard and then headed towards your home. However, when you entered the small kitchen, you chuckled at the sight of Giyuu who was sitting at the table, drinking his coffee as if he were at his own home. “Well, hello. Why didn’t you say ‘Hi’ to me earlier?” You asked, taking out two glasses.

“You were training, so I didn’t want to disturb both of you.” He replied calmly, setting the black mug on the wooden table. “Are you two finished yet?”

“We’re taking a break.” You poured cool water and then you stood in front of your dark-haired lover. “You would like to sit with us?”

“Yes, why not.” He smiled gently, then walked with you towards the entrance to the pretty, snowy garden.

When you got outside, however, your frowned as you determined that your heir wasn’t in the garden. Instead of his light blue haori and long blonde hair always pinned up in a ponytail, you noticed a little, white note. So, you picked it up quickly and read the content on the paper:

‘Sorry, sensei! I forgot that I had to help my mom bake a cake for Christmas! So see you tomorrow.

PS. Look up :D’

You frowned, and when you looked up at the wooden roof of your engawa, your cheeks automatically flushed a bit at the sight of a small sprig of mistletoe attached to a wooden beam with a thin string. Giyuu glanced at the same place, and seeing the little plant, he only smiled slightly under his breath.

“Your successor is quite funny, don’t you think?”

“Yes. It is true. He will replace me very well.” You giggled, letting your mouth taste the flavor of coffee and something sweet that you couldn’t identify at first.

Nevertheless, this little joke made you feel the magic of Christmas, despite the lack of a Christmas tree or gifts, and you were incredibly grateful to your beloved student for that.

— EDWARD

“... Edward! Stop throwing flour at me!” You looked imploringly at your fiancé, and he just giggled as he looked away at the huge, metal bowl in which he mixed hot water with powdered sugar to make frosting to decorate your cookies. You sighed softly under your breath, then returned to kneading another dough with your hands. After a while, however, you felt the white dust, commonly known as flour spread around you one more time. “E-Ed! Please!”

“Sorry, sorry!”

“Do it again and I swear you’ll sleep naked outside.” You spoke in a serious tone of voice, even though both of you knew you would never let him freeze to death, much less during the holidays, even more the first holidays that were supposed to be full of guests.

Alphonse and Mei with the smol panda were to appear! Also Roy with Rize and dear major Armstrong. Of course, Winry with her boyfriend, her grandmother and their cute dog were also invited. Gracia with Elicia cannot be forgotten. Mr. and Mrs. Curtis too and even Ling Yao with Lan Fan as well. There were supposed to be many of your loved ones, so you had to make just as many food, cakes and cookies. And Edward didn’t make it easy for you, because instead of helping you, he was throwing flour, sugar, cocoa and edible, colorful sprinkles or glitter at you.

Like for example now; once again you felt something hit your head and it turned out it was a handkerchief, rolled in a small but quite hard ball. So, your hands  slowly backed away, then you wiped them on your red apron and you turned just as slowly towards your boyfriend, smiling at him as if you were telling him you were going to break his neck or crush his long legs. Edward, however, only chuckled and then walked closer to you with the same dumb smile he always had on his lips when he knew he had done something silly but funny.

“Sweetheart, don’t be upset. Christmas isn’t the time to fight! Better look up, my pretty angel.” His broad smirk made you sigh again loudly and loosen your tense arms. Nevertheless, you looked up and the first thing you saw was Edward’s hand holding a small twig of green mistletoe. You glanced at him again, laughing to yourself.

“How old are you to still play this?” You rolled your both eyes and was about to go back to your dark dough, but the blonde man grabbed your waist and pulled your body much closer to his more muscular one. He placed a tender, quite long kiss on your lips, and when the caress was over, Edward rested his forehead against yours.

“I’m old enough to still giving you stupid reasons to keep kissing me.”

— RYOUTA

“It’s... It’s so beautiful here.” You whispered under your breath as you looked around. “W-Woah. I...”

Kise took you for a ride in his car, however, two minutes ago he parked the car on the side of the road and then grabbed your smaller than his hand saying he had a little ‘surprise’ for you. Of course you went with him and it turned out to be a breathtaking view of the city, all lit up with colorful lights and sweet decorations. It was also snowing a bit so everything looked even more magical. You were incredibly surprised, of course most positively.

That’s why you turned to smile at the blonde-haired young man, and he only returned your facial expression, but then coughing delicately so that you would open the shiny eyes you closed a few seconds ago.

“You have a gorgeous smile and I love it the most in the world, but I think...” He started quietly, suddenly taking something green from his coat pocket. After a second it turned out to be mistletoe. You chuckled under your nose and your loved one looked at your flushed face again. “I think I deserve more, princess. All the more so because it’s Christmas day... You know.” He said in an amused, but still gentle and emotional voice, at which you only giggled again, standing on the tips of your toes or rather your shoes, to be able to reach his pretty face, and more precisely to his lips which tasted of coffee and chocolate-nut cake.

The kiss was slow, but very warm, and although your lips were cold due to the temperature outside, this peck gave the two of you a lot of heat on your hearts and cheeks. You even smirked during this wonderful caress, grabbing the boy by his soft, pale skin. The fabric of your wool gloves tickled Kise a little, but he didn’t pay much attention to it; instead, he kissed you once more, but this time on the nose that was red from the cold, and on the forehead, covered in the material of the cap, perfectly matching your gray gloves.

“... Thanks for showing me this, Ryouta. It’s really, really amazing.” You whispered, glancing once again at the colorful and white lights that decorated your whole city, including all the trees, buildings and houses. “I didn’t expect to see something like this in my life.”

“Then get used to it, because next year I’m going to take you to many other equally cool places.” The sincere tone of his smooth voice, and another short kiss on the cheek, made you cuddle closer to the side of his massive body.

In meantime, you still watched the magnificent sights and thought about where you both should go next time.

[thethistlegirlwrites]

Comfortember day 13 (Baking)

The minute I saw this prompt on the list I got very excited to do it with John and his little found family, so today’s is a bit long!

"I know this is good in hot cocoa, but chilies and chocolate in bread?" Cody asks, eyeing the dough filling John is mixing in the biggest bowl Robin could find in his kitchen. 

"I find your lack of faith disturbing," John chuckles. "But yeah. Trust me. And Robin's had my cookies." He dumps in the small bowl of dried, chopped chiles that have been soaking while he works. The filling is already smelling deliciously rich, he used up the last of the really good cocoa powder from home, that's stronger than anything he can buy in the grocery stores here. He did find local honey and used up almost half the bottle of thick amber sweetness in this recipe. 

Momma says food is only as good as what you put into it. And John doesn't plan on skimping on that, especially in something as important as their unofficially named 'Friendship Bread'. Because that's the sort of thing that only turns out as good as what you put in too. 

"Alright, let's see if the dough's risen enough to start putting it all together," He adds, opening the oven where the bread dough is rising, checking the consistency of the dough and nodding approval. 

Robin hops down from where he's been perched on the edge of the counter where he's been watching John work and also keeping the overly curious animals out of the food. John is pretty sure the dough has some cat and dog hair in it, but he doesn't mind. Everything has cat and dog hair when Robin is involved. 

SMELLS DELICIOUS, Kira signs.  

"Bitter, salty, savory, sweet," John says. "There's a little bit of all of them in here." He turns out the dough onto the counter and begins to knead it, just enough to prepare for braiding. 

He leans on the counter. "Momma says there should be as many strands in the braid as there will be people eating it." He slices the dough into four chunks and then sets each one in front of Cody, Kira, and Robin before picking up his own. "Now you're going to roll this out into a flat long rectangle, about as wide as your hand and as long as your arm."

For a few minutes, the kitchen is silent aside from the soft swish of hands against the dough and rolled up sleeves against the edge of the counter. Once the rectangles are done, John spreads a line of the filling down the center of each and they all roll them up like tiny versions of Momma's cinnamon rolls. Then John presses the ends of the strands together and they begin braiding.

It looks like none of the others have ever worked a four stranded braid before. There's a good deal of confusion, missed sections, and bumping elbows, but in the end, the slightly lumpy loaf is finished, brushed with water and sprinkled with coarse salt, and ready to be baked. John slides the baking sheet into the oven and all four of them sit down at the table with a deck of cards to play 'go fish'. The cards have literal fish on them; Robin found them at a fae shop that sells handmade paper goods, and they're slightly enchanted, the fish seem to move a little every time a card is laid down on the table. 

The smell of baking, a combination of the yeasty bread, dark chocolate, honey, and chili pieces, fills the kitchen. Cody eventually bows out of the game to play with Poe on the floor with some string, since otherwise the cat is too fascinated by the fish on the cards and keeps batting everyone's hands. Kira wins two games, easily. John is sure she knows everyone's tells, she's always watching them carefully. Robin wins one game as well, he's good at keeping track of who has what cards.

Eventually, the timer on John's phone goes off. Cell signal doesn't work well in Rowan House, but the rest of the phone's features still function. He checks the bread, tapping the loaf the way Momma always did, then putting it back for a few more minutes. 

When it's done, he pulls out the loaf and sets it steaming on the cutting board, then pours glasses of milk all around. He slices off chunks of the bread, placing them on plates and handing them around the table. No one seems to care that the bread is piping hot, still steaming, as they break off chunks and taste them. Robin seems completely unaffected by the heat, maybe a consequence of his fire fae side, but Kira and Cody both drink their glasses of milk dry before they're half done. Still, they're smiling. 

John looks around the table. All together, they make something good. Their pasts wrapped up in who they are, the bittersweet moments that have made them them, and now they're all woven up with each other's lives to face the future. 

Taglist: @nade2308 @cmvorra @bands-space-and-monsters-oh-my @catwingsathena @asloudasalone @anguishmacgyver @flowing-river24 @myhusbandsasemni @floh673 @teddythecat1234 @bkworm4life4 @viawrites-andacts @amarilloskies

If you want to be added to or removed from my taglist for Magic & Silver stuff, just let me know!

[araingirl]

Zenith and Nadir: Arousal

Warning: 18+ Content! 

The first week of July it was. The season was summer but it was raining cats and dogs outside. Little by little, the arid, yearning earth was fulfilling her throat with the divine downpour showering from heaven, penetrating the ink-smeared barrier of the night. Through the dense forest of the clouds, the fierce, ferocious tigers of lightning were roaring, their reflections falling on the mirrors of the puddles gathering on the drenched ground. Black, obscure, enigmatic raindrops were trickling down from the fresh green, scintillated leaves, one by one, without any hurry. The resonations of the thunderbolts were earsplitting, shaking everyone who was awake, by fits and starts. The stray cats and dogs, barely saving themselves from the rain by taking shelter under trees or half-open shutters of the shops, were shivering violently in cold.

Even in the mid-summer, the unexpected, yet, welcoming coldness was prevailing everywhere-except one gigantic, duplex house of Japan. The abrupt heat had attacked the body of the slate-haired phoenix-prince in the same morning, without giving him a warning. Needling sensations were torturing the joints of his body like hell. Clenching his teeth, he was clasping the pillow and lying down on his bed, his bare, well-toned back facing the ceiling. Then again, the pain turned into pleasure, he moaned, absorbed in it when two slender arms crawled his midriff like a pair of cobras, enveloping his naked trunk as her manicured fingers pressed his hard, stiff flesh, like kneading the dough of bread-giving him a comfortable massage which could never be refused. Yes, Kai Hiwatari was soft as dough to those ten fingers, no matter how firm he was outside, even surpassing the grey sarsens.

A new guest pervaded, shaking the base of his patience. It was the pair of her soft, strawberry lips, travelling on the bullet wound on his waist. The burning lamp hanging from the window swung violently in a periodic pace, left and right, right and left in the rhythm of the rain and thunderbolt. His cheeks flushed; the temperature of his feverish body increased. Wasn’t the back massage enough? What was she trying to do? Taking his pain and giving him another fever? The whimper of carnal pleasures escaped from his parted lips as he closed his eyes, clutching the bedsheet tightly and getting goosebumps, sensing her intense, heated breaths near his neck, teasing him and running through his creek-like, a bit deep back dent.

He turned back as the slender brunette rode on his flat, solid abs, sprawling her lean, fair thighs to both of the sides. Putting off her skin-tight, sleeveless black top and letting her c-cup, soft breasts bedecked with faint, rose-colored nipples like cherries on the top of cakes glow in the half-illuminated room, under the seafoam green dimlight, she leaned towards him, ruby eyes twinkled in carnal desires as the fire of feminine hormones burnt all over her body, reaching the erected manhood of her husband too. Kai didn’t blink, giving his amethysts a chance to enjoy her ethereally sensual beauty that violently slammed on the door of his heart. It got literally broken when her lips crashed his, polished nails pinching his fair nipples of his mesomorphic chest and tickling his skin. The lips, bit by bit, were absorbing all his fever as tongue pushed his, torturing his taste buds with their sour-sweet strawberry-like flavor.

When you came in front of me

My heart started to beat fast

It's not your fault

It's the fault of my eyes

The thing that you fear

I'll do that and prove it to you

Don't look at me like this

I'll embrace you

I'll steal you from yourself

I'll hide you in my heart

Don't look at me like this

I'll embrace you

I'll steal you from yourself

I'll hide you in my heart…

Magically turning the saliva of each other into irresistible, strong flavors of wines as well as savoring them, they parted for breath, especially the breathless Russian suffering from a fever. Hilary’s hand progressed towards the wine bottle kept on the side-table but her husband immediately held her wrist, firmly shaking his head into a stern “No”. Hilary bit her tongue and grabbed the crystal jug of water instead. From it, the cold water drizzled on the slight deep neck-dent of the Russian which was just like a niche of hilly areas. The mini fountain cascaded from it, falling on his chest and round shoulders. When the lips of the brunette sucked from them, Kai shivered. Only she had the ability to turn water into fire, spreading it all over his skin. Hilary’s eyes were closed, she was in pure bliss because only her husband knew how to make intoxicating wine from pure, blameless water.

But when was it Kai’s nature to be dominated only, no matter how much he was enjoying it to be seduced by the brunette? A second passed within a blink, and…the brunette was right under him, pinned between his robust, twisted biceps. Grabbing the silver desert eagle, he stroked her curves with its tube, her skin with it, very slowly, from her face to her legs. Hilary moaned, grabbing the blanket and closing her eyes since each and every hair of her skin stood up, honoring the unavoidable, delicious, pleasant masculinism of her husband. Kai threw the pistol aside; his sturdy fingers were enough. Eventually some of them lunged in her silky, open chocolate locks, splayed across the warm pillow and the others kneaded her orange-shaped breasts, very gently. Lips weaved butterfly kisses through the joint of her beauty bones and shoulders, turning the night into a heaven…no, a blissful hell.

They captured her twinkling, rose nipples as the tip of tongue teased them, totally revenging and making it up for the battle against her tongue before a few minutes which he’d lost miserably. She hissed, clutching his head tightly closer to her chest as his nose dived into his bottomless cleavage, nudging there affectionately. Her fingers got intertwined around his as she pulled away his trousers with the help of her toes, bending her knees only a bit. Despite being busy in adoring and fondling her soft mounds, Kai’s hands didn’t forget to undo her bottoms too, throwing them away from the bed. Lost in the forbidden paradise of fleshly desires, Hilary smirked, noticing that her husband was never the one to accept defeat even though he was in a fever.

Before you, I've not seen

Anyone like you...

I'd not thought I'll be dead

As soon as I saw you...

I wish my night passes

In your arms,

And in you only somewhere,

Even my morning passes.

A hard, yet, unheard gasp escaped from the mouth of the brunette as she sensed the presence of his member inside the cavern of her pleasure which was literally on fire. Her nails got dunked into his shoulders, he was careful-not crushing her with the weight of his brawny body. His torso throbbed, the tight thighs shook violently with the cadence of his thick, stiff, erected manhood in her vagina, teasing her clits too sometimes by rubbing them. The rain roared more violently along with the thunderbolts outside, raging to crush the earth, yet, filling with all kinds of pleasures for which she was craving-in the sweltering summer heat. Still, her fingers were captive to his ones, lying flatly on the bed and juddering. Earthquake? Yeah, it was already evident in their room.

I didn't stop the emotions that arose in my heart

I didn't stop the emotions that arose in my heart

I didn't hinder my footsteps that led towards you

When I'm with you

Even my restlessness finds some rest

When I drown in you

My heart finds its balance

When I'm with you

Even my restlessness finds some rest

When I drown in you

My heart finds its balance

The thing that you fear

I'll do that and prove it to you…

[icecoldflames]

Chapter 5 - The Mystery of Sanders Castle

Masterlist

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

***

1820, England

The rest of that day seemed to fly by and, too soon, it was the next morning. Logan felt slightly disappointed that Virgil and Philomena would be going back home to Betrug that evening. At least at supper time yesterday his mother had told them that she had made plans with Queen Isolde (Philomena and Virgil’s mother) for Logan to visit their castle sometime in the coming weeks.

It seemed that now Virgil and Logan were on good terms, Virgil and Philomena’s visit was now almost enjoyable. In fact, when the three of them had gone horseback riding last evening and watched the sunset, he had forgotten that he was expected to marry Philomena.

It was rather dangerous, to be honest. How easily he could forget about all his issues when he had to be on top of everything and be the perfect prince. It was irresponsible to forget everything when everything was so important.

Virgil hit his shoulder with his own as he passed by. “Stop thinking so much,” he said, dropping the bag of flour on the table. “Just knead.”

Logan rolled his eyes and began kneading the dough again.

Once Philomena had seen the little kitchen on the top floor she had insisted on teaching Virgil and Logan how to make bread.

“It’s not like I can stop,” Logan said. Thinking was a part of him. It wasn’t like he could shut it off just like that. It was a blessing and a curse all in one because, while he loved solving problems and thinking intricate ideas, he also enjoyed sleeping.

“Make sure your hands are well floured,” Philomena told them, “or the dough will stick to your hands even more.” She then turned to Logan. “You just need a break from daily life. Where you don’t need to worry.”

“Easy for you to say,” Virgil said. “You don’t have to worry about becoming a king.”

“I’d much rather be a king. At least it would be more acceptable to not marry,” Philomena shot back at her brother before glancing at Logan once again.

“I’m just saying,” Philomena continued on, still kneading her bread. “Logan just needs to forget about his problems for a bit. Have some fun.” She paused. “Like baking bread! That’s what me and mother always do when we need some good fun. It also helps out the cooks.”

Logan couldn’t help the small smile from forming on his lips. He didn’t want to admit to her that these past couple of days had been the best break he’d ever had in a long time.

“Oh my gosh, he’s smiling!” Virgil exclaimed, pointing at Logan and covering his eyes. He pretended to faint and, in the process, tripped on the flour that Virgil had spilled earlier and landed flat on his butt. “Oof.”

Philomena sighed and crossed her arms. “I thought I told you to bring a broom with the extra flour.”

Virgil shrugged and chuckled a bit. “I guess I forgot.”

Philomena walked over to Virgil and began rubbing her floury hands over his head. It fell like snow onto Virgil’s hair, little bits of dough rubbing off as well. “That’s your punishment.”

“Hey,” Virgil exclaimed but he was grinning. He pulled himself up and shook himself off like a dog. He scooped up a bit of flour off the counter and began flicking it at Philomena.

Philomena shrieked with glee and ran back to her space on the other side of the counter, beginning to collect her own handful of flour off the counter.

Virgil began throwing little bits of flour over the counter and Philomena retaliated by throwing her own. Soon, above the counter was a massive flour cloud and the three of them were all coughing.

It was like seeing a snowball fight in his own kitchen. Logan began inching away, he didn’t really want to get flour on his clothes. Besides, what would his mother think if she saw him engaging in a flour-snowball fight? Her perfect prince. Soon to be wed.

But then a flour-ball hit him square in the chest. His head shot up. Logan wasn’t sure who threw it but he didn’t care. His competitiveness had been provoked and had snapped free from its chains. “Oh, it is on,” Logan said, a slow grin beginning to spread onto his face. He ran to take cover at a free end of the counter and began piling excess flour off of the counter into his cupped hands.

Seven minutes later, Logan had flour down the inside of his shirt, Virgil’s hair was covered in flour, and Philomena’s face was full of flour that made her look like a crazy ghost.

All three of them decided to stop the game before someone walked in on them. They were playing a dangerous game and, the longer it lasted, the higher the probability one of Logan’s parents would just so happen to walk down this hall.

They decided to clean up the kitchen before taking a secret passageway only Logan (and Irwin) knew to get to his bedroom so it would be easier for Philomena and Virgil to get to their own.

They all voted for Philomena to go find a broom as she was the least dirty. All she had to do was clean her face with some water whereas Virgil needed a deep hair-clean and Logan needed a new outfit. She wasn’t perfectly clean, but she was definitely better than them.

Virgil and Logan watched as Philomena went off down the hallway, following Logan’s instructions as to where the nearest broom would be (in a guest room a couple of turns away and in the closet).

Logan was amazed at how his and Virgil’s relationship had changed in just a day. If Philomena hadn’t intervened yesterday, Logan would’ve dreaded being alone with Virgil. In fact, Philomena probably wouldn’t have left them alone in the first place.

Logan glanced over at Virgil who was beginning to kick some of the flour on the floor into piles so it would be easier to sweep up.

A long, stretched out, piece of dough hung to one of Virgil’s hairs and dangled down, just out of Virgil’s view.

It bothered Logan and he swiftly walked over to him. “You’ve got something in your hair,” he stated. Virgil grinned like a cat and bent down very dramatically so they were the same height.

Logan scowled and rolled his eyes. “You aren’t that much taller than me,” Logan insisted as he began pulling the dough string out of Virgil’s hair.

Virgil chuckled. “Sure. Whatever you say, my infinitesimal professional.”

Logan didn’t know why the blood began to run to his cheeks or how, for a second, he stopped thinking. But then his thoughts began again, whirling like a steam-powered machine. “Doesn’t infinitesimal mean very large?” His eyebrows drew down in confusion, still trying to pick out the dough. He hadn’t known how sticky dough could be.

“Are you joking with me?” Virgil laughed a bit. “Infinitesimal means small. Have you ever read a dictionary?”

“Obviously,” Logan said, genuinely serious. “I used to read it before bed every night when I was younger.” He had wanted to expand his vocabulary when he was around nine and even wrote down words onto paper and cut them out, pocket-sized, so he could carry them around.

Virgil barked out a laugh. “Of course you did,” he said and Logan loved how he laughed. It was somewhere between a scoff, snort, and chuckle and he wanted to make him laugh again. “But I’m positive that it means small, not large.”

Finally, Logan pulled the string of dough out. “There,” he said, placing it on the counter. “It’s out.”

Virgil began to straighten up and Logan was aware of how very close he was to Virgil. While trying to get that piece of dough out, he had subconsciously moved closer. Logan took a quick step backwards to let the usual amount of space go between them.

However, he must have stepped onto the pile of flour Virgil had been creating because his foot slipped out from underneath him and suddenly gravity was doing its job and he was plummeting down, down, down. He shut his eyes, waiting for impact.

Before Logan landed on the pile of flour, arms swooped underneath him and began to pull him up.

Logan opened his eyes and came face to face with Virgil’s unblinking eyes. They were stunning to look at, like a cat’s. They were brown with little flecks of gold. Logan could feel his whole body heat up and his heart begin to race.

“Are you alright?” Virgil asked. He began lifting Logan's torso up but seemed to think for a second before stopping.

Logan’s legs were dangling and, while he felt safe in Virgil’s arms, he was acutely aware that he was inches off the ground.

Virgil’s face was incredibly close to Logan’s own and he noted that this was the second time in a 24 hour timespan that they were very close to kissing. But it was soon gone again and, surprisingly, no other thoughts replaced it.

His mind was absolutely silenced. So peaceful and uncommonly still that Logan wondered if he had actually hit his head on something.

Logan didn’t remember what the question was and didn’t know exactly what to say. His brain was trying to recover and he attempted to recall if he had said anything or if Virgil had said something. His brain drew a blank for the first time in his life.

But then there were footsteps and Virgil almost dropped Logan back on the floor at the sudden sound. They both blinked, as if waking up from some stupor, and Virgil yanked Logan up so suddenly that Logan lost his balance and slid down Virgil’s arms. Virgil tried to make up for this and moved his arms down and bent forward, still trying to heave Logan up. But, with everything happening all at once, Virgil fell forward and Logan fell backwards into the pile of flour so that everything went up in a puff of white.

The footsteps drew closer and Logan could see Philomena in the doorway, holding a broom. Her eyebrows drew down and she instantly dropped the broom. “Oh my goodness. What happened here? I leave for five minutes and look at what’s happened!”

Logan was under Virgil and he could feel Virgil’s racing heart like a fast drumbeat. He assumed his own was similar.

“Don’t ask,” Virgil muttered, beginning to climb off of Logan, lending a hand down which Logan took graciously.

Philomena looked at the two suspiciously for a couple of seconds before bending down to pick up the broom. She shoved it into her brother’s chest. “You sweep. Me and Logan will form the dough and put it in the oven.”

Virgil took the broom and immediately began sweeping. “Let’s catch them on fire,” he said, nonchalantly. Philomena glared over at her brother. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding!”

Logan's cheeks were so hot that he was sure they could have cooked the dough on his cheeks instead.

***

“So you’re telling me you never go for walks around your kingdom?” Philomena asked, aghast. “Even with guards around you?”

The idea was so unbelievable to Logan who only took walks in his own garden or into the woods far away from his own kingdom. “No. Of course not. My kingdom isn’t safe for royalty to take walks into the kingdom. I could be killed or kidnapped.”

All three of them, freshly cleaned and changed, were out in the garden, under Logan’s favourite gazebo.

When he had turned 19, his parents had insisted on a portrait being done. He had only agreed if he could choose where he was placed. He didn’t want to be in some stuffy room in the castle. If he was going to be sitting anywhere for long periods of time, it would be under his favourite gazebo.

“Your kingdom would try to kill you?” Philomena asked. “I mean,” she amended, “I knew there was unrest in kingdoms but I didn’t think here. What do the townsfolk have against your family?”

Logan really hated talking about his own kingdom. Especially to Virgil and Philomena who’s kingdom sounded so drastically different from his own. But it was necessary. Philomena had to understand what kind of kingdom she was marrying into.

“Oh, plenty of things,” Logan said with a roll of his eyes. “To name a few: tax is too high, my parents are too lenient with the criminals and too severe on everyday citizens who commit small criminal offences, they hoard the money and food, they don’t import enough goods, they don’t care about the citizens, they aren’t expanding the kingdom yet the population is steadily demanding it.” He listed these off on his fingers and watched as Philomena and Virgil gaped at him.

“Do you think it’s factual? That your parents are actually doing those things?” Virgil questioned. Logan still couldn’t get the scene of him and Virgil in the kitchen, faces so close to one another, out of his head.

Logan bit his lip in thought. He had always wondered this, alone in his bedroom when he probably should have been asleep. Which side was he on? Did he agree with the people or did he agree with his parents who claimed to be unaware of half of the things the citizens alleged?

To be honest, he always fell asleep before he came to a conclusion or he just came to the conclusion that that decision would be for another time. Another night. Another year.

And now two people were curious to know his opinion on something he had been putting off for years.

Virgil and Philomena looked expectantly at Logan.

Logan chose his next words very carefully. “I’m not quite sure…” he trailed off slowly.

“What do you mean?” Virgil asked.

Logan let out a little breath of air before responding. “Some of the things my parents do definitely aren’t the people’s choice but I see how they are helpful and I understand both sides. Like the higher taxes. People are paying more but everyone’s houses are pretty much stable and won’t crumble at the first signs of a storm or a hard winter. But other things just don’t add up. They just don’t make sense.” He ran a hand through his hair and adjusted his glasses. “Like the import thing—I don’t understand it. We import around the same amount of goods as any other kingdom near us yet the people are adamant that we import less than them.”

“Has anyone looked into it?” Virgil asked worriedly. “Maybe people stole it.”

Logan pursed his lips. “They did look into it, a couple of years ago.”

“And?” Philomena prompted.

Logan rubbed his face. “They found the missing goods in one of the castle’s personal food storage buildings. We interviewed all of our staff and they swore that they didn’t know how it got there. The people were furious.” He paused. “After that, we stopped trying to find the missing imports. And we don’t use that storage building anymore.”

Philomena was playing with her skirt and she looked deep in thought. “Could your parents have put it there, not the staff?”

“Philomena!” Virgil exclaimed.

“No,” Logan said, shaking his head. “My parents may be cold and calculating but they aren’t thieves. Especially taking things from their own kingdom.”

“Sorry, but you’re right. It doesn’t make sense,” Philomena said thoughtfully.

“Could your people be doing it, trying to overthrow your parents?” Virgil suggested.

All of these ideas Logan had thought of before. And every single time they came through his mind, he always hit a brick wall. “No. Our people wouldn’t do that. They’ve been unhappy for some time now. I doubt they would keep up the hoax for over ten years. They would probably try to assassinate one of us before planning something in the long run.”

“Has someone tried to reason with your people?” Virgil asked.

“Yes. A while ago, perhaps three years into the missing goods we showed a couple of the lords proof that we had imported these things but they didn’t believe us and thought we had created the proof just to silence them.”

“That’s horrible,” Virgil said.

“It’s going to be so different travelling to Betrug,” Logan said honestly. “It’ll be a nice change of scenery.”

“I can’t wait for you to meet our parents and siblings,” Philomena gushed.

“Oh right, you have three other siblings, right?” Logan asked. “Exactly how young are they?” Being an only child and not ever interacting with other children around his own age (except maybe the odd royal who visited) meant that he wasn’t exactly the best with children or with meeting new people. Which worried him since he was expected to have an heir and raise them.

“Well, there’s Philomena, obviously, then me, then Mabel at 17, then Lillian who’s 14, and then Peter at 9,” Virgil explained, listing each sibling off on his fingers.

“Wow, I can’t imagine having that many siblings,” Logan said. He would probably be fine with maybe one sibling although he wasn’t sure which he preferred—a sister or brother.

“It definitely gets rambunctious at times. Especially Peter. He’s a little rascal,” Philomena said, wrinkling up her nose.

“Yeah but Lillian taught him everything. She’s worse than Peter because Lillian is actually smart,” Virgil argued.

“I’m sure that when Peter grows up, he’ll be plenty smart. He’s nine. Of course he isn’t as smart as Lillian. Just like Lillian isn’t as smart as Mabel and so on and so forth.”

Virgil rolled his eyes playfully. “You’re just saying that because you think you’re smarter than me.”

Philomena opened her mouth, “I’m not saying that. I’m just saying that, as people get older, people get smarter and wiser.”

Virgil pointed to Logan. “So you think you’re smarter than Logan?”

Logan intervened before the lighthearted argument could take a plummet. “I think everyone’s smart in their own way.”

Philomena laughed. “Good point.”

***

Lunch passed way too quickly and soon Virgil and Philomena’s carriage was on its way to take them home. Logan would have to wait another month before seeing them again.

He didn’t want them to go. Logan knew the castle would be too quiet. Too lonely. There was no Irwin and now Philomena and Virgil would be going home.

Logan put those thoughts away for now, they weren’t gone yet. Currently, they were in the guest room that he had directed Philomena to in order to find the broom earlier that morning. It had a view of the road to the castle so all three of them would know when the carriage would be arriving.

All three of them were oddly silent.

Everything just seemed to be sinking in. What this whole meeting was supposed to be about. It was just supposed to be a couple of days for Logan and Philomena to get to know each other.

But Logan felt like it had been much more than that. He didn’t know what his feelings were. They were like a massive knot and he didn’t know how to unravel and make sense of them.

He felt guilty that he wasn’t thinking about Irwin. Shouldn’t he be thinking more about him? Shouldn’t he be thinking more about his fast approaching wedding? But, instead of this, all he could discern from his knot of feelings was that he didn’t want Virgil to leave.

Philomena broke the silence. “This isn’t the last time we’re going to see each other.” She tried to put on a smile but it wavered. “We’ll see each other in a month.”

Logan and Virgil didn’t say anything.

Philomena rolled her eyes. “You two are acting like it’s a funeral.”

Logan awkwardly scratched the back of his neck while Virgil slipped his hands underneath him and stared down at his feet.

Philomena sighed and finally stood up from the rocking chair she had been sitting on. “I can’t just sit here anymore. I’m going to do a sweep of our rooms in case we forgot anything. Virgil, just come get me when the carriage arrives.”

Virgil nodded absentmindedly as Philomena walked out the door.

Once Logan could no longer hear her footsteps, his mind wandered to earlier that morning, when he had been in Virgil’s arms. And the two almost kisses.

He didn’t know what he was feeling about the other prince. It felt so similar yet incredibly different than his feelings towards Irwin. Perhaps if he could figure out the differences, he could understand himself better. It felt like such a massive task that seemed so impossible that Logan wasn’t sure if he was up for it.

The galloping of horses made Logan snap his gaze up. His heart fell and thoughts of Irwin disappeared as he stared over at Virgil who stared back at him. Neither of them moved from their places in the bedroom.

It was only when Logan thought that maybe the carriage was halfway down the road that finally Logan stood up, feeling like weights were tied to his feet. He could hear Virgil slowly follow.

Logan thought back to his conversations with Irwin and, with a start, realized that almost 98% of their conversations was Irwin advising Logan. Whether on feelings or just regular advisory. And then Logan tried to think if it had ever been the other way around. He thought long and hard, making his way to the wing where Philomena and Virgil’s rooms were, but drew a blank.

Looking back at their relationship, objectively, it had been rather one-sided. Logan’s palms were beginning to sweat. What did this mean? Was their whole friendship a lie? What did his feelings mean? Did Irwin feel the same? Their whole friendship was based around the fact that Irwin helped him get through life. Did Logan know the intricacies of Irwin’s feelings and opinions like Irwin did him? Did he do that on purpose or was it more of a subconscious thing?

And what about Virgil? Whatever was happening between him and Virgil was definitely not the same as him and Irwin. He barely knew Virgil yet Logan felt a similar warm, fuzzy, feeling that he did with Irwin.

Did Logan even like Irwin? Of course, his feelings seemed to argue. But his mind wasn’t so sure. Was Irwin just a person he depended on to unknot his feelings? It made him uncomfortable admitting it to himself but he couldn’t deny the facts.

Then Logan’s mind went to Virgil and how he didn’t want him to leave. Was that because he depended on him like Irwin or was it because he genuinely liked him?

His heart rate quickened and he could feel his cheeks go hot. Maybe he didn’t have to decipher his feelings in order to answer that question. All he had to do was watch for the signs.

Maybe a part of him still liked Irwin—he was his very first friend, after all—but Virgil was nothing like Irwin. And he seemed to really like him whereas he might have just depended on Irwin because he was more of an advisor.

They were almost to Philomena’s bedroom when Logan barely registered the sound of Virgil’s pace quickening. And Logan’s wrist flamed and tingled when Virgil grabbed it and pulled him around to face him.

“Logan…” Virgil’s eyes were wide and Logan’s brain malfunctioned again and went quiet like earlier that morning in the kitchen. But this time his brain didn’t immediately recover because suddenly they were kissing.

Had he been the first to initiate it or had Virgil? Logan didn’t know, he couldn’t remember. All he knew was that he was kissing Virgil and it was definitely wrong because he was supposed to be marrying his sister but he couldn’t help but feel that this was it. This was how it was supposed to be.

Virgil pulled away after a moment, looking frightened. Logan worriedly wondered if he had initiated the kiss and Virgil didn’t feel the same way about him. But, if that was the case, Virgil would have pulled away as soon as their lips touched.

Virgil blinked and Logan was close to running away and never showing his face again. “Are you…alright?” Virgil asked hesitantly, his eyes searching Logan’s face for something.

Logan held Virgil’s forearms, still slightly in shock—his heart was beating rapidly and his face felt like it was on fire.

“Yes,” Logan finally said, pulling Virgil into a hug. And, after a long moment, Virgil settled his head atop Logan’s.

[etraytin]

Quarantine, Day 77

Very big day today! MIL got her test results in that prove that her mild fever really was just that nasty sinus infection (the fact that the antibiotics made her feel better immediately was a good sign, but the test was nice for corroboration.) Officially Fit for Outside once more, we embarked upon our greatest adventure yet: the shoe store! 

Now you may think that this trip is somewhat frivolous, but if you believe that, you have neither seen nor smelled my child's current pair of shoes. He has had them for six months, which is approximately one geologic age in ten-year-old's-shoes years, and they are basically ruined in every way. My shoes are less visibly ruined, but the sole is completely peeling off one of them and that is less than ideal. My mother in law, of course, had those two falls the other week because she was wearing slippy-soled shoes and has been wearing her sandals ever since despite the rainy weather. And my husband always buys the same pair of black shoes every time he shops, but that doesn't mean he doesn't need to try things on. And carry stuff. At any rate, we all needed shoes very badly, so we have been discussing the big Shoe Store Visit for literally weeks now. 

The trip was complicated from the outset by the fact that kiddo's shoes were not only visibly ruined but still completely soaking wet from yesterday's water adventures. We tried unsuccessfully to tumble dry them, but Nana's high-tech dryer cannot understand the wetness level of shoes and kept thinking it was done. I eventually just made him wear them the way they were and bring along a second pair of socks so he wouldn't be trying on shoes with wet socks. That is rude even in normal times. 

He was pretty excited because this was his first time in a store that was not a convenience store since March. I have gone out shopping an average of once per week, and my husband went to campus until the powers that be allowed him to remote teach from home (more than a week after they sent the students home), but we've kept the kiddo pretty much away from anyplace where he might give or get germs. Some people have to take their kids with them to shop, I figure, so it's better if everyone with the luxury to shop alone does so. He has his own mask with Dr. Seuss characters on it, but he's only really had to wear it when we stop for gas on our long car rides. 

Kiddo was not wild about wearing the mask in the store, not least because the mask is a little bit big for his face and he couldn't look down very well, but he was good about keeping it on. As things open up and we can go out more with him, I'm going to have to see about getting him some masks that fit better. it's possible that if schools reopen on schedule in the fall, he might have to wear a mask for some or all of the school day. If that's the case, it had better be comfortable! Anyway, we went as fast as we could, splitting up so everybody could get shoes with maximum efficiency. I had to measure his feet myself and wound up getting it wrong, but we figured out the correct size by trying on several pairs that did not fit (but remained totally dry!).

He got a cool pair of tennis shoes in size five and a half, (holy puppy-dog feet, Batman!) and a pair of red socks with cats on them. I tried on shoes faster than I ever have before because everybody was waiting on me by the time I finished with the kid, and got myself a comfortable pair of walking shoes with both soles firmly attached. My husband found a two for one deal in the men's department because I have trained him to spot a bargain, coming away not only with his usual plain black shoes, but also black winter boots. I was very proud! My mother in law got a new pair of shoes with much better soles, so overall we came away with all objectives accomplished in only about forty minutes. Nearly everybody in the store was wearing a mask and distancing well, and the fact that it is a massive warehouse-sized store helped. 

So that was our big thing for today, a quarantine milestone! Today's lunch was salsa chicken again because we had lots of leftovers, but I dressed it up by making fresh tortillas. Learning to make pasta has considerably improved my kneading and rolling game since the days when I lived in Laredo and try to make tacos to fit in. While I would not characterize my efforts as round in any form, they were substantially less like pita pockets than the ones I used to make. In Laredo they sell raw corn tortillas in the grocery store so you can cook them yourself at home. I miss that! Dinner was a recipe for "fancy Hamburger Helper" that my husband found in the New York Times, which was good, and the lettuce greens I picked up at the farmer's market this afternoon. Everyone at the farmer's market wore a mask. I read an article that said doing pretty much anything you'd normally do indoors outdoors instead reduces the risk of sickness, so a farmer's market with everybody in masks and the booths 20 feet apart  is basically the shopping ideal. 

Also, if you want to try and make tortillas, they are great quarantine food so long as you have flour. I bought lard specially to make tortillas with, but I am told margarine also works. Lard is cheap and it keeps for a long time, though! You basically whisk together four cups of flour, a half teaspoon of salt and two teaspoons of baking powder, then add two heaping tablespoons of lard and mix it with your hands until the lard is all spread throughout and has changed the consistency of the flour. Then you add a cup and a half of water and knead the resulting dough on a flat surface until it's smooth and stretchy. Then you divide it up into 24 little balls, roll them out individually, and cook them very quickly on a hot skillet, flipping them once each. It turns out that 24 tortillas is Very Many Tortillas for four people, so next time I will halve the recipe, but they were good! 

Also for some reason I spent nearly all day thinking today was Thursday. Eventually time will become real again, but it doesn't seem to be happening anytime soon. Oh and for the record, for the Me keeping score from the future, today is May 27, a Wednesday. Today is notable because it marks 100,000 COVID-19 deaths in the US. We have been in quarantine since the schools closed on March 12, and away from home since May 1. Wow, May went by _really_ fast. 

[lilyvandersteen]

Puppy Eyes Chapter 20

This is little bit of smut, and a whole lot of schmoop! Complete with tiny puppies :-) Enjoy!

Thank you so much to everyone who sends me feedback - you’re wonderful and you spur me on to keep writing :-)

This story is also on AO3 and on Fanfiction.net.

The other parts can be found here: Prologue - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Chapter 18 - Chapter 19

Chapter 20: A Family

When Blaine woke up that Sunday, he spent his first waking moments grinning at the ceiling, reliving the highlights of the day before.

He’d never really gotten the whole ‘big deal’ about sex. During puberty, he’d of course woken up regularly with jizz in his pyjama pants, but he’d never felt the urge to fantasize, or watch porn. When he jacked off, he did so quickly and efficiently, without thinking of anyone in particular.

And then Kurt had come along, and Blaine had started having those dreams. Waking up hard and rubbing against Kurt. And yes, thinking of Kurt whenever he masturbated, however guilty he felt about that.

Suddenly, he found himself wondering what it would feel like, having sex. When he pictured it, he saw himself with Kurt. It made his dick harden instantly, and provided better and longer orgasms than he’d ever had before.

The fantasies were nothing compared to the real thing, though. Wow. Kurt was as new to this as Blaine was, but you’d never be able to tell. Kurt’s every touch set Blaine’s body aflame, and the sounds he made turned Blaine on no end – so sexy!

Blaine let out a happy sigh and slipped out of bed without disturbing Kurt. It was half past five in the morning, but Blaine was wide awake already, as usual. He knew Kurt would be getting up soon, too, to walk his doggy clients. He glanced at his love, hidden under the comforter. A tuft of tousled hair was the only thing visible, and all he could hear was a rhythmic snuffling that proved Kurt was still deeply asleep.

I should let him sleep. We stayed up too late yesterday.

So Blaine took Kurt’s phone with him to the kitchen, and silenced the alarm as soon as it went off.

Blaine dressed quickly, looked for Kurt’s keys and plastic bags for the clean-up, and put leashes on the poodles, who didn’t seem to care at all who took them for a walk as long as they got one.

He led the poodles help him remember where to go to pick up Snowball, Summer and Titus, and then headed to the park with the lot of them.

When he came back with the poodles, he gave them food and water, and then went to the kitchen to prepare breakfast for himself and Kurt.

There wasn’t anything left in the fruit bowl, and there wasn’t much in the pantry or in the fridge, either, but he found all the ingredients for a cheesy Sunday loaf, so he made the dough, kneaded it and left it to rise.

He went to check on Kurt, who was still dead to the world, and decided to walk to his own apartment to go fetch some more groceries to tide them over until Monday. Plus his laptop for all the essays he still had to grade. Thanks to Kurt, he hadn’t lost another week to being a dog, but that didn’t mean he could slack off the whole weekend.

The loaf was nearly done, spreading a delicious smell of melted cheese through the apartment, when Blaine finally heard Kurt stirring.

Blaine filled a mug with coffee and took it to the bedroom.

Kurt was no longer buried under the covers. Now, his entire face was visible, and he was turning this way and then the other.

Not long now until he wakes up…

And yes, a few minutes later, Kurt’s eyes blinked open, and Blaine fell a bit deeper in love still as he looked at his adorable sleep-rumpled angel.

Kurt yawned and stretched, looking so much like a kitten waking up from a nap that it made Blaine smile.

Blaine hastened to offer Kurt coffee, knowing that Kurt wouldn’t be up for conversation until he’d had his daily dose of caffeine.

And yes, as Kurt drank, his half-mast eyes opened fully, and he started questioning Blaine.

Blaine didn’t pay much attention to what Kurt was saying, though, because he found himself distracted. The comforter had slipped off Kurt when he sat up, and now he was sitting there drinking coffee in all his naked glory. No wonder Blaine’s throat went dry and he couldn’t stop staring. Unf.

All too soon, the mug was empty, and Kurt escaped to the bathroom. Blaine took the mug back to the kitchen and checked on the bread. He decided to switch the oven off but leave the loaf in it, and then headed to the bedroom again to air it while they had breakfast.

Before he could open the window, though, he felt Kurt hugging him from behind, his breath hot in Blaine’s ear when he told Blaine off for wearing too many clothes. Well, that was easy to remedy…

Blaine was about to strip when he had an idea. He’d let Kurt take his clothes off. Yes.

Five minutes later, he was so on edge that he rued the thought of giving Kurt the reins. Clearly, his love had a mean streak, to tease him so.

But then Kurt took him in his mouth, and Blaine lost any train of thought and just surrendered to hot wet bliss the likes of which he’d never experienced before. He tipped over the edge embarrassingly fast, but felt so amazing that he didn’t even care. All he thought of was of kissing Kurt, and then paying him back in kind.

Kurt made the most amazing sounds while Blaine worked him over with his hand and his mouth. His back bowed off the bed, and he threw his head back, keening. Blaine couldn’t keep his eyes of Kurt, and felt himself growing hard again. He hollowed his cheeks and took Kurt’s dick a bit deeper, still, and Kurt choked out his name and came all over Blaine’s tongue.

They lay on the bed facing each other and grinning, and Kurt noticed Blaine’s half-hard dick and took it loosely in his fist, which only made it grow, of course.

“You’re insatiable!” Kurt giggled.

Blaine kissed his nose. “Only for you, beautiful.”

Kurt’s stomach growled, and they both laughed.

“Hold that thought,” said Kurt. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve worked up quite an appetite.”

Kurt tore into the pull-apart bread with relish, and told Blaine he’d never eaten anything so delicious.

Blaine laughed at that. “That’s your hunger speaking. But I’m glad you like it, beautiful.”

After their late breakfast, Kurt tugged them to the sofa, and Blaine followed him eagerly, thinking they’d continue where they’d left off, but when he cupped Kurt’s face to kiss him, Kurt took his hands and shook his head.

“No, sweetie. As much as I love kissing you, I know where that’s going to lead us, and I really think we need to talk.”

Blaine’s good mood evaporated in a fraction of a second, and only left dread in its wake.

“You’re… You’re breaking up with me?” he asked, his voice faltering.

Kurt squeezed his hands. “What? No! No, not at all. Why would you think that? No! I just feel like we need to discuss where we stand. As a couple. And what we have in mind. For the future. We need to be on the same page.”

Blaine sat up straight and gave Kurt his full attention. “Okay.”

“So… What are we?” Kurt wanted to know. “Are we boyfriends?”

Blaine nodded and beamed. “Yes.”

Kurt smiled back at him. “I’m just asking because somehow, we’re full-on planning a wedding already. So you still mean to propose to me one of these days? We’re not going to pretend that it happened already and skip that stage?”

Blaine shook his head. “No! No. I… I have plans.”

“Good,” said Kurt. “Don’t make it a big production, please. Don’t break out in song in a restaurant or at school or something. I wouldn’t like that at all. And you could lose your job over it if you did it at school. So… keep it a private moment. Just for us. Okay?”

“Okay,” Blaine promised. That fit his plans perfectly anyway.

“The next thing is, where are we going to live?”

Blaine frowned. “I thought…”

“You thought I’d move in with you permanently?”

Blaine shrugged. “Well… Yes.”

“Hmm.”

“What’s wrong with my apartment?” Blaine asked, puzzled.

“It’s not your apartment that’s the problem here,” Kurt explained. “It’s that I’d feel like a kept man. I don’t want you to be my sugar daddy. I want us to be equals in this relationship.”

Blaine wanted to protest that they were equals, but stopped to think. Yes, Kurt was right.

“Do you want us to look for another place together?” Blaine offered.

Kurt beamed at him. “Yes, please. Though we can wait until I’ve found a job, after graduating, and have saved up some money.”

“Oh, R/GA will want to keep you,” Blaine prophesized. “You’ll see.”

Kurt grinned. “I hope so. I love working there. Okay, next thing we need to discuss: pets and children. Do you want any? And when?”

Blaine exhaled slowly. Wow. Kurt didn’t pull his punches, did he? He brought up the big questions all at once. “Uhm…”

Kurt laughed. “You weren’t expecting me to bring that to the table just yet? But I need to know, sweetie! I can’t marry you without knowing we think alike on those matters. They’re way too important.”

“True.”

“I’ll go first,” Kurt offered. “I’d like to have children one day, but not yet. Not for another ten years or so. I would like to have a dog, though. I’ve spent years walking dogs belonging to other people, and as much as I’ve enjoyed that, I want one of my own. One that I don’t have to bring back after every walk, or say goodbye to when my dog-sitting assignment is over. I want one for keeps.”

Blaine beamed at him. “Same.”

“Any preference?” Kurt asked.

“Mmm…”

“Okay, that’s not so important right now. We can discuss it later. Now… Who do you want to invite to the wedding? I’m graduating in May, so I guess it won’t matter much if you invite your colleagues. Or do you think it could still get you into trouble?”

Blaine shrugged. “The only colleague I want to invite is Paula, and she knows about us. Always has.”

Kurt nodded. “Right. I’d like to invite Maizie and Neil and Elliott. They’re all graduating this year, too, so I don’t think me inviting them will cause any problems. And then there’s Rachel, who used to be my roommate. And Mercedes, my best friend from high school.”

“I’m looking forward to meeting them,” Blaine said.

Kurt took a deep breath. “And I want Trent as my best man. Please. I know he’s your best friend, but he’s been my rock the past year. Seriously. I don’t know what I would have done without him and his pep talks.”

Blaine opened and closed his mouth a few times without any sound coming out.

“Please,” Kurt repeated.

Blaine bit his lip. “Well, I could ask my brother, I guess. Though he’s obnoxious. No. No, I’d better go with Ashton. It’s bad enough that Cooper will come to the wedding and make it all about him again.”

“What?” Kurt laughed. “He wouldn’t!”

“Oh, trust me, he would. It’s Cooper.”

It came out rather bitter, and Blaine looked away, trying to keep his feelings under control.

“Is that why your brother was never there for the holidays?” Kurt asked. “You don’t get along?”

Blaine hesitated. “It was mainly the dog curse. But we don’t get along very well, no.”

When the list of invitees was drawn up, Kurt wanted to know if he could design the invitations.

Blaine smiled. “Sure you can. Knock yourself out!”

That was enough encouragement for Kurt to whip out his sketchbook and start drawing, humming happily.

Blaine took advantage of Kurt’s abstraction to make a few phone calls for his afternoon plans, and then marked essays until it was time to walk the dogs again.

“Beautiful?” Blaine asked, when they’d returned all the dogs to their homes. “Can I take you somewhere?”

Kurt, who was crouching between the two drinking poodles and petting them both, looked around with a sweet smile. “Sure, honey. They’re all set now.”

Once outside, Kurt hooked his arm through Blaine’s. “So where are we going?”

Blaine grinned and tapped Kurt’s nose. “Not telling just yet. You’ll see when we get there.”

Kurt pouted for six blocks, but when he saw they were heading to the Manhattan Animal Care Center, his face lit up. “You want to go pick out a dog?”

Blaine smiled at him. “They took in a pregnant dog a while ago, and now there’s a nest of puppies. They’re not old enough to be adopted yet, but they’ll be looking for a forever home around the time your dog-sitting assignment ends. So I thought we might get acquainted with the puppies, and maybe choose one to adopt.”                       

“Oh my God, yes!”

Kurt skipped up the steps so fast Blaine had to run to catch up with him, and a few minutes later, they were cooing at a proud mama and her four adorable tiny fur-balls. Three of them were dark brown, but the fourth was lighter in colour, with patches and spots. And when it blinked its eyes open as Kurt petted it, they were blue.

“That’s the only girl,” said Eileen, the volunteer who’d accompanied them. “She’s just the sweetest thing.”

“She is!” Kurt agreed, and then he whispered to the pup, “Yes, you are, aren’t you? Such a sweet little darling.”

“She has your eyes,” Blaine pointed out, and Kurt laughed, startling all the pups, who whimpered and squirmed.

“Oh, shhh, sorry, babies,” Kurt comforted them, stroking their backs until they were calm again.

When they left, Kurt told Eileen they’d definitely adopt the girl pup, and maybe one of the boys, too.

She smiled at him. “I’m so glad they’ll have a good home. I can tell that you’re a natural at handling dogs. You’ll have to wait another four weeks, though. We’re not putting them up for adoption until they’re eight weeks old.”

Kurt nodded. “I know. In the meantime, can we come back and visit them?”

“Of course you can!”

On the way back home, Kurt had the hugest smile on his face.

“They’re adorable, aren’t they?” Blaine asked.

“They are,” Kurt agreed. “But it’s more, like, we’re gonna be a family. It’s… yeah. It’s a really good feeling.”

Blaine pulled Kurt close and kissed his temple. “The best.”

K&B

Blaine stayed at the poodles’ apartment with Kurt the next weeks, and as often as they could, they went to visit their dog family at the animal shelter.

They went on dates, too, every weekend. Blaine took Kurt to Alice’s Tea Cup, to the zoo, to the Met, to the ice-skating rink and to a restaurant with a breath-taking view of the Empire State Building. The one day that it stormed too much to go anywhere, they made cupcakes and decorated them. That ended with complete chaos in the kitchen, more icing on the two of them than on the cupcakes, and Kurt collapsing into a giggle fit when Blaine explored all his ticklish places.

Blaine loved how Kurt soaked up every new experience and turned it into inspiration for his designs, and he loved how Kurt noticed and appreciated all the little delights in life. Most of all, he just loved Kurt. It became even harder for him not to follow Kurt around like a puppy in class, and Paula kept telling him to tone down the heart eyes.

When the 14th of February arrived, Blaine once again silenced Kurt’s alarm and walked the dogs in his place. He made Kurt a fruit salad and heart-shaped waffles with whipped cream and hot chocolate with a heart in the foam, and brought it to bed on a tray.

As it was a Friday, they both had class, but they agreed to meet up at the animal shelter in the evening.

Blaine went to the shelter earlier than agreed upon, accompanied by two guys from Stephanotis. Eileen winked at him and whispered, “It’s all arranged. You can borrow Room 206 for your plans. Good luck!”

When Kurt arrived an hour later, the room was transformed into a place straight from a fairy tale. There were green boughs and flowers hanging from the ceiling, interspersed with fairy lights. The men had also built a tiny rock formation with a waterfall, and in the middle of the room was a wrought iron table with matching chairs, and on it two of Blaine’s finest china plates, crystal goblets and silver cutlery. The food was in a picnic basket next to it.

Kurt’s mouth fell open when he saw everything. Then he noticed Blaine, down on one knee and holding two of the puppies on his lap, wearing a pink and a blue bow respectively, and he clapped a hand over his mouth.

“Blaine!”

It came out a little hoarse, and Blaine could see that Kurt was blinking away tears.

“Kurt. My wonderful, beautiful Kurt. I’ve known you for two years now, and every day I fall more and more in love with you. If you’ll let me, I’d like to do so for the rest of my life. I promise to cherish you and believe in you and support you in everything that you do. I promise to listen to you and work with you as team and make you my number one priority. I want us to be a family. With children, one day, yes, but starting with these pups for now. What do you say?”

Kurt, now fully crying, nodded.

Blaine held out the girl pup to him, showing the ring that was tied to her bow. “Will you marry me, please?”

Kurt took the pup in his arms and let out a sound between a laugh and a sob. “Yeah. Yes.”

Blaine beamed at him and pecked him on the lips, deftly undoing the bow and slipping the ring onto Kurt’s finger.

After another quick kiss, Blaine asked, holding out the other pup, who had a key tied to his bow. “And will you move in with me until we find a place of our own?”

Kurt nodded again. “Yes. Yes, of course. Oh, Blaine! This is…”

Blaine carefully put the pups back into their basket, and then gathered Kurt into his arms to kiss him until he stopped crying.

“I’m… not sad!” Kurt clarified between kisses. “Just… overwhelmed. This is… so much.”

“I know, beautiful,” Blaine reassured him. “I know. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

[inthesummerswelter]

recipe for disaster: chapter six

It’s been three days, since he’d rattled the doorknob and she’d hidden away. And, fuck, but Penn feels really miserable. Really sorry.

Not for what she did, no, but rather how she did it.

Bracing her back against the sharp angle of the counter, she lets her forearms rest heavily on the floury surface, her hands dangle over the edge. They float there, trembling just slightly, a testament to how fragile the wrists were that held them back from falling into oblivion. Of course, they’ve got tendons and bones in there, holding fast, and muscles from kneading countless lumps of dough, but still. Still, it feels like the slightest of breezes could cause her to disconnect completely.

But the timer gives a ding! and her philosophy is set back in the pantry for another day.

Penn’s baking off the remainder of the cookie dough that she had made that night – of course, she had refrigerated it as soon as she’d pulled herself out of the tub, so it’s perfectly safe – as a sort of peace-offering, almost.

She feels bad for hurting him, for sending him away when all he wanted to do was simply talk to her.

But some things are not ready to be said. And she’s not ready to hear them.

Honestly, she’s not sure if she’s ever going to be ready.

(Because she has no idea what he could be wanting to say, not at this point. The only situations she can imagine are ones where she ends up getting hurt. He’s as puzzling to her as the Rubik cube her brother keeps on his mantelpiece, always tantalizing her with the opportunity to solve except she never knows how to make the right moves.)

The cookies take about ten minutes or so to cool enough that the molten chocolate doesn’t scorch the tongue – she knows from previous experience that’s a painful occurrence to be avoided at all costs – so she takes the extra time to pop back into her room and glare balefully at her closet. Her array of plain tee-shirts and monochromatic denims and nubby sweaters looks more pitiful than usual, but Penn grabs her least washed-out trousers and nicest jumper and begins to throw them on.

Then, in a fit of pique, she stops with the matchstick-cut denims halfway up her calves and only one arm through the woolen weaving of her jumper.

Why should she be dressing in her relative best to deliver fucking apology biscuits?

Instead, with just about three minutes to spare, Penn’s worst-looking, slouchiest trousers make an appearance, and she’s slung on the cardigan with the mismatched elbow patches over a shirt she’d randomly picked out at a tag sale.

Quickly plating the biscuits – on a plastic dish, so he could clean it and return it if he wished to ever have a reason to see her again or throw it away if he didn’t – she tests one. Strong chocolatey notes. Texture on point: not overly gooey in the middle and not overly crunchy about the edges. Well-balanced flavors with a hint of vanilla.

Or, as Penn likes to call it, success.

She slips on the closest pair of shoes, which happen to be her paint-splattered wellies and nudges the slider door open with her elbow, balancing the plate in her other arm along with a few pieces of misdelivered post.

The mail is so she has a half-hearted excuse as to why she’s going over to his flat, if she ends up chickening out at the last second. But, to be perfectly honest with herself, two measly pieces of post is not going to compensate for a whole platter of fresh biscuits. He’s going to know – some way, somehow – that something’s up.

Penn’s made it about halfway across the terrace by now, and her heart’s racing with pent-up anxiety. Pausing next to final glass wall of her greenhouse, she leans against it for a second, catching her breath and rallying herself.

(For some reason, she’s dreading this more than the five stitches she had to get when she nearly sliced off her pinky finger three years ago.)

Quickly, she lets her breath go in a deep whoosh and makes to push off the glass – gently of course, those big panes were fucking expensive – to finish the rest of her march.

However, there’s a thump on the glass.

Her head snaps around just in time to see what looks like a clump of dirt leave a smear on the fogged-up glass as it slides down the pane.

What?

The first conclusion she comes to is that one of the dogs had managed to worm their way in there and had started digging around. But that was impossible, as she knows she had pushed both of them back inside the flat with her foot before shutting and locking the slider door behind her.

Other possibilities fly through her head – a squirrel, a pigeon, a whole pack of rabid raccoons – as she slowly makes her way around to the door to the greenhouse, carefully undoing the latch with one hand.

Nothing could have prepared her for this sight.

“A-Ash?” she says, voice coming out a bit strangled. “Um, what…what exactly are you doing?”

He’s standing there, knee-deep in the middle of her bean trellises, streaks of dirt sitting atop his cheekbones like war paint and hands full of tiny green sprouts, and he’s just got this look on his face.

Like he wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

Penn’s just caught him in the act, bent in two with his ridiculously long fingers poised around the stem of a plant completely lacking any of the characteristics of a runner bean.

“Oh! Oh, oh my God, Penn, I didn’t – I’m so sorry, I just thought –”

Her vision’s getting blurry now.

“Were you, were you weeding?”

Now he’s nodding and gesturing and the little bunches of clover clenched in his fists are getting tossed and flung about with his desperation to explain.

“I mean, you were so angry and I didn’t want – I never wanted to hurt you ever and I thought I could apologize with this and oh my God, I’m embarrassing myself, I’ll just shut up now and leave and...,” he pauses, winded a bit.

She can’t take much more of this, she thinks, as she slumps down, completely overwhelmed by a sudden rush gratitude towards this boy standing in front of her. She’s not worthy of him and his big heart. He just cares too much, so much that she can’t even comprehend it.

“Penn! Penn, are you okay?!” he says now, kneeling in front of her, careful to not crush any of the new growth under his legs.

She can’t stop the tears from running through the hands she’s got cupped around her face. The plate sits on the ground beside her, the mail similarly tossed aside, and Penn’s laughing and crying all at once, trying to choke out all the words that weren’t coming easily earlier.

“I didn’t – I wasn’t angry at you…well, I was, that’s a lie – but you’re weeding for me and all I did was bake you apology biscuits.”

His hands come up to push hers away and tilt her face up so she’s looking into confused, gold-flecked hazel eyes.

There’s a touch of worry in his voice besides the confusion, too, as he says, “…You baked me biscuits?”

Penn’s finding this situation more hilarious and ludicrous by growing increments, instead of realizing and reacting to the fact that their faces are scant centimetres apart. She begins to wipe at the corners of her eyes with the backs of her wrists, giggling to herself all the while.

“I mean, how do you even know what ones to pull?”

“Looked it up,” he says, straight-faced and nonchalant, more interested in swiping away the rest of her tears with the cuff of his sleeve. “They’ve got helpful weed identification guides all over the place. Are you okay? You don’t usually cry. In fact, I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you cry in the two whole years that I’ve known you.”

Mentally, she does some calculations before saying, “I haven’t cried in… about ninety-three days.”

“That’s insane,” he mutters, abandoning his sleeve and rubbing the pad of his thumb carefully against her jawline, and it’s now that their proximity is registering. It’s now that her breath hitches, and she can see his head start to tilt just slightly to the left as her eyelids begin to flutter and –

It’s now that her mobile chimes out loudly from her pocket.

Penn flies backwards, narrowly missing sitting right on the untouched plate of biscuits, stammering, “It might be Gran, I really should get this.”

He’s not even looking at her now, leaning back in the soil and turned away with one hand covering his face while the other motions to her to pick up the call.

“Just answer it, okay?”

And, with a sudden surge of self-loathing, Penn realizes how utterly disgusted he must be at her wave of pathetic emotion, her soppy tears. Just because he weeded her fucking greenhouse. She misses the tinge of pink staining the tips of his ears as she pulls the mobile from her back pocket.

Thumbing the lock on her phone half-heartedly, she answers without checking the number.

“Hello?”

“…Penn? Is this you? Did I get the number right?”

She almost drops the mobile.

“Zayn?!”

  He watches her, the look of excitement and wonder and longing that crosses her face when she says this bloke’s name.

Sounds like a proper prick though.

Zayn.

Pretentious.

(Later, in a few weeks, she’ll inform him pompously that it’s cultural. Middle Eastern. Okay. Whatever.)

Penn’s got a smile, great big and spreading across her face, and the rapid-fire way she’s responding and laughing throughout this conversation they’re having leaves Ashton with a strange feeling settling in his stomach.

Snapped out of his reverie with a plastic plate shoved into his hands, he looks up as Penn mouths an excuse and another apology before she bursts out of the greenhouse, dashing absurdly fast for a person in wellies.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

That inspirational pep talk didn’t help for shit.

Ashton’s eye gets caught by a letter lying next to the slightly ajar door, thick and yellowish, with spindly purple cursive adorning the front, laying on top of a travel brochure.

It’s addressed to him.

From Penn’s gran.

Picking it up, he thumbs the corner thoughtfully, before setting it atop the plate of biscuits and trudging out of the greenhouse and back to his flat.

A hot shower seems the right move now, with maybe some hot chocolate and a few of Penn’s biscuits as he reads over this letter.

Yeah. Just what the doctor ordered.

[hismissharley13]

Returning

Request for some fluff with our favourite Jewish baker...

A/N:

Hope you all like it as much as I enjoyed writing it...I’m so chuffed that you chose to ask me! ~ Please let me know what you all think...still a bit unsure about my fluff-game!

You’re working away at the table, flour all over the place as you crimp the edge of the last pie.  Pushing your hair from your forehead with the back of your hand, you step back to survey the afternoon’s work.  You hated when Alfie was away, it always seemed to bring back the memories of his long absence during the war.  Losing your brother in the gang warfare had only made things harder of late, you feel the seemingly ever-present tears pricking your eyes. You blink them away angrily, sniffing a deep breath in and letting it go.

You gather the pies and place them in the cool pantry, covering them with a cloth.  Pausing only to nudge Cyril gently out of the way with your foot, you collect some ingredients together and plonk them on the table.. In your haste, you misplace the bag of bread flour and it tips.  You grab at the falling bag and manage to save most of it, though you inadvertently tip a healthy dose over the poor dog’s head.  He snorts, shaking flour everywhere,

“Awh shit! Cyril,” you complain.  He wags his tail happily at the sound of his name.  You sigh, picking up the bowl of offcuts from the pie-meat and place it on the floor.  You rinse your hands and begin to make the bread.

As you stretch and knead the dough, you hyper-focus on the way it acts in your fingers, stretching into fibres and melding into itself as you roll your palms through, folding and pushing in flowing movements.  You fail to notice the door open, starting as you hear Alfie’s booming voice,

“Fuckin’ ‘ell, lad, your ma been tryna bake again eh?  You look like you’ve had a face full of Tokyo, my boy!” chuckling, he walks over to you in the kitchen.  You keep your eyes on the dough, not wanting him to see that you are upset.

“Keepin’ busy, eh love?” Alfie asks, resting his large hands on your hips as he nuzzles into your shoulder. He takes a deep breath in, savouring your scent, feeling truly at home.  “You only usually get this creative when somefink’s up.  What’s botherin’ ya, my queen?” he punctuates his question by pressing his lips to your neck.

“Nothing, nothing. Just fancied a bit of kitchen time,”

“Yeah, ok, right,” he mumbles sceptically, “Well, about that.  You do know that the flour is supposed to go into the food, not all over the fuckin’ place, yeah?”

“The bag slipped,”

“Also, right, when did you decide to start makin’ bread?  That’s my job,” he runs his rough hands down the soft skin of your forearms, “and you’re fuckin’ hopeless at kneadin, love,”

“Well, if you think you can do better, why don’t you teach me, hmm?”

“Course I know better, I’m a fuckin baker ain’t I?” his hands find yours, guiding your movements rhythmically, “look, like this, yeah?  Now it ‘as to rest, doesn’t it, cos we don’t want fuckin chewy bread.  No, fuckin’ terrible,” he explains, rolling the dough into a ball and throwing it into the mixing bowl, “now how’s about we clean up this disaster area?”

The pair of you busy yourselves, tidying and washing the kitchen, moving around eachother in sync. Every time Alfie passes you, he moves you by grasping your waist, allowing his hands to linger.  You feel your earlier sorrow begin to abate at his contact, the heat from his touch warming your soul piece by piece.

When the last traces of flour are all but gone, Alfie grabs you to him, a hand on your cheek and his eyes on yours,

“I know you’ve been upset, especially while I’ve been away.  I’m sorry I had to leave you so soon after it all,” he admits gruffly,

“It’s fine, Alf,”

“No, it’s bloody well not. I should be ‘ere, spending time with you, lookin’ after my princess.  I’m sorry love,” he caresses your cheek with his thumb and kisses you, your lips finding his beneath the scratchy hair.  You grab handfuls of his shirt in your fists as he pulls your body to his with his hand splayed at the small of your back, you mould yourself to him, sinking into his embrace.

When you both move apart, you’re slightly breathless.  God you had missed him so much this past fortnight.  You wind your hands up the taught muscles of his broad back and nuzzle your face into his chest.  He runs a hand across your shoulders, feeling the tension as he rests his chin on your head. You feel rather than hear his voice,

“I know what you need. You need lookin’ after.  A nice bath and a massage, yeah?”

You lift your head, looking up at him, doe-eyed.  He doesn’t wait for an answer before lifting you easily in his broad arms, causing you to gasp in shock,

“Alfie! I can walk!”

“Nope, categorical.  I’ve neglected you, so now I’m makin’ up for it. No arguments, right?”

He carries you to the bedroom, laying you on the bed with another sweet kiss before busying himself to build up the fire in the fireplace, filling the bath and testing the water. He walks back over to you, rolling his sleeves to his elbows, worshipping you with his gaze.

“Come on love, off with the clothes then,”

He allows you to undress, leading you by the hand to the bath.  You notice he has poured in some of your favourite patchouli oil to scent the water.  He bathes you slowly and adoringly, crooning to you in Hebrew.  You close your eyes, relishing the attention and the serenity that his low voice brings.  He twirls your hair loosely up on your head and pins it lightly out of the way as he coaxes you out of the rapidly cooling water,

“Let’s not have you catching a chill, yeah? Go on and lie down on the bed,” he shoos you off as he carries the bath out of the room.  He takes off his shirt as he returns, a small bottle of oil in his hand.  He drips a little of the liquid onto his palm and rubs his hands together to spread it.  He takes one of your hands in his and works his fingers, paying attention to each of your digits, your palm, the back of your hand.  He spreads the oil, working it in to your skin gently as he stretches and eases each muscle in turn, up your arm to your shoulder.  He repeats the efforts on the other arm before reaching your shoulders.  His hot hands bring your blood to the surface of your skin, melting the tension and knots away under his expert touch.  You feel your whole body relaxing as you listen to Alfie’s even breaths.  He trails kisses up your legs and across your back before rolling you over to lie on your back.  You allow a lazy smile to curve your lips as he tucks you into the crook of his arm.  He dispenses with his trousers and pulls you close to him.  Trailing his fingers lightly over your belly, he showers you with small, light kisses across your temple, forehead and cheek.

“Mmm, Alfie love,” you groan quietly,

“What, my queen?” he says, continuing to press kisses now along your collarbone.

“I might consider letting you go away again in the future if I get this kind of treatment when you come back,”

“Well, got a lot of time to make up for, ain’t I? Worth every second, you are,”

You roll towards him, hooking your leg over his hip.  His hand automatically moves to your knee and strokes tingles up your thigh.  You take the initiative and move to straddle his waist. You run your hands over the carved marble of his chest, tracing the patterns of his tattoos.  He rests his hands on your hips and looks up at you, quirking an eyebrow,

“God, I’ve missed you, Alfie Solomons,” you confess, leaning down to kiss him.  You feel his body respond to your new position and you grind experimentally,

“Fuck, love! Keep doin’ that and this evening is gonna get a whole lot less relaxin’ after all that hard work,”

You smirk mischievously, scooting back slightly to feel his arousal.  He rolls his eyes and sits up to meet you, eyes darkening with lust as he kisses you hard, pushing his tongue into your mouth.  You moan into him-his hands were not the only thing you had missed recently.

[livinglikearoyal]

BTS Drabble/Imagine: We Did That! (Jungkook)

Member: Jungkook

Prompt(s): “Could you pretty please write a scenario where you're at a Christmas party with the boys and you end up under the mistletoe with Jungkook? Fluffy please?”

Requested by: skylions-den

Summary: You visit the boys for a Christmas dinner and gift exchange. What gifts will you receive? 

The snow crunches as you meander down the sidewalk. You gaze around at all of the twinkling lights through the burst of fog created by your breathing. Although you can’t find the source, you swear you can hear voices singing tunes that most people only listen to for a month out of the year. You are not most people.

Christmas! The best time of year! Family, friends, gifts, food, snow, lights, the music….it is all so magical!

You are facing the door marking your destination before you even realize it. Re-adjusting the large bag full of gifts on your shoulder, you extend your hand to ring the doorbell. Not once, not twice, not three times….but to the tune of “Jingle Bells”.

The door swings open to release a roaring “Hey!” in time with the bell from the interior of the home. A beaming Hoseok and Jimin are standing in the foyer with faces flushed and chests rising and falling quicker than normal indicating that they raced to the door. Their hands are in the air like they have just finished a Broadway performance.

“Y/N! Come in!” Hoseok cheers, ushering you in the door and taking the bag from your shoulder and to the tree.

Taking over Jimin helps you remove and hang your coat. “Merry Christmas, Y/N! You must be freezing! Let’s get away from the door.” He loops your hand around his elbow and ushers you to the kitchen.

The journey to the kitchen isn’t a long distance, but in the few moments that it takes, you notice the effort that the boys have put into decorating. Lights are hanging from pretty much any surface that seems to have had a spare nail or edge to dangle them from. The Christmas tree is decked out in enough lights to be a fire hazard and ornaments precariously hanging at the edges of the branches, especially considering that the entire tree seems to have a tilt to it. A display of assorted stockings is hanging on the wall that you are walking along: none of them have names, but you can tell which stocking belongs to which occupant of the house.

When you reach the kitchen, you become even more impressed. Spread across the counters is the widest array of holiday foods you’ve ever seen in one place. Cookies, pies, casseroles, fruits and veggies, three different kinds of meat already prepared to be eaten, stuffing, and numerous containers and pots with lids that are surely holding just as much deliciousness as the foods you can identify.

In the center of it all is Jin, elbows deep in flour.

“Jin! This looks amazing!” You exclaim, giving him a back hug as he continues to knead the dough he is working with. “You didn’t need to do all of this! We’ll be eating for weeks!”

His shoulders shake at your attempt of a joke. “Nah, Y/N, it was nothing. This will all be gone tonight anyway. You’ve seen the way these savages put away food...we’ll be lucky to have leftovers!”

“Anything I can do to help you?” you ask, taking another look around the kitchen.

“You’re our guest! You don’t have to help!”

“Jin, I’m here more than my own place most of the time. Let me help.”

It’s true. Whenever the boys aren’t traveling, you like to spend as much time as possible with them. They are like your family and you are theirs. It isn’t unheard of for you to spend days at a time here, soaking up the late night shenanigans and hanging around in the day to see how you can help your boys relax and enjoy their precious downtime.

“Alright, you can frost the cookies. You shouldn’t be able to mess that up.” He winks. “The frosting is on the counter over there.”

Grabbing a knife, you make your way to the cookies. You spot a nearby stick of butter that is ready to be used for rolls and such, deciding to have a go at Jin. “This doesn’t seem like enough, Jin?” You say in the most concerned voice you could while acting like you were spreading the butter over the sugar cookies even though the knife you have is clean of any spread.

“Y/N! Stop! That is butter!”

You turn to face him, presenting the bare cookie and knife to him. “I know.” You return his earlier wink.

“Aye, Y/N. Between you and the guys, I’m not sure who is going to give me my first grey hair.”

“I think the hairstylists will beat all of us to that one, Jin.” You joke, turning back and actually beginning to frost the cookies.

Jin laughs, watching you for a moment to ensure that you do use the frosting and not the butter, before returning to his task.

You’re in the middle of putting a red nose on your final reindeer cookie when you find you can no longer see what you’re doing. Your eyes have been covered by a pair of warm hands. You can feel the warmth of the hands’ owner behind you.

“Guess who?” A melodic voice whispers in your ear. You can tell he is trying to change his voice so you guess incorrectly.

“Merry Christmas, Tae.” You laugh, setting the frosting down and giving him a hug.

“What gave me away?”

“A good detective never shares their methods.” You send him a wink, earning a boxy grin in response.

“Five minutes until we eat! You better be clean and ready to fill your plates or you’re going to be shut outside to fend for yourselves like the ruffians you are!” Jin hollers over his shoulder, causing sounds of excitement and sarcastic comments to sound from around the house. Taehyung scurries out of the kitchen to do who knows what while you help Jin make the final preparations in the kitchen.

“I’m not a dog.”

“A ruffian isn’t a dog, JK.”

“Maybe we should shut him outside instead.”

“Yoongi…”

“I’m kidding.”

“No, you weren’t.”

“Aye, get out of the way! I need to wash my hands!”

“I get the chair by the meat!”

“Can we have dessert first?”

The voices are getting closer as Jin takes off the apron he was wearing and smiles around at the spread.

Namjoon walks into the kitchen, looking behind him as he does. “Has anyone heard from Y/N yet? She said she was going to be here.” He directs the question at Yoongi, who is walking right behind him. Yoongi looks past him, giving you a small grin.

“I haven’t heard from her yet, but I’ve seen her.”

“Where?” Namjoon stops, looking at Yoongi. You shake your head. For a genius, this kid can be pretty dense sometimes. You like to say it is because he doesn’t have room in that brain of his for the more frivolous information.

Yoongi simply walks past him, bringing you into a quick hug.

“Y/N!” Namjoon exclaims, coming over to give you a bear hug of his own. “When did you get here?”

“A while ago. I’ve been helping Jin in the kitchen.” You smile up at the leader.

“Better you than me.” He jokes.

The others file into the kitchen within the next few minutes. They begin filling their plates before heading to the table. You end up in line behind Jungkook, who just entered the room.

“How are you, Jungkook?”

“I’m good, Y/N.” He says without looking at you, eyes scanning the food. “You?”

“I’m happy to be here.”

He turns around to look at you. “I’m happy you’re here, too.” He gives you a shy smile before grabbing a plate and spooning food onto it.

At the table, you end up between Jin and Yoongi. Hoseok and Jimin were the last ones to the table so they were the furthest from you. Jungkook is across from you. You join in the conversations as much as you can, including talking with Yoongi about his newest tracks, creating corny jokes with Jin, and discussing your latest read with Namjoon. Jungkook stays pretty quiet throughout the dinner, just looking around and seemingly preferring to be an observer than a participant. Your feet do touch a few times under the table, to which he blushes or bows his head slightly. He is shifting in his seat quite a bit too, something unusual for him. You’ve sat across from him at this very table countless times and you have never seen him so...restless. In fact, he seems very much in his own head. You are just about to say something when Yoongi beats you to the punch.

“Jungkook-ah, sit still,” Yoongi draws. “You’re making me exhausted just watching you.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung chimes in, “You’ve been pretty quiet too.”

“I wonder why?” Jimin and Jin share a look that shows you that they know something you don’t. Jungkook’s eyes widen as the color seems to simultaneously drain from his face but rush to his cheeks.

“I’m fine, guys.” He says tensely, trying to speak with his eyes.

“Maybe you should make your move, JK.” Hoseok says under his breath, quiet enough that he thinks only Jungkook could hear it, but it was definitely loud enough for the entire table to hear.

“Hobi!” Jungkook looks at him shocked.

“What, maybe you should move. You don’t look comfortable in that chair.” Hoseok responds, lips curling up at the sides.

“I’m fine,” Jungkook says one last time.

The table is silent for a few minutes. You have no idea what just happened, but weird would be an understatement. Glancing around the room, you take a glimpse out the window.

“It’s snowing!”

“It is winter, Y/N. That tends to happen.”

“Snowball fight?” Taehyung suggests.

Fifteen minutes later you find yourself outside, staring down Namjoon, Jin, Hoseok, and Taehyung. The 8 of you had split into two teams, set the boundaries, and started the timer (2 minutes) to the beginning of the fight. You, Jimin, Yoongi, and Jungkook all scurry behind a large bush and begin making as many snowballs as you can.

“I say we break into pairs,” Jimin suggests.

“Divide and conquer. I like it.” Yoongi adds.

“I’m in.” You continue to form snowballs and add them to the pile.

“Good idea!” Jungkook adds.

“Jimin, you’re with me.” Yoongi says,  grabbing an armful of snowballs and taking off around the back of the building.

“Got it!” Jimin also grabs his ammunition, sends the two of you a smile, and takes off.

“GO!” You hear being shouted from a few yards away. It’s on.

You and Jungkook make a good team. You take turns being the snowball thrower and former. You have to change locations several times, always laughing the entire way to your new “hideout”. Jungkook has a look of determination on his face, trying to protect the two of you from enemy fire, but he is grinning from ear to ear the entire time. This is your Jungkook.

When time is called the 8 of you meet up in front of the house again. You all should be freezing, but the adrenaline from the game is keeping you warm. Your hair is soaked from the snowballs, cheeks and noses are rosy, gloves are wet, feet are cold from snow getting down into your snow boots.

“Let’s get inside and changed,” Namjoon says, placing his hand on Jin’s shoulder.

Once in the warmth of the home, you realize just how cold you are. The boys all return to their respective rooms as soon as they enter. Jungkook is the last one in the door and looks around. All he sees is you shivering in the foyer.

“You don’t have any clothes to change into, do you?”

You shake your head.

“Come with me,” he says. “I’ll get you some.”

You follow him to his room but stay outside because he shares it with Taehyung, who is probably changing. He returns with a hoodie, sweatpants, and socks.

“Thanks.” You say, taking the offering.

“No problem. See you in a bit.” He shuts the door without even looking at you.

After changing in the bathroom, you make your way to the kitchen. No one is in there yet, but you know you want a warm drink. You move to the stove to put on a kettle for tea and start warming some milk for hot chocolate. Once it is ready, you fill up cups for each of the boys.

You are about to make your way back to the table to grab your cup when you run right into Jungkook in the doorway. He grabs your waist to help the two of you keep your balance. As you look up, you spot something you hadn’t seen earlier.

Mistletoe. Hanging in the kitchen doorway.

“You guys really went all out for Christmas didn’t you?” You whisper as Jungkook realizes what you’re looking at.

“Y/N, I swear I didn’t…”

He is silenced by you bringing your lips to his in a chaste kiss. You pull back, watching his reaction. He is standing there, lashes lying against his cheeks, lips puckered, bottom lip sticking out slightly, hands loose on your hips. He slowly opens his eyes, looking at you questioningly. His fingers play with the hem of your, his, hoodie.

“Kookie, I…”

His grip on your hip tightens as he pulls you in for a proper kiss. He takes advantage of your gasp of surprise to deepen the kiss immediately. The two of you are momentarily lost in your own world, wrapped up in each other.

“Finally!”

“There you go Kookie!”

“Y/N and Kookie, standing in front of me, K-I-S-S-I-N-G…”

“Ugh, this is too cute.”

“I did that!”

“My babes are growing up!”

You hide your face in Jungkook’s shoulder as you hear the comments from the peanut gallery. He does the same to you, hiding his blush from the boys.

Someone starts a slow clap.

“Oh my god, you guys! Go away!” You say frustratedly, waving them away.

“Yes, your highness.”

“It was just getting good though!”

“Gladly. This is too sweet for me.”

“I did that!”

“Come on, guys.” Namjoon ushers the boys from the room after they grab their drinks, smiling the entire way. Hoseok and Jimin share a high five before turning the corner.

Turning back to Jungkook, you smile shyly.

“Thank you for the clothes.” You say, not sure of how to approach this situation so you avoid it entirely.

“They look better on you. You can keep them.” He smiles.

You stand in the doorway for a few seconds, fiddling with Jungkook’s hoodie strings while his thumbs rub soothing circles onto your back.

“Y/N.”

“Yeah?”

“We’re still under the mistletoe.”

“And?”

“I never want to move.” He leans to capture your lips in your third kiss.

“Hey, lovebirds! Time to open gifts! Get your awkward booties out here!”

“Tae, let them be!”

“Did you just say booties?”

“Since when does Kookie have game?”

“We did that!”

You and Jungkook break apart laughing. He flashes you his winning smile that makes his nose crinkle and laces his fingers in yours.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.” He says as he walks with you down the short hallway. “I can’t wait until you see your gift!”

“I think I already got the most perfect gift.”

His smile becomes impossibly larger.

“So cheesy!” You hear from the living room.

“Stop throwing a feta!”

The two of you enter the living room, greeted by a resounding groan and the infamous windshield wiper laughter.

“Merry Christmas.” You whisper to yourself.

A/N: I’m back! I’m on winter break! More writing is on its way over the next couple of weeks! I had to have the boys teasing JK in this one...and helping him out. I know it isn’t JK focused for a bit, but I hope that is okay! Super cheesy and so very much cliche...but it is that time of year! I can just imagine a Christmas with these 7 goons being chaotic and hilarious. Merry Christmas, lovelies! 🎄  

Ask ● Master List ● WIP

[augustawren]

A Candle in the Dark Pt. 1

Characters: Wren and her memories (her memoir)

Universe: Canon memories, Originally written for Broken/Fang AU

~Trigger warnings for CSA and violence~

A Candle in the Dark

(In Elven): For you I cry, I bleed, I fight. For you I die a thousand deaths. I am reborn. Your heart it beats in me, love everlasting. For you I laugh, I breathe, I live.

Part 1

You were forever curious. You were joyful and happy and full of laughter. And you were loved, I promise you, you were loved. (letters from my mother)

This story starts before my memory begins. Many of you know the tale already, or at least some version of it. A halfling child, taken in the dead of night, stolen away from her home. A happy accident for my captors, who never meant to take a prisoner. They happened upon a child, a toddler with a penchant for climbing, who had snuck from her house to chase fireflies and look at the stars. I can only imagine that they jumped at a chance to please their master.

I had a mother. A father. A sister. I spoke with a lisp and played dolls. We helped my mother knead dough, getting sticky and covered in flour, laughing until we cried. I pretended my bed was a pirate ship that I sailed with my sister until we were rocked to sleep by the tide of our imagined ocean. I danced and sang and the only pain I ever knew was from a scraped knee.

Loved completely and fully by my family, the name I knew back then, was Bug.

I know little of my first years in the factory, only that somehow, I became the prize. Put a child to work, even one as young as me, teach her that it's all she's good for, and you'll create the perfect worker; devoid of hopes or dreams. My first memories are fuzzy, wrapped in a shroud of misery and horror. Beatings, whippings, starvation, watching the children around me die like dogs in the street. Blood, blood, so much blood. Being thrown a scrub brush and told to clean it up. And the river. The ever rushing river, it’s roar penetrating our nightmares. It was a promise. A whisper of what was to come, what would happen to us all. We would die gasping as the water consumed us, the relentless wheel tearing our bodies to pieces, our screams silenced as water filled our lungs.

Interspersed with each act of cruelty, was the kindness, the tenderness, from the monster who ran it all. Fang. A name that resonates deep in the bones of every person in Dolbry. Fang. A name used to strike fear into the hearts of children. Fang, who held me on his lap, smoothed back my hair while I cried in terror, murmuring that he loved me. I don't know when I became his sexual plaything, the memories of that remained locked away deep inside until many years later. None of us were clean, but I was the dirtiest of us all, crawling through vents too small even for the other children, to try and hide, hoping that my filth would protect me, that he wouldn’t want me. But it didn’t matter what I looked like, he would just bathe me, caressing my skin, running his fingers down, over the hardened scars and open wounds on my back. Down. Down, down, down, into the water. I’d learned long before not to resist. I would return to the other children, washed and smelling of soaps and candy, but I never felt clean. Their resentment over my special treatment was clear on their faces, and I let it grow, festering, welcoming it. They could never hate me as much as I hated myself.

He carried me around like a doll, petting me, teaching me things no child should know how to do, showing me things no child should have to see.

Back then, the only name I knew, was Rat.

The factory grew as I grew, emerging from its infancy to become a looming shadow across the city. Food and shelter were promised to street children and the children of poor families. A way for them to help their loved ones, to ease their burden. This rumor spread like wildfire, their aching bellies driving children right into Fang’s hands. I have no idea how old I was. Old enough that the memory stuck. The memory of the first time I saw him. A grimey little boy of ten or eleven. Dirty red hair, gangly arms and legs. I try and think now what it was about him. Was it the way his eyes still held hope? Or the smile that he gave me even as he walked through the doors to his doom? If I could go back, to somehow warn him, to save him from the agony that stretched before him, I wonder if I would, or if I would selfishly cling to the only brightness in the dark.

His name was Jamie, and he took to me instantly. It was in his nature to reach out to the broken, the wounded, the helpless. He’d spent his childhood nursing birds with broken wings or rescuing stray cats and dogs from street children. I was the smallest, and isolated from the bonds the other children desperately tried to form with each other. I’ll never know what it was that drew us together, be it dumb luck, chemistry, or divine intervention. Somehow, we became one.

Stripped of his name the same way I had been, through brutal whippings and beatings, he became no one in a sea of no ones. Our names became our identifying features, what we looked like or what our specialty was. Blue. Scab. Freckles. Spanner. Cherry. Boiler. I worked with the widgets, the parts of the machines that required the most care. They held it all together; intricate parts deep inside the belly of the Meckana that required small and dextrous hands, darting between the gnawing jaws of gears and metal. And so I gave him his name, a piece of our bond to remember, even after I was taken by the inevitable death that we knew was coming for us all. Widget.

It must have been solely through Fang’s force of will that I survived the years before Widget. Though the years after he came were still bad, worse in some ways now that Fang had us to use against each other, our friendship was a constant that I could never have made it through without. We clung to each other for dear life. Widge and Rat. Together forever. No matter what. He took beatings for me, and I for him. He stuck up for me, Widget beat against the door when Fang would take me into his office to use for his sick pleasure. Widget showed me the only love and kindness I had ever known, though neither of us would have used the word ‘love’. It was a word only used with Fang, who made us say we loved him over and over until even the mention of love was enough to make us flinch, our stomachs clenching in dread. Through Widget, I learned about the outside world. I learned the names of animals, especially of the birds that would sometimes make it into the factory, only to perish from exhaustion as they tried to find a way out. There was only one way out, and we all knew it. Some days we longed for it. The sweet call of death just out of reach. I learned from Widget about hope and generosity, just from watching him. He tended to other kids, he broke up fights, he picked up the slack when one of us was injured and terrified one of the foremen would notice the decrease in production. I began to put my own skills for climbing and hiding towards a purpose. Stealing food, medicine, anything I could get my hands on to try and improve the lives of the children around me. He never asked me to, never told me to directly, but as I look back, it’s obvious I was changing just from being around him. He was good for me. And I think I was good for him. We were two halves of the same whole. Inseparable. We slept in each other’s arms, carved out a hiding place where we could talk and play grim versions of children’s games. The world was just a little more bearable, as long as we had each other.

And then suddenly, we didn’t.

Years had passed, I was roughly the same age Widget had been when he’d first arrived, while he was just pushing into an even gangly-er pre-teenage phase. This day, more than any other, sticks in my mind like a thorn too deep to remove. Fang had taken me to his office, the overseers beating Widget into near unconsciousness for trying to stop him. Fang was in a foul mood, and dropped all pretense of tenderness. I’ve tried to forget the sounds of my own screams from that night, but they’re as clear to me now as if they had just passed my lips. When he’d finished with me, he threw me to the floor like a discarded rag, blood streaked down my legs. Then he started beating me as he never had before, flying into a rage. By the time he was finished, I was broken, in mind, body, and soul. I remember feeling as if a white hot poker had been thrust inside my very being, burning away any trace of who I had been. But what remained, when stripped of myself, was a vicious animal. When he picked me up to take me into his arms and start the whole thing over again, I did as any trapped animal would do. I fought. I fought for the first time that I could ever remember. I fought to live, to be free. When the knife appeared in his hand, it only spurred me on, thrashing and scratching and tearing at him. I still don’t know if he meant to cut my face or my throat. I remember hitting his arm just as the knife was coming down, though if I managed to change his course, it was merely by chance. Whatever his intention, the cold metal slicing open my face was enough to stop my frenzy. He dropped me, and I can still taste the metallic tang of the blood, can still see the way it flowed from my mouth, leaving pools on the floor in front of me as I tried to crawl away. He grabbed me by the hair, turned white from fear or so the story goes, and dragged me to a closet. The darkness enveloped me then, and as I choked on my own blood, I knew my release would come soon.

What I got instead, was an angel.

I have flashes of memory of the first time I saw the angel, though it’s mostly a haze of pain. It felt as if I’d been torn inside out, like every bone in my body had been broken, and then I’d been cut in half. But the arms that carried me were strong and gentle. I looked up to see a moonlit halo around the most beautiful face I’d ever seen. Eyes blue as ice, though they blazed like torches, skin pale and glowing in the night. Long black hair whipped around as the angel ran along rooftops, leaping across gaps, never losing the hold on me. The features on the face, while beautiful, were set in a fierce and determined scowl. It was a look to strike fear into anyone that beheld this resplendent glory.

I was terrified and awed all at the same time, and passed out. I faded in and out of a dreamy semi-consciousness for I don’t know how long, but I would always see the angel’s face, soft and tender, or hear the angel’s song, the unfamiliar language so sweet to my ears. When I truly awoke, however, it was to pain, as long, deft fingers stitched up my shredded face. It was the first time I truly saw the angel. And realized that he was just a man. An elf; tall and regal, certainly. Handsome, most definitely. But an angel he was not. Which meant I was alive.

And so starts the story of Wren.