#i risked falling so much today i miss understood several things and more

[the---hermit]

22|09|2023

Happy hobbit day!! Today I have been pretty tired. I slept very well, but my I guess having to commute is draning a lot of energy from me. I did struggle a bit to stay focused in class, but we touched interesting subjects, and I can confirm I like the way this professor carries the lectures. He did finish a bit later than usual which for me meant missing my bus and having to wait an additional 50 minutes. I phoned my mom to have a chat and pass the time and walked around, and I ended up buying this amazing ghost mug. It's smaller than what I would normally go for, but it's a great addition to my small collection. When I got home I also went to my herbalitst's shop to get a couple of teas i had run out of (and there of course I saw a bunch of other beautiful mugs and I want them all).

Cozy hobbit activities and productivity:

Read first thing in the morning

Packed some lunch before leaving the house

Listened to podcasts during my commute

Had a walk to go to uni and back

3 hour English lit lecture

Got my new beloved mug (i was also looking for a ghost themed tote bag but unfortunately I couldn't find it)

Daily duolingo Irish practice

Highlighted today and yesterday's notes

Crocheting my mushroom cardigan (I am considering packing a ball of yarn in my school bag to crochet a bit on the bus but I haven't tested yet)

Drinking a tea (as I write this) in my new mug under a blanket because my room is freezing

📖: A Monster Calls by Patrick Ness

[juniorgman187]

Any Day Now (Reid Fic)

A/N: Plz imagine being impregnated by season 10 Spencer Reid. WHEWW CHILE

Summary: Reader’s pregnancy finally takes its toll on her, leaving both Spencer and Reader to navigate through rough waters from miles away.  Category: Fluff, Soft-soft-soft angst, One-Shot Pairing: (POV)Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader Content Warning: Pregnancy Word Count: 3.2k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

At first, it was nothing I couldn’t handle.

Multiplied mood swings? Understandable, her hormones were everywhere. 

An ever-changing appetite? Great, at least now it wasn’t such a hassle for her to decide where to eat. 

A suddenly much tighter FBI vest? Well, that’s what the adjustable velcro straps were for. 

Again, nothing that I hadn’t already planned for. Even before I delved into parenting books galore, I had a pretty good general idea of what to expect. Not only because of JJ’s earlier pregnancy or Kate’s recent one, but more so because of my extensive knowledge of the human anatomy. This made riding the storm of (y/n)’s pregnancy easier ... until it didn’t. 

It was somewhere in her 35th week that things finally got the best of her. 

There was a linear increase of events that suggested things were taking a turn for the worse, so I slightly anticipated a steep decline to occur at any moment. For instance, soon after (y/n) started showing, I began to lose count of how many times I had to insert my hand between her seatbelt and her bump to create a gap just big enough so that the belt wouldn’t have such a suffocating restriction on her. Nor could I fully account for all the hours of sleep she’d lost tossing and turning, just trying to find a comfortable position where she wouldn’t be crushed by her own weight. And I certainly couldn’t remember, not even with my eidetic memory, how many times she’s almost walked out of the house completely barefoot after getting frustrated with her inability to put shoes on by herself. 

In some sad way, I knew she wished to regain some normalcy in her life. Not that she regretted motherhood, but that she wished she didn’t have to experience so many small inconveniences that summed up to something larger than the life she was helping come into fruition.

She just wanted to drink coffee again without running the risk of a miscarriage. She wanted to climb up a flight of stairs without getting winded by the first few steps. She wanted to put on a tight shirt without looking exceptionally overweight. And most of all, she just wanted to keep working.

If she had to go to hell and back to stay in the BAU while pregnant, then to hell and back she went. 

My wife, as stubborn as ever, had made me - and the entire team - promise not to baby her as soon as we revealed that we were expecting. 

“I don’t want any of that ‘but you’re pregnant’ crap, got it?” She narrowed her eyes darkly at all of us, pointing an accusatory finger. “Anything you can do, I can do pregnant.”

And from that day on, she did what she vowed to do, what I knew she could do. She still chased after unsubs, shot all the bad guys, arrested the felons, but eventually - inevitably - it wore down on her. 

The easiest effect I could identify was her drowsiness. It used to take her a while to fall asleep on the jet, and sometimes, she’d stay awake the entire flight. But after the grueling hours she’d endured during her pregnancy, we would barely board the plane before she knocked out. I think falling asleep in the seats gave her the comfort she couldn’t find lying horizontally in a bed. No one said anything, though, because she’d already made it explicitly clear that she didn’t want us to pay her any special treatment, which I understood. Nobody likes to be pitied, but after today’s incident, this went far beyond pity. 

It was just plain concern. 

“The doctor said I’ll be fine.” She grumbled, waving me away with a flick of her hand. However, seeing as she was currently lying in a hospital bed, donning a gown that only partially hid from me all the wires and pads that stuck to her body to monitor her health and relay it to the machines - she wasn’t fine. And I needed her to know that I wasn’t going anywhere, and neither was the team. (I didn’t tell her this because she would’ve quite literally took my head off, but they were all out there in the waiting room instead of working on the case). 

“Emphasis on the future tense ‘will.’ You will be fine, but right now, you’re not.” I prepared myself to deliver the news I knew she didn’t want to hear. My voice became significantly quieter, reaching such a low decibel I wasn’t sure she’d even hear it, but maybe that was by design. She didn’t want to hear it as much as I hated to say it. “Maybe you should consider going on maternity leave now.”

Immediately, my wife shook her head with the biggest pout I’d ever seen. I could see it in the way her lip quivered that she was about to cry, no doubt because of the hormones, but especially because this job was her last piece of normality. She clung to it because it was all she had left to remind herself that she was still, in some capacity, the woman she was before. 

“Spencer, please.” She begged, as if I could do anything. “I’m not ready to leave yet.” 

I pursed my lips and looked away for a second to hide my own emotions. Seeing her cry was never easy, but being the cause for it made this even harder. I felt the formation of a lump in my throat and the pricking of tears in my eyes. “I’m sorry,” I croaked. “But I can’t let you keep risking your health,” I explained, neglecting to voice the final part of that sentence. ‘Or our baby’s.’ But I didn’t say that. How could I? It would’ve only guilted her further. 

“Your blood pressure’s getting higher,” I explained, keeping my eyes steady on hers, not letting them stray to the machine that she clearly didn’t know how to read. But with one glance at the numbers, I already knew they weren’t good. I didn’t lead on just how bad they were, though. “You fainted today, and if you’d landed even a little bit differently, you would’ve ended up with a lot more than just a few scratches on your stomach.” That was the extent of my guilt-tripping. It didn’t feel right coming out of my mouth, but it was the only way I knew she would understand the severity of the situation. 

“You were already planning on going on maternity leave next week, what’s a few days earlier?” I asked, briefly referring back to her obstetrician’s recommendation of not flying after her 36th week. 

We both agreed that after week 36, she’d take her leave of absence since she couldn’t join us on the jet anyway. It was our ‘compromise.’ If she insisted on still going in the field, then she had to listen to the doctor’s orders and not fly for the last month. 

“Spencer,” She whispered again, this time with tears running down her cheeks at the bat of her eyes. With the pad of my thumb, I gently wiped them away, wishing I’d never caused them to be there in the first place. “I can’t do this anymore.” 

She never let on how difficult things had become for her. She never said it’s too much (and it must be too much some of the time). So when she finally admitted the burden her pregnancy had created, I could already sense its arrival. So without a second wasted, I pulled the guest chair right up next to her bed and sat in it while reaching for her hand. Despite the presence of the pulse oximetry on her index finger, I still took her hand between both of my own, not minding the gap that the device created. 

“You are the strongest woman I know. There aren’t many pregnant women out there who can do what you’ve done these past eight months. They wouldn’t even think of it.” We shared a brief laugh, which lightened the atmosphere enough to encourage me to continue. “You are bearing our child, (y/n). Nobody else gets to do that. Not me. Not another girl. Just you. It’s only you who can truly give for our baby right now and you’re -you’re my girl ... and right now, I need you to take care of our girl, okay?”

She nodded rapidly with still glistening eyes. For the first time, that day, she stopped thinking her job was as an agent and started knowing her job was as a mother. 

And a damn good one at that. 

_ _ _

If there was anything I’d learned over the past years, it was that I should never expect my wife to follow the rules. Today was no exception. 

She should’ve been in bed right now, taking it easy, but instead, she was standing right beside the jet, saying goodbye to each and every one of us before we boarded. 

This would be our first flight without her. 

“You take care, mama, okay?” Morgan told her, kissing her cheek before waving goodbye. 

“I’m gonna miss you so much.” Kate sighed, engulfing (y/n) in a hug that I knew couldn’t have been comfortable with each of their bumps in the way, but they relished in it anyway. If I didn’t know any better, it looked like Kate was about to cry. Maybe that’s because their dynamic was different than any other. Their simultaneous pregnancies meant that they knew one another’s struggles far better than any of us could, so granted, it would be hard for Kate and (y/n) to be away from each other. They’d been in this journey together after all, in a way I couldn’t have been.

“Oh,” JJ sighed happily, taking (y/n) in her arms and swaying gently from side to side. “You are going to be the best mother ever.” 

“Said the best mother ever.” (Y/n) remarked, laughing bittersweetly. It was something in her smile that let me know it was just for show. 

Then, in one of the rarest moments of history, Hotch hugged (y/n), earning a slightly more real smile from her.

“Get some rest. You deserve it.” He whispered. 

Not even a second after they pulled away did Rossi wait to take (y/n)’s face in his hands and plant two kisses, one on either cheek. 

“If you need anything, you call us.” He ordered, mimicking a drill sergeant.

And though, I wasn’t ready, I found myself making my way to her, getting ready for one of the hardest goodbyes. 

She wrapped her arms around my torso and let her head press against my heart. “I don’t know how I’m gonna do this without you.” 

For the first time that night, she wasn’t faking a smile or putting on a face. I knew when she was saying goodbye that she was only laughing and grinning for everyone else, but underneath it all, she was experiencing a great sadness that no one else could understand. Everyone was just as excited as we were for this baby, if for no other reason than I was finally going to have a family of my own. That I’d finally found the people who were going to be there for me forever. And maybe it was that knowledge, the knowledge of how happy this baby made others, was the reason she never let it show just how hard it was for her. Otherwise, it’d ruin the fantasy. And so she wore happiness like a mask to hide the profound pain that would’ve wounded our spirits. 

“Hey, I’m not leaving you forever,” I whispered somberly, hugging her a little tighter. “And if anything happens, I’m just a phone call away.” As much as I tried to believe my words, neither of us could find the truth in it. Even I knew I wasn’t just a phone call away. I’d be miles and miles and miles away from two of the best things that have ever happened from me. 

She inhaled sharply and pulled away from me, wiping the tears from her cheeks with the hope that I hadn’t already seen them. “I should probably let you go now.” She laughed lightly. 

Our bodies parted, but I had yet to let go of her hand. I shook it up and down gently as I told her, “I love you.”

She shook my hand back in just the same manner. “We love you, too.” 

A smile crept onto my face after the immediate realization of what she meant. 

My girls.

At last, when I walked up the steps to the jet, I finally let go of her hand at the last moment possible, and even after we released hands, our arms stayed outstretched for a passing second as the distance between them got further and further. With the warmth of her hand leaving mine vacantly cold, I watched as she replaced it on the very top of her stomach, as if to say, “We’ll be okay.” 

_ _ _

“Reid?” 

I refocused my vision to Morgan who was calling my name. From the look on his face, I realized he probably tried to get my attention multiple times before this. 

“Sorry, what did you say?” I shook my head to clear my mind, but it didn’t work. A part of me was still in another world, lingering in thought. 

My mind would never shut up about her, but it seemed like today, it was firing all these things at me at 2x speed. I couldn’t pinpoint the exact event that I felt guilty for, but really - take your pick. It could’ve been anything, it could’ve been everything. 

It could’ve been the fact that I was here and she wasn’t. It could’ve been the fact that in those last moments I saw her, I realized just how strong she was being this entire time, and how I was asking her to be even stronger, as if the weight of the world wasn’t enough. It could’ve been the realization that she was struggling this entire time, but never asked for help, thinking that she’d be a burden - the very thing she made us promise not to let her be. That is the reason after all, that she told us not to let her pregnancy be an excuse for anything. Because if she didn’t contribute anything, then she’d be holding us back - she’d be dead weight. I knew that, and yet, what did I do?

Nothing. I walked away and boarded that fucking jet like a brainless idiot.

I should’ve stayed with her. 

Morgan’s eyes turned to slits while he tossed the manila folder onto the table, seemingly setting it aside so it wouldn’t be a distraction from his question. “What’s going on, man?” 

I shrugged, pretending not to know exactly what he was talking about. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just zoned out, that’s all.” 

Clearly exasperated, he said, “Come on, man. Don’t do that. Tell me what’s wrong.” 

Whether it was defeat or a sweet surrender, I tucked my hands in my pockets and let my head hang low, eyes glued to the ground. Unexpectedly, I was sniffling and wiping my nose before I could register that tears were already coming. “I’m just worried about her.” 

It felt stupid to admit, especially considering I saw her only 8 hours, 37 minutes, and 12 seconds ago. But the absence of her and our baby was growing more and more apparent with every passing moment I spent in this office without her. Usually, she would be here to keep me company, bothering me while I located the comfort zone - not that she ever really did bother me. I quite liked her presence. 

Sometimes, when I was left alone, the room would get too quiet, and it’d just be me and my thoughts. And maybe she knew how scared of my own mind I was when it wandered, so she never let me be alone with it - never let the room get too quiet. She would talk and talk and talk, and I could never get tired of listening. Her voice was like white noise. If she was here, things would be as they always were. I would be standing at the map, and she’d no doubt be sitting in a chair, rubbing gentle circles around her protruding stomach as I felt her watching me intently. 

“Found it.” I would say, drawing a big red circle around the zone. 

To which she would say, “You’re a genius.” 

Sure, I’ve been called ‘genius’ a million times before, but it never felt the same as when she said it. 

Morgan could see the invisible pain in my chest, and he pulled me in by my shoulder to wrap his arm around me. It might not have looked like it, but it was the most reassuring hug he could’ve given me. I can’t explain it, but it felt like (y/n)’s warmth and love had possessed his body and he was radiating it now. 

“I know it’s scary, man, and honestly, we all wish we could be with her right now. But trust me when I tell you she’s not alone.” He treaded carefully with his words, and I could tell there was something he wasn’t saying but that wanted me to figure out.

I didn’t even have to verbalize my question because soon enough, when Morgan pulled back, his phone began to ring.

“It’s Garcia.” He told me, though he didn’t answer the call, which was weird enough. But then he gestured to the computer on the table, and so I half-heartedly watched as the screen changed from the blue background to a video call with Garcia. 

And who else would be sitting beside her but my wife?

“Look who I’ve got with me!” Garcia squealed, clapping her hands together excitedly.

“You’re supposed to be on bedrest.” I playfully scolded her.

“I was! I was, I promise. But after I said goodbye to you guys, I went home and got four hours of sleep, and then I went to my doctors appointment, but then when I was driving home, I thought why would I go back there when I’ve got everything I need right here?” She motioned around Garcia’s lair, even lifting up a hospital-go bag that Penelope no doubt compiled just for her. If there was anyone I trusted to take good care of her, it was Garcia. 

Like I said before, I learned to expect (y/n) not to follow the rules. So naturally, she found a way to still work even on maternity leave. 

At this point, the rest of the team neatly filed into the room, erupting in cheers of excitement at the sight of (y/n) in the bat cave. 

“Is everything okay?” JJ worriedly asked. 

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine! Baby looks good, my blood pressure’s getting better, so we’re doing okay.” She smiled proudly, and so did I. That was her first appointment on her own, and though it couldn’t have been easy, especially this late in her term, she did it anyway. Because that’s my girl.  

“When are you due, again?” Kate asked (y/n), earning an enthusiastic, “Doctor says if she’s on time, New Year’s Eve!” 

It never failed to make me smile whenever she brought up her due date. She was always excited to proclaim that our daughter might be brought into the world at the exact time we brought in the new year. 

“But if I’m early, it could be any day now.” She explained. 

Here’s where I had to cut in. “Hopefully not any day now! I don’t wanna miss it.” 

“You won’t!” She promised through a wide grin.

Something else you should know about my girl? She always keeps her promises. 

And on January 1, at exactly 12:00 - just as promised - I had the privilege of watching (y/n) deliver a healthy 6 pound and 9 ounce baby girl.

The weight of my whole world.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

Can you tell I love it when someone says “my girl”? I think that’s my favorite pet name ever. 

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[lovextriangle]

Imagine Kili after the Battle of the Five Armies

The battle was over. Yet, that didn’t mean much to Kili now, not when the price for such victory was too costly. He knew this was what everyone had hoped for, to beat the dragon, to reclaim their home no matter who stood in there way. Be it man, elf, or orc. At some point in time all had tried to stop them, events led to sides switching and the good prevailed against evil once more in Middle Earth. But losing them was never part of the plan.

The tears swelled up in his eyes as he thought back to his uncle, lying back on the frozen lake. He didn’t want to think about how the color of the ice had looked like Thorin’s eyes, so glazed over, no longer there. But the tears started to fall when he thought of his brother. Fili, his dearest brother, who had been ambushed by Azog. It was antagonizing to remember how the blade had been shoved through his twin’s chest. Kili clenched his fingers into his palms, Fili’s lifeless body being thrown to the bottom of the icy ridge.

Thorin had been the one to get revenge from Azog, which left Kili to the rest of the bottom-feeders. Pure rage was what had pushed him through, after it was all said and done he collapsed and was almost thought dead himself. Covered in blood of his and others. Death was too sweet of an escape from the reality Kili had to face now. A world where his family was ripped apart and thrown away and he had to fill in the place that was meant for others.

You knew of all these troubles that Kili was facing, that Kili was thinking of daily. Even three years after the Battle of the Five Armies, the funerals, and his enunciation as King Under the Mountain. That mountain being Erebor of course, the mountain that the company, and especially his Uncle had worked so hard to gain back. You had a feeling Kili still didn’t feel like it was his place or his right, he was a very young king for dwarf standards. His beard still peach fuzz and lack of growing.

It had been your duty ever since Kili was declared king to be his auditor. Almost like an advisor but for more personal, non-kingdom related issues. You were a great listener from an early age. All else that was needed was a soft tone, and kind eyes. Both of which you seemed blessed with. Today’s talk had been sudden as it was right after a council meeting with some of Kili’s old company members. Most had joined in high ranks, rightfully earned by their contribution to their journey and loyalty.

You sat across from the king, legs crossed underneath your dress. You sat upright and waiting for him to begin, but you had a feeling this session would be an intense one. So instead of keeping silent, you said, “Usually we stick to the planned schedule your Highness,” the upcoming meeting had been just two days later. “but you called for me sooner, may I ask why?” You had an idea as to why, but the process would only be helpful to Kili if he himself understood why he choose to seek you sooner.

“I couldn’t wait til then.” His words were clipped and on the other side of short table sat Kili. His hands holding the armrest on either side. He looked strained, nearly holding himself together. “What happened today?” Your tone was soft and soothing, trying to calm his nerves. What usually worked only had Kili flinching back, cringing at the thought of what put his mind into such unrest. “I thought I could get through the meeting..” his dark brown eyes were glued to the wall behind you. “but knowing them, things wouldn’t be over unless they were mentioned.”

Balin had called the meeting to a close, the diplomatic talk subsided into more friendly converse. Kili was happy to just sit and listen in on his old friends conversations, thinking more about what meal he would have. That is until he heard, “ah I still remember as if it were yesterday. Thorin herding us together, wee lads Kili and Fili…”

It only took their names for Kili to go into a shock of memories. What would have been happiness was replaced by loneliness and misery, a pain so heart-wrenching took over his lungs, as if he had been punched several times in the gut. He staggered to his feet, wanting to hear no more. “Kil- your Majesty?” Oin was just as startled from the abrupt motion from his left. “Are you alri-“

“Leave me be.” Kili bellowed and he shut his eyes tight, not wanting to see any of their pained faces. Knowing all of them would see him as weak, what they could get over was something he couldn’t bare to think about. Kili turned for the door, exiting the room and immediately his guards were by his side. “Tell y/n to meet me immediately.” No mention of the place was needed, his close guards knew where the both of you met regularly.

None of this needed to be stated for you to understand what Kili had meant by them or they. This hadn’t been the first time nor would it be the last, some things never healed. But you had hope for the healing, because no matter the severity time could mend the broken.

“I see their faces, cold and undead more often when their names are spoken aloud.” Thorin and Fili would have such a disdainful gaze, both staring from the ground which they were sprawled upon. Staring Kili down, eyes that said, “You didn’t save us” or “You should’ve joined us” it made chills run through the brown haired dwarf. He rubbed his thumbs against his temple, trying to ease the headache and make the images go away.

At times like these, words were hard to say. What could you say to someone who couldn’t stand to here the name of their own beloved uncle or twin because of such a tragedy. They were brutally killed by evil creatures who tortured for fun. They were killed for wanting their homeland back. They had been killed and it wasn’t Kili’s fault. But he felt the blame, and part of him didn’t want to exist in a world without his close kin.

The silence was thick and though it was your job to listen, you knew in this moment something needed to be said. “My king, no one but yourself blames you for the tragedy,” you continued on trying your best to maintain eye contact, “They risked their lives just like you did yours, and dare I say, they would be upmost proud to see how far you have come and how far you have carried your people.” Kili’s eyes met yours finally moving away from the wall. He felt heavy, in his chest, and his vision started to blur. He grieved his loss, the tears streaming down his face. He missed his brother so much, missed the guidance that Thorin gave. He longed so much to turn back time, to stick by his brothers side, to do so much differently.

You couldn’t stop yourself from getting up from your chair, crossing the couple of feet between the two of you, and kneeling down in front of your king. With a few more thoughts running through your head, if it was proper or the right thing to do, you pushed all things to the side you decided to stand and embrace him. Your arms easily wrapping around him in a comforting hug, to which he immediately leaned in, wanting the comfort you offered. This only made you want to do more, to ease his pain somehow, as your hands went up from his back to his neck, going into his hair. Combing through it with your fingers, one hand going back down to rub his back.

You both stayed like that for awhile. Kili’s tears had stopped after some time but still no one moved. In fact Kili moved closer, his face burying into your chest not wanting to leave. This was unprofessional but at the same time, you didn’t mind one bit. If this helped Kili in any way, especially with overcoming his strifes, then you would give him all the comfort and hugs he needed. Because even though he was going through such grief, he was a true King, and the best dwarf for the job in your opinion.

He deserved all the happiness in the world.

[blu-joons]

Underneath The Mistletoe ~ Johnny Seo

The night was beginning to draw in, the final remnants of Christmas day were left to be celebrated. As a chill graced the air you made your way out of the porch of your parent’s home feeling the crunch of the layer of snow under your booted feet.

As you let go of a sigh the air clouded, the colour of your hands turning a light shade of red as you gripped to the balcony. It had been the best part of a year since you last visited home, but one thing you made sure to never miss was Christmas.

This year was made extra special by Johnny being able to join you in a gap in his schedule, for several years your parents had been inviting him over but he always happened to be busy, but this year, he found the time to make for you.

It had been perfect, everything you could have dreamed of. You were lucky that your parents bonded so well with Johnny, and he absolutely adored them too, welcoming him into your family like he was one of their own.

The creak of the old door frame opening brought you out of your thoughts, you glanced across to see Johnny appearing by your side, handing you a thermal mug filled with hot chocolate, one for himself in his own hand too.

“When your parents bought us couple’s mugs, I thought it was stupid, but these have actually turned out to be quite handy,” he chuckled.

You lifted the lid up of the mug, allowing the steam to warm your face back up and get rid of the red hue on your cheeks as you tried to warm up. His body leant against the balcony matching your own, elbows touching against one another.

His body was wrapped up tightly having spotted you outside when he got up to grab a bite to eat, grabbing his coat and scarf before risking the outside. He was much better dressed than you were, rolling his eyes as you let go of an icy sigh.

“Do you want my jacket?” He offered, already beginning to slip it off, but your head shook, pulling it back around him. “You’ll catch a death if you stay out here like that much longer.”

Your shoulders shrugged, the weather didn’t matter, it never mattered when you were home, it was something you’d learnt to embrace. Nowhere in the world felt quite as cold as home, but that was why you loved it so much.

With your decline, Johnny instead pulled you closer into him, resting his hands either side of you on the balcony. “At least this will keep you a little warmer if you stand here for a while.”

“I’m not that cold, it just seems that way.”

“If you’re not cold, tell me why your hands match Rudolph’s nose,” he teased, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

With the sleeves of his jacket covering his hands, he rested them over yours and tightly squeezed against your skin to try and bring a bit of colour back to it. He didn’t know how you managed to stay outside when he would have been straight indoors at the first sign of a chill.

His chin rested against the top of your head as you snuggled further into the warmth of his chest. “Have you had a good Christmas with all of us?” You suddenly asked, hearing him hum in response to you.

“It’s probably been my favourite Christmas ever because I got to spend it with you. And you got me some epic presents like you always do, you always manage to exceed yourself every year, I don’t know how you do it,” he said.

You were pretty proud of your presents especially having paid attention throughout the year at all the little things he mentioned that he wanted.

“Well, I loved my watch that you bought me too, it’s the exact one that I wanted.”

The two of you fell back into a comfortable silence as you began to drink your hot chocolates, staring out at the picturesque scenery your parent’s garden provided. Droplets of snow hovered off all the tree branches, footprints were scattered everywhere from the last few days of playing in the snow, and the moon was beginning to light up perfectly to begin the festive period to a close.

Everything was just as you could have wished for, your very own winter wonderland, and the best present of all stood right by your side, finally being able to be with Johnny.

“I don’t think I’ve properly wished you a Merry Christmas today,” he noted, looking down at you.

“I’m sure you did; didn’t we say it when we woke up this morning?” You asked, thinking back.

Waking up in his arms on Christmas morning felt like a dream in itself, so you understood if maybe you had dreamt it. But you were sure as you watched his eyes open and his lips part, the two magical words came out of his mouth.

His head shook leaving you confused, as he placed his mug down onto the floor. “How can I have wished you properly if there was something missing from it?”

You watched closely as he reached into the back pocket of his jeans, pulling out a twig of mistletoe and holding it high above you. Your hand quickly came up to hide your giggle as his eyes fluttered shut and his lips pouted. You leant up to meet his lips, capturing them sweetly for a few moments, enjoying the feeling of the warmth of his body.

“Now my Christmas is complete,” he chuckled as you pulled away from him, watching the mistletoe slip out of his hold, falling gently in the gust of wind into the mountain of snow that had gathered in front of the balcony.

“I thought your Christmas was already complete by being here with me?” You challenged, remembering the second thing he told you as the two of you woke up that morning.

“It was, but I just had to be definitely sure that it was complete this time.”

Your smile grew, jabbing into his side. “You’ll do anything for a kiss sometimes, won’t you?”

If there was one thing Johnny would never tire of, it was your kisses. He was always around kissing you, whether it be raining or sunny, warm, or cold, he’d always be by your side with his lips pouted, silently demanding from you.

“I can’t help it that you’re so irresistible,” he teased, snaking his arms tightly around your waist.

Your head shook, twirling back around to look out over the garden, you only had two more days left at home before you had to go back with Johnny, all the sights that you would miss, and the people that you’d be without soon began to hit you.

“When do you think we’ll come back home?” You asked, tilting your head up to look at Johnny. “Well, to my home anyway.”

“Is this not my home?”

His eyes furrowed as you poked against his cheeks, “you know this is your home too, but you have your proper home. It’s only when I come back here do I remember how much I miss it when I’m not here, even though I love it with you.”

“I know the feeling.”

He tried to be strong and not let you see how much it phased him, but he hated being away from home too. He’d forgotten over the years what it really meant to be at home for Christmas, forgetting how special the times were that you all spent together.

“Maybe we should go to your family next year.”

He couldn’t lie, the thought of being back with his family brought a smile to his face, a tear to his eye, it had been far too long for them all. “We’ve got a whole year to talk about it yet, there’s still plenty of time for us to decide where we’ll spend Christmas.”

“Or maybe we could do it together, invite all our families to our place and really make it a Christmas that everyone will be able to remember.”

“I’ll agree to that so as long as you let me fill the place with mistletoe so I can kiss you wherever, and whenever, I want,” he teased, trailing several chilly kisses along your cheek. “Okay, maybe just one piece then, so I can still kiss you.”

You nodded in agreement, bending down to pick up the twig and hold it up against your head, offering your cheek for him to kiss, except his lips diverted, pressing against your own.

“Now my Christmas is complete, I got a kiss from you,” you blushed.”

His eyes lit up at your cheeky smile, “you don’t need to have mistletoe to get a kiss from me. Just say the words and I will always be happy to oblige and give you the best kiss in the world.”

“Best kisses in the world? Then why don’t you prove it?”

---

Masterlist

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Gavin’s Dangerous Night Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 危夜之约, which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

Do note that this date features S2 Gavin, but doesn’t contain S2 spoilers.

Timeline: The STF Filming Plan -> Dangerous Night Date -> Saving the Young Troublemaker Project

[ This date was released in CN on 28 Sep 2020 ]

Female Anchorwoman: Next, our focus is on breaking news.

On the television, the two words “Breaking News” are displayed on Loveland Night News. The female anchorwoman looks into the camera and starts presenting the news. 

Female Anchorwoman: Around 10pm today, a building in the suburbs of Loveland City collapsed for reasons still unknown. According to sources provided by eye-witnesses, the building was part of a certain estate development project, and has not been put to use. Typically, no one goes in or out. But this does not eliminate the possibility of people being trapped within. The municipal administration has expressed that this incident could have been caused by Evol. The STF has been engaged to carry out a rescue mission. Loveland Night News once again calls citizens...

Squadmate: Captain Gavin, we’ve contacted the base. The search and rescue dogs will be here soon.

Gavin sits on a chair, his legs crossed as he pulls the strings on his leather boots tightly.

Gavin: Got it. We’ll set out once the search and rescue dogs are here. 

Squadmate: Yes.

Gavin stands up, adjusts his equipment to a comfortable level, then picks up his phone on the table. 

The phone displays the time: 22:59. It’d take an hour to reach the collapsed building. 

Gavin taps on a message he received three days ago. The sender is MC.

Message from MC: Gavin, when I was out for location scouting, I discovered a slightly strange building in the suburbs of the city. There seems to be special Evol fluctuations inside. 

Message from MC: Does the STF want to make some time to investigate?

Message from MC: Just to be clear - I’m really not joking this time. 

His response was: I’ll take a look next week.

There’s a cute emoticon in the white message bubble opposite. 

And the conversation ended there.

The response section still retains the draft he didn’t send at the time: Don’t go there alone.

By the time images of the collapsed building appeared in the news, the surrounding area had already been cordoned off.

Gavin makes a call... “du”, “du”, “du”, again and again.

When the female automated voice resounds, Gavin hangs up.

---”the number you have dialed is currently unavailable.”

-

It’s dark.

I open my eyes, attempting to stand up in the dark. 

MC: ...I’m not dead. 

I rub the dull ache at the back of my head, panting while my heart flutters with fear. 

The collapse of the building happened so suddenly. I instinctively ran to a corner to hide. From the looks of it, that decision saved my life. 

I reach out to feel around my surroundings--

There’s a wall in front of me. It’s slanted, so it must have fallen. It just so happened to shield me from broken stones that fell.

But precisely because of this, I’m stuck in a narrow space and can’t really stand up.

MC: Cough, cough cough...

My mouth is filled with the taste of dust, and I don't know how long I've lost consciousness. 

The building was swaying very violently when it collapsed. I couldn’t stand steadily at all, and my entire body collided with a wall. 

I return to my senses, using both hands to feel the ground.

My phone... I remember gripping my phone the entire time.

No one knows that I'm here. This unfinished building has been left empty for several years, so no one might come to my rescue. 

I need to hurry and find a way to call for help.

Air is still flowing here, so there’s no danger of oxygen deprivation. But I can only survive for 3 to 4 days without a water source. 

Before the building collapsed, I was in the basement level. Logically speaking, it’s near the surface, but I can’t tell if the upper floors are crushing on it...

The wall above me doesn’t seem to be able to hold much more weight. If it gets weighed down slightly, there’s a risk of a collapse.

I frantically feel around the mess on the ground - it’s all pieces of rock, broken steel bars, glass shards...

Suddenly, I see a single, cold ray of light--

The phone touchpad recognises my fingerprint, lighting up the screen. I hurriedly pick up the phone, and on it displays: “2 Missed Calls”.

MC: Gavin. 

Upon seeing this name, the tautness in my heart suddenly relaxes. 

I immediately give him a call. The “du”, “du” of the dial tone resounds in the empty and quiet darkness, amplified infinitely. 

Countless thoughts fly across my mind--

Maybe Gavin is resting. Maybe he’s on an important mission. Maybe he isn’t in Loveland City now...

“du”, “du”, “du”...

When the fifth beep sounds, I’ve already set down the phone, preparing to hang up.

Gavin: Where are you?

MC: Gavin!

I suddenly hear Gavin’s voice. I stare at the screen and am stunned for a moment.

And react immediately!

MC: Gavin! The unfinished building in the suburbs I told you about just collapsed. I’m trapped in it, in the basement--

Gavin: Got it.

His voice is overly calm, which I find odd.

MC: You already know about the collapsed building? 

Gavin’s calm voice drifts from the phone, mixed with the clamour of his surroundings. 

Gavin: I’m in charge of tonight’s search and rescue mission.

MC: ...

MC: ...haha! That’s great.

Gavin: What’s wrong?

MC: Nothing much, I just feel the happiness of a disaster survivor.

Gavin: I haven’t even rescued you out yet. 

MC: With you around, there won’t be a problem. 

Gavin breathes composedly, as though not knowing what to say.

Gavin: If you were afraid of death, you shouldn’t have gone running around in the middle of the night. 

Gavin: ...I can’t leave out a single reminder.

Gavin raises his volume. 

Gavin: Where were you before the collapse? 

MC: The carpark in the underground basement.

Gavin: I’m looking for you now. Take care of your own safety.

MC: Hold on. Gavin, there’s no hurry to look for me. I was only here for a short while and there won’t be any danger. But I saw some vagabonds staying here at night. There are definitely other people in this building. Save them first!

Gavin is silent for a few seconds.

Gavin: The STF will not decide who it will save first or later. I’ll save everyone.

-

I don’t want to wait here alone, so I don’t hang up even after a long time. 

Neither does Gavin.

Sometimes, the sound of Gavin and other members of the STF would drift from the phone. 

Gavin: Do you have the plane figure of the building?

Squadmate: Got it. Captain Gavin, we’ve asked around the vicinity, and there are a few vagabonds living in this building. Most of them are on the third or fourth floor. 

Gavin: There’s been a rainstorm these two days. This building doesn’t have covered windows. Locations near the windows will be drenched from the rain. They should be in the middle parts of the floor. Two people per group - bring the search and rescue dogs and begin the operation.

Squadmate: Understood!

I hug the phone in contemplation.

Before sending Gavin the message, I had already visited this building a few times to investigate. 

I familiarised myself with all the entrances and exits to have the confidence to deal with any surprise situations. But I completely didn’t expect that this would happen.

Gavin: [with a gentle voice capable of making flowers bloom] Are you all right? 

After a moment, I realise that Gavin is talking to me. 

MC: Huh? I’m fine.

I look at the time displayed on the phone - It’s already 1am.

Gavin: Are you sleepy? 

MC: ...I’m not that brave. How could I be drowsy under such circumstances?

Gavin: The scope of the basement level is too large. I need a more detailed lead.

MC: Are you holding the plane figure of the building?

Gavin: Yes. Relate your route to me.

MC: I came in using the east entrance, and planned to take the stairs up from the fire exit. So I should have been heading west.

The sound of a finger gliding across the paper can be heard. 

Gavin: During the collapse, did you see the fire exit?

MC: I didn’t. It was probably around a hundred metres away. I’m currently trapped in a corner. The structure here is pretty stable, so it could be a load-bearing wall.

Gavin: I know your approximate location. Wait for me.

MC: Mm.

Hearing my soft sigh, Gavin laughs. 

Gavin: Are you afraid? 

MC: Maybe a little. It’s a new experience in life, so of course it’d scare someone.

Gavin: Knowing what it means to be afraid is a good thing. If I didn’t come, how did you plan to rescue yourself?

MC: There’s no such “if”. The moment I felt something was amiss, I gripped my phone and wanted to give you a call.

I hold onto the phone, staring at the light on the screen, and staring at the word “Gavin” on it.

Just this name alone harbours the ability to make one feel at ease. 

Gavin: You’re so certain that I’d come rescue you?

MC: Mm! Captain Gavin is someone who will never leave a single Loveland City citizen in the lurch.

Gavin ignores me. 

MC: ...

MC: Have you found the other people who are trapped? 

Gavin: We’ve found two. They’re being rescued now. 

MC: That’s fast...

Gavin: STF’s search and rescue dogs have undergone professional training. They can accurately locate people who are trapped. 

MC: Search and rescue dogs? 

??: Bark!

A bark suddenly drifts from the other end of the line. 

Gavin: Little Grey should have found you.

MC: Little Grey? What a careless name... Were you the one who named it?

Gavin: What’s wrong with the name?

...I don’t give him a response.

In the darkness, I seem to hear sounds from above. 

Tiny rocks are pelting from above. The steel bars seem to be weighed down by something, releasing a whimpering sound.

Gravel and dust rustle as they fall...

MC: Gavin!

MC: Leave quickly. Bring your men and leave immediately, it’s dangerous! There’s going to be a second collapse--

Gavin breathes, as though he’s about to speak, but doesn’t. He quickly issues out orders. 

Gavin: Everyone, take note. Evacuate immediately. I repeat - Evacuate immediately! 

I hug the phone, not sure what I should say to Gavin.

Gavin: [with the gentlest of voices] MC, you’ll be okay.

His voice carries with it his usual confidence.

Gavin: I guarantee. 

I press the phone to my ear, capturing every breath in his voice. After adjusting my breathing, I raise my volume.

MC: You have to leave quickly, don’t stay here! I’m very safe where I am. Shouldering another collapse is no problem!

The creaking of the steel bars grows closer. I’m not sure if it’s just my misperception, but the wall above me seems to have caved downwards slightly.

Already set to the lowest brightness, my screen becomes even dimmer.

A few large rocks pelt down in front of me, channelling large gusts of dust. 

MC: Just bring Little Grey to look for me later, I...

Rumble!

-

The building collapses once again, causing dust clouds to billow.

The STF team members have rescued two elderly folk who are in their fifties, who collect scraps for a living. 

Gavin stares at the ruins in front of him wordlessly.

His eyes are mixed with imperceptible, repressed emotions. It’s as though underneath the tranquil ocean hides turbulence and fierceness. 

The searchlights illuminate the location he was standing at just now, and the search and rescue dogs had already sent a signal to him -- it meant that his target could have been under his feet.

Maybe only five metres away. Maybe three metres.

Gavin: Everyone--

He squats down, rubbing the nape of the rescue dog, pulling on its leash again.

Seeming to sense something out of the ordinary, they wag their tails at Gavin, as though comforting him without words.

With a heavy gaze, he looks towards the two rescue dogs, as though he’s handing over all his trust. 

Gavin: Recommence the search and rescue operation. Be sure to rescue everyone who has been trapped.

-

The phone has already exhausted its battery, and has shut off automatically.

I’m huddled in a corner, trying to reduce the amount of energy expended.

I know that the slanted wall has already collapsed, and is hanging above. Maybe the steel bar didn’t snap, which is why only half of it has weighed downwards.

There’s a wall behind me, and a gigantic fallen rock in front. I don’t have any space to move.

But it’s far too dark. I can’t check the condition of the wall behind me, and I don’t know how much longer it can hold. 

MC: Gavin. 

There’s nothing I can do. I lean on the wall and wait patiently. 

I know he’ll come.

MC: ...

A few hours pass, and I hear some sounds from above, but they disappear into the darkness quickly. 

Perhaps knowing that Gavin will definitely appear, the fear and anxiety in my heart dissipates with the passage of time. 

The most distinct feeling is tiredness. 

Maintaining my posture of sticking close to the wall, my back is hunched, and I’ve been sitting until my bottoms hurt.

Time passes so slowly here. Every second is elongated. 

The physical fatigue I’m experiencing tells me that an entire night has gone by.

In the middle of sleeping and waking, a bright light suddenly appears before my eyes...

I immediately turn my back towards it -- as expected, in the next instant, a strong wind suddenly lifts the tiles and bricks in my surroundings.

I lift my head to see Gavin standing above the ruins. 

The sun is faintly discernible behind him and the layers of clouds, illuminating a faint glow in the blue horizon. Wind brushes his fringe, revealing that pair of resolute amber eyes. 

Gavin: Are you okay?

His voice is very light, and exudes a rare fatigue. It seems he has been busy the entire night. But a faint smile still hangs at the corners of his lips. 

...as compared to the wry smile I’m wearing now, Gavin seems more like the disaster survivor.

Gavin: Give me your hand!

He takes a step forward, reaching out to me. I hurriedly hold onto it, but I don’t want my entire self to be towed away by him.

My vision is turned upside down. Gavin suddenly hoists me onto his shoulders.

MC: ...Gavin?!

I see that under his protective gear, his shirt is drenched with sweat, sticking to his broad back.

Reason tells me to put up a bit of a struggle. But after hanging by a thread between life and death for an entire night, I seem to be unable to triumph over the tiny greed in my heart.

The doctor from the ambulance comes over to help, but Gavin waves a hand at him, signalling that there’s no such need.

He walks forward by around ten metres, leaving the site of the ruins. He sees me down on the hood of a STF car. 

His brows are furrowed, looking as though he’s suppressing his emotions. My gut feeling tells me that he’s angry.

MC: ...I was wrong! I was wrong because I shouldn’t have gone running around in the middle of the night, and troubling the STF to rescue me. As for using the community’s resources, I’ll be sure to do a serious self-reflection.

MC: I guarantee that this is the only time. There won’t be a next time! 

Gavin was probably about to say those things to me, and didn’t expect that I’d acknowledge everything. So he remains silent for a period of time.

Although are elements of a joke in my words, I shoot him a resolute, apologetic and sincere expression.

I know that he’s worked hard for an entire night, and has been worried for an entire night. 

After a moment of silence, he releases a faint sigh. 

Gavin: You said it yourself - there won’t be a next time.

While he speaks, he reaches out to place a hand on my head--

MC: Ah it hurts...

The back of my head suddenly hurts, and I exclaim softly. When I reach out to touch it, I discover that there’s a big lump on the back of my head.

Gavin: You’ll only learn your lesson after experiencing some pain. I’ll send you to the hospital for a check up later.

MC: No need, I...

Information must have been sent through his earpiece. Gavin lifts his hand to signal that I should be quiet. He leans his head to the side, listening seriously.

Thinking that the search and rescue operation has yet to be completed, and that he definitely has other things he’s busy with, I hop down from the hood of the car, making a “I’m off” hand gesture towards him.

The world around me suddenly darkens a few times--

My legs grow weak, and my vision dims. Dimmer and dimmer...

Just before I lose consciousness, I seem to feel Gavin’s hand on my cheek, the rough fabric of the military gloves, his calloused finger pads...

I feel it all.

-

Doctor: The nuclear magnetic resonance shows that it’s just a mild shock of the brain. It’s nothing serious. The loss of consciousness is only temporary. It could also be due to low blood sugar levels and insufficient rest.

Doctor: If you’re worried, she can remain in the hospital for observation for two days. Are you a family member of the patient? I’ll bring the documents over in a while.

Gavin: All right.

With a sound of acknowledgement, the doctor leaves the ward.

The girl lying on the bed hasn’t regained consciousness. The IV on the back of her hand is strung to glucose.

Gavin walks over, reaching out to brush aside her fringe, which is damp with sweat. His brows furrow slightly, as though he’s angry. As though he doesn’t know who he should be angry with.

Gavin: ...why are you so bold - daring to go anywhere on your own.

He sits on a chair in front of the bed, leaning against the back of the chair in fatigue.

His deep gaze sweeps past her pale cheeks and haggard shoulders, stirring up great waves within his eyes which differ from usual.

After a while, deep breathing fills the quiet room.

Sunlight pours in through the curtains, chasing away all the darkness and unease of the night before.

-

Phone call: here

-

🦮 MOMENTS 🦮

Gavin’s Post: The team received a box of canned dog food.

MC: I don't know the address of the base for search and rescue dogs, so I could only send them to you.

Gavin: Got it. I’ll send it to the base.

-

Gavin’s Post: The team received a box of canned dog food.

MC: I sent it - it’s for Little Grey.

Gavin: They don’t eat outside snacks, but I’ll convey your kind regards to them.

-

Gavin’s Post: The team received a box of canned dog food.

MC: Only cans of dog food? Captain Gavin, check the box again...

Gavin: A silk banner for Little Grey? All right, I’ll accept it on its behalf.

[the-witty-pen-name]

Fell in Love in Scotland Pt. 2

Sam Wilson x F!Reader

Warnings: ptsd/trauma related to war; mentions of nightmares; angst; cursing; pining; slow burn; 18+ in later parts (maybe? not sure yet)

Summary: After finding about the new Captain America, the reader goes to Louisiana to visit Sam.

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: So I know this isn’t on my list of things I *should* be working on, but I had this idea today and I had to get it down! This is only going to be 2-3 parts.  (Edit: 3 parts!) This is my first time writing for Sam!

I’m taking a small break from working on my other works in progress to focus on getting out as much Sam content as a can before Sam’s (and my) bday on the 14th! Not sure how much I’ll be able to write but that is my hope!

My biggest flex at the moment is sharing a bday with Sam.

This references Civil War, Endgame and Infinity War events in flashbacks but you know, canon is a thing I like to just maneuver around so I’m sorry if there are many major inaccuracies!

This is unedited and please let me know if I missed anything that should be included as a warning.

Taglist is in my bio

The safe house in Scotland was small. A little cottage hidden away in the countryside. Absolutely beautiful, if not for the looming reminders of why you were there in the first place.

You didn’t handle laying low well. You didn’t like not doing anything. Your resolve for handling your thoughts, your problems had always been to just push them aside. Focus your energy on anything but what would pull you down. You couldn’t allow yourself to just exist. Time stopped and there was no fight to be fought, and you hated it.

Fortunately, you were with people who understood. Sam and Steve especially. It didn’t take long for Sam to work his way in. He understood you, and he related to you. Neither one of you really needed to acknowledge it. There was an unspoken understanding between the two of you which made it all feel so seamless.

You were restless, and nights were always the worst. You’d spend several hours tossing in turning on your mattress, unable to get comfortable. You’d bring your pillow and sheet with you onto the floor of your room, and if you were lucky enough to fall asleep, you’d wake up after only a few hours. Sometimes you’d remember the nightmares vividly, other times it was just the feelings that lingered.

Most nights, you’d wait it out in your room watching the clock until it was early enough to “get out of bed.” So, you’d wait until the red numbers on the screen turned to 4am and then you’d sneak your way downstairs to the kitchen or the living room, so you didn’t need to face the idea of sleep.

After a few weeks, Sam caught on to your routine. He would join you in the mornings, help you make coffee and talk about nothing. Just helping you keep your mind off the things that bothered you. He looked as tired as you, and you would insist on him getting more sleep. But Sam never made you go through any of the hard days on your own.

“You get used to it,” he’d say, understanding what you were going through better than anybody.

“I don’t know if I can,” you admit, curled up in a ball on the sofa, the warm mug of coffee Sam made cradled tightly in your hands. The curtains are pulled open, and you stare out the window to your right, watching the sun slowly coming up.

“You should try sleeping in your bed again,” he suggests. You’d recently promoted yourself from sleeping on the floor to the couch. Baby steps. You nod, knowing he’s right.

You get a rental car the next morning and you drive to the address Sam texted you. You’re greeted immediately by two rowdy young boys, asking you if you’re an Avenger like their Uncle Sam. He’s literally Uncle Sam. How could he think he didn’t deserve the shield? Well, you know why. But the coincidence is too funny not to bring up to him once all of this is resolved.

Each of them grabbed you by an arm and drag you to the backyard. You chuckle, following their lead as they ask you a million questions. They call out to Sam when he is in view and he smiles when he sees you. Your heart flips.

“They bothering you?” he asks and you shake your head.

“No, they’re great,” you beam watching them run off.

“You look good,” he compliments you, and you feel like jelly. “You’re sleeping?” Oh.

“Yeah, I mean, for the most part,” you reply, “So do you.” You can’t miss the smile on his face. “So, uh, have you heard from Bucky?”

“I text him all the time, trying to check in, but no nothing. You?”

You shake your head. “I stopped trying,” you admit, “but I can’t blame him. He really doesn’t know me.”

“He’ll come around,” he reasons, trying to be optimistic. “So, I want to show you the boat?”

“You have a boat?” you chuckle, and he grins, nodding like a little kid.

“35-foot yacht,” he teases.

“Of course,” you smile.

It was only just noon when you both arrived at the docks. The air felt crisper, and the sun felt phenomenal on your shoulders. It wasn’t until you were outside in weather like this that you realized how often you opted to stay hidden away in your apartment. The atmosphere just felt more alive, and the air in your lungs felt almost cleansing.

You sat across from Sam on the bow of the boat, your legs dangling over the side. You were sitting close enough to him that your thighs touched, and you were trying your hardest to ignore the feeling. You just felt warm, and you felt more relaxed than you had been since you’d last seen him.

“I just need to ask,” Sam asks, cutting through both of your laughter. You really had spent the day so far just reminiscing, talking about nothing really. “Did you and Cap- were you guys…?”

“Oh god no,” you choke quickly, you stifle another laugh, “Steve was just a really great friend. No nothing like that. I would go to the end of the earth and back for Steve… but no, I didn’t have feelings for him that way.”

“I had thought maybe at one point something was going on there,” he shrugs. Is he serious?

“Never,” you reiterate.  

Sleeping in a bed became easier, but the nightmares were something that you just couldn’t shake no matter how hard you tried. Many times, it would be late in the night and you’d be gently shaken awake. Sam would be kneeling next to your bed, trying to wake you up.

“Please stay,” you’d ask, eyes glossed over and your skin stained with tears. He could never say no. You’d scoot over and he’d climb in and settle next to you. It wasn’t even anything romantic. You didn’t cuddle or invade his space. You just needed to feel him next to you, and you’d be able to sleep. The cycle continued for a long while until you were able to sleep through the night without the haunting dreams.

But you missed waking up with him there.

“You need to tell him,” Steve would insist, and you’d shut down the idea every single time.

“No, I can’t,” you’d insist. The only person who knew how you felt was Steve. You hadn’t even told him; he just knew you too well.

“You’re making yourself miserable,” he’d elaborate, “you deserve a little happiness- Sam deserves happiness. He wants you too.”

“Happiness? With me?” you snort, “Steve, think about me, my past- everything I carry around with me. You know as well as I do, I can’t infect him with that when he has his own issues. We’re all too broken- he deserves better.”

“You don’t to be the one to decide that for him,” he counters. “What Sam deserves is the truth.”

“I know, I know!” you sigh, wrapping your arms around yourself and you can’t look at Steve. “Telling him how I feel complicates things to much. I can’t risk it.”

“Even if he feels the same way?”

“Especially if he feels the same way.”

You rest back on your palms, close your eyes and tilt your head up towards the direction of the sun. Your mind wanders to Steve, and how much you miss him. You were oftentimes too thick headed to take any of his advice but it was something you hadn’t realized you needed.

You decide to just throw out all your apprehension. And just take the advice from Steve you should’ve taken years ago. The timing is perfect. The universe is screaming at you to just tell him.

“I gave up the shield because I didn’t think anyone could follow Steve,” he admits, “I didn’t think I could fill the role- no one can, or maybe no one should.”

“You’re the only person who can, Sam,” you say, looking back over to him.

“When I gave it up, I didn’t think it would be given to someone else. I donated it- to keep it with the rest of what we have left of him. God- if I had known…”

“I watched on television when you donated it, Sam,” you say, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Symbols are nothing without the men and women that give them meaning… I wish you saw yourself the way Steve did- the way I do…”

“That’s not fair…”

“You said we need new heroes for the times we’re in. Sam- the world needs a new Captain America. And you know as well as I do, that man on TV they pushed out there isn’t it.”

“It’s not me, either,” he says, looking down at the water, the reflection of the two of you rippled and distorted.

“I wish you could see how much that isn’t true,” you admit, “I also- I also wish I was more like you… You’re so good at talking to me… people like us and Steve. You show people their value and their worth, and you’re just so fiercely loyal it’s almost annoying. And I suck at that, I’m a terrible communicator, and I can’t vocalize how much you’re worth, and how much you deserve the shield. Feelings are just too overwhelming and I can’t focus them into anything coherent. And you right now need what you give others just so freely, and you’re stuck with me… I know I’m not Steve, and I as much as I try to convince you the decision is yours, but you need to know that you are the only person who can be our new Captain… Steve wasn’t wrong about you, and I just… I’m in your corner.”

“(Y/N) …”

It was safe in Scotland. Quiet, secluded. Time wasn’t looming over you. There was nothing there that was any imminent threat except your own demons that you carried with you. You had a lot of regrets, past mistakes that haunted you whenever you slowed down. It’s why when you left the air force, you joined SHIELD. You were like Steve, kindred spirits plagued by the after effects of war and both of you resolved to fighting rather than be left to your own devises.

Not like Sam. Sam put his focus into helping others. Selfless, and understanding, he was always there. He was thoughtful with what he chose to fight for, which is something you greatly admired. He was morals and loyalty, and everything that made a great man. He was a friend first, and a fighter second.

Which is such a rare quality that you wished you could tell him you noticed.

Steve got very into crossword puzzles. He found a box up in the attic tucked away of old books from whoever used to live here. He’d sit on the armchair in the living room, pencil in hand and try his best to fill in what he knew. He ended up heavily relying on you and Sam to fill in the references he didn’t know.

You and Sam would be on the couch, you tucked into his side, watching television or sometimes you’d both read, old magazines or anything you could find for entertainment. One night you both sat on the floor on opposite sides of the coffee table with an incomplete deck of cards playing Double Solitaire, and Steve would occasionally vocalize a clue he was stuck on.

“Drummer of Duran Duran. Blank Taylor. Five letters,” Steve said, not looking up from the flimsy book.

“Roger Taylor,” Sam answered aimlessly, tapping the card in his hand to his chin as his eyes scanned the columns of cards.

A few minutes of silence follow before Steve speaks again.

“1996 Looney Toons film starring Michael Jordan. Eight letters.”

“Space Jam,” you smirk, and you bite your lip to hold back a laugh. You want to ask him what the theme is for the puzzle he’s working on but you decide against it. You don’t want to embarrass him.

It felt really silly. The three of you, all ex-military crime fighters on the run, couped up together in this tiny living room, playing cards and helping Captain America with a pop culture crossword. Maybe it just felt weird because it was so normal.

You’re sweating. You didn’t realize it until just now. The dampness of the underarms of your t-shirt was all you could focus on. Why were you so nervous? Because again, the universe if giving you every single sign to just tell him. Yell it out so loud it echoes back to you across the water. Tell him. Tell him everything.

Every harbored fantasy of being with him. Tell him how much he means to you and how sorry you are that your fears drive you away from him. He feels so strong, and stoic next to you, it’s making your head spin and you feel like your brain is leaving your body behind. He’s so understanding and patient, and here you are, again, leaving him on another cliff hanger.

“Sam, I need to tell you something.”

No going back now.

Taglist:

@greeneyedblondie44 @witchybarb @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan @sassy-kassaay @aynanasstuff @claudiaatje @lieswithoutfairytales @ttalisa​ @januarystears 

[all1e23]

Between the Stars [Prologue]

Pairings: Past!Steve x Reader, Bucky x  Reader

Summary:  Struggling with the death of your husband, you find comfort in someone unexpected.

Series warnings: CHARACTER DEATH. Grief. Overall sadness. Depression. It’s pretty angsty if I’m being honest. Things mellow out as the series goes on. 

A/N:  It’s a military AU which I forgot to mention because I’m an ass. Starting you out with some seriously sad shit right out of the gate. I am sorta sorry. Sorta not. @teamcap4bucky​ Read a preview and responded with “fucking, fuck you” so that should give you an idea of what you’re going into. There is a lot of angst but it’s not gratuitous. It’s purposeful and shows the ups and downs of grief and moving on. I think I grabbed everyone’s tags if not shoot me a message. If you like it write a book report, sing me a song or come scream at me. 

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam, though! Thanks!****

“I’m serious, Y/n.”

“Okay,” You mocked teasingly. “You’re serious.”

Steve growled, teasing smile curling up the edge of his lips despite the frustration in his eyes. He gripped your waist and pulled you away from his duffle, ignoring your yelp of protest and settling you on his lap. His pants scratched the back of your bar legs. You hated those stupid pants, they were stiff and uncomfortable. They made him look like someone you didn’t know. Or, at least someone you didn’t want to know. 

Your fingers find the soft, worn fabric of the ugly tan shirt he had to wear — Army regulation or not, it was still ugly. The fabric twisted around your fingers, pulling it from his pants, ruining his pristine appearance. Maybe if his shirt was wrinkled, he would get in trouble and not have to go. It was unlikely. He had a unit to command, but a frightened wife could dream, couldn’t she? 

This was the fourth deployment the two of you have gone through together. The stupid support groups were all liars. It didn’t get easier after the first, it got harder. You knew the risks before, but now you understood, really understood what they meant. Things became second nature that shouldn’t be second nature for anyone. Like turning your television on in the morning, to see if there would be a notification officer and chaplain knocking on your door within the next eight hours. Every night that passes without a call leaves you wondering if the last time you spoke would truly be the last. 

It leaves you panicked. Did you say I love you enough? Did he say it to you? Will you ever be lucky enough to hear it one more time? 

But then the call comes, and everything is right for the twenty minutes you get to hear his voice. 

The sparks are gone just as fast as he is. 

“Hey,” Steve’s voice had lost the hard, playful edge. It was soft. The softness he used when he tried to coax you awake in the morning, or when Steve spilled the secrets hidden within that generous heart of his — the same gentleness Steve used whenever he told you he loved you.

A roughened index finger tapped under your chin and tilted your head up from where it was hiding in his neck. 

“I meant what I said. This is the last one. I’m done after this.” 

It was that time again. Re-enlisting. You knew Fury had attempting to convince Steve to stay and true to his word Steve would shake his head and end the conversation before they ever got far. The Army could be persuasive, though. 

“You really think they will let you go?” 

Steve cupped your cheek and tightened his hold on your hip, tugging you securely onto his lap, so your legs hung off one side. “They won’t have much choice. I’ve given them all I can give them.” 

“B-But--” 

Steve leaned in and swallowed your broken protests in a gentle kiss. You didn’t have time for more, so it was nothing salacious, but his lips lingered far longer than they should if you were in public. Thankfully, you were still home and could savor the feel of his lips. The cool air hit your barely swollen lips, and you shuddered, immediately wishing he would kiss you again. You wanted to keep that warmth for just a little longer. 

“No buts. Do you trust me, Y/n?” 

You searched his eyes, bright, full of hope and vulnerable like they always were when he looked at you. 

“With my life. You know, I do.” 

Steve grinned, and if you weren’t already in love with him, you would be falling fast. 

“I promise you, Y/n. This is it. My last tour and then I’m all yours. We can do everything we said we would and finally start a family.” 

You could feel your eyes burning from tears; you refused to let fall. Steve brushed a kiss under your right eye, letting you know it was okay to let them fall if you wanted. 

“Do you really promise? This is the last time?” You finally whispered. 

“I do. There’s nothing that could keep me from coming to you. Fifteen months, baby. I just need you to hang on for fifteen months.” 

You huffed a watery laugh and wiped those insolent tears away. “I can wait fifteen months for you. I’d wait forever, Steve.” 

—

“—Steven Grant Rogers. A man who was devoted to his country and his lovely wife—” 

You blinked several times, your eyes focused on the dark wood five feet in front of you, and the words all ran together in your ears. You didn’t need to hear the kind of man your husband is. You knew. You knew how kind and selfless and courageous he is—he was. 

A cool breeze ruffled up the edges of your black dress and left you with a chill buried deep in your bones, one that would never leave you. At least the weather had behaved. There was no rain, the sun was glowing through what little clouds were nearby. It was the kind of day Steve would have called perfect. There was nothing perfect about today, no matter how brightly the damn sun insisted on shining. You had briefly thought of having the service inside some church somewhere, but neither of you attended enough while he was living to make that an option. Sarah had argued with you, they wouldn’t care about that. No one would judge you or ask you to leave, sweetheart. Deep down, you knew that. It simply didn’t feel like Steve, and you wanted his last moments with you to be him. 

Finally, you settled on the park where you met all those years ago, where he proposed, and under the tree where you vowed to love him forever seemed like the only right place to say goodbye. You don’t know how but between Sam and Nat, they found a way to make it happen. You assumed some strings were pulled, favors called in that you could never repay. 

At least Steve came home to you. 

Even if it wasn’t the way, he promised to come home to you.  

You can’t help but glance to your left, Sam was standing there in his dress uniform, shoulders squared and face blank. If you didn’t know him so well, you would think he was simply another soldier paying respects to Captain Rogers. You knew his tells. That clenched jaw, the tightened fists, and the slow, deep breaths he took every few minutes as if he has scheduled them out. Sam’s hand startled you when it reached yours, his fingers threading with your own. He wasn’t supposed to do that, and as if he could read your mind, his shoulder shrugged, and the faintest smirk appeared. 

It was nice, but you couldn’t help but feel like something— someone was missing. 

“Why didn’t Bucky come?” 

You should be quiet, but your silence wouldn’t change who you were burying today or the fact that you were going home alone tonight and every night from here on out. Keeping quiet wouldn’t change that you will never get to kiss or hold your husband again. Everyone in attendance will go back home to their spouses tonight, they get to leave and breathe a sigh of relief because it wasn’t them. They will go home to hold their loved ones and whisper how they won’t ever leave them the way Steve left you and make promises for more because they still have a future where promises and more exist. 

So, if anyone had a problem with your whispers, they could go to hell. 

“He needed to stay with the rest of the unit,” Sam whispered, tightening his hold on your hand for some reason you weren’t sure of. You’ve already heard the worst. You doubt anything Sam said at this point could hurt you. “Someone had to stay behind, and he thought it would be better for guys and… for you.” 

Turned out you were wrong. 

You ignored the pinching in your chest and turned back to face the preacher, your concession to Sarah though it still felt a little off. Part of you had hoped Bucky would be there to help with everything, so when the plane landed a few days before, you had been surprised to see Sam had escorted Steve back home instead of Bucky. Not because they weren’t close or because Steve didn’t love Sam like a brother. He absolutely did, but it’s always been Steve and Bucky for as long as anyone could remember. You found it hard to believe Bucky wouldn’t put up a fight to be here for goodbye.

The casket flag was slowly pulled from atop the casket, and dizziness hit you. It was nearly over. You felt your eyes fall closed, and the voices around you faded away. Everything blurred. You didn’t want this. None of this was fair. You were supposed to have forever, and now you had nothing. It wasn’t supposed to go this way. He promised. Steve promised, and he didn’t break promises! 

Especially ones made to you.

“Sam?” You whispered.

You took a deep breath and opened your eyes. They were on the 8th fold. Each fold took another piece of you, just another chip of whatever was left of the person you were. Whoever that girl was, the moment that flag was in your hands, you knew you would never be that girl again. 

“Yeah?” 

“I don’t think I can do this.” You whimpered as a few tears began to fall. 

“I’ll go with you—” 

“No, I can’t do this… go on alone. Without him. I can’t—I just can’t.” 

“You’re not alone, Y/n. We are all here for you for as long as you need.” 

Everyone but Bucky.

A man you didn’t recognize, a nameless face approached you, thirteen folds between his hands, a tiny crooked hat made out of stars and stripes. Strange how something only a little bigger than your purse, could destroy the rest of your life. The man stood stoically and met your eyes as he repeated what you were sure was a well-rehearsed line he practiced many times. 

“On behalf of the President of the United States, the United States Army, and a grateful Nation, please accept this flag as a symbol of our appreciation for your loved one’s honorable and faithful service.”

You wished it could do something to ease to the ache. They were hollow words that meant nothing. Through the haze that had fallen over you, taking away the sun and the clouds, you must have reached out with shaking hands because Sam stepped forward to help support the newly added weight, guiding it into your arms. You clutched the flag against your chest, holding on to all you had left of your husband. You squeezed your eyes shut and prayed to whoever would listen, Please let me wake up now. Please, please let this be a nightmare.

No savior was coming; it wasn’t a dream, and Steve was never coming home. 

Masterlist // Next 

[jksangelic]

heaven’s winter (m)

RATING: M

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

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

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

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

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

WORD COUNT: 18,600

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

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

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

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

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

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

Part One

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

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

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

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

You suppose, not even the nagging of your aunts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Part Two

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good luck!”

“Watch your surroundings, little one.”

“Come home and don’t wander off!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Taehyung…”

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

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

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

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

 Part Three

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Don't dilly-dally!"

"Come straight home."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

More howls from them, more cries from you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Part Four

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The voice scolds, “Hey, slow.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Part Five

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

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

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

“Ah, human. You’re awake.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Part Six

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

❋

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Because I was hurt."

"How were you hurt?"

"Next question."

"What are you reading?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Part Seven

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No reply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What were you doing, human?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Leave." So you do.

 Part Eight

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Confused, you nod.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Part Nine

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

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

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

“That was a horrible shot,” he said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Watch this.”

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

“Shoot.”

And it landed perfectly.

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

❋

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

"Do you like storms?" You asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yoongi..."

"Yes?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Alright, time for bed."

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

❋

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You must miss him then.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t know what you mean.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart stammers, “But Taehyung…”

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

“Do you love him?”

“W-What?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Part Ten

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

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

❋

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Final Part

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

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

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

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

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

“Would you like to join me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll miss you, Yoongi.”

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

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

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

“No.”

“Why don’t you ask for more.”

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

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

“No.”

“Is it him? Taehyung?”

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

He grows impatient, “Do you love him?”

You don’t waver, “No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My love, look at me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let’s talk about it after?”

“Mmm.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yoongi!”

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

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

“Uncover your eyes,” he orders deeply.

You whimper, begging for mercy.

“Look. At. Me.”

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

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

“How do you feel, lovely?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry. It just feels so good.”

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

“Squeeze,” he pleads and you oblige.

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

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

“Now you’re just bragging!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is this better, Y/N?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongi!”

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

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

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

“A lot,” you complain.

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

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

“Yoongi?”

“Yes?”

“I need to go home tomorrow.”

His heart sinks, “Oh?”

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

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

“And… to turn down Taehyung’s proposal in person.”

Yoongi looks down and can’t see your face but he’s imagined it’s worried. “Y-Yeah?”

“Yeah. And Yoongi?”

He waits. You speak again, “Do you really want to be with me? For me to stay?”

“More than anything.”

He feels the tug of your cheeks on his chest; a wide smile.

“Then I’ll need to get my stuff.” And that makes him want to cry. After traumatic betrayal and years of loathing his punishment of isolation, he’s finally being let out of his cage. Free to be with someone that cares for him as much as he cares for you.

Your last thoughts remain on the fire and how it’s the only other entity to to swallow your talks, plans and confessions. Of his feathers like his arms as they fold in comfortably next to you, feeling like they’re meant to be there. Like you really were fated to be skin-to-skin with this man in his manor. Entwined by trust and love and an unprecedented future that would be everything as long as he’s in it. An irony of a useless girl and flightless wings.

Yoongi watches you fall under, wiping his thumb over your lips, trailing it down your chin and covering your naked body with his wing. Slumber finds him soon after, mind stuck on his self-epiphany that he had to lose his wings to gain you, and how incredibly lucky he is to have it that way.

a/n: ahAhaA, i’m sorry. please feel free to let me know what you think.

❋ masterlist ❋

[waywardwrestlewritingwaif]

The Guardian’s Oath, Part Three

In order to make any sense of this, you’ll want to read Part One and Part Two. 

Thanks to everyone who’s read/ commented/ liked so far! My guess is that this section *maybe* represents the halfway point, although possibly a little less. I feel like I’m on the clock here since there’s at least one more “seasonal” (Halloween-type-theme) story I’m working on. 

Hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Feargal Devitt/ Finn Balor x OFC

Word count: 4,734

Content advisory: None. 

"Is everything alright, Miss? I thought I heard you cry out." 

Kate's voice startled me when I came back inside. 

"Oh yes, I'm sorry. I saw… there was a strange man at the gate just now but I told him to be on his way."

"A strange man?" She muttered something under her breath before continuing, "There's too many around this summer. You see tramps all the way down from Dublin with things being so hard there and it makes you feel like you're not safe in your own home."

"I hadn't thought of that. I assumed it was one of the village men."

Kate shook her head. "They're bad enough. But these city ruffians have a look that'll turn your blood cold."

"He was a peculiar looking fellow," I mused. "And there was certainly something about him that set my nerves on edge. But he's gone now."

I tried to sound confident but when I retired to my chambers for the night, I was haunted by visions of the dark man, filled with a foreboding that he meant harm to me or the children. During those few precious stretches when I was able to sleep, I dreamt of his pale eyes bearing down on me, of the man speaking to me without ever moving his lips. 

“I am coming,” he said, and nothing more. 

*

As the summer progressed, the children became more and more restless with their lessons. Although they did not associate much with the youngsters from town, they knew enough to be aware that schools had let out and that other children were free to spend their summers at play. I tried to keep them focused as much as possible but I found myself giving in to their wishes to go outside and, in particular, to go for long walks along the shore. 

I had become accustomed to the constant roll of the ocean in my new home but I still felt a little intimidated being next to what seemed like an endless expanse. In theory, I knew that there was land in the distance but the fact that I could not see it made me feel like it was a fantasy, as much as the monsters that the children told me of. 

“Miss Miles, can we please go around the point today?” William whined at me. 

For weeks, he had been begging me to circle around the tip of the beach crescent, around to the area just below the place where we had had our picnic. He could tell that each request was wearing me down just a little but I felt that he had reached my core and that I could not yield. The area was rocky and uneven, some of it barely above water even at low tide. I knew that, while he might be able to skip through it with impunity, I couldn’t hope to keep pace and could easily slip and injure myself, at which point I would be no help at all to him or his sister. 

“William, I’ve told you before, if we come to the beach, we stay on the sands,” I grumbled, irritable from a bad night’s sleep. “It’s too dangerous to risk going farther.”

“But there are caves! I want to go and look inside them!”

“My word is final and you know perfectly well that your father would agree with me.”

I remained nervous that the children could damage my position by complaining that I’d treated them unfairly, so I’d taken to invoking their father when I needed to enforce discipline. It worked in this case, as it always did, although every time I refused him his adventure, I could see William’s expression growing more frustrated and angrier. 

The three of us took our dinner together, William still sulking. 

“How did your family die?” he blurted as we waited on dessert. 

“Willam, be quiet,” Sophia hissed. “You’ve no right to ask her such questions.”

At the same time, I saw her dark eyes cut back to me for an instant, as if she wanted to see how I’d react without her intervention. I was exhausted and knew that no real harm could come of sharing my story. I even thought that it might generate some sympathy in them. 

“My mother died giving birth to my younger brother,” I informed them coolly. “My father loved her very much and after she died… his health began to deteriorate.”

I knew enough to avoid telling the whole truth in this case, namely that starting with my mother’s death, my father had started to drink heavily. This was not appropriate for children to hear. Then again, I mused, it was not appropriate for a child to experience. 

“He was a schoolteacher and as his health declined, he was forced out of work,” I continued. 

“So you were paupers?” Sophia asked sharply. 

“We were not so bad off. My father had some meagre savings that supported us, and he was able to take on some work tutoring.”

“Where is your brother now?” William now seemed more curious than resentful. 

I inhaled deeply. 

“My brother died when he was hardly more than a baby.”

“Was he sickly? What did he die of?”

I was not expecting the barrage of personal questions but I understood them to an extent. I likely could have scolded them and told them that they were being presumptuous. Instead, I cast my eyes down at the table and spoke. 

“He just died. No one could ever determine why. He went to sleep one night and never woke up.”

“How mysterious!” Sophia exclaimed. 

“I suppose so,” I responded softly. “After his death, my father’s health grew even worse. He grew weaker and eventually, he died too.”

“As a result of his illness?”

“He took a kind of a turn. I think he must have felt dizzy and he fell and hit his head. He died a few days later from the injury.”

“That’s horrid,” Isabella gasped. “You were left all alone!”

“Not quite all alone,” I answered with a smile. “My church took me in and made sure that my needs were met. They also made sure that I was educated enough to be able to take on a position as governess. And here I am with you.”

Sophia frowned a little. “Do churches in your area normally do that?”

“I suppose I was lucky that this one was very generous.”

The truth was that their generosity had always confused me. When I was very young, I didn’t understand why anyone should be so kind to me. As I grew older, I appreciated it more but I understood that this was not something that was normally practiced. Perhaps I had been lucky enough to be born in an especially generous parish. Perhaps the reverend there had seen some potential in me from the beginning, for he was always my champion and closest ally. I only knew that I had fared better than another in my situation could hope to. 

We all retired early, our lungs full of ocean air that soothed the brain. I read to the children from a book of fables that didn’t seem to bore them too much and was relieved when they declared themselves exhausted after just a few minutes. 

I said my prayers that night remembering my family and hoping that they had made their way to Heaven. 

At around one, I was awakened by Kate, who was in a panic. It took me a moment for me to get her to speak coherently. 

“It’s the young Master,” she sobbed. “He’s run off. She says she doesn’t know where he’s gone.”

The word “she” was said with a level of suspicion and anger that surprised me. I knew she was speaking of Sophia and that she had some dark opinions on the young Devitts, but it hardly seemed a tone appropriate to speaking of a child.

“How long has he been gone?”

“About ten minutes ma’am. I ran out to see if I could catch him because he’s run off to hide in the woods as a game before, but I couldn’t see him anywhere.”

I started to gather some clothes so that I could at least make a pretense of being presentable. 

“Was the back gate unlocked?”

“It was, although I can’t say for certain if that was done tonight.”

The two of us descended the stairs, looking out at the trees whipped around by the wind. I was aware that Sophia trailed after us but I was annoyed at her for her refusal to divulge where her brother had gone, even though I was certain she knew. 

“Kate, did you see him go in the direction of the woods?” I asked, another idea springing to mind. 

“I did not… I just assumed that since he’d gone before…”

“He’s not back there,” I told her. “He’s gone down to the water to look at the caves.” I spun to face Sophia. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

She pursed her lips, looking genuinely shocked that I had figured out the answer so quickly.

“The caves?” Kate exclaimed. “But it’s high tide! He’ll be pulled out to sea!”

“Kate, I need you to go to all the houses nearby. Wake them and tell them that you need to form a search party for Master William and tell them we think that he’s near the ocean. They can cover the ground over land in case he’s taken that route. I’m going to go down to the beach to see if I can find him there.”

“But it’s not safe!”

“It will be fine,” I assured her, far from convinced myself. “I should be able to catch him before he makes his way around the point. Hopefully, he’ll turn back on his own when he sees the water but at least I can move much faster than he does.”

Without waiting for another word, I bolted from the house, rushing down to the beach and almost falling several times. The tide was at its highest point, almost reaching the top of the rocks where William liked to collect his specimens. Even at a distance, I could see that the point of the crescent, where WIlliam would have to go in order to access the caves on the other side, was covered in water up to its vertical rise. And well ahead of me along the beach, I could see a small figure skipping along the rocks. 

“William!” I screamed, starting after him as quickly as I could. “William, stop! It’s too dangerous!”

The wind whipping off the water was too much for my voice to carry, so I continued after him as quickly as I could go, confounded that his tiny legs seemed to carry him at almost the same pace. It took me some time to close any distance between us and I was still too far behind for him to hear me calling after him. 

As he approached the end of the beach, I saw him pause and peer forward, as if he were following someone and questioning the wisdom of going further. I tried to call out his name even louder but I grew winded very quickly. 

It seemed like insanity, even for a child, but William waded out into the water, making his way towards the point. I trembled at the thought that in order to catch up with him, I would have to do the same, already imagining the weight of my clothing and the tug of the current on my legs. 

He clung as close as he could to the shore and began to gingerly make his way around the turn. Once he slipped, the rocks beneath his feet doubtless slick and deadly, but he resurfaced a second later, scrabbling his way up to the side of the rock and clinging to it as he made his way around and out of my sight. 

Terrified, I realized that in order to have any hope of overtaking him before the danger became worse, I would have to take a diagonal route, walking through the water rather than moving along the shore. I had never in my life ventured into the ocean but the need to rescue my young charge was greater than my fear. I waded out until the water reached my thighs and fought my way with all my strength. As I approached the point of the crescent beach, I stumbled, almost getting pulled under and soaked to my chest but I persevered, making my way forward until I saw the gouges in the earth that formed the caves William so wanted to see. 

As I approached the first one, I heard screaming over the wind and made my way towards it. Indeed it was William, ghost white and terrified, begging for help. 

“I can’t swim!” he shrieked. 

Of course, I couldn’t swim either, but I wasn’t about to say that. 

“I’m coming William!” I cried out, fighting my way towards him. “We’ll be safe soon!”

By the time I reached him, cowering on a ledge inside the cave, my lungs were burning from exertion. I gathered him up in my arms but my grip was weak. I was gasping and desperately trying to keep hold of him and I could tell from the look on his face that my demeanor was doing nothing to inspire confidence. Despite the cold of the water, my entire body felt like burning coals wrapped in skin. Truthfully, having made it this far, I wasn’t certain I could guide us to safety but I knew I had a better chance than the boy had on his own. And, although I felt shame at the thought as soon as it occurred to me, if I were to leave and focus only on saving myself, there was the chance that he would survive and be able to tell others that I had abandoned him. 

I wrapped my arm around him and crept forward to the mouth of the cave. I glanced over my shoulder, wondering if we might be safer heading further back, into the darkness behind us but there was no way to tell how far back the cave went, if there was a drop, or how deep the water was. So I clung as best I could to the rocky surface with my free hand, trying not to give into the panic I felt hearing William scream and cry. 

The rocks under my feet were slick and treacherous and more than once I slipped, sending both of us under the water and forcing me to expend more precious energy fighting back to the surface. After the second such accident, William ceased to cry and seemed to grow heavier. He coughed and spluttered and I found myself shaking him violently in the hopes of making him cough up the ocean water he’d swallowed. Eventually, though, I became so focused on getting back to the shore that it was all I was aware of. 

Rather than head back around the point and risk the strong current there, I took the shortest route and headed for the land nearest the caves. I remembered from our picnic on the cliff above that it was narrower and rockier but I didn’t believe I had the strength to carry William much further. I knew that there was some kind of path up because the children had taken it the day of our picnic. But I was certain what shape it would be in or how accessible it would be with the high tide. 

I felt like it took me hours to reach the point where the land rose above the water. The path up was difficult to mount but I somehow managed it, all the while pulling my young charge along. Although I managed to get us on to some semblance of solid ground, the soil there was loose and slid around, frustrating my attempts to crawl to safety. William whimpered and whined, for I was at this point dragging him like a sack behind me. I had to pause every few steps just to get more air into my body and because I felt too exhausted to continue. I gave some anguished sobs myself, desperate and furious that this boy had put us both in danger. 

About halfway up the hill, I saw some lights and thought I heard voices. I waited a moment, afraid that I was imagining things but the sights and sounds persisted and it occurred to me that there were people there: Kate had gone to raise the alarm with our neighbors and she would have sent them to the place where she knew I had headed. 

“Help us!” I cried as loudly as I could manage. I knew I was nowhere near loud enough to be heard over the wind but knowing how close rescue was, my body refused to move further up the path. “For the love of God, help us!”

I stayed in place, clinging to William and holding him close to my body in order to share what little warmth I had. I continued to scream, my voice growing louder as some of my strength returned. Although his glassy eyes told me that he had no idea what was going on, William was roused by my voice and then joined me in my calls for help. As I reached what I truly felt might be my last breath, I saw a couple of faces appear above us. I raised my arm weakly and hollered in the hopes that they would notice us. 

“They’re here!” a man’s voice cried out. 

I felt my body slump as I realized that we’d been seen. I clung as tight as I could to William and felt my head tip back. Although I never lost consciousness, I was only dimly aware of what was going on as the men descended and gathered us up to bring us back to safety. There was a cacophony of voices offering praise to God, trying to evaluate our health, barking orders on where to take us. 

Finally, one familiar voice cut through them all. 

“Oh my heavens, Miss Miles,” Kate cried, “you are a saint.”

I felt filthy and waterlogged and pain ripped through every tissue of my body. I felt like nothing like a saint but her praise felt better and more genuine than anything I had been told in my life. I tried to smile but even the muscles of my face felt heavy and I don’t know that I managed more than a twitch of my lips. 

The rescue party conveyed us all back to Wynn Cottage, throwing rugs and blankets over us as they did. I heard Kate giving orders and was quietly impressed at how her sweet, matronly demeanor changed when leadership was needed. When we reached the cottage, the group split into two. One part hurried up the stairs with William, yelling that the doctor was needed. Another group carried me to the kitchen, where Susan was standing over a washing basin filled with hot water. 

I was surprised, in light of her often grouchy mood, to see that her eyes were red from crying and that she reached out to grab hold of my hand as soon as the men brought me close to her. She held onto it hard and a strange mix of prayers and praise flowed from her lips. 

“Thank you, thank you,” Kate muttered, fighting her way to the front of the crowd. “Now please leave us, we have to get her into the bath to warm her up. Give us some privacy please.”

The men shuffled out of the kitchen and I immediately felt Kate and Susan working at the buttons of my dress. Their movements were frantic enough that a few buttons were torn clean off. Each time that would happen, I heard Susan assure us that she would take care of it. When they finally removed the last of my drenched clothing, I saw Susan gather everything up and grab the errant buttons off the floor before disappearing. Kate helped me step into the basin and lowered me into the hot water. 

It was painful, for my skin felt like I was being poached in the heat, but she stroked my hair and soothed me, assuring me that this was what I needed. 

“You’ve done more than was ever asked of you,” she told me. “You are that boy’s guardian angel and everyone in this place is going to hear of what you did for him.”

Gently, she laid my head against the edge of the basin and I looked up at her, able to focus my eyes for the first time since my rescue. 

“Thank you,” I croaked, my voice cracking with the effort of speaking. “You’re too kind.”

She huffed and shook her head. “The Young Master deserves a hiding for sneaking out that way. You are a truly godly woman and there’s not many that would have done what you did, putting your own life in danger to save him.”

I remembered that moment in the cave when I had considered abandoning William for an instant and shame washed over me. 

Some voices came from the landing above and Kate frowned a little. 

“I suppose I’m needed up there,” she sighed. “Can you hold yourself up if I go? You won’t slip under the water?”

“I’m fine,” I promised her. “Go and tend to the boy and make sure he has what he needs.”

I thought that she was going to repeat her assertion that what he needed was a hiding but she simply shook her head and left the kitchen. 

My body had adjusted to the temperature and I could feel myself relaxing. Fatigue was so heavy on me that I did need to keep a firm grip on the sides of the basin to avoid sinking to the bottom. How ironic it would be, I thought mirthlessly, to have escaped a watery ocean death only to drown in a tub of water here. 

The oil lamp that had been left to give me some light flickered a little and I wondered if there might be a draft. I couldn’t feel anything on my skin but in my state, I couldn’t be sure of anything that was happening. The lamp seemed to grow dimmer and the shadows in the room drew closer. It was my exhausted mind toying with me, I told myself. I couldn’t trust my senses under such circumstances. 

Nevertheless, a current of fear ran through me, making me feel more awake and alert than I had in hours. And as I looked around the room, I saw a figure emerge from the shadows, the low lighting casting a sheen over its dark skin and illuminating its pale eyes. It advanced until it reached the edge of the basin where I lay, helpless, its long tongue flicking over sharpened teeth like a predator discovering injured prey. 

I wanted to scream but there was no air in my lungs and my lips refused to open. My whole body was paralyzed, so that I could not escape or fight him. His face was familiar but I could not remember from exactly where. But while I was certain I had encountered him before, I knew immediately that he had not been in this form, this demonic shape, nude with an oily hide, black mottled with red and white, a deranged grin and eyes that seemed to hold me in thrall. 

Unable to move though I was, I quickly realized that I was not unable to feel. As he leaned over the edge of the tub, he took hold of my foot and lightly dragged one clawed finger along the sole. The sensation made me shiver, made me want to thrash around to free myself, but I could do none of those things. Grinning, he dipped his head low and stuck his tongue into the bathwater like a cat at a saucer of milk. Then in one smooth motion he tightened his grip on my ankle and pulled my leg forward, immediately pulling my upper body under the water. 

I wanted to push myself up again. I wanted to wriggle free of his grip. I wanted to run from him. But my body would do none of this. Instead, I was forced to feel the air escaping my lungs, to feel the desperation and panic grow in me as I realized that I could not reach the surface. At the same time, I felt the tip of the demon’s tongue touch the instep of my foot and trail a hot path over my calf. I could feel its cruel smile against my skin as it made its way higher, until its mouth came to rest at the back of my knee. There was a sharp pain as he bit down on the flesh there and I wanted to cry out but had no power to do. 

At that moment, his touch was gone and I was trapped under the water unable to move. A second later, a clawed hand grabbed a handful of my hair and jerked me back into a sitting position. I gasped, drawing in as much air as I could, touching my skull where I’d felt hairs ripped out. My body was my own again but as I surveyed the kitchen, I saw that I was alone. Had I imagined everything? Had it all just been some fevered hallucination? 

I looked at the skin under my knee and found a red mark where he had bitten me, however, as I prodded it with my finger, the mark disappeared and the flesh looked normal once again. For the first time since the demonic figure had appeared, I heard noises coming from upstairs in the house. People were bustling around, Kate was giving instructions, there were footsteps everywhere. I stayed in the tub for as long as I could stand, feeling the water grow cooler against my skin. Susan had left some towelling for me and I wrapped myself in it as I emerged from my bath, relishing the sensation of the soft fabric. 

I stood there, wrapped up, before the oven for some time, lost in thought, before Kate came back into the kitchen. 

“Oh bless you, miss,” she exclaimed. “We didn’t even remember you here.”

“It’s all right. I’m warm and I’m dry now.”

“After all you’ve done, it’s a poor return on our part to leave you all alone.”

“Kate, I’m fine.” Instinct told me that I should keep my demonic vision to myself. “If you could fetch me my nightdress, I would be most obliged.”

She hurried out of the kitchen, still fretting and returned only moments later with my gown. She helped me into it, as my arms ached so much I could barely lift them. 

“Is Master William safe?” I asked timidly. 

“He’s better than he deserves to be. He’s asleep in bed as if nothing happened.”

“I was a bit rough with him,” I admitted. “I was worried that I might have injured him on the way back.”

“A few scrapes and bruises is all. And it’s no less than he deserves.”

“You mustn’t be too harsh on him. Children are adventurous at that age, especially boys.”

She shook her head, guiding me up the stairs. “I have three brothers and let me tell you that all of them knew that if they’d run off like that, the cuts they got from the rocks would have been the least painful part of the experience.”

I smiled weakly and hugged her as she helped me into the bed. 

“We all need to sleep,” I told her, “yourself very much included. I don’t want to hear you up and about at the usual hour. You rest as long as you can.”

“You’re too kind, ma’am.”

“Nonsense. It’s the very least I can do after all your work tonight.”

As she left the garrett, I saw that she turned and looked back at me for a moment. “God bless you and keep you,” she whispered. 

I was quickly asleep, however, I woke up periodically, convinced that I felt a hand on my cheek or my throat, or that an unseen figure was hovering nearby, waiting. 

[loveafterthefact]

Love After the Fact Chapter 70: Making Long-Distance Calls

Tfw you haven’t heard from your kid in a while and part of you is really worried and the other part of you wants to kill him yourself to save your enemies the trouble… and then that mf just says he ‘forgot’.

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“Okay, so do you two see each other?” Lance asks.

“I see a Balmeran.” Thace cocks his head curiously. “Quite different from the race that I am familiar with- Ulaz! Get out! Patient confidentiality!” There’s a snicker in the background, followed by a door opening and closing.

“Excellent!” Lance chirps, typing in another code, waiting for it to pick up. “Tavo, are you there?”

“I am here. Hello, your Majesties. Crown Prince Lancel, I've heard the kings are quite bitter that they have not heard from you.”

“Oh, fuck.” The prince pales, then brushes it off. “I need to call them anyway. They can scold me for spending too much time in the sun or not wearing socks.”

Keith glances at his mate, noting his darker complexion, the little brown spots creeping from underneath his skin. An Altean, blessed by Daibazaal’s sun. It’s perfect. He’s perfect.

Keith really needs to reboot his brain.

“So what are we here for, then?” Tavo asks, pulling his chair closer to his desk.

“We’re planning on having a kit,” Keith says, cutting right to the chase. He’s already done too many of these calls this quintant.

“I see. How soon do you expect to conceive?” Tavo accesses his desktop, fingers sliding over the glass table.

“I go into season in a few quintants- Shut up, Thace.” The medic scowls, shaking his head in silent disapproval.  “I will hopefully conceive sometime in the following movement.”

“Understood. What are your concerns?” The Altean medic casts his dark eyes around the group.

“Nutrition, complications at any point during pregnancy, and predicting needs of the kit once born,” Thace clarifies. “Your majesties, we can carry this conversation without you.”

“You can,” Lance agrees. “But you won’t.” Keith smiles, delighted by his mate’s enthusiasm. “All we want, for today, is to make considerations regarding how we help Keith -and the baby- stay healthy. Starting with nutrition.”

“Right. Excellent.” Thace pulls up several holographic panels. “In your particular case, your Majesty, nutrition is definitely where we need to begin. Your metabolism is extremely fast for a Galra.”

“Is it?” Hunk asks. “Alteans have high metabolisms, but I’ve just been making as much as Keith will eat.”

“Your average Galra consumes roughly one sixth the amount of calories that Kei- Prince Yorak requires to maintain his current condition. That amount in turn does not account for growth spurts, season, pregnancy, or any increase in muscle mass. Basically, anything more than the normal amount of physical output creates strain upon his body that our species is not naturally equipped to deal with.

We’re meant to go for a long time on nothing. Prince Yorak goes for a short time, and only on a great deal.”

“Basically, how do you keep me and a fetus alive and healthy without stuffing me like one of those weird birds you people always eat,” Keith clarifies. “I’ll be stuffed enough.”

“Damn right you will,” Lance snickers. Keith promptly whacks him with the back of his hand with a scolding, while Thace chokes on a laugh and Tavo shakes his head in disappointment.

“Well, my wife is going into labor any dobosh now, so let’s get to work on some meal ideas and then I’m gonna duck out.” Hunk grins. “Your Majesties must come visit once he’s born.”

“We wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Keith promises. “Let’s get to work!”

“Okay! So for the sake of this discussion… Let’s divide nutrient sources into three categories: proteins, fats, and carbs. Carbs should further be divided into starches and cellulose. During pregnancy, you may require more fruits and vegetables as Alteans are primarily vegetarian, so we’ll need to ensure a balanced diet both for you and a your hybrid fetus-”

It takes two vargas to come up with some kind of meal plan, which will probably change a million times anyway, but at least it gives them something to work with -and gives the princes headaches, but whatever-. It’s worth it, and Lance knows it will relieve some of Keith’s anxiety.

“Well, if we’re done, I’d better head out. Rosie is being an absolute monster today, so-”

“Just one thing.” All eyes fall to Keith. “We’re keeping this quiet. There are too many risks to say anything until we’re sure there’s a chance of having a viable fetus. Basically, all of this is a secret until I say otherwise.”

“Understood.” Hunk bows his heads. “We look forward to seeing you home, your Majesties. Farewell.”

“Farewell,” the princes chorus.

“On to complications, then.” Thace decides. “Complications include embryotic miscarriage, fetal miscarriage, stillbirth, birth defects, underdevelopment, excessive bleeding, parasitic placental syndrome-”

“I’m sorry. What did you just say?” Lance leans forward, visibly horrified. Tavo lifts an eyebrow. Apparently, the Altean royal physician hasn’t heard of this either.

“Parasitic placental syndrome. It’s a condition in Galra where the placenta takes an excessive amount of nutrients from the bearer, resulting in malnourishment, miscarriage, premature stillbirth, and extreme malnourishment. Basically, the placenta starves the bearer until they eventually cannot support the fetus.

“In Prince Yorak’s case-”

“It could be fatal,” Keith finishes. “Which brings us to a touchy subject: If it comes down to it, do you save me, or the kit? The answer is me.”

“You’re sure?” Tavo asks.

“Yes. It’s selfish to die for one life, when I have the potential to carry many more.” Keith looks to Lance for his opinion, if the Altean wants to give one. Lance just kisses his cheek.

“Up to you, beloved. But I’d like to have you as a part of my family if at all possible.”

Keith smiles at his mate, brushes a bit of starlight hair away from his face. “Me too.”

“You guys are so cute,” Thace sighs. “Also, total dorks.”

Tavo frowns. “Your Majesties, is this man some kind of prince, to speak so informally to you?”

“No, that’s just Thace. He has no respect for authority unless Daibazaal is in crisis mode.” Keith rolls his eyes, even as his lips curl with the edge of a small smile.

“Bitch, I have five kits. I am the authority.”

“FIVE?” Tavo chokes. “Five children???”

“Oh, yeah.” Thace smirks, clearly enjoying messing with the Altean medic. “Granted three of them are triplets, but… I think that just makes it more impressive.”

Tavo turns to the princes. “Your Majesties, surely this… degenerate is not the only reproductive authority on Daibazaal.”

“No, but he is the best. And my species is suspected to have at least four kits within the span of a decaphoeb, and encourage to have between six and eight. Some have even more.” Keith smiles. “Thace is the best in his field, and he has an intimate understanding of my growth disorder. There is no one I’d trust more with my life during such a critical time. And…

“I’ve not spent much time with you, Tavo, but I know your reputation well, and trust me when I say that you both have a great deal to learn from each other. I can see you two doing amazing things together.” The smile turns to an imperious stare. “Regardless, I expect you both to work together and be nice to each other. If I hear otherwise, I’ll kick your asses.”

The two medical professionals grumble their assent, Thace insulted and Tavo wary but abashed.

“Right,” Keith sighs. “Now, back to our discussion… There’s not really a whole lot to be done about any of those things.”

“Yes, but you should understand the symptoms,” Thace explains. “Bleeding, cramping, contractions, gastrointestinal distress, pain in the lower abdomen, fatigue, rapidly increasing fatigue, etc., etc. I’ll send along some resources on general self care and rearing that you both should read as.”

“Naturally.” Lance grins, puts his arm around Keith's shoulders. “We’re learning together. Right, beloved?”

“Absolutely.” Keith smiles. “Thanks for your time, guys. Thace, we’ll see you quite soon. Tavo, I imagine we’ll see you in a few movements.”

“Indeed you will, your Majesties. You’ll need to receive a health check upon your return from Daibazaal anyway before you are exposed to anyone on Altea. Our planet has far more stringent protocols for entry than Daibazaal does.”

“Understood. We’ll see you then.” Lance waves as the Altean signs off. It’s just them and Thace.

“I’ll come by your den when you return. I want to give you a once-over before your season. Which is extremely close, by the way. I recommend you return here by tomorrow night.” Thace looks Keith up and down. “You seem relatively relaxed, so I doubt it’ll be tonight.”

Keith nods, agreeing with his medic. He feels relaxed, now that his problem with Lance has been resolved. But before long, he’ll get restless, and generally uncomfortable, and he knows it. But he also knows he has Lance, and Lance will help him keep comfortable and safe. Everything will be fine.

As they say their goodbyes to Thace, however, he braces himself for an entirely different kind of conversation.

“So.” Coran sips his tea. The aging Altean’s sitting sideways on the loveseat in their quarters, legs thrown over his husband’s lap. It’s been a habit of theirs almost as long as they’ve been together. “What excuse will they give?”

“Hm…” Alfor pretends to think, massaging Coran’s knee, moving in circles to help ease the pain. Old injuries are the worst, especially when you get old yourself. “Probably ‘We were busy’ or ‘We just forgot’.” The king sighs. “I didn’t expect them to call, to be honest.Our boy’s grown up.”

“He’s been grown up for a while now, dearest.”

“A person’s not grown until they act grown. But I suspect Lancel has been grown for a while now, and just didn’t want anyone to know.”

“Probably.”

A long pause of silence-

“I’m going to call them.” Alfor gently removes his husband’s legs from his lap, reaches for his datapad.

“Darling, don’t you think-”

“I should let them be? No, I do not. They are on Daibazaal, a planet crawling with enemies-”

“Dear…”

“... Crawling with people who are not fond of my family, including and perhaps especially our son and heir?” Alfor types in Lance’s comms code.

“Better.” The red-haired man smiles at his husband, appreciative of his efforts.

“Father! Believe it or not, we were just about to call you!”

“Hello, son!” Coran smiles at the happy face before him. He’s missed his child. Alfor has too, though he hasn’t said it. “Good to see you’re both still alive!”

Alfor, for once, chooses the softer approach. “You look well. Both of you.”

They do indeed. Keith seems a little taller now, his frame a bit more robust. Lance’s skin has darkened, freckles creeping over his nose.

“We’re doing quite well here,” Keith agrees. “I’ve touched base with several contacts from within the Compound and surrounding villages. Lance has established himself as a respectable mate and warrior, thanks to his excellent conduct and impressive displays of mettel.”

Coran raises an eyebrow. “So… You’re as well-behaved as we would expect you to be, and you’ve also managed to get into some trouble. Sound about right?”

“Pretty much,” Lance admits, slightly sheepish. “I am every bit the model guest, and I also squared off against a kronil and saved a dying wolf cub with alchemy. Y’know, normal stuff.”

“A kronil. Really?” Alfor leans back. “Well now, that is impressive.” Especially given his boy’s struggles with combat and alchemy. Alfor smiles, proud of his son, delighted with the giddy pride on his son’s face.

“Now.” Alfor settles back next to Coran, throwing an arm over the back of the loveseat. “I was calling to guilt you for dropping off the edge of the star system. Why were you calling?”

The couple exchanges a glance. “We’re not… entirely sure. We’ve found something, and it could be nothing at all, or something very serious,” Lance explains.

Alfor frowns. It must be serious if Lance wants to tell him about it. There’s really only one thing he knows more about that his son: violence. “I see… What have you found?”

Keith explains the various falsified ship inspection records, where the shipments came from, and what it might mean. Alfor listens, nods. It’s a serious matter, and the boys are taking it very seriously. Both of them.

“So let me see if I understand this correctly,” he says when they’ve finished. “These ships with extra cargo bypassed inspection somehow, and come from planets that help supply the Galra with food, medicine, and raw materials?”

“Yes.” Keith leans forward, brushing a lock of loose hair over his shoulder. “These shipments could be one of two things: smugglers, looking to make a profit by supplying the Galra on Daibazaal with resources not typically available to them in large quantities, or they’re supplying a militia that may be looking to overthrow the Imperial family and name a champion, and/ or invade Altea.

“Neither of our peoples want this,” Keith stresses, staring earnestly at the king. “My people want peace. They have already chosen Lotor as their Champion upon his father’s death or retirement.”

“What exactly does it mean for him to be the Champion?” Alfor asks, unfamiliar with the term.

“Well, you know how there’s the Kral Zera?” Keith asks. Alfor nods. “Even though anyone can participate, the people can petition to choose a Champion, at which point most challengers would back down and allow the Champion to light the flame unhindered.”

“So Lotor is… the Successor Elect?” Alfor clarifies.

“Yes. He argues for strengthening and uniting the empire, instead of continuing to expand. This means more resources available to the commonwealth both here and abroad, as well as better foreign relations with conquered planets and external societies.”

“I see… Some would take issue with this?”

Keith nods. “Some are bitter that my uncle agreed to this alliance. They feel as though they have been cheated. Your people are comparatively few, but formidable. They are one of the reasons that same sex coupling is currently illegal. They don’t produce kits, and so would be considered traitors. Others are simply angered that the atrocities they were ordered to commit came to nothing, that their sacrifices and losses did not lead to victory.”

“So you believe these shipments are supplies being moved by rebels staging a coup?”

“We believe…” Keith rolls his lips between his teeth, tugs on the ends of some of his hair. “We should be prepared for every eventuality. Please understand,” he whispers. “I want so badly for this to never be our problem, but I love my people, just as surely as you love yours. I would do anything for them.”

Alfor sighs through his nose, nods. “I will begin working on plans should Daibazaal face a threat from within. In that case, we would need to split our assets between defence and military assistance, followed by relief efforts. When you return, we can look at them together.”

“Speaking of which, when do you intend to return? Some time this decaphoeb, perhaps?” Coran asks, still a little miffed that his son hasn’t kept in touch.

“Three movements. Keith’s about to go into season, and Thace wants us to stay two movements to keep an eye on him. Just in case of any complications.”

Lance lies so smoothly, Alfor almost doesn’t see the excited glint in his son’s eyes. He chooses not to mention it. He’ll let their life together be as private as they like. Nothing else ever is for a royal couple. Instead, he smiles.

“You’re both doing wonderfully. Keep up the good work, and we’ll see you in a few movements.”

Lance bows his head. “Thank you, Father. Dad.”

Coran waves away his thanks. “Just come home, lads. That’s all we ask. We love you.”

“We will,” Lance affirms. His father signs off without another word, only a fond smile -a small miracle in and of itself-, and Lance throws himself back against the tree with a loud huff.

“I agree,” Keith murmurs, settling against him with a yawn.

Lance puts an arm around him immediately. “Is this normal sleepiness, or season-related sleepiness?”

“Not sure, but we’re just gonna go with it, okay?”

Lance smiles, brushing a thumb across Keith’s cheekbone. The Galra sighs, settling in to sleep. “Sometimes I think the only reason you’re keeping me is to have something to lay on.”

“Hmph. Bed’s never poked me with it’s dick-” Lance gasps, playfully scandalized. “-so that’s definitely not it. I keep you because you're cute.”

“I have never felt so betrayed in my entire life,” Lance teases.

“Shut up and cuddle with me,” Keith grumbles, wrapping his tail around Lance’s waist as he curls up against his chest. Lance chuckles, wraps him up in his arms. “Alfor still sucks. Just so we’re clear.”

“I know. Thanks for behaving.”

“Of course I behaved. He’s your father and you love him.”

“Yeah… I think he loves me, too.” The fact that Lance barely seems to believe it breaks Keith’s heart a little.

“Of course he does. And so do I.”

“I love you too.” Lance kisses his forehead. “Get some sleep.”

“No need to tell me twice.” Keith yawns, settling in to sleep through the warmth of the afternoon.

[blueboxesandtrafficcones]

The Royal Snow Day

Day 1 of 2020′s 31 Days of Ficmas.  Thanks to @doctorroseprompts for the list!

Prompt: Snowed in

Rating: M (nsfw)

Pairing: 12xRose AU; part of the Queen of Hearts universe

Summary: Rose’s first snowfall in Gallifrey exceeds her wildest dreams, as her royal fairytale continues.  The ensuing snow day leads to an unexpected, melancholy conversation.

2020 31 Days of Ficmas masterlist  |  Queen of Hearts masterlist

AO3

---

Beep.  Beep.  Beep.

“Oh, c’mon,” Rose whined, reaching out blindly to swat at the alarm.  “Fuckoff.”

Ian’s answering snicker said he was already awake, the sheets rustling as he spooned up behind her. “Good morning.”

“Too early.” Still, she snuggled back into his arms, reveling in his warmth.  “Mhmm.”

“Has it snowed, since you’ve been here?”  The kisses he pressed against her neck were thoroughly distracting, so much so she almost missed the question.

“No, why?”

Her husband merely chuckled, the arm around her waist squeezing her.  “Open your eyes.”

It took her a long moment to overpower the urge to curl into him and drift back to sleep, but when she finally did as he said, she was so glad she did.

“Oh!”

When they’d gone to bed the night before the sky had been clear, with trees as far as the eye could see, the Alps rising majestically in the distance.  When the leaves had started falling a month before, Rose had understood for the first time how drastically the elevation could change in her new home; for quite a ways into the distance the trees were bare, their leaves having changed and fallen, but behind them were evergreens, sloping up the side of the Alps until they stopped abruptly; past that point was nothing but whiteness climbing towards the sky.

Now, though- now, the sky was full of clouds, and the grounds looked like a winter wonderland. Everything was covered in snow, bright and cheerful despite the grey sky, and even as she watched, the flakes continued to fall.

It was spectacular, almost out of a movie, and she was surprised at the tears pricking her eyes. “You live like this?” she breathed in awe.  “Is this normal?”

The breath of Ian’s laugh was hot against her neck.  “Sometimes. More so in years past…  Definitely when I was a kid.  Used to be able to ice skate on the lake, even.  But d’you know what the best part of this is?”

“Oooh, snowball fight? Please say snowball fight!”

“No- I mean, sure, we can do that- but actually, until it stops and they’ve had time to start the cleanup, we’re stuck here.”

That was enough to tear Rose’s gaze from the window, and she twisted around to face him.  “We’re snowed in?”

He nodded, pushing some loose hair out of her face.  “For the time being.  No engagements with our public today, I’m afraid.  And since that was our whole schedule…”  One of his knees nudged at her own, and she obligingly lifted her top leg to let his slide between.  “Our day is wide open.  How would you like to spend it?”

“Honestly?”  When he nodded, she glanced back over her shoulder. “I’ve never seen so much snow in one place at one time.  I’d love to just… go out and play in it.  Snow angels, snowball fights…  You know, like you see in films.  Bet Sophia and Sebastian would like that- they’re still young enough I think.”

“That sounds like fun,” he agreed, smiling.  “When, now?”

Rose rolled onto her back, looking first towards the window and the picture-perfect snow, then to her husband, warm and naked beside her.  “Depends,” she said coyly.  “Is it better to sort of pre-warm up before we go out, or to wait until we come back in?”

“Hmmm…”  Ian settled himself above her, so close they were almost touching, but far enough away to mostly be a tease.  “Well, in my professional opinion as a doctor-” he paused to suck at her pulse point, “I would recommend both.  Some pre-activity to… get the blood flowing as it were, then once you’re back inside, a hot shower, maybe a soak in a steaming tub…”

“Is that so?” she drawled, letting her legs fall apart before tugging on his hips, encouraging him to lay flush against her.  “And would you recommend these as solo activities?”

The corners of his mouth turned up, but he hid it by kissing his way across her decolletage to the other side of her neck.  “Oh, no. It’s very important to always have a buddy with you,” he said earnestly.  “Someone to keep an eye on you… check for hypothermia, that sort of thing.”

Rose nodded, scraping her nails lightly along his spine, smirking when his hips jumped.  “Whatever you say, Doctor.”

He dipped his head, kissing her deeply, and she arched up against him in response.  Even after six months together she still got the same giddy feeling in her stomach, heart soaring at the merest taste of him, her very universe narrowing down to where they touched, the rest of the world be damned. It didn’t hurt knowing that he was equally affected by her, the evidence hot and throbbing against her thigh.

Yet the picture-perfect scene playing out on the other side of the glass called to her too, and though she tried to hide it, her husband knew her well enough at this point to sense her distraction.  To his credit, though, he was chuckling as he pulled back.

“Do you want to stop to watch the window?”

Biting her lip, Rose gave him a sheepish smile.  “No, I want you…”  She ran her hands down his back to his arse, squeezing for emphasis.  “But, maybe a change of position?  D’you mind?”

“Of course not.”  He backed away, sitting on his heels.  “And we don’t have to- I promise I’m just as happy holding you and watching the snow fall.”

Sitting up herself, she took a moment to look around before nodding decisively.  “Right.”  Nudging him out of the way, she positioned herself on her hands and knees in front of the window, before glancing back at him over her shoulder.  “Does this work?”

Ian was already slotting himself between her knees, one hand rubbing at her hip and thigh as the other brushed against her slit.  “Uh huh.” He met her eye as one long finger probed her opening.  “You’re supposed to be watching the snow.”

“Git.”  Facing forward again, she marveled at how the storm seemed to be picking up.  “I’m going to remember this.”

By the time they collapsed in a sweaty, sated pile, the view was a whiteout and second to the heat between them.

-

“This is absurd.”

Hands on his hips, Ian stared out the ballroom doors to the patio incredulously – or attempted to, given that their view consisted solely of snow.  Heavy, packed snow that covered the doors so thoroughly he wasn’t sure anything truly existed past them.

“It seems to be a snow drift, Your Majesties,” Jabe shrugged.  The manager of the grounds, it would be her team’s job to clear the snow, and he made a mental note to ensure they all got fat bonuses in their next check. “It’s not nearly so bad along the sides of the Palace, or necessarily the front, but it may take several days to clear the lakefront side or the drive.  In these conditions, we cannot even begin until it stops, and though it has slowed, we do not want to be caught out in it if it increases again. As it is, we will need to dig our way from the sides.”

“We’re really snowed in,” Rose breathed.  “I mean, this is…  Wow.”

Their hands tangled together, and even as Ian worried for his subjects, her childlike wonder warmed his heart more than he could say.  “The Queen would like to go out in it for a bit.  How do you recommend we do so?”

“Over my dead body, to start.”

He turned to see his aunt striding towards them, bundled in a thick jumper, eyes narrowed in their direction.

“I’m afraid she’s correct,” Jabe said, apologetic.  “At least, in her implication – it’s simply too dangerous at this time.  Several of my braver groundskeepers attempted to go out the front, and suffice it to say it did not go well.  The worst injury was a sprained wrist, and several bruised prides, but it was enough.  We cannot risk Your Majesties’ health or safety.”

“What about- and maybe this is stupid, I don’t have much experience with heavy snow- but like… climbing out a first-floor window?  It wouldn’t be too far down…” Rose trailed off as they stared at her.  “Never mind, just a thought.”

Ian smiled kindly at his wife.  “Perhaps if we were twenty, but I think we- or at least I- am too old for that.  And there’s no way of knowing how far you might sink into the drift.  I don’t want to have to call your mother and explain you drowned in snow.”

“Fair enough,” she agreed easily, squeezing his hand.  “Though, personally, I’d be more afraid of Donna.”

He shivered dramatically at the idea, making her giggle.  “Ooh, don’t make me think about it.  Very well, we surrender to our house arrest.  Is there any support we can offer to Arcadia, or the rest of the country?”

“No, not now.”  Sarah shook her head.  “When I saw the storm start last night I reached out to the Roadworks Department, but they were on top of the situation.  We’ll likely need to cut them a check for overtime as they certainly hadn’t budgeted for all this, expecially not as a one-time dumping at the start of the season, but that was all the support they need- at least for now.  The worst of it is here, along the lake- once you get a kilometer or so inland it’s not nearly so heavy.”

“That’s good,” Ian and Rose said in unison, before grinning at each other.

“Have you spoken to Donna?” he continued.  “I suppose this means they’ll need to extend their trip.”

Sarah nodded.  “She’s heartbroken at the delay of course,” she said dryly, “but will soldier through.  The children are thrilled to have another few days with their grandparents.”

Rose tensed next to him, but other than shooting her a curious look, he ignored it for the moment. “All right, I’ll give her a call in a bit.  Thanks for the update.  We’ll be up in our suite.  A hearty soup or stew is sufficient for dinner tonight, I think- something simple. I don’t see a need for anything non-essential to be done today, but I’ll leave it to your discretion.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” The women curtseyed as Ian turned to leave, tugging Rose along with him.

They walked in silence until they reached their bedroom, where he helped her out of her warm outerwear they’d optimistically put on.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”  Rose sank onto their couch, curling up in the corner and staring blankly at the fireplace.  “I’m fine.”

Biting back a sigh, he settled next to her, careful not to touch her.  “Rose.”

“I just… realized something I hadn’t thought about before.  It’s no biggie.”

“If you’re sure.”  He didn’t believe her, but didn’t want to push, knowing she would come to him when she was ready.  “Want another log on the fire?”

She didn’t answer but he did it anyway, enjoying the burst of sparks as the new log caught and started to burn.  She didn’t say anything when he draped the throw from the back of the couch over their laps, and she still didn’t speak as they watched the fire crackle and occasionally leap.

“My mum’s the only grandparent our children will know.”

He started at the sound of her voice, having been nearly hypnotized by the silence and the flames, and turned to look at her.  “Yes, she is,” he agreed cautiously.  “And I have no intention of trying to keep her from them, if that’s where this is going.”

“No, I know that, it’s just… I guess, I always thought I’d marry something with parents- someone who could give my kids a grandfather, someone who could… could almost be a father to me.  I say always, but it’s only really in the last decade or so once I got off the estate, but still.”

“I had a similar epiphany when my father died,” he shared tentatively.  “In amongst all the things I’d officially lost- never really had, I suppose- like my career and my freedom, I realized that… because I’d been concerned with my own wants, I missed out on the opportunity for my future wife and children to know my parents, and for them to know, well, you.  And our children.  To make them proud.  They were proud of my career, that I was helping people even if it wasn’t in the way they wanted- they thought I should have spent time learning how to rule at my father’s side- but… they wanted me to settle down, have a family.  I’m sorry they didn’t get the chance to see that, though I suppose if they had it wouldn’t have been with you, and that I cannot regret.  My point being- I know how you feel.”

Rose shifted on the couch, moving curl into his side.  “The real problem with all of this,” she sighed as she rested her head against his shoulder, “is that she’ll feel the need to make up for being the only one, and spoil our kids absolutely rotten.  I mean, at least your parents had Donna and knew the twins, but I’m all Mum’s got, so our family will be the sole focus of her grandmotherly love.”

He couldn’t help but smile stupidly at the idea.  “That’s all right, I suppose.  We’ll just have to have many children, to spread out the attention.”

Rose took his hand, lacing their fingers together.  “Depending on your definition of ‘many’, I agree.  But for now…”

“Yes?”  He watched her stand, taking a moment to admire her; the glow of the fire behind her made her seem ethereal, like some sort of goddess too good for the world blessing him with her presence.

She tugged on their joined hands, smiling coyly.  “I could use some warming up.  And this doctor I know says that body heat transmitted bare skin to bare skin is the most efficient way.”

“Well, if you insist…”

[kimkymury]

Blue Rose Tears - Chapter 10

Hey everyone, another chapter of Pascal x Carl fanfic is here, I can’t believe that we have reached chapter 10, thank you very much to everyone who is following and supporting the story.

I’d like to thanks @depressedoverdrawings​ for  for reviewing the history and help fixing grammatical errors.

Warning:  Just a little warning, some characters have distorted views about sexuality, and those views do not represent what I think in real life. This was written on purpose to suit the environment and the time that the story takes place, since at that time people were more closed minded.

The Portuguese Version of this story is avaliable on Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/971396659-as-l%C3%A1grimas-da-rosa-azul-cap%C3%ADtulo-10

Under the cut!

Chapter 10

P.O.V Narrator The sun was at the top of the sky, indicating that half the day had already passed. Only part of the way had been walked by the boys so far, and they seemed to be the only ones in that place. It didn't look like the same Lacombrade they always saw, it was too quiet. Usually there were several students hanging out outside the school after classes ended, but now the lonely landscape brought a feeling of freedom to Carl quite unlike anything he had ever felt, a strange blend of adrenaline, fear, and excitement. They took a shortcut through the forest in order to avoid being seen, as was likely if they walked through an open area. The journey to the greenhouse was done silently, as the religious boy apologized internally several times for his truancy. The older boy, who led the way, decided to start a conversation, so that he perhaps could calm down his friend's nerves.

"You surprise me sometimes." - The redhead spoke as he walked, catching the attention of the dark haired boy.

"What? How so?" - The youngest one asked, relieved that a conversation had started and that the deafening silence was broken.

"I thought spending time with Serge was what you wanted, but not only did you decline his offer, you also agreed to go to the greenhouse with me." - Pascal replied, smiling a little bit.

"I've never seen you take so many risks in such a short period of time." - He spoke again in the middle of a laugh, leaving his friend a little embarrassed.

Carl did not know how to respond. It was true that being with Serge had been his greatest wish for a while, but that didn't feel like such a great priority right now. It was strange, because the only thing he felt right now was the desire to spend more time with Pascal, which made him feel a little shy.

"I just thought it would be better to get away from him a little bit, until those unwanted feelings disappear." - The religious boy replied, dodging a branch that was in his way.

After a few minutes of walking, the two boys were in a clearing with a small dirt path to the greenhouse, which reflected the sunlight on its glass walls. The place was a contrast to most of Lacombrade, which used to be so cold, always with its gloomy atmosphere. It seemed that the greenhouse was a little piece of paradise on Earth, a place that felt almost otherworldly, so warm and welcoming it was. Entering the glass-walled room, the old surroundings, seen before so many times, still managed to impress the two friends. A great many plants fought for space, varying in colour and size, some falling over others, making the entire room messy yet comforting. What stood out most was a radiant pepper plant, which carried its long branches as high as it could. The sun shone behind the plant, making it look even more charming. Delighted at how long it took him to realize the beauty of that place he'd already frequented several times, the dark-haired boy touched the small peppers that reflected the sun, disappointed in himself for not having noticed the greenhouse's beauty before.

They did not feel like they were in an ordinary place, they didn't even feel as if they were still in Lacombrade Academy, nor did they feel they were doing something wrong. It was just the two of them before the dazzling beauty the greenhouse provided them. Spending the afternoon analyzing and picking different species of flowers was one of the Pascal's favorite pastimes, and even though Carl didn't quite agree with the activity, he understood why his friend enjoyed spending his time doing so. It was like a sanctuary, away from all the worries and uncertainties that the school's aura conveyed. It was a place to rest, think, or share a moment with someone special. Glad to finally be able to show Carl one of the reasons that always motivated him to escape classes, Pascal gives his friend a list of some species of flowers to be harvested, which ranged from roses to weeds. With his paper in hand, the religious boy starts walking slowly through the greenhouse, looking for exactly what was written, and taking the opportunity to admire the environment even more, noticing the small details that always went unnoticed.

Meanwhile, inside one of Lacombrade Academy's classrooms, the same one where the two boys had been hours before, their names were the subject of a conversation. It was only a few minutes before class started, and everyone was surprised that the Class Representative was not there. Some asked what happened, worried if something might have happened to him, others, more malicious, already imagined that he'd been led astray and followed the steps that some cute boys followed in the school.

"Did you saw Carl and Pascal after lunch?" - Serge asked the friends who sat next to him, they seemed curious and worried.

"We didn't see either of them, Pascal is probably busy working on his Blue Rose, but we have no idea where Carl might be." - Kurt replied, as Neka agreed with a gesture.

"He didn't look well, he was late in the morning, and now he doesn't come to class, what could have happened?" - The pianist asked worriedly, flipping through the pages of a book that would be used in that class.

Carl's perfect reputation could be a flaw at times, as everyone always expected the best from him and admitted no less than exemplary attitude. He might not show it, but he was tired of being seen as a reference or a model, it was exhausting to keep all aspects of life perfectly balanced. His grades were always high, he wore the cleanest and tidiest clothes, had an exemplary education and was seen as a true gentleman. His kindness, qualities and purity hid someone who, even though he was surrounded by people and received lots of praise, felt lonely. It was not very noticeable, but most times he smiled, it was possible to see that deep sadness, that melancholy look that never failed to worry. Rare were the occasions when Carl's smile was entirely devoid of any negative feeling.

"Maybe he wasn't feeling well today, we can talk to him after class." - Neka said, reassuring his friends while trying to think positive, he couldn't imagine any other reason for Carl to miss classes.

Amid the flowers that bloomed in the glass room, the list of the two boys was slowly decreasing in size, with only a few species left to be harvested. They carried in their hands the most polychromatic bouquets they had ever seen. They looked like those sold in Arles or Paris, any girl would sigh when she received one of these. They carried in their hands the most polychromatic bouquets they had ever seen, they looked like those sold in Arles or Paris, any girl would sigh when she received one of these. The last item on the dark-haired boy's list was roses, and Pascal had not specified exactly what kind of rose he should pick. He decided to choose the color himself, as he imagined that it would not make a difference in his friend's experiment. And so, some red roses were picked and placed next to the other flowers that were in his hand. Pleased to be able to complete the list, Carl took the bouquet to the scientist along with the list, saying:

"In the list you gave me, you didn't specify what kind of rose you wanted, so I picked the red ones, is there a problem?"

After turning to talk to his friend, Pascal analyzes the flowers that were picked before answering the question asked. The truth is that the dark-haired boy was standing exactly where the sun's rays perfectly framed him, giving him an angelic aspect.

"It was exactly red roses I needed, you picked the right ones." - The redhead responds trying to act naturally, although he was a little enchanted by how radiant he looked in the sun and the plants.

"I thought the color of the roses didn't matter, as you always try to make them blue." - The religious boy said, slowly running his fingers over the soft red petals of the flowers.

It was impossible not to mention the scientist's obsession with changing the color of flowers. Ihat had been his life goal since he was very young, even though his own family disbelived that it would ever be possible. Carl was one of the few people who understood his dream, it was one of the reasons that brought them closer, because he always supported him, even though he had little chance of success.

"The colors are extremely important, because in addition to the different pigments, each of the roses has a different meaning." - Pascal replied, happy to have the opportunity to teach his friend something.

"White roses symbolize purity and innocence, they are the ones I use the most because they have a color that is easy to change. Yellow roses symbolize joy and friendship, they have a pigment that is not really useful to create the blue color." - He explained in detail, articulating well and naturally, as he spoke about one of his favorite subjects, one of which he was the most knowledgeable about.

Carl had become accustomed to his friend's peculiar interests, but he was surprised to learn the symbolism of each type of rose, after all, he had never presented anyone with flowers and didn't have much knowledge on the subject. What he admired most was the way Pascal explained things. It was possible to have a genuine interest in what he said, it was exhilarating to see just how much the older boy wished to learn, to know more about the flowers. Soon after a relatively lengthy explanation of what each color of rose meant, the youngest boy realized that the meaning of one flower had yet to be explained: the red rose. Even though he already had a brief knowledge about the flower, with a bit of shyness, Carl decided to ask his friend, just to hear his explanation.

"What about red roses? What do they mean?" - He asked taking a single red rose from the bouquet, making it very visible.

Surprised by the sudden question, a part of Pascal wondered if the youngest boy really didn't know what the meaning of the flower was, since it was one of the best known and most used types for gift-giving. Perhaps he had noticed a little audacity on the part of his friend, as it was as if he just wanted to hear what he had to say about the rose. These thoughts were soon put aside, it was evident that Carl would never provoke him that way. He was just imagining things again. Assuming Carl didn't really know, he explained normally, just as he had done with the other colors.

"Red roses, the flowers of Aphrodite, Venus and Maria. They are the most symbolic species in the West, and even though they are so similar to the others, they have a much deeper interpretation." - The older boy answered the question, taking the reddish flower that was in the hand of his friend - "They are the flowers that are most used to present the loved one, as they mean beauty, consummation and love."

Pascal analyzed the flower he was holding as he continued his explanation, not realizing the effect his words had on those who were listening. The religious boy felt a little shy hearing words as sentimental as these, and felt flushed like he did the afternoon they spent in the laboratory.

"They have the same color as blood and heart, they symbolize the respect and devotion that an individual has for the loved one." - The scientist said in the midst of his daydreams, the explanation about the other colors was simple, but with the red rose, he went on talking.

The dark-haired boy was surprised at the times when Pascal was able to think in a more emotional than rational way, as he usually boiled down to numbers and calculations, but this time he seemed more emotional than usual. It was eccentric the way he knew so much about relationships, but never had anyone pique his interest. This was one of the few things that Carl did not know about his friend. The two rarely talked about matters of the heart, and the neglect towards this type of conversation resulted in neither of them knowing about the other's romantic interests. It was evident that Pascal had extraordinary knowledge in several subjects, even in interpersonal relationships, as he had helped Carl in his moments of doubt. He was afraid to be indiscreet, to make things between them awkward, but he needed to know:

Has the rational genius, Pascal Biquet, ever fallen in love?

The redhead was not the favorite suitor of the girls or their families, that was a fact. His disregard for strict social rules, his careless appearance, his eccentric interests, and his unique way of thinking were not exactly what was considered attractive, though being one of the oldest children in a family with a good reputation and financial condition did give him some advantage. In all these years he had known him, Carl had never heard his friend mention a lady's name, or give any sign that he had been interested in anyone. This in a way comforted him, even though it was a selfish and immature desire, he was happy to be the closest person to his friend at the time. He couldn't imagine the redhead with anyone, even if that was eventually going to happen. Whenever thoughts like that crossed his mind, he felt a kind of discomfort and didn't know why, he just stopped thinking about it and tried to distract himself.

"You understand so much about love and its aspects, but have you ever met someone who made you feel it?" - The question was asked timidly, he felt so embarrassed that he couldn't even properly pronounce the word "love".

It was the first time he heard Carl ask him about love, as it was a subject rarely discussed between the two. Obviously the scientist would not miss an opportunity to joke about the situation.

"First, you agree to truancy, and now you want to talk about a subject that we don't normally talk about? I must admit, the imposter they put in your place really isn't very good at all." - The redhead said in a sarcastic tone, making his friend forget his shame and laugh a little.

"There's no need to answer if you don't want to, I was just curious." - He replied looking away and returning his attention to the flowers again, trying to escape from the subject and avoid further embarrasment.

Pascal thought about possible answers. It was rare to see Carl so boldly mention this topic, so changing the conversation was out of the question. If the answer was negative, he would be lying to himself and to Carl, but if it was positive, he would have to be careful that his true feelings were not discovered. The dark-haired boy looked at him expecting an answer, but also afraid that he had asked something too intimate. Deep down, he knew that most things people considered embarrassing or inappropriate would not affect Pascal, but he still feared he had gone over the limits of what was acceptable in their friendship.

"Yes, it has already happened to me." - Pascal replied, this time without sarcasm or with a joke involved, he was being sincere and direct.

Carl found himself surprised, even though he knew it was likely to have happened. He felt a little frustrated, and guilty too, because he should have been feeling happy for his friend. He imagined he would have been be the first person to know, they were best friends and shared everything that happened in their lives. The younger boy tried not to care, after all the scientist owed him nothing. He wondered who was be the person who managed to arouse such interest in Pascal, in his head he projected the image of someone with the characteristics that would attract his friend. He had several questions, such as who that person was, how he found out what he felt, and most importantly: what he did about it. He considered asking or not, but preferred to remain silent so as not to be invasive. Pascal was amused to see Carl's confused expression, he probably wanted to continue the matter, but he didn't know how.

"Feel free to ask anything you want to know, you know I don't mind that." - The older boy said, leaving Carl surprised to have guessed what he was thinking. - "If you keep imagining too much and don't ask, you'll get even redder than you are right now."

That was enough to make the boys laugh. The fact that Carl got red in the face in situations where he didn't know how to act was in a way attractive, it was a unique and subtle feature. Normally he didn't like that detail in himself, he felt even more ashamed when others noticed it. But with Pascal it was different, having the freedom to laugh at each other was an advantage of being very close, it was something they did only when they were alone.

"How did you find out what you felt?" - The religious boy asked, gently sighing after saying so, still feeling guilty over the feelings he had for Serge.

The redhead knew exactly what made him attracted to the dark-haired boy, his shy and somewhat withdrawn personality, the way he was always so diligent, and how he always tried gave his best to fulfill his responsabilities. Besides, he understood him like no one else, and he could count on Carl for whatever he needed. The words were carefully thought out before being said, as he took care to make them clear but not too revealing.

"How can I explain? It happened in a natural way, I knew it right after I realized how comfortable it feels to talk to that person, and even when we don't talk, their presence is sufficient." - He said as he continued walking slowly through the greenhouse, being accompanied by his friend.

Carl knew that the women closest to Pascal were his sisters and other girls in the family. The redhead's social life was not very busy, and he could hardly think of who the person described by his friend could be.

"They support me in my experiments, even though they're not sucessful most of the time. What I like most about them is the fact that we have fun together and how they know almost everything about me, as well as I know almost everything about them." - The scientist continued to speak, arousing his friend's curiosity.

"Please, continue." - The religious boy told his friend, who had paused a little to look in his direction. Carl seemed a little disappointed to hear those words, and he was trying hard to look excited.

He was really innocent, thought Pascal. He could hardly imagine that the scientist was talking about him, in his monologue.

"Let me think ... When I'm with this person, I feel that I don't have to try to adapt to what is expected of me. They understand me, and they've seen all parts of my personality, even the most fragile ones." - The religious boy was impressed with the ease wish with his friend spoke about his feelings, while he could not even express what he felt.

"They've helped me in many difficult moments, moments that even I couldn't believe in myself. Sometimes they scold me, saying that I should try harder at school, but deep down I know that they only do it because they care about me. " - He said, hiding the happiness he felt when he said those words, for fear that Carl might be suspicious of his true meaning.

The younger boy did not know how to answer. He should be happy for his friend, after all Pascal was old enough to marry, so finding a girl with whom he identified was wonderful news.

"You two must be really close." - The dark-haired boy said, trying to look excited and proud of his friend.

"Yes, the best part is that when I'm with them, I don't feel like being with anyone else." - Pascal said, this time looking at his friend, while pushing his glasses slightly upwards.

For some reason, those words kept echoing in Carl's mind, what did he mean by that? Did "not feel like being with anyone else" include him, too? Even though he knew he was being selfish, hearing that made him feel anxious, as he feared that they would grow apart after they graduated, each one following their own path, maybe never seeing each other again. All the criteria his friend listed as the reasons he fell in love seemed a bit strange, they didn't fit with what he felt for Serge. Maybe his feelings weren't as strong as he thought. This in a way motivated him, made him realize that those feelings could be, in fact, fleeting, and that everything could maybe return to normal with the passage of time. In fact, if he tried to use Pascal's criteria to choose the ideal person for him, he wouldn't be able to think of anyone.

In fact, there was a person who met those criteria, but young Carl Messier was not able to see it.

"Well, whoever she is, she must be adorable. I'm glad you found someone you like!" - The dark haired boy said, showing himself happy for his friend, who was trying to hide his disappointment when he heard the answer.

Pascal had planned to tell Carl what he felt for him for some time now, but first he needed confirmation that his feelings were mutual. Carl's somewhat neutral response did not help, he still couldn't figure out what to do. He wanted the relationship of the two to progress somehow, but at the same time he feared that their friendship would end tragically, and by the redhead's calculations, there were great chances of this happening.

The conversation changed there, and they continued to look for flowers to complete the lists. After a while, the bouquets in their hands was even more colorful and every flower on the list seemed to have finally been picked. They sat side by side on a small wall in the greenhouse to compare the species of flowers harvested. The distance between them was minimal, a fact that did not bother either of them.

"All the flowers on the list were picked, I just couldn't find as many lilies as you wanted." - Carl said showing the small amount of lilies in the middle of the bouquet; they weren't widely cultivated in the greenhouse.

"No problem, I only need one component from them." - The redhead replied, still with his eyes turned towards the list.

Only on rare occasions like this did they allow themselves to be so close. Physical contact was generally not well regarded by people, but they felt comfortable being close to each other. The sun's rays reflected on the glass opposite from where they were sitting, bathing them in a golden glow. That moment seemed perfect, just two friends together, creating good memories amidst the tranquility of the greenhouse's beauty Suddenly, their faces were closer than usual, as they talked about the flowers they had picked. It was not strange, but still, both felt themselves a bit mesmerized. The last time they were so close was in the laboratory, during their experiment, a memory that heated the hearts of both boys.

Carl did not move and did not say a word, he was static and did not know what to do, what he would normally do in this situation would be to avoid, but he continued to stare at his friend. The redhead, on the other hand, slowly leaned forward, getting only inches apart from his friend's face. They looked deeply into each other's eyes, unable to move or look away. Carl's heartbeat started to quicken, he tried to calm down but it was no use. He didn't feel like pulling away. Being so close to the scientist allowed him to take in every detail of his appearance, his reddish strands were uniquely hit by the sunlight, giving his hair a fiery glow. The dark-haired boy felt uncomfortable when evaluating the appearance of the people he saw; he didn't feel entitled to do so, especially with other boys. And yet, he did it now: even though Pascal didn't have angelic beauty or a flashy appearance (or just didn't care enough about his looks to have one), Carl still managed to find him attractive. He'd seen him every day for many years, he was completely used to his friend. He didn't try, but could still somehow look handsome while his hair was messed up, his glasses were over his head and he wore a wrinkled lab coat.

The scientist's gaze went from his friend's eyes to his mouth, which was slightly open as if to say something, but the words wouldn't come out. After a few more seconds in that same position, Carl obeyed his instincts and approached slowly. The day had been full of adrenaline, broken rules and, mainly, a lot of guilt. Maybe he shouldn't care, just for today. He really needed a day off, a day away from all his daily stress. The guilt could haunt him later, after this was over. The older boy took the initiative, seeing that he had nothing to lose, and that the consequences of his next action would most likely not be negative. He touches his friend's lips with his own, just as he had done the day before. This time, it was different. There was no experiment to be an excuse. They were simply doing what they wanted to do, and that was what frustrated Carl. All his life, he'd been taught that it was wrong. He'd repressed himself so much, and felt guilty in a way he couldn't explain. Now, he was here, out of class during school hours, sitting on one of the greenhouse's short walls along with his best friend, doing something he would probably regret later.

While Pascal was happy to be having moments like this with Carl, he worried about what he was thinking. He didn't want to pressure him, to speed things up too much. The religious boy, however, let himself be carried away by the emotion of the act, allowing himself to forget, even if just for a few seconds, the guilt that always haunted him. The position of the Sun indicated that it was well past noon, but time seemed frozen in that greenhouse. The glass building kept a newly created memory that would be deeply engraved in the minds of the two boys.

Continued in the Next Chapter

Written by KimKymury, thank you for reading it!

[fuwafuwamedb]

A Cursed G Pt 31 (Hakuno, Gilgamesh, Enkidu, Siduri)

Previous Part: 1 - HakuPOV / GilPOV, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30

___

“How long have they been gone now?”

Gilgamesh leaned back, staring towards the windows of the ziggurat. The morning meal had been long, but compared to the lunch hour, it may as well have been the blink of an eye. He hadn’t expected to spend hours without Hakuno around for him and Enkidu to entertain themselves with. The servants had pushed them away several times while preparing her to go visit his mother. He’d seen Siduri looking through some of her tablets, no doubt debating on whether or not to allow Hakuno to do much work at all.

She’d never manage to keep them away from Hakuno, but it had been amusing for a moment to watch.

Then the day had progressed. The audience chamber was as long-winded as he remembered. The lions curled up around his throne, beginning naps as a few nobles offered their daughters to him.

He didn’t want them. Never had.

What he had wanted was someone much like Enkidu: a challenge. He wanted wit and humor. He wanted steel nerves and unrelenting backbone. Someone who would bend at the mere breath he gave was useless in comparison.

The advisors today had not met Hakuno yet, but they knew that he had brought a woman into the palace. Their hands were wringing, their eyes were darting to him and the clay being nearby.

He had ordered his wedding to be arranged.

However, they did not know the woman or her lineage for this affair.

The result was simple: They doubted him.

“My king,” the latest presenter announced. “This is my daughter, from the clutches of Ishtar’s temple, I’ve retrieved her for becoming a wife to you. She’s wise, wise enough to know how to please a man and keep your bed warm. The wedding could be right before the one you are holding soon for that outsider.”

“How boring.”

Gilgamesh glanced over to Enkidu, earning a small nod.

“Take the woman back to her temple before the gods get angered. This is a waste of my time. I have no desire to waste my time on a woman that can barely show any sign of allure let alone-“

The doors were opening.

“Ah, Hakuno’s finally back,” Enkidu murmured somewhere near his seat.

The woman had quite the entrance.

The robes that she’d been adorned in were of the same colors as his own. Her necklaces shifted here and there, falling into the valley of her chest as she strolled forward. The kohl to protect her eyes seemed to do nothing more than make her features more obviously foreign.

Siduri walked at her side, holding a few tablets in hand and grinning whilst she talked to the woman quietly. Whatever distaste she had held for Hakuno was gone, replaced with a slight flush to the woman’s face and a glowing expression that would have had him questioning her had Hakuno not already become his in body.

Yet, neither Siduri nor Hakuno’s appearance were what drew a hundred eyes to stare at her in shock.

It was Hakuno’s audacity.

Hakuno marched right passed those speaking, mounting the steps before his throne and up to where he stood. She leaned up, her arms wrapping around his shoulders and pulling him in.

Lips pressed to his own.

He wasn’t sure what had brought this about, but…

She’s nothing if not entertaining.

Gilgamesh pulled her flush against himself, feeling the warmth of her person against him. She made a small sound, probably missed by most, before clinging to him further.

“Leave us,” Gilgamesh managed to get out.

The chamber was emptying. Siduri was ushering those out who had no business here now. The suitor was going, alongside her father. He could sense the advisors hesitating, their robes in his peripheral vision.

“Gentlemen,” Siduri greeted. “May I present Hakuno to you all? She is the woman that our king has chosen for his queen consort and the woman whom Ninsun herself has claimed as her daughter.”

He had to pull back, finding his mother’s talisman amongst the jewelry around Hakuno’s neck.

So she had liked her huh…

“Ninsun told me to call her mom,” Hakuno murmured to him.

That… was surprising.

His mother was not one to take to people. He’d expected complaints. He’d half expected to find Hakuno mounting the steps in outrage and declaring that she would win Ninsun over somehow. She wouldn’t take no for an answer. If anything, his mother would have solidified weeks of entertaining attempts to win her over.

Instead, the woman had placed a protection necklace around her and had told her to call her mom.

Perhaps his mother was aging.

Doubtful, but he could think of no other reason his mother would be so desperate to protect Hakuno that she would place such an amulet around Hakuno’s neck.

He’d need to speak to his mother later.

“She has been claimed by Ninsun?!”

The group of elders stared at her in astonishment, earning a look from Hakuno.

Once again, she was being unpredictable.

“My mother-in-law was kind enough to give me her blessing and tell me to remain close to the palace. Is there something wrong with that?”

Upfront.

It was a good way to show backbone and a good way to make those against her fall silent. However, he noted a couple holding their hands carefully. Devoted to Ishtar, they had no doubt been told to find him someone close to her.

“If she has accepted you, then that is that,” one told them simply.

The others nodded, chiming in their agreements.

“Excellent,” Hakuno smiled at them. “Then-“

At her pause, Gil glanced to her.

“Sorry, I felt a little off again.” She shook her head, her confident mask back up in full force. “Since that’s done, I’ll be working with Siduri in the offices. I’ll look forward to working with you all.”

He found himself kissed again, the woman holding his necklaces before she walked herself straight back to the doors.

…How boring.

Enkidu was hurrying after her, leaving him with Siduri now. The advisors were dispersing, no doubt to speak of what had occurred. The great king had found a woman with enough spine to temper him. It was news that no corner of Uruk would be lacking the knowledge of by nightfall.

“She heard, didn’t she?”

“She was a bit upset at hearing them call her an outsider and offer their daughter as a better choice,” Siduri confirmed. “She took one look at the guards averting their gaze from her and decided to act.”

“And what did she mean by off again?”

Siduri shook her head. “I’m not sure, but Ninsun’s priests told me that under no circumstances is she to leave the palace again. I was told to inform you to boost the defenses.”

That had been in process already, but why would his mother wish for such a thing?

She was not one for protecting loved ones. She knew better than to worry herself about others’ health. When he had been risking his life, she simply threatened Enkidu to do better. When his father had gone to war, she had waved him off with a hand and told him to come back to give her more children.

Giving Hakuno an amulet that showed her favor of her was strange.

The whole situation was strange. She wasn’t gaining anything from helping Hakuno. Why would she be…

The lions were migrating towards the doors now, their low murmurs of hunger and wishing to play in the gardens ringing in his ears.

Kitten needs to hurry up.

“Siduri,” Gilgamesh rubbed at his head. “Which one of the damn lionesses is pregnant?”

“Hmm?”

“They’re grumbling,” he complained.

“The apsu that looked at them the other week said none of them were.” Siduri glanced over to them. “I suppose I could call one again, but I don’t think they’re being any louder than usual, my king.”

Wait.

“Siduri, take Hakuno to my chambers to work.”

“What?”

He was already heading for the door, moving towards the front of the palace. “Do not, under any circumstances, allow Hakuno to leave the palace, do you understand?”

He headed down the stairs as fast as he could, his mind revolving around what this could mean. If true, then he had more beef with Ishtar. If true, he truly needed to stop the woman before she did anything further.

There was one thing his mother would defend to the death: heirs.

It was why she threatened Enkidu often. It was why she had stopped caring as much about his father’s life after he had been born. His kingdom was secure with a person to ascend to the throne. Had Ishtar not been the patron goddess, he had no doubt in his mind that his mother would have been the patron goddess.

“MOTHER!”

He threw the doors open to her temple, finding the priests falling back in surprise.

The woman adorned in blue looked up, her feet currently propped on a small pillow for a good rubbing.

“Gilgamesh, what brings you here?”

“She’s pregnant, isn’t she?”

The small smile on her face was barely hidden by her hand. Ninsun waved her priests away, pressing her feet lightly to the floor before she stood up.

“Mo-“

“She’s very different from the women that I have seen come here to pray to be yours,” his mother replied. “She has a mind, one that has much broader knowledge than I had expected.”

“Is she?”

His mother moved forth, stepping before him and lifting his face to look up at hers. The woman was unnaturally tall, unerringly attractive. It was little wonder his father had picked her, but all he could see was just another pretty face when he looked to her.

“Mother,” he tried again.

“I used a bit of power to see into her open mind,” she told him. “Morning sickness, a heavier chest, a more pronounced hunger; I saw her morning and understood the meaning. You’ve done well, far better than the gods had told me you would manage.”

He felt his knees give way, his eyes staring up into those so much like his own.

“You were such a pretty thing. Do you know how deep that love of hers goes?” His mother laughed, kneeling down to keep that close contact. “I felt it, like a golden chain around my heart. If anyone hurt you, she would go wild. If anyone took you, her heart would break into pieces. You’re so deep into her spirit now that forgetting you would mean forgetting all of herself. She would be no more than an empty vessel.”

Such nonsense. There was no such thing as an adoration that deep.

“Do you not believe me? How would she react if those advisors of yours brought another woman for you?”

They already had.

Gilgamesh stared at the woman, his mind blanking at the memory.

“You are so simple,” his mother cooed, brushing at his hair. “So very simple. This will be so entertaining. I want the barrier around the palace increased. Do not let her leave the palace. Marriage ceremonies can be on the palace steps. In fact, it may help to let all see her.”

What did he even do with heirs?

There would be noise and crying and-

What was he supposed to do with an heir?!

“You should make an offering for Ishtar,” his mother murmured.

“No…”

“Take it to her temple and give it to the priests.”

He couldn’t do that.

Ishtar had tried to put Hakuno in her deathbed. She had left the woman lying uselessly in a public toilet and had assumed that she herself could still claim him.

When he had rejected her, she’d turned him into a beast and thrown him into another world.

“She is still the patron goddess,” his mother reminded him. “Fortify your defenses and make an offering. If not for you, then for her.”

He wouldn’t.

The gods did not dictate who would do what and when. They held no control, considering that he had brought Hakuno back and he had helped to aid her healing with his own strength and that of Enkidu’s. He wasn’t going to let Ishtar know that his child was coming.

“Gilgamesh-“

“I need to return to Hakuno.”

His mother earned her hug, her kisses for being of his own blood. He laughed with her for a moment as she recommended names, but he pulled himself from her temple.

His feet felt numb.

He, himself, felt numb. The world around him was alive and bustling. His people were waving and he had to force himself to give waves here and there as he went, but he didn’t stop.

For once, he ascended back into the ziggurat and followed the path he had taken a good few hundred women back to his chambers. He opened the door to his room, finding Hakuno cuddled on the bed with a half dozen of his lions.

Kitten.

Kitten.

“Gil!” Enkidu grinned as they motioned over to Hakuno. “I think the lions have found a new favorite. They’ve been cuddling Hakuno.”

“Enkidu, leave us for a moment.”

Hakuno looked up, frowning.

“Enkidu-“

“I’m going,” the being pat his shoulder. “I need to take some of these tablets to Siduri anyway. Hakuno can’t read all of them yet and was needing my help to translate them to her language, but it may be faster to just let Siduri handle them for now.”

“She’ll learn in the next few months.”

Enkidu nodded, heading from the room.

“What’s wrong?” Hakuno asked.

He moved forward, watching that frown growing. The woman’s eyes were searching his face, her body sitting up a little more.

“Gil-“

“Did you know?”

“Know?”

“About this?” He motioned at her, earning a heavy sigh and a hand running through her hair.

“I didn’t know that the lions would like me at all, but I’ve never necessarily been bad with animals. I tend to just leave them be, but your lions are the cuddliest cats- other than you.”

“I’m not talking about the lions.”

“You just pointed at them.”

“I was not pointing at the lions.”

Hakuno glanced down before she shook her head. “Then I don’t know what you’re talking about, Gil. What’s going on-“

“The baby.”

“Baby?”

“Yes, the one you have growing in you.”

Hakuno stared at him. Those brown eyes were wide and that scowl was stronger than ever.

She hadn’t known.

The woman had no idea that she had been- which meant he was the first out of the two of them to figure it out.

“There’s no way I’m pregnant. There would be obvious signs. I’d be missing cycles…” She paused, shaking her head after a second. “plus the whole time jump would mess up my counting so I’m sure I’m not-“

“The lions cuddle you and say kitten.”

“The lions are overly friendly.”

“They ate a man the day before I disappeared.”

Hakuno glanced at the lions a moment before looking to him skeptically.

“Shall we go down to the city to see? I’m sure there’s a criminal deserving down there.”

“Gil, I’m not pregnant. I’d be gaining a stomach.”

“It’s early. These things take months to fully develop.”

“Who told you that I was?”

“My mother did.”

Hakuno groaned, pulling one of the lions closer. “She may just be wishful thinking-“

“She’s a goddess, Hakuno.”

“Gilgamesh, we slept together only a couple times. I haven’t-“

He yanked her to him, tired of this.

The woman would figure it out sooner or later. She would understand the meaning of her morning illness and she would realize what she had done. She had to take responsibility now. Claiming him so forthright, allowing herself to welcome so much of him into her life and then daring to spawn another generation.

“Gil-“

He pulled back to breathe a moment before he was climbing onto the bed, kissing her again.

She didn’t resist. No, she held him just as tight as ever, her legs seeming to part just for him. The lions were grumbling, moving from the bed, leaving him to have her for himself. He could hear the mutterings, but right now he wanted to entertain himself.

“You fool,” he growled, laughing softly. “You fell in love with me.”

“You know this already,” she complained.

He did, but he wanted to hear it again. The way his mother had described it had been all too great. Would she really lose all of herself at the loss of him? Was she truly that smitten?

“Gil, am I pregnant or are you just trying to make it so?”

His laugh grew louder, his forehead pressing to hers.

She was clinging to him, with him not holding her at all.

“I have only seen children in the kingdom. I don’t know about rearing them. I’ve helped my lions give birth, but my knowledge of people doing so…”

“What about Ishtar?”

“I’ll deal with her.”

“Gil-“

He stole her lips away, watching her wane. His mother had been right. It was foolish to argue when she always was. And that, combined with his good fortune, led him to this.

Hakuno was already looking at him with darkened eyes. Her arms were pulling him in further. The plain fool, claiming a king in this manner.

She was lucky she was so entertaining.

She was lucky that she could pull such interesting expressions when she looked to him.

She was lucky that she could manage to stir such strong responses from him when she touched and held him in her arms.

She was so incredibly lucky, he thought as he pulled those robes down her body and bore her naked person to his eyes. He all but purred as she shivered beneath him. His tongue ran right up from her navel, sending his name escaping her lips once again.

“The tablets,” Hakuno tried to remind him. “There’s work-“

“No one will expect them today.” Gilgamesh pulled his robes from his person, tossing them off the bed as he looked down at the woman beneath him. “I’ll make you loud enough that it will be obvious where the rest of my day will be spent.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

Her shouts were louder than ever in his chambers. He held her hips and sent her over the edge so much that the flush to her cheeks would probably be permanent. Those lips rained down upon him, fighting desire with desire.

No one came for them.

It was very clear why.

[chilly-me-softly]

I need Part 3 of Ben meeting your daughter. I'm so in love with it. xx

Part 1 - Part 2

Ben has a smile on his face before he even opens his eyes. In the last few weeks he has woken up with you in his arms several times, but now even that tastes different.

When he opens his eyes he frowns briefly before a sweet expression appears on his face. He went to sleep only with you and woke up with Emma in the middle of your bodies, when or how it happened he doesn’t know. The little girl sleeps on her side, Twinkle tightly squeezed in one arm and her face almost hidden in his chest and only now he realizes that one of his hands is covering her.

The baby had only smiled when you told her that Ben was staying over, and later that night, you found her on the edge of the bed.

“Can I sleep with you?” she had asked by torturing the puppet’s ear and you had smiled and helped her up, you didn’t usually let her sleep with you so she wouldn’t get used to it but that night you could have made an exception if that’s what she wanted. In all this Ben hadn’t moved an inch, but as soon as the baby had settled down and fallen asleep, one of his hands had gone to wrap around the baby’s waist and you had smiled before putting your head back on the pillow eager to get all the minutes of sleep you still deserved.

Ben stretches out his arm to caress your side and the smile on his face is nothing compared to yours when you focus on his figure. “Good morning” you yawn while looking at the little girl still asleep.“When did she arrive?”

“Early this morning, your ears slept with you. They’ll get used to it in time” you joke and he grinns.

“In time, eh?” you look at each other for a few minutes communicating with your eyes, until the grip on his shirt gets stronger and Emma sighs.

It takes a few more minutes before her little eyes open wide and Ben runs his finger over her nose, seeing her wrinkle it annoyed.

“Good morning, sweetheart. Sleep well?” she nods, rubbing her eye with one hand and then lifting her head towards Ben. “Morning Ben”

You leave them both in bed to go to the bathroom, you take a few more minutes because you know she’ll be under control and won’t risk falling out of bed at any time. And when you get back to the room, teeth and face wash, Emma is straddling Ben’s body and trying to hit his nose like he did with her before.

You’ve always wanted something like that for her, of course her father is the most loving person in the world to her, but you don’t deny that it’s a bit of a burden for you. Spending a week with you and one week with him, constantly changing houses, inevitably were contributing to her growing up as she is. Surely you wouldn’t have stayed with your ex just because you wanted a united family for your little girl, better to be united but far away than to hate each other all your life and weigh on the child. 

It’s been too long since you leaned against the door jamb and watched your little girl laugh while her father had eyes only for her. It’s been too long since it was just you and her and now looking at Ben you can’t help but smile and have shiny eyes. It’s really been too long and you missed all that, the complicity, the union, the laughter. You don’t know who put Ben in your path, but you certainly thank him endlessly.

A thud distracts you from your thoughts, “Ooops” you hear Emma’s laughter and you come closer to understand what happened.

Ben holds his hand behind his head and Emma has hers over her mouth, but her eyes don’t deny the fun. “Ben hit his head” she just giggles in your direction before going back to hiding her mouth behind her hands.

“Yeah, Ben got hurt so bad” he points out rubbing the back of his head and you get on the bed.

“Oh no, we have to do something” and you’re ready to kiss him when your little girl runs her finger up his nose giggling. Ben pretends to be shocked before squeezing her and starting to tickle her, and your little girl’s screams and laughs fill your heart.

“I can’t believe you didn’t do anything special yesterday” you keep telling him while you’re making breakfast, Emma in the living room enjoying her favorite cartoon while you’re setting everything up.

Ben giggles, wrapping his arms around your waist and leaving a kiss on your neck, “That’s it”

“Then you’ve definitely switched my baby with someone who looks like her” your statement makes him laugh even more.

“Just because she likes me?” for a moment there’s a pout on his face that you promptly chase away by kissing him.

“I’m just saying she’s never behaved like this, even with her cousins she’s always very… composed” you sigh as you turn off the flame.

“What can I say, I have a certain charm” you turn around and look at him with an eyebrow raised before you burst out laughing in his face. And he tries to push you away while you just want to laugh and rest on his chest and after a while he lets you do it, a kiss on your head as small steps get closer and closer.

“I’m hungry” screams Emma with her little voice and in a moment you’re all three of you around the table having breakfast like a real family.

The doorbell rings a few hours later and from upstairs your voice is heard screaming at Ben to open the door, you’re finishing dressing the baby and you have some difficulty because apparently she doesn’t want to put her shoes on today.

Only when you go downstairs do you realize that Ben and Emma’s father are chatting around the kitchen table. Well, it was inevitable for the two of them to get to know each other sooner or later but you imagined it a little different.

Ben had opened the door and found himself in front of a boy who had looked at him in a confused way, he had never seen a photo but had immediately understood who he was. And not because they were waiting for him, but because somehow he reminds him of Emma.

“Hi, you must be Foster” Ben tries to be as friendly as possible by holding his hand and the boy shakes it right away.

“Hi, so you’re the famous Ben” he turns around after closing the door and looks at him with a confused look. “Emma’s always talking about you”

“Really?” he’s really surprised this time, the little girl seemed to be letting herself go around him only for a day while instead she’s been talking about him apparently for a long time.

The boy nods affirmatively with his head putting his hands in his pocket and looking around. “Emma’s upstairs with (Y/N), getting her dressed”

“Oh okay, thank you” and then so as not to stand there he offered him something to drink and that’s how you found them, having a chat like normal people.

“Hey” you greet him while you kiss him on the cheek, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah yes, sorry about yesterday.  I hope I didn’t cause you any trouble”

“Oh no man, no way,” Ben says for you, and you shake your head going to stand behind Ben.

Emma arrives shortly after, diving into her father’s arms and something inside Ben clutches at heart level. So little time has passed since you introduced them but he really cares about that little girl and watching the way she smiles or the way he takes her in his arms apologizing for the previous day reassures him. He doesn’t want her to suffer, you’ve told him so much about your relationship with Foster, he knows he’s a good person but seeing it with his own eyes is something else entirely.

“Okay, let’s go love, shall we?” the little girl nods and rushes off to get her things.  Foster gets up and straightens his shirt before looking at you and hinting at a smile.

“You look good” and he’s sincere, of course he only knows Ben through the eyes of his three-year-old daughter - understanding everything she said to him between the screams and the jumps hadn’t been easy, but the general concept was that mom had a boyfriend and he was good to her - but he knows that look on your face and he’s really happy that you’ve managed to move on and find a good person, someone who makes you smile as soon as you see him or just hear his name and make you blush like you’re doing now.

“Look at her, little (Y/N) still knows how to blush” he makes fun of you and you hide your face in your hands and tell him to stop.

Ben watches the banter and can’t help but feel a little out of place, it’s normal you have a daughter and a past and you’re on good terms now but he can’t help but feel a little jealous.  Luckily Emma manages to distract him at that moment, entering with the ever-present Twinkle under her arm and her backpack on her shoulder.

“Are you ready, love? Say goodbye so we can go” she lets Foster grab her backpack before she runs up to you and hugs you.

“Be good with daddy, okay?  We’ll see you this weekend” you give her a kiss on the cheek and wait for her to do the same, then you put her down and she goes to Ben.

You and Foster watch as Ben lowers himself to her height and she throws herself at him and he almost loses his balance.  "Be good" he whispers to her as he leaves a kiss on her forehead.

“Will you be here when I get back?”

“Of course I will Twinkle” after one last hug and more kisses from you, finally the door closes and you two are alone.

You let yourself be held in Ben’s arms while he kisses you on the forehead and lulls you gently, “I miss her already. What do you do as soon as she’s gone?”

“I usually sit in his room and turn her things in my hands” you giggle but he takes you by the hand dragging you up the stairs.

“You’re right, it works” he mutters after a while and you find yourself kissing him on your daughter’s bed laughing on his lips.

“Do you think I can take you two to meet the boys now? Or am I moving too fast?”

“You can do whatever you want Ben, as of today, no backing out. We are a family”

“Don’t make me cry”

“I love you”

“I love you too, Twinkle’s mom” you laugh hitting him in the chest and you can’t wait till Saturday to get your baby back.

 Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6

[love-killed-the-superstar]

tw for mentions of death and injury for this one lads!! but on the flip side of that, i finally wrote actual cassunzel interactions, yaay

CASSANDRA APPRECIATION WEEK DAY 6 - FIGHT/BATTLE

Cassandra tries not to worry Rapunzel too much.

If she had it her way, Rapunzel would never have to know about a single dangerous situation she ends up in, whether its by accident or diving in with both feet. Unfortunately scars are telling, and if Cass doesn't give her an honest play-by-play Rapunzel will be up til the early hours in agonies over the dangerous life she is living out on the road. So, like a good girlfriend should, Cass measures the kind of exploits she should tell Rapunzel about in her letters with whether or not she has sustained injury. Anything more serious than a scratch and she'll tactfully leave it a secret until the next time she's within the palace walls.

So when she runs into Vex on the road a few miles north of Vardaros, she figures this will just be another one of those events that she'll paraphrase in a strait-laced letter to Raps. Perhaps she will share some good-natured sparring with the townsfolk, pal around with Vex, taste-test some fresh honey from Quaid; all the fun, low-stakes stuff. She only intends on stopping over in Vardaros to stock up on supplies and take it from there – but upon her and Vex arriving back at the sheriff's office, she's met with the sight of three men hanging from the bridge overhead, being fished down by stricken townspeople simply wanting to remove the sight lest it scare away travelling patrons.

“Raiders,” Quaid says solemnly from behind her, as Cass watches on in muted horror. Vex strides ahead, avoiding looking at the sight altogether. “We chased a group of them out of town two weeks ago. Yesterday they struck again, so I sent a trio of our new town guard to scope out their base. And, well... it looks like they wanted to send a message home this time.”

Cass feels sick to her stomach. She's no stranger to how fucked up the world can be, especially since striking out on her own, but this is something she can't simply stand by and watch.

“What's your next move, Captain?” she asks quietly, following him towards the sheriff's office. From somewhere beyond her line of sight, she hears a man crying as his husband's body is lifted down.

“We fight, of course,” he says gravely. He takes a seat at his desk and mops his brow tiredly. “But with three of our men down, I'm not sure how well we'll fare in the fight. Our town guard is small as it is, and those raiders are ruthless. But the people of Vardaros don't back down. Not anymore.”

“I... I could write back to Corona,” Cass says quickly, grasping at straws for a way to aid the situation. “The guard there is huge, I'm sure Eugene wouldn't mind deploying a dozen or so soldiers to assist...”

“Wow. And here I was, thinking you were the only one of your friends that understood how things work here,” Vex snorts, as the front door slams shut behind her. She stalks past Cassandra, leaning back against the wall with a deep scowl.

Quaid shakes his head and smiles wanly at her suggestion. “I don't need to tell you of all people that Corona to Vardaros is at least a four day journey on horseback. We have no time to waste. The next time they come knocking, we have to be prepared to fight, no matter the cost.”

“Then I'll fight.” Owl hoots nervously on her shoulder, and Fidella, though resting just outside, looks equally perturbed by the notion of sticking around. “Captain, I have been training for my whole life. Whatever these raiders have planned, I can at least help even the score.”

He watches her with narrowed, haunted eyes. “Your life will be at risk. This is no game, Cassandra.”

“Of course it isn't! People are being killed, Captain, you can't seriously expect that I would sit back and watch this happen?”

“I only insist that you understand what you're getting yourself into, Cassandra.” He folds his arms, regarding her in silence for several dragging seconds, all while Vex mutters some choice expletives under her breath. “If you understand that and still wish to fight alongside us... I would be more grateful than you'll ever know.”

“I'll do it,” Cass promises. “You can count on me.”

…

Things move quickly after that. Vex gathers the townsfolk in the square to rally the locals into fighting for what's right. The people of Vardaros, beyond infuriated by the hangings that morning, are already fired up and ready to fight. For her part, Cass runs through basic drills – calling for everyone to bring forth their weaponry, teaching basic attack stances, offensive and defensive manoeuvres, everything she thinks she can squeeze into an afternoon. The idea that she is potentially sending these people to their deaths depending on how well she's taught them is nothing short of terrifying; but Quaid seems relieved at her assistance, and takes the valuable time to discuss strategy with his remaining guard.

They will defend Vardaros at any cost. They surrender to nobody. And Cass can't help thinking, despite her willingness to fight alongside them, that this mindset coupled with the minimal planning and inexperienced fighters is how entire civilisations get wiped off the map.

That night, while the townspeople grab a few precious hours of sleep, uncertain of when exactly the raiders are planning on striking next, Cass finds herself restless. Despite Vex and Quaid's dual pessimism, she finds herself reaching into her satchel for a pen and paper anyway.

Hey Raps,

It's funny that I should write to you now, when I never like to worry you on my journey. But Vardaros is in trouble, and I think that if you wake Eugene as soon as you get this, send out a dozen or so men as soon as you can, you might just be able to help. The town is being threatened by raiders, and it's bad. I'm going to fight with them, but I don't know that we'll prevail. Not to be an alarmist, but please, send some assistance. I really think we'll need it.

Captain Quaid believes that Vardaros is beyond outside help, but all I've been able to think about today is something my father once said to me: 'The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.' Well, here I am, trying to do SOMETHING. I only hope that it's enough.

I love you, and I don't want these people to die. I'll write again soon.

Sincerely yours, Cassandra.

“Owl,”  she murmurs, so not to wake Vex, lightly snoring against her shoulder. Owl looks up, eyes blinking rapidly. “I need you to get this to Corona as fast as you can. You know how important this is.”

She binds the letter and hands it over, and Owl bows his head a little, meeting her gaze. There's an unspoken feeling there – be safe, don't you dare get yourself killed – and then with a quiet hoot he launches himself from her arm, making his exit through a window pane missing its glass. She watches him until he leaves her sight and then exhales.

Well, if she does end up dying tomorrow, at least she can do so knowing she tried her hardest to help this town. And, a thought equally as comforting, she can accept dying as long as Raps knows she loves her.

All that's left to do now is shut her eyes and wait for sleep to take hold.

…

A lot of things happen that day, in the battle that historical records will one day refer to as The Great Strike Back of Vardaros. Nearly three hundred people lose their lives. Most of them, in a twist of events, happen to be the raiders.

The landslide victory comes without the help of any outside soldiers, save for one brave drifter who, despite the dismissal of the the captain, sent out a pleading message to the nearby kingdom of Corona the night before, begging for reinforcements. It doesn't bring any soldiers in time to assist in the fight; however, they turn up in spades to help the clean-up operation and bury the dead, all in awe at how well a small, untrained town of people could hold its own just out of sheer spite towards the enemy.

In Cassandra's case, the majority of this information is learned days later – when she awakens, weak and confused, in a dimly lit room that she soon comes to realise is one of the town's makeshift hospitals for casualties of the battle.

It takes a few minutes for her eyes to adjust to her surroundings, but when she finally tilts her head to the left hand side of her Cassandra spots a petite figure slumped back in a chair beside her, chest rising and falling as she dreams.

Rapunzel.

Cass lies there in stunned silence, unable to peel her eyes away from the sight of her girlfriend dozing beside her. It's almost enough to distract from the pain she's in, but as she grows more and more alert it's glaringly clear to her that something bad happened.

“Cass, you're awake!” Vex bounds over to her bed and Rapunzel snorts a little at the noise, eyes blinking sleepily, opening and closing a few times before ultimately closing again, losing their battle with the tiredness plaguing her head. The relief on Vex's face only makes it more obvious to Cass that the injury must have been pretty damn awful. “God, I – shit, it's good to see you're awake. How's your wound?”

“I... hmm. It hurts,” she grits out. “I, uh, don't really remember anything.”

“Yeah, I bet. You, uh, got hit over the head pretty hard in the fight. And, er... got yourself impaled on the way down.��

“Well, fuck.” Cass doesn't really know what else she's supposed to say to that. Now that Vex mentions it, she does remember the searing pain from the blow to the head. She's just grateful she was too out of it from the blunt force trauma alone to feel the impalement. “God. How'd I make it out of that one alive?”

“Quaid said you're just someone who isn't ready to die yet,” Vex says with a shrug. “Sounds like a total cop-out to me, but you're alive, so who cares how?”

“Seriously, Vex, I should probably be dead right now.”

“Then shut up and just be thankful that you're not.” Vex's eyes narrow, her patience for Cassandra's bewilderment waning already. “We patched your abdomen wound up fine, and we gave you some stitches on the back of your head too. That was like two days ago, though.”

Cass blanches. “Shit. Two days?” She glances over to Rapunzel, who is only just starting to wake up properly. “And when did Raps get here?”

“Few hours after the battle was over. She came in this huge balloon thing, you wouldn't believe it. She said the captain had to stay back to watch over Corona but she still brought like, eight guards with her in the balloon to help us treat the injured. Rapunzel barely left your side once she found your bed, though.” A sly smile creeps up on her. “Must be nice, having your girlfriend come to watch over you.”

“Can it, you.” Cass can barely keep her eyes off of Rapunzel, though, as she yawns and stretches. “Raps?”

“Mhmm... Vex?”

“That wasn't me,” Vex says flatly. With that, Rapunzel's eyes snap open and she whirls around to see Cass.

“CASS!! Oh my gosh, Cassandra!”

Before Cass even has a chance to try to sit up Rapunzel leaps from her seat, tackling her with such a force that it sends a spike of pain through her stomach, in what she guesses is the sensation of her wound being jostled. Raps squeezes her tight, rocking a little. Next come the kisses, peppered all over her face as she laughs weakly in protest. Vex makes an exaggerated puking sound effect, and Cass waves her off with a roll of her eyes. But as Rapunzel goes back to hugging her, resting her head against the crook of Cassandra's neck, she feels her body begin to tremble.

“Hey,” murmurs Cass, reaching up to rub Rapunzel's back in a soothing motion. “Hey, come on, it's all right.”

Rapunzel shakes her head, and her voice is wet when she speaks. “It's not all right! Cass, you could have died! You've barely been conscious for two days, my god!”

“Raps...” Cass gently steers her back by the shoulders and Rapunzel watches her, large eyes brimming over with tears. Reaching up, Cass thumbs them away and tries to smile in a way that will convince Rapunzel that she really is okay. “I'm all right now, really. Sure, my head is a little sore and I'll need to take it easy until my wound heals up, but look. I'm here with you now.”

Rapunzel sniffles and moves back, nodding. She pulls her chair right up close to the bed before sitting down again, reaching over to take Cassandra's hand in her own and turning to Vex.

“Vex. Would you mind, um... giving us a moment?”

“Oh, no problem, I was feeling queasy anyway,” she drawls. Despite her tone, Vex flashes them a small smile and nod before leaving to check on a man four beds to Cassandra's right. Cass exhales and squeezes Rapunzel's hand, pushing herself upright into a semi-sitting position. It's painful on her torso, but she just feels dizzier trying to hold this conversation lying down.

“I'm sorry for worrying you. I... I didn't think you would come, though. I only meant that we needed back-up out here.”

“I didn't come on official business, Cass,” Rapunzel begins, reaching up to wipe at her eyes again. “I mean, I came to help, of course, but – but god, Cass, how could you send that to me and not expect me to freak out?!”

“Uh.” Cass chews her lip. “I don't know. I hoped you'd overlook the part about me being there and just, uh, focus on the part about rallying the troops.”

Rapunzel sighs loudly, eyes still shining with tears, and Cass feels her stomach drop. Geez, Raps is still mad.

“Cassandra,” Rapunzel says slowly, as if to spell it out for her, “you wrote that you desperately needed reinforcements. You wrote that you were going to fight, but you weren't confident that you would win. And you actually wrote the words 'I love you'. In ink. In a letter that you knew I would be showing other people.”

Cass nods just as slowly.

“...Cass, it sounded like a goodbye! Don't you think? How did you expect me to – to just stay put, in Corona, knowing you were here and you might be dying?!”

“I said I'd write again soon,” Cass protests, but it's a weak defence and she knows it. “That part was supposed to be reassuring. I didn't want you to worry, but-”

“But you don't get to decide for me if I should be worried, Cass! We are in love, and if you think for one moment that I wouldn't come to you if I had even an inkling that you could be hurt...!”

“I know,” croaks Cass. “I know, Raps, shit. I know. I'm – I'm sorry.”

Now it's her turn to well up. She looks away, reaching up to wipe at her eyes, trying to make it look like she's fiddling with her hair. Rapunzel lets her keep her pride.

“I didn't come all this way to yell,” Rapunzel promises. “...Well, all right, I did a tiny bit. Cass, I know I can't tell you to stop doing this, I just want you to be careful.”

“I am careful, Raps, but these people were in trouble. Do you think I should have stayed out of it?”

“No,” sighs Rapunzel, shoulders slumped in defeat. “Of course not. Even if I did it's not your way of doing things, I know that. I would have done the same. It doesn't stop me from wishing you would value your life a little more, though.”

“I swear to you, I don't plan on getting myself killed when I get into fights like this,” Cass emphasises, reaching up to cup Rapunzel's cheek. “I'm sorry for scaring you.”

She leans forward and, with Rapunzel's eyes flickering to her lips receptively, kisses her softly. Rapunzel returns the enthusiasm and Cass realises, in a real moment of panic, that she might never have kissed Rapunzel again.

“I'm so glad you're okay,” Rapunzel whispers, before kissing Cass again. “I love you so much.”

“I'm really sorry,” Cassandra utters, trembling as Rapunzel pulls her in close. “And I love you too, Raps.”

[founderslover]

...

"So, Lady Kasai, how was your experience at the meeting?" Hashirama inquired, leaning over the desk with a bright, welcoming smile on his face. Kasai stood in front of him, a content expression on her face as the sun beamed on her from the windows behind the desk, feeling at ease with his polite and chivalrous presence.

"I was delighted to meet the Ladies of the Village, and they were very hospitable, considering I was a new member of the comittee. They were very nice to me." She answered with the most radiant smile. The amount of kidness from people that flooded her these past couple of days- now that she was officially Madara Uchiha's fiancee- has been so overwhelming it has left her in a state of euphoria. Wherever she were, her dimples did not leave her face as people greeted her as a Lady. Well, not yet- she wasn't yet married to Madara. But considering her reputation as a beautiful and compassionate soul who helped the needy and fed the orphans, people respected her.

The Ladies of the Village held a comittee whenever there was a project going on. These Ladies were wives to the head of a clan residing in Konoha, and had made a considerable amount of influence in the village. It was they who planned charities for the low-incomed as well as handling the bazaar businesses and festivites. Now, Kasai would be a part of these powerful women.

"I'm so happy to hear that!" Hashirama clapped his hands together, "I am very joyous that you have found your respectable position in the village to propose and decide. Thank you, Kasai."

Kasai thanked him back cheerfully as he dismissed her to go about her day. As she closed the door behind her to his office, her eyes caught the glimpse of a shadow lurking in the hallway, walking with heavy steps. It didn't take much to gather that the person wearing the blue-colored armor was Tobirama Senju facing his back to her. His presence frightened her- not that she was scared of him, but she was aware of what he was capable of. He killed her lover's brother, and nearly killed her lover too. Not only that, but he hindered him from becoming Hokage as well. What was she to make of him? Foe? Ally? The urge to find out was at the tip of her tongue.

"Tobirama." She called for him. Before she could realize what she was doing, the tall silver-haired man turned around to look for the caller of his name, only to find the young Uchiha staring back at him. There he was with his apathetic face, red markings painted on it.  She was shocked that he actually heard her, and lowered her eyes nervously.

Tobirama barely knew Kasai. They had crossed path before, but only to greet each other in the coldest way possible. He knew she was an associate of Madara, so he avoided her as much as possible. He received enough icy glares from him whenever she was around the Senju, so Tobirama understood the signal. "Yes?"

He slowly strode towards her, mounting over her tiny figure. Her eyes looked up at his red ones, collecting herself as to appear more composed and unruffled, but also welcoming and cordial to proclaim peace between them. "Thank you for responding to my call, despite of what you may think of me... or my clan."

Tobirama raised his eyebrow questionably, but then sighed as he crossed his arms, "I do not have anything against you or your clan, only the deviants and the schemers."

"I will acknowledge the deviated in my clan, but deviation exist in every clan, Tobirama. Even in yours. Mine is nothing in particular." Kasai retorted.

Tobirama looked down as he sighed, "I do not have the time nor the energy to discuss politics with you, Miss Kasai. I understand your affiliation with Madara Uchiha restricts you from talking to me. So of what business do you want me for?"

Her eyes sharpened, "You are the killer of my fiance's brother, and the wall that blocked him from power. You tell me, Tobirama. What should I consider you as? You have done me no harm. Can I trust you?"

Tobirama's stoic and aloof expression remained plastered on his face, but a hint of curiosity was there in his gestures as he pondered over her question. She was bold, and could have the same possible motives as Madara, but he knew of her reputation by Hashirama and Mito's testimony of her. She was a respected woman who respected the village back. He had to admit it; she was safe from all doubts that he held against her clan.

"If you don't show me a reason for me to think that you are a deviant and a degenerate, then there will be no reason for me to reach a conclusion. You are safe as long as your loyalty belongs to the village."

Kasai smiled. The answer was satisfactory. Had she not encountered Tobirama today, she might have felt the doubts fretting on her every time they would have crossed paths. Now that they had settled the status of their relationship, she wouldn't have to worry anymore. "Thank you."

However, in the shadows drifted two dark eyes that consumed anger and wrath at what they were seeing. They watched on with detest, loathing the presence of the silver-haired Senju. They've had enough.

"Kasai!" The two turned their heads towards the man in front of them, revealing himself to be Madara Uchiha. Kasai looked nervous as she watched the two men glaring swords at each other, as if exchanging unspoken words about the rules that were just broken. Madara looked visibly enraged that he had dared breathe in the same direction as his woman. "Come here."

Not wanting to come inbetween the couple's disagreement that would start because of his intrusion, and also to avoid his enemy in front of him, Tobirama took his chance, "I have work to do." He muttered as he left for his office, leaving Kasai with her infuriated lover that gave her the same agonizing glare.

All of a sudden, Madara pulled her by her arm as he marched toward his own office. The grip on her arm was so tight, her blood stopped circulating there. He was so angry it terrified her. He stormed inside his office and pulled her into it, making her look into his raging eyes, "Haven't I warned you a million times to never speak to Tobirama, ever?!" He yelled, making her jump.

"I-I... W-We were just talking-"

"You are not allowed to talk to him! He is dangerous and unpredictable. I have made it clear to you that he is a red zone and that you should stay away from him! Have I not?!"

"Yes, you have, but..." she trailed off, fidgeting for a justifiable reason for her disobedience. A big part of her blamed herself for not even following a simple rule that he had laid out for her. She felt like she had offended him to a high degree, but another part of her wanted to defend herself. They only spoke briefly, and he hadn't shown any reason for her not to be letting her guard down. "He didn't do anything! He was respectful and didn't show any sign of danger!"

"Still! Tobirama is my enemy. He killed Izuna, and has stood in my way several times! I don't want you anywhere near him. This is the last time I see you with him again, understood?!" Madara pointed his finger in her face as he commanding her. Kasai felt too meek, too timid in front of her love. She wanted to please him and stand by his side instead of associating with his enemies, but his animosity towards Tobirama was out of her character. Traits that did not belong to her nature. She was friendly with everyone and discriminated no one.

Kasai pouted as she crossed her arms and looked away from him, her arm still thumping from his tight grip before, "Fine. Whatever you say. I won't ever speak to him, and I apologize." She sniffled.

Madara, realizing that he sounded too harsh, sighed as he held her arms from behind, "I don't mean to scold you or admonish you in any way. But I can't stand that man, and you know that. You know what he have done. And I can't trust him with you, never!" He said, his tone a bit softened.

Kasai turned around, looking up at him with gentle eyes, laying a hand on his cheek, "And I understand you. But Madara, please, don't try and create future difficulties. If the situation requires me to face Tobirama in peaceful events, promise me you won't stand in my way."

Madara looked down on his lover, gritting his teeth. What a propostion. How could he let something like that happen? Kasai is the only thing he has left in this life, to risk that precious thing being in danger would be calamitous for him. He painfully contemplated on the subject, but his clenched jaw already revealed an answer, "I will have to think about it." He said as he looked away.

Kasai sighed, laying her hands on his chest, "As you wish. Just don't be angry, please." She pleaded, coming closer to him to feel his warmth around her. Madara looked down on her once again, and enclosed his arms around her little frame to give her reassurement and comfort. How could he stay angry at her? She was like a soft silk pillow that rubbed your head to dizziness and made you fall in the most pleasant slumber, dreaming of the smooth touch and seduction of the eyes. All of that belonged to him. And he would protect this blessing no matter what, even from his own self.

...