#somehow that flower makes his ear look smaller. cute

[philliamwrites]

SWYAATL 01: Unsre grüne Au

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x fem!Reader

Warnings: mature; blood, mild gore, angst, death of family members & loved ones

Summary: He takes your hand, so warm around yours, and places the ring in your open palm. It’s cool against your skin. “This is how you know I’ll always come back. Because when we grow up … we’ll get married.” You stare at him as though you’ve seen a god and that god shares Emil’s name.

Notes: 02 Masterlist ○ SWYAATL playlist ○

A/N: I highly recommend using InteractiveFics! The values are [Name] and [Last Name].

01: Unsre grüne Au

Es blüht ein schönes Blümchen Auf unsrer grünen Au.

— Beginning of Hoffman’s poem: Forget-Me-Not

❀❀❀

Emil Gruender has always been a quiet child.

Where other boys your age are only interested in competing who’s the loudest, who’s the brashest, who’s the strongest, Emil is reserved, calm. Most people think he’s shy—the cute, little boy from Her Inflorescence’s flower shop who’s always diligent on his deliveries. Always on time, always quick and good at counting. He’s never given back change wrong, has never been impolite to customers. The other boys from your neighbourhood try to rile him up, to get him angry. They find him annoying. Always praised by the adults even though he’s not doing anything special.

But that’s the thing about Emil. He doesn’t try to be special, doesn’t try to stick out. He keeps his opinions to himself, he doesn’t go into a conversation hungering for conflict. When the other boys, younger and older, half a head taller and smaller, swarm him, Emil remains calm. Unbothered. Uncaring.

It’s a miracle he hasn’t been punched yet.

Somehow you think the other kids don’t really have the courage to do it.

Mature. No, sublime. That’s the word coming to your mind when you think of him. Sort of like a saint. But more like the saints in the chapel of Shiganshina with their impassive, absent features as they keep cold vigil over people. Not like the benevolent saints and heroes from your mother’s stories and fairy tales with their ability to heal the wounded with just a flick of their fingers.

Emil doesn’t care much about the other kids.

He does very much care about you though.

It comes with the benefit of having a mother for a bookseller with a hunger for stories, and a father for a cartographer with a steady hand that never wavers. At least that’s what Marianne told you, and she knows a lot. Her parents are teachers. She’s told you none of your friends would play with you were your parents not people with respectable and important jobs.

Maybe that’s why all the other kids don’t get along with Emil, for his parents sell flowers and everyone says flowers are useless. Pretty gifts, but prone to wither within a short time.

It’s never bothered you, nor your mother whenever your father brings her some. She’d always smile, that brilliant, thousand-sunrise smile that would make your father suck in a breath as if he’s taken a blow to the gut.

You try doing that to Emil, to smile at him whenever he plugs a red moss rose into your hair or puts little dried, purple phlox between the pages of the books you’re carrying with you.

Emil would always wrinkle his nose a little. “You’re making that funny face again,” he’d say, with some concern.

You’d immediately abandon the attempt and change the subject. “What do they mean?” He’s taught you every flower has its own meaning, speaks its own language.

“You can read.” His usual answer as he turns away, his ears red. “Look it up yourself.” Ah, his favourite lesson. You have to put in effort for everything. Strife for knowledge, fight with purpose. Anything gained by doing nothing doesn’t mean anything.

Somehow you never manage or can’t find the right books. You know he’s teasing you, but it’s fine. You really like that he’s treating you different from anyone else.

“That’s because you like him,” Mom says one day, summoning your father to her side like an autumn storm sweeping through the streets.

“That boy from the flower shop?” Ink smudges still wet on his cheeks, Dad adjusts the reading glasses on his slightly crooked nose. “I mean, there’s certainly worse to fancy—“

Your mother silences him with an elbow to his side. “And something tells me that he likes you as well,” she continues with a quiet smile like she’s in on a secret not meant for you.

Like. You know what that means. Your mother likes your father, your father likes your mother. Michael, the butcher’s son, likes Lisa with her golden hair and eyes green like meadows in spring even though she’s cruel and throws stones at the blind veteran living in the old shack on the other side of town close to the wall. Princesses like princes in your mother’s stories, especially after they save them from evil wizards or fire spitting dragons.

And you like Emil Gruender, because he’s Emil. Quiet, calm Emil with a knack for speaking to flowers and braiding them into radiant, colourful crowns for you to wear.

You’re 10 years old when you acknowledge this feeling for the first time, this complex, disastrously beautiful thing called love.

❀❀❀

Two years later, on the day your world is torn asunder, Emil wants to meet you down at the meadow near the canal where he usually sits amidst the wildflowers that grow rampant. Somehow it’s only this one spot where they bloom. The sun doesn’t even rise high enough over the wall some days, but Emil told you that’s exactly what makes them special. That they grow under adversity and persevere, and that makes them so damn beautiful.

Like humans, he’d say.

You spot him immediately; his pale blond mop of unruly hair that stands out against the vibrant flowers. He’s sitting cross-legged, head bowed and focuses on whatever’s lying in his lap. Another crown, you notice once you’re close enough. This one a necklace of daisies and forget-me-not. A smile breaks free across your face, stretches up to your cheeks.

“You should sell them,” you say in lieu of hello. Emil doesn’t even flinch, nothing breaks his concentration—you’re sure a Titan could appear and it wouldn’t disturb him. “When we go over to Shiganshina tomorrow, you’d earn a fortune.”

“I don’t just make them for anyone,” Emil says, his blue eyes darting up to you. A warm feeling blossoms in your chest. It makes you want to lie down and roll around in the flowerbed and squeal like a little mouse granted a delicious slice of cheese. Instead, you sit beside him and watch. The sun barely peeks over the wall, warming the back of your neck. Emil’s face, cast in half-shadow, is relaxed and soft. His lashes, long pale crescents, flutter when he blinks. You lean in, trying to count them one by one.

“You asked me what I wanted to do when I’m older,” Emil begins, his eyes rising to yours and then quickly disappearing again behind the thick fringe of his lashes as he looks down again. “And I’ve got my answer.”

You wait for him to continue. The day is warm. Somewhere further on the main road, where houses nestle close against the wall and the main path leads up to the cluster of buildings constituting the suburb outside of Shikanshina District, you can hear children laugh. It’s a beautiful day.

“You know I want to see the world outside the walls.” Emil halts his work. He smiles at you, that smile that’s like a light suddenly being turned on in every dark room of a house. “So I’m going to join the Survey Corps.”

You inhale sharply. Lean back. The light blinds you. Emil watches you pull your knees up to your chin; as your eyes take in the insurmountable wall surrounding you to all sides.

Your voice is very quiet. “Mom and Dad say they’ve returned from their expedition today. And that a lot of people died and got hurt.”

Emil hums. His fingers move again, a quick dance only he knows by heart. Always with purpose. “We all die one day,” he says in the tone adults use when they want to show children they know it all. Usually, it makes you angry. With Emil, never. “But I don’t want to die in here, caged like a bird that doesn’t know what it’s like to fly.”

Stretching your legs out again, you take care not to crush any flowers and crane your neck back to look up at the vibrant blue sky. Single clouds, soft like sheep, drift lazily over your head. “You really think we’ll achieve freedom one day?”

“I don’t think so.” Emil gently prods the petals of a white, star-shaped flower. The soft breeze makes its head bow as if it nods in agreement. “I know it.”

“But outside are Titans,” you state the obvious. It doesn’t sound right. It’s more like you actually want to say But I won’t be outside.

“Titans, yeah. And also a whole wide world to see and explore.” Emil pauses again. He draws a breath and lifts his eyes, courage settling on his shoulders. “There’s going to be so much I want to see and tell you about.”

To hear you’re in this future he’s imagining for himself is wind in your sails, propelling you forward and lifting your courage. It makes you bold. It gives you hope. Your lips curl; another smile breaks across your face.

Crossing your arms, you cock your head towards him. “Bold that you think I’m sticking around here and wait for you.”

Emil snorts but he looks almost pleased. The crown is nearly done. “You’ll be here. And I’ll come back to you. I will always come back to you.”

The smile hurts your face. But there’s another pain—much subtler, humming in a low throb—sitting deep inside your chest like a hook under your skin.

“You don’t know that.” No more teasing in your voice. You meet his eyes, not shying away when you’d usually feel heat creep up your face from the intensity of his stare. “You don’t know what happens outside the walls. What’s out there. Everyone says the Survey Corps is a lost cause. That there’s no hope for us.” You’ve seen them. The Survey Corps passing your suburb on their way to their headquarters. Men and women beaten too many times to stand up again, shadows of their former selves now marked by their wounds and trauma. You don’t want to see Emil ending up like them. Like a broken vessel of what once was someone you loved.

Emil’s arms brush your shoulders as they lift to place the crown upon your head. He’s so close you see your own reflection in his blue, blue eyes.

Blue like the infinite sky. Blue like forget-me-not. Such a beautiful, beautiful blue.

Content with his work, Emil rummages in his pockets and produces a silver ring with a tiny, scarlet glass orb in its middle. His face is ablaze, an angry red flush that creeps from his neck up to his face.

Your heart stops as he holds the ring under your nose.

“Then, if you can’t believe in the Survey Corps, believe in me,” Emil says. He holds your gaze, and you don’t look away as he goes on. “You gave me a promise. Now I give you something in return.”

He takes your hand, so warm around yours, and places the ring in your open palm. It’s cool against your skin. “This is how you know I’ll always come back. Because when we grow up … we’ll get married.”

You stare at him as though you’ve seen a god and that god shares Emil’s name. The sun slowly dips behind the wall, but you don’t feel cold. You’ve never felt this warm, this safe before. Staring from the ring up to Emil and back, you struggle for the right words.

“You didn’t … steal it, did you?”

It’s not what Emil has expected, and he bursts out laughing—sudden and jarring like a thunderclap. “What do you take me for?”

“I didn’t know you own something like this,” you reply, voice only a whisper in awe. It’s beautiful. The ruby glints as you look at it from all sides, as if there’s fluid inside catching the light and bouncing it off.

Emil takes it from you with a patient smile and holds your hand. “It is very, very important to me. And you are very, very important to me.” He slides the ring on your finger, and you both giggle how big it is. It’s fine. You’ll grow into it. You’ve read so many times about this in books. The answer is always yes. Your answer will always be yes with Emil.

“This is my promise,” he whispers. “I will always come back.”

Together forever. Neither of you says it, but it’s hanging in the air, sweet as the blooming wildflowers around you. You take a deep breath.

In this moment, you are invincible.

“Okay,” you breathe, unable to properly convey the weight of this feeling you want to share with him.

“Okay.” Emil smiles.

“Okay,” you repeat, holding up your pinky finger.

Emil’s eyes immediately soften. He grins, and locks his with yours. “Okay.”

Bell chimes rise from the nearby watchtower. Your heads swivel around, pinkies still interlocked. Garrison soldiers rush towards the open gate, pulling and pushing cannons to the other side of the wall.

Fear rattles inside you like a marble in a jar. Emil jumps to his feet, his eyes wide in absolute terror. He’s gone a sickly grey colour, like the ashes of a dead fire. Before he can say it, someone is screaming it.

Titans.

He’s pulling you up the meadow towards the road. Now you can hear them, screams echoing from the other side of Wall Maria. Shiganshina District is overrun by Titans yell those around you running for their life. Emil’s grip around your hand is bruising. Somewhere on the way up the hill, you’ve lost your flower crown.

Garrison soldiers barrel past, tall and with sharp blades drawn to defend the people inside the walls with their life. But each and every passing face draws a different picture of horror and fear. Disbelief even.

100 years of peace. Gone up in fire and smoke.

Canon blasts at your back make your ears ring, blending with the swelling orchestra of screaming people as they flee in terror at the rumbling of the footsteps that herald the monsters’ arrival.

This must be it. The sound of the end.

Emil keeps pushing forward against the tide of sudden refugees streaming through the gates. They pull you left and right, apart from each other until he can’t hold on and lets go, unfolding your fear into a living thing.

“Emil!” you shout. A tall man rushes past, almost knocking you off your feet with his tall knees. He barely glances back, but he eyes you as if you’re a cockroach beneath his boots, clearly in his way. It’s the vendor with the funny moustache that always gives you strawberries or peaches for free when you visit him.

By now, you can’t see Emil anymore. Too many people rush through the gate towards the evacuation ships. But then his voice carries over the crowd, over the sound of crying children, screaming women—you’d always recognise his voice everywhere, anytime.

“[Name]! Go find your parents! Come to our shop and we’ll leave together!”

“I’ll find you later, Emil!” you shout back, hands around your mouth, hoping he can hear you. “I’ll find you!”

“I know!” You think your eyes catch a shock of silver hair peeking between tall legs. “I know you will!”

There’s more, there is so much more you want, need to say, but a hard shove sends you flying to the ground. Dust and dirt blows in your face, you swallow half of it and choke.

“Move!” people scream.

“Faster!” they urge.

“Help!” they beg.

And finally, “They’re closing the gate!!”

Tears burn behind your eyes. You have to find Mom and Dad and meet up with Emil and then you all will move to the evacuation vessels and flee behind Wall Rose where it’s safe, where the Titans can’t reach you.

First, you have to get up. You have to get up even though your knees hurt and your palms are scraped bloody from your fall and you just want to get back to Emil and talk more about your future. You want him to keep holding your hand.

Get up. Dad has always told you that during a crisis finding a safe place is the most important thing. They must be waiting for you at home, inside the secure construction of familiarity. Home. You have to get home.

Someone’s foot stomps too close to your outstretched hand on the ground. You climb to your feet, barely able to regain your balance when you’re shoved again, this time face planting so hard you immediately taste blood in your mouth. Someone spits “Stupid bitch” at you—a very, very bad word that hurts so much more than the searing pain throbbing through your body like the fast, stumbling rhythm of a song—but there’s no time to grasp your surroundings.

Strong hands hook under your armpits and yank you up on your feet. The sudden repositioning gives you vertigo, your mind can’t keep up with everything that’s happening—and then your mother’s face appears before you, stricken with fear and worry.

“Oh thank God, you’re safe.” She almost chokes on her words, pulling you into a strong embrace. She smells of sandalwood and chicken soup. In a different world, you would have lunch now.

“Come on, come on.” You father’s voice booms, demanding you to move but his big, warm hand on top of your head is gentle. Safe. Relief washes over you, so strong and urgent it sprouts new strength within you. You hold tight onto your mother as she urges you along to join the other refugees.

Everything will be fine.

Now you only have to find Emil and all will end well. It’s no problem. You’ve always found Emil.

A crack, loud like thunder. Like the earth is splitting in two, dying. Your head whips around in time to see the giant Titan break through the wall, sending large boulders flying through the air in all directions. They sail in magnificent arcs, soar with an ease through the sky that birds would envy. You watch in awe as one of them soars towards you, growing larger and larger—and you realise there is no way you can get out of its way in time.

Of all the thoughts flashing through your mind in that moment—you still need to help Dad sort through some of his old, unused tools; your friend Dominique living in Shiganshina has borrowed your Tales of a Songstress without returning it yet; Mom wants to try out a new pastry recipe and you agreed to help—only one strikes roots deep into your heart to bruise your entire existence. I still haven’t told Emil how I feel.

There’s still so much you need to tell him. You haven’t properly conveyed all that he needs to know.

Regret. What an awful, ugly feeling eating you from inside before you even had a chance at life.

Your mother halts. You knock into her legs, wanting to hold onto her. At least you’d find your end in this world the same way that it had begun: in your mother’s warm and safe embrace. But she gives you one hard push, away from her, out of the boulder’s shadow that swallows your parents.

It’s funny how you’ve seen insects squash beneath your mother’s slipper or your father’s hand and never really thought about the split second between life and death—consciousness and the absence of everything: feeling, thought, awareness. Pain. Insects die within a blink—snap. Just like that.

Humans die messy. Bones crack, blood splashes, shit sprays. The boulder squashes your parents into a bloody pulp, burying them alive beneath cold, hard stone. There and gone within a blink—splat. Just like that.

It takes one, two, three seconds until your brain catches up with what just happened. Three seconds of blissful shock where you don’t feel, don’t think, don’t understand. And then it all crashes down on you, everything caves in and you feel too much at once.

Dead.

They’re dead.

Mom and Dad.

This isn’t real. This can’t be real. Maybe … maybe you can save your father. His feet, bloody and angled all wrong stick out from under the bolder. Maybe he’s fine and you can pull him out.

You don’t get a chance. A Garrison soldier snatches you up into his strong arms, his black curls plastered onto his sweaty forehead as he’s running towards the evacuation boats. He screams but you don’t hear him—no, it’s you who’s screaming, wailing for your mom and dad, hot tears burning on their way down your cheeks.

He’s thrown you over his shoulder, smelling of sweat and something else; something bitter, something primal and raw—fear?—away from the huge hole in Wall Maria. Away from the Titan that broke through it. It’s different. This one doesn’t look like the Titans from your mother’s picture books. Steam curls around his slightly opened mouth, golden pinpricks of sharp eyes flash. Its skin is armour, tough and unbreakable and maybe that’s why none of the soldiers are trying to kill it. No one is even trying to take it down even though it did not hesitate tearing down Wall Maria. Your home. Your parents. Your life.

Carried away, unable to do anything; powerless to do anything, you witness the pitiful spectacle of humanity’s impotence. A reminder of the terror of being dominated by them and the shame of being held captive in a cage like cattle.

Freedom has never tasted so foreign, so unreachable.

Freedom.

You choke on your sobs, sight coming into focus so suddenly it gives you whiplash. Emil. There’s still hope once you find Emil.

“Let go.” Struggling against the soldier’s hold, your head whirls around as you try to figure out how far off the main road you are. A squeaky shop sign catches your attention, reading Schmidt’s Bakery. The side road leading to Emil’s house isn’t too far. Now you begin to struggle with more vigour. “I have to—find Emil.”

“Stop moving, we’re almost at the evacuation side,” the soldier barks.

But you won’t leave without Emil, this certainty is engraved into your heart like the never changing law that when the sun sets it also rises and day becomes night becomes day again and continues forever. You and Emil are forever.

“Let me—” You grunt, and without thinking bite into the soldier’s ear. “GO.”

Blood explodes in your mouth, its taste a punch to your senses. Do Titans taste like humans taste? Do they relish in the coppery smell, the warmth? Nausea overwhelms you, disarms you until you find yourself back on the ground, your back taking the worst of the impact.

“What the fuck?” the Garrison soldier shrieks. You don’t look back, already bolting past the bakery towards the side road enclosed by tall buildings. Emil. Only Emil is important right now.

The path is the same as always. You could walk it at night, with your eyes closed, for your heart knows to lead you to where you belong. Down to the end of the path, a sharp right and up the stairs separating the higher and lower parts of the suburb. Past Fiona’s house—

—graceful Fiona who’s the best at hopscotch and there she is lying, the pink inside of her head spilled before the entrance like mashed fruit and her parents are crying before her, but why is her father pointing the rifle at himself; BANG—

You’re too scared to turn around—

—and now Fiona’s mother screams but it grows distant as you follow the cobblestone path to where Dad always visits his favourite barber—used to visit his favourite barber—where it always smells of fresh laundry, hanging out in the sun to dry as women flock together to share news, gossip, trade little secrets to season, sweeten, spice up meals. Never again.

You race between court yards, climb over debris—how has destruction caught up so fast—past one of the covered closes between a fruit stand and an alehouse. Smashed peaches, oranges, apples drape the ground like intestines turned inside out, squashing under your feet. The sound makes you sick.

Close. You’re so close. Almost there. You lurch around the last corner—

Nothing.

There is nothing.

You heart pounds like thunder. Where once Her Inflorescence stood, a neat two store building with a peaked crimson roof and a wide door painted brightly in yellow, the front wall covered in ivy, only the ghost of a house remains. It’s collapsed like a little toy thing, like a child threw a temper tantrum and decided it’s grown tired of it.

But worse is the smell. Sweetness. Floral sweetness from countless trampled, squashed, ripped out flowers mixing with the smoke from rising fires. Someone must be burning down houses in hopes of hurting or at least slowing the Titans.

Fear jams up your throat. It leaves a hole in your chest, a gaping wound you know won’t heal. You know this as bones know their breaking stress. You heart hammers, as though you’re in free fall, as though the ground is slowly disappearing beneath you.

“Emil?” It’s barely a whisper, but you repeat his name over and over again. Your prayer. When silence is your only answer, you stumble closer to the wreck. “Emil, where are you?”

If he’s been waiting inside his house for you, if he’s still under all the stone and wood and everything—

You couldn’t save your parents, but you have to save him.

Stone cuts into your palms. Splinters wedge into your skin. Blisters grow and break. Your little arms shake from overexertion, your muscles burn but you don’t stop. You can’t stop. There’s a future waiting for you both, a promise to protect and a life you want to share with him only.

Why is everything so heavy? Why are you so weak? Why can’t you do anything?

Your throat is raw from screaming, your red-rimmed eyes hurt from crying, and still you lift and lift, find his mother’s favourite, elegant dark-wood cupboard in broken pieces; his father’s guitar, all strings snapped; broken flower pots and buckets; the painting Emil’s great-great-grandfather created of this beautiful, imagined pink-petalled tree overlooking a steep cliff. Where are they? Where is he?

Voices. Too focused on unearthing what remains of the house, you only notice the approaching refugees when they’re already too close.

“Kid, we gotta get outta here!” Strong arms haul you up—why keeps everyone just picking you up like a weightless sack of trash, why don’t they just leave you be—but you cling to the debris, leaving bloody hand prints.

“No!” You try to kick at the man but exhaustion renders you weak. “No, I have to find Emil! I have to keep my promise!” Someone is screaming—Titans, Titans are coming!—you want them to shut up and help searching. You’d be so much faster if someone helped. “We can’t be together if he’s here and I don’t find him!”

“Just leave her!” a woman’s voice shrieks, and suddenly someone’s tearing your clothes in the opposite direction.

More voices. They’re so loud, you can’t hear your own thoughts.

Shut up, shut up. “Shut up, shut up!” you scream, but they don’t stop arguing.

“I’ll be damned if I allow those fuckers to eat another one of us,” the man rasps. He dodges your arm swinging but your elbow grazes his temple and his head whips around and he gives you a wild, dark look, one that chills you to the bone and locks your limbs up in fear. His hands around your arms hurt, he starts shaking you so hard something pops in your neck. “It’s always the same with you, can’t you fucking behave for once, Anna? This is serious!”

The woman tries to jump between you, her crimson hair unravelling under her headscarf like tendrils of fire. “She’s not our daughter, Anna is dead,” she cries. “Leave heeeeeeeeer!” The rest of her sentence turns into a high-pitched scream as fingers, thick as tree trunks, curl around her body and lift her from the ground right into the gaping mouth of a black haired, wide eyed Titan that’s crouching behind a house. Her scream cuts off abruptly when its teeth snap off her head from her neck, painting its own chin crimson as blood spurts from the grizzly stump.

Dead. Just like that.

The man looks up at the Titan eating his wife with a mute expression of horror before he turns and without another word, you still tugged under his arm, bolts. You’re powerless, tired, scared. Every rasping sob feels like sawblades in your chest, cutting you open from the inside. When your sight finally comes back into focus—how much can a single person cry until all tears have dried up?—you’re down by the river, standing before the mass of people trying to get onto the vessels. Some have already started leaving the docks.

“Children and mothers first, children and mothers, then the elderly, now pick up the pace, people! Come on!”

The tension is palpable enough to cut with a knife. Who knew how much longer the frail order could be maintained by the Garrison soldiers, how much longer people would hold onto their senses before overthrowing moral, allowing their primal fear to rule them.

The man simply allows the soldiers to carry you to the very front, he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even look at you. Two parts of him have died today and now nothing is left. His eyes. His eyes are dead, and you wonder if they’re a mirror of your own.

But when your feet are back on solid ground after you’ve boarded the ship, you scramble away from the soldiers and up at the railing to look over what’s left of the town. Titans are swarming the entrance, catching those who aren’t fast enough. Eating them. Breaking their bones, snapping their necks. All with glassy eyes, crooked smiles. The devils are upon you, bringing forth the end of mankind.

As your eyes roam over the crowd, over so many still waiting to get on board of a vessel, still hoping for safety beyond Wall Rose, you hope to find one person only.

“Emil,” you whisper, eyes scanning the crowd, hoping to spot a flash of silver hair, the colour of stardust. Babies and children are crying. Families, torn apart, try to convey their last hopes and wishes.

“Emil,” you say, leaning so far over the railing you could fall over any second. Soldiers scream for order, but scared people are hard to control for their fear is turning into a living thing.

“Emil!” you shout. If he’s here somewhere, he’ll hear you. He’ll come to you. Desperate men and women try to jump onto the ship. One man manages to grab onto the edge, but no one helps him up. On the other end, a women loses balances and falls off. When she hits the ground, her head splits open like a watermelon.

“EMIL!” you scream, no wail, the sound more like a wounded animal than human.

A sharp slap. Suddenly, your world turns quiet. Searing pain slashes across your cheek as you tumble off the railing, whimpering. Above you towers a Garrison soldier, and after he’s kicked the man who just managed to climb onto the vessel off it, he turns to you and spits, “Shut the fuck up you stupid brat before the Titans come after us!”

“Back off, man!” A young man shoves the soldier away. He’s hunched over slightly, a make-shift bandage across his head made out of tattered fabric covers a wound. “What the fuck is wrong with you, hitting a child?!”

The Garrison soldier points at you with a dirty finger. “That fucking kid might get us all killed!”

“You don’t fucking slap a child!”

You don’t want to be here. Crawling away from their shouting, between broken men and defeated women, sobbing children, you make your way to the bow. It’s quieter here, a little less crowded. No one wants to be here and look back at what they’re leaving behind—what they have to surrender to the Titans. You manage to drag your small, beaten body, refusing anything more than slow, careful movements, against the railing, eyes fixed on your hometown slowly disappearing as you head into the uncertain future.

There’s the meadow, growing smaller and smaller. You can barely spot the flowers. Not too long ago, you and Emil sat there and promised each other to be together. Now, it feels like a dream. A beautiful dream that ended to throw you into the reality of this cruel world.

Something presses into your hand painfully. When you open your palm, Emil’s ring sits in the imprint it has left in your skin—you’ve been clutching it inside your fist the whole time.

The ring.

The only thing left of him. Of your promise.

You tug it back into your palm, away from the world, save from its cruelty, and cry.

One, two long minutes pass as the world turns quiet. When you close your eyes, images flash in the dark, vibrant and forever-lasting in your mind: Emil’s smile, Mom allowing you to taste-test what would become your favourite stew, Dad instructing you how to change his ink cartridge without spilling anything. The glowering, bright eyes of the enormous Titan breaking through the wall, Dad’s feet sticking out from under the stone. The very last time Mom looked at you. The painting of the tree in Emil’s house usually hanging by the entrance. Emil’s smile.

In the darkness, a voice reaches you. “I’ll exterminate them … I’ll clean out this world.”

You open your eyes. Against the railing, a boy stands, gripping it hard enough his knuckles turn white. His eyes—vibrant, furious viridian—are fixed on a future only he can see as he declares to the world, “I’ll kill them! Every single fucking one of them that’s on this earth!”

You curl into yourself, in this small space only belonging to you, and look down at the ring again. This time, you promise something yourself: You vow to get stronger. Once you’re stronger, no one will be able to take away what’s important to you. Once you’re stronger, you’ll never have to break a promise again.

Once you’re stronger, you will kill the armoured Titan.

a/n: Translation: There blooms a beautiful flower / On ours green meadow.

Moss rose mean “confessions of love”; phlox means “our souls are united”; daisy means “loyal love” and forget-me-not “remembrance, true love”

And just to make sure about one thing: yes, this isn’t the last time we’re dealing with Emil.

Please no manga ending spoilers until the anime catches up/ends! Thanks!

○ twitter ○ if you enjoyed it and wanna leave a tip ○ ao3 ○

[undead-merman]

Heyo! I loved your headcanons for the brothers and Simeon as sirens, they were a truly *chef kiss*. Can we also have siren Barbatos and Diavolo? Yandere too and sfw, please!

Thanks in advance!

I'm always down to write Aquatic monsters.

🧜‍♂️Siren Diavolo and Barbatos🧜‍♂️ as a yanderes GN- reader SFW

Diavolo

Appearance

Diavolo is much, much larger than other sirens. While sirens grow to be about a foot or two bigger than humans, Diavolo is massive, fifteen feet long and with tons of bulk and muscle to match his massive size. He looks more similar in size to a giant than a siren.

Despite his size he is dazzling in the sun. When his crimson hair catches beams of light he looks divine, almost like a holy glow surrounds him as he rests on the rocks. His tail is the same stunning red as the blood red sunset and has a bright pearlescent. His scales are just as reflective and polished as a bright red sports car. His skin is deeply kissed by the sun, making his skin look smooth and shiny. His nightshade red fins are long and butterfly shaped; they trail slightly behind him like silk.

He wears all kinds of jewels and golds, all of them perfectly fit around his skull and fins. They drift perfectly around his large frame and glimmer even in the smallest amount of light.

Diavolo is the only siren able to keep his glamor up even if he’s excited, in the water, or even angry. He has full control over it and only shifts to it when he’s actively trying to strike fear into something or someone. His true form is like that of sea monsters in folktales, monstrous in size and able to take a ship down into the dark depths of the open ocean, to swallow whole crews, and create winds and storms as he lets out a devilish scream which can be heard for hundreds of miles around.

Royalty amongst Loners and Sunken Hideaway

Despite their lone lifestyles, only really enjoying the company of their mates, most Sirens look to Diavolo as more of a god than any type of king or prince despite having the title of prince. They worship his power and bow down to his whims and needs. They bring him tributes in the form of small treasures and Diavolo returns these gifts with blessings of more intoxicating songs, stronger wills, his watchful eye and protection, or just overall greater strength. Diavolo seems to freely give these boons no matter how small the gift.

Since he’s a well known and well visited siren, he’s built his home in the sunken ruins of a castle in a city whose culture and history has died long ago. It’s well taken care of by servants who have pledged their lives to Prince Diavolo and are surprisingly pleasant and tolerable with one another. They equate this to Diavolo’s power and grace but only those who are truly loyal to Diavolo stay here.

His voice can bring either madness or blessings and can be the most beautiful thing your ears could ever hope to hear or one so evil, devious, and grotesque you’re driven into a hypnotic bloodlust to those with even the strongest wills. His lullabies sound so melancholic.

He hides away in a large garden which has its own open air biosphere bathed in light by a glass ceiling which has yet to crack yet bathes the whole garden in a beautiful light. A single golden curly willow grows in the center with dozens of flowers growing around it. Here the air is surprisingly fresh and floats on the surface never touching the water around it like it’s a time capsule. He’ll lounge here to clear his head watching the butterflies that have grown here, alone and have never seen the outside.

Spending time with you

You and only you heard his song and wept. The feelings of his loneliness tugged at your heart instead of your head being filled with euphoric thoughts of power and blessings or instantly pounding through your skull until you screamed. You truly heard his song, understood the lyrics behind them and felt the way he did when he sang them. When he saw your face littered with tears and face hot with sympathy for him he felt his whole body go numb. You were something special, someone truly remarkable. He needed to know more about you.

And so started a passion in his heart to learn everything about you, your traditions, your light quirks, your hobbies and everything he could possibly learn. It sent him down a rabbit hole of studying humans that he refused to climb out of and gladly let swallow him if it just allowed him to get closer to you and understand you better.

He doesn’t mind what form you see him in, as long as he can see you he’s thrilled and happy. He’ll approach you like a dog, his tail swishing excitedly as he asks you questions he formed in his head from the day. He has to be careful in his true form otherwise he can cause a lot of damage to the nearby area and draw too much attention to you two.

He loves to pick you up and hold you, be in his true form or not and travel with you on his back, or when his true form shows in his hands or on his head as he intentionally kicks up some water to playfully mist you. Moments like these make him forget he was ever even alone to begin with.

If you ever wanted to see some kind of sea creature or visit some island he’s happy to oblige bringing the creature over with his divine rule over the ocean or happily just takes you there one day while making you cover your eyes to surprise you. The look on your face makes his heart swell so much he almost feels like it will jump out of his mouth if he’s not careful.

Dark Tendencies

Diavolo isn’t against using others to get what he wants, he'll ruin everything for anyone or anything to get what he wants. He’ll destroy small islands and wipe out ports so nothing can distract you from dates he takes you on.

If he feels like you aren’t close enough to him or are drifting away from him, for some reason or another, he’s simply going to just pluck you away from your old life so you don’t have any excuse to be away from him anymore. You're his now, you don’t have to worry about that silly stuff anymore, both of you can be together now. Why not just get married now? It would be much easier. Siren’s don’t marry, they just pick a mate but he’s willing to put the frills on it for you and your human ways. He finds it cute!

He doesn’t ever connect the dots if you struggle against him or plead for him to let you go, he’s wrapped up in his own delusions of you being a happy little couple that he’ll blame some outside force. If you go along with him he’ll remain peaceful and sweet.

He absolutely hates it when other sirens see you and while he’s not outwardly violent to them he is quite hostile. Grinding his teeth and asking them to look away from you while his tail twitches with the intent to lash out.

He gave you your own little haven to decorate, he gave you the garden all for your own. He even made sure to promise to give you your own space and privacy here, just as long as you come to his call. Don’t worry though, only you, him, and Barbatos know of this place, and you can’t run from him here!

Misc stuff

His scales shed infrequently since he doesn’t get into fights with other sirens since all of them know better. His scales are radiating with his power and are well known to bring massive good luck to all those Diavolo gives them to. He’s always giving you things made from his scales and he’s so thrilled to see you in them. He likes adding them to a circlet crown he had made custom just for you so you can match him. He plans on matching you to him with every little piece of jewelry, even down to matching rings.

He requires you to sleep with him. He can sleep out of the water perfectly fine and just pulls you into a lavish den he made for the two of you. It’s somehow unbelievably cozy sleeping with him. His body is warm and everything he set up is the best out there. He just holds you in his warm arms and nods off with you.

He’s quite a picky eater. He refuses to eat anything he doesn’t like and will only eat it if you so happen to beg him to, but only if you're insistent, otherwise he’s already slowly drifting away from it.

Barbatos

Appearance

For a siren he’s smaller than most. He’s quite slender and not much muscle to him, but despite his size, his appearance is perfect in every way, not a hair out of position, not a scale that isn’t out of polished or asymmetric, and his skin without a blemish or scar to be found. He takes a huge amount of time to groom himself perfectly.

His scales more resemble sea snakes, even having black stripes like them, though his tail is a solid dark seafoam green. He’s not especially radiant compared to others, but he doesn’t mind at all, he prefers to melt into the background more.

His tailfin is wide though, having a lyretail shape with black stripes going across it. It’s the same dark color as his scales and he has only two side fins but they look like long ribbons stretching from his hips to about halfway down his tail.

His glamor when melted away leaves behind an even darker looking creature. He looks like a stormy sea and is covered in nasty sharp thorns that don’t just stop at his elbows but lead down to his hips and thin yet long and sharp claws and stark black webbing in between without a tear or hole.

Serving Another

Serving the Royal Family was an honor his family was born with for generations and one he realizes the importance to. Diavolo is powerful enough to sink ships and cities and he provided some of that power and grace onto him rewarding him and his ancestors before him for loyalty, slowly turning Barbatos’s family into nearly just as powerful creatures as him.

He enjoys watching the whims of a child like god try to make sense of a kingdom, it's good fun to see him enjoying his life he is able to live vicariously through his high energy.

He puts his all into everything he does, he hates wasted efforts so he does everything he can into what he does but it gets tiring. Sometimes when trying to sleep, he finds himself unable. He’s always had poor sleep but he’s dealt with it for so long now that it's normal for him now. He starts his morning eating a small slice of kelp known for reducing head pain, all while preparing for the morning.

Spending time with you

If Diavolo took an interest in a human then you certainly had to be interesting. Well when he met you and saw you drinking tea with a huge Diavolo stretched around the floating garden. He just knew you were a human with a soul like no other.

He often brings you your favorite beverages and chats with you, simply at first to get to know you but he found you captivating, each word you spoke he held onto like it was the last he would ever hear and it was gospel. He smiles as you recall old memories, describing how you ended up here. The way you phrased things was unlike anything he had ever heard.

He’s taken the time to find old waterlogged books that were left abandoned in the old library and help restore them for you to read. Inside you find wondrous and fantastical stories of this old kingdom all of them enthralling, and as you read he’s happy to bring you a beverage once more and enjoy your company even if it’s in silence.

Once he’s grown closer with you he often finds himself giving you lingering touches as he pats your shoulder for your attention or grazes his hand on yours when delivering food to you. He even says the most romantic and poetic things to you without even noticing. He falls in love slowly but deeply and almost innocently. He just treasures your time and you as a person, never judging or doubting you.

There was a day when he had pulled you into a parting hug, wishing you a goodnight as Diavolo would return you to the surface but he had simply fallen asleep in your arms. Even Diavolo was shocked as he had never done anything close to something like this. It turns out Barbatos is at the most ease when he’s with you. All of his sleepless nights had just suddenly caught up with him.

Dark Tendencies

His love quickly shifts one day when he see your finger pricked by a stray thorn from a wild flower and as he wiped up the blood with a handkerchief and sees those butterflies fluttering around the wound to drink the blood he realised just how fragile you really were and how nature and life take advantage of that as soon as it could. He couldn’t take losing you. So one day he calls you and just takes you. You think it's just another visit with Baratos fetching you but he takes you to a deep and dark underground cave. Soft phosphorus moss grows all over in cushioned patches and with every step it glows brighter under your feet.

He explains it all to you, openly and honestly but no matter how you plead or try to reason with you, he believes you need to be down here forever. Away from the outside world that would care so little for the death of you and move on like nothing were to happen. He wanted you safe, around and immortalized; he'll never forget you.

He provides you with an array of pleasantries that would have no chance of harming you. He’s damn near baby proofed the small cave but he ensures it's as comfortable as it can be, bringing you three meals a day, all of your favorite drinks and snacks even if you fight him or give him the silent treatment he’s never neglectful of your needs. He believes one day you’ll come to see how much he did for you and understand he just wants you safe.

Misc stuff

He’s a clean freak and refuses to let you sleep on dirt or muck, he’ll thoroughly wash the moss through and treat it so it feels like you're walking on clouds without feeling any slime, having bugs, or being dirty. It's so well taken care of that they look fake.

He hates crabs. He hates those distasteful bottom feeders, their disgusting pinchers and empty eyes. He’s sure to keep them as far away as he can, if startled by one he slams it with his tail with enough force to turn it into little pieces and he’s still frightened by them despite the power difference.

[flowertot-s]

Oh how about a little drabble about Cove and MC's first year anniversary? Coming from the point of if they started dating around 13, so it's all absolutely awkward teenagers. <3

oh lord here we go lovelies

requests are open <3

There’s three things that you need to know about Cove Holden. 

The first is that he’s one of the most genuine, thoughtful, and considerate people you’ll ever meet. The second is that he somehow never forgets a birthday or anniversary, no matter how seemingly innocuous or inconsequential the day may seem. 

The third is that he’s the dumbest boy you’ve ever had the misfortune of associating with.

This is how you found yourself sitting on your bathroom floor at 10pm on a school night playing doctor for your very stupid boyfriend. 

Admittedly, it’s not entirely his fault. The rain had made it incredibly difficult for him to maintain his usual dexterity on your windowsill, resulting in a fall that probably would’ve broken another bone had the hedges not been there to cushion his fall. It was a miracle that he hadn’t alerted the neighbours or the other occupants of your household. 

Cove walked away from his stumble a little shaken, if not nursing a heavily wounded pride and a wicked skid mark on his arm. 

The large bouquet of flowers and expensive-looking chocolates he held in a death grip on his plummet to the earth had not fared quite as well.

Cove at least had the decency to look a little embarrassed. He was seemingly unable to even meet your gaze, deciding that the tiles of your bathroom floor were a much more interesting subject. He winced a little as you cleaned around his wound as gently as you could. 

You chuckled, trying your best to alleviate the somewhat awkward mood that had settled between the two of you. “Remind me again why I put up with you?”

Cove sighed, resting his head on his good arm. Despite his slightly sour disposition, he had to fight to suppress his smile. “Honestly, I couldn’t tell you. Even I find it difficult to put up with myself sometimes.”

You let out an indignant huff. “Well, if you can’t do it, I guess I’ll have to pick up the slack and keep putting up with your shenanigans.”

He didn’t even bother trying to hide his grin this time. “And I’ll forever be grateful if you do.”

You smiled, giving his arm a light pat. Cove spoke up again, though his voice was significantly smaller than before. 

“...Sorry.”

You blinked up at him. “For what?”

“I… I don’t know. I just wanted to make today special, you know? Like… it meant a lot to you and somehow, I managed to screw it all up.”

A beat of silence passed between the two of you, and you could practically feel the nervous energy radiating from him. You mustered up the most reassuring look you could and tucked a stray piece of hair behind his ear. “Oh, Cove… you’re too cute, you know that?”

“What...? You can’t just come out and say things like that!”

“You’re so wonderful! Cove, I don’t care if the flowers got a little squished. I don’t even mind that this might not have been the most well executed plan you’ve ever come up with. What matters to me is that you cared enough to do this for me in the first place.”

“Of course I care! You’re important, this whole thing is important! If I can’t do this much for you, what kind of boyfriend am I?”

“Getting me flowers isn’t as important as not breaking another bone, you know.”

He halted for a second. “I mean, I guess so.”

You shook your head at him before resting your head on his shoulder. “Thanks, Cove, for everything. Happy anniversary.”

He sighed once again, his hand coming to rest awkwardly on the back of your head. “Happy anniversary… sorry I’m not very good at this.”

“...We’ll figure it out. Hopefully we can avoid any more serious accidents in the future.”

He let out a soft chuckle. “I don’t think I can promise that, but for you, I’ll try.”

“That’s all I could ever ask for.”

[mochikeiji]

Kinktober Day 4: Fortissimo

↠ Pairing: Atsumu Miya x Reader

↠ Warning: SMUT! Squirting, slight cunninglingus, size difference. Atsumu being a sadistic monster.

↬ Word Count: 1.4k

⇢ Day 4: Toys 

As we all know, Atsumu Miya was a cunning man; can be labeled as someone who can be such a jackass— as per his brother claims or someone who seems to have some sort of love and hate relationship with society. He hated noises. He hated being disrupted for when he knows he's about to make the greatest event in his life. For example, his volleyball serving. Remembering that day made the bones inside his body cringe and at the same time amuse him at his current state.

Admitting he was a jerk back in his youthful days for when he snarled at those two innocent, lady fans of his. They didn't deserve that, even he knew it at that time, but alas was too fond of his own ego. When adulthood reached his structure, he kept all of his comebacks and rude snarls filtered as he was being seen with you. What man would you like if he was only nice to you and rude to everyone?

But that doesn't change the fact that he is still somehow irritated to noises. That little habit of forcefully forming his hand into a fist, and lowering it to quiet the adoring world that surrounds him was still carried even in the new team, Black Jackals. Some people paid no attention to this and continued to cheer, angering him a bit before sending the crowd a menacing glare that sent a clear message,

"Shut yer trap, squealing pigs."

Atsumu Miya hated noises.

Yet here you are right now, whining and sobbing without a care if your neighboring apartment rooms could hear you as you were beyond help with Atsumu's taunting. He's had both of your arms pinned above your head using just one of his hand as the other stayed palming the erection forming in his pants from watching your intimate area spasm around the vibrating device that had been thrusted inside for what seemed like an hour before.

Wrists twisting with your fingers digging at the palms of your hand, you trashed around his hold wanting nothing more than to hide your lewd expressions and muffle away the sounds his goal was to make hoarse and throaty after.

"C'mon, darlin' let me hear you."

Hot breath fanning your ear along with the vibrations now set to its high pace. He was waiting for the right moment to click on the last, highest setting he knows would shatter your entire world. For now, he licks his lips at the sight of you panting, desperately grinding the immense pleasure and crying loudly for mercy.

"Tsumu, p-please.."

Looking at him with hazy eyes, all you could do was bite your lips to prevent yourself from whimpering at the animal like gaze his eyes cast upon your sweaty body. Removing his palm away from his pants, he slides it smoothly on the skin of your stomach and latches on to your left breast, giving it a small, circular massage whilst tapping and rubbing on the nub in a scrolling motion.

"If you give me what I want, I'll give you more than what you desire, darlin'."

Atsumu Miya hated noises, but yours was exception on your current state. All of your moans and mewls he replays like a song in his head during his own heated times. Even gets himself worked up too much at the simplest things you do. Seeing you hold it all back fuels him. The kink of having you under his control was seeping through his bones.

"Tsumu!!"

He tugs on the nipple of your left breast, your back arching away from the bed with your legs shutting themselves and rubbing each other to soothe away the intense vibrations. A hum was heard from him as he removed the hand that was pinning yours down. Changing position, he quickly sat in between your legs and with gentle force, he pushes them apart, hearing you choke a moan as you felt the bullet vibrator somehow thrust in on its own when he parts your legs.

"Keep this open, baby. Wanna see this cute cunt of yours ruined by a toy rather than my cock."

Inside his pocket was a small, pastel pink remote. He fishes it out and taps on the middle button. The vibrations setting on a delicious medium pace that made you drool and your toes curl. Atsumu places the remote next to your other leg and pulls your legs up to his shoulders. Strong hands holding you by your ass as he closes in with your spasming cunt.

"Mmm, yer fucking drippin'."

Sighing to his own pleasure, Atsumu couldn't help but let his tongue out for a taste of your essence. It would be ashamed to leave them sliding down your thighs and onto the sheets, that would be a waste of good meal for him. He slurps and slithers his tongue messily around your clit, feeling the vibrations on the wet muscle as he continues to eat you out.

"Mhmm!! Ah- Atsumu!"

How badly you wanted to grab onto him, but you knew if you did he would just end up torturing you the whole night if you made a mistake. Plus with the position you were in, it was beyond help. Atsumu has you right where he wanted you. Damn his height and strength, you cursed.

"Fuck, I wanna see you cum, baby girl."

After pulling away from your sopping pussy, he raises a single finger to slide up and down your slit, memorizing your previous reactions and how it drove you close to your orgasms before along whilst rubbing your clit in rough circles.

"Scream, baby. Lemme hear you, don't be shy now."

Groaning to his own pleasure, Atsumu grabs the remote beside you and furiously taps on the top button, where the highest setting point of vibrations zapped inside of your cunt as his finger pushes in the vibrator inside, enough for it to spasm around your most vulnerable spot without mercy.

"TSUMU!!! FUCK!"

Grinning proudly above you, he hands locked onto your calves to prevent you from slipping away from his shoulders. He lets your thighs shudder from the vibrations, with your hips rolling up to his view as if you wanted the vibrator to shake out of your poor cunt. The lewd spurts of your upcoming orgasm filled his ears with the vibrator slowly slipping out due to the wetness your were producing.

With a click of his tongue, he uses one hand to hold both of your ankles locked on his neck and pushes the vibrator back in deeply, his warm palm staying in place with your clit grinding against him.

"Come on, little girl. Scream."

His voice and his fingers pressing at the base of the vibrator was enough to put you on edge. Your screams were high pitched, but it wasn't irritating to his ears. The rush of the heat inside you was strong. Far different from your previous orgasms when he tormented you. He was grinning happily when he heard you scream out a sob as drool came out from your lips. He can feel his shirt and pants get wet as you squirted shamelessly on him. And he didn't complain one bit and watches you become a sobbing mess.

You were so smaller than he was you couldn't even push him away. The way you would weakly slap your hand on his wrist has him cooing. His baby couldn't even protect her precious flower from his hunger for the delectable nectar.

"N-no! Tsumu, stop!"

Instead, he lets down both of your legs in a wide spread and grabs a hold of the soaking sex toy. Still not finished with your release, he began to thrust the vibrator back inside your throbbing pussy, the vibrations still at the highest setting and drilling at your sweet spot. Your hands gave out and dropped to your side, too immersed by the overwhelming torture and sobbed pathetically for his name.

Atsumu only places feathered kisses on your shivering thighs, your cries only inflicting the sadistic side out of him. Finally your legs gave out as well and let's him have all the access he desires to feed your needy hole with what it sinfully wants. With his other hand, his finger slides on your clit, giving both of them the stimulation it desperately needs that left you no choice but to let out a throaty scream and eyes rolling at the back of your skull.

The devil he definitely is.

"That's it, let me take care of you, baby. Louder."

[thefanficmonster]

will you do an oompaville x reader.? like maybe one where you’re at a wedding with him and he asks you to dance.?

Omg an oompaville request!!! I'm so grateful dear! Thank you so much for your lovely request, please enjoy the one-shot 🥰

Perfect Sync

Pairing: Oompaville (Caleb) x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: None

Genre: FLUFF, RPF (Real Person Fic)

There are certain pros and cons to being so distanced from your extended family. And I mean DISTANCED, in all capitals. I actually live in a completely different state on the completely opposite side of the US and yet I still somehow got an invitation to my cousin's wedding. To be fair, it's not that surprising, seeing as how she's the only cousin I have comprehendible memories with from my childhood. She's a really sweet girl - no, woman - and it kinda sucks that we haven't had the chance to catch up in so long.

Among the many other cons is the fact that I don't know a single person at this wedding. Not. A. Single. Person. Sure, there have been several elderly and middle aged couples who've approached me, claiming they know me and given me a huge hug, asking me how my parents were doing. Speaking of my parents, they are a pair of sneaks who avoided coming to the wedding themselves saying they were stuck with a stomach virus while they're actually vacationing in Canada. How wonderful of them, don't you think?

They are chilling in Canada and I'm over here boiling and sweating over my third, possibly forth glass of champagne of the evening, not to mention the wedding hasn't even properly started yet. Count on me switching to whiskey when it does.

Sitting at the table I was pointed to upon arrival, I let my gaze skim over the immense garden decorated with beautiful flowers, fairy lights and handmade décor pieces. Each table and bar is under a white tent, just like the one I’m currently sitting under. It’s a beautiful sight and I can only imagine it’s only gonna get even prettier when the sun finally sets completely and all these fairy lights come on. That’s one of the few good things about my attendance at this event today. The ‘good’ things have been so little in number I can probably count them on the fingers of one hand: 1.I briefly saw and chatted with my cousin who was practically trembling out of excitement, anxiety and happiness. Good for her; 2. I’ve downed so many drinks that would probably cost me a fortune at a club or bar and I’m decently buzzed. Very cool; 3. I made friends with one of the bridesmaids because I had time to kill - turns out she wanted to be at this wedding as much as me: not at all; 4. I caught a whiff of the dinner which was still being cooked and damn am I excited about it; 5. The garden is absolutely breathtaking and it’s a sight worth sticking around for. See, as I said, few enough good things to be able to count them on the fingers of one hand.

And what about that cute guy from earlier?, my subconsciousness nudges me teasingly, causing me to almost evidently roll my eyes.

The hot guy being referred to right now is the one I damn near ran over when I was pulling up to this fancy estate. In my defense, I’m still getting used to the rental car I got when I landed in Texas two days ago, and plus he came out of literally nowhere. Luckily, he wasn’t mean or upset about it, took it quite lightly which was relieving and surprising. 

Not gonna lie though, he was really cute.

I see the people all over the garden hurriedly take a seat when it gets announced that the newly weds are about to have their first dance. I cross my legs, finishing the champagne in one go before I can focus my attention on the lovely couple that’s just stepped out of the mansion-like house and onto the soft grass of the lawn, slowly making their way towards the center where they’re supposed to have the dance - aka where everyone will be dancing afterwards too.

Everyone but me, I’ll be busy chilling by the bar, hopefully in the company of that bridesmaid who I can crack jokes with without feeling guilty.

The two dance in perfect sync, their movements almost mesmerizing to the human eye. I’m no professional dancer but I don’t have two left feet either, yet I’m still amazed by this perfection before me. I bet all the cash I took with me from New York - which is a lot, I expected to spend a lot - that they’ve practiced this more than once. Or at least I hope they have as to make me feel better about my own skills - or the lack thereof.

“I take it you’re a lot less dangerous when you’re not behind the wheel.“ A quiet comment emerges next to my ear, loud enough for me to hear but hushed as to not disturb the couple nor the mob of people watching them in awe.

My eyebrows shoot up. I’ve maybe heard that voice only once before but that teasing tone made me blush like mad earlier and that’s hard to forget. I have a hard time forgetting embarrassment.

Biting my lip, I slowly turn to face him, “I can’t guarantee, there are plenty of sharp objects around after all.“

There’s that same wide smile I saw earlier when my entire life flashed before my eyes. His probably did too but unlike me, he didn’t show it. “Some luck I have sitting next to you then.“ He chuckles, handing me a glass of whiskey. I take it hesitantly, giving him a suspiciously raised eyebrow. “You look like you could use one.“ He shrugs, taking a sip of his own. When my expression doesn’t change and I don’t make a move to ingest the beverage, he rolls his eyes, “Yeah I’m someone you’re seeing for the second time in your life, and yeah you might think I could want revenge for my nearly damaged health, but I don’t. And if you don’t want the whiskey...” he reaches to take it back but I quickly put it up to my lips and take a long sip, causing him to smile. “There you go!”

Oh boy does the taste of whiskey hit different after sipping on champagne for hours. I nod to him in gratitude. “Thanks, I strongly appreciate this.”

He nods back, his smile now a smaller one but still preserving the same amount of joy as when it was a full-blown grin, “I’m Caleb, by the way.”

“Y/N, nice to meet you.“ I reply, feeling the tension in my shoulders easing and the embarrassed blush fading. This guy just has such a chill aura, it’s nice being in his company. Hell, I’ll even go as far as to say if I simply had to almost hit someone with my car today, I’m glad it was him.

As more and more people emerge from their seats, heading hand in hand to the dancefloor to join the newlyweds, I finish my whiskey and am contemplating on going to get myself another but before I can decide, Caleb arises from his seat as well. He takes a stand in front of me, offering me his hand, “Well, there’s very little damage you can do you me out on the dancefloor, right?” He chuckles when he sees he’s made me blush again - third time today, damn it - but then he assumes a more serious facial expression, his smile never faltering though, “Care to accompany me for a dance, Y/N?”

I pretend to think the offer over, weighing my options and its pros and cons when in reality I dam near accepted the same second he asked. “Hmm, ok...“ I say finally, resting my hand in his, “That is, if you promise not to step on my feet. These are some expensive shoes I’m wearing.“

He lets out a genuine laugh as he leads us to the dancefloor, one that I’ll admit is hella contagious, “Says the person who almost ran my ass over earlier. Am I not expensive, huh?”

I give him a confused look, hiding fits of laughter, “I don’t know, Caleb. Are you?”

He shakes his head, “Nah, best offer you’d get for me on Craigslist is like, a dollar? Two if you’re lucky.”

And that’s all it takes to break the dam holding back my laughter, sending me in fits of giggles as we start dancing. My laughter ends just as quickly as it starts though when I realize how in-sync our dancing is. Perfectly synchronized. 

Huh, wonder why, that annoying voice pokes at my peace again. But I don’t let it get to me. Not now at least. I’m just gonna enjoy this moment, dancing with a practical stranger, gazing into his warm and welcoming eyes.

Suddenly I need another hand to count the good things about this wedding since I have to add three new points: 6. Almost hitting Caleb with my car; 7. Officially meeting Caleb; 8. Dancing with him.

Dancing with him in perfect sync

Oh, shut it, I don’t wanna start blushing again.

[bisexual-bitch-blogs]

"Unexpected" Pt 1

Hilichurls X GN Stoic! Reader

You are a pyro catalyst.

POV While working with Venti and Aether to get the 'Shield of Magnificent Honor'. You unknowingly proposed to the hilichurl with a flower and the hilichurl agrees. In exchange, the hilichurl give you its 'shield'. However, you and your companions teleported away making the young hilichurl pack up to find you. His big brother, the mitachurl, followed along in order to protect him from any enemies. They stumbled upon dragonspine where Albedo took interest in them and made a deal.

"I'll help you find them. In exchange, you will participate in my studies."

Hilichurls agreed but One day. A experiment gone wrong(right?) And they turned (slightly) human. At the same time, you, Aether and Paimon decided to visit the chief alchemist, Albedo due to Sucrose's request.

👀------------------------------------------👀

It's been only 20 minutes when the hilichurls has turned human. Albedo is now drawing them, teaching them english as the smaller golden eyed male danced around the fire. His brother just sat by the fire, staring a bullet through the fiery flames. A familiar voice pierced through the air.

"Hello? Are you perhaps Albedo the chief alchemist? Sucrose has sent us here saying you want to study the honorary traveler."

The young hilichurl turned around to see you in front of their benefactor with the same blonde and white haired companions. Seeing how alert his younger brother is, the mitachurl glanced at you, observing.

"Ah, greetings. Let me reintroduce myself. I am Albedo, chief alchemist and Captain of the Investigation Team of the Knights of Favonius-"

Man didnt get to finish his introductory when a white haired male with coal like skin and barely any clothes, jumped onto you. Caught off guard, both you and the half bare male fell down into the cold fluffy snow.

"Muhe ye!"

What the hell did this elf like dude just say? It sounded like the hilichurlian. Who are you kidding. It is. Why did he jump at you, rubbing his smooth cheek against yours?

"Oh Hilic. Is that the person you been looking for?"

The white haired male nods excitedly, smiling from ear to ear. You looked at the pretty toned male on top of you in question. After all you never seen him before. You asked awkwardly.

"Excuse me. Can you please get off me?."

Its seems like the dark skinned boy didnt hear you and continued to cling to your warm body. Albedo apologized.

"Apologies, (Y/N). He doesn't understand english well nor speak. The same goes for his older brother, Mita. They were once Hilichurl and Mitachurl but recently turned human due to my experiment."

Aether gaped while the fairy gasped at the information. Unlike you who was unfazed. Standing up with 'Hilic' stuck to your side, you stumble due to his weight but managed to stay standing in the end.

"I see. However, what do you mean by looking for me?"

The short teal eyed male explains.

"You have confessed to Hilic with a flower. He accepted and gave you his shield as a engagement gift. You accepted it then ran away before marriage. So he went to look for you with his brother. I'm assuming the rest is to complete the marriage and reproduce."

Pretty sure he meant build a family but either way. What the f*ck. You have never heard of a half hilichurl and half human baby. Much less a 'monster' and a human together.

THUD!

"P-Paimon!"

Shouted Aether.

Oh Paimon fainted. Anyways, this isnt about her. You asked.

"Is there a way to cancel or divorce?"

Albedo shook his head.

"Not that I know of nor am I interested."

Sighing. You let yourself be used as a human heater. Aether said, screeching.

"Wait..Are you saying both of them are joining our team now???!!"

Albedo hums.

"It cannot be helped..... Now honorary knight. I assume Sucrose has sent you here to me blah blah blah."

You ignored the rest of Albedo's words as you had a staring contest with 'Mita'. The older ravenette seemed interested in you? Nah. His younger brother is engaged to you somehow. It's not like harem is a thing in their culture...............Right?

------------------------------------------

I plan to make a pt 2. Idc how cursed this fic might be. Ill make it cute somehow. Srry if this writing seems a little rushed.

Next I'll be working on is a Zhongli request and a Scaracoochie X Male Reader. I plan to complete it tonight or tmr if possible. I'm tryna feed ya'll before I wont post for a long time due to personal problems.

[sariahsue]

Footsteps

Marinette’s about to get married to her soulmate, a man she’s never met before. Too bad she meets that cute groomsman in the hallway first. Rated G. 4,000 words.

***

Marinette bunched the white lace of her train into her fists and walked faster, eyes searching the empty marble hallway. Just keep walking. She could get through today. One foot in front of the other.

All she needed was some fresh air. She thought a building as enormous as this one would have at least one window that she could open. Instead, sunlight streamed through vaulted arches taller than the bakery she'd lived in her whole life, mocking her.

Marinette poked her head around a corner into a side hallway, saw nothing but closed doors, expensive paintings (that couldn't be an actual van Gogh, right?), and a plush white rug, and walked past.

All she needed was a few quick breaths, a little bit of air to cool off her flushed face, and a few minutes away from her hovering family and bridesmaids so she could pull herself together. And then she would get right back.

How big was this building? Each hallway she looked down offered a new way to get lost, with smaller hallways coming off of the side hallways and as many doors as there had been guests and staff just an hour ago. She gripped her train harder. Staff that had disappeared to the banquet hall to set up for the reception. Guests that were nowhere in sight because they were being seated in the chapel right now.

A door snapped shut somewhere behind her, and she whirled around, her heart in her mouth at having been caught, but no one was there. Her eyes traced crystal vases on marble tables only put there to break up the vast space the building contained. Nothing moved. And nothing looked familiar.

Can I even find my way back now? 

It was a problem she would have to deal with later. She didn't have the capacity for one more thing to go wrong right now, so she marched forward to continue her quest.

Her heels click-clicked as she walked across the polished floor, and she could have sworn she heard the door closing once again.

The shoes were going to give her away. With shaking fingers, she reached down and unstrapped them. They swung from her hands as she kept going.

Just a few days ago, Marinette had been so excited to finally meet her soulmate and get married. Why had the feeling deserted her today?

She knew the answer. All week it had been building, but now that the day was here, the swirling anxiety that had been simmering below the surface of her joy just couldn't be ignored any longer.

Most people gave themselves a few weeks or at least a few days after meeting their soulmate to get married, but her husband-to-be, Adrien, had insisted on being "traditional." No seeing each other until the wedding. She hadn't even talked to him on the phone yet. They would fall in love at first sight, as she walked down the aisle. If she'd met him before, maybe right now she wouldn't be so-

Marinette bumped into a glass-topped side table, sending the empty crystal vase on top tilting dangerously. Dropping her train, she managed to grab it before anything smashed. She stood there, frozen, listening, waiting to see if anyone would scold her, but no one was around. With a whispered "Sorry!" at the vase, she put it back in its place and kept searching through the maze of hallways.

It must have cost a fortune to rent this humongous mansion for the day. A new worry stuck in her throat. I'm not going to be able to fit in with my husband's family, am I?  Adrien would love her completely. That's just how it worked. But what if her in-laws hated her because her parents weren't rich too?

Her panic spiral was halted by the sight of a familiar blue rug pattern in one of the side hallways. Marinette made her way over, window quest forgotten, and she tripped over her dress the whole way there.

The long, white walls were filled with paintings of fruit and flowers, like the ones she used to make in art class (but with lighting skills so good it made her want to cry), and no… she hadn't been down this way before. Even as upset as she was, the artist in her would have remembered.

Marinette took a few seconds too long to glare at an apple, and by the time she heard the whispering, it was far too late for her to hide.

"Sneaking," a male voice whispered.

Marinette turned toward the voice. Had someone seen her? Did someone know she was roaming the building alone? She saw no one. And she saw nowhere she could quickly hide.

A few feet in front of her, the hallway turned a corner and continued out of sight. Some of the hallways had been like that, leading to more corridors and rooms that she hadn't bothered to explore. The footsteps came closer.

"Sneaking around the corner."

If she held very still, maybe he wouldn't notice? She walked backwards and pressed into the white wall, the fabric of her dress rustling loudly with every step, every breath she took.

His shoes squeaked as a hunched figure came into view.

"I'm not sneaking!" Marinette blurted out as soon as she saw him.

He jerked up straight.

She noticed three things instantly. He was blond. He was holding his hands around his eyes, like binoculars or a mask, and he was in the nicest tuxedo she had ever seen.

The man was also quite a bit taller than her, but he still jumped back in alarm when he saw her, and finally lowered his hands. Brilliant green eyes went from shocked to soft and warm and inviting.

"S-sorry," he finally said. "I was the one sneaking around. No worries."

"Oh," Marinette said, heart beating in her throat. "Right. I wasn't sneaking."

He smiled, and Marinette was glad she was already leaning against a wall. He had to be the single most beautiful human being she'd ever met her in life.

"Um, nice to meet you?" he said. When he held out a hand to shake, she quickly took it. His hand was soft and gentle and warm. No ring on either hand that she could see. Gorgeous and single!

Guilt swept through her, making her drop his hand. Here she was, getting married in literally a few minutes and ogling someone else. But he was still smiling at her. No, she had to stop thinking like a single woman. But he was so pretty.

"Of course. So, uh," He looked down at her dress. "You must be the bride, huh? Marinette? Nice to meet you."

Sweat prickled on the back of her neck. Judging by his outfit, she'd just been caught by a member of the groom's wedding party, a groomsman or a family member. Would he tell her future husband that she was out here getting cold feet? Not that it wasn't true, but she didn't want her soulmate to know about it.

"And you are?" she asked, hoping to divert attention away from herself. "One of the wedding party, right?"

"Yeah," he whispered and reached for her hand again. "I am. I was out here looking for you. I'm A-"

She shrank back. No matter how much she wanted to, she shouldn't be thinking about him this way. She was getting married to someone else.

The man dropped his hand quickly, eyes roaming her face, like he was looking for what he had done wrong. When he couldn't find anything, he ran his fingers through his hair and stammered out an apology. Marinette watched each lock fall back into place, the light catching each strand and making him glow.

"I'm-" he tried again, a blush rising in his cheeks. "Ni- W-winston."

"Winston?" Marinette couldn't help but laugh a little. That was the least French-sounding name she'd ever heard.

"Winston the groomsman," he said, not looking at her. "Yes, old family name. My father's name, and his father's name, and I think I have an old uncle. Because we're British way back there somewhere on my mother's side-"

"Nice to meet you, 'Winston.'" It was apparent he was nervous, and she didn't want him to feel uncomfortable, so she changed the subject. "What are you doing out here? You were looking for me?"

"Um." He looked around the hallway for inspiration, and Marinette immediately regretted her question as she watched his discomfort grow.

"I- He- The groom wanted to meet you before the wedding," Winston confessed.

"He did?"

"Yeah, he wanted to break tradition and see you, but Fa- his father is stifling stick in the mud."

"Yeah?" The knowledge was somehow both comforting and unsettling. She and her future husband had both wanted to meet first, but her father-in-law… she wasn't going to fit in.

"Yeah," he breathed. "He can't wait to meet you. But he couldn't get away, so I thought I'd come out here. And, wow, he's going to love you. You're amazing."

Marinette flushed at the compliment. "Isn't that how it's supposed to work? Love and first sight and everything?"

"Sure," Winston said, "but you know what I mean."

In the distance, an organ started playing softly, but Marinette barely heard it. This man would go through all that trouble for a friend of his? He was so kind, and she was going gooey under his intense gaze.

"What are you doing out here?" he asked quietly.

Just like that, the glow was gone. Would he believe the truth, that she was just hoping for some fresh air? He might be sympathetic. But he might not be. Who would feel sorry for a bride on her wedding day?

"I was… looking for the bathroom and got super lost." She adjusted her skirt with one hand to give herself something to do and then laughed nervously. "This place is such a maze."

Winston didn't answer right away. He studied the train of her dress, mouth a thin line of disappointment. Her shoes dangled from her loose fingers as she waited, and she adjusted her grip.

"You don't have to get married today, you know," he said. "You can call it off."

Marinette squirmed at how perceptive he was - or maybe she was just obvious - and pushed her hair out of her eyes. When it fell back into place, Winston reached out to tuck it behind her ear but stopped himself. His hand hung there awkwardly between them until he let it slowly fall.

"It's okay to be nervous," he said. "I know lots of people who didn't go through with their weddings. Loads."

Marinette smiled at the lie, grateful he was trying in spite of everything, though she was still a little worried he was going to tell Adrien about this conversation, or that word would somehow get to her future in-laws. She wasn't sure which would have been worse, giving her in-laws ammunition or disappointing Adrien.

"No, I really did get lost," she said. "I didn't mean to get all the way over here." And to make it sound convincing, she added, "Do you know the way back?"

"I can walk you." Adrien stood up straight, his smile returning.

"Oh, you don't have to," Marinette said quickly. There might still be a chance for her to find a window and that breath of fresh air she'd been hoping for.

"I insist." Winston held out an arm for her, and like the idiot she was, she eagerly took it. His free hand settled over hers, and they began to walk.

Her heels swung from her other hand, and without their added inches, the difference in their height was ludicrous. But Winston didn't comment on it, just matched her pace without making her feel rushed.

Together, they left the small hallway and stepped back into the still deserted main hallway. Sunlight poured through the windows, reflecting off the gleaming floors and sparkling crystal chandeliers high above. Winston's hand on hers was comforting, and he was so sweet to help her, but now there was no chance for her to get away.

Feebly, she said, "I think I recognize this part now. You can get back."

"Oh, they won't miss me," Winston said. "I'll make sure you get back safe. Is there anything else you need?"

Marinette sighed. As kind as he was handsome, and she hoped he never removed his hand from hers. Why did he have to be so nice and gentle?

After several more turns, she really did start to recognize things. How had she wandered so far? Her family must have been worried by now.

Marinette didn't bother to escape from him again, and Winston didn't let go of her, even when they stopped in front of the bride's room with its white and blank, gleaming, bronze plaque.

"I can't wait to see you coming down the aisle in a few minutes," Winston said. He lowered his arm, and her hand slipped away from his sleeve. She felt the loss of his touch immediately. "I mean, if you still want to," he added quickly.

"I'll be fine," she squeaked. "Thanks."

"Okay," he said, waving goodbye without moving away. "Great. See you."

Yup. He was definitely the most adorable, sweet, and beautiful man she'd ever met. "Why couldn't I be marrying this guy?"

Winston took a step back. "What?"

Huh? She'd said that out loud? She'd said that out loud! 

Fumbling for the handle behind her, Marinette said a hasty goodbye and launched herself through the door and slammed it shut without looking at his expression. What was she supposed to do now?

"Girl, where have you been?"

In seconds, Alya, Sabine, and Tom were gathered around her. Marinette leaned her back against the cool door, wondering if Winston was still staring at the spot where she'd been standing.

"Are you all right?" her father asked.

"Just needed some fresh air," Marinette said, staring at their shoes. "Then I got lost. Have you seen this place?"

"Marinette," Sabine said, lifting her daughter's chin with one soft hand. "You can tell us the truth."

The tension in Marinette's body all came out in a rush. Her shoulders slumped, and she slid down the door two inches.

Tom brought over a chair, and Marinette tried to sit down, only to find that her dress was caught in the door. What else could go wrong today? Without peeking into the hallway, she opened the door and removed her train - to her relief, it didn't look like she'd ripped it - and then collapsed into the chair.

"It's okay to be nervous," Sabine said.

Marinette nodded, though that wasn't the entire problem anymore. She was supposed to be marrying a friend of "Winston's" in a few minutes, maybe his best friend or even his brother. He would be standing there, witnessing her marriage, knowing what she'd just said. How was she supposed to show her face out there now?

Her parents and Alya doted on her, trying to put her fears at ease, but it was only making everything worse. She couldn't ignore her anxiety while everyone was talking about it. They flitted around the small room, fetching her water, guiding her to sit down in front of the triple mirror vanity, offering to brush her hair out. "That always calmed you down when you were little," Sabine said.

Marinette nodded.

"If it makes you feel better," Tom said, "I'm sure he's just as nervous as you are. I was nervous, too."

"Everyone expects you to be a little anxious." Sabine picked up the bristle brush while Marinette avoided looking at herself in the mirror. "You're marrying someone without ever having met him. That's terrifying. But you're going to be okay."

Marinette nodded again, dumbly. They waited for her to say something, respond with her usual cheerful attitude, and when she didn't, Alya jumped in.

"Sabine, didn't you get married and move to France at the same time?"

All four of them knew the story. Marinette had grown up hearing it, had loved hearing her parents' own love story.

"I found out my soulmate's name two days after my twenty second birthday," she said. Marinette could almost mouth the words along with her mother, they were so familiar. "I couldn't believe he was so far away. I started teaching myself French almost immediately, but the first time we got on the phone to speak to each other, all I could say was hello!"

A tug on Marinette's scalp told her that Sabine had found a small knot. She set the brush down and started to pick at it with her fingers.

"I moved away from home to a strange country, and was learning a new language, and was nervous about meeting my soulmate, but as soon as I saw him, it didn't matter," Sabine said. "You're going to be fine. As soon as you see him, you'll love him, and everything will be okay."

"I know all that," Marinette said. "But I'm scared now!" Not to mention distracted by "Winston," and the crushing guilt that reminded her she shouldn't be.

"Well," her father cut in. "What do you want to do about it, Marinette? Do you feel like we should wait a little bit?"

"Yeah," Alya added. "We can tell them there's something wrong with your dress or whatever if you need a few more minutes."

"I'm sure Adrien would understand," Sabine said. "He seemed very kind when we talked to him."

A few more minutes sounded wonderful, a chance to collect herself, do delay the inevitable. Or a chance for her anxiety to get worse. She took a deep breath. "No, let's just get this over with."

"Very convincing." Alya picked her clutch up off the vanity and started fishing around inside it. "You sound so pumped. Let me just text Adrien." Alya pulled out her phone.

"No," Marinette said, covering the phone with one hand. Her fake nails clicked on the screen.

"Waiting's not going to make it easier. I don't need any more time to worry. It's like you said, when I see him, everything will be fine. So let's just so see him. I want to see him."

"All right." Alya dropped her phone onto the table and grabbed the eye shadow. "Come here, then."

Marinette sat as still as she could while Sabine finished her hair and Alya did her makeup and Tom hovered around, asking what he should do to make her feel more comfortable. When they didn't give him any ideas, he started telling funny stories from Marinette's baby days.

Marinette only half listened, making sure to smile when someone else laughed. Maybe Winston had asked "What?" because he hadn't heard what she'd said. She had said it quietly, after all. That was logical.

Eventually, Tom had to leave the room to check on how things were progressing. Marinette missed his voice and his stories. The silence was too easy for her anxious mind to fill.

If she could just make it a few more minutes, if she could just make it to the altar, then she'd fall in love with her soulmate at first sight and everything would be great. No more worrying. No more wondering.

The final piece of her outfit, her veil, was laid out neatly on the flower-print sofa, waiting for her. When Alya declared her face perfect and Sabine could find no hair out of place, Marinette strapped her heels back on and stood, knees shaking, and retrieved her veil. She seemed like another woman in the mirror as she watched herself put it on.

Marinette did want to meet Adrien. She did. A few days ago, she'd felt excited. Just his name was enough to put a smile on her face. Her parents had met him, and she'd devoured every detail of him they could give her. Elation had bubbled through her chest as she had designed her wedding dress. It had taken weeks to finish simply because she was having so much fun designing it that she hadn't wanted to stop. If she could remember what it had felt like then, maybe she could recreate the feelings now.

The door creaked as it opened, and Tom walked back in. "It's time," he said, extending his arm for her.

Marinette plastered a smile onto her trembling lips and leaned on his arm to compensate for the weakness in her knees. No one else needed to know about her struggle, least of all Adrien.

The walk down the hallway to the chapel didn't take as long as Marinette thought that it should have. The organ music was too loud, but still not loud enough to drown out the breathing and whispers of a room full of hundreds of people, everyone who was ever important to her, and more that she would get to know well in her lifetime as Adrien's wife.

The processional song began to play, and Marinette walked in, staring at the pink petals on the carpet in front of her. Pews creaked and fabric rustled as everyone stood for her. And she kept her face down.

Don't make eye contact with the groomsmen. You're getting married to Adrien, so don't look for adorable "Winston."

Marinette forced her face up, searching out the people she knew. For her bridesmaids and Alya, her mother in the front row. Her school friends throughout the year, aunts and uncles who had flown from all over the world. A few held tissues, some waved at her. They were all smiling.

Everyone was smiling except for her.

She should be looking at her new husband - her soulmate - for the first time. He was probably looking at her. Had he already fallen for her? Was he wondering why she wasn't looking at him?

That curiosity was nothing compared to how much she wanted to look for the man she'd met in the hallway. There was something seriously wrong about that. It went beyond the guilt that she felt. It was a strangeness in the situation that she didn't have time to think about.

The line of petals thinned and disappeared halfway to the altar, and the organ music swelled.

The temptation was too great. Marinette raised her eyes, looking at the groomsmen first, looking for the friend that shouldn't have liked as much as she did. Because she was marrying someone else, she reminded herself as she quickly scanned their faces. And because she had only known him for about two minutes. What was wrong with her?

Her gaze skimmed them all twice, three times, but Winston wasn't there. Her footsteps stuttered to a halt before taking a big step to match her father's long stride. The hand holding her bouquet started to sweat.

Could he not bear to watch her marrying someone else? No, that was ridiculous. He didn't feel the same way. He wasn't feeling torn like she was.

He had definitely been part of the wedding party. He'd said so. So who was he?

The carpet ended, and Marinette heels clicked on marble as realization clicked into place. He was part of the wedding party, but not one of the groomsmen, so that must have meant…

For the first time that day, her heart pounded from something other than anxiety.

Marinette held her head high and looked for him. And she found him. "Winston." It had been a ridiculous name anyway. Adrien suited him much better.

Adrien smiled broadly at her. That wonderful smile she first saw out in the hallway was now a hundred times brighter, focused solely on her. He had snuck out to see her, had so gently guided her back when she was lost, had made sure she was comfortable, and offered to call off the wedding.

No wonder she had liked him so much. Love at first sight, just like everyone said.

He reached out a hand for her as she took the last few steps to the altar. Marinette slid her fingers into his, and they fit perfectly.

"Hi, Winston," Marinette whispered as she nestled herself into his side. "Could the groom not get away again? Are you getting married for him too?"

"I said the groom was going to love you," he said. "And I was right."

The last notes of the organ faded away, and a hush settled over their friends and family. This was it. They stepped together up to the altar. The first step of their lives together.

***

Author's note: Merry Christmas! You're getting something completely un-Christmasy. Huge thank you to @ours-polaires, @khanofallorcs, @vivalasaturn, and @noirshitsuji for reading over my outline of this and making sure everything made sense!

[lukealvezhimboextraordinaire]

Prompt — wearing their lover’s clothes! (also, “can I get my shirt back? ’'no.”)

Philioise 🥰

okay so i tried to fill the bill this time! things get a bit hot at the end but nothing worth an r rating!

let's see philoise + wearing their lovers clothes.

It had taken some convincing on Eloise’s part.

Phillip was a man with a very defined style and that style didn’t involve hoddies - an absolute pity according to Eloise. He liked his cardigans, his pleated pants, and his wingtips. He liked to look good and yet be comfortable and wasn’t here to be ashamed for taking care of his appearance. And really, it was fine. Eloise loved it. The only problem was that Penelope had been bombarding her with snaps of her wearing Colin’s oversized hoodies and although she would never admit it out loud, she was starting to feel the green-eyed monster burning in her chest. Goddammit, she wanted to take cute pics clapped in one of Phillip’s extra-large hoodies and post them on every social media account she owned.

But Phillip was not having it. Not even when she went out of her way to make obvious hints as to how she wanted to steal his clothes. Or rather, how she wanted to be given his clothes.

And really? What was the problem? Eloise had full access to his closet. She could just walk into it and grab whatever she wanted and he would not protest. But he was a smart man and smart men did not engage in couple wars with their girlfriend’s siblings. Especially not with Polin. Because out of every two words Colin said, one was Penelope. And Phillip loved Eloise but he preferred to keep his displays of affection a bit more subtle and he preferred his love confessions to be for Eloise's ears only. Nothing wrong with proclaiming your love and devotion for the woman you were sharing your life with every two sentences, really. But being around Colin was, in all honesty, a bit sickening.

But even if his love language were light, casual touches or his quiet but calming presence or listening to her ramble about her day, that didn’t mean he loved her any less. Where Colin’s love was loud, grandiose, overwhelming, Phillip’s love was quiet, nurturing, gentle. It was waking up to fresh flowers resting on a vase every morning, it was coming home after a long day at work to the table set and dinner ready, it was finding little notes scattered around the house, reminding her to take her keys with her, to drink some water, to drive safely. It was a soft kiss on her cheek every morning before leaving for work, a cup of her coffee exactly like she liked it placed on her hand. It was pressed flowers under her pillow. It was a back rub while they read together in the afternoons. It was books with his favorite parts and quotes underlined showing up on her bedside table randomly - full pages circled with this reminds me of you all over it. It was gentle praise and sincere encouragement. It was words of affirmation. It was a sense of finally belonging, being taken care of, and being put first, of mattering.

Phillip loved Eloise in all the ways she had ever wanted to be loved but didn’t dare to allow herself to yearn for and even in ways she never knew a person could love another person. He understood her silences as well as her words and always seemed to know how to make her feel better. There was something in his presence that never failed to make her feel safe.

There was nothing she could complain about.

But she wanted to take a bloody picture wrapped in one of his shirts and post it, dammit.

And then a brilliant idea crossed her mind.

She would see Penelope’s hoodie and raise it. Go big or go home.

And go big she did, indeed.

Phillip had one of those botanic conferences he loved so much that weekend, which meant she would (practically) have the house for herself. Or at least she would have the house for herself once the twins went to bed. The smart woman she was, Eloise had already crafted a detailed plan to tire them out so much all through the day, that the moment they came back home they would pass out, giving her the time to put her second master plan into action. It was genius if she herself said it.

-------

The twins had drifted into a peaceful sleep as soon as their heads touched the pillows. The day had been filled with excitement, laughs, and a couple sugar highs that Eloise had made sure to schedule to last until they were on their way home. The plan had almost taken a turn for the worse on the ride home when their eyelids started to flutter. Nothing a good old banger couldn’t avoid. They ended up singing to the top of their lungs to songs Eloise had never heard before walking into those amazing kids’ lives but now she often found herself humming absent-mindedly.

She placed a sweet kiss on the top of their heads and made sure to tuck them in before closing the door quietly and making her way to the bedroom she had come to share with their father.

As much as she would have loved to take her time

Everything was ready; the lights settled to the perfect intensity, the phone resting on the tripod, and the throw pillows placed in a way that only added to the scene. All that she had to do was get in front of the lens. Surprisingly, the hardest part had been to pick the perfect garment to wear. Phillip had such a collection of nice shirts that it had taken Eloise a good twenty minutes to narrow it down to just two and then five more to come up with a winner. The soft baby blue cotton fabric looked very nice against her skin and it even made her eyes stand out so it became an easy pick. Even though the light yellow one was very nice too. Eloise took a mental note to keep it for a late date. Maybe she would have to ask Daphne to keep the twins for a night one of these days.

Eloise tried a couple poses on the mirror before settling for a suggestive yet not very explicit one. Her legs slightly parted, the hem of the shirt covering just about enough skin to allow the word tasteful to be used but to still spark the curiosity about what was (or wasn’t) behind, the first few buttons of the improvised attire open, allowing the valley of her breasts to peak over the lace brasserie, offering a glimpse of what was to come. The wicked smile adorning her features and messy hair the perfect last touches to her ravishing look. The camera snapped once, twice, thrice. Eloise studied the pictures, nodded with satisfaction, and with one last look at them hit sent.

My sunflower: A little something so you don’t forget to think about me tonight;)

Jesus, El, I almost crashed against the wall.

Just so you know, I always think about you.

My sunflower: I hope so.

Is that my shirt?

My sunflower: Maybe?

You little thief.

My sunflower: Do you want it back?

I think you ought to show me if you had stolen more of my clothes.

Like my boxers, for starters….

Eloise didn’t get much sleep that night.

The next morning she made sure to send Penelope a nerdy snap, Phillip’s shirt looking huge on her smaller frame, making her look like she was wearing an oversized dress. Judging by the dry response she got from her best friend, Colin was about to make a trip to the mall to get a couple dressing shirts. The bar had been raised. Hoodies were no longer good enough. It was pressed shirts or nothing now. Good.

Eloise surprised herself by how reluctant she was to take off his shirt. It had been only a day and she already missed him. His laugh, his hugs, his arms lazily thrown over her shoulders as they laid on the couch, the way he wrinkled up his nose with the first sip of tea… she missed having him around and the peace knowing he was close brought her. And it was funny because until that moment the realization of how used she had gotten to having Phillip by her side had not hit her. Their broken souls were two sides of the same coin, joined and twisted and embroiled until they became one.

So she threw a pair of jeans on, tucked the shirt in the pants, and went on and about with her day. The twins didn’t even bat an eye when she descended down the stairs muffled in their dad’s favorite gear. It was almost as if they had been expecting it for a while. In retrospect, they probably had not given it any thought because they were kids, smart kids, but kids and children didn’t tend to have the same worries as adults. For them, sharing clothes didn’t have a special meaning.

And Eloise realized that she should have gone digging into Phillip’s side of the closet a long time ago. Thinking about it, she couldn’t come up with the exact reason why it had gotten her so long to finally do something that had been on her mind for a while.

But Eloise didn’t have much time to dwell on the reasons behind her actions - or lack of them. Because the door sprung open, startling everyone inside, to reveal a smiling Phillip, bag hanging lazing from his shoulder.

“Daddy!” The kids rushed to his encounter, screaming happily, and attached themselves to his legs. He scooped them up, each in one arm, and when he looked up his eyes locked with Eloise’s. A knowing smile immediately overtook his features. Eloise knew that smile knew what it meant. It was the promise of something to come and it never failed to send a wave of heat down her stomach.

“Hi,” he had to lean in slightly to give her a soft kiss on the lips. The kids made disgusted noises and Phillip took it as his cue to let them run free. He watched them disappear up the stairs and only then did he turn his attention back to the brunette, his eyes burning into hers. “Is that my shirt?”

Eloise licked her lips. “Maybe.”

He grinned, closing the distance between them in two long steps, his lips brushing against her neck, tentatively running down her collarbone until they reached the valley of her breasts. The air caught in her lungs. Her eyes closed. And then he stopped. When she opened them again, he was smirking down at her. “Can I get it back?”

Somehow she managed to find the strength to talk. “N-no.”

Phillip grinned evilly. “Not even if I do this?” His fingers teased the hem of the shirt, sending a wave of electricity down her spine whenever they grazed her skin. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he started unbuttoning the shirt, leaving a kiss on every inch of exposed skin.

“If you want your shirt. You are going to have to rip it off of me.” Eloise breathed out. And Phillip's eyes burned with desire and something that looked a lot like a promise.

Let’s just say, the shirt ended on the floor.

------------------------

When she came into their bedroom later that night, there was a bag resting on her side of the bed. She looked around for him but he was nowhere to be found. Never one able to resist the temptation of satisfying her curiosity, she looked inside. Tears filled her eyes because there, resting in the bottom of the bag was a brown hoodie. Strong arms wrapped around her from behind, the warm breath against her neck making her hair stand up. "I would give you the world, my sunflower. All you have to do is ask."

It had taken some convincing on Eloise's part. But she never needed to try so hard.

[sylvie-writes]

His Little Love

pairing: steve rogers x reader x sarah

word count: 1595

request: “I was hoping for Valentines day (I know it’s not even Christmas yet but I can’t get this idea out of my head, I had a dream about it the other night and I want you to write it) of Steve taking Sarah on a daddy daughter lunch date for Valentine’s Day, like he shows up at the house with flowers for her and rings the doorbell and takes her out for lunch and they are both dressed up(he’s trying to show her how a gentleman is supposed to treat a lady and to never settle for anything less) and they go have lunch then he drops her off with her grandparents and then picks up his wife and takes her away for the weekend for a romantic Valentine’s mini vacation and they talk about adding to the family while sitting next to the fireplace?” -anon 

author’s note: such a cute idea! thanks for sharing nonnie!

warnings: none

pardon any mistakes!!!

The simple ringing of the apartment doorbell sounded at the right time as you had just set down the hairbrush, now allowing for Sarah to be able to jump out of your lap and dash to the door. 

Today was Valentine’s Day and about this time last week, Steve had a brilliant idea to take Sarah out for a lunch date. Granted, it was midnight when said idea popped into his head, and he was so excited he forgot that you valued your sleep more than anything he had to say. Luckily, you had a soft spot for anything Steve did for Sarah and you allowed for him to get away with waking you up that time. Then a few days later, your husband hand wrote one of his infamous letters and hand delivered it to Sarah as she watched some cartoons on the couch that morning. While this all happened, you were in the kitchen, preparing breakfast for your daughter and heard her ever-adorable, squeal of excitement. 

Fast forward a few more days, and Valentine’s Day has arrived. Steve had gone out that morning, going to arrange things and what not, allowing you some time to dress Sarah. She had picked out one of her favorite dresses that was sparkly, as with everything else that resided in her closet. From there, you blow dried her hair and styled it which was a big deal as the little munchkin would never allow you to do so for any other event. That’s how she showed up to Nat and Bucky’s wedding with two lopsided pigtails. Out of tradition, you spritzed some of your perfume and Sarah giddily walked through the cloud. 

11:30 on the dot, Steve punctually arrived at your apartment door, and that’s when your toddler lurched from her seat in your lap and to the door to meet her date. On the way, she had forgotten a sock as you saw one foot bare. With a small giggle, you slightly jogged to meet the girl at the door where she was slipping on her shoes, and failing a bit. You slipped on her other sock and then helped fasten the buckles on her little mary-jane shoes. Sighing in relief, you stood up to answer the door where your husband waited with a bouquet in his hands, wearing a gray suit and tie that made him look even more dashing than usual. 

“You ready, my little valentine?” Steve bent down to slip on Sarah’s jacket and you could see a smile permanently etched onto her face. She then placed her hand in his and the two left but not without each kissing you goodbye. You stood in the doorway and wished the pair a good time. “I expect her to be home before ten, Rogers!” 

Steve looked back at you with a wink, “Of course, ma’am.” 

From the window, you could see the tall blonde opening the door for the smaller lookalike and his mouth moving a mile a minute, presumably saying something along the lines of, “Rule of thumb, if a guy doesn’t open the door for you, then he doesn’t deserve your time.” You knew that today he was going to be showing her how a real gentleman should act. Once they both got situated in the car, you chuckled to yourself and attended your own date with a pile of laundry.  

Around one o’clock, your family returned, happy, talkative, and smiley as usual. Sarah couldn’t stop talking and the minute she walked in the house, she ran to sit on the couch beside you. She seemed absolutely thrilled by the events of her lunch date with Steve, that she told you every single detail and it felt as if you were there with her, rather than currently sitting on the couch folding towels. 

At one point, about five minutes into your daughter’s story, you looked up for Steve who had seemingly disappeared. Scanning the room, you could spot his figure in your bedroom, on the phone with someone and whoever it was, they were making him smile just like the toddler before you. It piqued your curiosity to say the least, but instead of interrupting Sarah or Steve, you just stayed put and listened to the rest of the little darling’s story. A few minutes later, the recollection of the lunch date came to an end and Sarah had wandered off to get a fruit snack pouch, or was it a bottle of water? You had zoned out a bit, too preoccupied with a certain man’s whereabouts and just nodded your head as she asked if you wanted one. Suddenly, Steve put down his cell phone, and turned to catch your stare. A bit embarrassed, you looked back down at the daunting laundry basket that now held clothes. In a split second, the man had already crossed the room and taken the seat beside you on the couch. He kissed your temple before reaching down to help fold. For a few minutes, you both folded clothes in comfortable silence when Steve momentarily paused to remove his tie. You could see him struggling so you stopped your own folding to face him and untie the darn thing. He looked down on you with a smile and you returned the gesture along with a kiss to the corner of his lips. Slowly, you wrapped your arms around his neck and blissfully gazed at him. 

Steve looked at you with a smirk and you were confused until he spoke up. “You’re probably wondering who I was on the phone with, huh?”

With a small laugh, you nodded your head in defeat. 

“Well, it was your parents…” At this you cocked your head and raised an eyebrow, “I was asking them if they could watch Sarah this weekend.” He shrugged and you removed your arms, leaning back.

“Steven Grant Rogers, what are you up to?” He shook his head, signaling that it wasn’t anything that you should’ve been worried about. It was quite the opposite, in fact. “Nothing bad, love. I was gonna whisk you away this weekend if it’s okay.” 

The minute you agreed, Sarah coincidentally returned to the room with her backpack in hand. “I heard Mommy say yes!” Apparently she was in on it too and you let out a breathy laugh at their sneaky planning. Standing from the couch and leaving Steve to finish the laundry, you went to go and actually pack Sarah’s backpack. Although you appreciated her effort, stuffed animals wouldn't be enough for the weekend. 

That night, you and Steve arrived at a log cabin in the northern part of New York. On the drive over, it had started to snow, making the atmosphere even more enjoyable, especially with the outlook onto the icy lake. It was nice and quiet and you questioned how he was able to score such a place for Valentine's Day weekend. Needless to say, it had been a while since you and Steve had alone time such as this. Your husband had now changed into a flannel, and he looked a bit like a lumberjack which made you laugh as the burly man toted the bags inside. 

For dinner, Steve had ordered some Chinese takeout and drove into the nearby small town while you got ready for the night as it was nearing nine o’clock. In your duffle bag that was packed last minute, you had one of your lover’s long sleeves in there, the one that was your favorite to curl up in. Changing into that, you then waited for a few minutes on the couch when Steve returned, a bag of cardboard cartons in one hand while the other held your favorite bouquet of flowers. (Upon closer inspection, you noticed there were as many flowers as the years you two had been together.) The two of you then picked a movie and sat in each other’s embraces, cycling through eating, laughing about the movie, or chatting about anything and everything, including Sarah, of course. 

Empty takeout containers scattered across the coffee table, the movie’s end was nearing, the crackle of the fire had died down, and your head was now sleepily resting on Steve’s arm that had been wrapped around your shoulders. 

“Hey (y/n), you awake, darling?” You could feel Steve turn his head to take a peek at you. Sitting up, you shifted to face him, arm resting on the back of the couch and hand propping you up. “What’s up?”

“I have something important to ask you.” Steve looked a bit nervous and you reached out to soothingly grab his shoulder while giving him your full attention. 

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while, you know Sarah’s getting older, and we’ve talked about more kids. Now honey, if you don’t think now is the right time, that’s okay, but I figured I should bring it up and see what you were thinking.” By the end of his speech, Steve had taken your hands out of your own lap and now was placing soft kisses to your knuckles. All of this took you by surprise, but the good kind. For a while you’ve been thinking the same thing, but you never really thought to bring it up. Somehow you and Steve always seemed to be on the same page even if you didn’t know it. 

“I think that would be amazing, bubs.” 

There was the most endearing smile on his lips and he immediately pulled you in for a hug, whispering sweet nothings into your ear. 

taglist: @memissbee @tricereads @buckybarnesthehotshot @bval-1 @tonystankschild @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @turtoix @kelbabyblue @jakiki94 @aubreeskailynn @calirindo @lady-elena-adeline​ @siriuslyslyslytherin @sushiinmidnight​ @patzammit​ @iwik3it

[nevermore-ocs]

Azrael x Plus-Sized!Reader: A Real Alpha

Author’s note: IT IS FINALLY DONE 9.3K WORDS OF THE FIRST PART OF AN X READER WITH THE ONE AND ONLY HUNTER ALIEN BOI AZRAEL!! Summary: After a painful break-up in between you and your previous partner, Azrael sees to it that you’re comforted and happy again to the fullest extent. Warnings: NSFW closer to the end THAT’S ALL-

“You do not have to shed any more tears for that mudak (asshole), (Name).”

Your ears nearly blocked that out, the sniffles staggering out of you with your body twitching in time your hitching breaths, Azrael’s words were almost muffled to you. “I-I’m sorry, Azrael,” you whimpered out, for what felt like the 50th times and like the numerous utterances before, he shook his head to brush off the apology, and his large, strong arm tightened around your waist and with gentle pushes urging you to snuggle your head onto his shoulder, he quietly spoke up again. “You have nothing to apologize for, little one, this is that cruel dog’s fault, not yours.” His hand, taking up most of the free space on your side, stroked slowly up and down, his digits lingering on your waist in soothing pets, it drew a shaky sigh from the depths of your chest. You at least attempted to even your breathing, but every rampant thought that rushed through your head and dug its way into your brain like a deadly spike and imprinted itself there. Any progress that you made of controlling yourself went down the drain, you felt the sobs start to rip through your body once more and on impulse, your arms shot out to Azrael and you clung onto him tightly, with your face buried into his broad chest. It felt like you were crying your eyes out, that if you kept going, you weren’t totally sure if you’d even have anymore tears to shed.

Azrael, overcoming the surprise of the swift, tight hug you threw around him, his open arms carefully closed around your frame in a much softer but warm hug, like as if he hugged you as tight as you were, he’d break you like a wilting flower with the gentlest breeze of wind bristling crumbling the weak, dead petals, but, his hands still traveled up and down the small of your back in slow, tender strokes, his digits taking a few moments to massage a certain spot in the middle of your tense, locked shoulder blades, surprisingly, it did make your rigid shoulders gingerly relaxed from their raised position, even if it was a gradual, crawling pace from the desired, fully rested goal, it was improvement, and even the tiniest amount was enough to make a gentle smile paint itself onto the alien’s face. “There you go, little one, there you go, you are safe, I swear it…” his low, accented voice rumbled through his chest, you felt it, what with your head nestled so much against him, his voice, as if it were a warm, quilted blanket, surrounded you in a comforting aura, to think that someone so dangerous, so otherworldly, would take the time out of his day to make sure that you didn’t cry over someone who didn’t deserve it, it surprised you, sure, but it made you happy more than you realized. Daxton was a dangerous place, humans being a smaller percentage of what roamed in the city’s streets, the fact that not only were you somehow good friends with the worst of the worst in this place, but you were currently being cradled in one of their arms definitely made you take a moment to compose yourself. You sniffled and tried to force your tears to halt for now to finally take a slow glance up at Azrael, the hunter alien who was from a distance icy planet who knows how far away, the same man who’s killed creature after creature with the very same tools that were petting your back and threading their fingers through your (hair color) tresses and taking those few extra steps to pet at your scalp before brushing back any lingering strands away from your face, sometimes you questioned to yourself how an alien could be so much kinder and sweeter than the humans you’re used to but after what happened, it didn’t take too much convincing anymore. If anything, humans could take a few lessons from Azrael in that department. You, at first, were going to sit back in the dip of Azrael’s lap and just let yourself relax, perhaps even drift off to sleep  as crying took more energy out of you than you originally thought, but, that’s when your eyes really drifted over the alien’s features to take in even the smallest of details. He was the enticing combination of cute, almost boyishly so, and worn-out ruggedness with every hunt that he’s been through taking one toll after another on not only his body, but his mind too. You could only begin to imagine the story behind the three long scars that bore deep across the entire horizontal length of his face, across his sets of eyes, his nose, even his mouth. “Azrael?” You peeped up, your voice, sounding more level than it did, was quite gentle and quiet to the ear, but his talented, pointed ones instantly heeded and he turned his head to face you and his half-lidded, sweet gaze met yours again. “Yes, little one?” He responded with the same kind of light whisper as you. Your heart fluttered, his deep voice honey on your ears, you leaned further against him, your head tilting some to the side and it rested on one of his shoulders comfortably and you gazed up at him in a trance, you couldn’t describe it at first, your emotions left your mind a disoriented, fuzzy mess but this felt right, this warm closeness with him, how his large, strong arms fit around your full, curvaceous body with little effort, and just how he was taking so much time in the world to comfort you, to ensure that your tears would stop that you would rest well and content tonight. He didn’t have to do this for you, at all, it wasn’t his job to, but with how he carried himself right into your room and made himself at home to fully care for you and only you, it was almost as if he needed to or else it wouldn’t sit right with him in his head, in his heart. “You don’t think I’m too big, do you? I-I know this is kinda out of nowhere-well, n-not out of *nowhere* but s-still, I, heh, I know it’s not the most attractive thing in the world-” His hand lifted and he cupped his palm over your mouth to silence your words, and your surprised eyes flickered up to his face, and his taken aback expression read of quiet hurt, as if the question itself, when you uttered it, it insulted him. He, at first, silently shook his head and then he spoke up, “Not at all, little one! Why would I be bothered by it? Is beautiful, yes? Is more to love! A fool would be bothered by something as trivial as that, who would complain getting to hug every inch of you? If you were my woman, you would be getting your body worshipped by me every single day, whenever you asked for me to do so. The Gods graced this world, this universe, with the perfect form of you, there is nothing wrong with you,” you didn’t know what to say, your mouth was partially hung open, words hanging off of the cliff of your tongue but they didn’t take that plunge, so, they stayed stuck in your mouth and you couldn’t help but the stare that came from you, riddled with disbelief and it seemed to the resonate with him as he picked it up, and he continued. “If you really think there is something wrong with your body, (name), let me reassure you, from the bottom of my heart and spirit that there is not one problem, yes? You are not ‘too big’, is not possible! Personal preference, I would want a bigger woman, be too afraid to squeeze a smaller one; I would break her!” His words melted into laughter, hoping that his little joke would conjure up some kind of laugh from you too, and his internal wishes were granted as the quietest of giggles escaped from your lips and left a smile on your face in its wake. “A real alpha,” he started again whilst he stood up from the bed finally with you hoisted up in his arms so easily, he held you in a bridal style and instinctively, your arms shot up from their resting positions on your stomach, and they coiled around his strong neck. Turning to face the bed, he bent over to slowly lower you to the cradling embrace of your mattress, and he slipped your looped arms over his head and he gingerly laid them across your chest and stomach, giving one of your arms a slow, deliberate caress til he reached back with the same hand and he even fluffed up a couple, or a few, of pillows amongst the bevy of them splayed across the head of your bed. “Wouldn’t let something so unimportant get in the way of making the person of their dreams their mate. To us, to me, it does not matter what you look like, you are kind, you are sweet, you are smart, you are a light that can be seen from even the darkest of caves, never forget that. How your body is shaped, how much you fill out your clothes, a dress, a palm even, is bonus!” He quietly chimed with a light chuckle fluttering out of him. Again, you found yourself at a loss for words, not even knowing what to begin with other than just laying there in a stunned silence with your (eye color) orbs gawking at him with your mouth hung ajar. Sometimes you wondered how he even existed, only to be quickly reminded he was an alien for a myriad of reasons, tons of which you were thankful for since in the back of your gnawed at the back of your mind, a thought that a human who even attempted to mirror the same kind as uplifting qualities as him wouldn’t even exist. He thought of you in such high regards that didn’t even fathom with you at first, but it touched you to say the least. He grasped the edge of your blanket and pulled it up to the bottom of your chin and he straightened it out across your body, making sure that it laid comfortably flat against your body, his hand, placed on top of your hip, cascaded down in a slow, smooth motion, rubbing the warm fabric down against your body. “Azrael…” You breathed out, he was crouched down next to the side of your bed with his chin resting on his crossed arms laid on the edge of the mattress as all four of his eyes glanced at you expectantly, waiting for you to continue, if you could this time.

“Thank you.” It wasn’t much, but it was definitely the loudest phrase echoing throughout your mind at first, if anything was gonna come tumbling out of your mouth in shy, touched mumbles, it was those two words. His eyes softened and his smile spread wider, enough for the tips of his sharpened teeth to peek out from underneath his lips, and somehow, it made him even cuter in your eyes. “You are most welcome, little one, and if you ever, and I mean ever, need to be reminded that you are a gift from the Gods themselves, do not hesitate to come to me again, okay? To see your eyes light up with sincerity and feel proud of yourself once more, it is the greatest treasure in the universe, and nothing would make me happier than to indulge in it more.” His hand unraveled from his crossed arms and he moved it up to one of your hands holding the edge of your blanket and he wrapped his fingers around yours and gave you a gentle squeeze, his thumb grazing over your knuckles and where finger met palm, his trained eyes making sure to watch his claws and to pull them away when they even got a centimeter too close to your skin, and after giving your hand a few more squeezes, he, to you, regrettably, retracted his hand back to his side and stood back up to his towering 11’0” height. You had to catch yourself, but your hand had outstretched from underneath the blanket’s edge, reaching out to grasp and hold his all over again, however, somehow, he didn’t notice, thanks to his head turned away to take a quick glance around your room and when he did finally lock gazes with you again, you snatched your hand away in time and hid it back under the darkened cloth. “It is late, and I can imagine crying made you tired. You should get sleep, rest up and get your strength back, yes?” He gave you one more genuinely sweet smile with a quiet hum flowing from him, before turning around to face the door and he even started to step towards it.

And it was there, staring at his fleeting back that the rest of the world seemed to just fade away until it was just you, gazing at the man who single-handedly changed the entire night for you, who made your negative thoughts seem to melt away into nothingness, to be long gone and forgotten about and to never grace your mind again to cause you harm, to actually put your faith again into something, what started to feel frivolous and unimportant, like love. The words fled from your lips quicker than you could catch them. “Azrael, wait.” Your eyes widened when you heard yourself, and then you were sure that your eyes were going to pop out of their sockets when he turned around to you all over again.

“Yes, little one? Something wrong?” What did you wanna say? Your mind was cluttered, the remnants of what happened prior still littering around in your thoughts in hurtful piles but then also growing overwhelmed with the comforting, blinding feelings towards Azrael’s overshadowing the damage that was done, it was confusing, you couldn’t explain it, but, you knew you didn’t want him to leave so soon already, did you?

“Stay with me.” 

Well, that certainly came out a lot stronger than you originally wanted or planned. Azrael’s eyes widened, and he jumped very slightly with the sheer shock running through his body, he almost did a double take by glancing at anything else in the room, away from you, only to find himself staring back at your own stunned face. You flickered your gaze around, your lips forming the possible fragments of words coming to your mind but nothing came out, it just looked like you were physically trying to search for the words in front of you instead of mulling them over in your cluttered mind. However, from staring over your form, the alien’s talented, analytical eyes studied you for only just a few moments, quietly deducing just what was bothering you all over again, and the cause of your outburst, both sets of his eyes softened whilst a low, quiet sigh escaped his nose, returning to your bedside, he reached up and placed one of his large, clawed hands onto your shoulder and he held it, squeezing in a soft, soothing way. “You are feeling обеспокоенный (troubled), conflicted yes? Trying to heal quicker from the pain done unto you, with me. Do not say things that you truly do not mean, you can feel better without me.” His tone had a gentle firmness to it, not coming off too strong that he was yelling at you or anything vile like that, but as if he was trying to teach a lesson to you, words of wisdom that hopefully would help brush away any of the confusions entangling your thought processes in its wicked web. You did listen, of course, even your eyes drifted downward to the top of the mattress. Maybe he was right. He certainly sounded sure of himself. Was this some kind of attempt to rush and hurry your soul through any pain? By getting over the awful excuse of an ex with someone who was most assuredly better than them in every single way, shape, and form? But, it wasn’t like you to do this with just anyone, I mean, you’ve known all of the villains for a couple of years now, and found yourself close to all of them and you considered Azrael one of the closest to you, and he you, but, did you *really* wanna take that dive? To do something more with him? It’s not like you haven’t thought about it before against your better judgement, it was confusing, and made you second-guess some other things in your head that once were set in stone, was now crumbling into unsure doubts. Then, there were those other feelings, like having him this close where his warm aura radiated from him and covered around you like a blanket, the black, deep-set, caring worriedness in his blacked out eyes and how they were focused on you and only you, Hell, even the very obvious size difference in between the two of you was heavily noted, not only by the fact that he easily towered over you when he stood up beforehand, but how when you reached your hand towards his, your palm and fingers managed to coil around, at most, two of his clawed digits and you held them tightly, almost emitting the fear that he would leave sooner than you wished. Dragging your eyes back up to his scarred face, your hand at your side traveled up and you cupped his cheek to the best of your abilities, being so much smaller compared to him. You thumb, in a gentle, ghost of a tender caress, rubbed over the risen skin from the part of the scar situated right underneath his upper right eye, and with you two locked in such an intense gaze, now it was his turn to slowly don a light blue blush that spread across his face in a gradual glow, even the tips of his pointed ears started to brandish the same kind of bluish hue. You gave him a defiant shake of your head, “I want this, I-I want to do this with you, I do, I know I do, t-this isn’t some kind of…” you rolled your wrist, searching for the word, “Coping thing or anything, I swear…! You mean a lot to me, Azrael, and I wanna do...something, anything with you, only you, please…” Getting all of this off of your chest, both of your hands shot up to his cheeks and you cupped them, corralling all of his wandering, nervous eyes from going all over the place to focus solely on you and as if mirroring you, he opened his mouth and his lips attempted to form the words coming at his mind all at once to the point where no words found their way out and instead was replaced with a quiet squeak similar to that of a puma’s, it was too cute for you not to let out quiet giggle while a smile snuck its way onto your lips. Craning your head forward, you pressed your forehead against his in a nudge, something small and sweet that he’s done with you before as an affectionate gesture and almost instantly, his head leaned forward into yours and he returned it, nuzzling the side of his head against yours as a low, rumbling chuff-like noise emitted from the depths of his chest, again, seemingly identical to the chuff noises that a tiger can make. “Is it okay?” You questioned again, one of your hands glided down the side of his face and rested on the nape of his strong neck, letting your fingers trace over the start of a scar underneath the skin-tight under-armor he leisurely wore, “If you don’t want it too, you know you can tell me that right? I-If this is like, I-I’m pressuring you or anything, tell me to stop, and I’ll stop, and I’ll go to bed like you told me to,” you hurriedly reminded him, honestly, how he was feeling about this whole situation burned at your thoughts on top of your own, Azrael wasn’t human in the slightest, if that wasn’t obvious enough, and with how he had no partner with him when he came here in the first place, the thought of him having never done anything sexual before flashed through your head for a moment or two. “N-No, no! I...my apologies, (name), you, grace me with your kindness, being so patient with me.” He was always so sweet, it made your pounding heart flutter and you smiled wider at him as you reached up and threaded your fingers through his ridiculously soft strands of pastel blue hair, petting through the light tresses. “I am...more concerned with how you feel. Being in a hurt state can make you want things to stop the pain and I am more than happy to lay here with you until you do rest, but, something like this...it cannot be big, if there is something smaller that you humans indulge into with your own mating rituals, I can be open to that, but it cannot be anything else.” You blinked, “Why not-” suddenly, you remembered, and you swallowed up the question just before it left you too soon. “That’s right, your kind, you...mate for life.” You dragged out a long groan, your hand shooting up to your face to clap your palm over your forehead, almost as an attack onto yourself for forgetting something so crucial like that but him being much more nervous than you now started to make a lot more sense. “I am *so* sorry I forgot about that part of your culture, Azrael, I-I, ugh god I wasn’t thinking at all.” Rubbing down, you squeezed the bridge of your nose with a hint of annoyance towards yourself before dropping both of your arms onto your lap in defeat with your head turned away and your eyes narrowed along with your brow furrowed, you quietly scolded at yourself under your breath. “I do not want to take advantage of you.” The words surprised you. Lifting your head back up and facing him all over again, your wide eyes gawked at him, worried and curious, especially the first since you had no idea that he was thinking that if you two really did something like this, that he was taking advantage of you. “Azzy, what? Why would you think that?” You questioned, his eyes glancing away momentarily before he started to explain in a low tone. “On my home planet, it is not rare for Alphas, most certainly male, to take advantage of betas and omegas, fearful of them, if they have to give up their bodies to keep them alive, a lot of them fell obedient to others.” His eyes finally locked back onto your face, “And with your heart being hurt, feeling inadequate when you shouldn’t at all…” his hand crept up, cupping your cheek this time and his hand easily covered up almost the entire side of your head and face, his thumb grazing over the skin right underneath your eye. “I did not want it to seem the same. Это ужасная вещь, которую делают жестокие собаки (it is an awful thing done by cruel dogs), may the Gods forever damn the ones who do it, is just one reason why.” You leaned forward quickly and slung your arms around the alien’s large, broad frame, barely making it around the middle of his chest, letting your head burrow into his front as if you were a tick, “Well you,” you started, lifting your head enough to let your chin rest on the top of his chest to gaze upward at his curious expression, teetering on hurt thanks to the not-so-fun fact that he told you about his people, it was almost positive he was worried it would alter your opinion about him at all since he always referred to himself as a true, real Alpha. “Are nothing like those assholes, you know that? I mean you really pride yourself in that-” You gently teased in hopes to get him smiling again and it worked, a little, when the crack of a smile started to break out across his face, “You’re so much more sweeter, nicer, kinder, sometimes, honestly, it surprises me how you’re even called a villain here! I-I mean other than the whole, ‘taking skulls thing’ but still-!” The minimal distraught that had casted over him prior faded away at your emphasis and he couldn’t help but let out rather hearty laugh, one of his strong, large arms hooking around your waist to finally return your tight hug with his head craning down, he nestled his face into your (hair color) hair and you felt the soft rumble of low chuffs blowing through the soft tresses against your scalp. “You like the skull I gave you, yes? That was not too evil!” He joked in return, and it pulled more shared laughter out of the both of you since you bubbling up into a fit of a giggles caused his own laugh to come from him too and, thanks to the happiness sweeping you up, and momentarily brushing away any crumbs of darkness shadowing your mind, you leaned up and pressed a kiss again his nose. The alien squeaked out one of those puma-sounding noises at the small sign of affection, and after drifting his gaze back down at your expression to study your features, he leaned in and returned it by brushing his lips against your forehead so lightly and gently in a chaste kiss, he was always so careful with you, and you had no problem returning it. “Something small, is okay, right?” He questioned, a lilt of shyness threading through his voice as he brought up the prior topic and with a nod of your head, and a gentle smile walking onto your face, “Something small.” You reassured him. However, naturally, Azrael assumed it would be focused on you over himself, since he started to gently stand back up and start to peel the blanket off of you again and it seemed as though when he saw more and more of your body became exposed in a slow, gradual show for him, his sets of eyes traversed the pleasantly long journey of your plush-soft, curvy sides and wide hips, how the belly you had dipped down and, beforehand, you would find yourself being shrouded in the crippling shadow of your own self-doubt and self-conscious but there was something different now, it wasn’t there. It didn’t even begin to manifest itself over you when he was peeking further and further. Maybe it had to do with just how comforting Azrael’s gaze was, riddled with understanding and not a speck of judgement anywhere within the darkness of his four eyes. When he looked at you, it sent a static through you, a spark that was more than determined to reignite the flame inside of your body, and its attempts were more than capable in doing just that. His four orbs alone were enough to make your heartbeat throb harder in your chest and make your breath hitch in your lungs, as if it were glued to the very edges themselves. Although, something stirred within you, sure, the thought of Azrael taking the reins to whatever you two were planning gnawed at your mind in pleasant chews, there was another idea that started to swirl around in your mind, not one of negativity, nothing like that, but something more on the giving side. He did so much for you tonight, striving to do what he always did so masterfully, maybe it was time to do something back for him. Just before the grand reveal of your lower half, his free hand inched over towards your hip and laid it palm down against your skin, pulling a quiet gasp from the back of your throat. His hand, effortlessly taking over almost all of the space on the top of your thigh, was the combination of both soft from the extra padding on his digits and palm, with the scattering of calluses splayed on the edges of his hands and in the bends of his fingers, manifesting a silent story of just how much he pushed himself into his hunting. Your heart pounded, the thudding of it slamming against your chest rattled through your skull and pierced through your eardrums, practically silencing everything else whilst you stared at him, the softened expression that stayed true to his face, decorated with relaxed, half-lidded eyes and a warm smile spread across his lips, his four orbs flicked up at you, you assumed at first, but it took only the feel of his sharpened claws gently pricking and prodding at the thin material of your panties as a little warning to you that he was about to tug them down and off of you, and it was a gentle, silent reminder of what you had planned and on the fact that he even took the time to ready you, to ask wordlessly if it was okay for him to do so, the motions of your plan sparked to life as if they had a mind of their own. “Azzy wait-” your hand crept up, and you grasped his wrist, to the best extent that you could, actually holding a part of him really put into perspective just how much larger he was compared to you as your digits barely even wrapped around one of the sides. He screeched to a halt in record time, both his palm and fingers left your side much to your chagrin, nearly snatching his hand out of your light grip, “Have you changed your mind?” He questioned softly with an understanding lilt flowing through his tone, however, you shook your head, and you sat up more properly on the mattress so that you could turn and swing your legs over to the edge of the bed like how you were prior, and your softened eyes flickered up to his adorably confused and concerned face, he even gave his head a slow tilt to one side as if he were a large puppy. “No, no not at all, but…” you soothingly cooed whilst you leaned forward and in time, the alien moved back just a step or two, to make sure he wasn’t crowding you. You released your grip on his wrist and now, it was your turn for your own private little show when your eyes started at the top of his broad chest and in a deliberate crawl down the contours of his sculpted body and internally, you were thanking your lucky stars for the thin piece of under armor that Azrael worse ever so casually, its fabric hugged around his defined torso, outlining every little ridge of his trained, bulging muscles, it left little to the imagination. “You did so much for me tonight, and, I know you’re gonna like, disagree, but you didn’t have to,” and just as you predicted, his lips parted to start the said disagreement, until, it was replaced with a quiet, husk of a gasp tip-toed out instead, thanks to your hand laying palm down onto his chest, and in a slow-moving, downward stroke, you dragged your palm lower and lower across the length of his torso, the tips of your digits rising when they crossed over the ridges of his defined body and the risen skin of a scattering of deep-set scars, shielded away from your gaze. Then you felt it, where his top met his bottom armor, seemingly blended in together to seem conjoined as one full piece only to be disproven when your fingers curled over the edge of his pants and nudged rim down ever so slightly, enough for your intruding eyes to sinfully sneak a peek at the thick-haired base of whatever he had down there. That was the thing about Azrael, with him being an alien, your imaginations were the limits of picturing just exactly what he had hidden down there, and you had your excitement of finally seeing the grand reveal to blame for when your thighs lightly pressed against one another. “(Name)...” Azrael mumbled out, his accented voice dangerously low, a dusting of a blue blush sprinkled across his cheeks, the temptation to move his hand to yours to lead it off of him so that he can fully take care of you over the other echoed throughout his mind, and at first, his hand almost carried it out, the tips of his sharpened claws drew close enough to lightly prick and scrape against the skin of your wrist, but for once, you were faster than him. Craning your head forward, your lips brushed against his abdomen in a chaste peck, and the tiny gesture it was, was enough to send his hand into a skidding stop, his eyes went wide, almost as if all four were threatening to pop out of his skull, “So now,” you started again, whispering against blue skin, your lips sensually walked down his abdomen, leaving a trail of kisses in your wake, some of them were quick that emitted a sense of urgency to move onto the next while some of the others you held down for a few extra moments or so, so when your lips broke the lip-lock, the shiver that rushed through his body was more pleasurably intense than the last jolt ending it’s electrifying current through his senses. “I wanna do something for you. You’re such a sweetheart, Azzy, it’s only fair that I return the favor and take care of you this time,” The feeling of thick strands of snowy blue tresses brushing up against your jawline in light tickles, your eyes flickered down, studying the thickly haired base of his privates before continuing, this time, your unused hand that resided on one of his inner thighs climbed up further and further in between his legs, “You, mmhf, you do not have to do that f-for me, little one, it is the Alpha’s job after all to-hnh!~” His words were suddenly cut off with a shuddering groan when your hand moved up and placed itself onto his sack, and with slow, groping squeezes with your fingers rubbing over him, your lips attacked the base of his privates with a numerous amount of kisses through the thick fur like hair, your eyes pried open and they flicked up towards his face, doused in a deep shade of blue that spread so far across his face, it reached the tips of his pointed ears that even twitched a few times with growing excitement. All four of his eyes were screwed tight, and his hand that hung at his side had shot up and clasped over his mouth as if to silence any fleeting moans that dared to escape his lips, however, that tactic wasn’t too successful in stopping every noise that emitted from him since in the deep pit of his chest, chuffing noises rumbled throughout his body and vibrated against his padded palm, and it appeared as though he was silently cursing those purring noises since every time one crept out from in between his lips, his already closed eyes would tighten more and even his fingers gripped at his mouth and jaw harder too. With your head lowered so far your lips tantalizingly close to where you were so determined to cover in kisses and licks and suck, you certainly weren’t prepared for what you witnessed. In the corner of your eye, your head leaned back enough to drink up the sight of the tent in his pants growing right in front of you, it was to be expected, and hoped for, that he was truly enjoying what you were giving him and if it wasn’t, you were damned sure to find something that he’d love more than anything while you two were like this while you had him. You just had to. Your hand clenched the front of his pants again, preparing to tug the rest of the fabric again, however, the tent grew more, and more, and more, until the tightening thin armor expanded to such a tight bulge, the fabric snapped, and his length sprung out from its suffocating cloth imprisonment and you didn’t know really what to say at first as you sat there, gawking at the unusual sight with a dropped jaw and wide eyes and, as if history repeated itself, you found yourself at a lost for words until your stuttering lips managed to conjure something up. “...holy shit.”  You marveled. His length was anything but the norm that you’ve seen or have been used to. The shape of it alone was the biggest difference, it wasn't human, at all, it was a long, thick, tentacle-like shape that had a thick base and as your eyes traveled further up to the tip, you noted how it started wide and thick but slimmed down until the head was a point, and along the length and around the girth of it all, it was covered with small spines, no bigger than a thumbnail but still, their quantity overruled the size easily, they were everywhere except the tip since there wasn’t that much space at the thin head, but, they were heavily condensed around the the third and final part, a swollen knot that throbbed a few times now that he was fully erect and excited and in tune with each throb of his knot, the tentacle part wriggled deliberately, almost as if it were hypnotizing you to lean forward with your mouth as agape as it is now and swallow around the shaft. “Is, is problem?” Azrael’s trembling voice was like a hook, line, and sinker since it pulled you out of your stunned bewilderment. Blinking profusely with a shake of your head to top it off, your eyes snapped up onto his panting, flushed face and just before any worry attempted to leak through the lusty haze that was spreading heavily through him, you shook your head. “N-No! I’m just, s-surprised! I, Azzy you have, A LOT, down here-” “...is too big?” “It’s fucking HUGE, but that’s not what I meant-” Your still hand rested on your thigh and your fingers clenched tighter into its fist as you stared, you really didn’t have any idea on how to start with something like this, sure, you’ve given oral to past partners, even the most recent one, but Azrael was different. Not only has he never, ever, experienced something like this, but because this was Azrael, the place in your heart that he happily took over was major, he mattered more to you than you probably both ever realized, so you wanted to make this perfect, better than just enjoyable, you wanted this big alien man to get weak in the knees and need to sit down next to you after he was done or, if you really knew what you were doing with just the type of equipment he had, maybe even in the middle of it, so, with a deep breath through your mouth and out through your nostrils, your hand shot up to his length and your hand coiled around the base of it, right above the knot and you gasped lightly to yourself while a quiet snarling groan rumbled through his chest. Just barely, did the tips of your finger graze the edge of your palm, at least your hand actually managed to wrap around something of his, even if it wasn’t enough. Your hand inched up, the spines underneath your hand brushed up against your palm, they flared up and down ever so lightly in time with the twitches and throbs of his shaft, the sensation was odd, yes, but definitely not tempting. Your hand continued, squeezing around his shaft, you stroked all the way up to his tip in a slow, smooth, glide, the spines flexing out only to relax again and when your hand ended it’s test run at his tip, your thumb pressed down onto the leaking slit to tease the opening in small circles, and with each rotation, thick, warm, and surprisingly sweet-smelling precum began to impatiently seep out of his tip, coating your digit steadily and you were only more surprised when you pushed your hand back down in another pump and it milked more of his pre to steadily drip out of his tip and leak out onto his shaft and even have droplets push out over the edge of the slit and drip down onto the floor beneath the both of you. “L-Little one your, your hand is already plenty, rest, mmhmf, rest your body, you do not have to do more~” Azrael husked out, his eyes fought to stay open, and through blurry lenses, he gazed down at you. His hands resided at his sides, and only momentarily did one of them inch up and forward towards you and at first, glancing at it in the corner of your eye, you naturally assumed that it was him possibly attempting to thwart your actions again, but with how his held out hand twitched and his digits trembled halfway there, it wasn’t like he was trying to stop you, it was almost as if he weren’t sure if he should put a hand on you again, like he was worried if he grabbed you too hard or placed it in the wrong spot while you were like this, it’d hurt you, so, with another breath, his hand retracted and fell back to his side again. Witnessing this, your eyes traveled back up to his flushed face and you let a smile dance onto your lips, “Do you trust me, Azrael?” You questioned and, yes, at first, you attempted to let a flirtatious lilt coat those words to make it sound more enticing, but, you truly wanted to know, even if him letting you do this was evidence enough that he did since he could very easily stop you in a number of ways, ones more violent than the last, still, it probably eased both of your racing minds and thoughts to have consent audibly said instead of just out in the open like this. After a few moments of catching his panting breath, a thin grin pulled onto his lips and he nodded gently down at you, his multiple eyes tender and true, “I trust you, little one, I-I know you would never do me wrong in something as passionate as this, and you, mhmf, you have my word with the Gods as my witnesses, you may trust me too.”

“...god how do you exist, you’re, such a sweetheart, Azzy, I swear…~” You giggled quietly, and continued when he shrugged as a little joke, as if he didn’t know, but after glancing back up at his face, and how he stared down at you with such a loving sensation pouring from all four of his darkened orbs, you have no idea how you manage to wrangle your internal thoughts of leaning up or pulling him down to your level to kiss him where you should have willed yourself to do beforehand when you were up there, every ounce of your body wanted to just slam your lips against his in a deep kiss, to feel him kissing back with all of the experience and courage that he could offer, and have his large hands grasp at your hips and rear to keep you pinned against his broad, strong chest so the kiss wouldn’t be broken too soon, but, that would have to be saved for another time. You were already down here like this, right where your desire for him burned so brightly, if you were going to do this, it was now or you’d never be standing on this precipice of courage ever again. Your (eye color) orbs drifted back down to his twitching, awaiting length, the bizarre sight of his cock wriggling up and down or side to side with the smallest of moments intrigued you, you had your hand to planted firmly around his base as much as you could hold while your free hand propped up against the upper part of his thigh, close to his hip, to give yourself a steady form of balance in case you found yourself getting lost in this since his sweet-smelling aroma was invading your nostrils relentlessly, and the delicious scents imprinted themselves onto your mind with little effort and it triggered your mouth to even salivate more and it seemed to act as a good sign for what you just had planned since your tongue hung out of your mouth to swipe over your lips in a slow-moving lick. You craned your head forward, the pointed tip of his cock rested against your plump bottom lip and in between the both of them, the tip of your tongue peeked through and it swiped against the dripping head in a testing lick, as if you were either showing Azrael how this would work or if you were giving yourself just a taste of his seed and seeing if your nose was deceiving your tongue. Azrael’s sharp teeth gritted, you could hear the sharpened bones clicking lightly against each other, and he sucked in a sharp breath through the small gaps, the hand that masked over his mouth and nose released him and started to rub down from the side of his neck, to his chest, and finally it dropped down to his side again, he grasped the hem of his shirt and his claws nearly tore into the thin, ocean-blue fabric. If he was like this after just one tiny lick, now, you found more of that confidence peering through your worry and doubt.

“Lemme take care of you, Azzy…~” You breathed out intentionally against the sensitive flesh of his cock, the tentacle-like appendage twitched in a wriggling jump while Azrael husked out a quiet groan to himself. Your mouth cracked open, the tip of his length snaked its way into your mouth, and as you pushed your head further and further down the inches, the exotic feelings and tastes overwhelmed you. The copious amount of pre spilling out of his tip and staining the back of your throat and tongue with the spines surrounding his shaft flared out and brushed against the roof of your mouth and the top of your flattened tongue, however, this time, they didn’t relax and go back down, it was like the spines were doing their unwritten and unspoken duty in keeping his cock sheathed far down your throat and mouth, and it was at that epiphany that you were thanking your shit ex for helping you out with something like this now. You pushed yourself more, and more, until, your lips halted at the top of his swollen knot, you peered at it, and as much as you would try maybe another time, today was not the day to risk a broken jaw trying to unhinge it to try and swallow his whole length, if anything, you were more impressed with how far you got on your first attempt. Azrael though, he was another story, he had the worry of being too big in more than one ways pierce at his psyche, he had question after question after question nervously wracking through his brain to the point where he didn’t know which one to ask first, if he had to do something, if you could take him, were you changing your mind at all, just to name a few and while, he was enjoying himself, more than he thought or imagined, your sound well-being came first overall. His hand fumbled with the crinkled hem of his shirt, if he was going to place it on you, now would be the most obvious time. So, with a light huff through his nose, his hand raised and much to your surprise, he planted it on the top of your head where his claws brushed through (hair color) tresses, petting the top of your head and your scalp gingerly, “Are you, mmhmf, doing...whatever it is you’re doing good, still, (name?) Don’t you, need to breathe, should I, mmf, sit down, pull back, I-” With a lift of your hand, you planted it onto his hip and it silenced his words, four blackened eyes met yours and with a watery wink and a muffled smile, you pulled your head back, smoothly, your tongue threading through the gaps in between his spines and it dragged across the bottom of his shaft, and just before his entire length left your mouth, you hurriedly slammed your head back down to his knot. Azrael’s head shot back, pulling a long, deep groan, deep from within the alien’s chest. You repeated this process a few times, sliding his cock almost all of the way out of your throat only to quickly swallow it down again until you found a steady, rhythmic pace to set for yourself, even your hand that was clamped around his base to hold his twitching length at the ready had replaced itself onto his other hip, and you gripped at him, fingers digging into blue skin, not enough to break the surface of it, not even in the silence, but mayhaps enough to cause a speckling of bruises to pop up later for him to be reminded of just what happened tonight. Your head bobbed up and down, your tongue danced around his shaft, grinding up against the sides of it and you did attempt a few times to swirl it completely around his thick shaft to no avail, at certain parts, so you made sure to give the poised spines extra attention by letting the tip of the muscle flick across a couple of specific ones. You swallowed around him, the constricting walls of your throat enveloped around his cock, massaging the tip and shaft. “Mmmhff~ Nnnhhff~ L-Little one, by the Gods themselves, your mouth, your throat~ So warm, so w-wet~ Tight~ It’s, is too much~ T-The fact that you, you humans do this, I-hnh-I won’t last long with, hhnff, with your skills~” The rest of Azrael’s words melted into his native tongue and while you could make out some words here and there, the rest almost sounded like complete lust-driven gibberish. He had leaned over you, his knees buckled like you had hoped, not enough to make him fall, but enough to make him not stand up straight anymore, and he had the edge of the bed to act as his savior to catch him if he did, and his hand that rested on the top of you head had inched to the back of it, and you could have sworn that you felt the faintest urging push of your head to swallow him down again. One of your hands had inched down from his side, it slid down the dip in between his crotch and thigh, and you cupped his sack again, your palm groping and rubbing against him, and you felt it, that tension inside of him starting to tighten further inside of him, he was getting close, it was sooner than you thought but again, this was all new territory for someone as battle-ridden as him, and you felt a sense of pride shimmer inside of you that you were the first person ever to do this to him, and with how he was, probably the only one too. You hollowed out your cheeks by sucking harder around him, and your head bobbed up and down his length faster than before, the quiet slurping that ghosted out from your lips was much more audible now, and the tip of his cock slammed against the back of your throat, muffled whines rattled through your body and shot through his length with gags and whimpers fluttering in between the latter and it didn’t take too much, maybe 2 or 3 more fast pumps of your head when a loud, ear-piercing, animalistic roar of pleasure ripped through Azrael’s body and shot out of his mouth. Wave after wave after wave of white hot pleasure crashed over his body when his orgasm rushed over him. His seed spurted out of his tip in thick, warm ropes, and with each pump, his hips trembled and bucked into your awaiting mouth and throat, his hot cum cascading down your throat in a sweet-tasting waterfall. His eyes were glued tight, staggering, trembling groans with the hint of growls rumbling through his body, his hand forced itself to release your strands and almost instantly, he forced his eyes to pry open to stare at his open palm and claws, checking to see if he tore anything out and with relief, even more so when he lazily inspected the back of your head and saw no imperfections, he stepped back gently, his hips relaxing and pulling back, his softened cock fled from your mouth and throat, strands of your saliva stretched out and connected your lips and his length together until you broke by licking your lips, and without it being buried so far down your throat, the air flew down into your lungs in a welcomed, deep gasp before you panted out heavily. “How…” your voice was hoarse, with a lick of your lips and a clearing of your throat in the form of a soft cough, you started again. “How was that?” You panted.

The alien stood back up straight, his pants were hiked back up and adjusted the way they were set before all the while panting breaths wracked through his body, making his chest heave. Strands of his pastel blue hair stuck to his forehead with the help of the sheen of sweat that coated his skin up there, “That was...if that was your throat alone, then the Gods have certainly blessed whoever will, hnn, be your mate, yes?” He rasped, “You don’t think it’ll be you?” You questioned back, and surprisingly, he chuckled tiredly through the catching of his breath. “A Goddess such as yourself should not have to settle on the first man who treats her with kindness, I am simply doing what should be done by the one you use to spend the rest of their life with you, what that excuse of a man should have done,” man, his culture was something else. It really did take you a moment or so that process really what he just pointed out, that the two of you doing this tonight, to him, because of what he’s been taught and brought up to, this could all mean nothing if you met something literally tomorrow and decided to stay with them for, forever, instead of him.

And he’d be okay with it. Your eyes softened, “Azzy-” His hands reached down and much like before, he hoisted your legs up and back over onto the mattress and adjusted you so that you laid comfortably against the slab before grabbing the edge of your blanket and pulling it up and over you to drape it across your still warm and humming body, “Now, you should be more than tired, yes? Talk to me later today if you wish, but for now, little one, I must see you in your dreams, hm? Greet me there with kindness, (name), pleasant night.” With one more kiss to the middle of your forehead, he leaned back up to his towering height, his eyes half-lidded and fixated on your face, a warm smile played at his lips before giving you one more final nod, and he turned around, you stared at his sculpted back, the words were at your lips again, but this time, it was too late, the door opened and Azrael stepped out, but, not before giving you one more tender, true smile and even a little wave with his fingers, and the door closed.

“...I love you, Azzy.” The words found their way on the path out of your mouth after all.

[poptod]

I don’t know if you take requests for Benjamin but could you do a fic between him and a sorceress/sorcerer reader. Maybe they meet in the forest and he watches her/him (maybe it becomes a series)?

notes: ooo that's a good idea! i've never written for him before (or seen twilight) but ill try my best. notes extra: i just finished watching a compilation of rami in twilight and holy shit twilight is so fucking bad its hilarious anyway. didn’t stay all that true to the prompt (sorry) but I hope it’s sufficient nonetheless

+

That's not quite right.

For several weeks now, there's been something off about the scents in the forest. He's not the only one to have noticed the change, but he is the only one suspicious of it, which he assumes is part due to his connection with the earth. It doesn't bother him, their lack of concern – for some reason, he prefers searching on his own. Hours spent alone amongst the tall, dark trees lined with glittering snow, humming to himself, and tracking the changes in the air.

Today is especially quiet. Almost silent. While it's uncharacteristic for the world to fall silent, it's a common sight in this forest, where nothing quite lives anymore. The trees feel more like stone beneath his fingertips than like wood, and the snow at his feet freezes his skin far colder than it should. 

As the strange scent grows stronger the feeling begins to linger in his own steps, tracing the only walkway through the snow in all the forest, marking him as the singular disturber of the peace. His heart pounds as the dread weighs heavier yet in his chest.

It comes to a point where the pressure is overwhelming, pulling down on his shoulders and legs, begging him to kneel in the presence of nothing more than a sun-lit clearing. Nothing grows in the dirt circle, but there has to be something about it; the snow doesn't cover the earth like it does in meters just steps away. He pauses just outside the edge. Here is where the scent is strongest – there is no doubt.

When he raises his hand to where the sunlight streams from above, he finds a hard surface to press his hand against. His brow quirks upward as he presses harder, gauging the invisible material, wondering as to its' origins. It's a sort of magic, though he can't tell the type. Maybe pagan.

Warmth flows through him when he chants reveal in a silent language. A simple command, and the protection spell around the circle is weak enough to fall at the utterance of his spell.

The mirage falls in just a second, dripping down from the sky like a cloak till what remains is a stone tower. Moss and vines creep their way up the cracks and fissures, somehow still a vibrant green in winter, and presumably kept that way by the warm sunshine falling on this particular spot. The scent, though – it's intoxicating. Not quite good, but not unpleasant either. More like a potion mix of lavender and mustard seed. It overpowers all his other senses, begging him to give in further to his curiosity.

Muttering and footsteps sound from behind him, and in a flash he's hidden behind a small cluster of trees, peeking through the bark to see the clearing and tower.

You appear from the dark, and the first thing he notices is the comically large hat on your head. It covers your face entirely in shade, and though most of your other clothes are just as comically too big for you, it's... cute. You look smaller than you already are, and for some reason Benjamin finds himself blushing. The walking stick in your hand rises high above your head, carrying a crystal atop it that reflects the sunlight in a red hue, casted like stained glass on the white snow.

You're mumbling to yourself as you slowly make your way to the tower's entrance. His eyes widen when he notices a trail following you – half-baked spells and enchantments that glitter like dust in the sun's rays, dissipating in the air before they can fall to the ground. It draws his eyes to the book in your hands that's the size of his head, with old tattered pages covered in notes.

There's a druid in the forest.

He decides it's best if he's the only one to know. The others can get far too protective of territory, misunderstanding the modern way of the world all too easily. It takes a little work to make sure they don't wander too close to your hidden tower, or catch onto your scent and rambling spells, and soon he finds himself with a full-time job of protecting you. Oh well – it's something to do, and in the evenings he can watch you beside the river almost fully frozen over with ice.

The scarf wrapped around your neck is a little too big, drooping onto the ground from your shoulders hunched over the ice. Benjamin's beginning curiosity surrounding you has by now grown into a fondness, strange as it may be. You aren't all that good at protection spells or defensive spells, but you can bend life to your will, moving the water and plants without the power of crystals or runes. The trees seem to whisper everywhere you go, leaves and pines breaking off the branches to simply follow you. He can hardly blame them – he's following you too, after all.

Your nose has turned a blushing pink from the cold, a hint that leads him to believe you're human. Blood and all. Maybe that's part of the reason he likes watching you. You're the only creature within fifty miles that still has warm blood, as all the creatures of the forest have long been driven away by the mere presence of Benjamin and his cult.

It's a few weeks in before he notices that you're humming each time you speak. As though put under a curse, each word you mumble goes to a tune, one that haunts his dreams the second he hears it. All that long term exposure to you must be doing something to his brain – something that convinces him he needs to protect you, something that tells him he shouldn't dare speak to you.

He knows that since you're a druid, you're aware of the existence of the supernatural, but that fact brings little comfort to him as his tongue traces his fangs, watching you with hooded, red eyes. Your magic is different from his own, though to the outside eye the two of you are far more similar than he'd deem correct. The definitions of your different magics are a little shaky, but after some thought he decides that yes, you are a druid. Not a witch, or a warlock, or a sorcerer – none of them quite fit the powers that you have. The way the earth bends to your step.

If Benjamin can't find you at the tower there's only one other place you are; the river. It's still half-frozen over, but as of recent you haven't been all that focused on the water. For the most part you're focusing on the earth, melting the snow beneath you in order to reach it.

You're humming again. Watching the ground with focused eyes, holding glowing fingertips above the fertile earth.

"Idir ann is idir as," you sing, and it must be the first time he's clearly heard your voice, as it circles his head like whiskey and sways the trees into a gentle dance.

Whatever language you're singing, it must be a sort of enchantment. Maybe an offering of good wealth to the lifeless forest. All the world seems to hum in harmony with you, creating your own orchestra that swells with every breath you take.

"As an sliogán, Amhrán na farraige..."

"Suaimhneach nó ciúin – Ag cuardú go damanta."

When did he start humming?

How does he know the tune?

Something is in the air. It's like that scent all over again – all he can think of, all he can feel is you and your magic, overpowering the thoughts of ancient trees and godless skies.

"Between the here, between the now," you sing softly, and he could swear he almost had a heartbeat again, just to lose it in your hypnotic song.

Now you're singing in English – a language he can obviously understand – and with his curiosity towards the meaning of the lyrics gone, he can concentrate on the spells falling from your hand. Tiny stars, tiny universes drift down from your fingertips, landing on the earth as a sprout of vibrant green begins to stretch upwards, a small, white bud on the end.

"Neither quiet nor calm... searching for love again."

It doesn't feel like something so heavenly could come from you. Actually, the way your voice echoes in the forest, the way it combines with your magic makes it feel as though it's coming down from the sky like rain, falling on waiting ears and eager eyes.

When did he start singing with you, under his breath?

How does he know the lyrics?

"Between the stones, between the storm Between belief, between the sea I am in tune..."

And then it stops. The swell dissipates and what you're left with is a white flower sprouted in the ground, the center a vibrant purple that fades into the soft petals.

It's the only color the frozen forest has.

He doesn't quite know what he's doing, when he emerges from his hiding spot long after you return to your home. The sun will rise soon and the others expect him back before then, but something pulls him, something forces him to stay as 'something' always does. It's probably your lingering magic – that's what he reasons as he steps closer to your flower, wide eyes observing every detail of the white and purple petals.

Kneeling in the snow, he raises his hand above the flower, shifting the wind to brush against the single leaf and allow the pollen to float into the air. Magic like yours falls from his hand – golden stars, drifting onto the ground where they stay like gemstones. It takes a moment before the earth willingly absorbs them, but the moment it does another flower sprouts and blooms much faster than yours did.

Two of them sit there now, one purple and the other blood red. You'll find it - he knows you will. You come here almost every day.

He walks back home with your song occupying all his thoughts, twisting and tweaking him even hours after. It echoes in his head, over and over and over again, until all he can think of is you.

Neither quiet nor calm

Searching for love again...

[yourgalaxy]

~FINDING HOME~ (Part 4)

Pairing: Taehyung x female O/C

Genre: Fluffyest Fluffy Fluff, a little bit of angst if you squint really hard.

Summary: After getting used to the idea of just being her and her little daughter against the world. Autumn is proven wrong once again when fate has different plans for them.

Warnings: None

Word count: 2865 

A/N: The original prompt is from @hybridfanfiction ( their prompts are the cutest, check them out!) This is my first attempt on sharing some of my work and is also my first hybrid fic. I love the reader inserts but not a fan of the Y/N type thing so feel free to just imagine your name instead if you prefer! I have material to make this a series but will leave it as a one shot for now to see if you guys like it! I totally don’t own the gifts.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language. Read at your own risk 😂

Extra A/N: I didn’t get the chance to post this last week but to compensate you guys, I’ll be posting the first part of my new Mafia Au, so watch out for it!

Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 4 Ch. 5

‘’ Hey, Tae’’ - Autumn came out to the back balcony where Taehyung had gone for a sunbathe after dropping Haneul off at the school. - I realize how boring it can be to stay at home for so long every day, so I was wondering if you would like to come to work with me? - The way his eyes light up and his tail started to wag was enough of an answer. - ‘’Really?!’’ - He almost fell out of the chair trying to stand when she nodded yes. - "Ok, I'm ready!" - She couldn't suppress her laugh as he took her hand, wide eyed, tail going crazy behind him, he was almost bouncing in place. - 

 ‘’ It wasn’t the plan to introduce you to the boys like this, but it might be for the better, they can get really chaotic when they get all together. Today it will just be Jin and Jimin at the store because it’s Kookie’s day off, so it shouldn’t be too crazy… Are you ok, Tae? - She could only see his profile while driving but he looked pale and really shaken. He shook his head and she decided to pull over to the side. The store was close, and she figured getting there a few minutes late was worth it if it was for Taehyung’s wellbeing. - ‘’ What’s wrong? Are you hurt somewhere?’’ - Her hand grabbed his arm in a comforting manner, unconsciously tracing circles on his skin with her thumb not really aware of the shiver that ran down his body. He cleared his throat, afraid of his voice betraying him. - 

 ‘’ I… I haven’t had many good experiences with males... I’m just a little nervous, I guess. I’m sorry’’ - Her heart went out to the ball of nerves that the boy had become, understanding right away that whatever he had gone through in the past was still very vivid in his mind, a wound that was still open and fresh. She wanted to hunt down whoever hurt him like that, because if there was something, she was sure about after the few days that Taehyung had stayed with them was that he deserved nothing but love, her instinct to put him on her pocket and protect him from the evils of the world kicking in full force. - 

 ‘’ There is nothing to be sorry about, pup. You don’t have to do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable. I can promise you, though, that none of my friends would ever do anything to hurt you intentionally, but I can definitely drive you back home if you don't feel ready to meet them’’ - Taehyung felt guilt wash over him. It was more than obvious that whoever these guys were, they were really important people to Autumn and he didn’t want to burden their relationship with his own personal demons. - ‘’ No, it’s ok, I.. I trust you’’ - He assured, taking her hand in his, not letting it go for the rest of the way. - 

 " LOVER BOY!!" - The sudden movement in his peripheral view, took Taehyung by surprise, with so many different flowers everywhere, there were too many scents, and it disoriented him for a second but before he could prepare himself to receive the attack Autumn had put herself in between, receiving the full force of the other boy's collision against her smaller frame with ease, as if she was used to it. The other guy didn't lose time to put his arms around her and pull her closer even though he was whining and complaining that she should have let him say hi to the newbie first. -

 This was not what Taehyung was expecting, his hands tightening into fists, and he had to bite his tongue not to let the growl vibrating on his chest break free. Human males were one thing, but a Hybrid? Why didn't Autumn mention that one of her dear friends was a Hybrid? And for how long would he have to watch them embrace each other?  He decided to clear his throat to catch their attention. Autumn immediately let go of the other boy, a big smile adorning her face as she looked his way. Somehow it eased Taehyung's heart.  

 -"Tae, meet Jimin. Minnie, this is Taehyung" - She introduced them and even when Taehyung tried to keep his distance by bowing politely, Jimin was too excited to let it go like that and soon, ignoring autumn’s warning, was hugging the taller man so tight that Taehyung was afraid he would pass out because his blood wasn't circulating properly. He had never met a feline hybrid so affectionate, if it wasn't for the pointy ears and his scent, he would had guessed that he was indeed a canine hybrid instead. -

  "Jimin, that’s enough bud, you will suffocate the kid’’ - Another person came into the room and this time Taehyung was well aware of the other man and his every move. Jimin finally let go of him with an apologetic smile, and even though he still didn’t trust him, he was way more comfortable with the Hybrid than with the newcomer - ‘’Hey there, my name is SeokJin, but you can call me Jin!’’ - The man extended a hand in Taehyung’s direction. He was a little bit taller than himself but instead of the intimidating aura that Taehyung would expect to come from him, he had a really friendly demeanor and a sweet scent. But Taehyung knew better than to carelessly trust people. He bowed politely murmuring a nice to meet you under his breath. Jin gave Autumn a knowing look and a soft smile when she mouthed an apology. - "Well, Taehyung, welcome to our humble happiness factory!!"

 "Come, Tae, let me show you around, I can teach you how to make an arrangement if you want!" - His Tail was hard to see at the speed it was wagging. Jin and Jimin looked at each other with knowing smiles plastered on their faces - 

 " So, is Jin....Jimin's sponsor? " - Taehyung whispered as he tried to emulate the little arrangement that Autumn had shown him how to make. She couldn't help but laugh a little at his cuteness, he seemed really apprehensive about her friends, but it was obvious that he was also curious even if he tried to act cool- " So Jimin is a citizen. He is Jungkook's adoptive brother, his parents worked on the citizenship as soon as he turned 18."

 " So, he is like... on his own now?" - This was the first time Taehyung met an independent Hybrid in real life and his mind was immediately filled with questions - " Mm, yes and no. He decided to move with Jungkook when he moved to the city around 5 years ago, Jimin doesn't have to live with him but he wants to, so they are roommates now! Which I'm really grateful for, I have been friends with both of them ever since" - 

 The way Autumn explained it made it sound so simple and normal but for Taehyung it was such a wonder. To think that there were hybrids out there that truly had the chance to live their lives in whatever way they wanted, blew his mind. Then he started to think about the fact that Jimin decided to just stay right where he was at, he wondered what he would do if he was in his place, he had imagined it many times before, that one day he would be free and he would travel the world and make friends everywhere, he wouldn't have to worry about anything more than his own happiness but now when he tried to imagine the scenes that gave him so much hope and comfort before, they didn't seem so bright and happy anymore. He wondered if we would really be able to leave Autumn and Haneul behind and move on with his life? 

 No, he couldn't… And the realization scared him.

 "Woah!! Tae, you are a natural!!" -Autumn was too busy admiring the arrangement that he had just finished fixing to notice the way Taehyung was looking at her, the soft smile that draw itself across his lips or the way his eyes were shining with adoration. If they were to let him, Taehyung felt like he would be the happiest if he could just stay with Autumn and Haneul for the rest of his life.

 … 

 Today was the day when it would finally become official. Taehyung was going to be no longer an undocumented stray, no one could mistreat him after today and Autumn couldn't be more relieved and happier about it.

 "Are you ok, Tata?" - Haneul's worried tone alarmed Autumn out of her thoughts. Leaving the dishes for another time, she made her way to the living room, approaching Taehyung's sitting form from behind. A hand immediately finding place on his head, she let her fingers massage the base of his fluffy ears out of habit, because she knows that it always calmed him down to be petted. Taehyung was afraid his heart would come out of his chest at this pace. - "Is anything wrong, puppy?"

 " No, I was just thinking. I'm totally fine!" - He sent both of them the best smile he could muster. Praying that none of them could figure out his real feelings at the moment. He didn't want to worry them- "Tata, you are my favorite friend ever!" - Haneul seemed to feel his distress, nevertheless. She hugged him tightly and it just melted both his and Autumn's hearts. - "Hey little love bug! I thought I was your favorite ever! - The living room soon became a battlefield, a tickling battle full of loud bumming laughs and sweet endeared giggles- 

 Haneul was fast asleep and they were peacefully watching a movie when a knock on the door burst their happy bubble. Taehyung could feel his whole-body tense even before Autumn opened the door, greeting a tall, serious looking man. - Hello! Namjoon, right? Oh, are you ok? - Namjoon went from a professional business looking man to a blushing mess in a second, he had managed to stumble upon thin air and almost fall in the process. Autumn almost cooed at the dimples that appeared with the sheepish smile that he dedicated her way. Taehyung felt like snarling at him. - Hello, Miss Kim, it's a pleasure to finally meet you, Yoongi and Hobi talk a lot about you, haha. - He extended his hand but before she could take it there was a body between them. For a second she wondered if she was imagining it, she had never heard Taehyung growling, but the aggression she could hear in the growl startled her. He didn't even flinch to acknowledge the way she lightly pulled his arm to try to stop him. - " Taehyung! Stop that. Namjoon is our guest!"

 "Oh, don't worry, I actually overstepped his boundaries. It's completely normal for hybrids to want to protect their families from any kind of possible thread, and I'm a complete stranger in his territory. I'm sorry, Taehyung-ssi!" - Namjoon stepped back, giving the anxious hybrid some space. Taehyung visibly relaxed as he did so. - "It's a pleasure to meet you, Taehyung-ssi!

 "Nice to meet you too…" - Taehyung reluctantly responded after Autumn nudged him from behind. - "Well, shall we get into business? " - Taehyung really didn't like Namjoon's smile- 

 " Ah, I see, so the process has different stages, I guess I didn't know that… " - Autumn couldn't hide her excitement, the sponsorship stages were designed to provide the hybrids with gradual freedom until they reached their full independence. 

 With this process, Taehyung would be able to get a job right away, he would get his probational ID by the end of the 1st year and by the end of the second year he would even be able to move on his own, and even though the idea squished her heart in an uncomfortable way, Autumn was really happy with the prospect of giving Taehyung the opportunity to freely live his own life. 

 "What do you think, Tae? Isn't this… Taehyung, what's wrong? Hey, puppy, why are you crying? - Before she could do much, Taehyung dashed out of the scene, closing the door of his from behind him. - " I'm sorry, Namjoon. I think we will have to do this another time..." - He just sent a sad smile her way. - " I hope he is ok, let me know if you would prefer for me to just send the final paperwork through mail, I'll make sure that everything is cleared up so that whenever you decide to sign, it will all be ready." 

 "Thank you so much, Namjoon. I really appreciate it!" - She said bye to him after he assured that he was just doing his work. Once she closed the door, a dread feeling washed over her. She hated seeing the people that she loved having a hard time and in the short time she had known him, the dog hybrid had claimed a place in her heart. She took a deep breath before walking towards Taehyung's room- " Hey pup, can I come in?"... Taehyung, I'm really… I'm really worried, honey boy, can you please let me in?" -

  After a few minutes of dead silence, Autumn was about to give up and just wait until he decided to come out on his own, when the door opened, and she was engulfed by a taller form. Taehyung was sobbing on her shoulder, trying to calm himself down by subtly breathing in her scent. She dragged herself and the boy to sit on the ground, giving him the opportunity to cuddle closer to her. She quietly petted his ears and traced random forms on his back, waiting for him to calm down. 

 After a while she unconsciously started humming a song that he didn't recognize, a song that she sang to Haneul every time she had a nightmare or was scared about something, and at that moment, with her warmth surrounding him and her sweet voice filling the silence that threatened with driving him crazy, Taehyung felt at home for the first time in his life. He felt safe and wanted, he felt like he belonged…

 " I'm not really sure about what happened, but I just want you to know that you are not alone anymore Taehyung. You are part of this family and whatever life throws at you from now on, we face it together, there is no other way around...You don't have to tell me if you don't feel comfortable sharing but if there is anything I can do to make it better, I need you to let me know" - Her soft voice came to him as a healing balm, she wasn’t mad at him like he thought she should of have after the way he acted, he could just sense worry and tenderness in her tone. His chest filled with love and warmth as he listened, wanting to stay like that forever. She patiently waited for him. - 

 " What would happen if I don't want to leave after the three years are up? Would you don't want me anymore after I become a citizen?" - She almost cried at how fragile and broken he sounded, he was sincerely afraid of them just leaving him behind and she felt guilty for not noticing how much the whole idea of the sponsorship process was affecting him. He had been quieter than usual for the past few days, but she downplayed it as just him being in the process of getting used to his new environment. - ‘’ Will I have to leave?’’

  ‘’ Oh, my sweet puppy’’ - She hugged him closer and he let out a content sight snuggling the side of her neck, discreetly scenting her. - ‘’ I don’t know everything you have gone through…’’ - At the mention of the past she immediately could feel the way his muscles tensed under her touch, so she did her best to ease him down, petting his ears always seemed to do the trick.- ‘’And you surely don’t have to share, but I hope we can replace those memories with new ones, ones full of smiles and lots of love, to the point that you can confidently believe that there is no place where you belong more than here with us… You will be able to decide, Taehyung, it will always be your choice. But know that we will always want you home.’’ - This time Taehyung started crying for a completely different reason. -

 ‘’ Can we have some ice cream?’’ - He asked in between sniffles after a few minutes of silence and Autumn couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her lips. And as she prepares three bowls of ice cream, she sent a message to Namjoon, asking him to email the paperwork for them to sign. -

[hwaflms]

Fav Emoji: 🗡

Hi!!! I was wondering if I can get a ship for txt, nct, and ateez pls? I’ll really try not to make this long, but it’s hard sometimes lol.

Anyways, I’m an 18 year old 03’ liner and I’m 5’6. As for looks, I’m african american so i have dark skin, brown eyes and cinnamon colored hair. I cut my hair really short above my ears. I look rather young for my age (unfortunately). I’m rather slim and i have long legs and arms so people say I look even taller than what i am. I have large round eyes a big forehead, a button nose, and thick(ish) lips with round cheeks(ok now i understand why ppl think i’m vv young 🙄) But nowadays i’m more confident in myself and it’s no longer an insecurity of mine. I’d like to say i’m very stylish yet i can’t pick an aesthetic for the life of me.

To sum up my fav aesthetic/style, i would have to say something that’s dark but sophisticated. Like dark academia, but add a bit more of an alt/goth style to it. I like listening to visual kei and rock music, but to be honest, I love all music, even country some times.

I’m from the south of usa, so that has influenced how i am A LOT. I usually don’t have an accent, but whenever i feel a really strong emotion, I get a really strong southern accent and it’s kind of funny. I also tend to go outside without any shoes or socks. I like playing with my pets outside the most, I have two dogs (one is a rottweiler and one is a bull dog), my cat (just a black cat) and my bird. I love love love animals. I love everything to do with nature as well, i feel a deep connection with nature, and once, i even cried while watching bees pollinate flowers help lol.

My psychic said my aura was multiple shades of green, which i think it fits, seeing that green auras represented healers and earth lovers. My dad tends to call me a hippie lol. Astrology wise, I’m a leo sun, leo moon, and scorpio rising. My personality type is INFP-T. My friends say i’m quite funny, and they like to point out, “she’s really really smart, but like everyone, she has her dumb moments, but her dumb moments are the dumbest of the dumbest.”

I’m very sensitive, and not in the “i’m always crying way”. Yet, when i do cry, i tend to cry over the smallest of things, like the bee one. I cry over animals being cute, and I cry when i’m rlly rlly excited. Yet if i’m rlly sad, i can’t cry for some reason, and i’m just 😐. But, I try my hardest to comfort others and help others because there seriously is no other happiness in the world that makes me more happy than making others happy.

I like to talk a lot, as well (as you can see), and i’ll talk about every topic. I tend to talk most about child birth and genetics weirdly enough, it’s so interesting to me. But i also love to talk about astrology, space, and conspiracy theories. I’m highly spiritual. I’m also highly creative. I love drawing, singing, dancing, acting, all of that. Drawing has always been my strongest suit before i somehow got bored of it, but i still draw every once and a while.

I also like playing sports, as i’m naturally athletic. I did ballet, tap dance, gymnastics, track and field, cheerleading, soccer, and softball. (i think cheer is a sport and i’ll argue with anyone on that). I’ve lived in america, germany, and south korea, and i want to travel to so many more places as i grow older.

As for relationship stuff, I’ve never been in a relationship. I’m scared of boys to be honest. I was bullied in school a lot for being “ugly” and it was always by boys so i’ve never really had the best experience with them. I’m still trying to gain my confidence so that i could try dating.

My ideal type is someone smart (though i don’t hate himbos lmao), but i like someone smart and mature. I like someone who works hard, but not someone who’s too serious. With people, i like to have those love/hate relationships lol like we make fun of each other but we also have our soft moments. As for looks, i don’t rlly have an ideal type, yet there’s a couple things that i would go for. I like someone who’s taller than me, has bigger hands than me (mine are 18cm 😥), and has nice legs (i tend to like thicker legs, but i don’t discriminate). I do think smaller guys around my height are so cute too tho, like UGH I CANT CHOOSE.

My ideal date would probably be anything other than going to a restaurant. Maybe later on in the relationship that would be fine, but to be honest, i’m very awkward and shy at first, so it would just be weird. I find that doing something fun together really let’s you find out more about a person rather than just talking. So maybe an amusement park, or even doing an escape room together.

As for love languages, i’m not a very touchy person. Sometimes, i’m STARVING for a hug, but most of the time i don’t like to be touched. I think my love language is acts of service, and idk what’s it’s called, but just trying to find out abt someone. Someone would really know i like them when i ask for their whole zodiac chart, personality type, weekday of birth, everything.

Tbh, i’m very much like a tsundere. I don’t like showing affection very much, and i’d rather insult the ppl that i like than compliment them. Though, this is probably the reason ppl think i don’t like them when i first meet them. Sometimes i might get rlly mushy and cute and stuff, but most of the time, i’m just not used to showing affection, so i feel kinda uncomfy when i do.

Ok, that’s all, i really hope it wasn’t too much for you to read, i tend to get carried away ❤️ have a nice day ily

୨୧ 𓂃 : 🐇 :┊ i ship you with . . .

💌 — huening kai ♡ txt.

𖥻 the last thing a relationship with hyuka would be is boring. he gives off very "best friend who also happens to be your boyfriend" vibes, so there would be a lot off playing around and goofing off. he can be affectionate but also likes his space, like you, so you would be able to find a middle ground. he would like is your relationship was light and fun, teasing each other and making fun of each other. if you ever felt insecure, he would make you feel better in a less "let's talk about it" way and a more "ugh you're so silly, why would you think that when you're perfect??" way.

💌 — johnny ♡ nct.

𖥻 johnny is a chill and laid-back person, so conversation with him would come easy. there wouldn't be an awkward stage with him because johnny is a pretty smooth talker and he would make it easier for you to talk to him. johnny would NEVER make you feel insecure, if anything, he'd be the type of boyfriend who would be hyping you up all the time, even when you're doing absolutely nothing. johnny loves music too so, while he might make fun of you a lil for listening to country, he would love vibing to music with you. we all know johnny is mf hilarious, so he could definitely joke around with you and insult you playfully often ! plus johnny is a sexc tall boy and he has legs for days D:

💌 — hongjoong ♡ atz.

𖥻 hongjoong has the perfect balance of being mature and hardworking while also being playful. he knows how to take a joke and return the favour by teasing you, so i think in that aspect, you will have an easy-going relationship. he also will definitely be so supportive of you, and will be there for you whenever you need it. the kind of dates he would prefer would be more indoor ones, especially just in his studio !! he would show the amount of affection you're comfortable with, never pushing your boundaries or pressuring you.

♡ 𓄹 ࣪ ˖ i hope you like this !! and also, i just wanted to let you know that you are so so beautiful, okay, ilysm <3 boys suck, pls ignore them >:( thank you for sending this in, stay safe ^_^

[min-youngis]

We’ve Met

gif not mine

~ Pairing : Min Yoongi x Reader (Wedding Cake Baker x Maid of Honour)

~ Genre : Fluff, Humour, Pini n g

~ Summary : When Irene picked you to be her maid of honour, you didn't expect the very cute cake baker you'd be dealing with, and you sure as hell didn't expect all the bothersome feelings that tagged along.   

Strangers to Lovers

~ Word Count : a fair few i'd say (10,685)

~ Warnings : swearing, some smexy descriptions of Yoongi's hands

~ A/N : if you say anything bad about this, i'll cry. but i'll also cry if you say anything good about it. 

i'd love to hear feedback! spread the love!

masterlist in my description.    

~~~                                                                                   

You pull into a parking space opposite the destination and take a good look at the building you need to be inside within the next ten minutes.

It’s a small, single storey shop, with glass windows and two tiny tables on either side of the door. If you squint just so through your glasses, you can make out the display counter and all the sweets lined up. The white sign board on top reads Kim Seokjin Bakery in large, bold script and underneath, in smaller cursive, Wedding Cakes Available For Order.

It looks comical almost, all light and welcoming, baby pink and white themed, no doubt playing some bubbly radio-friendly pop, perched as it is, in between a dark, imposing tattoo shop on the one side and a sports apparel store on the other.

Trust Irene to find the brightest, cutest, most delightful bakery in the city. You let out a quiet groan, collect your bag from the passenger seat and your coffee cup from the console and climb out of the car, putting on your best I am here because you are my best friend and I love you and this is a part of my maid of honour duties face. You cross the road and after checking the address one last time, push open the door.

The first thing you register is the Katy Perry playing so loud, you feel like she’s singing Teenage Dream right inside your ear canal. The next thing you notice is the tall, broad shouldered, brown-haired man standing behind the cash register with a bright, friendly, maybe even genuine smile on his face.

He gives you a quick bow and shouts to be heard over the music. “Hello! Welcome to Kim Seokjin Bakery! What can I get you today?”

You’re convinced that you’ve stepped into one of those weird, Care Bear style, candy cane themed ice cream castles that Irene writes about in the children’s books she authors and the dude in front of you is Cheer Bear in the flesh.

You clear your throat a bit, working through the sensory overload, and begin to shout back that you’re here for a wedding cake tasting appointment and that the happy couple should be at the bakery any minute.

You’re halfway through the sentence, hoping against hope that he can hear you, because it'd be super awkward if you had to repeat yourself, when the music is cut off abruptly and you’re screaming, “-they’re almost here!” in the sudden, dead silence of the shop.

You shut your mouth immediately after trailing off at the ending and squeak out a soft ‘Sorry,’ refusing to meet....Jin's eyes, according to the name badge pinned on his chest that you can suddenly read, now that your ears aren’t being assaulted.

Huh. The man himself.

The guy looks like he’s trying hard not to laugh at your bashfulness and he’s about to say something, when the door behind the counter suddenly slams open with a loud bang, and a man in an apron stomps out, rage evident on his face.

“Jin, what the fuck? If I have to cut the music one more time because it’s too loud, I swear to God, I’m going to murder you-Oh, hello.”

You register how cute he is, even with his half-angry half-surprised expression, with a dash of flour on his forehead and clad in a fluffy, white cardigan, though he can’t be older than 26. Distantly, you also notice how elegant his fingers look inside his messy, icing coated gloves, his slightly veined forearms exposed with his sleeves rolled up.

You half heartedly raise your hand in a sheepish wave and watch with slight regret as he bows at you rapidly and mumbles out a quick ‘Sorry,’ before scrambling back to where he came from, quick as a flash.

He was there and then he wasn’t, so to speak.

Jin looks unfazed at the prospect of being murdered, still retaining his sunny disposition, as he lets out a small laugh and says, “Let’s try that again, shall we? Welcome to Kim Seokjin Bakery! My name’s Kim Seokjin. That grouch who just disappeared back there is Min Yoongi. Don’t mind him, he forgot how to have fun when he turned twenty one. Now I heard something about a cake tasting?”

You really don’t know what you’re about to say as your mouth opens, thoughts still stubbornly fixed on Min Yoongi, and it’s really for the best for all parties involved that Irene and her fiancé walk into the bakery at that moment.

“Y/N! You’re on time today!” she says, letting go of Namjoon's hand and making her way towards you, wrapping you in a hug.

You’d be offended at her surprise but you had, in fact, been late for the flower-picking and the venue-choosing, so you let it slide, letting her pull you into her frame and inhaling her permanent, calming, lavender scent.

You pull away to watch quizzically as Namjoon goes behind the counter, smiling brightly, and begins conversing with Jin like they’re old friends.

“They’re old friends,” Irene whispers, seeing your expression. “Met at high school, stayed in touch somehow, were in a band together apparently. Them and a couple of others. The other owner of this place, too. Something with Y? Yooni, maybe. That’s why we chose this bakery.”

You swallow thickly and whisper back, “Yoongi. Min Yoongi.”

She throws you a confused look, obviously curious about how you’re so confident about that piece of information, and she’s about to enquire about the same when Namjoon calls her, saying, “Darling? Let me introduce you to Jin.”

She throws you a look, one that holds a promise of this conversation isn’t over, and the two of you make your way behind the counter. Namjoon does all the introductions and when he lands on you, ‘Y/N, Irene’s best friend and maid of honour', Jin says, “We’ve met,” his eyes filled with mirth.

“I reached a bit early,” you explain. “I was just telling Jin that we were here for a cake tasting.”

Irene gives a good-natured, at least to her, punch on your arm and gently mocks, “Early? Oh, look at you go!”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have come at all,” you faux bitterly mutter under your breath, rubbing at the sore spot on your shoulder.

You’re snapped out of your whine when you hear Namjoon ask, “And where is the other owner of this fine establishment?”

You barely have time to morph your features back into their characteristically neutral expression when the back door opens again, and as if on cue, Yoongi enters, gummy smile on his face, gloves and apron off. It’s like you’re watching everything in slow motion, like that scene in Madagascar where Marty and Alex run towards each other with Chariots of Fire playing in the background. Except, instead of a chasing-on-the-beach sequence, it ends with a hug.

Once again, introductions are made all around (“Jin, this is Yoongi. Yoongi, this is Jin.” They all crack up at that, bless Namjoon's soul) and this time, there’s no mirth-filled grin when it’s your turn.

Yoongi’s hand comes up to rub the back of his neck shyly as he catches your eye.

“We’ve uh...met,” he drily says.

Once again, you’re rushing to explain, “There was an incident with the music just before you guys walked in.”

“Jesus, Y/N, how early were you?” Namjoon asks, slightly awed.

Again, you’d be offended if it weren’t for the fact that his shock is perfectly justified, given aforementioned past instances, so you just vaguely mumble, “A couple of minutes, that’s all,” and wave your hand in a dismissive get over it motion.

A couple more minutes pass, conversation floating around you with Namjoon, Jin and Yoongi reminiscing about their band. You find out that Yoongi used to be a rapper and you have to shake the mental image of him on stage, probably wearing dark, grunge clothes, fingers wrapped around a mic and gasping for breath.

It’s disconcertingly odd and not a little intriguing, as you try to match that Yoongi to the one currently laughing in front of you, still in that goddamn fluffy cardigan that makes you want to simultaneously wrap him in a blanket and wrap yourself in a blanket.

Different blankets.

Maybe.

Eventually, Jin moves to get the catalogue and the five of you walk to a little table at the corner, squeezing best as you can into a set up that should ideally host three people at most.

It’s an agonising hour and a half, as you discuss designs and shapes and flavours and tiers, with your left side pressed into Yoongi’s arm, his soft, low voice hitting your ear in such close proximity and his damned hands resting on the table, fingers interlocked, directly in your line of sight.

At the end of it, as you all wrap up and arrange a final meeting and you feel simultaneously hot and cold with the lack of his presence next to you, you’re convinced that the following three months are going to be...interesting.

                            ________________________

The next week passes in a flurry of activity at work and you barely have time to think about the wedding. With quarterly reports due by the end of the month, your boss is being more of a hard ass than usual and your only saving grace is Jungkook, your roommate, who manages to pick up the groceries and keep dinner in the microwave for you every time you reach home late.

Friday night, 9 PM, sees you climbing up the stairs of your apartment, bag threatening to fall from your limp grip and exhaustion heavy on your shoulders. The rain outside has made your hair scraggly, and your glasses are flecked with obscuring water droplets, even after you had tried shielding yourself with your blazer, and the cold is seeping into your bones, clothes sticking uncomfortably to your body. Your head is filled with thoughts of a warm shower and bed, and you can only hope that Jungkook’s meeting with his new producer is over by now.

You open the door and toe off your flats, calling out, “Kook? I’m home!”

“In the dining room,” you hear him shout back.

You make your way to the room in question, only to halt to a dead stop at the entrance, comically sudden, like in those Tom and Jerry cartoons where somebody gets hit by a large frying pan mid-step.

There, leaning back against the counter, tea cup in hand, is standing one Min Yoongi.

He’s wearing a beanie, black hoodie and dark blue ripped jeans and your mouth goes dry at his ring clad fingers. Those mental images of him rapping? Yeah, they seem more believable now.

Almost unconsciously, you scan him, toe to head, past the grey socks, the peek of his knee through the hole in his jeans, the outline of one of his fisted hands inside the pocket of his hoodie, lips pursed against the rim of his mug and the few strands of black hair that have escaped his beanie. Your eyes pause at the rings on his fingers curled around the handle of the cup, and suddenly, you don’t feel very cold anymore.

Your eyes finally meet his, only to find him staring right back at you.

His expression matches your own startled one, his mouth still comically puckered around the cup, eyes wide and filled with surprise, gaze unwavering from your drenched form.

“Hey, Y/N!”

You’re brought out of your somehow hyper-aware daze by Jungkook’s voice and so is Yoongi, who softly clears his throat and darts his eyes away from you, busying himself with his tea cup.

Poor, sweet Jungkook whom you didn’t even notice was in the vicinity and, bless his soul, doesn’t seem to have noticed the very obvious tension in the room.

He’s bent over the table, takeout brochure spread out in front of him, phone in hand and trademark, bright smile on his face.

Before you can reply, and probably for the best because you’re not sure whether your voice still works, he excitedly continues, “This is Yoongi. I’m gonna be working with him on a track!”

Turning to the man in question, he says, “Yoongi, this is Y/N.”

Simultaneously, the two of you, in the same voice utter, “We’ve met,” doggedly refusing to look at each other.

Jungkook tilts his head to the side, like a confused puppy, and asks, “When?”

“Irene’s wedding cake,” you explain shortly.

“Bakery,” he says at the same time.

You both awkwardly chuckle and Jungkook shrugs, satisfied with the answer(s).

“I’ve ordered pizza for dinner,” he tells you, holding the phone up. “You wanna go change into something warm?”

The realisation that your clothes are still wet hits you, and you suddenly feel a renewed wave of coldness.

You give him a ‘Hmm,’ and with a short, not-at-all awkward nod in Yoongi’s direction, you all but sprint away from the room, forcing yourself to not turn back and see if he was even looking at you.

You engage in what you think is a very necessary pep talk in front of the mirror while changing, and with a deep breath and one last, ‘He’s just a boy,’ you make your way back down.

Stepping into the living room, you find a box of pizza on the centre table, a sitcom playing on television and Jungkook in the middle of a slice.

Alone.

You feel your stomach sink.

Tamping down the disappointment, (all that work, and for what?) you return Jungkook’s full-mouthed, cheesy smile best as you can, nonchalantly grab a slice, and sit down next to him, passively asking, “Where’s Yoongi?”

“Oh, he left.”

Suavely, so suavely, like you couldn’t care less, you let out a noncommittal, vaguely inquisitive ‘Oh?’

“Yeah, he was only waiting for the rain to stop.”

You try not to let your chagrin show as you hum softly, hopefully sounding uncaring enough for Jungkook to not question your curiosity, and turn your attention to the Brooklyn Nine-Nine episode in front of you.

That night, you fall asleep to one part of your head repeatedly whispering, “He’s just a boy,” and another countering, “A very cute boy.”

You’re inclined to agree with the latter.

                         ________________________

Sunday mid-morning sees you in a trial room at a wedding dress boutique, trying on the Maid of Honour dress that Irene’s chosen.

(Puppy dog eyes, the promise of a free community library membership through her connections and ‘I promise, if you don’t like it, we can get it changed. But please, please, please let me pick out a dress for you.’)

You strip out of your t-shirt and jeans and unzip the dress cover that’s hung from a hook on the door, carefully slipping out the dark turquoise, soft, flowy cloth from it.

After a brief altercation between your glasses and the sleeve, you manage to pull it on, and turn to your reflection in the mirror.

You have to admit, you look good. The chiffon material seems to flow down from the V-neck to the clinch at the waist, where the material spreads out and the colour begins to slowly fade into a calm, deep blue, ending at your feet.

You might just have to tell Irene that she did a good job.

Unbidden, a thought rushes into your head, I hope Yoongi will be at the wedding. It’s a little surprising because, after all, he is just a boy.

(And you haven’t exactly faced your thoughts about said boy, so far preferring to stick to your usual reaction when feelings crop up i.e. stringent avoidance.)

Giving yourself a quick once-over and a satisfied nod, you push the curtain aside and re-enter the waiting lounge, immediately greeted by Miya cooing, “You look amazing!”

She and Hyejin are sat on the couch, already in their dark blue bridesmaid dresses, similar to your own.

Hyejin looks up from her phone, grin on her face. “I almost forgive Irene for picking you as maid of honour now.”

You mumble a ‘Thank you,’ blush creeping up your neck, a tad bit conscious from the attention, even when the source is your closest friends. Moving to take a seat next to Miya, you ask, “Is Irene not done yet?”

As if on cue, the curtains of the centre cubicle part and out steps your best friend.

“My head's too big for the tiara,” she says, like she isn’t standing in front of all of you looking like a goddamn princess, in her sparkling, white, off shoulder wedding dress.

The next couple of minutes are filled with squeals and twirling and ‘When did you grow so old? I can’t believe you’re getting married,’ courtesy Hyejin.

Two hours later, you’re all in your normal clothes and leaning back in your chairs, satiated after lunch at a restaurant nearby, and in high spirits off of the company and a productive day.

Miya lets her fork clatter on her plate, an air of finality in the sound and utters, voice sleepy, “I could go for dessert.”

You hum in agreement, already thinking about a good chocolate chip ice-cream or a slice of red velvet cake.

“Oh, I’d die for some cheesecake right now,” Irene says.

Hyejin pulls out her phone and searches for dessert places nearby and really, you should have known that this day was going too well, when a moment later, you’re choking on water as she reads out from her screen, “There’s a Kim Seokjin Bakery, like five minutes away. Wait, isn’t that where you’re getting the cake from?”

Miya repeatedly thumps your back as Irene enthuses, “Yeah! Joon and I tasted some of their stuff the other day, they’re good.”

And that’s what finds you, ten minutes later, about to enter Kim Seokjin Bakery.

The entire time while walking, you had wracked your brain, trying to think of an excuse to get out of this situation without making it sound suspicious, only to come up empty-handed.

You watch, palms clammy, eyes glued onto Irene’s hand on the handle, praying to all the gods you believe in only when you need something, that Yoongi’s on holiday, or that he’s late, or even that he’s just in the back and doesn’t surface the entire time you’re here.

The door swings open, and because you didn’t go to the temple on that one birthday when you turned thirteen and the higher ups have hated you ever since, standing there, in all his white cardigan glory is Min Yoongi.

The gods can suck it, you’re actively atheist now.

Before you can make a run for it, consequences be damned, he looks up from the counter top he’s wiping with a cloth and starts in a drone, “Welcome to Kim Seokjin Bakery, how can I help-oh, hey!”

No escaping now.

You raise a hand in greeting, refusing to meet his eyes, forcing the butterflies in your stomach to cut out the bloody rager they’re throwing in there, as Irene replies, “Hi, Yoongi!”

He moves towards the register and asks, “What can I get you today?”

You focus on choosing between a red velvet cupcake and a chocolate mousse, eyes burning holes into the glass as you force yourself to not look up or in his general direction.

Did that sweater always fill out his shoulders like that?

The others tell Yoongi what they want and now it’s your turn and you want to kick yourself when you honest-to-god stutter out, “O-One red velvet cupcake, please,” like a fucking teenager with a crush, your voice pitching up as your eyes catch on the single ring he’s wearing on his left pinkie finger.

The same finger that brushes against yours when you reach over the counter to take your cupcake.

You nearly drop the pastry as you feel a blush beginning to form at the base of your neck, and you mumble out a ‘Thank you,’ scurrying away to the table in the corner where Miya's sat, already halfway through her brownie.

You have to push away the thought of Yoongi making the very same cake that you’re about to eat. It’s simply too erotic an image for a bakery.

Forcing yourself to seem placid, you bite into it, immediately understanding why the place has such a high rating.

However, you’re rudely brought out from your cupcake-induced coma when you notice Hyejin and Irene sitting down at the table with wide, Cheshire grins.

You suddenly feel very unsafe, sat as you now are in between the two of them.

Miya looks up from her brownie and says around the spoon she’s still got dangling from her mouth, “Uh, guys? What are you doing?”

Hyejin's grin grows wider. “Y/N here has a little something she’s been hiding from us.”

Irene looks like she’s trying hard not to burst into giggles, as she coos and pinches at your cheek. “You’re the colour of the cupcake,” she observes.

You swat her hand away, busying yourself with said cupcake, stubbornly refusing to meet their eyes.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you sniff, before you take a huge bite, staring straight at the wall behind Miya, who looks mighty confused.

“What’s going on? What’s she hiding? Y/N, what are you hiding?”

Hyejin, truly the devil incarnate, leans back  in her chair and damningly says, “She’s got what the kids call a crush.”

There’s only so much avoiding you can do around the three of them and now you’re blushing in full force, fruitlessly fighting off your own grin as Irene lets out a cackle and Miya excitedly whoops.

You immediately shush them, sure that there’s no way Yoongi won’t notice all the noise they’re making.

“Shut up,” you whisper harshly. “It isn’t a crush, don’t call it a crush.”

Blatantly disregarding what you just said, Miya softly exclaims, “Oh my god, I knew something was weird when you were being quieter than usual on the way here.”

“Miss I-have-no-emotions is in love,” Irene teases as she nudges your shoulder.

Flipping her off, you quietly whine, “Stop, it’s nothing, don’t make it a thing.”

Hyejin dabs at her mouth with a tissue and nonchalantly says, “So I’m guessing it wouldn’t interest you to know that he keeps looking at you every three minutes?”

The blush that was fading is now back in full force as you try hard not to giggle, fucking giggle, and you manage another bite of your cupcake and unconvincingly utter, “Nope.”

You’re fighting a losing battle at this point really, as the rest of the conversation revolves around Yoongi and your crush and you’re repeatedly forced to slam your palm over Irene’s mouth every time she goes to call him for ‘wedding related reasons.’

You all leave the bakery, the others throwing obnoxious ‘Bye, Yoongi’s behind them, as you manage a small, shy wave.

It is possible that, maybe, you have a teensy crush on one Min Yoongi.

                              ________________________

The thing about liking somebody is that it makes you giddy. The thing about admitting that you like somebody is that it makes you feel like you’re permanently floating on a cloud.

You swear your glasses have been fitted with rose-tinted lenses and everything in the world has a lovely, warm glow to it. Logically, you know it’ll pass. A couple of weeks (okay, fine, maybe a couple of months) and you’ll hardly remember Min Yoongi. But for now, you’re going to enjoy getting lightheaded over something this inconsequential.

Jungkook figures out what’s happening about a week after the dress trial, when he walks in on a video call you’re having in the living room with Miya, in the middle of her squealing and you blushing. He stops at the door like he’s just seen a ghost when he hears you giggle and you don’t blame him.

Giggling and...emotion in general, are not things you do.

After getting over his shock at seeing you blush that vividly for the first time in your five year friendship and four year roommate-ship, he manages to wrench it out of you, howling in glee when he remembers how you had acted that night when Yoongi had come over.

He doesn’t let it go the entire day, always greeting you with a teasing smile when he sees you around the house and even going so far as to take the call about his collaboration with the man himself in the living room, you sitting right next to him on the couch.

You bear with him as well as you can, repressing the urge to bonk him with great difficulty. You won’t let him take away your good cheer.

That night, you’re chopping carrots as Jungkook leans over the stove, stirring at the bubbling gravy inside. He’s been relatively decent for the duration that the two of you have been cooking dinner, probably not wanting to test you when you’re holding a knife, and it’s the last thing you’re expecting when he asks, “So what're you gonna do about it?”

You nudge him to the side with your hip as you drop the vegetables into the pot.

“Do about what?”

“Your crush on Yoongi.”

You’re confused. He can’t possibly thing you’re going to do anything about it.

“Aren’t you going to ask him out?”

Apparently, he can.

As you wash the cutting board, refusing to meet his eyes, you ask, in an obvious tone, “No? Why would I?”

He turns away from the stove, letting the pot simmer and looks at you quizzically. “Because you like him?”

The poor, naïve boy.

Replacing the board behind the sink, you pick up two glasses from the cupboard overhead as you explain through a chuckle, “Jungkook, it’s just a crush. I’ll get over it, no biggie.”

His eyes grow wide with realisation as you walk past him to the fridge, and he switches off the stove, accusing stare following your motions.

“Why do you always do that?”

“Hmm? Do what?” you reply distractedly, as you pour out cranberry juice into the two glasses.

Suddenly, the carton is snatched from your hand and you look up to see Jungkook staring at you with a frown in his face.

“Not act on your feelings.”

You lean back against the counter and scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “I act on my feelings plenty. I have friends, don’t I?”

He takes a gulp of juice straight from the carton, ignoring your pointed stare at the full glasses right next to you on the counter, and begins counting on his fingers as he lists out, “The barista at the coffee shop near your office, that RA during our third year of uni, Mrs. Smith's daughter who visits every weekend-"

“Are all people I’ve gotten over, just like how I’ll eventually get over this crush too,” you interrupt, now beginning to get a little annoyed. This is starting to veer dangerously on talking-about-feelings territory and you don’t do that shit sober and before three in the morning.

Twisting the cap back on the carton, Jungkook says into the fridge, “You didn’t have to get over them. And you can’t tell me that this one isn’t different. I’ve never seen you this...free before, even with your previous crushes.”

“Dude, stop. This isn't going anywhere. Don’t harp on it,” you say with an air of finality, turning around and busying yourself with piling rice onto two plates.

You feel Jungkook’s eyes on you as you walk out of the kitchen, hands full, but thankfully, he doesn’t attempt to continue the conversation.

Dinner is quieter than usual, with you deep in thought about things that don’t bear thinking about, and Jungkook biting his tongue every time he’s about to talk, so as to not send you into a bigger spiral.

As you rinse the dishes in silence, passing them to Jungkook to dry, he finally says gently, “I just want you to be happy. And Yoongi’s a great guy.”

You merely hum in response.

Taking that as an invitation, he continues, “You don’t have to be so worried. What’s the worst that could happen?”

What’s the worst that could happen?

Your head repeats it over and over as you toss and turn in bed that night, running through worst case scenarios. You fall asleep with only one conclusive thought that doesn’t answer anything.

Feelings are stupid.

                              ________________________

You’ve practiced and perfected your signature act of stringent avoidance, and for the next two weeks, you drown yourself in work and Irene’s wedding that’s looming closer, absolutely refusing to let yourself even think about Jungkook’s words and Min Yoongi as a whole.

There were blips of course. A final cake tasting that Irene wanted you to go for, and when Jungkook asked for you to drop off some food at the studio when he was working with Yoongi. You managed to get through both events with minimal embarrassment, refusing to meet Yoongi’s eyes and sometimes pretending to not hear him when he spoke to you, coming out of both instances feeling like your heart had been put through a blender and eagerly looking forward to Irene’s wedding getting over and Jungkook finishing this damn song already, so you can just get over him in peace.

Two weeks left for the wedding and you, Miya, Hyejin and Irene are walking down a set of staircases on the pavement, all of you slightly tipsy from the tequila, including your usually teetotalling ass, about to enter a seedy looking pub with a sign on top of the door, at street level, that reads NYLON in bright, green neon tube lighting.

The thing about Irene, is that in addition to being a children’s book author who has weekly readings at the community library and volunteers in old age homes, she also lives and breathes hip hop music.

And being the incredible maid of honour that you are, for her bachelorette party, you’ve planned to end the night with a visit to a pub that often hosts some of the most famous underground rappers in the city. At least, that’s what Google said.

Somehow, from Irene’s frequent giggles as she stumbles her way down the staircases, and the slightly hazy look in her twinkling eyes as she clutches onto an equally giggly Miya, you don’t think she’ll mind, either way.

Hyejin pushes the door open with a flourish, and you all enter to the sounds of hooting. It’s fairly more packed than you had expected, crowd excited and bobbing to the bass thumping out of the speakers. There are too many people in front for you to be able to see who’s on stage, but even you have to admit that they’re really good, hardly pausing to take a breath as they rap out line after line.

And from Irene’s wide eyes and delighted grin, she seems to agree.

You can tell that you guys are a little late into the set, as they wrap up in the next ten-ish minutes or so, and for a split second, the crowd parts enough for you to see the performer on stage, sweating and panting and surveying the cheering crowd with a satisfied, cocky smirk.

The alcohol seems to drain out from your system as you make eye contact with Yoongi and your heart skips a step as he doesn’t look away, everything seemingly happening in slow motion.

The room suddenly seems too crowded to breathe, and without a word to the others, you turn around and push your way out of the pub, wanting nothing more than to get away from there.

You shove the door open and let it fall shut behind you, letting yourself take deep breaths as you slump against the wall next to the entrance. You shut your eyes and let your head fall behind, resting on the cool brick, abruptly feeling so tired as you faintly hear the thumping bass from behind you.

“Hey.”

Jumping off the wall as if a matchstick had been lit under your ass, your eyes shoot open and land on the man standing next to you, looking at you with his hand sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck, small smile playing on his lips.

Min fucking Yoongi.

You force yourself to calm down again as he leans back on the wall next to you and continues, “First time here?”

Despite how supremely distracting he looks at the moment, dressed in tight black jeans and an oversized black t-shirt under a large brown coat, hair matted to his forehead with sweat and long fingers covered in large rings, you manage to say, “Yeah, we're here for Irene’s bachelorette.”

Distantly, you realise that this is the first time that you’ve been alone with him.

“Preparations going well then?”

You shrug, sinking back, what little alcohol that’s left in your system allowing you to loosen up, as you reply, “Well enough.”

He lets out a hum and now there’s quiet around the two of you, the neon sign overhead casting a muted glow and the faint sounds of traffic above mingling with the music behind.

It doesn’t feel awkward. Just...silent. It isn’t comfortable either. It just exists.

“And how's Jungkook?”

You turn your head, looking towards him out of the corner of your eye, confused as you slowly say, “He’s fine. You guys had a meeting today, didn’t you?”

He opens his mouth to reply when the door opens next to you and Hyejin jogs out, wide eyes immediately drawn to you on the side.

“Oh thank god. We’ve been so worried, you just disappeared and we couldn’t find you and the we called Jungkook to find out if you had gone ho-Oh, hello.”

Yoongi shuts his mouth abruptly and raises his arm in greeting.

“We were going to leave because Miya's head’s starting to hurt but we can stay for a while longer if you want?” Hyejin hesitantly asks, eyes locked on yours, as if she’s telepathically trying to understand what you’re doing out here in the dark, hanging out with Min Yoongi, whom you’ve declared as the-boy-who-won't-be-named in your little group over the last couple of weeks.

Hell if you know.

You turn to Yoongi as he gives you a weak ‘Don’t worry about it,’ with a soft, almost-rueful smile, before he waves at you and Hyejin and turns around, walking towards the back entrance from where he came.

Hyejin looks at you worriedly, probably only now noticing your tired face and drooping shoulders.

“Is everything fine?” she quietly asks, placing a comforting palm on your shoulder.

You let out a sigh before you say, “I don’t want to talk about it right now. Let’s just get the others and go home, yeah?”

She gives you a reassuring nod and a soft ‘Chin up, love,’ and with one last nod, the two of you re-enter the pub.

                             ________________________

“You’re moping again.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You’ve been eating that same bowl of cereal for the last ten minutes.”

“It’s good cereal.”

“It’s plain cornflakes. I don’t know why we have it at home in the first place.”

“It was on sale.”

Jungkook huffs in annoyance before snatching the bowl and spoon from your grip and placing it on your side table, ignoring your cries of protest as he whips open the curtains, letting in the sunlight that you so dearly wanted to keep outside.

Shutting the laptop that’s playing dumb cat videos, he moves it out of the way before sitting in its place, not letting you bury yourself under the covers.

After a brief scuffle between you, him and the blanket, that really, you were bound to lose, seeing as how Jungkook’s biceps are the size of your head, he manages to wrench the bedding from your hands, leaving you glaring at him sourly, arms crossed.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” he scoffs, bundling up the blankets and dumping them on the floor, before he turns towards you. “Ever since you came back from that bachelorette party two days ago, you’ve been cooped up in here. It’s time for an intervention.”

You roll your eyes, kicking your legs out petulantly, not reaching anywhere near him. “I don't need any intervening. I’m fine.”

“Have you eaten anything other than cereal? No, scratch that, other than plain fucking cornflakes?”

“I’m trying out a diet,” you cautiously reply.

“Oh, please, we both know you don’t buy into that bullshit. You never shut up about unhealthy eating habits and the harmful effects of diet culture when I’m doing my monthly keto,” he says, fingers in air quotes and expression sceptical.

You let out a huff, annoyed that he saw through you that easily. You and your fat mouth.

At your refusal to engage in further conversation, lips stuck in a pout and stubbornly avoiding his gaze, he lets out an exasperated groan, before he whines, “Come on, Y/N. I’m starting to get worried here. Joon asked me how your cold was during our run today morning. I didn’t even know you had a cold.”

“...I don’t.”

His eyes soften as he leans forward and taps your knee, making you look at him.

“What’s going on?”

You let your gaze flick to the bedroom door.

Noticing, Jungkook cocks his eyebrows up. “Do you really think you’ll make it?”

Letting out a harsh sigh, you slump against the headboard of your bed as you feel the fight leaving your body. Your roommate is a muscly, stubborn little shit and you’re not getting out of this.

He gives you time to collect your thoughts, looking at you expectantly, but not rushing you, now that he knows you won’t try escaping again.

“Min Yoongi.”

He doesn’t look surprised that you open with that, probably expecting him to be the topic of conversation.

“Is that bothering you so much? Last I heard, we weren’t allowed to say his name in a non-work capacity in this house.”

“We aren’t,” you shoot back, with a dirty look.

He raises his hands, palms outward in a pacifying gesture. “Sorry, sorry, please continue.”

“Did you have a meeting with him two days ago?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Then why did he ask me how you were doing?”

Now, Jungkook looks confused.

“Wait, what? When did you talk to him?”

In as few words as possible, you relate your sad, sordid tale and watch as Jungkook’s face flies through five different emotions during your retelling.

He settles at perplexity. His hand comes up to his chin, stroking his non-existent beard.

“I had just met him. And at the studio, he had asked me about...holy shit.”

You’re brought out of your gloom by Jungkook’s slowly widening grin. You can practically see the gears turning in his brain.

“What?” you shortly ask, thoroughly sceptical.

“Okay, don’t freak out when I say this-"

“If you already think that’s a possibility, you probably shouldn’t say it-"

“Yoongi likes you.”

You lean back from him as if you’ve been burnt.

“I’m sorry, what now?”

He leaps off the bed, excitedly beginning to pace around the room, arms waving as he begins to explain, occasionally turning to your disbelieving face.

“Every time when I’m with him, he always asks how you are-"

“He's being polite, you should try it sometime-"

“And Irene was telling me how he asked her if he had done something wrong because you were ignoring him-"

“Stop talking about me behind my back!”

He waves you down as he begins to pace more feverishly and continues, “And he changed that one line to purple frame from pouring rain, I’m thinking because of your glasses-"

“He should probably change it back, that sounds like a horrible decision.”

“That’s it, I connected the dots.”

“Jungkook, you didn’t connect shit.”

Again, disregarding your protests, he continues, “And I’m pretty sure the reason he asked you about me is because he wants to know if we’re dating, but he doesn’t want to seem too obvious about it-"

“Jungkook!”

“Whoa, hey, that’s the thing you’re the most offended about? I’m hurt, Y/N-Oh, fuck.”

He rushes towards your side of the bed on seeing your stricken expression. Your head feels heavy, tears blurring your vision as you watch Jungkook bend down on the floor in front of you, taking your hands in his.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, it’s fine, you don’t have to say anything to him. The wedding will be over in two weeks, I’m almost done with the song, you don’t even have to see him if you don’t want to,” he rapidly says, as he wipes off the single tear that manages to escape.

You force yourself to calm down and take a deep, shaky breath, harshly rubbing your eyes with your free hand.

Quietly, in the pregnant silence of the room, making eye contact with Jungkook for the first time in the entire conversation, you finally, hoarsely utter, “What if I want to see him? What if I want to talk to him? What if I like him so much, my heart almost hurts more when I’m around him than when I’m not?”

He gives you a small smile and a gentle squeeze of your palm.

“Then you’ve got the best wingman right here.”

You hiccup softly at that, feeling drained from all the emotions of the last three days. Jungkook stands up and pulls you along with him, tugging you into a hug that you welcome.

“Thanks,” you softly mutter as you pull away, slightly sniffling and refusing to make eye contact with him, suddenly embarrassed from the events that have transpired.

Noticing your discomfort, he lets you turn away from him and moves to leave the room.

He stops at the door and says, “Why don’t you come down after texting the others, and we can order lunch and watch something trashy? No boy talk,” he says, crossing his heart.

You give him a tiny grin, the most you’ve managed in the last two days, before you reply, “You’re a boy.”

“Not in the romantic way.”

“According to Yoongi, you are.”

“Oh, we’re laughing about that now?”

                              ________________________

Twenty four hours left for the big day and you’d be happy if you never had to hear the word ‘wedding' in your life again. Despite organisation and coordination being your strong suits, nothing could’ve prepared you for the last minute rush.

Really, it’s a miracle that you and the best man, Jackson, haven’t just up-and-away'ed from it all.

You’re at the venue, securing the arch with Hoseok, one of the groomsmen, when Jackson comes jogging into the chapel, phone in hand.

Absurdly, the mental image of a labrador puppy with a tennis ball in their mouth comes to the forefront of your mind.

“The bakery called and Joon asked if you could take it because he and Irene are finalising the speech sequence,” he explains in a single, long breath, holding out Namjoon's phone to you.

Oh.

After your big, emotional reveal with Jungkook that day, you’ve pretty much just been biding your time in the romantic front and resigning yourself to passively letting any and all feelings just happen until you actually meet Yoongi face to face at the wedding. Jungkook’s more than happy to let you be, probably being able to tell how mortified you are after all that uncharacteristic word vomit, and he doesn’t bring anything up. Occasionally, when the two of you are watching television, he'll point at a couple on screen and with a wide grin, he’ll say, “Fighting, Y/N!” and once, he sent you a YouTube link that you assumed was one of his usual Vine compilations but ended up being a video titled ‘5 Ways To Ask Someone Out' but for the most part, he’s been pleasantly bearable.

He did casually let it slip to Yoongi that the two of you were just good friends and roommates and not, in fact, dating. Apparently, Yoongi gave a small smile when he heard, but you don’t know if that’s just Jungkook dramatising and his overactive imagination.

You can manage a phone call, no problem. It’s a toss up between which owner you’ll end up talking to anyway.

Taking the unlocked phone from Jackson, you redial the most recent contact (KSJ Bakery), and move away from the arch as Jackson rushes forward to take your place and Hoseok continues fastening the metal to the wall.

You bite your lip in anticipation as the ring tone hits your ear and very nearly drop the phone when it stops, hearing a decidedly deep, non-Jin voice casually rattle off, “Hey, Namjoon. Thanks for calling back, I just wanted to confirm the pick-up plan for tomorrow.”

Clearing your throat, you hesitantly reply, “Uh, this is Y/N speaking. Joon's a bit busy at the moment, but he’s given me all the details, so I can clear any doubts you might have.”

Silence.

You’re about to let out a tentative ‘Hello?’ when he says, “Oh yeah, no problem. I just wanted to make sure that the cake would be collected before five in the evening.”

Taking the pen out of your pocket, you scrawl ‘Jimin-cake before 5’ on your wrist while balancing the phone between your shoulder and ear, as you reply, “Yeah, somebody should be there before then, no problem.”

“Awesome, I’ll make sure it’s ready to go.”

“Great, thanks.”

“Yeah.”

Once again, silence.

You open your mouth to say something, anything, to get rid of this awful awkwardness (“Bye,” perhaps) but he beats you to the punch by almost delicately asking, “So, uh, how have you been?”

After inaudibly swallowing in nervousness, despite there being no reason for it, he’s just making polite conversation for fuck's sake, you reply in a similar uncertain tone, “I’m good, yeah. And you?”

“Good, good, yeah. Me too,” he hums out, voice tapering out awkwardly at the end.

You see Jackson giving you a questioning look out of the corner of your eye, obviously confused about how weird you’ve suddenly become and you rush to end the call.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow then?” you ask, stuffing your pen back into your pocket and turning away from the half erect arch, mentally punching yourself for making it sound so flirty.

You get an obviously quizzical ‘Huh?’ in response and rapidly say, “At the wedding I meant. I didn’t-I didn’t mean anything else. Of course, not that there’s anything else to mean. Joon’s and Irene’s wedding is obviously what I was referring to. Okay, bye!”

Not waiting for him to reply, you hit the red button as quickly as you can, turning back around as you softly sigh and your insides churn in embarrassment, wanting nothing more than to get away from the offending device as soon as possible.

You’re met by two pairs of wide, surprised eyes as Hoseok and Jackson have completely stopped working on the arch, looking at you instead. Hoseok's eyebrows have nearly disappeared into his messy brown hair and Jackson looks like Christmas has come early.

This won’t do. This won’t do at all.

With a half-assed excuse of returning the phone to Namjoon, refusing to meet their eyes, you scamper out of the room, quick as you can, without making it more painfully awkward than it already is.

                             ________________________

Wedding robes are, in your humble opinion, the single most simultaneously gratuitous and comfortable things, you’ve come to realise. Granted, you had turned your nose up at the concept the first time Irene brought it up, but now that you’re sat on the plush couch next to Irene’s mother at the corner of the bridal suite wearing a beige robe, watching as Irene gets her hair done and Miya helps Hyejin with her makeup, you’re convinced that you’re floating on a cloud.

You’re fairly sure that the reason Irene and Namjoon were able to get these robes without going over budget is that they just hired Miya as the makeup artist and she gave them a discount

The silk rubs soothingly against your skin as you get up and pad towards the front of the room, standing next to Irene’s chair and meeting her nervous eyes in the mirror as the hairdresser sets another curl just so.

“Tense?” you gently enquire, giving her a soft smile.

“Just a bit,” she breathes out, staying very still as the stylist flits around her.

“If you’re in this state, I’d love to see how nervous Joon is,” Miya giggles, evening out Hyejin’s blush.

Irene chuckles and moves her hand off of her lap, letting it fall and grabbing yours loosely. She gives your fingers a squeeze and you squeeze back with a reassuring grin.

“Y/N, you’re next!” Miya calls out, prompting you to walk to her as Hyejin moves towards the rack that has your dresses hanging in the centre of the room, smacking her lips as she smoothens her lipstick.

You obediently stand in front of Miya, tucking your glasses by the frame into the opening of your robe and tilting your neck back so she can apply your eyeliner and lip gloss, hands crossed behind your back.

Her already made up face hovers over yours as she delicately holds your chin in one hand, steadying your head as she runs the gloss over your lips.

She softly mutters, “Are you nervous?”

“About what?” you hum, best as you can without moving your face.

You know about what, of course you know about what.

She fixes you with a knowing look, and your eyes dart away from hers, fixing on Irene’s mother helping Hyejin adjust her dress, but she doesn’t pursue the thread of conversation, doing your eyeliner in silence.

Stepping away from her when she gives you the go ahead and turns to Irene, you move to the rack and collect your dress, turning to enter the attached toilet when your phone rings.

The caller ID reads Jackson Wang, and your mind immediately whirs into worst case scenarios.

Not wanting to alarm Irene in case it really does end up being something serious, you drape your dress on the couch arm and move to the corner of the room, while giving her what you hope is an encouraging thumbs up as she worriedly looks at you.

The first thing Jackson says when you accept the call is, “The florist just called and their truck broke down so one of us has to go get the flowers ourselves."

“Send Hobi,” you immediately say, your mind moving to the last minute problems and solutions chart that you and Jackson had gone over the previous night.

“I did, but then the caterers also called and apparently the appetisers got squished on the way, and they can’t make another batch in time.”

Well. That wasn’t on the chart.

“Uh, okay, then we can go get something from the café down the street. Is Jimin free?”

You hear a harsh sigh from the other end of the line as Jackson replies, “Yeah, but he needs to go get the cake too. I’d go but I don’t think it’s best for me to leave Joon right now, he’s started thinking about why they need a religious ceremony in the first place when he has, and I quote, ‘nothing to prove to God anyway,’ and I’ve only just stopped him from calling the priest.”

“Well, fuck. Tae?” you ask, half-groaning, referring to the third and final groomsman, crossing your fingers in the hope that he might be able to help.

“Needs to be here when the cameraman reaches.”

You look at Miya doing Irene’s makeup and Hyejin in turn fixing Miya's hair, as Irene’s mother unzips the wedding gown from its protective packaging.

Glancing at your own done up face and hair in the mirror and shooting a quick look at the tiny alarm clock on the table, you take a decision.

“I’ll get the cake. Let Jimin do the appetisers.”

“Are you sure? You need to be here for the pre-wedding photoshoot.”

“There’s still an hour to go. If I rush, I’ll be back in time.”

“All right, then. God speed, Y/N, god speed.”

Rolling your eyes at his dramatic farewell, you end the call, morphing your face into as calm an expression as possible before moving towards the others.

“What was that about?” Irene asks warily as she gets up from her seat, hair and makeup fully done.

In as nonchalant a manner as you can, you reply, “Oh, nothing. Just some last minute stuff with the florist, it's all good.”

You grab your dress in what you hope doesn’t look too hurried a manner and step into the toilet, changing in record time. You allow yourself a second to look at your reflection, fixing the strap on your shoulder and giving the fabric a sharp tug at the back so it doesn’t bunch over your ass, before you step back out into the room.

Irene’s climbing into her wedding dress with the help of Hyejin and her mother, and it’s all you can do to not call Jackson and tell him that the cake is mostly unnecessary anyway, so you might as well just not bother.

With a clear of your throat, you say, “I just have to get the cake real quick, so I’ll be going,” and with an apologetic look in response to Irene’s penetrating one, you grab your purse from the table, pull on your flats as fast as you can, and shuffle towards the door, pulling your car keys out.

You throw an ‘I know!’ behind your shoulder in response to Miya's ‘Photoshoot's at 3:20!’ before the door shuts behind you, and you make your way to the car park.

You’ve almost reached the bakery, when you become aware of the possibility that you might meet Yoongi, and you pray that Jin is also there so you won’t have to go through any time-wasting awkwardness.

Maybe it’s because you prayed too hard or because you agree with Namjoon’s philosophy and did the prayer all wrong, but when you enter, you find the bakery empty and quiet. If not for the signboard outside that reads ‘OPEN’, you’d have thought they had closed for the afternoon.

You check the time on your phone.

2:30 PM

Mentally calculating the time you have left to collect the cake and be back at the chapel (45 minutes), you tentatively ask out loud as you move towards the counter, “Hello? Is anybody here?”

You get no answer.

2:32 PM

You really have no time for this. You move behind the counter, hand poised to push open the door behind it, hoping that you’ll find one of the owners, when abruptly, you faintly make out a voice that sounds like Jin.

Inwardly cheering, you’re about to enter the backroom when you hear something that makes you stop in your tracks.

In Yoongi’s deep voice, more frazzled than you’ve ever heard, “I can’t ask her out today! It’s her best friend’s wedding, I’m sure she’s super busy.”

Your breath catches and your palms become clammy. Mentally, you try rationalising that it could be anybody, for self-preservation. Loads of people must be getting married today, and you’re sure you aren’t the only maid of honour who’s been put in charge of the wedding cake.

Behind the door, Jin replies, “You gotta do it soon, I get second hand embarrassment whenever I see you pining. You come back from every session with Jungkook with hearts in your eyes and he’s just her roommate.”

...Jungkook is a fairly common name?

You barely have time to gather your swimming thoughts and rapidly move away from the door, before you hear a low huff and an annoyed grumble of ‘Yeah, yeah, I’ll do it,’ followed by the sound of two pairs of footsteps walking towards you.

You have no time to go back to the customer side of the counter, and trying to look as nonchalant as possible, you pretend to be absorbed in a catalogue that’s kept near the cash register. You hear the door open behind you and turn around, trying to seem as natural as possible.

Keyword being trying. Yoongi looks like a fish, mouth open, eyes widened in surprise. Jin behind him just looks vaguely pleased. You catch sight of your stricken expression in the glass cupboard behind them and mentally punch yourself for looking so obvious.

For a moment, the three of you just stare at each other, nobody moving or saying a word. And then Jin, recovering admirably well, amusedly says, “I didn’t know you could read upside down, Y/N.”

You look down at the pamphlet in your hand and see that ‘Weekend Special!’ is, in fact, upside down.

Face burning, you look back up and stammer, “Uh, yeah, nobody was there and I needed to pick up the cake so I thought I’d just-uh-come behind here and see...,” you trail off awkwardly at the end, refusing to make eye contact with either of them, desperately checking yourself from shuffling from foot to foot like a chastised student at the principal’s office.

Vaguely, you register that Yoongi still hasn’t said a word.

Hurriedly placing the catalogue back on the counter, you scurry to the other side, as a softly chuckling Jin gently shoves a still gaping Yoongi out of the way, and moves to the refrigerator, retrieving a large box from inside.

“The black hatchback parked right outside is yours?”

You shake your head out of your stupor, mind running a mile a minute. Replying to Jin, you say, “Uh, yeah. That one’s mine.”

He walks towards the door, and you know that logically, you should be following.

2:47 PM

Daring to look at Yoongi, you see that he’s shut his mouth, but his expression still resembles your own round-eyed one. Unable to handle the butterflies any longer, you violently throw an arm up, squeak out a swift ‘Bye!’ and spin around, rapidly walking towards the door behind Jin, your dress swirling around your ankles with a whoosh.

Your face is the colour of ripe tomatoes as you unlock the car and open the hatch, only half paying attention to Jin carefully placing the cake box inside.

He straightens up, clapping his hands together in a satisfied motion before turning and looking you dead in the eye.

You definitely aren’t prepared for the words that follow.

“You know, if neither of you do anything, nothing’s going to ever happen.”

And then, like he didn’t just drop that bombshell, he gives you a blinding smile, shakes your limp hand in his, and cheerily saying, “See you at the wedding. Don’t hit the brakes too hard!” he turns around and marches back into the bakery, hands tucked into his pockets, carefree as can be.

You’re in a haze as you move to the driver’s seat, buckling yourself in, head and heart all topsy-turvy.

The blinking digital clock on the dashboard warns 3 PM.

Fuck it.

In a rush, hardly registering what you’re doing, you let go of the seatbelt, not paying attention to the thwack it makes as it hits the side of the car. Throwing the door open and scrambling out, you jog back to the bakery, no doubt looking like a woman possessed.

You push the glass door and briskly walk to where Yoongi’s looking back at you in astonishment from behind the counter, tray full of colourful macaroons in his hands. Your system’s running on pure adrenaline at this point. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jin giving you a thumbs up and a delighted smile, and strolling to the back room, probably to give you guys a little privacy. A suspicious thump follows and you reckon he’s leaned against the other side of the door, ear probably pressed against it. You’d debate ethics, but really, you’re in no position to judge.

“Hey,” you start shortly, once you’ve reached Yoongi, who’s now placed the tray inside the display counter and is looking at you with a bemused expression.

“Hi! Did you leave something behind?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed.

You open your mouth and shut it again. In a rush, you realise what you’ve done. Like a fool, you try getting something coherent out, but all you manage is a weird cross between a tiny cheep and a squawk that sounds like a dying bird, before you clamp your mouth shut again.

From behind the back door, you hear a stifled chuckle.

Fucker.

Yoongi’s looking at you worriedly, as he kindly enquires, “Are you alright? Would you like some water or something?”

“No!” you shout, louder and more panicked than intended, as he turns around to get a bottle from one of the cupboards on the wall.

“No,” you repeat softer, with a nervous giggle that probably doesn’t do a lot to convince him as he turns around, now looking thoroughly bamboozled.

“Um, okay. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

Another chuckle from behind the door.

Ridiculously, in the back of your brain, you can see Jungkook’s dumb grin as he screams, “Fighting, Y/N!”

Well, you’re definitely ready to fight someone.

You take a deep breath in. Shooting a quick prayer to the boss people up there (because that’s always seemed to work so well) and throwing all caution to the wind, you shakily ask, “Do you wanna-wanna maybe get coffee sometime? With me?”

You gauge his reaction, and your heart pretty much swoops as his face clears up and gives way to a wide, gummy smile, however much he tries to stop it from growing. Distantly, you think it makes him look like he’s having a seizure, but an attractive one.

He coughs and clears his throat, attempting to look nonchalant, as he nonetheless enthusiastically replies, “Yeah! Yeah, I’d like that!”

You can feel yourself matching his expression, as a stupid grin fills your face. You’re sure you both resemble right dorks, beaming and blushing like fools at each other, looking pleased as Punch.

Suddenly, a loud shout emerges from the back room as Jin insistently thumps the door. “Just set a time and go, Joon wants to know where Y/N is and what’s taking her so long!”

Flustered, Yoongi looks away, throwing a dirty look behind him as you look at your phone (3:07 PM) and see that you’ve got two missed calls from Irene, one from Hyejin and a grand total of six from Jackson.

With an agitated air, you revert your gaze to Yoongi, who gives you a small laugh as he waves his hand and says, “Go! We can figure it out later.”

You give him an apologetic grin and a cheerful ‘Bye!’ before jogging back out of the bakery, lightheaded.

                                  ________________________

[5:35 PM] Min Yoongi : Good luck. You look nice.

The entirety of the ceremony consists of you torn between paying attention to what’s going on right next to you on the dais and fighting your blush every time you catch Yoongi’s eye in the crowd.

Too busy thinking about his text you had received right before the doors opened, you nearly miss your cue to give Irene the ring.

                                  ________________________

Hours later, at the reception dinner, after the speeches are done, and the guests are dancing, and you can finally breathe, you feel yourself being tugged to the side by Jackson as you step down from the wedding party dais, and into a large, chaotic circle full of Namjoon’s friends. Incidentally, you end up standing right opposite a smiling Yoongi. Next to him, Jin throws you a wink.

Jackson begins introductions and there are ‘Nice to meet you's and ‘It was a beautiful ceremony’s thrown all around.

He finally reaches Yoongi.

“And this is Yoongi - part time bakery owner, part time music producer.”

A grin, a performative hand shake, and a blush from both parties involved, followed by a chuckle. Together, in the same amused voice, with twinkling eyes, the two of you say, “We’ve met.”

~                        

[random-imagines-blog]

All I Need {Colossus x Reader One Shot}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 2494 Summary: After Piotr helps you get out of a humiliating situation, your best friend Beast advises you to come clean with your feelings.

‘You have got to be kidding me’, you thought to yourself. Enclosed in small spaces was uncomfortable under the best circumstances, but being in a cage that was made for a cat? You just hoped that someone back at the school was able to track you despite your animal frame. You walked in a circle, your four black paws balancing carefully on the metal bars that made up all sides of the enclosure. You weren’t the only one in the back of the van - there were a couple of dogs, other cats ... and what smelled like a ferret. The humane society was on a roll today. Normally you would applaud them for getting animals off the streets and trying to find them good homes - but they picked up the wrong cat today. You sniffed at the metal, picking up the scents of all the other scared and alone animals that had been in this cage - and then sat down to accept your fate. Having the power to turn from your normal human self to any animal that you wanted, as long as you had touched it, was amazing. The unfortunate downside was that you always had to turn back into a human before you could shift again.

Hence why you were stuck in this damn cage instead of turning yourself into a mouse or a bird and escaping.

When the van got to the shelter, a large man took  hold of your crate gently and brought you inside. You smelt faint traces of honeysuckle on his hands. A gardener, perhaps, in his spare time. That was kind of cute. As a cat, you did have a good sense of smell, not as much as a dog but less overwhelming than one. You played the part, licking at the man’s fingers and he praised you for being such a ‘pretty kitty’. “I’d adopt you myself if I didn’t already have four of ya,” He sighed. At least you found a friendly animal-catcher, and not a brute like in the movies.

You were transferred over to a woman who started up water in a small bathtub. This was going to be your chance. They were going to let you out for a bath. You leaned forward, shaking your little behind and your tail when -

When she held onto you and didn’t give you a chance to change because you might hurt her. And you would definitely break the tub. So as grumpy as you were, you had to endure getting washed and scrubbed down by a younger woman. And then was the check for mites, for ticks, for fleas, for anything that might be on your body. But you were clean, thank God. You had caught fleas before, and they tried to stick on you, even when you were human again.

And then back into the crate you were, all shiny and ready for people to come looking at you. You paced back and forth, waiting for Hank or for Charles or for anyone really to come looking for you. You would even have put up with Logan if it got you out of here. But an hour later, it turned out so much better than that.

The footsteps were familiar, for you listened for them every dinner at time. They were heavy, in their boots, unmistakable. You ran immediately for the front of the cage, sticking your paws out, trying to get his attention. You waved them in a way that the animal shelter woman found adorable, and cooed over, and recommended you to him. Colossus - otherwise known as Piotr Rasputin; and the man that you had a huge crush on and turned into a wreck around - stopped and crouched down in front of you. You did your best to look into his eyes and scream ‘it’s me, it’s me!’ You even purred, but that wasn’t entirely voluntary.

“Yes, I will take this one,” He said with a nod. The worker was very pleased, and once more, you thought that you were about to get your chance of freedom but she put you into a little carrier bag for Piotr to carry with his shoulder, like a purse. This one was even smaller than the cage, but at least you were able to lay down on the fluffy blanket inside.

Everything was bright when you were brought back out into the sunshine, and then dark as you were put into another van. The backseat this time. Piotr unzipped the bag and you walked out of it, settled on the seat, then turned back into your human self. Usually this meant that you were naked, but thanks to the special suits that Hank had made, it was able to work with your mutation so you were dressed in it as you stretched out to your human form. You stretched out your legs and then your arms.

“We should petition them to make their cages more comfortable. I think Charles would fund it, what do you think?” You asked to Storm, who was driving one of the school vans.

“I think we ought to microchip you,” She said, only somewhat amused. “Like a real pet. How did you end up at an animal shelter again?”

“I thought I was being clever and chasing down a lead,” You mumbled. “I knew I should have turned into a squirrel instead. Or even a cute little chipmunk, it’s the right season.”

“But you went with the cutest black kitty-cat that was going to get all of the attention?” Piotr questioned.

“When you say it like that, it does sound stupid...” You sighed, looking out the window. “You thought I was cute though?”

“All cats are cute,” Piotrr said with a smile. Well, wasn’t that just enough to make your heart melt, and imagine a cat being the flower-girl for your wedding. Oh what a union it would be.

“Next time, don’t get caught. I had lend Piotr a hundred dollars to adopt you,” Storm said, making you look at her in surprise.

“I’m worth a hundred dollars, that’s sweet,” You said with a smile. It was a nice thought, knowing that you were worth some cash. She gave you a look in the rearview mirror that told you she didn’t think that was all that cute. “Alright, I’ll pay you back Ororo, thanks.”

-

“I hear you go caught by the humane society,” Hank said as you entered his lab. You took a seat in one of his chairs, extra large to fit his big, furry frame, and started to spin.

“Yeah, but that’s not the best part,” You said, biting down on your lower lip.

“I don’t know, I’d say that’s pretty funny,” He said, chuckling, pushing his glasses back up onto his face. He was doing something with a microscope. Blood samples, probably. Your blood fascinated him in particular, because when it was taken while you were an animal, it would show as animal blood. Everything, down to your very inner cells, changed.

“Okay, it was a bit hilarious. Though very claustrophobic. We should do some protests about that by the way. It is not fun to be in one of those cages.”

“They weren’t built with human comfort in mind. But go on, please,” He twirled his finger at you, as he peered down at some slides.

“I was a cat, and they didn’t even give me a damn toy. I feel clean though. Anyways - the best part was that our dear Colossus-”

“Your dear Colossus,” Hank corrected but you continued on.

“- said that I was the cutest kitty-cat. I wonder if he meant that. I mean, I know I make a  damn cute cat but I didn’t really think that he was a cat person.”

“Wow. Something you don’t know about him. Shocking,” Hank said, sounding completely sarcastic. You stopped your chair from spinning by putting your foot on the ground, then used it to kick him.

“Don’t make me turn into a bee and sting you. I know you’ve got sensitive skin under all that hair,” You threatened. Hank sighed, looked away from his microscope, and took off his glasses, tossing them on the desk.

“You’ve been like this for over a year now, y/n. Why not just talk to him? What’s the worse that could happen?” He questioned. You tapped your finger against your chin, your mind going through the possibilities.

“Rejection is a pretty bad thing. Oh, and laughter. If he laughs at me, I’m just going to be a penguin in the arctic. It’s going to take a lot of ice to get rid of that burn.”

“Look, you’re torturing yourself. You’re torturing me. I even started to dream of him,” Hank grumbled which made you start to laugh. He didn’t mind that. He was just glad you were able to smile after thinking about rejection. “So just ... go tell him how you feel? And if you chicken out, just turn into the cute cat he likes so much.”

-

You flew back and forth in front of Piotr’s room, turning into a hummingbird because of how fast, yet quiet, it was. You didn’t want him to hear any pacing footsteps as you thought of what you were going to say.

‘Okay, what about ... I thought I’d quit Stalin? No, that’s ridiculous. And probably offensive,’ you thought, flitting back and forth. A couple of other mutants walked past you, looked at the floating bird, then continued on their business. There was enough madness around here without them having to stick their nose in more. ‘Do I just go Russian in? No, no, that’s probably racist.’

Hank walked by, looking at some papers and not paying much attention to where he was going. Not until you flitted by his ear, anyway. He looked around, noticed where he was, then saw you and sighed. “You’re welcome,” He muttered, knocking on Piotr’s door, then rushed away, leaving you awestruck. You had just enough time to turn into your human self before the door opened, and Piotr stood there with only his track pants on, and no shirt. Hubba hubba.

“Hello, y/n,” He said with a smile that reached all the way up to his eyes. It might have something to do with just being a small bird, but you somehow felt very heavy as you stood there.

“H-Hi,” You said, smiling in return. “Do you think that we could maybe talk for a minute? I want to tell you something.”

“Yes, yes, come in,” He said, moving to the side. You took a couple of steps into his room and looked around. You never actually went in it before, though you’ve had the chance to turn into an insect and go through the ducts. He at least deserved his privacy. It smelled like him, you noticed. A bit like a gym. A tinge of sweat, of metal. “What do you need to say?”

You met his eye nervously. His eyebrows were lifted, anticipating whatever news you had for him. You put your hands behind your back, clasping them, trying to hide how sweaty your palms were getting.

“I just wanted to say...” You started, looking away from him. The pressure was mounting. You could feel your heart beating from your stomach. “Uhh.. thanks for picking me up from the animal shelter! Those cages sure were itty bitty.”

“You’re welcome,” Piotr said with a smile. He always made you feel so welcomed - which was why you were kicking yourself for actually saying the words ‘itty bitty’. “Is that all?”

“No, no, there’s something else. Something that I guess I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while.” You bounced on the balls of your feet, and shook out your palms, trying to get the sweat off. You looked up at the ceiling as if trying to find the answer to a difficult test. You really couldn’t look at Piotr. “Okay, so... I think you’re really hot.”

“Hot?” Piotr asked. You could imagine his face, that adorable little confused expression. No, don’t look damnit, that’ll get you even more tongue-tied.

“Oh yeah. You’re definitely a babe. And I might have had a thing for you for a while. And I wasn’t going to tell you about it but Hank told me that I should. I should have known better than to take his advice, I guess. For a scientist, he can be real dumb sometimes. And now we’re never going to work together because you know that. So good afternoon, good evening, goodnight and good life.”

“Wait, wait wait,” Piotr said, blocking the doorway before you could make a motion to move. He put his arm out, making an actual block, with it turning metal so you couldn’t bend it away. “You have a thing for me? A good thing?”

“I mean, I think it feels like a good thing but that doesn’t necessarily mean...” You rambled on. “Can you just let me go? I’m already a prisoner of embarrassment, don’t need to be one of you too.”

“You are not prisoner here, you are always welcome,” Piotr said, standing right in front of you so that you could not avoid looking at him. “I have a thing too.”

“Well, yeah, have you noticed that a lot of us mutants are really attractive? Like Ororo is stunning, and Kitty, and then you got-”

“You talk too much,” He said with a smirk. “I have a thing for you. When you’re you and when you’re cute little kitty-cat.”

“Hmmm,” You said, attempting to play it cool, but you knew your mouth wasn’t going to go along with that plan. “Does that mean you want to go out sometime with me? Not to the animal shelter because if you need cuddles, I’m your kitty-cat.”

Piotr let out a large laugh at that, his hand going to his stomach to hold himself together. “My kitty-cat, huh?”

“I can be an elephant too, we can see how strong you are if I step on you.”

“You wouldn’t do that, you like me too much,” He said, putting his metal arm around you. It wasn’t as heavy as you thought that it would be. He probably wasn’t putting much weight on you. You were a shifter, not a super-strengther. “Is it almost dinner time?”

“Not even close, but I could make us a late lunch?”

“We’ll make a date of it.” Piotr grinned. And there went your heart again, flipping and flopping as if it were shoes on a beach.

[kyloswarstars]

PETRICHOR Peaky Blinders • Oneshot

Bonnie and you. You and Bonnie. It’s perfect. And then it’s all gone. Grieving is a strange, complicated thing to do and you don’t have a single clue on how to survive without him.

Pairing • Bonnie Gold x Shelby!Reader

Words • 5.4k

Warning • some swear words; mentions of death/murder

A/N • i still cry every time watching that scene; for years i wanted to write some Peaky Blinders fanfiction and out of all the ideas i have, this is the one which burned under my fingernails to be written a few days ago. so here we are.

/////

For once, you felt completely and utterly peaceful. It’s been a long time since you last felt that way. The hectic of accomplishing Peaky business and dealing with Tommy’s tantrums had worn you out. For Tommy it may have been Grace’s death to turn him even more away from the man he once used to be. For you it’s been John Boy’s death three years ago – three fucking years ago already – that turned everything upside down. Sure, before that a lot of deaths happened too and scarily disturbing shit you’ve been involved in, including a lot of eyes cut out by razor blades. But when the first of your siblings was killed – and that it would be only a matter of time when the next will be taken away, maybe even you, who knew – it changed something completely. The Shelby’s weren’t invincible. Never were and never will be, no matter how intensely Tommy tried to make everyone believe it. Not even by the order of the Peaky fucking Blinders.

Right now, though, with this cold airstream on this foggy morning, sitting on the steps of this caravan, wrapped up in a blanket – everything felt okay for a short while.

Last night you had been sitting at the bonfire and enjoyed the warming flames like the couple nights before. Lately you spent more and more time out of the city, trying to escape the business and Tommy’s orders.

They didn’t know. You never told them. All this time you spent with him and no one knew. You didn’t want them to know. The chance of them ruining it all was so fucking high, the only way you saw was hiding it from them. You thought, maybe they would start to worry where you were. Maybe. But they didn’t. So, those nights at the bonfire with him belonged to you two. Occasionally accompanied by his family, but mostly it’s been your nights, chatting away, making out for a while and roasting the rabbits or squirrels over the fire you had hunted during the day.

The fire had been burning brightly, dancing up into the night sky and competing with the stars. The booze in your veins had made you dance along with it, circling it like druids performing a summoning, until raindrops started to extinguish the bonfire. For a moment you looked up to the sky, feeling every raindrop slowly touching your face – then the rain changed its mind and rushed down onto you like someone opened a faucet. He had grabbed your hand and ran to the caravan with you.

His laughter still echoed in your ears as you sat on the steps. It was the only sound you heard in this early hours of the day. No birds had woken, no wind was finding its way through grass and leaves yet. Only his laughter in your ears, igniting a warm feeling in your chest and spreading through your whole body.

The smell of the earth was lingering everywhere. It had been the reason why you woke up so early in the first place. It was the best thing ever, how soil decided to send out this beautiful scent after rain had poured on it. The best thing, after him.

He stirred behind you and got out of the bed. His steps were creaking on the caravan’s wooden flooring. Without any words, he sat down behind you and wrapped his arms around your body. 

He rested his chin on your shoulder. „Why are you sitting here, Y/N?“

„Enjoying the woods, Bonnie.“

„How long have you been sitting here?“

You shifted in his arms to meet his eyes. „For a while.“

He tried to pull you even closer to him. Of course he knew what was struggling you. Of course he knew you weren’t only enjoying the woods. The short period of peace slowly faded and made room for the exhausting reality once again.

„I’m sick of it“, you whispered. Back in the day, when the boys came back from war, in your childish mind you thought everything would get better or at least back to normal or to a new normality. It never did. You grew up and with every blink of your eyelids another month passed, full of events that happened at such a fast pace you could hardly understand what was going on most of the times. And then you had met Bonnie and everything stopped for a while. And when the world started to spin again, the speed had slowed down a little. Not much, but enough for you to be able to breathe again.

„I know, my love.“

„Unfortunately, I have to go back“, you mumbled and heard Bonnie sigh. „I need to show my face and get some work done. Can’t stay here forever.“

„You could…“ Bonnie’s warm breath on your neck was giving you shivers. His voice was still raspy from his deep sleep. You loved to wake up next to him. „We could just go away, take the caravan and leave forever, Y/N. Imagine how perfect life would be. Imagine how cute little you’s would be.“

You tried to picture it. Traveling from one place to another with Bonnie, living in the woods and find food in the wilderness. Freezing during winter and warming each other in bed, sweating in the summer and skinny dipping in a lake to cool down. Growing his child in your belly. Giving birth, becoming a family and repeating it over and over again until you two had a whole soccer team. With Bonnie, this idea didn’t feel scary anymore. With Bonnie, everything seemed pretty easy actually. With Bonnie, it always felt like you were running through a field full of wild flowers, brushing against your skin, and making you feel exactly as beautiful as all the blossoms around you.

„Okay“, you agreed, feeling his arms hold onto you even tighter. „I’ll find a way.“ But first you had to go back to sort everything out.

Bonnie hardly ever wanted to let you go. When you got up and tried to get dressed, his hands were all over you and his lips tried to delay your departure. As always, he ‚helped‘ you getting dressed. First, he inspected every piece of clothing, to see if you could really wear it, then delicately put it on you with a lot of fumbling around to expand the time he had with you. The most dangerous part of it all was, when he came to the last piece: the shirt. He made you stretch out your arms over your head and when he pulled it on and the shirt covered your face, he would most likely try to grab and carry you back to the bed. And that is exactly what happened again. You tried to somehow get out of his grip but had to surrender in laughter. He didn’t seem like it at first glance, but he was so incredibly strong, not even the giant Goliath had a chance against him in the end.

„Bonnie, stop it!“ Laughing under his tickle attack, you tried to get your head out of your shirt to see at least what was going on. Instead of accomplishing it on your own, he pulled down your shirt and freed your head. Only to press his lips on yours and make it even harder to want to go back to the city.

„This.“ Kiss. „Is.“ Kiss. „What.“ Kiss. „Will.“ Kiss. „Await.“ Kiss. „You.“ Kinda out of breath, he rested his forehead against yours. He stared down to you, even though in this proximity eyes couldn’t focus anymore. „God, how much I love you, Y/N. Do you even know how much I love you?“

„I don’t know“, you couldn’t suppress your grin, „maybe to the moon and back?“

„No.“ Bonnie’s grin was probably even bigger than yours. „More than that. To every single star in the sky and way beyond what’s in the darkness lurking between them.“

That’s probably the most perfect description of what your love felt for him as well. „I love you, Bonnie.“ Your lips brushed against his briefly. „But I really have to go now. The sooner I go, the sooner I’ll be back and we can go wherever the wind blows us.“

Groaning, he let himself fall next to you on the bed so you could stand up and fix your clothes. 

He stood as well, when you reached for the car keys and pulled on your Peaky cap. It was a quick walk to where you had parked the car – Bonnie wouldn’t let go off your hand. And he didn’t let you close the door for a while when you were sat behind the steering wheel.

The birds still didn’t chirp, nor were any other animals being heard. The silence was still there, still granting you some peace, even though it wasn’t the same as on the steps.

„Don’t take too long, okay?“ One hand on the hood, the other on the door, he leaned down to kiss you once more.

„I won’t. I promise“, you smiled. Starting the car, Bonnie softly closed the door and watched you drive off. You saw him getting smaller in the mirror, didn’t really want to leave him, but you would see him soon again. And when that time came, you wouldn’t leave him again.

/////

Parking the car in front of the house on Watery Lane, you already felt uncomfortable being back in the city. Out in the woods everything was so much more easy. Especially with Bonnie by your side. But, this, and only this, would soon be everything you had to care about. The blue sky above your head and a loving Bonnie, who you would share freedom with.

Isiah was making a beeline for you, the second you entered the building. That can’t mean any good. „What’s it, Isiah?“

„Where the fuck have you been?“

„Language! I’m the fucking boss here“, you snarled, not very seriously. He just rolled his eyes with a little smirk. „What did I miss? Short story, please.“

Shelby’s weren’t supposed to do the dirty work anymore. But someone had to supervise those who did the dirty work for the Shelby’s. When Arthur became Chairman, you gladly inherited the job. You couldn’t stand paperwork or all the other serious business stuff, your work field was more physical.

As a teenager, while the Shelby’s tried to consolidate their position within the betting world, you had been part of the razor gang like your other siblings as well, except for Ada. You hadn’t been treated differently, only because you were a girl. You had grown up with them, with the violence, and to be honest: none of them tried to hold you back from taking your spot within the rows as they did with Finn. You wouldn’t have left them.

You were awaiting a ‚normal' report, but what you got was far from normal.

„Well… Finn got shot for the first time and Michael’s back, got married on a ship, was being held captive and knocked up his lady.“

„Are you kidding me?“ That was already too much drama to comprehend for only being back two minutes.

He shook his head, being dead serious. „Oh and Charlie wants you at the yard. Didn’t say anything else.“

„News from Tommy?“

„No.“

Good. That gave you the opportunity to check on Charlie right away. Leaving the house, you chose to walk over. Maybe it would be the last time to do the stroll, who knew. The dirty alleys of Small Heath and their people had been home for all your life. It would be strange to leave it all behind but an adventure would be waiting for you. Bonnie.

People were greeting you on your way, you returned it with a tap to your cap. To be a Shelby wasn’t always bad. You loved being a Shelby. Sometimes, it could just get a little too much for you. Especially after John died and wasn’t there anymore to defuse tensed situations with his silly jokes. 

„Charlie?“ Entering his yard, no-one was to be seen at first. Your call was answered soon, though. Curly was running up to you, throwing his arms in the air.

„Yes, Y/N. Yes.“ He was smiling. You always enjoyed Curly’s presence and friendship. „Sorry, sorry, not Charlie needs you, I do. Help me, yes?“

„Of course, Curly. What’s the matter?“ Besides being the dirty-work-supervisor, you also spent a lot of time in Charlie’s yard. Helping them with every sort of work they were going after or just hanging out – sometimes with Finn, trying to maintain your bond.

Curly was returning to the shed he came out of, you followed behind. „I just found them. Couldn’t leave them just like that. Have to take care of them, you know?“ There was an old box, lined with hay, which he knelt down in front of. In it were laying a dozen tiny kittens, meowing in an unrhythmic canon. How cute. Curly just could never see an animal in need. He always took care of them. And more than one time, you had helped him with nursing them back to health.

Promising Curly to organise some milk, you left for the Garrison. It never failed to amuse you, that the noise died down for a moment when a Shelby entered the pub. When they realised you didn’t care for their business, they continued with their chats again. Grabbing some bottles of milk from the back, you went to the office and tried to call Tom. You probably wouldn’t return to the Arrow House tonight and spend it at the yard, just wanted to let him know, but he didn’t answer. 

Afternoon and evening was spend trying to feed every kitten some milk. Once you accomplished it and were done with every kitten, the first one cried out for more already. 

At some point you must’ve fallen asleep in the shed. When you woke in the middle of the night and returned to Watery Lane, Finn was sitting in the kitchen. „Why are you not at home?“ ‚At home‘ meaning Arrow House you had been living in with Tommy.

„Tommy called. Sit down with me.“ By his foreign facial expression, you feared they somehow found out you were in love with Bonnie. You hadn’t even told Finn, just to make sure. What if they ruined your plans on going away with him? „I wanted it to be me to tell you because–“

„You know of me and Bonnie?“ For a second you were scared that maybe he didn’t find out and now you just revealed it on accident.

„Of course I do. I’m your twin, Y/N.“

„So did the others find out? How mad are they?“

Finn flicked his cigarette into the fireplace and fully turned towards you. He reached out for your hands and took them both. „I told them but this is not what this is about right now.“ Taking a deep breath, he locked eyes with you. „Bonnie was killed today. He’s dead.“

Slipping from this room, you must’ve fallen through the floor and deep down into the ground. You went somewhere dark, where your body couldn’t breathe anymore, your eyes unable to see and your mouth not able to let out the scream that was building up in your throat.

No. Impossible. „This can’t be right. I was there this morning.“

Finn didn’t answer.

He swallowed and got up, wanted to hug you, but you refused. You got up from the chair, stumbled backwards and crashed into the wall. All you could do was stare at him. You were waiting for him to say that he was wrong and Bonnie wasn’t dead. It didn’t happen. His face didn’t light up, it only got darker.

You had a stare down and kept the distance between you because if he came closer, you might’ve started to cry.

When the front door got opened, your attention was drawn away from Finn to the person coming through it: Tommy. The moment you saw him, everything crashed for you. He wouldn’t have come if Finn’s words weren’t true.

Tommy was wordlessly coming over, seemed as if he had been in a rush to get here, but you stumbled away from him, using the wall as guidance. „No!“

„Y/N–“

„NO! Stay away!“ Your heart was starting to pump blood through your veins at an incredibly high speed, it roared in your ears and made your lungs speed up in sync. Hyperventilating and almost sinking to your knees, you didn’t know what to do. What should you do? What could you do? How could Bonnie be gone if you wanted to get back to him as soon as possible?

„Y/N, let us help you, okay?“

„No!“ Still with your arm stretched out in front of you, to keep them away, your mind was running wild on what the fuck to do. „Where is he?“

„Y/N, you can’t go–“

„Where the fuck is he, Thomas!“ Maybe you were waking up everyone on Watery Lane but you couldn’t control the volume of your voice. 

„Aberama put him in his caravan–“

Rushing past him to get out, you heard him shout and come after you. „You can’t go and see him.“

Fumbling for the keys in your pocket, Tommy was faster. The last thing you remembered was a sting in your neck, then everything went black as if you fell asleep.

/////

You were soon to understand why Tommy had prevented you from seeing Bonnie that night. He had drugged you so you wouldn’t rush out to the woods and find him like that. Not when you just found out he was dead. 

For a whole day you had locked yourself in your old room at Watery Lane. After Tommy told you why and how Bonnie was gone, you couldn’t stand anyone around you without going after their throat, especially Tommy’s. You had just sat on the floor, staring at the wall and tried to understand it but you couldn’t. Not until you saw him. That’s why you told Tommy to go fuck himself, when you finally went downstairs, and drove to the woods you had last seen Bonnie at.

The caravan looked just like you had left it. Climbing the steps, you were scared to open the door.

„Go on in“, you suddenly heard someone speak, startling you. Aberama had appeared from between the trees, holding an axe.

„I’m scared I won’t leave it once I stepped in.“

„You will, Y/N. There’s work we have to do.“ He disappeared again and some thuds were to hear, almost like he was mauling wood.

You opened the door. You stepped in. You found him. And instantly turned your back to him. You started to sob so hard – crying for the first time actually – because looking at him for only a second was devastating. It took some minutes to get in control of the situation and turn to him again.

Bonnie was laying on the bed. Aberama probably didn’t have the strength to clean him yet. He almost didn’t look like himself anymore. Like the handsome, adoring guy with those dark eyes you fell for so hard. The dried blood, brown on his skin, covered all of his face. Eyes were closed. Jaw unnaturally misaligned. A big hole in his head. 

Bonnie was crucified. They had been beating him up and hung his body on a cross. 

Bonnie was shot in the face. Killed merciless. 

Bonnie was a fucking message. To your brother.

„Bonnie, please open your eyes.“ The sobbing started again when you sat down on the bed next to him. His hand still felt the same when you intertwined your fingers with his. The coldness made your crying worse, though. It didn’t stop. You couldn’t and didn’t want to for a while. For a long, long time. Until your body felt completely numb and unable to cry more before you hadn’t refilled it with water. But that didn’t make you leave just like that. Deep down you knew he wouldn’t wake up but you still called his name again and again. You told him to wake up, so you could leave and go wherever you wanted. You wouldn’t waste another day, trying to sort everything out. You didn’t care. All you wanted was him. And he… he was laying there and didn’t wake up.

Following the thuds outside, you found Aberama still slamming an axe to the ground. It wasn’t the ground he was hitting, though. You tripped over your own feet when you realised that the wood to his feet must’ve been the cross. 

„Tommy gave me his word that I’m going to kill that Billy Boy scum.“ He stopped in his motions.

„Tommy’s word is as much worth as that scum,“ you huffed and let yourself drop to the cold ground. You didn’t expect an answer or anything else. The night you were told Bonnie was dead was when you lost any expectations. You just stopped caring. Except for one thing. „When… when do you want–“ Unable to finish your sentence, Aberama stopped once again.

„To burn his damn caravan?“ Throwing the axe to the remnants of the cross, he sat down next to you. „Never did I think I had too. Always thought he would burn mine one day.“ 

Against your assumption your body couldn’t cry anymore tears, it started again. This time leaving out the intense sobbing, though. „Can I help you clean him?“

„I’m not ready.“

„If we wait until we’re ready one day we will never do it, Aberama.“

„You know, Y/N, he was so incredibly happy to have met you. He was my son, so I knew from the moment he came walking up to me, wearing that big grin, that he met someone very special.“ Aberama joined in with the quiet crying. „There was only one thing he wanted more than being the best boxer to ever live.“ Bonnie’s dad placed an arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer to him. „To love you for the rest of his life.“ You totally lost it with his last words, crying your fucking heart out which you were sure would burn with Bonnie in that caravan.

It’s been his sisters that pulled both of you out of your grief. They were bringing water and some fresh cloths.

Cleaning him up, together with his father, was a rather monotonous thing to do. Saying goodbye not so much.

How the fuck were you ever going to say goodbye to him? 

Losing Bonnie was unbearable. In the past two years he had brought you more joy than the nineteen years before you fell in love with him. He had learned you to love someone so deeply, it pained to imagine ever being without him. So you never had. Out of all the people, you never thought his time would be up next. How could you switch places with him? You’re a Shelby, why did they not choose you to send a message with? 

Leaving Bonnie was like stabbing ten knives into your own lungs. You held your breath when you brushed through his hair one last time. Some tears were falling down to his cold skin when you pressed your lips to his temple one last time. The moment you placed down his hand and stood, gathering the strength to turn your back on him, asked for every small amount of willpower left in your body. Your feet didn’t move further than to the door. You didn’t want to go. You knew he wasn’t there anymore, even though he was so close.

„I love you“, you whispered and then let your eyes slip from his face and opened the door. Every step hurt but you pulled through with it. You didn’t know how or who told him but Finn was standing outside when you exited the caravan.

He took your hand and you let him. Being able to hold onto someone was very much needed when Aberama lit fire under the caravan.

And just like a few nights ago, the fire was winding its way up, dancing into the stars. Bonnie’s words were echoing. To every single star in the sky and way beyond what’s in the darkness lurking between them. That’s where the wind was taking him now. Not to another forest with you together how it should’ve been. No. You drove off, saw him getting smaller in the mirror and just like that, he slipped from your grip forever without you even being aware of it.

/////

For months you wished you wouldn’t have been so good with protection. That maybe, somehow, within the last few times you had slept with him, something of him found its way to stick in this world. That he left behind something, someone, of himself. But he didn’t. There was nothing, no little him or you, that would be left of him. He would never live further than this stupid year of ’29.

It was hard. Every day. Since he was gone there hadn’t been one day where it didn’t feel like his absence tore you apart completely.

You quit work, just couldn’t work under Tommy anymore. You didn’t really know anymore if it was justified, if he could’ve prevented it somehow, but for a long time you found him guilty for Bonnie’s death.

The only one of your family you still talked to was Finn. And only then if it was a nonchalant topic. You didn’t want them to know how broken you, Y/N Shelby, were. And you didn’t want to be around while Tommy was working together with the man who killed Bonnie. That just wasn’t an option at all.

Phantasies about killing this Billy Boy were haunting you. Mostly in your daydreams because the nightmares were filled of Bonnie at a cross or Bonnie with no face. Or the worst: Bonnie still alive. When you dreamed of him being alive and woke from the sleep, you didn’t even stand up that day. Had someone told you a few years ago that love could do something like that to a person, to you, you wouldn’t have believed it in eternity.

The only reason you didn’t leave yet, ignoring Tommy’s deal and went after this McCavern’s life: You felt like it was Aberama’s place to take that bastards life. 

For the last months you’ve been staying with Aberama’s family. The only solace you were able to find was with the people that grieved for Bonnie as well. They were beautiful beings, cheering over his life rather than being sorry for losing him. And yes, it helped some, but no, you couldn’t just adept their mentality like that.

When the news came, that the assassination of Oswald Mosley didn’t work, that Aberama was stabbed to death, another time, everything crashed. For a few more days you were able to stay with Aberama’s kids and his sister, then you couldn’t fight the urge to go after McCavern anymore. 

You went away only by horse – Bonnie’s horse. With some blankets and the Peaky cap on your head, you made your way up north to Glasgow. The first three days it was only cold, which was endurable. When snow started to fall, it got harder to continue with your route. You spent the nights curled up in your blankets, trying to shelter from the snow under a big tree. None of it could’ve stopped you, though. Your determination was stronger than the weather. So you kept riding, kept freezing in the nights.

On the seventh day, not far away from Glasgow anymore, everything fell into place suddenly. You heard voices. Something had aligned everything perfectly well for you.

Getting of the horse and tying it to a tree, you snuck your way through the bushes to the street. You had followed it in some distance for a while now.

A car was parked on the side, three men tried to fix a tire. One of them was Jimmy McCavern. You had seen him back at Charlie’s yard from afar. No doubt, it was him. 

You didn’t expect luck would grant you such an opportunity but there it was. Remaining covered in the bushes, you waited for their discussion about the tire to come to an end. For a second you thought they would start throwing punches but then McCavern ordered the two men, he had travelled with, to go and find the next village and steal a new car. They obeyed his orders and started to walk away.

He watched them leave and muttered some slurs you couldn’t understand. You waited. Until at some point he did, what every man did: pee at a tree.

The snow covered the sound of your steps when you moved out from behind the bushes and crossed the road. After imagining his death for such a long time, in so many different scenarios, it surprised you how calm you actually were. Arthur was always so furious. Tommy so cold. John was a miracle. And Finn… he was just not meant for the Peaky business and that was a good thing. To be honest, you expected to be just like Arthur in this very moment but that wasn’t the case. You creeped up on the man who had killed Bonnie and you couldn’t be more calmer. The fact you would be able to close this chapter in a few seconds was astonishingly relaxing.

He just finished up his business, when you pushed him to the snow covered ground and held him there. You quickly removed his gun and threw it behind you. He didn’t have any other weapons on him.

Bonnie’s boxing lessons had made you a lot stronger, so you turned McCavern around to face him. The swearing, which again you didn’t understand even though being way closer this time, stopped. You didn’t know if he knew who you were or if he was surprised you were a woman. You didn’t give a fuck, though.

„Time’s up“, you hissed. Your full body weight held him down and the arm under his chin prevented him from talking. Slowly, you reached out for your head, grabbed the Peaky cap and revealed the razor blades. That’s when his eyes showed some sort of realisation.

„This is for Bonnie.“

/////

You waited for three days. But nothing changed. You didn’t feel better. Right after taking McCavern’s eyes and cutting his throat open, bleeding to death, you fled from the scene back south as fast as possible. One more death, the one death you had longed for in such a long time and it didn’t change a single thing. Bonnie was still gone, vanished from your life without a possibility to ever get him back. And revenge didn’t change a single thing inside of you. The bleak beast was still eating your insides.

You waited for three weeks. But nothing changed. You went to Aunt Pol, didn’t know where to go anymore or what to do. You told her what you had done. She was grieving for Aberama. She wanted you to stay and you decided to do so. But only a couple hours later you heard her phone Tommy that you were here – so you left again. Still with McCavern’s blood on your razor blades.

When the third month came around, something odd happened. You sat on the steps of your own caravan somewhere in the woods all by yourself. Rain must’ve fallen the previous night because the smell of mother nature rose. It wrapped around you like Bonnie’s arms always used to. Like he did on the day he died. Half a year had passed and nothing changed. You felt guilty, you felt left and lost but the scent of soil filling your nose brought some peace to you. The first time ever since Bonnie was gone. 

His laughter still echoed in your ears and his words remained with you, repeating themselves every night before you fell asleep. You knew he wasn’t here anymore but you also knew he would never leave your heart. You wouldn’t let that happen. And that’s when you realised what to do next.