#about the fact that it was winter and is now spring and time is passing and my life has not changed from where it was a year ago | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

merakiui · 2 months

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maybe, i'm afraid.

azul ashengrotto x (female) reader cw: slight angst, nsfw, azul bottles his feelings and is insecure note - happy birthday to my favorite tako in the whole world. <3 may you have wonderful days forever!! // loosely inspired by lovelytheband's "maybe, i'm afraid."

i. spring - dancing in your party dress, you were singing me some frank sinatra as you wept. pull me close enough. it seems like we lost touch, so hold me as the record skips.

“Can you believe we’re gonna be fourth years?!” Kalim exclaims with wide, sparkling eyes. They look like twin garnets set into his face—polished jewels having caught the aquatic illumination from Mostro Lounge’s aquarium. “Time really does fly, huh!”

“Feels like yesterday,” Ruggie agrees around a mouthful of food. His plate is stacked as high as it can possibly get, piled with contrasting flavors. “Pretty crazy to think we’re all gonna be heading off in different directions soon.”

Jade nods. “Our school lives are as fun as they are fleeting.”

An odd quiet falls over the three of them, which is soon broken when Floyd drapes himself over the booth. He leans down to swipe a sliver from Jade’s plate. “Whatcha talkin’ about?”

“Just reminiscing.”

“Ah. S’bout that time, ain’t it? Gettin’ sentimental in the spring.”

“Makes sense. The semester’s ending and people are starting up their internships or going home. Really makes you think…”

Ruggie gazes at the group huddled near the bar. Riddle, Jamil, and a half-awake Silver chat alongside you and Azul. You seem to be in the middle of a riveting story, for your arms gesticulate wildly. Azul looks on with what Ruggie thinks is the most mushy-gushy, ooey-gooey smile he’s ever seen.

“We’re gonna come back in the winter, aren’t we?” Kalim asks, tilting his head.

“Indeed. For the cultural festival.”

“Yeah, that’s right! It’ll be fun to see you guys after so much time apart. Oh, we should all keep in touch! That way it’ll feel like no time has passed at all.”

“Perhaps not for us.” Jade follows Ruggie’s line of sight, landing on one person in particular. “For others, the gap is cavernous.”

“What do you mean, Jade?”

Floyd catches on then. “S’not our fault he’s not sayin’ anything.”

Ruggie shrugs. “It doesn’t concern me.” He pops up from his spot in the booth, grinning. “It’s been great and all, but I’ve gotta get my fill. Wouldn’t be right for a guy to skimp out when it’s Azul hosting.”

Giggling, Floyd waves him off. “You do that, Sharksucker.”

Kalim turns to the twins, brows raised. “You’re talking about Azul?”

“He’s been swept up in Shrimpy ever since. It’s been—how long now?—about two years or something.”

“Oh.” Kalim blinks back at him, slow on the uptake. And then, seconds later, it hits him. “Ohhh! He likes (Name)!”

“There ya go.”

“I’m afraid he’s yet to confess,” Jade adds around a bite of cake. “You should see the plans he’s drafted. Dozens of them, in fact. Each one is… Oh, perhaps I’ve said too much already.”

“I don’t get it. If he likes (Name) so much, why wouldn’t he just confess? Why make plans?”

“Wow, Sea Otter, you don’t play when it comes to feelings, do ya?”

“If it was me, I’d want everyone to know how much I care about someone.” To demonstrate this point, he cups his hands around his mouth and shouts, “You’re the best, (Name)!”

You glance past a now wide-awake Silver at the twins and Kalim. Mirroring his actions, you reply in a giggly voice, “Thanks! You’re great, too, Kalim!”

Beaming, he says, “See? It’s not so difficult. If Azul needs any help, I’d be happy to—”

Floyd throws his head back and cackles like a madman. “Not so difficult for you!”

Jade masks his amusement behind a gloved fist. “My, my. I think I’ve just witnessed the very soul drain from Azul’s eyes. You have quite the talent, Kalim.”

Kalim doesn’t hear the underlying meaning or the backhanded barb in his statement. “He’s got time, doesn’t he?”

“That’s what he keeps saying. But deep down he knows.” Floyd watches Azul hurry to recover his composure before anyone can notice. “He’s leaving for his internship after school’s over and then graduation’s next spring. He’s running out of time.”

“Does (Name) like him? Maybe she’ll confess before he does!”

“That’s just it. He doesn’t know what Shrimpy feels for him. Been driving himself crazy all school year tryin’ to figure that one out.”

“I suspect he’s grown excessively cautious as a result of his fear of rejection,” Jade explains, dragging his fork through the buttercream smeared on his plate.

“But if he confesses now and she doesn’t feel the same, he’ll have all summer to recover.” Kalim turns his stare on you next. “(Name)’s always been nice. I’m sure she wouldn’t shatter his heart.”

“When you’re Azul, even the tiniest push is enough.”

“Really? But he’s always so strong!”

Jade hums. “Three hearts are quite the boon-burden.”

“Only makes lovin’ someone that much worse. Cuz then you’re lovin’ ’em three times as much.”

“Isn’t that good? I think it’s sweet Azul cares about (Name) so much.”

“Sweet…” Jade shares a look with Floyd. Something unspoken passes between them. “Yes, I suppose that’s one way to put it.”

“Azul thinks it’s a pain in the ass. Throws him off his course and he loooves bein’ on his course.”

Kalim stares a moment longer. “Maybe he needs a push in the right direction.”

“Liquid courage works wonders—”

“—or gives way to woe.”

“Nothing like that.” He doesn’t elaborate further, instead getting up and padding over to the bar with a cheerful bounce in his steps. “Hey, everyone, let’s take a picture!”

Riddle welcomes him with a warm smile. “Ah, hello there, Kalim.”

“You seem to be enjoying yourself,” Jamil comments, arms folding across his chest. Which, arguably, is worse because it can only spell trouble should Kalim find himself inspired.

“Way ahead of you!” You hold your Ghost Camera up, turning the lens on Kalim. Lighting up like the very sun in the sky, he poses just as you snap a photo. It takes a few moments for it to develop, but once it does you hand it over to him for his perusal. “Looking good as always.”

“Aww, thanks! Okay, your turn next! Let’s get a big group photo and then individual photos.” With the camera now in his possession, Kalim’s free to fidget with it as he pleases. “Ooh, this is neat!”

“Careful with that!” Jamil bounds forward just in case. “The Headmage gave that to (Name). Don’t break it.”

“I won’t,” Kalim promises, holding it up to capture you and Jamil in its sight. “I think I’ve got it! Everyone, group up! Picture time!”

There’s lots of fumbling. An argument about height breaks out. Floyd pokes fun at Riddle for having to stand in front to account for his height. Riddle fumes, red with anger, and stomps his foot indignantly—all while insisting he’s still growing. You offer to stand beside him, but he hisses at you like a cat: “Don’t patronize me! I’m of perfect, healthy stature for someone my age!”

Kalim looks on from behind the camera. “Actually, can we get (Name) and Azul together first?”

Azul, who had been in the process of adding to the joke with a comment of his own, hesitates. He peers at Kalim, his walls rising. “Me?”

“Yeah! Only fair to put you front and center. You’re the host, after all!”

“Ah, right. Of course. But then—”

“Why me?” you ask, confused. “If anything, I should stay out of the picture. I’m not a third year like the rest of you.”

Kalim gasps, scandalized. “We can’t do that! It doesn’t matter what year you are. You’re still our friend, and parties are for everyone to enjoy.”

“Doesn’t that throw off the original plan?” Ruggie wonders, munching on a frosted donut.

“Kalim, we need to account for height. Riddle can’t stand in the back.” Jamil glances apologetically at Riddle. “That’s just the reality of it.”

Riddle huffs, refusing to dignify that with a response.

“I’ll stand in the front,” Silver offers.

“What? No, that’s not the issue here, Silver.”

“It’s not? I thought we were picking who stands beside (Name).”

“Ooh, I wanna stand with Shrimpy!” Floyd wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your head. “C’mon, Sea Otter, take our pic!”

Jamil sighs. “All of you…”

“Shall we take individual photos with (Name) first?” Jade suggests, smiling placidly at Kalim.

This time the message is received loud and clear. “Oh, great idea, Jade! Azul and (Name), could you stand next to each other?”

The group disperses to allow you and Azul to do just that. Rigidly, Azul steps closer. He keeps a healthy distance between your bodies, one Jade picks up on right away.

“Please smile and pretend like you love each other,” he instructs, to which Azul flusters.

“W-What? Jade, that’s—”

“C’mere, Ashengrotto! I don’t bite!”

With a joyous laugh, you wrap your arm around Azul’s waist and drag him in close. He stumbles, flushed in the face, just as the camera flashes. The corresponding photo slides out next, blank for a while. Eventually, the image begins to show up with striking clarity.

“How’s it look? Great, right?” As soon as it happened, it’s gone—your warmth. The comfort of being held. Azul almost pursues you when you release him from your grasp and move towards Kalim to inspect the photo. Thankfully, he catches himself. “Hey, this is nice! Good job.”

You and Kalim share a high-five.

“Me next, Sea Otter!” Floyd crowds in, baring his pointed teeth in an unruly grin.

With everyone’s attention on you, Kalim, and the camera, Azul’s left to stand behind in silence. Anticipating the rainless deluge, Jade lingers within earshot.

“I know,” he mutters in a brittle tone. “Don’t say a word.”

“Not a peep. Although if I may share just a tiny tidbit… Kalim offered some very helpful advice. You may want to hear it.”

Azul stares at him, stunned. “You told Kalim?”

“Not directly, no. It was implied.” Jade averts his mismatched eyes on purpose. “More or less.”

“I should’ve made you and Floyd sign NDAs…”

“Is it really so sensitive?”

“Yes! Yes, of course it is!” Azul deflates with a sigh, looking on mournfully. You’re trying to snatch the camera from Floyd’s hands. He holds it up and out of reach, laughing raucously. “What did he say?”

“If you confess now, you’ll have the entire summer to mend your tattered heart.”

Azul barks out a short, hollow laugh. “In an ideal world, that’s easy.”

“You’re making it more difficult than it needs to be.” Jade issues an encouraging smile. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

“Are you seriously asking that?”

“It’s just something to consider.”

A minute ticks between them. Jade watches the scene alongside Azul, delighting in distant chaos.

“I’m afraid, Jade,” he admits quietly, the confession as soft and fragile as a single breath. “She’s everything and I’m…nothing.”

Jade frowns in disagreement.

“I’ve looked at it from every conceivable angle. There isn’t any calculated risk to be made—no potential profit or success to be had.”

“Are you certain?”

“Very.”

“Well, it doesn’t hurt to get it off your chest. We have a few weeks left before the break. If not your heart, perhaps you could establish a means to communicate?”

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt… For the sake of networking—”

Jade chuckles. “Networking? Is that it?”

Azul scowls. “You’re awfully irritating tonight.”

“I’m not the one with his tentacles tied, hopelessly infatuated.”

“You—”

“(Name), there’s something Azul would like to tell you,” Jade announces, and you turn to look at him.

Azul thinks he should just go ahead and die right there. Is it possible to spontaneously combust if he thinks about it long enough? Is such a phenomenon magic? All he needs to do is visualize it and then the spark will catch and—

“Yeah? What’s up, Azul?”

Azul flounders, his concentration broken. Like he’s done so many times in the past, he plasters his trademark smirk-grin on and falls into the shoes of the sleazy conman. “If you ever find yourself in need of study materials even after I’ve graduated, do not hesitate to contact me and I—”

You laugh. “I think I’ll be good. Thanks, though.”

With withering confidence, he chuckles. “I could give you quite the deal. You’d be missing out…”

You roll your eyes, unconvinced.

Jade—annoying, asshole Jade—brushes past, smooth as sea glass. “I shall take my leave, but please continue your chat. I believe there’s a camera waiting to capture the memory of me.”

Now it’s just you and Azul. He clears his throat, suddenly awkward.

“(Name), I—”

“Azul—”

“Oh.” He stares at you, a smile twitching on his lips. “You first.”

“No, no, you spoke before me.”

“Ah. Well…”

If you confess now, you’ll have the entire summer to mend your tattered heart. As if a love that’s been flowering for two years could possibly be resolved within the span of a few months.

He tries again even though it’s not what he really wants to say. “I do hope you’ll have a pleasant summer.”

“You as well.” You nudge him. “Kick ass at your internship.”

“I intend to.” Right. Internship. Work. Business. He can hold a normal conversation if that’s the topic. “And you? Do you plan to stay here?”

“Yeah. Crowley’s letting Grim and me live on campus since we don’t have anywhere else to go. I’ll work part-time in Craneport. Summer is a great season for tourism, but I shouldn’t have to tell you that.”

Azul laughs. “If it’s a family, they may spend more on kid’s menus for the novelty of it all. Be sure to talk it up to truly sell it. All children deserve to know the magic of a seasonal menu, do they not? Food in fun shapes. Fairy tales and sparkles. All of that razzmatazz. It’s the experience they’re paying for, after all.”

“Is that advice free?”

“Is it?”

“Fine, fine.” You dig through your pocket and hand him the photo from earlier. “Your payment, good sir. A memento of me.”

Azul takes it from you, admires your effortlessly pretty smile, and then freezes. “Oh, I look positively dreadful!”

“Not at all. It adds character.”

“A horrid sort of character.”

You sidle up beside him, peering at the picture. “I like it. It’s a photo of an imperfect Azul.”

“What an ambiguous compliment.”

“I’m serious! It’s Azul when he’s not acting. I like imperfect Azul. He’s authentic. A real person.” You pat him on the shoulder. He stiffens, betraying his initial nonchalance. “Or maybe not. One day I’ll catch you off guard.”

“We’ll see.”

“One day…” Your attention is stolen when you catch sight of the group attempting to bunch together for a selfie. Offering Azul that same smile he’s admired ever since he saw it, you add, “Have a fun summer. Don’t be a stranger next year, okay?” And then you’re bounding across the lounge. “Wait for me! I want in, too!”

For the rest of the semester, Azul keeps the photo tucked away in his phone case.

I have time to mull over the pros and cons, he tells himself when he departs through the mirror, summer break at his fingertips.

ii. summer - maybe i’m just too good. maybe i’ll run away. maybe i’m over you. maybe i shouldn’t stay. maybe i just don’t care. maybe i talk too much.

It occurs to you, while sorting through the photos you’ve taken throughout this past school year, that there’s an absurd amount of Azul. Whether on his own or with others, he appears in more photos than anyone else. You wonder how that happened—how you managed to be there for so many of his moments, each one documented in photographic permanence.

Some of them are humorous. Azul looking unimpressed when you lifted your camera to capture him. Grim jumping into his arms to demand snacks. His glasses sitting crooked on his face. Some of them are endearing. Azul reading in a comfortable nook in the library. Azul smiling fondly at the lens during an alchemy lesson. Azul laughing after you cracked a joke during PE. Some of them are animated. Azul waving at you from across the courtyard. Azul rolling his eyes at a dull pun. Azul playfully blowing a kiss to the camera after you told him to do something memorable. Some are special. Azul in his birthday robes. Azul during that time Mostro Lounge became a butler café for one week. Azul on his last day of the semester, leveling the camera with a roguish smirk.

This one—the most recent and last photo taken of him—is especially important. It’s the conversation that prompted an unforgettable expression that fills you with butterflies whenever you recall it.

“I think you’ll miss me,” you told him, elbowing him for good measure.

“I think I will,” he replied, his lips curling.

Unequipped to deliver a witty retort, you could only gawk.

“Don’t tell me that’s all it takes to shock you into silence.” He chuckled, and there was that infamous smirk-grin—sitting so perfectly on his face, as if it was meant to be there for this very exchange. “You’re too easy, (Name). Where’s the challenge?”

Wordlessly, you raised your Ghost Camera and snapped his picture.

There are so many facets to his person that you’ve managed to catch on your camera—complex layers you wouldn’t have otherwise witnessed if you hadn’t spent so much time around him.

Now you realize why you have an abundance of Azul photos.

We sure hung out a lot this year, and every time I had my camera…

Is he your muse? Is he just naturally photogenic? He fits into plenty of backgrounds, but it’s never the scenery that fascinates and bewitches. It’s always his expression, his body language, his emotions. And the reason all of these photos are so important is because this is an Azul who is comfortable enough to show these sides to you. An Azul who wants you to document his best and his worst, his beautiful and his ugly, his silly and his serious.

Sitting at your desk, thumbing through stacks of photos, you know he’s more than a muse. As you watch Azul move in various pictures, you wonder what he’s doing. It’s only a month into summer, but everything feels so slow. Campus has cleared out, and with it the lounge has closed for the season. You’re certain he still has his ways of making profit and spreading word of its wonders. Azul isn’t foolish. He’s always working an angle. Endlessly clever and stubbornly ambitious.

Does he miss me, too? you think, running your finger over his smiling face. Or was that just something he said to get a reaction?

Just then, a gut-wrenching thought lodges itself deep: Are we even friends? What if he thinks I’m a nuisance? Maybe he’s just tolerating me and all this time I’ve been delusional.

You glimpse the photos again, watching Azul laugh soundlessly in an animated loop. What am I to you, Azul?

As if on cue, having sensed your sadness, arms wrap around you from behind. For a second you think it’s Grim, but then you see distinctly human hands clasping together. You whirl, startled out of your skin, to find Azul Ashengrotto standing there.

“Wha… What?”

He’s…here. Azul is standing in your bedroom.

You blink once and he remains. You blink twice and he’s still there, gazing down at you with soft, smiling features.

“Hello to you as well.”

“Hey…?” You pat his cheek and flinch away. “Oh, you’re real!”

“Of course I am! Why wouldn’t I be?” Chuckling, he withdraws and moves to stand at your deskside. “I’m wounded. To think you would forget me just like that. And I thought I was plenty memorable.” He blows you a mock kiss then, and that’s when it finally strikes you.

This isn’t your Azul. This is an Azul from your photos.

How is this even possible? you think, scrambling to find which picture—which memory—he’s from. In doing so, you remember a particularly unique fact about the Ghost Camera. It’s a magical device that allows a photographer to capture slivers of their subject’s soul, which gives way to a special sort of connection known as a soulbond. The deeper the bond, the more likely the person in the photographs is to take on animation and, in some cases, slip out of the image that contains them.

So this is Azul from the time at which he was last photographed, you determine, holding up pictures to match his corporeal likeness to that of the scenery. The Ghost Camera is so cool…

“I missed you, you know.”

“Did you now?” He leans in close, curious. “How much?”

You push him away with a weak scoff. This isn’t good for your heart. Any closer and you might say something you’ll come to regret.

“Not as much as you think.”

“Is that so?” His gaze pans over to the pile of photos on your desk. “And these photos are simply here for convenience?”

“D-Don’t worry about it! Summer project. You wouldn’t get it.”

He flashes his teeth at you in a bright, competitive grin. “Try me.”

“You’re so nosy. Don’t you get tired of prying?”

“Not in the slightest.” He leans against the desk, his arms folding casually over his chest. “That’s besides the point. You’re avoiding the subject at hand.”

You turn in your chair and open your mouth to reply—why are you so invested in this?—but a better idea crops up. Meeting his cerulean stare with fierce, fiery eyes, you challenge him: “If it matters so much to you, I could be convinced to share my plans for the small price of one kiss. A real kiss. Not that fake one from before.”

Azul blinks back at you, a smirk crawling onto his face. “Is that all you desire?”

“What do you mean by—”

Your question is cut off when another set of arms embraces you from behind. Warm, soft lips press against your cheek; his breath tickles your ear.

“Are two not better than one?”

With a yelp, you jerk back so fast that you almost fall out of your chair. Standing there, looking very proud of himself, is another Azul. But this one, unlike Dorm Azul, is dressed in his school uniform. A very helpful distinction.

“D-Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

It’s the only coherent sentence you can manage. Your mind is a panicked muddle: I can’t believe it. Two Azuls. Am I dreaming? This is definitely a dream, right? There’s no way he’d kiss me on the…

You slap your hand over your cheek, gasping. “Y-You kissed me?!”

“Is that not the price you wanted me to pay?” School Azul asks, one brow raised as if daring you to deny that fact.

Dorm Azul’s fingers curl under your chin, guiding your gaze towards him. “Unless you’d like to raise the price…”

You swallow thickly. This can’t be happening.

“Of course, in raising the price, it’s expected you raise the value of the information you’re willing to divulge,” School Azul adds with a chuckle. “Is that not fair?”

You shrink under both of their insistent stares. “W-Why do you even wanna know?”

“Why not? Any information is good information so long as it’s useful.”

You scoff, but it comes out choked and shy. “I… I’m going to use these photos to put together a present for you. I know your birthday’s so far away, but I’m getting a head start.”

“And this present would entail…?”

You click your tongue at him. “I already paid my half for that kiss. No more.”

“Aah, is that right?” Dorm Azul leans in, kissing dangerously close to your lips. You reach up to touch the corner of your mouth after he’s pulled away. “How much for the full story?”

“How much are you willing to pay?”

School Azul rests his chin on your shoulder. His hands settle on your waist, pulling you up from your seat. This proximity allows you to feel his hair as it brushes against your face. Dorm Azul closes the distance as if it’s second nature, and now you’re sandwiched between the both of them.

Your heart stumbles in your chest. He’s quite literally surrounding you, but you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

“A very valid question.” Dorm Azul glances coyly at School Azul. “What do you think, Me?”

“Will we be enough for you, (Name)?” he purrs, rubbing slow circles into your hips.

You’re dizzy in their arms, your entire body warming with anticipation and embarrassment alike. Is it okay to be selfish? Even though this isn’t technically Azul—just mere memories of him—it seems so real. He’s holding you, touching you, reaching for you…

“Hmm. Two does seem to be a bit much.”

“Let’s call it a holiday and say it’s seasonal spoiling.”

“A gift for the summer.”

“Do open the window to let in the breeze. The heat is prone to making one feel rather…stuffy.”

They’re doing this on purpose. Maybe another Azul is more troublesome than I once thought. I can only handle so much charm!

Shrugging off self-doubt, you grab Dorm Azul by his lapels and yank him towards you, sealing the space that once separated your mouths in a hungry kiss. He melts against you, eyes fluttering shut. It’s quick and starved, the way you chase each other’s lips. You cling to him before you can fall, arms looped around his neck to keep him near.

Fully clothed and achingly desperate, you loathe the unbearable heat, but nothing is more molten than the space between your thighs.

Meanwhile, School Azul takes his sweet time running his hands along your sides, up the length of your body until he reaches your chest. With his form pinned to yours, you can feel his erection pressing against your ass. Rather shamelessly, he rolls his hips. You’re pushed up against Dorm Azul next, who takes hold of your hand and guides it to the strain in his slacks. He pulls away briefly to allow School Azul to slide your shirt up and over your head.

“Were you anticipating this?” he whispers, taking hold of your breasts.

“No way,” you protest between kisses. “Not… No. K-Keep dreaming. It’s too much trouble to wear one in the summer. Gets hot and—”

Dorm Azul captures your lips in another ravenous smooch, and the objection dies in your throat.

“There’s no need for these pesky articles where I’m from,” School Azul murmurs. He presses kisses into your bare shoulder, humming his very obvious delight. “You’d have already been laid out beneath me if that were the case… Soft and sweet, all mine to love at the bottom of the sea…”

“Humans have so many steps,” Dorm Azul laments, tutting.

“And merfolk don’t?” You try to sound smart with your question, but it comes out breathless when your nipple’s twisted between two fingers. “Oh…”

“Not when it comes to clothing. The very concept doesn’t exist beneath the waves.”

“You could visit sometime and see for yourself. I’ll welcome you with open arms.” Dorm Azul rests his forehead against yours. “And maybe then you’ll find yourself so taken with my home that you’ll want to stay.”

“A tempting offer.”

“But?” he prompts, his gaze falling to your hand as you palm him through his pants. He inhales a shaky breath.

“What’s stopping you?” the other Azul asks, his voice muffled in your skin.

“Firstly, I’m not a mer.”

“My dear, that’s nothing. Have you forgotten my proficiency in potionology?”

“And how much will one of your potions cost? I’d love to visit, but if it’s going to bankrupt me—”

“For you, a single kiss is all I require.”

“Isn’t that awfully cheap?”

Dorm Azul chuckles at this back-and-forth. “You say that as if you want me to charge an exorbitant amount.”

Glaring, you squeeze him out of revenge. His laughter comes out choked next, replaced with a needy whimper. Unbelievable.

“Maybe I do.”

“I would be careful with those words, dearest. I might take them to heart.”

He ruts against your hand, panting into your mouth. The kiss is sloppy and wet, all tongue and saliva. You move on instinct, grabbing at his shoulders when you’re taken to bed next. Both Azuls peer down at you from where they kneel on either side of you. They issue you hazy, lust-drunk smiles. Hands wander, feeling every inch you have to offer. You shut your eyes and submit to titillating touches.

“You really did miss me,” School Azul remarks when his fingers slip into your shorts to rub you through your sodden panties. Your breath hitches, a strangled whine squeezed from your throat, and he laughs. “I missed you, too.”

“I really like you,” you blurt, chest heaving with your every breath. He squeezes your clit to draw another sinful groan from you. “I think—Azul, you’re so—I think you’re so amazing… I wish we talked more. The year—aah… It went by so fast.”

“It did, didn’t it?”

“I wanna know you—the real you. I wanna know what Azul’s like when he’s comfortable and when he’s sad and when he’s happy. I wanna—ooh! Please… Please, Azul…” You grab fistfuls of the sheets, arching up towards the hands that caress your stomach lovingly. “I just want you.”

“And you’ll have me,” he—you’re not sure which—promises, leaning over to kiss you. It’s soulful passion, lust bleeding into love. Your cries are lost on his lips when you come undone beneath him, buoyant on a mellow wave.

You sense the loss before you see it.

Half-nude and gasping for breath, you stare up at the ceiling. Your bedroom is empty. All that remains of the Azuls are the animated memories imprinted on the photographs.

“I’m losing my mind…” you mutter, draping your arm over your eyes.

Please let summer pass quickly.

iii. winter - maybe all we are is fools with hearts that tried too hard. and maybe that’s just fine as long as you’re here in my arms.

Azul paces restlessly in his VIP room. It’s been months since he’s seen you, but his heart hasn’t swayed in the slightest. If anything, he’s only grown fonder in the time spent apart. Absence… What a bothersome thing.

“You’re gonna walk yourself into the floor, y’know. Your shoes’ll be all worn out by the time you’re done.”

“I’m aware,” Azul quips, uncharacteristically jittery. He turns towards Floyd. “Do I look presentable? Is anything crooked or misplaced? How about my hair?”

“You’re fine.” At Azul’s disbelieving glower, Floyd pouts. “I mean it. Shrimpy’s gonna like it either way.”

He bristles, defensive. “Who said anything about (Name)?”

“No one, but you’re thinkin’ it.”

“I… T-That’s besides the point! It doesn’t matter. She’s only here because I invited her. Common courtesy and all that.”

“Mm, I dunno about that one.”

Azul frowns at the vault set into the wall behind his desk. If only he could pack all of his fears in there and lock them away for good. Then he could continue masquerading as someone fearless and confident. With winter having descended upon campus, bringing with it layers of fluffy, glittering snow, and the cultural festival having concluded successfully, Azul finds himself lost.

This is the last birthday he’ll celebrate at Night Raven College and, subsequently, the last February he’ll spend with you. He’s running out of time.

“Invitation or not, Shrimpy’ll always wish you a happy birthday. S’not like her to forget. Plus, she cares about ya.”

“You can’t be sure of that.”

Azul’s tone is so sharp that Floyd raises his hands in defense. “Guess not.”

“What would you do?” He inhales a wobbly breath. “If you were in my shoes…”

Floyd scratches the back of his neck, contemplative. “Dunno. Guess I’d wait for the right moment and say somethin’ to get it outta my system.”

Azul sighs. “Jade said something similar.”

“He ain’t wrong.”

“I’m not prepared.”

“No one is.” Floyd smiles at Azul’s baffled expression. “C’mon, Azul, you can plan all you want, but you know life’s never gonna go the way you want it to. S’just how it is.”

“Even so, it’s better to know all viable routes and options before diving into uncharted waters.”

“That’s just it. You can’t know. S’kinda the whole point, ain’t it?”

“I can’t do it,” he decides, the words heavy on his tongue. “I’d rather accept my future failure now than continue working towards it.”

“Like a coward.”

“Far from it! In business, that’s known as rescission. It is a completely valid method of—”

“You ever realize your feelings and business are two separate things? Not everything’s gotta be about business.”

Azul stands there, nonplussed.

Floyd makes for the door, stopping only to add, “Your fly’s unzipped, by the way.”

“You—” He scrambles to check. Much to his relief, it’s not. “Honestly… That’s not even funny.”

He smooths nonexistent wrinkles, schools his expression into something brave, and exhales slowly. I’m not going to ruin an occasion as grand as this with a half-baked confession.

Having made up his mind, he steps through the door out into the bustling lounge. Like clockwork, all eyes turn to him. He searches the crowd for you, hopeful. But before he can locate you, party poppers resound with a loud bang. Confetti trickles down like colorful rainfall, landing on his suit and getting stuck in his hair.

“Happy birthday, Azul!”

He wants to run and hide. He wants to dive into the sea and seek solace in his favorite octopus pot. He wants to bury himself in the sand and disappear.

Instead, he smiles and spreads his arms like he’s just pulled off an astounding magic trick. “Why, thank you, everyone! I’m pleased you could make it. Do enjoy yourselves to the fullest tonight.”

Cheers erupt amongst the partygoers, but they might as well be on a completely different island. Azul turns, hoping to make his rounds and escape, but Kalim intercepts him. Jamil isn’t far behind.

“Azul, happy birthday!” Kalim smiles just as Jamil catches up.

He passes two expertly wrapped gifts into Azul’s empty hands. “On behalf of Kalim and myself, thank you for the invitation.”

“Yeah, super thanks! It’s been so much fun. I hope you’ll like your gift, but if you don’t just let me know and I’ll get you something else. Whatever you want! You deserve it on your special day.”

Azul looks past him, not in the mood to entertain. “Yes, of course. It’s not a problem.”

Jamil raises a brow, but then it clicks. “(Name) wanted me to pass on her regards.”

As expected, that draws his attention. “Why’s that?”

“She wasn’t sure if she’d get to see you on your big, busy day.” Jamil eyes Azul knowingly.

Kalim nods. “We ran into her on the way here, but she said to go on without her.”

Azul doesn’t like the way they’re both looking at him—as if they’re in on some joke he’s not currently aware of.

“Well,” he says, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “her regards are well-received.”

“You’re not going to meet her?”

“It’s my big, busy day, isn’t it? I’m afraid she’ll have to catch me at her earliest convenience.” Azul, gifts in hand, smiles. “Please do enjoy the party, you two. Thank you again for your thoughtful gifts and birthday wishes.”

On his way to the table designed for gifts, Azul spots Riddle, Silver, and Ruggie. They stand off to the side, chatting amongst themselves. He supposes, if anything, he might as well say hello. Setting the gifts down, Azul struts over.

“Good evening, gentlemen. I do hope you’re enjoying yourselves.”

“You know it. Parties at Octavinelle are always somethin’ else,” Ruggie says. Unsurprisingly, he’s done well to fix himself a plate and more. With him around Azul doesn’t have to fret over food waste.

“Your presentation at the cultural festival was very informative, if I may say so,” Riddle commends, sipping his fizzy beverage.

“As was yours.” Azul’s smile tightens. For some reason, he’s always felt the need to walk on eggshells around Riddle. And for good reason, too! Whatever Azul seems to accomplish, no matter how lofty a feat, Riddle seems to do better. “I’m sure you’ve had quite the rewarding experience yourself.”

“Indeed.”

“It’s good timing,” Silver notes, and all eyes drift towards him. Azul perks up. Timing. He needs more of that. “Your birthday came right after the festival. It’s almost like celebrating your hard work and another healthy year all in one.”

“Never thought about it that way. Guess it makes sense when you put it like that.” Ruggie grins cheekily. “Lucky you, Azul.”

“I wouldn’t call it luck. The dates just happened to align… Either way, thank you, Silver. I’m pleased you can look at it with such inspiring positivity.”

“You catch up with (Name) yet?”

“No? Am I meant to?”

“Just asking.” Ruggie shrugs. “She had me run a few errands for her yesterday. Said it was all for your sake, but when I tried to get more info outta her she told me I’d have to wait for ‘the big reveal’—whatever that is.”

Now everyone’s looking at him. Azul feels small.

“With how often I’ve heard her name tonight, I’d think she’s the one with the birthday.”

“Is she really so popular today? Odd. I haven’t had the chance to greet her,” Riddle muses.

“I thought I saw her this afternoon.” Silver furrows his brow, uncertain. “She seems busy.”

“Which is precisely why I can’t fathom the insistence that I ought to have met with her already.”

Ruggie tilts his head. “That the only reason?”

Just how many people are in on this asinine joke? More importantly, which eel is he going to have to wring out for spilling a not-so-secret secret?

Azul realizes his mask is slipping and so he repairs it expertly. If Ruggie takes notice of this, he doesn’t say anything. “It’s bad manners to show up late to a party. I’m sure one of us will agree.”

Riddle nods, but his words are surprisingly lenient. “Life happens. I suppose we can’t fault (Name) entirely.”

“She’ll make it. I’m sure she will. Don’t worry, Azul,” Silver reassures.

He’s not. He won’t. He isn’t.

“If the world was ending tomorrow,” Ruggie says, sliding into a new subject with practiced finesse, “what would you all do?”

“The end of the world…” Riddle frowns. “That’s impossible.”

“It’s a hypothetical. Anything’s possible.”

Silver hums thoughtfully. “I’d spend what time I have left with my loved ones.”

“You sure you’re not just gonna go running back to Briar Valley to protect Malleus?”

“As a guard it’s my duty, but fighting against the inevitable would be pointless.” Silver looks to the rest of them for their input. “If the world is ending and there’s nothing a guard like myself can do to prevent it, then I can only offer what’s left of my time.”

“So companionship. Okay, good to know. What about you, Riddle?”

He huffs. “I refuse to let the world end before I’ve accomplished my goals.”

“Yikes. You academic types don’t rest, do you?”

“No, no, it’s true,” Azul pipes up. “I agree. Why am I going to let the world get in the way of my plans?”

“So both of you are going to resist it until the very end?”

“You said anything can happen in a hypothetical, yes?” Riddle smirks. “In my hypothetical the world says it’ll end tomorrow, but it never does. It keeps saying so like it’s a faulty forecast. The end of the world is scheduled for next week, the week after, three weeks from now. By then, a year’s passed and the world still hasn’t ended.”

Ruggie groans. “That defeats the whole purpose of my question. You can’t give yourself more time when it’s already so limited.”

“Anything is possible if you know what you’re working with,” Azul adds, nodding alongside Riddle. “I quite like this hypothetical.”

“Leave it to the honors students to logic it out and make it more complicated than it needs to be…”

“You wouldn’t spend it with your loved ones?” Silver asks, but it appears as if the question is directed entirely at Azul. “I think I’d want to tell them the things I never got to say. Things I put off saying… Would you do that, too, Azul?”

“I…” He shuts his mouth and then opens it. “I’m not sure what I could possibly say within such a limited timeframe.”

“It doesn’t have to be complex.”

“I guess a good, old ‘love you lots’ is better than nothing,” Ruggie says.

Azul stops short. The end of the world. Time. Loss. Loved ones.

Time! He’s running out of time!

“Well, this was quite the lively discussion, but I’m afraid I’ll have to excuse myself now. There are a few more people I must meet.” Azul smiles gratefully at the three of them. They wish him another happy birthday before he finally departs, his heart in his throat.

He’s running out of time.

Logically, Azul knows the feeling doesn’t reflect his reality. It’s not as if he has to confess by the end of the school year. Logically, he has his entire life to confess. But who’s to say you’ll stay in his life after he graduates? You might be gone by the time he finally finds the right words, the right time, the right circumstance.

You can plan all you want, but you know life’s never gonna go the way you want it to.

Floyd’s right. There’s no way of knowing for sure until he does it. There’s no way to know what lies in those uncharted waters until he dives in. There’s no way to know where your heart lies until he confesses.

The world isn’t going to end tomorrow, but if he doesn’t say what he needs to before graduation he’ll never have another chance. And then that world—the world contained within NRC’s boundaries—will implode and that will be that.

At that very moment, a camera flashes. He spins around to search the photographer out and—

There you are, striding through throngs of people to reach him. There you are, dressed for the occasion. There you are, wearing that pretty smile he sees in his dreams.

“Happy birthday!” You turn the photo towards him for his viewing pleasure. It’s of him, staring off into space. He looks so stone-faced with his knitted brows and pursed lips. “Sorry about showing up late. I had to add the finishing touches to your present.”

You hand it to him. The amateur wrapping job makes the gift appear more lumpy than it actually is. It’s heavy like a textbook. Shaped as such, too. Azul wonders what its contents could be. Perhaps something relating to economics? A novel in a particular genre?

“Thank you very much. I’ll take good care of both.” He tucks the picture into his breastpocket, battling the urge to tear into your gift now. He needs to know. What did you get him? What could it possibly be? “I’m glad you could make it.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

“Even if the world was ending?”

“Uh… What?”

“Ah, never mind that. It was simply a lingering thought from a previous conversation.”

“That’s so grim! And on your birthday, no less.”

Azul waves his hand through the air. A playful smile draws his lips apart. “Can you believe Riddle said he’d make the apocalypse wait on his behalf?”

“Seriously?” You snort, eyes brightening with amusement. “Even the apocalypse gets a schedule…”

He barks out a laugh. “Insanity, isn’t it?”

“Maybe for us, but definitely not for Riddle.” You glance at him. “What about you? What does Azul Ashengrotto’s last day look like?”

He intends to answer with something prepackaged: Awash in success until the very end!

“Alone.”

“Really? No friends or family by your side?”

“Would that make it better? Perhaps being surrounded by others only intensifies the dread.”

There’s some sort of symbolism in coming into the world alone and going out the same. Azul just can’t quite phrase it eloquently.

“Maybe there’s no right answer. Maybe there’s not any comfort in it either.” You run your fingers over the edges of your Ghost Camera. “We can’t know what lies ahead until we’re there. Maybe that’s why we spend so much time theorizing.”

“Quite the insightful judgment.”

“For the record, I wouldn’t mind being your plus-one for the end of the world.”

“I’m flattered.” He grins. “I shall be yours in return.”

“No strings attached?”

“All the strings attached. So many,” he exaggerates.

“No fair!”

Silence fills in the cracks. You stand side by side, drinking in Mostro Lounge’s upbeat atmosphere. After some time, you nudge him.

“Look at us, speaking about all of these sad things. It’s your birthday, not a funeral!”

He wonders if now’s a good time. Should he lighten the mood and confess? But wouldn’t that just make it even more serious and somber? Is there ever going to be an opportune moment?

You can plan all you want, but you know life’s never gonna go the way you want it to.

Surprises. Spontaneity. Luck. All things left to chance. All things Azul attempts to anticipate. He thinks back on the many plans and what-ifs he calculated and wonders if it was worth it.

“(Name), I just wanted to say—” He stops himself, his fingers curling around the gift cradled in his arms. I love you and I want you in my life. I don’t want the world to end here with you and me. I want to know what lies beyond and experience it with you—the good and the bad. Everything. “I just wanted to thank you.”

For being my friend. For being yourself. For existing in the same world as me, even if it feels like we’re doomed to be islands apart.

“What’s this? Genuine thanks? Am I going to find an anemone on my head next?”

“That can be arranged. Isn’t it tradition to grant the person of the hour one birthday favor?”

“Hah! You wish!”

I do. I really do.

The party wears on into the night. Azul repeats the same mantra as before: I have time.

When he’s in his room, gifts piled high on his desk, he sits back in his seat and carefully unwraps yours. It’s a book, leather-bound and regal. It looks expensive. While attempting to approximate its value, he reads the title spelled out with alphabet stickers: My Azul. His brow furrows. Just what are you playing at here?

Cautiously, he opens the book to the first page. Your writing winks back at him: Happy birthday, Azul! This is my gift to you. It’s a chronological journal of your school life! :D People often say it’s difficult to picture themselves through the eyes of others, so I wanted to show you what I see every time I look at you. I hope you’ll never forget just how important you are. If you ever do, open this book to remind yourself.

With love always,

(Name).

“Curious,” he mumbles, flipping the page. The layout reminds him of a scrapbook. You’ve decorated it with stickers and patterned tape, scrawled words in different colored inks. There are two photographs—each from Azul’s second year. He’d forgotten about these. That time it snowed so much the students had a snowball fight in the courtyard. That time an alchemy accident (courtesy of Grim) led to Azul speaking in cat for the rest of the day.

In the center, a small blurb reads: My Azul is terrifyingly good at making snowballs within record time, just as he’s terrifyingly good at marketing them at all the right moments. My team was totally losing. Leave it to Azul to swoop in when he knows it’s advantageous… He’s intelligent and passionate. Even when mistakes occur, he works through them effortlessly. (Although it was nice having Catzul for a day!)

He rolls his eyes at that last bit.

The next page displays photos in much the same fashion. You’ve clearly put lots of effort and thought into each arrangement. Azul feels like he’s walking through a museum with every page. Like the first, the rest of the pages that follow include photographs of himself (some with others and some with you) and a short paragraph describing your observations.

His eyes are on the verge of a typhoon as he soaks in every sugared sentence.

My Azul is strong. My Azul is silly. My Azul has the best laugh. My Azul is great at bargaining. My Azul is awkward. My Azul is clumsy (in the best ways). My Azul is resourceful. My Azul makes the best study guides (thank you!!!!). My Azul is a hero. My Azul never gives up. My Azul is a talented mage. My Azul is…

All of these things he’s never heard anyone acknowledge before—have you always seen him in this way? Is this truly what he’s like through your eyes? He finds that hard to believe, and yet there he is on the page, winking at the camera or posing in an outfit from one of the many school trips he’s attended. You’ve added little comments and doodles in the margins and corners. Azul smiles as he reads them.

Noble Bell College sure was something! I’d like to visit again one day…

Vargas Camp was exhausting! I still can’t believe we survived.

Halloween! I want to experience it in the Coral Sea one day. But maybe just for one night. An endless Halloween is too much…

The ceremonial robes are very pretty. They’re so different from the uniforms in my world.

Happy Beans Day! Azul prepares all year for this. That level of commitment is impressive!

Azul reaches the end with watery eyes. He sniffles, so enveloped in a love he’s never felt from any friend before. You care. You truly, honestly care. It’s clear in each and every page—in the words you’ve written. You care about him.

The final page has a blank space the rough shape and size of a photograph. For some reason he understands what he’s meant to do. He slides the photograph you gave him all that time ago from his phone case and pastes it to the space. And then he reads what’s written below.

My Azul keeps all of these walls up in order to protect himself. He’s sensitive and self-conscious. He likes to uphold a perfect image at all times. He likes to keep his weaknesses hidden, his cards close. But then he’s also funny. He’s sincere and gentle. He’s sweet. He’s someone I admire from all sides, good and bad. Even when he’s scheming, even when he’s acting, he’s still Azul. My camera’s captured so many of his moments, which is very apparent now that you’ve made it to the end. But I’m happy to have documented these moments because they showcase everything that makes my Azul himself.

My Azul has never looked “positively dreadful” to my camera. Even on the days where he feels like nothing, my Azul is everything to me. I will always think so.

He’s crying. He can’t help it.

Azul sits there and he sobs.

He sobs until his throat is dry, until his eyes are blotchy and red. He sobs until he can’t anymore.

Holding the book close to his chest, he wonders how he ever managed to befriend someone like you.

An angel. That’s what you are.

An angelfish.

And he’s Azul. Your Azul.

iv. spring - but, baby, i’ll be there. yeah, baby, i’ll be there. it’s been a little hard. i’ve been a little tough. but maybe all along i’m afraid, i’m afraid, i’m afraid. i’m afraid, i’m afraid, i’m afraid.

The air is sweet with the scent of blossoming flowers, thick with pollen. Azul’s chest is light, swelling with excitement. A new chapter is about to begin. In just a few hours he’ll graduate along with the rest of his peers and then it’s off to start another story. For Azul, this is just a continuation of something already so prolific.

He strolls past The Great Seven, pausing briefly to admire the Sea Witch in all of her tentacular glory.

“With this weather, it’s almost difficult to imagine they called for rain.” Jade peers up at the sun, shielding its obtrusive rays with one hand.

“They’re always gettin’ it wrong,” Floyd says, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “So annoying. I was hopin’ it’d rain and then they’d cancel.”

“Unlikely. There are always contingency plans put in place when it comes to an event as momentous as graduation.”

“Bleh. Lame. I wanna skip. I hate bein’ in those stuffy clothes, packed in close like a sardine.”

“If you’re absent, you won’t receive your diploma.”

“What a scam.”

Jade simply smiles. Ironic.

Azul turns around to look at them. “Four years… Gone in a blink. Will either of you miss it?”

“It was certainly enjoyable. I admit there are some aspects I’ll miss quite fiercely.”

“Guess it’ll be a bummer not seein’ everyone all the time. I’m gonna miss playing with Baby Seal and Shrimpy.”

“I’ll miss them, too.” Azul sighs. “(Name) especially…”

“You still haven’t told her?” Floyd raises a brow. “You’re gonna leave without sayin’ a word?”

“That does seem to be the plan,” Jade answers.

“I… I’ve thought it over.” He clears his throat. No time for waterworks. He needs to be in top shape if he’s to deliver the opening speech as Salutatorian. Riddle took first place, which wasn’t a shock to anyone. He always did say he’d make Valedictorian no matter what. Azul had been keen to fight him for it, even if it became clear he’d never surpass him. Second place is irksome, but it has its merits. Although he isn’t going to settle with just that! He’ll get first place one of these days. “We’re better off friends.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Is that enough?”

“Is what enough?”

“Her friendship.”

“It’ll have to be.” Azul’s gaze glazes over.

He’s run out of time, but maybe that’s okay. Maybe that was meant to be.

“Well, let’s not dwell on it any further!” He claps his hands and turns swiftly on his heel. “There’s still work to be done.”

Jade and Floyd exchange furtive glances. They know as well as he does that he’s lying.

But maybe that was also meant to be.

— — —

Crowley tasked you with snapping photos for NRC’s yearbook. “Because I am a paragon of magnanimity,” he said, “I am entrusting this very important task to you once more. Take lots of pictures! Don’t miss a single moment!”

You do just that, photographing the graduates as they wait in a room behind the stage, chattering eagerly amongst themselves. You raise your camera to document Azul when he stands at the podium to give his salutation speech. You do the same for Riddle when it’s his turn. The ceremony is grand, ballooning with emotion. You look on with a cheek-splitting smile, proud of every student who crosses the stage. It’s bittersweet. The friends you made when you were enrolled as a first year are now moving on in life.

Time flies. What a whirlwind year it’s been.

When it’s Azul’s turn and he goes down the line to shake the hands of his professors and Crowley, you wave at him from your place in the audience. He meets your eyes from where he stands, and he smiles.

Your camera catches that moment in perfect permanence.

By the end of it all, your face hurts from smiling, your throat sore from cheering, your hands raw from clapping. Grim grumbles at you to knock it off with the sun shower, your tears dampening his fur. You wipe your eyes and sniffle. “I’m happy for them. It’s a good day.”

He forces his head under your palm, allowing you to pet him and cry through it in peace. He doesn’t say anything. You don’t need him to.

While the graduates meet up with their family and friends, you make your rounds. Kalim introduces you to his parents and siblings—all thirty-something of them. You’re in a daze by the time introductions are finished, and Jamil leans over to whisper, “No need to commit everyone to memory.”

“Have you talked to Azul yet?” Kalim asks after everything has settled down.

You shake your head. “Why? What’s up?”

“Just wanted to ask. I know the Headmage wants you to take lots of pictures.”

“We shouldn’t keep you any longer than we already have,” Jamil adds with a curt nod.

You smile. “Congrats, both of you. Good luck.”

“We gotta keep in touch. Promise me you’ll call whenever you can. You’re always welcome to visit, too! Oh, I’ll go check with my parents now! I’m sure they’ll say yes!” Kalim bounds off in their direction.

“Just let me know well in advance. That way I can plan for proper accommodations,” Jamil says, following Kalim with sharp eyes.

“I’ll do that.” You turn to leave and then stop. “I hope you get your vacation one day, Jamil.”

He stares at you, mystified, before a gentle smile softens on his face. “One day,” he echoes. “I hope you’ll find your way home.”

“One day.”

The two of you share a final look before going your separate ways.

Surrounded in such an energetic environment, talking to and meeting families, you find yourself longing for your loved ones. So much time has passed. You wonder how they’re doing. Are they well? Are they worried?

“Aah, it’s Shrimpy!” Floyd crashes into you with so much force you nearly topple. He steadies you with a giggle. “Where’s Baby Seal?”

“Left to gorge on refreshments. Hey, since you’re here, can I get your picture?”

“Course you can.”

Detaching himself, he poses for you. You take a few photos, mirroring his good mood.

“Are your parents around?”

“Mhm!”

“Seriously? They came?”

“Course they did.”

“Did they take transformation potions?”

Floyd nods. “Pops does land business sometimes, so he’s used to it. Mama doesn’t leave home much. She’s real bad at walking on her feet.”

“Ah, got it.”

Floyd grins down at you. “You wanna meet ’em?”

“Maybe later… I’ve gotta keep taking photos.”

“I gotcha. Make sure to snap a few of Azul.”

“Right! Speaking of him, where is he? I’ve spoken to everyone but him.”

Floyd peers out across a sea of faces, scanning each one like a predator sizing up his next meal. “He’s avoidin’ ya.”

“What? Why?”

“Why don’tcha ask him when you see him? Bet he’ll have a fun answer for ya.”

You would, if only you could find him. As the afternoon wears on, you begin to lose hope. If he’s truly hiding from you, he’s doing a great job of it. After what feels like hours of walking in aimless circles, you take pause to consider the situation. If you were Azul and you wanted to hide away for a little while, where would you go?

To someplace familiar. To someplace comfortable. To someplace quiet.

He’s pacing in front of Ramshackle when you arrive. You open the gate and step through, taking each step one at a time. Once you’re within a close enough proximity, you make your presence known.

“Azul?”

He startles and whips around. As soon as he sees you, he lurches forward, intending to leave.

You block his path. “Hey, wait! What gives? I’ve been looking all over for you. Floyd told me you’re avoiding me.”

“Floyd doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“But I’m sure you do. So what’s up?”

“It’s…nothing. I merely wanted to tour campus one last time.”

“Oh. Why didn’t you say anything? I would’ve come with you!” You attempt to elbow him, but he side-steps you. “Uh, right…”

“Ah, sorry. I… Admittedly, there’s quite a lot on my mind.”

“I get it. Congrats, by the way. Your speech was really good.”

“I’m pleased you think so.”

This…isn’t Azul, you realize, a frown flickering on your face. At least not the Azul I usually see.

“I got to meet all of Kalim’s siblings.”

“Did you? All of them?”

“Every. Single. One. His family’s huge!”

An uncomfortable silence festers between the two of you. You glance at your camera and then at Azul.

“Can you believe that Crowley? He wanted me to take all of these pictures, but there were dozens of professionals who did it much better than me! What was even the point?”

“Terrible, isn’t it? A job as good as the one you do deserves proper payment.”

“Exactly! My services aren’t free.”

Azul smiles, a wistful gloss to his gaze. You can see the cogs turning behind his eyes—can see the calculation as it comes to fruition.

“You can cry. I won’t judge.”

“I’m not going to.”

“It’s fine. It’s normal, Azul.”

He inhales a deep breath, holds it for three seconds, and then releases. When he looks at you next, his expression is hard and riddled with subdued anxiety. A zephyr blows between you, rustling the leaves in the trees, raking through the grass, dragging wispy fingers through your clothes and hair. The quiet expands and stretches wide.

Azul opens his mouth, shuts it, and sighs. A forlorn resignation flits over his countenance.

“I—” he swallows hard and then it just bursts free, the admission he’s kept secret for so long— “I love you.”

Another breeze combs through the premises. Your gasp is swept away with it.

“I’ve loved you for two years. And I… I wanted to tell you so many times in the past, but I never could. I was scared and I ran away. I still am! The truth is that I’m afraid of losing you. I’m afraid of messing up in front of you and looking like a fool. I’m afraid of showing you the parts of myself I hate most. I’m even afraid of that phrase—of saying it because it terrifies me to think, in some distant world, it might be reciprocated. But I have to say it, and I want you to know. Even if you don’t feel the same, I have to tell you.”

You gape at him, utterly speechless. The longer you do so, the more flustered he becomes.

“Y-You’re free to think it’s gross or weird. I understand I’m not the most ideal candidate, but I…” He wrings his hands, exhaling shakily. “I think you’re everything. My whole world.”

There are so many things you want to say. So, so many. But they’re all jumbled, carried along like flowers floating down a stream in spring. You close the gap, taking his hands in yours, and you kiss him.

Azul startles, squeaking against your lips. It takes a minute for him to find his rhythm, but soon he’s wilting against you, his body relaxed. You taste saliva and salt—tears. When you pull back, he’s crying.

“I think you’re the most ideal candidate. I’ve always thought so.” You cradle his cheek in a warm hand.

A sob trembles through him. “I never thought—you’re just so… I couldn’t have imagined…”

“That I’d like you?”

“Yes!”

“Why?” “Because…”

“I’ve always liked you, Azul. I’d never lie about that. Your birthday gift—those are my honest opinions.”

“Every one of them?”

“Each and every one.”

He sniffles weakly, drying his eyes with the heel of his palm.

Instinctively, you reach for your camera. And then you hesitate. You’ve always stood behind the protective lens of your trusty Ghost Camera, assuming the role of photographer in order to remain in his orbit. But now you’d like to try putting the camera aside and documenting Azul’s moments with your own two eyes.

He loves me.

You just manage to shut the front door before you’re pulling him flush against you. He presses you up against the wall in the foyer, a knee slotting between your legs. You melt in mutual merriment, grabbing at every part of him. Your uniform blouse is ripped open in a hurry. You try to handle his graduation robes with caution, appreciating expensive embroidery, but vehemence gets the better of you. It’s a wild rush. Hot and panting, you’re shuddering in carnal delight, every nerve alight. When he presses up against you next, half-dressed and hazy with an addictive adoration, you can feel the result of your exploratory touches straining for release.

“Upstairs,” you mumble against his mouth, sweating out of your skin.

You fall into bed as one, tangled around each other. Azul trails kisses up the expanse of your stomach, working you open on skillful fingers. You shiver beneath him, your heart pounding in your ribs.

“I love you.” A kiss to your belly.

“I love you.” A kiss to the valley of your breasts.

“I love you.” A kiss to your lips.

You love him just as intensely.

He drags his fingers out next, admiring the slick coating them like it’s a valuable substance. You giggle, dizzy with delirium.

“Can I call you mine?”

You run your hands up and down his arms. “I’d like that.”

“Your boyfriend,” he murmurs, astonished. “I’m your boyfriend…”

“Mhm…” You sit up in bed and climb into his lap. Slowly, inch by inch, you lower yourself. He sucks in a breath through grit teeth. “And I’m—mmh—I’m your girlfriend.”

Azul whines into your mouth. His arms wrap around you to keep you firmly pinned to his body, and he bucks his hips up to meet you the rest of the way. Filled in such a way, connected so intimately, you breathe a satisfied sigh. You dig your nails into his shoulders. Every muscle slackens. It’s bliss, pure and perfect. The both of you mold to one another like sea meeting shore.

You grind down, chasing a mounting climax. “You’re the best—perfect. So perfect. Oh, I love you, Azul. I love you so much. I’ve always wanted to say it.”

He presses his forehead to yours. “You have no idea how fervently I’ve yearned for this—for you.”

You can’t possibly begin to imagine, but you can definitely relate. Weeks of silent pining, of hoping something might happen and you’d be able to confess without fear. Those days are behind you. Now you can know love in his arms and it isn’t so uncertain.

You lose yourselves in the sensations of sweet, soulful sex. He’s gentle like a spring breeze, dedicated like a devotee at your altar. You’re much the same, your moans just as plentiful. Just as loud. You’re wrapped in wonder when you look into his eyes and find the same amount of love reflected back.

I’m so happy I met you.

When he cums, he digs his fingers into your hips to drag you down and bury himself deeper inside. You unravel shortly after, your orgasm coaxed out by a few attentive massages to your clit. Your bodies, sticky and sweaty, stay connected even after you’ve come down from the clouds.

“Had I known, I would’ve said something sooner.” After catching his breath, Azul rests his head in the crook of your neck. “I regret it.”

“I don’t. Things happen when they happen.” You run your fingers through the tangled, silvery strands of his hair. It’s soft just like him. He leans into your touch and hums appreciatively. “I’m glad it happened when it did.”

“I’m glad I could say it. It would’ve eaten me alive if I’d left without telling you.”

“And are you still afraid?”

Azul places his hand over yours. “No, not anymore. The world ahead looks much clearer now.”

“Am I in it?”

He laughs. “More than that.”

“Oh?”

“You are my world.”

#twst x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #azul x reader #n/sfw

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lathalea · 8 months

Text

The Arrival

Yes, my beloved readers, it's time for another Thorin fic from yours truly!

Relationships: Thorin Oakenshield x Reader/OC (pick one) Rating: G Warnings: none Author's notes: Thorin and his Company have reclaimed Erebor and started rebuilding their kingdom. Everything seems fine except for the fact that the King Under The Mountain is eagerly awaiting the arrival of someone very dear to him... Also, I want to apologise to Peter Jackson for stealing some lines from An Unexpected Journey and J.R.R. Tolkien for appropriating and rephrasing one sentence from The Lord of The Rings. I'm a hopeless romantic, what can I say? You can find this fic on AO3. For @legolasbadass 💙💙💙

Khuzdul: Iglishmêk - dwarven sign language Kurdelê - my heart Lukhdelê - my light of all lights

The King Under the Mountain, Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, the second of his name, also known as Thorin Oakenshield, the king of Durin’s folk, was not a patient Dwarf—and yet he waited. He had been standing on the main terrace above the Great Gate of Erebor since the moment when the first rays of the morning sun gilded the distant peaks of the Iron Hills. His eyes, however, were turned towards the west, where the jagged tops of the Misty Mountains grazed against the pink sky. As he took a deep breath, fresh spring air filled his lungs. It was his—and his people’s—first spring in Erebor since it was reclaimed. The winter after the Battle of Five Armies passed in a blink of an eye. The kingdom was being rebuilt and prepared for the returning Dwarves, food stores had to be replenished, new trade agreements had to be signed… but among all those duties, something else kept Thorin awake until late on many a night. His memories.

The memory of a pair of hands gently resting on his shoulders as he sat behind his desk, and the sweet timbre of the voice that went with it, “Come, Kurdelê, it is time we reposed for the night, those reports can wait until the morning.”

The memory of those soft, sweet lips pressing innocently against his cheek and murmuring something scandalously indecent into his ear.

The memory of how her body felt in his lap, his arms around her waist, her arms around his neck, her forehead pressed against his, her silver laughter as she pretended to scold his rash behaviour, so unbecoming of a king.

The memory of her bare skin in candlelight.

But there were other memories, too. Their lengthy late-night conversations about anything and everything. Their secret escapades to the market, or to an inn, dressed as common folk, pretending to be a couple of travelling merchants. Their wanderings through the Blue Mountains in search of the best view of the sea in the west (his choice) and the most beautiful flower glades (her choice).

During the lengthy council meetings he had to hold almost daily in Erebor, he would recall how much her presence changed the dynamics of similar gatherings back in the Blue Mountains. Her reasoning was swift, and her no-nonsense approach to the matters of state made even the most ancient council members nod in approval. Even now, he would—out of habit—turn to his right, wishing to discuss a matter with her or ask for her insight. But she was not there, and so he would give out a dissatisfied grunt and return to the matter at hand.

He knew that the only thing he had to do was wait, and he abhorred it. But there was nothing to be done. No sane person would risk crossing the Misty Mountains in the middle of winter. Now, however, the spring came into its own right. And he sent his best men to the High Pass to oversee the approach of the first dwarven caravan from Eriador. It was supposed to bring the first group of his people returning home, merchants, masters of craft, their families and belongings… and her. The whole Erebor was waiting for the arrival of their kin—the symbol of a new beginning for the Mountain and its dwellers. Many eyes turned to the west, counting the days, making wagers, discussing the route the waggons must have taken, and the current road conditions. It seemed that in those days, only one topic existed: the caravan.

But Thorin could only think of her lovely hand in his. Of her kindred touch.

As soon as a raven brought word from the caravan, reporting that they have succesfully crossed the mountains, he could not stop himself from looking to the west, and hoping.

This was the fifth day he spent on the terrace, waiting for any signs of the caravan’s approach.

On the first day, Gloin waited with him in hopes of seeing his wife and son, but was called away due to some issue in the treasure chamber. Thorin stayed, cursing the enchanted forest (and its haughty king, for good measure) for daring to obscure his view. Sadly, neither the forest nor its king moved out of the way.

On the second day, Dwalin asked Thorin whether he was growing mawkish in his dotage, staring at the edge of Mirkwood like a lovesick whelp—a question he had to take back on the training grounds.

On the third day, Dori asked whether Thorin would rather wait inside, on account of that nasty rain, and drink some warm tea with honey. No, said Thorin, he would not. And that envoy from the Iron Hills could join him there, on the terrace, by the way.

On the fourth day, Nori, Bifur and Bofur kept Thorin company, amusing him—and themselves in equal measure—with the latest gossip straight from the taverns of Erebor (all two of them, for now). He had no idea that several hundreds of dwarves, mostly newcomers from the Iron Hills and the White Mountains, could wreak such havoc. And marry so swiftly and in such numbers. Spring was truly in the air.

Now, on the fifth day, he stood alone, and waited. Roac was circling the Long Lake below, giving out a single caw from time to time, “Still nothing.”

And then, a hunting horn rang out in the air. Thorin knew its sound all too well.

“Balin!” he exclaimed to his friend who sat in the hall beyond the terrace. “Sound the alarm!”

The elderly dwarf raised his head from above a piece of parchment, slightly puzzled.

“Call out the guard,” Thorin insisted, feeling his impatience take the better of him. “Do it now!

“What is it?” Balin rose from his seat, his scroll forgotten.

“The caravan!” Thorin gestured excitedly—perhaps a tad too excitedly for a Dwarf of his stature—towards Mirkwood, where a long line of waggons started emerging from the forest. “They will be here soon!”

She will be here soon.

Over a year passed since the last time he held her in his arms, since he braided the silky dark waves of her hair, and since he looked into the brilliant, wise eyes of the woman he loved. To him, it felt like an eternity, and in that very moment, as he hurried down the stairs that led towards the Great Gate, he made a solemn promise to himself.

When the caravan arrived, most of the Dwarves were already gathered outside of the mountain. The guards held their heads high, presenting their weapons in an honorary salute, not leaving their posts, but even they cast curious glances at the newly arrived, trying to find familiar faces in the crowd. Thorin smirked at his thoughts. They looked as impatient as their king.

He knew the protocol of such meetings like the back of his hand, requiring him to stand by the gate, look regally, and welcome the newcomers to their new—old—home. His resolve wavered, however, when he saw a familiar figure clad in a green, fur-lined gown getting down a waggon, helped by one of the guardsmen. She was even more beautiful than he remembered. Without thinking, he took a step forward, and then stopped, recalling who he was and what he was expected to do. He was also not allowed to leave his post, just like his guards. Instead, he observed from a distance, admiring the way the waves of her hair fell down her shoulders as she looked around, perhaps slightly disoriented, taking in the surroundings. Thorin saw the exact moments when her gaze rested on the mossy stone shaped by his ancestors into statues of warrior kings. Then her gaze moved down, focusing on the green marble of the Great Gate. Her eyes widened, her lips formed an “O” and then moved, she spoke something, but her words were lost in all the commotion. In that very moment, she reminded him of that bright-eyed maiden he had met for the first time in a mountain meadow half a world away; the maiden who laughed at his abysmal jokes, who fit so well in his arms when they danced, and who accepted his awkward courting efforts. The time that passed between then and now did not take away her ability to wonder and enjoy the world around her. She endured so many hardships on the way from the Blue Mountains to Erebor, so many cold nights on the road, faced so many dangers, and yet she never wavered in her decision to leave the Blue Mountains behind to be with him and their people. Now, she was finally here and, at last, he felt complete. Being able to see his own kingdom—their kingdom—through her eyes, and to see how amazed she was at the view, was a reward on its own.

Thorin could not stop himself from smiling when her eyes finally met his.

“Welcome home, my…” he began signing in iglishmêk, in that discreet way they often did on official occasions when the eyes of many would rest on them.

A light flush bloomed on her cheeks, she responded with a smile, and began walking towards him, oblivious of her escort and the joyous crowd around her, forgetting about the protocol, moving faster and faster, a giggle escaping her lips, her braids danced in the wind, her cloak flowed behind her, and…

“Thorin!” she called him in that melodious voice of hers, and there were diamonds in her eyes, or perhaps it was only his vision that suddenly turned very blurry, and he opened her arms, and thought “the Abyss take the protocol!”, and he rushed towards her, ignoring Balin clearing his throat in embarrassment, because she was finally here, and he had waited long enough—and they finally met halfway.

He wrapped his arms around her and felt her pressing into him, and there was laughter, and more tears in their eyes, the diamonds of happiness, those most precious among gems, and he was finally able to finish that sentence.

“Welcome home, my wife,” he rasped out, pressing his forehead against her, breathing in her familiar flowery scent, the one he adored so much. This was her, finally her, in his arms, and only she mattered in this very moment, not the crowd cheering around them, witnessing this moment of tenderness between their ruling couple, not even his kingdom, nor the world around them—now, it was only her.

“I missed you, my love,” she murmured, holding tight onto him, as if she wanted to make sure he would not disappear, and a wave of warmth washed over him. “I can’t believe I’m finally here, with you, after all those months…”

“Neither can I,” he agreed, cupping her cheek tenderly and eliciting a small sigh from her. “It was much too long, Lukhdelê.”

“Aye, it was,” she nodded, her eyes searching his face, as if learning it anew.

“I made a promise to myself,” Thorin continued. “Never again.”

“Oh?” she tilted her head in that alluring way of hers, and he had to suppress the improper urge to kiss her passionately in front of his people.

“Never again shall we part for so long. I crave you by my side, my heart,” he stated, bringing her hand to his lips.

“Then I will be looking forward to you upholding the promise,” she graced him with a teasing smile that made his blood run faster. “We have been apart indeed for too long, and so were our people. I believe it is time for us to work on improving their morale, would you not agree, my king?”

“Your wish is my command, my queen,” he agreed and took her in his arms again, and then their lips met. Sweetness intermingled with warmth, tenderness fueled the fire inside them, and he cared not that they stood in front of the gate in the sight of many.

After all, who cares about protocol when you have to properly welcome your wife home?

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#thorin oakenshield #the hobbit #richard armitage #thorin x reader #legolasbadass #the hobbit fanfiction #thorin x oc #thorin oakenshield x reader #hobbit fic #thorin

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persphonesorchid · 2 years

Text

Auburn Skies - MYG

Summary: Everyone knows that if your best friend has a little sister, she's off limits. That, and the fact that your best friend will probably kill you if you even think about going near his sister. Yoongi knows this. There's no way he could tell Namjoon that once upon a time you kissed him, drunk in his living room after a break up. So much time's passed since then, too much time to bring it up now, but Yoongi still thinks about it, he's still a little hopeful. Now you're here at the lake house because Namjoon brought you and you clearly have something you want to say to Yoongi.

Namjoon's gonna kill him.

Genre: 18+, fluff, angst, humor.

Word count: 12k

Warning(s): 18+, smut, oral (m+f receiving) unprotected sex, porn is mentioned. Yoongi and Y/n are BOTH stupid and they need help. Taehyung's trying his best, Seokjin is also trying his best but subtler. Yoongi's convinced that Namjoon's out to get him at every turn. Slight jealousy. Y/n and Yoongi have no idea how to actually hold a conversation like adults, until they do.

Notes: My addition to the Autumn Leaves Collab, hosted by the beautiful @bangtansmauyeondan !! I had so much fun working on this, and I met so many beautiful people that I'm so grateful for, so happy to call my friends 🥺 I love y'all! Please check out the other authors' fics on the Collab Masterlist! Everyone worked so hard, give my girls some love! Shout out to @blog-name-idk and @xpeachesncream for being absolute aNGELS, beta reading and helping me out when I panicked over this lol, and @madbutgloriouspond for helping me brainstorm. I hope you guys enjoy!! Please leave feedback, I'm nothing but a poor soul seeking validation (and motivation!) to keep going.

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"You're staring." Seokjin nudges Yoongi's arm with his, snapping him out of his daze. He catches Seokjin's smirk, and there's a twinkle in his eye that promises nothing good. Yoongi pulls his eyes away from your form, sitting in a chair on the dock away from everyone else with a book in your hand. You're bundled up in a thick sweater and cozy sweatpants, completely lost in your book.

"Was not." Yoongi feels the need to deny it, distracting himself with cutting up onions, focusing on the way the blade of the knife cuts through the vegetable and definitely not the way Seokjin was wiggling his eyebrows at him.

"Sure. I believe you."

Somewhere inside, there is music playing. A Lo-Fi beat that plays softly under the sound of rain. It's kind of sad, if Yoongi is being honest, but he supposes that autumn is a sad season. Nothing but changes all around. The leaves change colours, mixing like paint on an easel in the hands of a melancholy artist drowning in his own solitude. They shift and the vibrancy of summer fades until they die, falling off their homes to go drifting in the wind, or land on the ground to become everyone's problem.

He doesn't really like autumn, when winter is right around the corner and he can feel the cold seeping into his bones no matter how many layers he wears. Always leaving his cheeks and his nose red, and his fingers hurting when the chill gets to them.

You enjoy it though, even reminded him when he picked up you and Namjoon this morning. You were kicking at the pile of leaves in front of Namjoon's apartment complex like a kid, laughing like you didn't have a worry in the world. You greeted him like you hadn't seen him in years, running up to him with Namjoon's scarf wrapped awkwardly around your neck like you were in a rush.

Namjoon is currently skipping stones with Jungkook near the lake's edge, and Yoongi can see he's halfway to giving up because Jungkook is on his competitive streak again.

Namjoon is one of his closest friends. He met him in college when they were both fresh out of highschool and riding on shotgun dreams of being more than what they are. He remembers meeting you during spring break of his junior year, and you were blabbering about getting accepted into the same college as Namjoon; determined to follow your brother to the end of time.

The only word to describe your first meeting was awkward, to say the least. He'd only ever heard of you, with Namjoon going off about you whenever Yoongi lent his ear. His baby sister who was doing so well in school, his baby sister, who to Namjoon, practically hung the moon in the sky. Now, Yoongi thinks he's naturally awkward when meeting new people, he can't help it. Getting to know someone is hard no matter how much you hear about them, even though you've got a pretty good impression just by word of mouth. There were shy 'hi's' and the most soul crushing 'See you later's' when there's little to no chance of ever seeing that person again. Sweaty, nervous hands meeting in shakes and straight lipped smiles.

Now, Yoongi was sure he wasn't too bad at it. And you were good, smiling brightly, not looking as awkward as he felt. What was awkward was the way Namjoon had excused himself to his parent's kitchen, pretending to get a glass of water. Yoongi had followed him with his eyes, because why was he leaving him standing in front of his sister alone?

Yoongi still remembers the chill that went down his spine that morning, as Namjoon watched him dead in the eyes over your head. A look Yoongi had never once received from him before, one that simply said: "If you think anything about my sister that isn't innocent; you will die."

As a best friend, Yoongi respected that. As a man, Yoongi valued his life. He wouldn't dare. It's the code, do not, under any circumstances, think about your best friend's sister romantically or less. You were off limits from the day Namjoon showed Yoongi that picture of you.

Off limits.

Yoongi heard that loud and clear and Namjoon hadn't said a word that day.

You were off limits, still, when you'd called him at ass o'clock in the morning - not Namjoon, your brother who trusted with everything - about some smarmy asshole who thought it was funny to break your heart. When he picked you up outside a bar where you were supposed to meet your boyfriend of a year, standing in the rain, soaked to the bone, crying and slightly drunk.

Looking beautiful even when you had stumbled your way to his car, asking what did you do to deserve getting cheated on. He didn't answer you then, he had too much to say and it wasn't the time, not when you were drunk and wouldn't remember a thing when the sun came up. So he cranked up the heat in his car, and white knuckled the steering wheel the whole drive to his apartment, because yours was too far and it was late.

Off the whole damn table, when you'd kissed him on the mouth, still drunk, still crying and clinging onto him in his living room. He pushed you gently away, even as he licked his lips to chase the taste of you. Keeping the distance between you both wide as he watched you shatter like glass in his hold. You apologized through your sobs, and Yoongi's own heart broke as he tried and failed to pick up the pieces of yours scattered at your feet.

You asked him not to tell Namjoon, and Yoongi never said a damn word. You slept in his bed that night, in his clothes that were way too big for you, and left the next day like nothing happened.

You're still off limits now, even as you've grown up and are going into your senior year. Now that Yoongi finished college and had a job like a responsible adult, now his biggest worry is the price of bread climbing up and whatever the hell was on the news.

"Namjoon, we agreed that you weren't gonna come within 10ft of this space."

Yoongi looks up to find Namjoon wandering aimlessly towards them, holding a bowl of something in his hand. He stops dead in his tracks though, frowning, "I'm not that clumsy."

Yoongi and Seokjin share a look, before raising an eyebrow each at Namjoon. He sighs, lifting the bowl in his hand, "Hobi told me to tell you that Jungkook told him..."

"For Christ's sake..." Seokjin sighs, "Just get over here."

Namjoon grins like a kid, hobbling over to place the bowl next to Yoongi's busy hands. The bowl filled with slices of pork belly that Yoongi forgot he told Namjoon to fetch for him a long while ago. Too distracted to ask about it when he was skipping stones with Jungkook, he didn't even notice when he'd moved to get it.

He wonders what else he missed, lost in his own thoughts, and his eyes dart around to catch sight of you. Of course, you were no longer in the spot you'd claimed, now standing next to Jungkook. Both of you are laughing at Jimin, who was struggling to reach a branch of a tree that Jungkook could easily reach without stretching. You attempt it, jumping to reach, but you just don't make it and it's Jimin's turn to laugh, all crescent eyes and round cheeks.

At least someone's having fun.

Seokjin was mumbling something as he pokes at the coals in the grill, and Yoongi avoids looking at Namjoon because he realised he's staring again. He's awfully quiet, and Yoongi isn't sure if it's because of him, and he really doesn't want to risk his life here.

"'Autumn is the season that teaches us that change can be beautiful.'" Namjoon says, and Yoongi finds that he wasn't even looking his way. Instead, he was watching the lake with an odd look in his eyes, distant, like if he was thinking about something too hard and struggling to grasp it. At the same time though, he looked like he knew exactly what he was talking about; smiling to himself. He pats Yoongi cryptically on the back - a little forcefully - catching him off guard, and says nothing more as he walks away.

"We all know what it means when Joon starts quoting." Seokjin snickers, "You're so screwed."

Yoongi hums, and Seokjin gives him a knowing look, a look that says way more than what Yoongi is comfortable with, and he wonders, briefly, if he was being obvious, or if Seokjin was more observant than he gave him credit for.

"I hope the weather holds up." Seokjin mumbles, head tilted up and leaning slightly forward over the table to see past the awning above, he watches the sky with a small frown, "Said it was gonna rain sometime today."

Yoongi is grateful for the subject change, dumping the seasoning he chopped up into a bowl. He glances at the lake, at the reflection of the clouds on the water, they look a little gray with the promise of rain. He doesn't mind the rain, though, if it does, Taehyung's plan of sitting around the fire with marshmallows on a wire would be completely dashed.

Yoongi's not sure he could deal with the kid pouting all night because of it, and he hoped that the weather held up, too.

When lunch was ready, it was a little after two pm. The picnic table was clear of leaves that were raked to the side and into piles to deal with later. Hoseok finally crawled out of the bunk room, hair sticking up in odd angles and eyes sleepy still as he helped set the table with you and Jimin.

Yoongi walks over to the table with the small cooler he'd brought with him, packed full with ice and cans of beer, because what's lunch without it?

Seokjin walks behind, still prattling on about the weather, hoping for a little sunshine later on so he could get in the rowboat and swing his fishing rod around. He may have asked Yoongi if he wanted to come with him, but Yoongi was once again distracted; your soft laugh tunnelling his focus.

He sighs, internally, because God forbid anyone hears and starts asking invasive questions. Taehyung, of course, was clinging to you, not letting you move two spaces out of his orbit. Which of course, wasn't strange, Taehyung was just clingy that way; always stuck to someone like a kitten that hasn't yet learned to regulate its temperature.

The sight of it though, makes Yoongi's chest ache in a way that wasn't unfamiliar to him. The kind of ache that squeezes tight and knocks the air out of him, the ache he felt that night in his apartment living room when you kissed him. Thinking about it now makes the ache worse, because Yoongi knows what that kiss was, he knows what it meant and exactly where it came from. You were reeling that night, fresh out of a relationship that ended in a way you never saw coming, and that's where it came from. You were drunk, hurting, and attached yourself emotionally to the first person to treat you nicely.

It just happened to be Yoongi at the time.

He hates to think about it that way, as though it meant nothing when he wanted it to mean something. Yoongi likes to take things the way they came, there's nothing more than what it was, nothing to decipher or to sit and mull over. Not like he did that night, sitting up late on his couch, long after you'd passed out, then beating himself up about the whole thing because he was this close to laying his heart out at that moment.

He's glad he didn't. When you left the morning after, he wasn't even awake, woke up to his empty bed and quiet apartment. No note, no text - not that you owed him anything - so he left it as it was; unspoken.

He passes everyone a beer, avoiding your gaze when your hand brushes his, ignoring the soft smile on your lips that brightens your eyes and makes his chest hurt. He moves around the table and takes his seat in between Seokjin and Hoseok. He's sitting directly across from you, and to his rotten luck, Namjoon sits to your left, which puts Yoongi within his direct line of sight. He wonders if he'll be able to keep his eyes to himself, not get caught staring at you, even if your brother wasn't even paying him mind. Yoongi is cautious, still.

The chatter that fills the air is gentle, with laughs and catching up with each other. It was hard to find the time to do things like this, everyone was busy with their own schedules; the younger ones had school, the rest of them had work. Shit always get in the way.

Yoongi eyes Taehyung, who sits to your right and was poking at your arm more than he was eating. He had half a mind to tell Taehyung to quit it, the little devil on his shoulder telling him that he should; poking at his cheek and pointing. It isn't his place, though.

There's a twinkle in Taehyung's eye when their eyes meet, something mischievous that Yoongi would normally see from him when he was up to something. He turns slightly to you, whispering something to you with a hand covering the movement of his lips.

Yoongi's curious, he wonders what he's saying that makes your cheeks flush a pretty shade. Wonders what it is, when your eyes meet his for a second and you swat at Taehyung's hand. The younger man was clearly pleased with himself, smiling eyes meeting Yoongi's for a second too long, and Yoongi busies himself with stuffing his mouth with food.

"Think the water's cold?" Jungkook was looking out at the lake, doe eyes curious, his tongue absently fiddling with the ring in his lip.

"It's still early in the season..." Jimin answers, piling a spoonful of rice onto his plate, following Jungkook's gaze a moment after. "Wouldn't risk it though."

"I mean, you can if you want." Yoongi shrugs, "Just don't complain when you catch a cold."

Jungkook pouts, leaning his weight against Hoseok with a groan. Everyone knows Jungkook well enough to know that's exactly what he'd do, and then abuse his position as the youngest for the rest of their stay at the lake house.

The table was silent for a while, everyone occupied with stuffing their faces with the food, interrupted when Namjoon laughed at something Jimin said and choked on the rice in his mouth and is now nursing a bottle of water.

Yoongi missed this, just hanging out with his friends like they were back in college sneaking beer into the dorms and laughing over their drunken rambles. Just being.

Once lunch was over, they cleared the table of the bowls and plates, carrying everything inside to be washed up.

"I'll do the dishes," Hoseok says, balancing the large pot with plates and eating utensils in his hands.

"I'll do them, Hobi." Yoongi takes the pot from Hoseok's lax fingers, not giving him room to complain before he takes everything to the kitchen.

Yoongi misses the way Taehyung pokes your side, he did hear the smack of you hitting the offending limb, though. "I'll help you."

Yoongi feels his shoulders tense, and he tries to ignore it, setting the pot into the sink, while the boys place the other dirty dishes. He watches you for a moment, as you busy yourself packing away the seasoning and packets of spices back into their rightful places. He starts on the dishes, hyper aware of your presence somewhere behind him, but tries his best to keep it as far from the front of his mind as he could.

At some point, you switch places, and Yoongi takes up the task of drying the bowls and plates, packing them where they're supposed to be. He doesn't question it, just grateful to have something to do with his hands, mindful, to keep his head empty, because if his mind strays just a bit, he'll be thinking of things he really shouldn't. Off limit things. Like how he wished he'd just suck it up and kissed you back that night instead of pushing you away like he did. But, that would've been wrong of him, no? It wasn't the time and you weren't in the right frame of mind.

Yoongi skirts by you, packing the bowls back into the cupboard. This is awkward, maybe he should have let Hoseok do it when he said he would.

"Can I ask you something?" You suddenly ask, and Yoongi almost drops the bowl he's holding, not expecting you to speak because you've been so quiet. He glances over to the living room, where Namjoon and Jin are starting up a game of Mario Kart before he turns to look at you. Why does he always do that? It feels as though he's sneaking around for no reason whatsoever, always looking to make sure that Namjoon isn't looking at him.

"Uh, sure?" God, is it just him that's awkward? You look perfectly fine, elbow deep in soap water, scrubbing away at something in the sink, a small smile on your lips. Yoongi wipes his sweaty hands on his jeans, bringing them back up to stuff them into the pockets of his sweater. Play it cool, Min. "What's up?"

You turn your head, looking at him, and he swallows. The sink slowly drains, making that odd sucking noise as the water goes down and you look like you're struggling to grasp your words. There's a cute furrow between your brows, and Yoongi doesn't miss the way you bite your lip and look everywhere but at him.

Jin swears at Namjoon in rapid fire, in that way he does when he's got too much to say and not enough breath. Yoongi could see his arms flying up and swatting at Namjoon's shoulder, yelling about the blue shell he threw.

You take a breath, eyes settling somewhere above his head, clearly trying to block out Jin's racket, "Well...um..." You glance at him and look away, and Yoongi's just a little hopeful.

You look nervous, for once, wringing the life out of the dish towel in your hand as you press your lips together. There's a crease at your brow and Yoongi wonders what's bugging you. There were times when you'd freely spill your thoughts, up with him all ungodly hours just talking because that's what brother's best friends do, right? Offer comfort and a space to vent that isn't in the viewpoint of your sibling? He wonders what changed.

He knows though. It was that night, after that, things have been tense between you both, Yoongi just wishes it'd stop. He misses you texting him to tell him how your day went, or you constantly reminding him that he's way cooler than your older brother. He watches you now, if just to see you get even more flustered, even though he didn't know why.

Hope is an evil, never necessarily a good thing, if all it does is make you believe that something would work even though there's a slim chance that it actually would. Yoongi hates that he's hopeful right now. Hates that he's hoping that the flush of your cheeks and your nervous fidgeting has something to do with him, he hates that he wished you'd just spit it out already and stop his mind from coming up with all these things.

"Okay." You sigh, nodding more to yourself in a self-assured kind of way. Your eyes find his, briefly, before darting away, "Okay, so, I wanted to-"

"Hey, Y/n. Wanna play a round of Mario Kart with me?" Taehyung asks, walking into the kitchen with a smile, eyes filtering between you and Yoongi before they settle on you again. He pauses when you snap your mouth shut, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth and slowly look at him. You and Taehyung share a look that Yoongi's not too certain he wants to know what's about; the silence between you three is too loud.

"What?" the younger man asks, "Did I interrupt something?"

"No."

"Yes."

Yoongi stares at Taehyung, trying his hardest not to glare at him, because what you wanted to say was clearly important. You were staring at him, Yoongi could feel it, but he's giving you an opening to say what you need to.

"No, Tae, you didn't. I'll play." You smile a little forcefully, finally giving the dishcloth a break and laying it down on the island counter. "I'll tell you later?" You tilt your head at Yoongi and he can only nod, hopeful again, that you really would and not find an easy out.

"Okay."

"Tae, can't we do this later or something?" You frown, speaking lowly as he wraps his arm with yours and drags you away, "I was actually really close this time."

"Yeah, no. You looked like you needed saving. So you're welcome." Taehyung shakes his head, curls swaying, "One day, little butterfly, you'll be free to spill your feelings." He sits you down on the couch next to Namjoon, who thankfully, has his earphones in his ears. Jin had already wandered off to do God knows after his defeat, leaving your brother to fiddle mindlessly with his phone.

You can hear Yoongi moving around in the kitchen, probably still packing away the dishes. Taehyung plops next to you, throwing his legs over yours and almost knocking Namjoon's phone out his hands. He starts up the game after passing you a remote, smiling at you, "He'll probably come over here to watch the game, so I'll lose and he could play against you, yeah?"

"Tae..." You groan, tilting your head back, and he pats your arm in a friendly manner, though a little firm in his delivery.

"If you don't tell him now that's fine..." He points at Namjoon with a tilt of his chin, trying to remind you of your brother's presence without being obvious. "But at least you could spend time with him. Never know what could happen." He wiggles his eyebrows.

Evidently, Taehyung's the only person who knows about that night with Yoongi. He was the one who picked you up from his apartment after all, firing question after question and not giving you room to breathe. Though he was a tad upset that he wasn't your first call when you were stranded, he understood why you'd called Yoongi. At the same time, he gave you an earful about just leaving the man hanging after you kissed him. Something you shouldn't have done in that moment, lord knows what Yoongi thinks of you now.

You've tried and failed so many times to tell Yoongi that you weren't as drunk as you seemed that night three months ago, you knew what you were doing. You were hurt, yes, but it was more out of realisation. Your relationship with your ex had been rocky at best, you'd given into his advances to hopefully put your crush on Yoongi behind you. It was easy at first, to have someone to put your focus on and give yourself to rather than to waste it on someone who didn't see you the way you saw him.

Yoongi has always seen you as his best friend's sister, nothing more. And you'd kissed him that night hoping that even for a second he'd realise, but he pushed you away and you knew there was no use hoping.

Even now, embarrassment still burns at your chest when you think about it, because what were you thinking? You'd left without saying anything to him because you were positively mortified. There were hundreds of unfinished texts that started and ended the same, with you contemplating if you should tell him or not.

More often than not, a tipsy night would find you huddled under your sheets with your finger hovering over Yoongi's contact.

It was more likely that he still saw you as the fresh out of highschool kid who followed him and your brother everywhere.

You groan loudly at your own thoughts, and Taehyung turns his head, looking between you and the TV screen, "Uh....You can play Toad if you want.."

"Huh?" The choose your character screen is up, idle, waiting for you to move your joystick around. Taehyung's already picked, "No, it's not that. I don't even like Toad, you can play him."

"That's the rudest thing that's ever come out of your mouth." Taehyung pokes your side with a finger, "What's on your mind?"

"Everything." You sigh, scrolling around to pick a random character. Don't get it wrong, you love Mario Kart as much as the next guy, but right now your mind was far, far away from this moment and the game.

Taehyung pats your thigh, "Maybe losing will help." He snickers, just as the game starts up.

"Oh, you're on." You're not gonna lose, no matter how confident Taehyung is, no one could beat you at Mario Kart.

"Cheater! TaehYUNG. Joon tell Tae to stop do- You're cheating!"

"It's literally impossible to cheat at this game!"

Yoongi leans back against the island counter, content to watch you crash and burn as Taehyung wins yet another race. His victory laugh is deep, almost unheard under the sound of your indignant screeching. The rest of the boys gathered to see what you were yelling about, finding the sight of your losing streak more than entertaining.

Yoongi had paused only for a moment, making a light snack that everyone could enjoy if they wanted to, though, it was only an excuse to make your favourite. He watches as you scoot to the edge of the couch, he can't see your expression, but he doesn't doubt that you're pouting with the cute furrow of your brows that comes with your concentration.

"Namjoon." You whine to your brother, though Namjoon's hands fly up into the air, phone and all.

"Nope, leave me out of this."

"But he's cheating!"

"I'm not! You just suck."

Yoongi picks up the tray of Hotteok as soon as everyone calms down, carrying it over to the group. He rests the tray down on the coffee table, careful to move quickly so he doesn't block the screen for too long.

"Oh! Sweet! Thanks Yoongi." Namjoon is the first to move, leaning forward to grab one.

"Wait, Joon. They're ho-" Yoongi snaps his mouth shut as Namjoon has already picked it up. He promptly drops it, pulling air through his teeth before blowing on his fingertips.

"Ow." Namjoon pouts at his fingers, rubbing them against the material of his grey sweats.

Yoongi sighs, "Be careful, would you?" He focuses on the TV screen, you're directly behind Taehyung, throwing a blue shell that sends him skidding off the road just in time for you to cross the finish line.

"Ha!" You push at Taehyung's shoulder in your excitement, sending him against Namjoon, who drops his Hotteok on the floor.

Namjoon stares forlornly at the pancake for a quiet moment, while you do a victory wiggle in your place, his misfortune ignored.

"Well there you go, who wants to play?" Taehyung asks, glancing around the room. Jungkook waves his arm, getting up from his space on the floor by Hoseok's legs to totter over. "Yoongi! Nice of you to volunteer."

"What? I didn't...?" Yoongi stares at Taehyung like he's sprouted a second head.

Taehyung ignores him.

"Hey I wanted to play..." Jungkook whines, Taehyung ignores him, too.

"Guys, let's go take a nap in the bunk room." He stretches his long legs over Namjoon's, pulling him up by the arms and shares a look with Jungkook who was likely, as confused as everyone else.

"I'm not tired, though. I napped when I got here." Hoseok pipes up, pressing his lips together when Jimin not so subtly nudges his side with an elbow.

"Let's go take a nap." Taehyung repeats, eyes narrowing slightly at Hoseok. He relents under Taehyung's gaze, sighing as he stands and drags Jimin and a complaining Jungkook.

Taehyung smiles brightly, dropping his hands heavily on Yoongi's shoulders. Yoongi doesn't know what the kid's playing at, but allows him to direct him to sit next to you.

Yoongi shares a look with Seokjin, who shrugs and stands to leave too, linking his arm with Namjoon, "I found a book I think you'd like Joon. But we have to look for it, it's lost in my bedroom somewhere..."

"Oh...Kay? Sure."

Their voices trail off as they head up the stairs, and Taehyung waves as he backs out of the living room, with a sweet - suspicious - boxy smile."Have fun you two!"

"Okay what the hell." Yoongi mutters, turning his head to look at you. You didn't look his way, staring dead ahead at the TV, fingers tapping lightly at the control.

He hears you take a breath, "Wanna play Toad?"

"Uh...sure."

A few minutes go by before Yoongi could finally relax, getting comfortable on the couch focusing on the game and not the fact that you're less than a metre away from him. You're nibbling on a piece of hotteok, a little too quiet for Yoongi's liking. He was expecting you to be yelling because he's way ahead of you.

"So...can I ask you a question?" Yoongi keeps his eyes on the screen as he asks, afraid to look at you because he might slip up or stop all together. He could already hear the little voice in his head screaming at him to shut up. "I just wanna ask about...what you wanted to tell me in the kitchen?"

Yoongi doesn't normally pry, people's business are theirs and not his. But curiosity is driving him up a wall and he just needs to know. Maybe he was being foolishly hopeful again, thinking that whatever it was had something to do with him. That's why you hadn't said anything when Taehyung interrupted, right?

Yoongi wonders what Taehyung's deal was, first he was being too clingy with you - not that it's any of his business - and now he's acting so painfully obvious; trying to get you both in a room alone. It didn't go over Yoongi's head, as not a lot of things do.

He purposely lets you win the race, though, your victory was unsounded as you set the controller aside. "Right... kitchen..."

"You know you could tell me anything, right?" Yoongi says softly, fingers just wanting to reach for yours, if just to offer comfort. He tucks them against his palm though, and into the pouch of his sweater for an extra precaution.

"Yeah I know," You smile faintly, "like old times right?"

"Yeah exactly, and I won't judge, you know that. So whatever it is, just say it."

Maybe his words were a bit harsh? You stiffen a bit in place, sighing through your nose before you turn to look at him. The determination from earlier is back in your eyes again, and Yoongi finds it impossible to hold your gaze, and he's the first to look away this time. Keep it together, will you?

He feels heat climbing his neck, racing to each of his cheeks and he hopes to god you just think he's going pink because it's cold in here. Seokjin really needs to get that crappy heater fixed so Yoongi can blame something if you ask about it.

"Okay so remember the time when you-"

"You two are being awfully quiet." Seokjin pokes his head into the room, staring at you both, but not too long, before his eyes find the tv screen. "Oh, Yoongi, did you win?"

"No..." Yoongi sighs, watching as you shut him out once more.

"Really? It was so quiet..."

You make an offended sound in the back of your throat, straightening a bit to glare at Seokjin.

"Yoongi, can you help me with the firepit?"

Yoongi follows Seokjin outside along the wrap-around porch, the sun was halfway in its descent, painting the sky in a flurry of soft colours. The lake glistens with amber crystals, catching the sun's sleepy gaze as it drifts slowly off behind the hills; almost out of sight.

The sunken fire pit was in the backyard, something Yoongi helped Seokjin install last year. He's quite proud of it really, he did most of the heavy lifting while Seokjin stood around telling him how and where he wanted things like a glorified dictator.

As Seokjin gathers the firewood and steps down the three steps to throw the logs into the firepit, Yoongi realises that he didn't actually need any help.

"Watching you try to talk to Y/n is so painful. Like that time I broke my arm but worse."

"I actually wasn't doing the talking." Yoongi grumbles, enjoying the satisfying crunch of gravel under his sandals as he walks over to the cushioned semi circle bench and sits to watch Seokjin do all the work. "You have terrible timing."

Seokjin scoffs, shaking his head, "It's a wonder Namjoon hasn't figured it out yet...you're so obvious."

Yoongi feels like Seokjin just isn't listening to him, continuing his mission of getting the fire going; his words completely ignored.

"Joon is oblivious sometimes."

"You are too."

"Here, this one's longer."

Yoongi watches as Seokjin trades wires with Jungkook, patting him on the shoulder as the younger man happily sticks his marshmallow on the end of his wire. As usual when they're all together, there's laughter in the air, and the lightness Yoongi feels in his chest is something he misses when he's alone.

He watches the moon rise behind the trees, full and glowing brightly in the cloudless sky. The fire was warm, the burning wood crackling softly, sending little glowing sparks up into the air. Everyone had their own bag of marshmallows for toasting, with chocolate and biscuits for s'mores.

"This is nice," Hoseok comments, smacking Jimin's hand away from the smores he was setting up, tucking them into the corner of a small bowl he brought. Jimin gets one anyway; sneaking it away while Hoseok wasn't looking.

"Yeah, we haven't done this in forever." Namjoon sticks the wire with his marshmallow a little too close to the fire.

"It's gonna burn if you do it like that." Yoongi reaches over and raises Namjoon's hand higher.

"When it's burnt it's the best, though."

"Are you a sadist?" Taehyung frowns at Jungkook, "it's better when it's just a little toasty."

"It won't melt inside if you play kiss and tell with the fire. You gotta burn it." Jungkook's marshmallow was just on the edge of charred and Yoongi watches with mild disgust as he smushes the thing between pieces of chocolate and unsweetened biscuits. He shoves the entire thing in his mouth and closes his eyes, moaning around the treat like it's the best thing he's ever tasted.

"Um? There's no way you're enjoying that." Hoseok didn't try to hide how he felt about it, narrowing his eyes at Jungkook. "Stop moaning like that!"

"I wasn't moaning!"

"Yes you were!"

Yoongi shakes his head, turning to look at you, who sat next to him, eating out of your own bag of marshmallows. The wire Seokjin had given you is still in your lap, untouched.

"Want me to make one for you?" He asks softly, already sticking a marshmallow on his wire. He hangs it over the fire and twirls it so it gets nice and brown, "Do you want it with the cookies?"

"Yeah, thanks." You smile sweetly at him, and Yoongi feels his heart stutter in his chest.

Once he's finished assembling the s'more, he hands it over to you. You take a bite out of it, and Yoongi struggles to breathe the very next second at the sound you make, turning his head swiftly to stare into the fire as though it would save him.

"Dude, Y/n. That's gotta be the best s'more ever created." Taehyung says, snickering from across the firepit, "Yoongi make me one, too!"

"You can make it yourself." Yoongi's cheeks flush, passing you a bottle of water when you choke.

"I wanna make happy noises, too."

When the fire in the pit smolders and the embers of the wood burn orange, everyone is ready to call it a night. The younger ones escape to the second floor bunk room first, Seokjin and Hoseok right behind them.

Hoseok is trying to convince Seokjin to flip a coin for the master bedroom while they go up the stairs.

"Owner's rights, Hobi."

"You have any idea what it's like to share a bathroom with those three? Have a heart!"

Their voices fade, and Yoongi is left standing in the entryway with you and Namjoon, feeling awkward and not quite sure what he should do with his hands. So he shoves them in the pockets of his sweatpants, and drags his feet towards the kitchen, suddenly thirsty.

You and Namjoon are talking in hushed tones, too quiet for him to hear, but he pays it no mind, it isn't his business, really.

You come in a second later, moving to the fridge just as Yoongi moves past you, and he's a little curious, a little worried, because you look a bit upset. There's a frown tugging at the corner of your mouth as you crack open a bottle of water.

"Everything okay?" Yoongi asks softly, fingers just itching to reach out for you, but he holds his own bottled water a little tighter instead.

"Yeah...Joon is just..." You shake your head, "Are you staying up to watch the movie with us?"

Your change of subject didn't surprise Yoongi, you've been doing that a lot today. He lifts his shoulder in a shrug, "I might...do you want me to?"

Yoongi would give you anything you ask for right now, hell, he'd find a way to pull the moon from the sky if you asked it of him.

"Huh?" Your eyes seems panicked for a second as they dart away to stare off elsewhere. "If you want to, it's up to you really."

"Then I'll watch." He gives an easy smile, "Are you sure you're okay?" He steps closer, a hand meeting your cheek gently, unintentionally and without Yoongi's consent. Simply out of his need to offer you comfort when he can, and maybe it's his wishful thinking, maybe it's that stupid thing called hope again; Yoongi swears you lean into his touch. Your skin is warm, like cooling tea on a winter's morning.

"I'm fine," You're staring at his lips as you say this, and Yoongi's heart skips before it gallops, threatening to burst from his chest. Maybe he's imagining it, but you move a step closer, and he does too, leaning down a bit to meet your height, "I just wanted to.."

Just another inch, if he moves just an inch closer. You're so close now that your exhales mingles with his in the space between you both, he could feel the chill seeping off the bottled water you hold, pressed against his stomach where your hands linger.

Yoongi decides he's not going to be awkward right now, he's going to be brave and just do this. He's going to kiss you and pour everything he feels into it, and hope - prays - that you feel it too.

"Ahem."

You and Yoongi both spring apart like teenagers caught doing something they shouldn't. Yoongi's cheeks are heating up too quickly for him to stop it, and yours are too, and he doesn't want to turn around because he knows who's behind him.

Think fast, Yoongi. Think.

"I hope your eye feels better. You should kiss - rinse! Rinse with warm water. 'Cause you know...germs...could uh.... get in there.... "

Really? Yoongi squeezes his eyes shut, already anticipating his death when he turns to face the grim reaper behind him.

Namjoon stands in the kitchen doorway, eyebrow raised, doing that thing he does with his jaw. Yoongi feels a little faint, looking at the ugly painting Taehyung convinced Seokjin to buy and hang up in the living room over his head.

"Y/n had something in her eye and I was just checking." He looks back at you and you look just as confused as he's feeling, smiling though, as if his misery is funny to you. "R-remember. Warm water, okay?"

With that he leaves, not looking at Namjoon, who's gaze he could feel at the back of his head.

"Joon, are you serious?" Your voice was a harsh whisper, a little loud in the silence of the kitchen.

Yoongi walks away, hands in his pockets, not catching Namjoon's reply as he makes his escape. What the fuck was that?

"Let's watch The Conjuring."

"Fuck that." Hoseok puts his palms up, "Unless you're willing to cuddle me to sleep, we're not watching that movie."

A chorus of groans fills the room, "For the love of God, just pick something already. Not you, Jungkook."

"It's not my fault Hobi's a coward."

Hoseok's reaches over Seokjin to smack the back of Jungkook's head, who immediately retaliates by hitting Seokjin instead. The three of them trade playful smacks for a moment, while Taehyung and Jimin argue about which movie would be best to watch.

"Okay let's just all pick something." You say, pinching the bridge of your nose between your fingers, "Rock, paper, scissors, whoever wins; we'll watch."

Terrible idea really, everyone knows Jungkook is going to win.

Yoongi opts out, not really caring what goes up on the screen. He's sitting with his hands under his thighs, trying to keep them warm but at the same time, keeping them from doing something stupid. You're right next to him on the couch, he's once again hyper aware of your closeness, the way your arm would brush his every time you moved, the scent of your shampoo, soft and fruit scented.

He focuses on the way a single tear slips from Hoseok's eye, the way he tries to make himself as small as possible on the other couch next to Seokjin with a white knuckled grip on the latter's sweater. Jungkook triumphs in his endeavour of beating everyone who played against him, laughing, carefree and malicious as he pulls up The Conjuring.

Hoseok keeps his head tucked behind Seokjin's shoulder for most of the movie, clinging to him and jumping at every loud sound from the TV; poor guy's going through it.

Yoongi is just barely watching, staring at the screen, but not really following along - he has no idea what's going on. Mind too distracted with the fact that you chose to sit next to him and not next to anyone else. He's still reeling from the incident in the kitchen, glancing at Namjoon who was stuffing his face with popcorn, form outlined in the glow of the tv.

He could feel the warmth of your thigh through his sweatpants, and every little movement you'd make at the jumpscares and the loud sounds.

Hoseok dips halfway through, going up the darkened upstairs hallway with his phone torch on. Jungkook had the audacity to fall asleep, drooling on Seokjin's shoulder and mumbling unintelligible words; unbothered.

"I'm going to bed." Yoongi says to you, not really sleepy, but not interested in the movie enough to stay and watch. You grab at his hand and he pauses, "What?"

"You're leaving me here to suffer?"

"You're a big girl, you can take it." He shrugs, patting your hand before getting up. "Night guys."

Yoongi lays quietly in his bed, staring up at the ceiling with a frown, unable to sleep. He turns his head, looking at the clock that blinks sleepily back at him and sighs, it's getting later into the night and sleep continues to evade him.

The house seemed to have quieted, the sound of Jimin and Taehyung arguing about who gets to use the upstairs bathroom first stopped a while ago, though, the stillness only allowed Yoongi's mind to wander off. He wonders if you're sleeping yet, he knows you have trouble sometimes, a common curse you both share.

He wonders about what you and Namjoon argued about, if it had anything to do with him. God he hopes not. The last thing he wants is for you and your brother to fall out because of him.

There's a soft knock on his door, quiet enough that he almost misses it. Just almost.

Yoongi gets out of bed, dragging his feet to the door. He isn't completely shocked to find you on the other side, looking like you're two seconds from walking away. Your hand still hovers, eyes impossibly big when they meet his in the soft light of the downstairs hallway.

"Hi." You say, softly, hand falling and gripping at the hem of a tee shirt he's sure belongs to Namjoon.

"...Hi?" Yoongi's brows furrow, not quite sure what you're doing knocking on his door at one in the morning, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just wanted to talk to you..." He lets you shuffle into his room, and you walk over to the bed while he closes the door.

"What I wanted to tell you earlier..." You sit on his bed, a good distance away, enough to leave the space between you both cold and Yoongi longing for you to come closer. You seem to be struggling, staying quiet for a little too long.

"Hey." Yoongi calls, "Whatever it is, you can tell me, okay? You know I'd never judge you." He feels the need to repeat himself, just in case you need to hear it again.

"You will." You glance at him, bottom lip caught between your teeth, and you shake your head, "This was stupid..."

"Hey, hey." Yoongi grabs your wrist, stopping you from getting up. "How about I look over there?" He points at a random spot beside him with a thumb, "I won't look at you and you can just say it." He turns for good measure, staring at the wall on the far side of the room.

You're silent for a moment, a long moment that has Yoongi wondering. Maybe he should stop pestering you about it, bury his curiosity - his concern - in a box somewhere to forget about. He's been on your back about it for most of the day, granted, the universe apparently didn't want you to say anything, not with the way you were constantly interrupted every time you tried to talk about it. He should take that as a sign and drop it all together.

"You okay back there?" Yoongi asks softly, turning his head slightly, but not facing you.

"I wasn't really drunk." You say

Confused, Yoongi's brows furrow, "Huh?" He turns to face you, "What are you talking about?"

"The night you picked me up outside that bar." You're not looking at him, instead, you're looking down at your hands in your lap. The events of that night comes rushing to the front of Yoongi's mind, the way you kissed him, how soft your lips were.

"Wait, so..." Something in Yoongi's ears was buzzing, loud and distracting, as realization dawned, he feels a heat rising from his toes. "You-" he stands quickly from the bed, now that he knows exactly why you've been trying to say all day, he thinks he just might lose it.

"Why'd you leave without saying anything?" It's the first thing out of his mouth and Yoongi wishes he'd just shut up.

"I was embarrassed that I just kissed you out of nowhere like that. And you pushed me away, what else was I supposed to do?" You say in a rush, "I know you only see me as Namjoon's little sister."

"I don't." Yoongi says, and at your pause, his palms start to sweat, heart kicking against his ribcage. "Why did you kiss me that night?"

"You probably think it was because I was drunk. That wasn't it." You look him in the eye, "I wanted to."

Yoongi takes a breath and a moment to think carefully about what he's about to say, "Y/n." He runs his palms against his thighs, bottom lip caught between his teeth. "You were drunk. Just out of a relationship and you only kissed me because you were hurting, that's it."

"That's not-" You sigh loudly, pursing your lips and staring at the ceiling, "Do you even know why I dated that idiot? It's because you..." You trail off, picking at a loose thread on your t shirt.

Yoongi waits, giving you the moment you need to gather your words.

"I dated him so that I could forget you." You say softly, not looking at him, and Yoongi feels like he's buffering, like a frozen computer screen. Just standing there as he processes your words, it's taking a while to sink in, or they have, Yoongi is only trying to understand them. "I thought that dating him you would..."

Yoongi sighs, "Tell me something, yeah?"

You nod quietly, waiting. Yoongi watches you for a moment, he's more curious now, "How long?"

He watches as you fluster, eyes darting around to look at anywhere that isn't him. The way your fingers pinch at the dark sheets on the bed, you draw your bottom lip between your teeth and Yoongi just wants to kiss you. But as he's been doing all day, he gives you a moment; Yoongi is nothing but patient.

"Since we met?"

Is that a question? There Yoongi goes buffering again. He blinks a couple of times, mind going through the motions of his forced epiphany. The moments when you used to follow him and Namjoon around, all the staying up late texting as though you both were more than you were at the time.

"I really really like you and I tried to show you that night, but well..."

You get up from his bed with a sigh and step towards him and Yoongi tries his best not to take a step back, he allows you to reach him, to stand close enough for him to touch. He's panicking, on the inside, a voice in the back of his mind telling him that this is a terrible idea and that he should probably stop you.

He can't bring himself to, words stuck in his throat.

You're closer now, Yoongi could feel the warmth of you, and he swears this time that he'll be brave. So he kisses you first, fingers tangling in your hair, a hand gripping your waist to pull you even closer. He feels your hands against his chest as his eyes close, your lips are warm and as soft as he remembers, and he groans at the taste of you. His tongue finds yours, slowly, sliding against yours and he wants to savour this, commit your every sound to memory. Yoongi groans when your hands slide into his hair, tugging lightly at the nape of his neck.

He pulls back for air, lungs trying to take in as much air as possible, too quickly, he feels lightheaded. But that could just be because of you. He presses a fleeting kiss at the corner of your mouth, nose brushing against yours lightly. He's pretty sure this is what being high feels like, the rushing of his blood in his ears and the tingling at the tips of his fingers.

"You're gonna end me." Namjoon will too. The thought alone was enough to make Yoongi pause, realise the grip he had on your hips. One of his hands is just shy of the exposed skin under your tee shirt, hyper aware of the way your chest is pressed to his, your lips on his neck.

Namjoon is going to kill him.

He feels your teeth nip at the skin of his neck and he hisses between his teeth, your tongue follows. He pulls away, pushing you from him gently to take a couple steps back. He sees the question in your eyes, the soft furrow of your brows. He sighs through his nose, thinking about how much of a terrible idea this was, and how Namjoon would very likely drown him in the lake.

"Y/n...we can't." This was the reason he pushed you away the first time. Yoongi likes to think ahead, think about all the outcomes of a situation before he walks into it. This could go two ways, and Yoongi's mind can only focus on the worst scenario. What if this goes wrong? What if doing this now ruins everything, he'd not only lose you, but Namjoon as well.

He sees your pout and he looks away, wondering why he can't just let it happen and deal with the consequences later. But Yoongi isn't like that. He likes to sit and over think things.

"Is this about Namjoon?"

Yoongi startles at your question, jolting a bit as he drops his hands from your waist, fingers curling against his palm. He's not as good at hiding his thoughts as he presumed, or you just knew him too well for his own good. He answers your question with a silent nod, not meeting your eyes in the darkness of his room.

"Yoongi. He wouldn't care. Namjoon can't do anything, what I do isn't his business."

Yoongi goes to argue that that's not the point. You were so off the mark that he almost laughed, Namjoon wouldn't care what you thought. He wouldn't be able to look past Yoongi even thinking about touching you. So much for being brave.

You sigh, and Yoongi catches the hurt in the sound.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't push me away again, please." You reach for him and Yoongi doesn't stop you, because he can; he doesn't want to. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to."

"Are you sure?" He asks seriously, catching your wrist, ducking his head so that he could meet your eyes properly, "Tell me now that this is okay because when I start I won't stop."

You barely got to nod before Yoongi was kissing you again, pouring everything he had into it, hands moving down to grip at your ass in your cotton shorts. He takes careful steps, walking you backwards towards the bed.

"Just let me take care of you, yeah?" Yoongi gently pushes you back onto the bed, taking his time to strip you out of your clothes. Not letting his worries and doubts stop him from telling you how beautiful you are, or from kissing every inch of skin revealed to his eyes.

He kisses his way down your thighs once your shorts and panties are out of the way, stopping every now and then to nibble at the soft flesh. Your little sighs and moans are something he wants to record and keep with him forever, even though he wouldn't need them to remember.

He touches you lightly, just to tease, sliding his hands down your thighs, eyes locked on your glistening pussy. He wants to draw this out, ignoring your impatient whine and the rise of your hips at his touch. He's waited so long for this, wanting to taste you beyond the kiss you shared so long ago, Yoongi wants to make you beg. Reduce you to a mumbling mess of incoherent words, but at the same time, he too is impatient.

He shushes you gently at your call of his name, fingers parting your folds and watching the way your pussy clenches around nothing at his gaze. "So pretty, baby."

It was your only warning before he dove in, licking a board stripe from your engerance to your clit, focusing the tip of his tongue at the bundle of nerves. You suck in a sharp breath, hand tugging at his hair and it only spurs Yoongi on. He sucks gently in your clit, tongue moving in slow figures and dips a finger into your wet heat. He groans at the way your cunt just sucks him in, arousal dripping down his hand and he adds another, curling them against the soft spot within you.

He looks up at you, past your heaving chest to your fucked out face. Your parted lips, furrowed brows, glazed eyes looking back at him.

"Yoon--fuck."

Yoongi groans lowly in his throat, pressing his tongue flat against your clit, mouth flooding with your taste. He'd stay there forever if you gave him the chance, listening to the way your breath hitches and the sound of your moans and the feeling of your fingers in his hair. He wraps his lips around your clit and sucks harshly. He drives his tongue inside you, and the whine that leaves you has him rutting his hips against the bed. He can't get enough of your taste, the way your pussy clenches he's around his fingers.

"You taste so good, baby." Yoongi loves the way you grip at his hair, the way you tug sends tingles down his spine. He thrusts two fingers inside you, crooking them right, hitting the spot that sends your moans into a higher octave. He can't be bothered with how loud you're being, or if anyone's awake right now and would know exactly what you're both up to. You don't seem to care either, too lost in the pleasure; moaning his name.

"F-fuck, right there," you whimper, thighs tensing around his head. Yoongi groans as he obeys, crooking his fingers and rubbing at the spot that makes you sing so sweetly. His lips never leave your clit, tongue swirling around the swollen nub in figure eights. Dragging his fingers within the tightness of your dripping heat, he could tell you're close, feeling the way your thighs tremble. "Fu-"

Your back arches off the sheets, and Yoongi moans when your release gushes out of you and into his mouth. He stays there and takes it all, until you push at him instead of pull and Yoongi lets up, running his hands up your sides in an attempt to soothe as you tremble in the after wave. "You doing okay?"

"Yeah," you squeak out and Yoongi chuckles, getting up to sit back on his thighs. He watches you for a moment, watching the way your chest heaves with your every breath, your hair a tangled mess against his pillows. His eyes trail your form, down to the mess between your thighs that twitched at his attention.

"Sure? You good to go on?" He asks to be sure, squeezing your hip gently. You nod, reaching for him and he goes without complaint, caging you within his arms and kisses you slowly. His tongue tangles with yours, and he grinds his hips down against yours, seeking friction for his aching cock, dampening the front of his sweatpants.

"Fuck that feels so good." He groans, sucking bruises into the soft skin of your neck. He angles his hips so that the length of his cock rubs directly against your clit, shuddering, it feels so good and Yoongi can't stop. He slows down though, because he could feel his release racing down his spine. "Fuck, baby."

"Wanna..." You push at his shoulders, "Wanna suck your cock." Your hands are at the drawstrings of his sweatpants already, tugging, "Wanna taste you, too."

"Fuck, okay."

Yoongi gets off the bed to shuck off his sweats, cock springing free, red and pulsing, precum beading at the tip. He chuckles at your facial expression, eyes surprised even though your bottom lip is caught between your teeth. He notes the way your eyes follow the movement of his hand, he grips his cock and squeezes, thumb catching the translucent drop and dragging it down his shaft.

"You're big."

"Good for you, then?" He pumps his shaft slowly, whispering curses under his breath.

You roll your eyes, "It wouldn't have mattered if-"

"Shh." Yoongi shushes and crooks the fingers of his free hand at you, "Come here."

He leans down to grab a pillow behind you, pausing, "Where's comfortable for you?"

"Wherever you want me," you say sweetly, and it would've been cute with the way you smile, if it wasn't for the look in your eyes. For a moment Yoongi feels like he's in for way more than he bargained for, with you looking so pretty, alluring, like a succubus ready to siphon his soul. Such a far contrast from the you of earlier, fumbling with your words and flushing under his gaze.

"This isn't about me." Yoongi swallows, "Are you kneeling or do you wanna stay on the bed?"

"I'll stay here." You make yourself comfortable, propping up on your elbows, and Yoongi passes you the pillow to help you reach his hips in your position. You slide the pillow under your chest, already reaching for him before he steps closer and Yoongi sucks in a sharp breath when your smaller hand wraps around his cock.

You mirror his motions from before, pumping slowly and Yoongi's not sure if you're teasing him or not. Tongue snaking out to kitten lick at the head, you swirl it around before taking it into your mouth.

"Ah fuck." Yoongi throws his head back, a hand finding your hair as you take him slowly to the back of your throat. He feels your exhales against his tummy, just barely, his mind too muddled to focus on anything but the warmth of your throat and the wiggling of your tongue under his shaft. "You're doing so good, baby."

You hum a gurgle of a word Yoongi would probably never decipher, the vibrations around the head of his cock has him tugging lightly on your hair and pulling out and away from your mouth, breathing hard. He'd be damned if he comes so quickly, that shit will probably haunt him for the rest of his life.

There's a string of spit connecting your lips to his cock, and you smile like the minx you are, not letting him get far enough away before you're taking his cock into your mouth again, bobbing your head at a quick pace. Yoongi could cry, he's trying so hard, there's sweat dripping from his hair, you're pulling him closer, taking him deeper and his eyes roll back.

"Shit. Slow down." His words trail off in a moan, and he's unable to help the rolling of his hips, thrusting his cock into the warmth of your throat, gently, mindful of your breathing. You swallow and he swears, thighs tensing and he stops, pulling away again to release a stuttered exhale. Leaning down, he kisses you, licking into your mouth with haste, tasting himself on your tongue. "Wanna fuck you." He breathes against your lips, releasing your hair for you to scoot back up the bed.

He's quick to follow, slotting his hips between your thighs, stopping to map bruises against the skin of your chest. He laves his tongue over a nipple, fingers toying with the other, he takes the pebbled bud into his mouth just to hear you make a pretty sound.

"Yoongi." You whine his name, and Yoongi doesn't waste another second, hooking one of your knees over his elbow, other hand guiding his cock to your wet cunt. He stays there for a moment, tapping his cock against your clit just to watch you squirm. You raise your hips to meet his teasing thrusts and Yoongi chuckles, easing back to slowly drag his cock down your slit until it prods at your entrance.

He slowly presses into you, watching the way your pussy sucks him in, arousal coating his cock. "You're so fucking tight." Yoongi stills, gripping your hips, watching you through a lust filled haze. He thrusts shallowly into you until he bottoms out and stills, free hand squeezing your hip gently. He swipes his tongue over his thumb, pressing the digit against your clit to rub in slow circles, "Relax for me, baby."

When he feels your body relax around him, he moves, setting a slow pace to start, leaning down to slot his lips over yours, swallowing the sounds you made. You arms wrap around his neck, nails scraping red, angry lines at his shoulder blades. The pain only heightens the pleasure he feels, crossing his eyes and curling his toes.

"Fuck." Yoongi bites gently on your earlobe, "You're so good for me baby. So fucking good. Taking my cock so well."

He knows you're getting tired of his pace. You're lifting your hips to meet his thrust, moaning helplessly into his ears. "Want more, baby?" He leans back in time to catch your nod, kiss swollen bottom lip caught between your teeth. He grips your hips again, keeping you from moving, and slows down just to watch you squirm and beg for him.

"Ple-fuck. Jus-" your words cut off with a gasp, hands gripping Yoongi's wrists where he holds you. He sets a punishing pace, the sound of his thighs hitting your ass loud in the quiet of the room. "Oh F-fuck, Yoongi."

"This what you wanted, hmm?" He tilts his head at you, one eyebrow raised, sliding a hand up your sweat slicked skin to cup your jaw, you take his thumb into your mouth and Yoongi's cock pulses with the need for his release. He smirks, pressing his thumb down on your tongue, pace never faltering, his nerves are on the edge of frying, orgasm tingling at the end of his spine. Pulling his hand away from your mouth and presses his thumb against your clit, looking down at the way his ccok, covered in your arousal, disappears inside you.

Yoongi groans, the sound rumbling in his chest, feeling your pussy clenching around his cock, squeezing tight as your breath hitches. "Ah--fuck I'm gonna-"

"Yeah? Come for me, baby." As your body tenses and tremble, Yoongi chases his end, hips stuttering and he gasps, cock throbbing in time with his heartbeat as his release spills into you. "Oh fuck."

Head light and ears ringing, Yoongi kisses you, it's more tongue than anything else, but he doesn't care. He does his best to keep the full weight of him off you, peppering kisses along your jaw. He feels your every breath and his sweat cools on his skin, "You okay?"

There's sweat burning his eyes and he squints at you as you push his hair back and away from his face, you're smiling and giggling shyly. Like if he told you a joke and didn't just fuck you nine ways to hell. "I'm perfect."

He presses a kiss to your cheek, leaning back up again to carefully slip his softening cock out of your still pulsing walls. His release comes flowing out not two seconds after, he watches with his bottom lip between his teeth, cock giving an interested twitch.

Yoongi gets up before he starts something again, because he just might die trying to go through a second round so quickly. "Don't move, I'll be right back."

He looks around on the floor for where he left his sweatpants, he puts them on and shuffles quickly to the door. He only realises just how quiet it is now that it's quiet, he realises how loud the two of you were being.

He goes back to you with a warm, damp washrag, finding you close to falling asleep. He cleans you up anyway, mindful of your sensitivity.

When he's done he watches you for a moment, fingers finding yours first. Mindlessly he fiddles with them and reaches for his discarded shirt and passes it to you, releases your hand only for you to put it on. "We probably could've done this sooner." You say softly, smiling.

Yoongi tilts his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, "What? The sex or...?"

You lightly swat his arm, "You know what I mean."

"I do." Yoongi presses a kiss to your wrist, sighing when you gently lay that palm against his cheek. He believes that action speaks volumes and there's no need for words, but he realises that he hadn't said it back to you earlier. Though, he was very much distracted and his thoughts were absent. "I like you too...alot...just in case that wasn't clear."

He shifts on the bed to be closer to you and leans his head on your shoulder, "I'm sorry it took me so long. It takes me a while to come to terms with things. I overthink and make things harder for myself, I wasn't sure if this was the right way to go."

You hum softly, breath tickling his ears, "It's okay. I suck too. We could've avoided the run around if I'd just told you."

"Yeah, you're terrible. I had no idea what to do with your smoke signals." Yoongi raises his head, chuckling. Leaning over, he presses a kiss to your forehead and tilts your chin to kiss you softly. "Can I take you out? When we get back."

"Yeah, I'd like that."

Yoongi smiles, feeling like a kid and nudges you softly, "Go pee. I'll strip the sheets, go on."

He watches as you walk on wobbly legs till you reach the door and pause, turning your head to watch him with wide eyes, "you don't think they heard us, do you?"

"Nah, they're asleep."

"Dude, whoever was watching their porn so loudly last night, fuck you. Honestly, the lack of respect in this household."

It's the first thing Jimin says when he comes downstairs the next morning, looking like he'd slept on the wrong side of the bed. Eyes swollen as he takes the coffee Seokjin offers and the sympathetic pat to his shoulder.

Yoongi ignores the conversation, even though you looked like you were about to combust next to him. Seokjin was giving him a look from his spot by the stove, looking ridiculous in the pink apron he favoured.

"Yeah the walls are so thin in here it's wild." Seokjin wiggles his eyebrows at Yoongi and you choose that moment to choke on your sip of orange juice.

Taehyung pauses, fork halfway to his mouth with a strip of bacon hanging for dear life at the end of it. He looks between the both of you for a quiet moment, strong brows furrowed until something lights in his eyes. "Oh my god."

Jimin, who's slumping in his seat, looking like he wanted nothing more than to crawl his way back upstairs perks up at Taehyung's words, "What?"

Yoongi stares silently at Taehyung, daring him to open his big mouth and say exactly what he definitely wants to say.

"Nothing. Nothing...." Taehyung waves his hand with the fork, sending the piece of bacon flying off it and into his glass of orange juice. Jimin watches on with disgust as Taehyung fishes the piece out of the cup and tosses it into his mouth.

"The bin is right there."

"Are you drinking the juice?"

Yoongi runs circles into the skin of your knee, as Taehyung and Jimin bicker.

"Oh, Joon. Come eat." Seokjin wanders over to the entrance and Yoongi just barely catches the sight of Namjoon passing by, saying that he was going for a walk first. Hoseok and Jungkook enter just then, finding their spots at the table as Seokjin sets plates for them.

"I'll be right back." Yoongi says softly, pressing a kiss to your temple, leaving Jimin sputtering into his coffee. He pushes his chair back and stands, catching the way Hoseok squints at you.

He points, not saying anything before he leans around Taehyung to smack at Jimin's arm, "I told you so! You owe me fifty."

"Bold of you to assume I came here with money."

"You guys made a bet?" You ask, incredulous.

"Yeah. It's either someone was watching porn, or someone was getting it. You and Yoongi are the only ones not sharing a room..."

Hoseok voice fades as Yoongi shuts the front door behind him. It's cold, mist and dew clinging to the world and Yoongi regrets leaving his sweater in his room. He rubs his hands over his arms, the long sleeves of his t shirt barely keeping him warm.

Namjoon's already walking, a good distance from the house near the lake's edge. Yoongi takes his time walking over, gravel crunching under his feet, he slots his hands into his pockets to keep them warm.

When he reaches Namjoon, the younger man is crouched down, cooing at something on the ground. There's a little crab scurrying around trying to get away from Namjoon's curious fingers.

"Just let the little guy be." Yoongi announces himself, "Thing's probably scared shitless."

"I just wanna pick him up, though," Namjoon continues to try, sighing when the little crab escapes into the lake. "Oh well.." He dusts his hands and stands up, finally looking over at Yoongi.

"Aren't you cold?" He asks, and remembering he's standing out in a tshirt and sweats, Yoongi shivers. Namjoon looks all cozy in his beige sweater and matching beanie.

"I wanted to run something by you." Yoongi says, looking out at the lake and the way the light of the morning sun glitters against the still waters. He shoves his cold hands into the pockets of his pants, rubbing his thumb over his curled fingers. He realised that this is going to be as hard as trying to talk to you, and Namjoon waits patiently, watching Yoongi with eyes that seemed to know too much.

"Uh.." Yoongi chances a look, glancing at Namjoon who's just as quiet as him, waiting. "Look man, Y/n and I had a talk last night."

"Right?" Namjoon gives him a look, a confused one, head tilting and all.

Yoongi takes a breath and decides to go headfirst, though he takes a step back from Namjoon to be sure. "I really like your sister and we talked about it and I just wanted you to know that."

The uncomfortable look that morphs Namjoon's features wasn't what Yoongi was expecting, especially since the look stays there for a while as Namjoon just stares at him. He raises a hand to scratch at his cheek, "Dude."

"What?"

"Are you saying that I owe Hoseok fifty dollars?"

"...Eh?" Yoongi's confused, and it feels as though he's spent this whole weekend running on pure confused energy. Namjoon shakes his head, laughing in a way that makes Yoongi take another step back.

"I know. You two are terrible at hiding shit." Namjoon points his thumb over his shoulder, back at the house where he glances. From where he stands, he could see Seokjin, Taehyung and Jimin peering out through the window. "I know my sister, and I know my best friend. You guys are adults, so, really, there's nothing I can do but watch it happen."

Namjoon shrugs, and Yoongi flushes, cheeks heating. "But when I met her...you...you gave me a look."

"I was trying to ask if you wanted water!"

"That was not a 'do you want water' look, Joon."

Namjoon reaches over and pats his shoulder softly, hand lingering, "You have my blessing, if that's what you came to ask for." He smiles, eyes disappearing, but Yoongi's relief is cut short when he tries to shift away, Namjoon's grip tightening. "Though, she's still my little sister. I know where you live."

Yoongi chuckles, a little scared.

"Good talk." Namjoon nods to himself, "I'm going inside. Get out of the cold!"

Tagging: @madbutgloriouspond @blog-name-idk @taestefully-in-luv @btsstan12 @hamsterclaw @allhobbitstoisengard @dontstoptime @doneimnida @here2bbtstrash

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velvetm00light · 5 months

Text

Peace

photos: pinterest dividers: @benkeibear, @mariariley, @haerinism

Word Count: 3.4k

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: Y/n's dog tackles a handsome stranger in Central Park. As her and the stranger spend the rest of the afternoon getting to know each other, they part too soon and without even telling each other their names. The solution appears quickly in the form of a handsome, lanky man appearing at her apartment the next morning.

Warnings: fluff!!!! pretty much it i think

A/N: I accidentally posted this on my primary that I don't use a few days ago so I decided to just reupload it here. Thought ya'll deserved a cute one. <3 Enjoy!!!

THE GOLDEN LEAVES RUSTLED along the cracked sidewalk, towering mixtures of trees loomed overhead, their branches reaching for each other, the Creation of Adam painting itself in the nature around her. Her charcoal boots thudded lightly, the sound overtaken by the rush of bicycles and the flutter of passing conversations as she strolled through Central Park. The leash in her hand was rough against her soft palms. The dog at her side trotted happily, smiling at the strangers rushing past.

As a native to New York, the city specifically, she made a habit of spending most of the daylight she could spare exploring the park. A habit that proved almost impossible to break because no matter how many times her feet walked the same sidewalk, her eyes took in the same leaves in all seasons - lush green in the spring and summer, amber and fiery red in the autumn, and withered and crunchy spread across the sidewalks and grass in the winter - there was no where else she could truly feel peace.

Peace has been a complicated thing to find her entire life. As soon as she felt it in her grasp, it became sand slipping through the cracks between her fingers before she could even close her fist in an attempt to capture as much as she could. But, that sand turned into the soft wool of her favorite coat as she pulled it tighter around her in an attempt to warm herself. Peace became tangible the moment she threw her coat on, strapped on her pup’s harness, and made her way to her safe place.

She was snapped out her thoughts by a sudden yank on her arm, the soft grip on the leash in her hand gave way before she could consider tightening her hand. Her gaze snapped to her now sprinting pup, heading in the direction of a red maple tree just a few yards to the right of the trail they had been walking. She didn’t allow herself time for confusion on why her normally calm and behaved pup had randomly chosen to run off.

Her lungs burned as cold air pressed into her lungs as she ran in the same direction. Her confusion only grew when she neared the maple to see her dog bouncing onto a man sitting against the trunk of the tree, a thick blanket underneath him and the book in his hands flung into the grass. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” She called, slowing her speed as she reached the poor man who was just tackled by her dog. “He’s never done that before.”

“It’s okay,” he chuckled, his hands gliding along his fur, accepting the sloppy kisses attacking his face. “I love dogs.”

She grabbed his book from the dewy grass and laid it on the blanket next to him. “I’m so sorry about your book, it got kind of wet. I’ll give you the money for it,” she apologized, reaching into the pack strapped across her chest to rummage for any loose cash.

“Don’t worry about it, my books are definitely worse for wear normally.” His smile was bright, contagious. A smile crept up on her face, the corners of her lips tugging insistently upward as her hands abandoned her pack.

“Are you sure? I can totally pay you for it. My dog is the reason it got wet.”

“I’m sure. Don’t worry about it.”

The cover of the book she had laid on his blanket was in fact worse for wear. It was curled up at the edges as if this wasn’t the first time it had gotten wet. The spine was so cracked the book almost splayed open just laying on the blanket, the wind a gentle hand trying to pull it fully open.

“I’m glad someone else’s copy of The Fisher King looks similar to mine.” She smiled, her eyes lingering on the blemished book then to his face. Her dog had finally calmed down, splayed next to the stranger with his belly up. He ran slender fingers up and down her pup’s belly.

The first thing that caught her eye was his eyes. There was a flaming halo of amber, with a dirty, leather brown inside. His eyes reminded him of an old leather book - worn with love, pen marks torn through the pages with passion. The sweater vest he was wearing and the circular glasses that sat upon the bridge of his nose established her thought - he just looked like he belonged in a library, reaching for outdated texts, sitting in a poorly lit corner, stacks of books hiding his bowed head from view as he endlessly read books upon books for hours.

His eyes had widened at her statement about his book. “You’ve read The Fisher King?”

She laughed lightly, “Do I not seem like the studious type?”

“I’m just surprised, that’s all.” He smiled up at her from his spot on the blanket. “I’m not sure I’ve ever met anyone who had even heard of it before.”

“Good thing I’m not just anyone.”

He nodded lightly at this, the corner of his lips tugging up so far she thought his jaw might start to hurt.

“I personally like Shadowlands better,” she teased. It wasn’t a lie, however. She had always been a sucker for romances - it certainly raised her standards unrealistically, but it’s not her fault fictional men are so much better than real ones. “And you can never go wrong with Les Misérables but it feels cliché to say that’s my favorite.”

His smile reached his dancing eyes. His fingers still rubbed at her dogs belly almost subconsciously. “You’ve got good taste in books,” he says finally.

“I guess I could say the same for you. Mind if I sit? Since my dog seems insistent on staying here the rest of the day.”

“I don’t mind at all, have a seat.” He pulled his legs up, sitting cross legged instead of stretched out like he had been. She copied his posture as she plopped down on the blanket with him and her attention whore of a dog - understandably, because if she had seen him first, she might’ve just ran over and demanded he touch her too.

“Who’s your favorite author?” She asked, placing her elbow ontop of her knee and resting her chin in her hand. She titled her head to the side, and his smile returned slightly at the image of her - innocent and sweet.

“I could probably list about fifteen.”

“Pick one,” she chuckled.

“Thomas Merton, probably. I’ve got a soft spot for his poetry.”

“Love is our true destiny,” she began. His eyes sparkled as he joined in on her recitement from Love and Living. “We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone - we find it with another.”

“You really are perfect, huh?” He smiled. Resting his head on the bark behind him, his gaze never leaving hers, and the relentless smile still plastered on his face.

“Your words, not mine.” She smiled back, it was impossible not to smile back at him. She felt like the only person in the entire world when he smiled at her, like she was truly the only thing that mattered. A heat bloomed in her neck and rose into her wind-kissed cheeks. She hoped the cold prick of the wind rubbing her cheeks raw hid the redness heating her face.

Their conversation about literature continued, both of them talking animatedly and rushed, as if the amount of time they had with each other would never be enough. It was a shocking revelation for them both to realize how much in common they had and how effortlessly the conversation between them flowed, like they weren’t really strangers at all.

The sun had begun to set, laying over the horizon as if slowing it’s own process down to give them just a little bit longer. The chill had picked up as the sunlight turned into dusk but neither of them really noticed until the park was empty and hungry whines escaped her dog.

“I didn’t even realize we had talked for so long,” she said, a laugh escaping her lips. She just felt so…at peace. Sitting here with him.

“Honestly, me either.” He gave her a sweet smile back and a shrug. Unspoken words hung on his lips, but he decided not to voice them.

“I suppose I should get going,” she started, standing up from the blanket she had sat on for hours, her joints and muscles protesting against the sudden movement.

“Let me walk you home.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.”

“Thank you.”

The stranger gathered his blanket and his book, shoving both in between his arm, following her lead out of the park and towards her apartment. Her teeth chattered so harshly it rattled her skull. The sun had set, becoming impatient waiting for them to finally part.

Without a word, the man her dog had jumped on just a few hours ago unwrapped the blanket from under his arm and laid it across her shoulders. “It might be a little dirty but I put the upside on you.”

“Thank you, my jacket has seen better days anyway,” she smiled, pulling the thick wool around her, engulfing her like a hug. She sighed of relief at the warmth it provided her chilled bones. They walked in easy silence, sneaking occasional glances at each other when the other wasn’t looking.

He was the first one to break the silence. “Have you always lived in the city?”

“Mostly. I grew up just outside of the city but it’s close enough. You don’t look like you grew up in the city,” she teased. Her dog trotting beside her sleepily but eager to get home for dinner. Her grumbling stomach agreed with her dog’s eagerness.

He laughed lightly, “You’re not wrong. I’m from Las Vegas.”

“Wow! That’s really cool actually. I’ve never been out West. Why did you come here?”

“I was tired of it, long story short. But I’ve always loved being in a city, being able to walk mostly everywhere I want to go, the sense of community.”

“Unfortunately, most New Yorkers have no idea what the words community or kindness mean.”

He laughed, nodding in agreement. His laugh was just like his smile - infectious. If he laughed, anyone around him wouldn’t be able to stop themselves from laughing along even if nothing was funny. When he laughed hard, his eyes fluttered shut and he tipped his head back slightly. When he laughed lightly, he had small wrinkles at the side of his eyes, and he always had that toothy grin. It startled her to realize that in the few hours she knew him, she already knew this much about his mannerisms.

Too soon, they reached her apartment building’s door. She fished out her keys from her pack, her pup pushing his head up to the door, ready to kick it down if he had human legs. “Thank you so much again for walking me home. I hope you’re not too far, it’s pretty dark out now.”

“It was no problem, I wanted to make sure you made it safe. Don’t worry about me, I might not look like it but I can put up a fight.”

She smiled at him because he was right. His lanky frame and nerdy look in fact made him look like he didn’t even know how to throw a punch, but who was she to make judgements?

The door unlocked with a click. “Hopefully, we’ll meet again soon,” she smiled, handing him his blanket and heading inside the foyer of her apartment building.

She plopped onto the couch in her cramped living room and let out a sigh she had no idea she was holding in. Then the realization hit her, she didn’t even ask for his name or how to contact him. She groaned. Of course she would be stupid enough to let the only guy she’s had a connection with in years slip through her fingers.

The rising sun shone through her living room curtains, spilling like honey over her face. Her eyes fluttered open, confusion fogging her brain for a moment. She must have fallen asleep on the couch though she wasn’t sure when she even fell asleep. A book laid open, splayed on the hardwood floor next to her couch. This is a familiar scene she sees way more often than she’s willing to admit. There’s no greater way to relax than to read a good book in ambient lighting. It had started raining shortly after she got home last night, the hard patters of rain drops hitting her window. That was enough to cause her to pass out before even finishing a chapter.

She was abruptly snapped out of her daze as her intercom buzzed. Her confusion deepened, completely unsure if she was expecting anyone this morning or if she had overslept and missed a meeting. When the second buzz rang through her apartment, she rushed over to answer it. “Hello?” She said sleepily.

“Hi, I’m sorry uh..I’m the guy your dog tackled in the park yesterday.” If she could see his face, she’s pretty sure he’d have a nervous smile on it. His hand running anxiously through his curls, hoping he buzzed the right apartment and desperately hoping she didn’t feel uncomfortable at him showing up.

“Oh! Hi! Sorry, come on up. I’m in apartment 3B.” She groaned as she realized he probably already knew that, considering he had buzzed her apartment.

She buzzed him in quickly and realized the state she was in. She rapidly ran her fingers through her knotted hair, combing through as many knots as she could in the time it took him to reach her front door. She straightened her clothes, the same ones she had gone to the park in minus the coat hanging by her front door. She rushed over to pick up the book from the floor, setting it gently on the coffee table in the middle of the living room.

A soft knock rattled her front door and she rushed over to it, fixing her hair and clothes again before pulling it open. “Hi,” she breathed, her chest suddenly too tight. She wasn’t sure why she was nervous, he was the one who showed up to her apartment.

“Hi,” he responded, a sheepish smile tugging up the corner of his lips. His hands were shoved into his coat pockets, as if to keep himself from fidgeting in front of her, a feign of confidence. “Sorry for showing up randomly.” He finished quickly, realizing she was waiting for him to explain himself.

“It’s okay, to be fair I did let you walk me home. If I thought you came to kill me you wouldn’t be standing here.”

“Fair enough,” he chuckled. She stepped aside and motioned for him to come inside. He didn’t hesitate to step through the threshold and take in her apartment while she shut the door behind him.

“Your apartment is beautiful, it feels like nature but home.”

“Oh, thank you. That’s actually the best compliment I’ve ever gotten,” she smiled, gazing around her apartment with him. She had a variety of plants scattered around her apartment - large potted plants that reached toward the ceiling in the corners, small plants in decorated pots lining shelves, settled on her coffee table, and even in her kitchen. She always assumed having fresh air to combat the natural stench of New York City was never a bad idea. She had posters and picture frames hung up with precision, decorative throw pillows scattered on her couch from a night tossing and turning, bookshelves filled to the brim with books, plants, and trinkets.

“Make yourself at home,” she said, intending for him to sit on the couch while she made them…tea? She wasn’t really sure what kind of expectations she had as a host. “Do you like tea?”

“Love it.”

“Perfect.” She rummaged through her cabinets in search for tea, it would be slightly embarrassing to have run out of tea bags after she already asked if he wanted tea. Thankfully, she found a few loose boxes of tea and made steaming cups for them both.

She carried the tea out carefully so as to not burn herself or spill any on the floor beneath her bare feet. She gently handed him his cup which he gratefully took and cupped between two palms, waiting for it to cool.

She settled in the seat next to him on the couch, copying his actions and cupping the warm cup between her hands. Her apartment luckily didn’t feel like the outside world with the biting wind and the bone-chilling cold, but, this man’s presence was enough to send a shiver rattling down her spine and goosebumps rising along her flesh.

“Thank you for the tea,” he smiled, delicately blowing on his tea to quicken up the cooling process.

“Of course, I’m sure any normal host would offer tea, it felt like the socially acceptable thing to do.” She gave him a small smile back, just enough to lift the edges of her lips upward, but not enough to bare her teeth.

Her brain still felt rattled at the fact that this stranger she had only met around 24 hours ago had remembered where she lived and showed up to her apartment.

They both took ginger sips of the steaming tea before setting their respective cups on the coffee table. “It’s delicious.”

“Thank you, I don’t make tea often but I’m glad I’m still good at it.”

He chuckled lightly and the sound reverberated around her apartment. Her mind betrayed her and thoughts of that laugh just swimming around her apartment on a regular basis caused an ache in her chest. She hadn’t had a man in her apartment in probably years, most likely for the best.

Her work was her life, she had the terrible habit of drowning in her work when life got rough, or when her feelings got inevitably hurt. She almost wanted to kick this gorgeous man out of her apartment before he could hurt her feelings or disappoint her like the rest.

“I’m sorry for showing up randomly,” he started, rubbing his sweaty palms across the legs of his jeans. “I never got your name or your contact information so I hope I’m not crossing any lines by coming by.”

Despite her better judgment, a smile grew on her face. It really was sweet.

“It’s okay, I’m just surprised.”

“Understandably. I just couldn’t let you slip by,” He said shyly. He grabbed his tea cup again, an attempt to still his fidgeting fingers.

Her breath hitched in her throat. Her mind swam as she attempted to push back her assumptions. It wasn’t every day that a random stranger showed up at her door, a handsome one at that.

She realized she must have been staring wide-eyed at him because he chuckled softly. “I’m sorry if that was a little too forward.”

“Oh! No, it’s okay. I just- What do you mean?”

He ran a hand through his chestnut curls, the other gripped onto the tea cup like his life depended on it. “I just-I’ve never been able to talk to someone like that.”

She nodded slowly - she knew exactly what he meant. She had thought the same thing as she sat on her couch just hours ago, turning the events of their meeting over and over again in head, as if it was a coin in her hand.

“It was just…easy. Peaceful.” He smiled sheepishly. She relaxed into the couch. Peace. It was all she ever wanted in life and she tried tirelessly to keep control of it, to stuff it in a cage and keep it locked up so she could never feel its absence again. With him sitting in her apartment in front of her, she felt like she didn’t even have to try to reach out and grab it, it ran into her arms like a friend.

“I thought the same thing,” she admitted as she fought a smile rising on her lips. The man in front of her didn’t try to hide his relief or the upturn of the corner of his lips.

“That’s relieving.”

“Agreed.”

They smiled at each other for a moment, both in a daze. “I guess we should do a proper greeting this time,” he suggested, holding out his hand in front of her.

She took it with a grin. “Hi, I’m y/n.”

“Hi y/n, I’m Spencer.”

363 notes · View notes

softshuji · 5 months

Text

You and Hanma make a note of your heights when you first move into your apartment.

You're like kids, giggling as you reach above his head to mark it on the kitchen doorframe, a whopping 6'4 that you can just about reach and even then - only on your tip toes. Childishly, he bends down to mark with a pencil where your head touches the frame and you playfully jab his abdomen when he laughs and says 'How do you manage to be this short?'

Decorating takes weeks, months in fact, Between your job and his, the little time you have for homeware shopping- and even still, neither of you are rich enough to have the apartment decked out the way you'd like. You're both young, starting out even and you think this might be the best part, being able to watch him grow and change, small tidbits of furniture here and there, some bought at second hand stores, because you're much more frugal than he is and neither of you care as long as it's for your own home. You save a lot, though your priorities are somewhat different.

He likes to spend on you. Cute dates, flowers, clothes and most of what he earns goes just like that, on you and the dresses and jewelry you make comments about while you're out. He never misses it, and even though you chastise him often for needlessly spending on you, you know this is how he does it, shows his love.

You look at it every day. The little mark you've made on the doorframe, even as it greys, even as it weathers over the months as they lean towards winter and then spring. Maybe it is childish, maybe you don't care either. And you watch him cycle through the various styles, various changes. His hair as it grows longer, a little more boyish and framing his face, the baggy shirts he exchanges for suits sometimes when he leaves for work in the morning.

'Be safe okay?' you say at the door, like as if it'll change anything by itself. You lean up to kiss him, his hand titled 'sin' around your neck, and yours cupping his cheeks and then he is gone, and you wave and watch him leave, backing away from the apartment with the briefcase in the passenger seat.

Sometimes you wonder how the time passes like this. One day you're moving in, and the next your apartment has a fully functioning kitchen-painted and decorated, the little lines on the doorframe now withered to a faded grey under the white gloss paint. To say you're proud of the two of you would be an understatement, especially when you remember at what little you started with.

'I'm home Princess,' he says later and passes through the doorway of the kitchen, where you turn from the sink to him, drying your hands before you melt inevitably in his arms. He is cold, his hands are chilly when they slide under your shirt and you shiver when they rest on the grooves in your back as he takes you in, your warmth seeping into his bones. You have a habit of staying like that for the first five minutes. Needy kisses that turn hotter and heavier, you shrugging his jacket off to roam your touch over his chest- as if you hadn't seen him a few hours ago, as if it's been forever. Maybe because it has.

'Miss me Sweetheart?' he says between breaths, between soft sighs and eager kisses, his hands resting on your hips and pulling you flush against him in the doorway.

'Nah, don't know what gave you that idea,' you say, pulling open his tie, and tossing it onto the sofa for later before resting your cheek on his chest, the rhythmic thump of his heart now beating on your skin.

'Mhm, sure, the evidence suggests otherwise Pretty Girl.' And he runs a hand from the crown of your head to the dip in your shoulders, holding you tight and against him, where he believes you belong.

'Well your evidence is full of-' You pause, your eyes narrowing shrewdly, your gaze lifting from the little mark on the door, to where a curl of his hair grazes a few centimetres above it. 'You're joking...'

'What? What is it?'

'You're kidding me. Are you actually getting taller?' you say aghast, your lips parting, your jaw dropping in a shocked pout.

He raises an eyebrow in amusement, the amber hue of his eyes flitting from the grey and weathered pencil line on the doorframe to you, still leagues shorter than him. 'oh? Maybe I am, so what? Is there an issue with that Princess?' And he leans over the doorway until your crowded underneath his arm, the shadow of him swallowing the light till you're backed against the doorframe.

'N-no, I mean yes there is! Stop being so tall, I'm going to need a stepladder to kiss you soon.' You huff and cross your arms, and he relishes in how much you shrink under him like that, the soft tremble of your lips that bleeds excitement and anticipation.

'Don't worry, I'll make sure to crouch for you, I know it's hard being so small.'

'God you're so horrible, maybe Draken was right to beat you up nearly 50 times, he wouldn't treat me like this,' you say and roll your eyes for effect, biting your lip to suppress a smirk at how his grin twitches.

'Oh yeah?' He closes a hand around your throat before pulling you flush to him, a lean that closes the distance between your lips before he's sealing them in a heated kiss, his tongue swiping at yours before pulling away when he hears a soft moan. 'Would Draken do that too Sweetheart?'

You blink, your thoughts scattered, a feverish sweat licking across your skin. 'Mhm, maybe not. Never mind, you're forgiven but you're on thin ice!' you say, a finger pointed in his direction, and cursing yourself at how quickly your body betrays you with him, how it chooses him time and time again.

He laughs, presses a kiss to your cheek before wandering to the fridge and strangely enough, somehow, you wonder at how you'll have to fix the strange little marks on the doorframe tomorrow.

I'm sorry, the idea took over and I had to get it out, I was going a bit insane mayhaps. i love him sm i wanna punch him in the face

#tokyo revengers #tokyorev x reader #hanma shuji #hanma x reader #tokyo rev

342 notes · View notes

gyu-effect · 1 year

Text

an ode

“The best friend is the only true love that will never ditch you”

a series on playing a dangerous game; falling in love with your best friend

CURRENTLY WRITING : we got married [seungcheol x reader]

COMPLETED (1/13) :- i’ll marry you with paper rings [mingyu x reader]

message or send me an ask to be in the taglist!

A/N || I'm so excited to write this series!!! I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I will. If you guys have any member you want me to write for first, do let me know! This series updates will be very very slow as I want each fic to be stretched over many years for the slow burn to actually happen!

↬ Seungcheol in ❝ We Got Married ❞

“IF HE'S DOING THAT FOR A SHOW, THEN WHY DOES IT FEEL LIKE HE ACTUALLY LOVES HER?”

╼ PAIRING || Seungcheol x Female Reader

╼ GENRES || Idol!S.coups, Idol!Reader, Based on We Got Married, Best Friends To Lovers AU, Fluff, Angst, Love Triangle, Slow Burn, TBA

╼ SUMMARY || You considered your friendship with Choi Seungcheol as one made by the gods themselves; after all, it was no easy feat being best friends for so many years or even debuting from the same company. Things should have remained platonic between the two of you and yet, somewhere down the line you had fallen for him. Despite the fact it was hard meeting up with each other due to your both's conflicting, busy schedules, your love for him never went away, only growing with each passing day. But with Seungcheol getting selected for We Got Married, would you be able to give up your feelings for him?

Or, in which, you desperately hoped that the affection your best friend showered towards his girlfriend was just for the show.

╼ WARNINGS || TBA

╼ WORD COUNT || TBA

↬ Jeonghan in ❝ Everything, Everything ❞

“SOMEONE COULD BE MY EVERYTHING AND AT THE SAME TIME, I MIGHT BE NOTHING TO THEM”

╼ PAIRING || Jeonghan x Female Reader

╼ GENRES || Idol!Jeonghan, Best Friends To Lovers AU, Fluff, Angst, Slow Burn, Childhood Friends To Lovers AU, TBA

╼ SUMMARY || The sole reason Jeonghan had become an idol was because you had once told him how much you loved kpop idols. Agreed, the two of you were just kids back then but to him, every single thing about you was important. So it wasn't really surprising when a few years later he debuted in a kpop group. But now with his busy schedule, it felt like your friendship was hanging on a thin thread, barely having time to be there for each other like you two used to. Was it really worth losing you in this way in what he had hoped would make you realize how much he loved you?

Or, in which, you were Yoon Jeonghan's everything.

╼ WARNINGS || TBA

╼ WORD COUNT || TBA

↬ Joshua in ❝ Vivaldi's Four Seasons ❞

“SPRING, SUMMER, AUTUMN AND WINTER”

╼ PAIRING || Joshua x Female Reader

╼ GENRES || Violinist!Joshua, Violinist!Reader, Musician AU, Fluff, Best Friends To Lovers AU, Slow Burn, Angst, TBA

╼ SUMMARY || Spring to winter, you had spent every single season with your best friend Joshua. The two of you had met at the violin academy during your summer break and after that, there was no turning back. You both bonded over your love for music but there was also another thing that made you stay with Joshua: your growing feelings for him. It felt wrong falling for him, but somehow at the same time it felt right. Would you be able to stop the love from playing with the strings in your heart before it snapped?

Or, in which, it took you four seasons to realize Hong Joshua was your Spring Sonata.

╼ WARNINGS || TBA

╼ WORD COUNT || TBA

↬ Junhui in ❝ Light A Flame ❞

“A FLAME ON YOUR HEART”

╼ PAIRING || Junhui x Female Reader

╼ GENRES || Best Friends To Lovers AU, College AU, Angst, Fluff, Slow Burn, TBA

╼ SUMMARY || Wen Junhui never really cared whom you dated or had a fling with; he just made sure to caution you against some men who might have felt off for him. Because after all, it really shouldn't matter who you ended up with as long as you were happy, right? It should not have mattered at all, even if he was in love with you, his best friend of so many years, right? And yet, he could n't get rid of painful throb in his heart of him every time you went out on a date, knowing he would n't be able to set your heart on fire the way you had done to his of him.

Or, in which, you set a fire on Wen Junhui's heart, not knowing it could never be doused off.

╼ WARNINGS || TBA

╼ WORD COUNT || TBA

↬ Soonyoung in ❝ Blurred Lines ❞

“IT'S SUCH A THIN LINE BETWEEN LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP, RIGHT?”

╼ PAIRING || Soonyoung x Female Reader

╼ GENRES || Best Friends To Lovers AU, Childhood Friends To Lovers AU, College AU, Angst, Fluff, Slow Burn, TBA

╼ SUMMARY || You had been best friends with Kwon Soonyoung for as long as you could remember. The two of you were always together, no matter what even in college. It wasn't really surprising that people thought the two of you were together; you would just brush away the rumors joking about how funny it was that people presumed such things about your completely platonic relationship. But when Soonyoung was dared to kiss a girl at a certain frat party, you realized that maybe, your feelings for him weren't that platonic anymore.

Or, in which, you suddenly realize there is a very thin line between love and friendship

╼ WARNINGS || TBA

╼ WORD COUNT || TBA

↬ Wonwoo in ❝ Code Love ❞

“THERE'S A COLOR CODE FOR EVERY EMERGENCY, AND YET, NONE FOR FALLING FOR YOU”

╼ PAIRING || Wonwoo x Female Reader

╼ GENRES || Emergency Worker AU, Medical Student AU, Paramedic!Wonwoo, Best Friends To Lovers AU, Fluff, Angst, Slow Burn, TBA

╼ SUMMARY || Training to be a paramedic was hard for Wonwoo, especially with his family barely supporting him. But being with you made everything so much easier; it was like you could pull him out of any pit any time no matter what. So he really wasn't that surprised when he fell in love with you, despite you being his best friend. He knew falling for you was a dangerous thing, and yet it was a pit he didn't want to get out of and hoped you would never know how deep he had fallen in.

Or, in which, Jeon Wonwoo wished there was an emergency code that warned him not to fall for his best friend.

╼ WARNINGS || TBA

╼ WORD COUNT || TBA

↬ Jihoon in ❝ Ruby ❞

“SHIT, THIS IS RED TOO”

╼ PAIRING || Jihoon x Female Reader

╼ GENRES || Best Friends To Lovers AU, Childhood Friends To Lovers AU, College AU, Angst, Fluff, Slow Burn, TBA

╼ SUMMARY || Jihoon really regretted the time he told you his favorite color was red. Because after that you started dressing up in red as a joke. Or in your words, to make him 'fall for you'. To which he joked back that every time he saw you in red, he started liking the color less and less. Until one day, he saw you go out for a date in a red dress and realized just how gorgeous you looked in red.

Or, in which, Lee Jihoon began hating the color red in an attempt to stop loving you.

╼ WARNINGS || TBA

╼ WORD COUNT || TBA

↬ Seokmin in ❝ Daffodils ❞

“I WANDERED LONELY AS A CLOUD”

╼ PAIRING || Seokmin x Female Reader

╼ GENRES || Support Group AU, Angst, Best Friends To Lovers AU, Slow Burn, Fluff, TBA

╼ SUMMARY || Things had been really hard for you ever since the accident; it was like a part of you had died that night. So when your mother asked you to join a support group, you only agreed to it so that she would stop pestering you. You hadn't really expected it to help you even a bit; but it did, especially after you befriended Lee Seokmin. Never had you expected to find solace in someone so similar to you, and yet so different. And maybe your mother was right, Seokmin was your daffodil.

Or, in which, you and Seokmin wandered around until you met each other.

╼ WARNINGS || TBA

╼ WORD COUNT || TBA

↬ Mingyu in ❝ I'll Marry You With Paper Rings ❞

“AND I'LL MARRY YOU EVEN WITH PAPER RINGS”

╼ PAIRING || Mingyu x Female Reader

╼ GENRES || Best Friends To Lovers AU, Fluff, Angst, Childhood Friends To Lovers AU, Slow Burn, Love Triangle (not exactly), Marriage Pact AU, Humour

╼ SUMMARY || When the two of you were little, you and Mingyu had made a marriage pact, agreeing to marry each other if both of you remained single till thirty. Of course, it was just a joke between the two of you and you both went about in your own ways, the silly promise pretty much forgotten. You soon had a huge list of ex-boyfriends and it became a routine for Mingyu to be your human tissue after each breakup. It was a tiresome job, taking care of you, but if the said best friend in love with you didn't do it, who would she?

Or, in which, even twenty years later, Kim Mingyu finds himself running to your every beck and call, despite telling himself he won't fall for you anymore.

╼ WARNINGS || minors dni, swearing lots of swearing, alcohol consumption, wonwoo is an ass (sometimes), mingyu’s friend circle bullies him because what even is new, reader has a obsessive ex, down bad gyu (and yes this is a warning), switch!mingyu, switch!reader, soft sex its more of making love so there aren’t really any dynamics, unprotected sex (do not do this), pet names for both (love, baby, angel, princess, sir), riding, sofa sex

╼ WORD COUNT || 28.3k

↬ Minghao in ❝ Avant Garde ❞

“FOR ME, YOU WERE AN ART THAT COULD HAVE ONLY BEEN MADE BY THE GODS ABOVE”

╼ PAIRING || Minghao x Female Reader

╼ GENRES || Best Friends To Lovers AU, Art Student!Minghao, Art Student!Reader, Childhood Friends To Lovers AU, Art AU, Slow Burn, Fluff, Angst,TBA

╼ SUMMARY || Every summer, you and Minghao spent an absurdly huge amount of time in the art studio, drawing and just having fun with each other. It was really a blessing according to you that both of you loved art this much, it also made getting into the same college much easier. The two of you were nothing more than just two best friends who loved art; until one art assignment where you had to paint a portrait of each other and you realized just how beautiful your best friend was. And that maybe, you were in love with him.

Or, in which, it took you just a drawing to realize that you loved Xu Minghao.

╼ WARNINGS || TBA

╼ WORD COUNT || TBA

↬ Seungkwan in ❝ Paper Planes ❞

“EVERYTIME YOU SENT ME A PAPER PLANE, IT LANDED IN MY HEART”

╼ PAIRING || Seungkwan x Female Reader

╼ GENRES || Slow Burn, Childhood Friends To Lovers AU, Best Friends To Lovers AU, Fluff, Angst, TBA

╼ SUMMARY || The new boy in your school looked like he was really feeling out of place, like he wanted to have fun with everyone else but he wasn't sure how to approach them. So you took it in your hand to help him adjust; after all it wasn't coming from a whole different city. But it looked like he didn't want your help either. So you decided to send him paper planes everyday until he warmed up to you. But what you didn't know was that Boo Seungkwan had saved each and every of the paper plane you had sent him; despite it being nearly twenty years since the two of you had become best friends.

Or, in which, Boo Seungkwan wished you hadn't sent those paper planes all the way into his heart.

╼ WARNINGS || TBA

╼ WORD COUNT || TBA

↬ Vernon in ❝ Ocean ❞

“ YOU COULD PUT AN OCEAN BETWEEN OUR LOVE”

╼ PAIRING || Vernon x Female Reader

╼ GENRES || Fluff, Angst, Best Friends To Lovers AU, Angst, College AU, Coming Of Age AU, Slow Burn, TBA

╼ SUMMARY || Best friends were supposed to stay together forever right? Except that you were moving away after this summer because of your college. Even though promises were exchanged, something told Vernon that it was going to be hard to keep this relationship alive over such a long distance. And he would have accepted this harsh truth as reality if it was not for the fact that he loved you, but he could not confess out of the fear of ruining these precious few last moments with you. Yet he tried his best to hold onto the figments of friendship the two of you had after you moved away. Would he be able to climb up the wall that was slowly building up between the two of you?

Or, in which, Choi Vernon would swim even a thousand oceans if it just meant to catch a glimpse of you.

╼ WARNINGS || TBA

╼ WORD COUNT || TBA

↬ Chan in ❝ I See The Light ❞

“AND AT LAST I SEE THE LIGHT”

╼ PAIRING || Chan x Female Reader

╼ GENRES || Best Friends To Lovers AU, Slow Burn, Childhood Friends To Lovers AU, Angst, College AU, Coming Of Age AU,TBA

╼ SUMMARY || You never thought that you would end up being best friends with the boy who had run off from the park due to some fireworks in the sky. But here you were, once again coaxing him to come out and enjoy one last fireworks night before the two of you moved away for college. And Chan finally agreed, and while you were prepared for him to clutch you like his personal teddy bear, you definitely weren't prepared for the sudden stuttering in your heart when you realized just how beautiful he looked under the million colors erupting in the night sky.

Or, in which, you realized Lee Chan had always been your guiding light in the foggy skies.

╼ WARNINGS || TBA

╼ WORD COUNT || TBA

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archangeldyke-all · 30 days

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hihi! :) (let’s hope the tumblr gods don’t eat this)

do you have any thoughts about modern sevika tastes? i.e how she dresses, the scents she likes to wear, the music she might like, what her phone case might be like. things like that! :)

- topdrop anon

i have a few, but i would LOVE to hear your guys thoughts in the comments too!!

men and minors dni

she dresses practically: pants with lots of pockets, shoes with steel toes, breathable and easy to wash fabrics. but i think she's got a little fashion sense in her, and she knows how good she looks, so she's always buying her clothes just one size too small so all her muscles are on full display, pulling and tugging at the tight fabric of her clothes.

lots of shades of gray and black. some earthy tones-- olive greens and tans and browns. a few pops of color here and there: her favorite red jacket, the purple beanie she wears in winter.

all her socks are black. but her boxers are the cutsy-est things you've ever seen. prints of little hearts, dogs, kitties, ducks, lolipops; writing over the ass like 'eat me' or 'kiss me'; she keeps most of her attire serious, but her undies are always goofy.

i think her left arm would either be a prosthetic or covered in tattoos. shoulder to fingertips.

she's totally the type of person to drive in silence. or listen to the news. she doesn't really listen to music, but she's got a few jazz vinyls she's always cycling through at home. i think it's mostly instrumental, but she does have a soft spot for some soulful singing (which means she cries when nina simone comes on every. single. time. and can you blame her?)

as much as i want to make her a punk-rocker, i just think she'd find it noisy and annoying hahaha.

her phone case is either clear, or it's super bulky and has a little latch on it so she can latch it to her belt lmaoooo.

she keeps the background photo as the default picture it comes with, until she meets you. (she changes it to a pic of the two of you kissing the SECOND you agree to be her girlfriend. she grins after you say yes, pulls her phone out, and quickly changes her background, whispering, "fuck yes, i've been waiting to get rid of this boring ass wallpaper.")

i don't know how to describe scents, but i picture her smelling fresh, like kinda minty, but in a irish spring way. sandalwood too. but on top of all her soaps and lotions, she wears a really warm scented cologne, like tobacco and brown sugar and whiskey and coconut. like amber-y smelling?

she tries to deny the fact that she's got a sweet tooth. she's always munching on chips or nuts or other salty snacks. but that's just because if she starts on a sugary treat, she won't be able to stop herself until it's all gone.

you find this out after you gift her a pan of brownies for her birthday in the morning, and find that they're gone by lunchtime.

now, you always keep little chocolates and hard candies on you to pass to her when she looks stressed. she always gives you the biggest, happiest eyes you've ever seen, like you've just handed her a check for a million dollars instead of a peanutbutter cup.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika

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honeyhotteoks · 10 days

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i genuinely can't stop thinking about yunho as a fallen angel... like...

yunho’s catholic confirmation name is stefano, which is i believe a reference to saint stephen. saint stephen is the patron saint of several different things, but the one that caught my eye was the patron saint of coffin makers. ive had that knowledge churning around in my brain for a long time, especially after watching the kdrama doom at your service, but after seeing these pictures my mind is absolutely spinning with fallen angel soulmate yunho brain rot……… so come along with me

•

fallen angel yunho. he's been wandering the earth for years, passing through life and people and history and he's never known the reason that he was cast out until he meets her, you. he hears you first, a distant voice in the back of his mind, a prayer to his saintly name, a name he hasn't heard in what feels like a millennia. a whisper to saint stephen, the man he used to be, many years and many bodies ago.

no one prays to him anymore, not really. certainly not a voice like yours, ringing clearly and angrily in his ear, a bitter request for a coffin to be ready in early spring. he thinks about the way it's almost winter now, the air turning crisp, and he wonders what in your life has you so angry and yet so practical about death.

he thinks of you for days, weeks, idlily waiting to hear the voice again. he dreams of it, sometimes wakes from a stone sleep to your bitter tenor, the clear catch of tears in your throat, but it's always a memory. he finds himself wandering the city for you, searching through churches, reverent houses of worship that you might be hiding away in. he doesn't expect to find your voice ringing out clear as day across the crowded room of a museum, full of life and joy and the picture of health.

he finds a way to speak to you, he's practiced in the art of conversation, of seduction even when the end goal isn't sex. he just wants to know you, to hear your pretty prayer in person, to understand your voice just a little and why in the world you were praying to him and not god himself like everyone else. in the midst of many, he makes a space for you both alone, the connection and the pull immediate and essential.

for a while, you make him smile, laugh, relax, he feels more at ease and more like a person than he ever would have expected. he doesn't understand you or your prayer though, not until you cough painfully, fitfully into your sleeve and he sees the bright kiss of blood at the corner of your lips. he never imagined you sick, but he supposes it makes sense. in all the versions of meeting you he imagined, this outcome wasn’t one he ever entertained.

he's never watched someone he's loved die before, at least not since his first life, and shamefully he barely remembers the names of his family from then. but somehow he knows he'll remember yours, the way he aches is altogether new and even though he knows it would be better to watch over you from afar, he just can't. and it doesn't help that you keeps finding your way to him around every corner of the city, coincidence after coincidence. so easy to joke about how it must be fate when it is in fact fate, pulling you tightly together and tying the knot tight.

he allows himself to love you then, and you allow yourself one last, good thing. he never lies about who and what he is, and you never really believe him, for all you know he's just a figment of your imagination. a hallucination from one of your tumors like the doctor warned you about. you think if cancer can give you one gift before dying, at least it's him.

for a little while yunho thinks his purpose in falling from grace was to love you, after all you prayed to him, no matter how bitterly. but he understands the truth the moment he meets your daughter, the moment he realizes his purpose for you is much more than momentary, final happiness.

and so he carries you forward through those final months, easing your pain and your giving you one last chance at real, lasting love. and he helps ease you into the other side, his promises whispered tearfully into your hair, that he'll see you again but only after he stays by her side. your child's own guardian angel, happy to watch over her and guide her until it's her time to come home too.

and of course, that means he has to wait. you both do, but he's already waited, even when he didn't know what he was waiting for.

#this is straight rambling #but i know i can commit to writing this fic #so please have a wildly fleshed out idea #honeyhotteoks updates #yunho brain rot #cw cancer #cw death #but like i’m so sorry yunho is prime soulmates fic fodder #like red thread of fate!!!!!!

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bwabys-scenarios · 2 months

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Heya! Just thinking about Kurapika cuase he my fav. Since Kurta culture is such a big deal to him, how would he try to teach his significant other about it? Would he try to teach them as they go along or would he try to distance himself from his past culture? Thanks for writing these Headcannons, they get me through my busy work week lollll

Kurapika and his culture, thoughts and HCs

!!REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!

A/N: This is less of an x reader and more of Kurta tradition HCs! Also, these are all made up and not inspired by anything specific, so any likeliness to actual cultural practices is not intended. The only tradition that is inspired by real culture is the last one, which is inspired by Dia De Los Muertos(which is obvious but I wanted to give credit where credit is due!!)

Thoughts

Absolutely! As the only Kurta left alive, he’s the only one that can keep his culture and traditions alive. It’s one of the reasons he wants children so badly, he wants to have his clan again!

I think Kurapika isn’t the type to force you to learn or expect you to participate in his culture, after all it’s not your own, but he’d very much appreciate it if you did. You’re his everything, all he has left in this world and the future mother of his children, and he’d be over the moon if you wore the traditional tabards on special holidays and practiced the traditional dance that the Kurta people would preform on their wedding nights.

He also won’t be overbearing with having his kids participate, but will be filled with joy when the little ones ask why daddy is wearing something different and praying on certain days.

Kurapika will bully his friends into celebrating with him, though. Gon and Killua have their own Kurta tabards that they have to wear when then come over during holidays. And no, Gon’s isn’t green. You’ll see why later on in this post.

HCs

-I think the Kurtas had many different traditions, which I will list here.

-One tradition I already mentioned, which is the bride and groom performing a specific dance on their wedding day. It’s a sign of devotion and love that lasts a lifetime, so it’s one of the only things Kurapika really wants you to do.

-Another is celebrating the coming of fall and harvests, alone with spring, summer, and winter. Each season has a different celebration and traditions, like dancing in the snow and leaving your favorite preserved fruit in the windowsill as an offering.

-You give that fruit during winter, a time where the fields are barren so when the fruit is ripe again, the gods give back tenfold.

-In spring, there are always flowers decorating doorframes, most families represented by a specific flower(marigolds for Kurapika’s family!), which is said to strengthen the spirits of each household.

-During summer, the children all made little dolls out of straw(or clay if their family works with it) and fill them with sweets, then leave them in the forest. This is an offering to the forest spirits so they can continue to coexists amongst each other. The Kurta people have a lot of respect for nature, always giving back what they take.

-The most important tradition takes place during late fall, right before winter. It’s a day to remember your loved ones who have passed, and obviously this holiday is especially rough for Kurapika. Before the massacre, it was a day that was spent celebrating the lives that once were, but now it is full of grief. He wears all green. Brown and earthy tones are used for grieving too, like for widows that are in states of mourning, but green is reserved for funerals. The earthy times symbolize the deceased giving their bodies back to the earth, and the inevitably of returning to dust.

-Because their scarlet eyes are treasured in the clan and green is opposite to red, red is seen as a color of mouthing. Fun fact, the first time Kurapika saw Gon, he assumed he was in a deep state of mourning because he was wearing an entirely green outfit. Of course he soon learned that the Kurta way of mourning was different than the rest of the world, but that didn’t stop him from being more gentle with Gon for a while.

-Kurapika prefers to pray alone when he’s in mourning. He gets choked up and cries sometimes, and needs time to collect himself and process the tremendous loss he feels.

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samieree · 9 months

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Banished Heimdall x Reader (Goddess of Nature)

(Request from wattpad) The part where Kratos spared Heimdall. Well let's say he did spare him and he came back to Odin to report what happened but the gjallarhorn was stolen and Odin banished him to Midgard and did the same spell like Freya had. And for years being stuck in Midgard, there he meet the reader who is actually the Goddess/Mother Nature, melting the snows and creating flowers for the end of Fimbulwinter.

Several years have passed since Odin banished Heimdall to Midgard for losing the Gjallarhorn. But he still didn't accept this fact, and exile did not soften his character at all. The winter didn't help much either. Luckily it was finally coming to an end.

Heimdall was tired of wearing thick fur. He definitely preferred the climate in Asgard, his clothes and peace there. And now he had to take care of himself, and it was driving him crazy. Especially at the beginning, ugh... He doesn't even want to think about it. He shouldn't live in the past.

He was just coming back to his house, grumbling about how he hates this world and this winter better be over because... Okay, he doesn't know what he's going to do, but it better be the end of this cold weather. Though... Then he'd have to boat across Lake of Nine and row, so maybe the cold wasn't so bad after all...

"Stop!" He heard a scream but ignored it. He continued walking forward, still focused on complaining. At least until some vines suddenly sprouted from the ground in front of him. "Are you deaf?"

"Are you looking for trouble?" Irritated, he turned to the place where the voice came from and was clearly surprised.

You were standing a few feet in front of him. With a slight smile on your face, dressed in a fairly light outfit, considering the weather. But... The aura around you looked like spring. Your hands emanated pleasant magic, and the smile itself seemed to melt the snow that was no longer around you at all. Nature was beginning to come back to life, green grass sprouted from under the snow, and the scent of flowers slowly began to fill the air.

You've met each other before, when he happened to be on a mission in Midgard. And it seemed like your character has stayed the same ever since. And he won't admit it, but... The aura you spread around you calmed him down and warmed his heart.

"Be careful, don't step on my flowers." You said, drawing back the vines that were blocking his path. You just finished that meadow and it was about to get trampled by some bitter guy.

"Do you really think I care?" Okay, maybe not the usual bitter guy, because as he turned to walk away you saw his shining eyes. And you've only known one person with eyes like that - other than einherjers, but they've been gone for a while.

So it had to be Heimdall. Very dissatisfied with having to be where he is.

"Respect nature and it will respect you." You followed him, and with you spring aura, letting the world know that it's time to wake up from winter sleep.

"I don't need it. Go plant your flowers elsewhere."

"I seem to have planted quite a few around your house. I thought there were some people living there, otherwise I probably wouldn't be so nice." You said half-jokingly, clearing the snowdrifts from your path with one snap of your finger.

"You did- WHAT?! Who asked you for this?!"

"Do you have to ask for gifts?" You replied, tilting your head slightly and aligning your step with him. "I don't think that's what it's about..." You smiled and extended your hand towards him with a flower in your hand.

"I don't want any weeds." He took off his coat and draped it over his shoulder as it was actually starting to get warm.

You rolled your eyes at those words and ran in front of him, now walking backwards but facing him. You were still holding a beautiful flower in your hands, flower with large, white petals for now.

"Look." You ran your free hand over the flower and its petals began to change colour. In shades of pink, purple and blue. Its stem took on a white colour with golden accents. You smiled wider and extended your hand to him, offering this newly created plant. "Here, this is for you. It looks like you." Heimdall stopped suddenly, and so did you.

No one has ever been so insistent about giving him a gift. In general, no one ever even wanted to give him a gift... It was even... A nice feeling.

In order not to lose his image, he sighed a martyrdom before taking the plant from you, the petals of which matched the colours of his eyes. As he took the flower, your hands touched for a moment. Your skin was very smooth and radiated a warmth Heimdall didn't know, but he could tell with certainty that it was pleasant.

"And what am I supposed to do with it?" He asked, examining the plant carefully.

"Plant. Need help?" You asked as you started walking back towards Heimdall's house. "You could plant a vegetable garden. Oh, or orchard!" You smiled at that thought. Walking with him towards his house, you kept doing your job along the way, here and there stimulating more plants to grow.

"Do I look like a gardener to you?" He grunted, his eyes focused on the flower. This small gesture somehow warmed his heart, which was especially aching after the things that had happened to him.

"I'd help you." You suggested. "Of course, when I'm done with spring." You added, walking over to him.

You reached your hand towards his face, but he immediately pulled away. He knew what you wanted to do and he absolutely did not want to let it happen. I will look like an idiot. You froze with your hand next to his face.

"What a favour from Y/n, the great goddess of nature." He said it with a hint of mockery in his voice. "Why do you want to help me?"

"I have a soft spot for things that need fixing." You said honestly. He would know anyway if you lied.

"I'm not broken."

"Aren't you?"

Isn't he? He didn't know himself. And what does a not broken person look like? Behaves? Lives?

He was always lonely, even when he was surrounded by people. Even if he was in bed with someone, even if there was a family meeting. He always felt alone, as if no one cared about him, he meant nothing to anyone and the only value he had was what he was doing for his world. And now he didn't even have that. He lived from day to day, but he had no purpose. He just existed.

He sighed softly, then nodded slightly. After that small gesture, you gave him another warm smile and finally moved your hand. You touched his hair and tucked a flower like the one you gave him behind his ear.

"It suits you." You said, placing your hand on his cheek for a moment longer and it cost him all his stubbornness not to snuggle into it and it's warmth.

The warmth of sincere sympathy, caring, interest. Something he had never known, and it was an unfamiliar but pleasant feeling. And maybe, just maybe, he would like to experience it even more.

"Like a wreath suits a cow." He grunted, but there was no such obvious malice in his voice. "Can we go now or are you going to put so much weed in my hair that I'll never get it out?" Saying this, he started walking towards his house again and you followed him.

"I'll take them out, you don't have to worry." You said.

"Oh, and you think that I'm going to let you do that?"

"If you let me put a flower in your hair, you'll let me take it out." You answered with a wide smile, walking with him arm in arm and spreading your spring aura around you here and there.

Damn, she's right.

-> general masterlist -> God of War: Ragnarök masterlist

#heimdall #god of war heimdall #god of war ragnarok #gow heimdall #heimdall god of war #god of war #gow #heimdall gow #heimdall x reader

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thewildsophia · 6 months

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.Wild Child. Moominvalley//Snufkin x Reader

Snufkin x Winged!Reader

A/n: This fic took so damn long to make my GOD- It's been 2 years in the making, but I'm so glad to finally be finished with it. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Word Count: 12884

Living your life outside in the wild had left you somewhat…feral.

You weren’t aggressive, quite the opposite in fact, you just didn’t quite understand the way that people worked, and it very much showed. You often stayed away from others, worried that they would harm you. Your understanding of speech was limited, so you often just mimicked what others have said before you in hopes that you’ll be able to understand it one day.

You vaguely remember being raised by your parents up until the ripe old age of 3. After that, they took you out somewhere in the woods before placing you down and leaving. From then on, it had just been you and the occasional animal or being that decided to help you out.

You weren’t completely sure why they had left you, but you assumed that it had to do with your wings. That’s right, you had wings; much like a bird’s. Decorated with white and pale gold feathers, they were powerful enough to lift you high above the ground and allowed you to travel to all the different lands that your heart desired.

As of right now, you were heading somewhere warm as the area you were currently in was beginning to become cold again, the telltale sign that winter was approaching in that area. You remembered seeing on someone’s map that there was an area just south of where you currently were that would be spring this time of year, so you decided to fly there for the time being.

It took you a few days, but you eventually arrived in a small valley-like area that was covered in forest life. Large Birch and Oak trees covered the area as you did your initial fly-by to get affiliated with the place, which made it a bit difficult to get a good visual of the area. In addition to that, the wind here was much stronger than what you were used to and you knew that trying to fly against it would tire you out quicker.

You decided it would be best if you flew lower to the ground. However, because of the size of the trees, your flight was limited significantly. Eventually, you just opted to hop from treetop to treetop, using your wings to help when encountering a particularly large jump.

It was then that you spotted a man below you wearing a green hat and coat, along with a yellow scarf and a large brown backpack. The thing that intrigued you the most about him was that he looked a lot like you. All the other people you had met resembled woodland creatures and animals as opposed to yourself. He even walked the same way you did sometimes!

Curious, you began to follow him as quietly as possible. The sun was beginning to set when he stopped and began to set up, what appeared to you to be, some kind of small home. While trying to get a closer look at what he was doing, you leaned a little too far forward on the branch you were standing on and almost fell. Much to your dismay, the sound of you scrambling to get back up alerted the man. He looked over at the trees to where you were, but his eyes glossed over your form as they passed through the tree line.

“Hello?” He called out. His voice was soft and smooth, but loud enough to be heard from a distance.

You held your breath and remained silent, hoping that he’d just go back to what he was previously doing. He took one last glance before sitting back down in front of the fire he had made. As he was sitting, a strong gust of wind blew by, taking the man’s hat with it.

“Hey!” He shouted while reaching out to grab it, missing it by a few inches. The hat blew past your direction and into the dark woods. You watched as he chased after it until he reached the tree line. He sighed before turning back and sitting near the fire. He sat there frying a fish while sulking, most definitely being upset about his hat.

Feeling bad for him, you decide to go looking for it. You quietly left the area before dropping down to the forest floor and looking for his hat. Your vision was a lot better than most people’s, but even with that advantage, it was going to be a bit difficult looking for a green hat amongst flowers, grass, weeds, and other various plant life.

Like you predicted, it took a while -- you’re not sure how long exactly -- before you found what you were looking for. You got back up on the trees before heading over to where the man was settled. To your surprise, he was still awake and playing some kind of tune.

You haven’t heard much music throughout your life, but the little that you did hear you liked, and this was perhaps your favorite. You stayed there for a while, crouched on one of the tree branches, just listening to him before you decided to return what was his. Slowly, you descended the tree you were perched on and began to walk over to him, standing straight. You didn’t walk much, but when you did you crouched, remaining close to the ground. You only did that so that you’d always be ready to take flight if needed.

He must have heard your descent because he looked over in your direction and spoke.

“Hello?” He called out again. Your steps stuttered a bit as you hesitated before you came into the light of his fire. He stood from where he was sitting; his brown eyes met your E/C ones as you two stared at the other for a moment. His gaze made your wings twitch under your cloak.

Now looking at him in the light, you noted that he wasn’t a man, but instead a boy around your age, if not a few years younger. Brown locks of hair framed his face perfectly as you watched his eyes study your form. He was so beautiful and his body looked so much like yours. Was he one of your kind? What even were you?

“Can I help you?” He asked. You snapped out of your thoughts and held his hat out in front of him.

“Is…for you,” You mumbled, trying to find the right words. He seemed shocked but took his hat nonetheless.

“My, thank you very much,” He said, fixing it upon his head and covering his beautiful hair, “I didn’t think I’d see it again.” He added with a smile. You smiled yourself before he put his hand out towards you, making you take a step back.

“I’m Snufkin, a pleasure to meet you,” He, Snufkin, said with his hand still extended. You looked at his hand and then back up at him.

“Snufkin?” You repeated, pointing at him.

“Yes, that’s right,” He confirmed, “And you are?”

“Y/N,” You said, pointing to yourself. Snufkin’s extended hand fell back to his side as he spoke.

“Well, Y/N, would you like to sit by the fire with me? As a thanks for you returning my hat?” Snufkin asked, making a vague gesture for you to sit down with him. You cocked your head to the side, eyebrows knitted in confusion as to what he was asking. You stared at him expectantly before his smile dropped.

“Y/N?” He asked. You hummed in acknowledgment and walked over to him but didn’t sit down. You looked down at him, waiting for what he had to say.

“Do you want to join me?” He asked again.

“Do you want to join me?” You mimicked, smiling. Snufkin furrowed his eyebrows before patting the seat next to him saying,

“Sit.”

You complied and sat next to him on the log. You noted the small setup above the fire, some sort of large pot being just above the open flame. He pulled out two small, wooden bowls and handed you one of them. He used a spoon to move some of the liquid from the pot and into the small bowls. You stared at your, now full, bowl before looking over at Snufkin to see what he was doing with it. You watched as he dipped the spoon into the bowl before lifting it to his mouth, gently blowing on it before eating it.

“What?” You asked, pointing to your bowl. Snufkin looks over at you.

“What was that?” He asked. You hummed before repeating,

“What…this?” You specified. Snufkin looks at you confused before answering you.

“It’s stew,” He said, not looking away from you. You still didn’t understand.

“Stew?” You asked.

“Stew. It’s a type of soup. I just used some of the various plants I found, along with some meat.” He explained. You continued to look at him, face scrunched in confusion.

“Y/N,” He said, pulling your attention, “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

You stared at him, face blank before he sighed.

“You eat it, like this,” He said, lifting the bowl to his lips and gently pouring it into his mouth and drinking it. When you sat there staring at him, he gently moved the bowl in your hand and lifted it to your lips, doing the same with his own bowl. He then took a sip from his bowl. As understanding washed over you, you took the bowl into both of your hands before taking a sip of it.

It was so good! You had never tasted anything this good before.

You smiled, giggling lightly, as you pulled the bowl away from your lips, your bare feet rubbing against the dirt in delight. Your wings had puffed up a bit before you stretched them a bit under your cloak, catching the attention of Snufkin. Glancing over, you noticed his eyes were fixed on the back of your cloak. You moved the bowl to one hand as your other one moved your cloak aside, exposing your wings to the chilly night air.

“Oh, wow,” Snufkin mumbled as you rolled your shoulders, stretching your wings out a bit more. It was always a bit uncomfortable keeping them in the same position for a long period of time. You took another sip of the ‘stew’ when you flinched, feeling something brush up against your wings.

“Oh, sorry,” Snufkin apologized, noticing your discomfort, “Did I hurt you?” He asked.

“Hurt me?” You asked. You shook your head ‘no,’ moving your wing closest to him towards him, “Okay.” You say.

“Can I touch them?” Snufkin asked, his hands hovering above them still unsure of what to do.

“Touch them,” You repeated, stretching your wing towards him. His hands were warm on the chilled appendage and were gentle not to pull any of the pale-colored feathers. You quietly hummed in delight, a small smile gracing your lips as you closed your eyes and rested the bowl in your lap. This felt surprisingly nice.

“I’ve never seen anything like you before,” Snufkin mumbled. “You’re incredible.”

Those words made you feel strange even if you didn’t quite understand them. Not in a bad way, the opposite really. You felt warm and didn’t want to leave him. Still, his words muddled you and you turned to him confused.

“You…like me?” You said pointing to the back of his coat.

“Oh, no,” He said, moving his hands to trace the back of his coat, “I don’t have…wings.”

You hummed in acknowledgment before moving your cloak back in place over your wings to protect them from the cold. You finished the last of your food before placing the bowl on the ground and warming yourself up by the fire. You were close to falling asleep when you heard Snufkin shuffling beside you. He had grabbed the bowls and was running them through the water in the stream nearby. When he returned, he dried them off using some cloth before placing them in his bag and putting them in his little home.

“Do you have somewhere to stay?” Snufkin asked, “I have some extra room in my tent.” He added, pointing to his ‘tent.’

“Yes,” You said, shaking your head, “Have…somewhere.” You specified, standing up and stretching.

“Take-Thank…” You stuttered, trying to remember the words, “Thank…”

“‘Thank you?’” Snufkin said.

“Yes!” You shouted, smiling, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” He said, entering his tent, “Good night.” He whispered before closing the tent completely.

“Good…night,” You mumbled. You stared at the tent for a moment, a small smile still on your lips, before flying over to the small forest again. You turned to look back at the small setup before searching for a good tree to perch in for the night.

~~~~~~~~~~

When you went to check for him the next day in the area he was previously at, he was not there. A little disappointed, you continued on with your day. While looking for a stream to find some fish at, you spot Snufkin sitting on a bridge. In his hand, he had a long stick with, what you thought to be, a string attached to the end of it. The end of the string was submerged in the water.

Perching on the railing of the bridge, you called out to the brunette.

“Snufkin,” You said, smiling. Your smile faltered when you heard him yelp and turn around with wide eyes. He calmed down when he recognized you.

“Y/N,” He whispered, still breathing a bit heavily, “You startled me…” He said, readjusting his position and looking back at the water. You jumped off the railing and sat next to Snufkin.

“How did you get here without me knowing?” He asked, glancing over at you. You pointed up at the sky.

“Oh, yeah,” Snufkin whispered.

“What doing?” You asked, pointing to the stick in his hand.

“I’m fishing,” He answered. You tilt your head to the side and hum.

“Fishing?” You repeated.

“Yes, fishing,” Snufkin repeated, “Using a fishing rod, I’m catching fish to eat.” He explained slowly. You furrow your eyebrows before walking off of the bridge. You removed your cloak and rolled your brown pants up to your mid-thighs before walking into the water. The water was cooler than you expected, but you quickly got used to it.

“What are you doing?” Snufkin asked with a small smile. You pressed a finger to your lip telling him to be quiet and stood there as still as you could, feeling for the fish. When you felt a large enough one pass close to you, you quickly grabbed it, digging your nails into the soft flesh making sure it wouldn’t get away. Pulling it out of the water, you flew over to the bridge next to Snufkin and held the fish out to him.

“Fish!” You shouted, smiling. Snufkin looked at you surprised before placing his rod to the side and taking the fish from you. It struggled around in his hands as he grabbed it.

“I-Wow. That was…impressive, Y/N.” Snufkin said, still bewildered. You smiled wider before returning to the water. You walked around a bit before finding a good spot.

“For me…” You murmured as you waited. Your concentration was broken when you heard a hiss-like sound come from Snufkin. Turning to him you note that he wasn’t making that noise, but instead the ‘fishing rod’ that he was pulling on. When he finished struggling with the rod, he held up a fish that was attached to the end of the string, still flopping around.

“For you,” Snufkin said, patting the spot next to him. You flew over to him before he handed you the fish he had just caught. You shuffled off of the bridge before looking around for a small sharp rock to use. You felt Snufkin’s eyes on you as you did so, but you didn’t mind all that much.

Once you found a rock that would work, you crouched down in front of the fish and struck it hard in the head before cleaning it. You used the rock to scrape off the fish’s scales, then rinsed the fish one more time in the water before taking a bite of it. You had torn a piece of it off when you heard Snufkin shout.

“Wait-What are you doing?” He exclaimed, rushing towards you. You backed away from him and groaned when he reached a hand out towards the fish still in your mouth. He pulled his hand away saying,

“You need to cook it first,” He said, worry still etched on his face. You hummed in confusion, removing the fish from your mouth.

“Cook?” You asked. Snufkin sighed before standing back up.

“Here, come with me,” He said, motioning for you to follow him. Hesitantly, you got up and followed him to a small clearing. There, he set up a small fire using dead leaves and small twigs. Much like you did, he prepped the fish by removing the scales, but then cut the belly of it, removing its insides. Something else noteworthy was that, unlike the sharp rock you had used, he had grabbed a piece of metal and cleaned the fish out.

“What…that?” You asked, pointing to the long, thin piece of metal. Snufkin hummed before explaining.

“It’s a pocket knife. It’s made of metal and has a sharp edge here which allows you to cut things.” He said, showing the knife to you. You tapped the metal of it with your nail and hummed in thought before pulling your hand back.

“May I have your fish?” He asked, pointing to the fish next to you. You scrunch your face and groan. You thought about it for a moment before giving it to him.

“Thank you,” He said, cutting the stomach of it. You watched his movements curiously. After he finished scraping the insides of the fish out, he stuck a long stick through them and held them over the fire.

“Trust me,” He whispered, drawing your attention away from the fire and to him, “This will taste much better. And will lower the risk of you getting sick.” He added, smiling. You didn’t quite understand what he was saying, but you returned his smile nonetheless. You were curious to learn what other words he knew.

“What…this,” You mumbled, pointing to his hat. He looked up.

“Oh, that’s my hat,” Snufkin said, not taking his focus off of the fish.

“Hat?” You repeated, unsure.

“Yes, that’s right,” He smiled. You hummed before tugging gently at the end of his coat.

“What this?” You ask again.

“My coat,” He answered.

“Coat…” You whispered, “Cooooooat.” He laughed lightly at that.

“Yup,” He giggled. You hummed again and scooted closer to him. He looked at you shocked before drawing his attention to your next question.

“What this?” You asked, placing your foot next to his. You were pointing at his feet this time.

“…My shoes,” He muttered, not looking away from you. The way that the sunlight shown down through your H/C lashes and illuminated your S/C skin, bouncing off of your airy feathers really did make you look beautiful, angelic. He wanted so badly to run his hands through your wings, remember very vividly just how soft they were, but felt it rude to ask. Feeling his face warm up, Snufkin pushed the thought to the back of his head while clearing his throat.

You continued asking him the names of various items surrounding the two of you before he pulled the fish out from the fire. He placed them on a piece of cloth and rested them in his lap. You reached out to grab your fish before Snufkin stopped out.

“Wait, they’re still too warm,” He said, holding a hand out in front of you. You groaned at him before grabbing the fish anyway.

You immediately regretted the action when a searing, burning sensation blossomed in your hand.

“Ah!” You shouted, dropping the fish and backing away. Snufkin was quick to catch it and place it back with the other, muttering a small ‘ow’ of his own.

“I told you, it’s still too hot,” Snufkin said, a bit irritated.

“Why?” You asked surprised, “Fish cold. Why hot now?” You specified, looking over at his lap and at the fish. Snufkin raised his eyebrows at that.

“Fire is hot,” He said matter-of-factly. He grabbed your hand and held it close to the fire, allowing you to feel the gentle warmth it gave off. You hummed in confusion, eyebrows drawn together in thought.

“Okay,” He said, shifting his position and facing his body towards you, “Fire is hot. Fire makes other things hot.” He explained simply. You stared at him then at the fire. He was about to say something else when you spoke.

“Fire make…fish hot?” You asked, still a little unsure.

“Yes, exactly,” Snufkin praised, smiling. You shook your head slowly as you began to understand. You crawled back over to where you were previously sitting next to Snufkin, cradling your tender hand.

“Here,” Snufkin said, digging around in his backpack for a moment. When he finished, he showed you a small container that held a thick, clear liquid, “Give me your hand.” He said, holding out one of his. You placed your hand in his palm up when he applied a small amount of the liquid to your hand. You fought not to pull your hand away as your hand began to sting again.

“There,” Snufkin said, letting your hand go, “That should help it heal.” You hummed in acknowledgment before looking back at the fire. Snufkin shifted beside you, but you paid him no mind.

“Here you go,” He called out, tapping your shoulder. He placed the fish that was on a piece of cloth onto your lap. You flinched, thinking that it was going to burn you again but were shocked when you felt no such thing.

“You can eat it now; It’s cooled down enough,” Snufkin explained, taking a bite of his own. You gingerly picked up the fish before taking a small bite of it.

You hummed in delight and smiled, kicking your feet in the dirt a little. Snufkin looked at you smiling.

“It tastes better, doesn’t it?” He asked, taking another bite of his fish.

“Good,” You mumbled. You continued eating in silence with him. When the two of you had finished, you discarded the remains before standing up. You patted both of his shoulders with your hands saying,

“Stay,”

With that, you flew off.

You flew over to the woods you were previously homed in, searching for a certain kind of plant you had spotted during your initial fly-by. You foraged around on the ground for close to 10 minutes before you found what you were looking for: Elderberries. You gathered them in the cloth that Snufkin had given to you and flew back to him.

As you were approaching the area you had left him in, you heard music, much like the kind you heard last night. It was lovely.

When you touched down you noticed that Snufkin was blowing into some kind of metal object that was making the music you heard. Noticing your return, he stopped playing and looked towards you. You sprinted towards him and knelt down next to him smiling.

“So, why did you want me to wait here?” Snufkin asked, looking down at you. You gently placed the cloth in his lap, making sure its contents wouldn’t fall out, and pressed your face against the log next to him.

“Thank you,” You said. He looked at what you had given shocked before saying,

“Where on Earth did you manage to find Elderberries?” He looked down at you surprised, only receiving a smile from you in response.

“Well, wherever you managed to find these, thank you,” Snufkin said, running his warm hands through your hair.

Oh, that felt good. You hummed in delight as Snufkin continued to stroke your hair. You had never been this close to another being. He was so gentle with you that it almost made you cry. You were so used to people fighting you or trying to get you away from them that Snufkin’s attitude was such a shock to you.

You sat there, head in his lap, as he continued to stroke your hair and talked about anything that came to his mind. You perked up when you heard a voice in the distance from where you two were.

“Snufkin!” The voice shouted. Looking in that direction, you saw a white figure of sorts. It didn’t seem to have a very solid body shape like you and Snufkin had, instead looking more like a blob than a person. The figure was approaching surprisingly fast and, out of instinct, you stood up.

“Y/N?” Snufkin asked as you stared at the figure. The figure met your eyes and that’s what got you moving. You groaned, afraid, before turning and taking flight in the opposite direction, into the forest.

You heard Snufkin call out again to you, but you didn’t go back, you didn’t even look back. You felt a little bad leaving as suddenly as you did, but you didn’t know if you could trust that strange figure, so it’s better safe than sorry.

In the safety of the forest’s dense canopy, you watched the two of them interact. The white figure said something to Snufkin, pointing to the forest you were in. Snufkin said something in reply, but you obviously couldn’t make it out. You groaned quietly before turning and flying deeper into the forest, away from the unknown figure.

~~~~~~~~~~

You had spent the next few weeks visiting Snufkin when he was alone. Most of the time he seemed happy to see you and would ask you to join him in whatever activity he was doing. However, on the few times you did visit him and he was a bit persnickety you’d leave soon after not wanting to bother him.

During those weeks, Snufkin had taught you more words and how to form better sentences. Your speech was nowhere near perfect, but you found it much easier to convey your thoughts, which also made it easier for him to understand you.

Currently, you sat on the bridge in the late afternoon with Snufkin as he showed you how to fish. After a while of listening to him explain how to use a fishing rod and when to reel it in, you deemed it too complicated before rolling up your pants and stepping into the water.

The two of you fished in comfortable silence before Snufkin spoke up.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Snufkin began. You looked over at him, “What’s it like to fly?”

That question caught you off guard.

Very rarely did Snufkin ask you things and they were usually easy things to answer. This, however, would be a bit difficult.

You hummed in thought, not sure what to say.

“It is…nice. Refreshing,” You said after thinking about it for a moment, “It’s like…when you go out on a walk.” You added. You really didn’t know how to explain this.

Snufkin hummed and continued fishing with a small frown. You walked out of the water, shaking the water off of your legs, and over to Snufkin. You crouched next to him on the bridge and removed his hat.

“What are you doing?” He asked, letting you take the fishing rod from his hand. You reel in the line before placing it next to his hat. You got closer to him, there only being a few inches between you two, and gently grabbed his hands, wrapping them around your neck. You then wrapped your arms around his waist, pressing your chests flush against the other.

“W-Wha…?” Snufkin whispered, face red, as you held onto him tightly. Snufkin understood what you were trying to do when you jumped onto the railing of the bridge.

“Ah, w-wait!” He shouted, but his plea fell upon deaf ears. You push off of the railing and extend your wings, allowing the wind to help you into the air. You winced as Snufkin screamed next to your ear, his legs wrapping around your waist to secure himself to you.

“No-I don’t like this!” He shouted, pressing his face into your shoulder. You laughed lightly, flying up a bit higher. You flew relatively low to the ground -- or at least as low as you could due to the trees -- so as not to frighten him too much.

“You will like,” You said, continuing to glide around. You couldn’t move as fast as normal, not as high, but he didn’t need to know that. After letting him get used to the air, you called out to him.

“Hey, look,” You whispered. Snufkin pulled his face away from your shoulder and looked out into the sky. He hummed as he looked around.

“Oh, wow,” He sighed, eyes glancing all over the sky. You smiled softly at the look of awe and amazement on his face. The way that the wind blew through his brown hair and how the light bounced off of his flawless, sun-kissed skin made him look heavenly, absolutely lovely. Your stomach felt warm, chest tight, and you were sure it wasn’t just from Snufkin’s body. You squeezed him a little tighter when you felt your grip loosen slightly, worried you might drop him.

You looked away, face warm, and focused on flying instead. Snufkin shifted in your arms slightly to look at everything better.

“Do you do this every day?” Snufkin asked, pulling your attention from your thoughts and to him, “Fly, I mean.” He specified.

“Yes,” You answered, “It how I go most places.”

“What an amazing gift you have,” He mumbled. You were sure you weren’t meant to hear it, but it flattered you all the same. For a good part of your life, you resented having wings. A part of you always thought that your parents got rid of you because you weren’t like most “human” children, you had wings. You were amazed at how much power a single sentence from Snufkin had over you; how those six, simple words almost brought you to tears. You smiled softly, saying,

“I guess so.”

The rest of your flight was silent, the only noise being that of the wind in your ears and the songs of distant forest animals. You flew around with Snufkin for another few minutes before you felt the strain in your wings, the stress of carrying another person finally getting to you. You turned back to the bridge and made your descent.

You landed on the bridge, next to where you had left Snufkin’s things, but didn’t let go of the other quite yet. Your wings were trembling due to the stress of carrying him and you were panting slightly with your head resting on his shoulder.

“Are you alright?” Snufkin asked, rubbing your lower back. You hummed a ‘yes’ while pulling away from the other. When you parted, he continued to hold your hand.

“Not used to carry…person,” You explained, breathless.

“Why don’t I make you something while you rest? You deserve it after all,” Snufkin offered, retrieving his discarded item and walking off of the bridge, having you follow him.

“Sounds…good,” You said, sitting down on the ground. You watched Snufkin rummage around in his bag for a bit before you lay down on your side. You felt unbelievably tired. You had never worked yourself this hard before.

The last thing you remember seeing was Snufkin striking a fire.

You were awoken by Snufkin gently shaking your shoulder sometime later, telling you that the food was ready. The sun had already set and twilight was upon you. You smiled as you sat up and stretched; it seemed a short nap was all you needed.

Snufkin handed you a bowl of stew and a spoon before sitting down next to you. It was similar to the first one he had made for you the first night you met. The two of you ate quietly before Snufkin spoke up.

“Thank you,” He whispered, making you turn to him confused, “For sharing that experience with me.” You pulled the bowl away from your face and smiled.

“Thank you…for joining me,” You said, “I had fun.”

You finished your dinner in silence once more before rinsing out your bowl in the nearby stream (you noted a while ago that this was something Snufkin did) and handing the bowl to Snufkin. He thanked you before placing the items in his bag and extinguishing the fire. Snufkin placed his bag in the tent that he set up. You were about to wish him a good night and fly off somewhere for the night when he spoke up.

“Would you care to stay with me tonight?” Snufkin asked, pulling aside one of the flaps of his tent. You shook your head saying,

“Oh, no,” You smiled, “I know you like, um…privacy.” You hesitated, not sure if you used the right words, “I no want to bother.”

“You wouldn’t be a bother,” Snufkin rebuttal quickly, looking at you expectantly. You stared into his brown eyes before turning away from him. You knew that he was just trying to be courteous; he never liked being around people for too long.

“Good night,” You said, waving, before taking flight. You didn’t fail to notice the slight relief that washed over Snufkin’s face as you pushed off of the ground and flew deep into the dense forest for the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Snufkin had invited you to go, what he called, ‘Mushroom Hunting” with him. You had injured your left leg a few days prior due to having fallen out of a tree while sleeping. It left a nasty gash on the less meaty and more bony part of your ankle, which was making it difficult to walk around. Despite having cleaned it off in a nearby stream soon after injury, it hadn’t been healing that much and instead seemed to be getting worse.

You carried on, however, and joined Snufkin in his hunt for mushrooms.

It was a much warmer summer day and when you went to visit Snufkin, you noted the changes to his outfit. He had left his coat with the rest of his things -- in one of the more secluded areas so others wouldn’t find it -- and switched out his cream-colored shirt with a green one. His usual green pants were rolled up about mid-calf while he wore the same brown boots, his yellow scarf tied into a loose knot around his hat.

Something about seeing him so dressed down made you feel light. You felt warmth in parts of your body that were normally cold like your hands and feet and your muscles were tense. Your stomach fluttered, but not in the same way it would when you flew, and your chest felt almost uncomfortably tight. Almost.

“You ready?” Snufkin asked. His voice was as smooth and serene, calming as always. It never failed to give you a sense of tranquility and safety.

“Yes,” You said, walking to the best of your ability beside the other. You had been limping a little since yesterday, but it didn’t concern you too much. You wrapped the injury up with some discarded cloth to prevent anything from hitting or getting into it.

The two of you walked around in the densely populated forest, looking near the base of trees and cracks of rocks for mushrooms and other wild plants. You didn’t find that many edible mushrooms -- the majority of them hen-of-the-woods or oyster mushrooms with the occasional sulphur shelf mushroom -- but you did find a lot of other plants.

Snufkin was careful when harvesting the mushrooms, cutting them at their base and placing them in the small cloth bag he brought with him.

Snufkin had asked that you look for other kinds of plants and after he gave you a bag you were off on your own. You found a good amount of plants like dandelions and purple dead nettles that you would be able to brew into tea, along with others like milkweeds, lily shoots, yarrows, violets, and nettles. Your bag was barely able to hold everything.

You looked for Snufkin only 10-ish minutes after leaving his side.

“Back!” You shouted when you spotted him. He turned to you and waved you over. You limped over to him as fast, and smoothly, as you could, which was something Snufkin noted. He frowned as you approached him.

“Are you alright?” He asked, grabbing the bag you offered to him.

“I’m okay,” You lied, picking a small, yellow flower nearby. You honestly felt awful; Your leg ached and your head hurt, along with feeling warmer than usual. But you didn’t want to ruin Snufkin’s day, knowing that he had been looking forward to going foraging with you.

“Are you sure?” Snufkin asked, gently holding one of your hands, “You’re limping.” He added, looking down at your leg.

“I’m sure,” You answered, pulling yourself away from him and tucking the flower into the scarf that was around his hat, “Keep looking.”

Snufkin’s eyes lingered on you a little longer before he looked away and sighed.

“Alright,” He said, following you.

You continued to look around the forest for various plant life with Snufkin before resting below a tree for a moment. You quietly conversed with Snufkin for a few minutes until your voice faded off before going silent. At first, you just had a minor headache, but now it felt like someone was constantly hitting you against both of your temples and your ankle was starting to throb. The ache in your chest was also making it a bit difficult for you to breathe properly. Snufkin quickly took notice.

“Y/N?” He asked, resting his hand on your shoulder, “Are you okay?”

You were about to respond with another ‘I’m okay’ when you gasped in pain, clutching at your ankle as another wave of pain coursed through it.

“What’s-” Snufkin said fearfully, his hand hovering over yours as he looked over you. He placed a hand on your forehead and grimaced, “Goodness, you’re burning up.”

“I-I’m…” You tore your head away from Snufkin’s grasp and attempted to stand up. You groaned in pain and fell back down against the boulder you two were previously leading on, cradling your injured leg. Snufkin looked down at your leg, placing a gentle hand on the makeshift bandages.

“What happened?” He asked.

“Fell…” You groaned, tugging at the wrappings.

Snufkin, noticing your struggle, hooked a finger underneath the bloodstained cloth and unwrapped it. He gasped at the sight that greeted him.

“Oh, Y/N…” Snufkin whispered, covering his mouth with one of his hands. The wound had opened up again, no doubt because of you overextending it, and was bleeding quite a bit. Your ankle was red and swollen and hurt like all hell.

“When did you do this?” Snufkin questioned quickly, digging through his pockets for the few bandages that he always kept on him. You didn’t answer. He hesitated while pulling them out, looking over the wound more, before sighing and leaving them where they were.

“I think it’s infected,” Snufkin said, moving your leg around slightly, causing you to groan. He apologized, patting your thigh sympathetically, “There’s not much I can do until we get it sterilized.”

You furrowed your brows at the unfamiliar word, continuing to cradle your leg. Snufkin stood up, holding out a hand to you.

“Can you walk?” Snufkin asked. You bit your lip before taking Snufkin’s hand and standing up.

“Here, come with me,” He added.

You whined as you tried to put weight on your left leg, pulling it back up as a searing pain ran up all the way from your ankle up to your thigh. You flutter above the ground, hand still in Snufkin’s, as you allow Snufkin to lead you out of the forest area.

“I know a few people who can help you,” Snufkin said as you two reached the clearing where his things were left. It felt as if a heavy weight had pressed down into your stomach as he said those words. You pulled away from him, feet hitting the ground as you quickly exclaimed,

“No! No others-” You forced the words out of your mouth, hugging yourself and backing away slightly from him, “They-They’ll hurt!”

“What?” Snufkin asked, taken aback by your words. Never in his life would he expect someone to suggest that the Moomins would hurt someone without just cause, “They would never! The Moomins are very kind beings. They’ll help you, no questions asked!” He said, taking a step closer to you. You backed up, body tense. His honey-brown, almost amber, eyes stared into your E/C ones, practically begging you to come with him. You turned away.

“N-No…” You mumbled. Snufkin sighed, running his hand through the hair that wasn’t covered by his hat.

“Fine, fine, just…” He muttered, his voice trailing off in thought, “I’ll set up my tent and see what I can do to tend to it.”

Your shoulders sagged in relief and you helped Snufkin set his tent up the best you could. After that was done, he ushered you inside while he rummaged around outside. When he came back, he had a bowl of water and began searching his bag for a couple of rags. He soaked two of them, ringing them out before folding one of them and placing it on your forehead. You sighed as the rag cooled your burning face before yelping when you felt a tug at your leg.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” Snufkin said, gently placing the other cool rag on your wound. You groaned at the burn it caused but didn’t fight him.

You felt ungodly tired, your conscience fading in and out, while your body was unbelievably hot. You gently tapped at your side to get Snufkin’s attention.

“I…sleep,” You mumbled, eyelids falling shut. You heard Snufkin say something to you, placing a hand on your shoulder, but your brain couldn’t make sense of it.

Snufkin’s hand on your cheek was the last thing you could remember before you slipped out of conscience.

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

Saying that Snufkin was worried would be the understatement of the year. He tended to your injured ankle, replacing the cloth on your forehead with a cold one every now and then. He had washed your ankle off with clean, cold water and wrapped it with actual bandages, draping his coat over your shivering body. If you didn’t break your fever before nightfall, he had to take you to get outside help, whether you liked it or not.

Only when he was sure that he had done everything that he could for you for the time being, he left to gather the plants you two had collected earlier. Snufkin felt somewhat ill when he looked at the small clearing in the forest where you dropped your things earlier. He silently gathered everything up before heading back to his tent.

Once there, Snufkin organized your findings and put them away, tending to you in any way he could. It took him a couple of hours before he finished, nighttime was already upon you two. He checked your sleeping form, noting your irregular, labored breathing and flush face. Your fever was still very much present and that’s when he decided he needed to get you help.

Snufkin left you once again, quickly making his way to the Moomin house. He knocked on the door hoping that it was still early enough in the night that they would answer. To his delight, Moominmama answered, straightening her apron out as she glanced up.

“Snufkin, what a pleasant surprise,” Moominmama said smiling, “Where’s your coat? Please, come in.”

“Not now, Moominmama,” Snufkin said, holding his hand out to her, “I need your help. A friend of mine was injured badly.” He added.

“Oh my, where are they?” She asked, concerned, covering her mouth with her hand and glancing about.

“They’re in my tent resting, but I’ve helped them all I can already,” Snufkin explained, “Would it be alright if I brought them here for you to treat?”

“Why of course!” Moominmama exclaimed, turning back into her home to gather the items needed to tend to you, “Do you need help moving them?”

“I do,” Snufkin said, stepping into the house, “Could you get Moominpapa or Moomintroll to help?” he asked.

“Moomintroll!” Moominmama shouted.

“Yes, Mama?” Moomintroll answered back, standing at the top of the staircase. Moomintroll looked down, “Snufkin!” He shouted, walking down the stairs to greet the other.

“Snufkin needed help bringing someone here. Please help him,” Moominmama said, digging around the cabinets for medical items.

“Someone?” Moomintroll asked, confused.

“Yes, come with me,” Snufkin said, taking Moomintroll’s hand and running back to his tent. The whole walk there, Moomintroll was asking Snufkin about you -- who you were, what you looked like, how badly you were injured -- only to receive one or two-word responses.

Once the two of them got there Snufkin let go of Moomintroll’s hand and said,

“Alright, they should still be asleep. I’ll need you to carry them,” Snufkin opened the tent to find you still asleep, breathing shallowly. He crawled back in, keeping Moomintroll out as he kept trying to peer in at you.

Snufkin grabbed you by your shoulders and pulled you toward the entrance of the tent.

“They’re a bit skittish, so you’re going to have to be gentle with them,” Snufkin explained, pulling you all of the way out of the tent.

“Hey, isn’t this the same person I saw a few weeks ago?” Moomintroll asked once he finally got a good look at you, holding his arms out to carry you.

“Yes,” Snufkin answered, placing you in Moomintroll’s arms, “Watch their back.”

“What are you…Oh-” Moomintroll asked, stopping himself mid-sentence. He looked down at you in amazement and at your wings as they sagged against the ground, limp.

“What…are they?” Moomintroll asked, looking back up at Snufkin, who was dismantling his tent and putting the parts in his bag.

“I’m not sure,” Snufkin admitted, slinging his bag onto his back, “Something unique, I suppose. Let’s head back.” He added, tucking your wings against your back the best he could.

Moomintroll struggled slightly carrying you due to your wings going limp and falling out and against the ground every now and again. He managed as it was a short walk over to Moomin’s house. Moominmama was waiting at the door for their return, face filled with worry as your figure came into sight.

“Oh my…” Moominmama whispered, holding her arms out and plucking you out of Moomintroll’s hold. She glanced over your frame, eyes lingering on your wings, and asked after not noticing anything immediately wrong, “What happened to them?”

“They injured their ankle a couple of days ago and it got infected,” Snufkin explained, walking into the house after the others and closing the door, “They’ve also had a fever for a few hours.”

Moominmama carried you, much like a mother would a child, up the stairs and into the spare bedroom where she already had all the medical supplies set up. She placed your unconscientious form on the bed, mindful of your wings. She removed the bandages Snufkin put on your ankle before taking a look at it.

“They hurt themself pretty bad,” Moominmama hummed, rummaging through the basket of medicinal items, “But it’s nothing I can’t fix.” She added, much to Snufkin’s relief.

“Hey! Let me in, I wanna see too!” The three heard a shrill voice shout from somewhere outside the door.

“Not yet, Little My. Let Moominmama tend to them and then you can see them,” Another, calmer, voice explained. The two bickered back and forth for a while before they left.

“I had Moominpapa take care of Little My,” Moominmama said, wiping down your ankle with clean, warm water, “I wanted to make sure they wouldn’t be bothered by Little My while they tried to recover.”

Moominmama placed a cool, wet towelette on your forehead before grabbing the rubbing alcohol from the basket. She soaked a clean rag with it then grabbed your foot, just below your injury. As gently as she could, she began disinfecting the wound with the alcohol-soaked rag.

You groan in your sleep, drawing Snufkin’s attention away from Moomintroll’s questions, and pulled your ankle out of Moominmama’s grasp, curling on your side and facing away from the three.

“Oh, I know, dear, but this must be done,” Moominmama said apologetically, grabbing your ankle once again and cleaning it off. You whined more in your sleep, a noise that Snufkin disliked hearing, but didn’t pull away like you had before.

Moominmama was quick to patch you up before she tucked you in; She hesitated as she brought the blanket up past your shoulders, opting to rest it at your waist unsure whether you wanted them covered or not.

“They are quite lovely,” Moominmama hummed, gently stroking your hair out of your face. Moominmama replaced the now warm towelette on your forehead with a cold one and began packing everything away.

“Do you want to stay with them for the night, Snufkin?” Moominmama asked.

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Snufkin replied, sitting down in the chair that was next to your bedside. Snufkin took your limp hand into his own, running his thumb over your palm. You hummed in your sleep before turning away from the other, taking your hand with you.

“Come now, Moomin, let’s let them rest,” Moominmama said, ushering said Moomin out of the room, “Goodnight, Snufkin.”

“Goodnight, Moominmama and Moomintroll,” Snufkin said, eyes never leaving you, as the door behind the two closed. Snufkin heard Little My shout something about wanting to see you, but he ignored it in favor of watching over you.

It had been around an hour when exhaustion really began to hit Snufkin. He wanted to stay awake in case you woke up and needed him, but he just couldn’t seem to keep his eyes open and before he knew it, he was drifting asleep in the uncomfortable wooden chair.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Snufkin woke up due to a knock at the door. He stretched before opening the door to see Moominmama standing in the hallway along with Moomintroll and Moominpapa, the latter holding a squirming Little My in his arms.

“Are they awake yet?” Moominmama asked, peeking over Snufkin’s shoulder to catch a glance of you.

Snufkin looked behind him before answering, “Not yet.”

Moominmama hummed, stepping inside before tending to you, the others following behind her.

“Woah,” Little My said, rushing up to your bedside to get a good look at you, “What is that thing?” She asked.

“Oh, be nice!” Moomintroll said, nudging Little My’s shoulder and pulling her away, the smaller sticking her tongue out at him childishly.

Moominmama removed the warm towellet and checked for a fever, relieved to see that your fever had broken sometime during the night. She wiped away the remaining water on your head and checked the bandages for any signs of lifting or unraveling.

During her examination, you had kicked your leg away from Moominmama before beginning to stretch your body. Your body relaxed before your E/C eyes fluttered open, landing on Moominmama herself. You gasped as your eyes focused and you backed away from the Moomin, back pressing against the wall in a panic.

Your breathing was uneven as you glanced around the room, eyes flickering quickly between the Moomins. You opened and closed your mouth a few times with broken words and incoherent noises being the only things that left it.

“Why?” Was the only thing you were able to rasp out as your eyes fell on Snufkin who had stood up from the chair next to you.

“It’s alright, dear,” Moominmama said in a comforting tone, “We’re not going to hurt you. I’m just here to help you,”

You shook your head and curled into yourself, knees pressed almost painfully against your chest.

“Away,” You mumbled, “Get away!”

Moominmama took a step back from you and spoke.

“Let’s give them some space, yes? They must be frightened,” She said, ushering the others out of the room, “If you need anything, just call for us.” She added quietly to you.

You glanced up at her voice and didn’t miss the kind smile she flashed you. You noticed that in the group of people leaving, Snufkin was among them. Before you could think, you reached out to him and shouted,

“Not you!” Everyone turned around to see you pointing to Snufkin, “You can stay.” You added.

Moominmama nodded and motioned for everyone to leave the two of you alone. She whispered something you couldn’t hear to Snufkin as she left the room. Snufkin closed the door before approaching you cautiously, worried that he might frighten you, and sat in the chair by your bedside.

You stared at him as he sat down and stayed quiet for a few moments, trying to find the right words.

“Why…bring me here?” You asked hesitantly. Snufkin shifted in his seat before answering.

“You needed help,” He said, “I had done all that I could do to help you.”

You hummed in acknowledgment, looking away from him. You knew he was right and as uncomfortable as it made you, by bringing you here Snufkin had probably saved your life. It was quiet before you spoke up again.

“Who are they?” you asked.

“Well, the woman you were talking to is Moominmama. She was the one who tended to your injuries. Then there’s Moomintroll who helped carry you here,” Snufkin explained, glancing over to see you listening to him curiously.

“There’s also Moominpapa, who is Moominmama’s husband, and Little My, who was the little girl that was in here that is also my sister.” Snufkin continued.

“Moominmama…” You murmured in thought, “Is she…nice?’ You asked.

“Yes,” Snufkin answered, “She’s very nice. Moominpapa and Moomintroll are also nice.”

“Not the little one?” You asked, looking up at him. Snufkin shook his head.

“Not at first, but she’ll warm up to you,” Snufkin said with a small smile, “She…won’t actually hurt you if that’s what you’re worried about.”

You hugged your knees closer to yourself, ignoring the dull ache in your ankle as you did so. You thought for a moment before beginning to stand up. Snufkin noticed this and stood up quickly and took a step towards you, extending a hand out towards you.

“Do you need any help?” He asked, a mere foot away from you. You shook your head as you continued moving to the edge of the bed. Snufkin moves out of the way to allow you to get off as you swing your legs over the edge, first your right foot, then your left. You stood up and shifted your weight on each foot before walking towards the door with Snufkin only a foot away and ready to catch you.

You heard a quiet conversation on the other side of the door as you got closer to it, mainly consisting of a sweet, calm voice. Slowly opening the door the conversation abruptly stops and you peek your head out to meet the faces of four people, three Moomins and a Mumrik.

“Hello, dear,” Moominmama greeted with a soft smile, “How are you feeling?”

“Feeling…better,” You answered, pushing the door open a little further but not yet walking out. You turned back to look at Snufkin unsure of who was who.

“Could you step in for a moment, Moominmama?” Snufkin asked, pulling you back from the door.

“Of course,” She answered, walking through the threshold and closing the door behind her, “Do you need to be treated anymore, dear?” She asked you.

“They’re alright for now. They just wanted to meet you,” Snufkin spoke for you after noticing your discomfort. The Moomin looked over at you, a gentle smile gracing her soft, round face.

“Hello,” You mumbled, shifting your weight from one foot to the other, biting your lip as the left ankle began to ache.

“Oh, dear, please sit down! Your ankle has only just begun to heal. I’d hate for you to become any more injured.” Moominmama said worried and reached out a hand to hold yours, the other resting on your shoulder. You stiffened at the contact but relaxed once she only guided you to a chair.

“I’m thinking it will take around a week for your ankle to heal to the point where you’ll be able to walk normally. Two weeks for it to fully heal.” Moominmama explained, her eyes drifting from your face to your back. Your wings twitched uncomfortably under her gaze, and you brought your knees up to your face as a comfort. Snufkin laid a hand on your shoulder to calm you, which made Moominmama look back up at your face.

“Oh, pardon my rudeness!” She apologized, “How about I make us all some tea? That way we can answer any questions you have. How does that sound?”

“What’s…tea?” You asked.

“It’s a kind of drink,” Snufkin explained, “I promise it will be nice. I’ll make sure everyone gives you the space you need.” He said, taking your hands into his own, warm ones. You thought for a moment before answering.

“Ok.”

Moominmama cleared her throat beside the two of you, prompting Snifkin to let go of your hands. He offered you a small smile before Moominmama ushered all three of you out of the small bedroom and into the hallway. Snufkin walked out in front of you, with Moominmama being the first one out, to try and make you as comfortable as he could.

“I’m going to make us all some tea to make our guest more comfortable,” Moominmama said, walking down the stairs.

“Hey, they’re up.” The short girl, who you presumed was Little My, shouted, drawing attention to you. Everyone who had been waiting in the hallway all turned to you.

“Oh wow. They’re so tall!” A short and stocky Moomin shouted excitedly, running up to measure his height against yours. You stood still as he pressed his shoulder to yours, his head barely reaching your chin even as he stood up straight and you hunched.

“Don’t be rude now, Moomin,” Another Moomin, one looking exactly like the other who was pressed to your arm, said while pulling the other away from you.

“Please excuse him; He’s still but only a boy,” The Moomin explained. Looking at him now, you noted that he was taller than the Moomin who was next to you and was wearing a black top hat.

“My name is Moominpapa,” He said, extending his hand out. You stared at it a moment before grasping it, allowing your hand to be shaken up and down, “And this is Moomintroll. Say hi, Moomin.”

“Hello!” Moomintroll shouted eagerly, practically vibrating where he was standing, “It’s so nice to meet you.”

You stared at him a moment before pointing to yourself.

“Y/N,” You said. They stayed quiet expecting you to say more, but you remained silent.

“It’s a pleasure to have you as company, Y/N,” Moominpapa said with a nod of his head.

You felt a tug at the bottom of one of your wings and looked down to see Little My pulling at them rather harshly.

“Are these real?” She asked. You merely pulled your wing out of her grasp in response. She gasped as the soft feathers slipped out of her hand before trying to grab at you again. You pivoted in a circle as she continued to run around you in an attempt to tug at your wing again while Shufkin bent down and picked her up.

“Leave them be. You wouldn’t want someone pulling your clothes or hair now would you?” Snufkin said. Little My squirmed in his arms a moment more before accepting defeat and laying limp in his grasp.

“Dear, the tea is ready.” You hear Moominmama call from the kitchen.

“That’s our cue,” Moominpapa said, ushering the four of you down the stairs, “Let’s not keep her waiting.” Moominpapa was still cautious of your injury and offered you a hand.

Stepping out into the foyer, you gazed around at the small living room and peered into the kitchen that was adjacent to the staircase. There was something so comforting about the small living room that calmed you. Still, you couldn’t help but think about running out through the front door at the end of the staircase.

Noticing your hesitance to walk into the kitchen, Moomintroll took your hand in his and led you to the kitchen with a gentle smile. Snufkin dropped Little My onto one of the oddly cut pieces of wood that surrounded the table. Your hand fell out of the Moomin’s as you made your way to the table and tapped one of the pieces of wood. Looking up at Snufkin you asked,

“What is this?”

Before Snufkin could answer, Moomintroll spoke up first.

“That’s a chair,” He said, “Have you never seen one before?” He asked, tilting his head to the side. You shook your head.

“How strange. Where are you from?” Moomin asked.

“Let them sit and have some tea first, then we can ask questions.” Moominmama interrupted while placing a tray -- that had a pot and cups on it -- down on the table. Snufkin showed you how to sit properly in the chair while everyone else sat down. Moominmama poured you a cup of tea telling you to be careful since it was still hot.

“So,” Moominmama said while taking a seat at the head of the table, “If I may ask, where are you from, dear? I don’t recognize you.” You frowned.

“Don’t…know,” You mumbled, “I don’t remember. Was left alone when I was a child.”

“Aww, that’s so sad,” Moomintroll said frowning, “Do you remember anything from before you were left alone?”

“No. Nothing,” You answered, “I came here from…from up. It was getting cold.”

“So it’s like you migrated from the North?” Moominpapa asked.

“Migrated?” You repeated.

“Migrated. It’s something that birds do,” Snufkin explained, “During the winter time, birds will travel south since it’s warmer there and then return north after winter has passed.”

“Oh,” You whispered, “Yes, I migrated.”

“Well just know you are always welcome here in the Moomin house,” Moominmama said, taking a sip of her tea. You grabbed the cup and mimicked her movements. The tea wasn’t all that good. It just tasted like slightly sweeter water, but you drank it nonetheless grateful that she had given it to you.

You continued to talk to the Moomins and Snufkin for the better part of the day. It mainly consisted of them asking you something and you answering with some half-baked sentence that you weren’t sure made sense, but that they seemed to understand.

You had only realized how long you all had been talking when Moomintroll invited you and Snufkin to join him and Little My outside, as by then it was already afternoon. You watch the other two run out the front door while Snufkin helped you up and out of the house. Moominmama and Moominpapa wished you well as you were led out onto the porch. Snufkin sat you down on the porch while the others ran out onto the grass in front of the house.

“So, can you actually fly or are the wings just for show?” Little My asked. You shook your head ‘yes.’

“Well then, show us!” She shouted, “I’ve been dying to see it.”

“Little My, they are still injured.” Shufkin said. You place your hand on Snufkin’s shoulder and pull yourself up. You smiled at Little My and waved your hand.

“Come,” You said, “I will fly.”

Little My ran over to you and stood with her hands on her hips. You picked her up despite the little struggle she put up and hugged her to your chest.

“Ready?” You ask.

“Huh!?” She squeaks into your chest before you take off. You watch as Snufkin and Moomintroll become smaller and smaller as you ascend, all the while Little My is yelling and clutching your chest and waist. You didn’t fly very far nor very high, just high enough so she could understand what it felt like.

Your flying stuttered as she grabbed the cloak on your back and pulled it over your wings partially, causing her to scream louder as you dipped for a moment. You laughed lightly at her screaming.

“No, you okay!” You shouted over the wind in your ears.

“No, I’m not! Put me down, put me down!” She cried.

“You want me to fly? I fly!” You yell, tossing her up and quickly catching her, smiling at the way she screamed and begged to be put down. After a moment you complied, gently descending to the ground and placing a disoriented Little My down only for her to fall face-first into the grass. She gripped the ground hard, little blades of grass escaping in between her fingers, and muttered into the ground.

“Oh, how I’ve missed you ground!” Little My shouted and you laughed. You soon saw Moomintroll and Snufkin run over, smiles plastered on both of their faces.

“Wow, that was so cool!” Moonintroll exclaimed, wonder apparent on his face, “Can you do that with me?”

“Not sure,” You answer uncertainty.

“Maybe they can try another time after they’ve fully healed?” Snufkin tells Moomintroll. Moomintroll’s head falls slightly.

“Yeah, maybe another time,” He whispers. Feeling bad, you place a hand on his shoulder and he looks up at you.

“Another time,” You say, and he smiles more confidently.

Snufkin offers you a hand to help you return to the porch with the others. You sit back down and watch as the others play in the sunlight. They do what they can to include you, but you understand that it’s difficult considering your condition.

Sometime during the afternoon, Moominmama came to speak to you with Moominpapa trailing behind her.

“Please pardon our rudeness, but if I may, can we touch your wings? They look so beautiful,” She asks softly, and who are you to deny her? You spread your wings out towards them and watch as Moominmama slowly reaches out to touch them.

Warmth is the first thing you register. Warmth, quickly followed by pressure to the tip of your left wing. One hand cradled the feathers with the other gently slid over them, similar to how one would pet a cat. Soon, another pair of hands joined her on your other wing.

“Oh my,” Moominmama whispers, entranced by the silky softness that is your wings, “I have never seen something so beautiful. You are quite fortunate to have been born this way.”

You hum as a reply, your eyes falling shut at the cadenced petting of your wings. It was soothing, both the delicate pressure and rhythmic nature of her strokes. You begin to lean to your side, your head falling into Moominmama’s lap. Moominpapa releases your wings as Moominmama giggles lightly, starting to stroke your hair instead.

“You’re quite young too, aren’t you? Around Snufkin’s age, if I had to guess,” Moominmpapa ponders, but you barely hear it as you rest in other’s lap, dully watching the others continue to flock in the late afternoon light.

Moominmama would later call in the others for dinner as twilight approached. She cooked a lovely meal of red Borscht soup and sourdough bread with fruit galettes for dessert. You had never tasted anything so delicious in your life, it made you want to cry. While the food Snufkin would cook was good, it wasn’t anything near as rich as Moominmama’s.

Before you knew it, your plate was cleared and as you bit into the galette you felt tears prick at your eyes and hum happily as the sweet jam touched your tongue. Snufkin leaned over and brushed a thumb over your cheek, wiping the tear away.

“Are you alright?” He asked, worry evident on his face. You nod your head, ‘yes.’

“So…good,” You whimpered, shoving the rest of the dessert into your mouth. Moominmama and Moominpapa quickly came over and embraced you on either side. Their embrace is warm, comforting, as Moominpapa spoke up,

“You will always have a place here, [Y/N].”

You stare at him, eyes wide and unblinking, as more tears start to well up in your eyes and you can do nothing to stop them from falling down your cheeks and the sobs from bubbling up your throat and tumbling out of your mouth.

The others at the table are quick to join you: Moomintroll hugs you from behind, Little My hugs your leg, and Snufkin hugs your chest as best he can. You wrapped your arms around Snufkin and squeezed, tears falling freely and cries loud and unfiltered.

“Thank you!” You shouted between sobs. You heaved forward, chin resting on Snufkin’s shoulders as the others embraced you tighter, simultaneously both too much and not enough and you had no idea how to feel.

Is this what company was like? Have you really been missing out on this your whole life?

Is this what it was like to be loved?

The others pulled away from you after a moment, all except for Snufkin who continued to hold your hands gently even after moving back.

“You’ll be safe here, with the Moomins,” Snufkin whispered, “I promise.”

And you believed him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Winter in Moominvalley came much sooner than you expected.

It seemed that as soon as your ankle had healed and you had gotten to know the Moomins, they began their yearly hibernation ritual. Snufkin explained it to you when they first started the process.

“Every year at winter time, the Moomins hibernate,” You hear him say, “It’s like how you move away from the cold in winter, except they sleep through the cold weather and wake up when it becomes warm again in the spring.”

“They sleep?” You asked, “The whole time? How do they stay asleep for so long?”

Snufkin laughed,

“I’m not sure. It’s a mystery to me too.”

Snufkin looked away from you and at the stream in front of you where you both were sat on its shore.

“Do you also sleep?” You questioned. Snufkin shook his head with a smile.

“No, I travel elsewhere during the winter here,” He answered.

“Where do you go?”

“Wherever the world wants me to go.”

You hum, laying down on the grass more and spreading your wings to bask in the fleeting sunlight and cool breeze.

“Where will you go?” Snufkin asks quietly.

“I don’t know. I don’t actually have anywhere to go,” You said, looking up at him.

Snufkin is beautiful. The fading sunlight highlights his short, chestnut hair in the best possible way as the same light brightens his usually dark brown -- almost black -- eyes. The green of his clothes complements his olive tones perfectly and you can’t pull your eyes away from him no matter how hard you try.

“Why don’t you come with me?” Snufkin asks and for a moment you’re too stunned by his beauty to answer. Your eyes widen as his words sink in and you sit up with a jolt.

“Really? You want me to travel with you?” You asked, unsure if you understood him correctly.

“Yes really. I would be honored if you joined me in my travels,” Snufkin said smiling at you, “You make great company.”

“I thought you liked traveling alone? Because you get tired of people?” You said eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“I do, but I could never become tired of you,”

Your face feels warm now and it’s not just from the sun. You swear your heart stops for an instant and you grip your chest in worry. His smile is so warm, so soft, and it’s directed at you and only you.

When you find your voice, your words are quick to tumble out.

“I’d love nothing more than to stay with you,” You whisper, scooting over closer to Snufkin. He places his hand overtop yours and the warmth that envelopes your whole body from the simple action is almost too much for you to handle.

“I’m so glad,” He whispers back, leaning closer to you, “I’ve grown quite fond of you from our time together.” He smiles.

“Actually, there’s something more I��ve wanted to tell you,” Snufkin says suddenly and pulls away from you, and you mourn the lost contact.

“Do you know what it’s like to be loved?” Snufkin asks, his eyes staring deep into yours as his heavy question sinks in. You hum in thought and look away, thinking back to all the other relationships you have observed.

“I believe I know what love is,” You start, looking back into Snufkin’s amber eyes, “Moominmama and Moominpapa both love Moomintroll, and Moomintroll also loves Moominmama and Moominpapa. You love Little My and, which she doesn’t always show, she loves you too. You love Moomintroll, and Moomintroll loves you. Annnd…And I love you all, and you all love me!”

“But do you know of another kind of love?” Snufkin continues, holding both of your hands and holding them in between you two, “The way that Moominmama loves Moominpapa, and Moominpapa loves Moominmama?”

You’re silent as you ponder this. Come to think of it, you had never given their relationship much thought, assuming that they were always together.

“I haven’t,” You answered.

“It’s…a warm feeling,” Snufkin begins, taking a firm hold of your hands and pressing them to your chest, “It starts in your chest. You feel an unusual, but not uncomfortable, warmth begin to form in the center of your chest, in your heart,” He circles your sternum with your hand in his.

“Then, it starts to work its way throughout your whole chest, moving from your heart to your lungs, to your stomach, and to your shoulders,” His hands trail along your body as he speaks, and your breath hitches with every gentle graze his knuckles make to your bare skin in some areas.

“From there, the warmth continues to travel to each appendage, from your shoulders to the tips of your fingers and from your thighs to the tips of your toes. And in your specific case, from your back to the tips of your longest feathers,” Your wings twitch subconsciously at the mention of them and your fingers when Snufkin lets them go to travel down your legs and to your ankles before releasing them.

“And then?” You ask meekly, and he giggles.

“And then, the warmth goes up your neck,” His fingers trail your collarbones before going up your neck, a hand on each side, “And it settles into your face, turning you as red as a tomato!” He finished, his hands cupping both of your cheeks in his hands and you gasped.

“You turn into a tomato?!” You shout, hands holding Snufkin’s to prevent him from pulling them away.

“No, no, you don’t turn into a tomato. Your face just becomes red from blush, making you look like a tomato,” Snufkin explains, his smile never wavering. You sigh out an ‘oh’ and tilt your head.

“But what causes this love? Why is it different from the other ways we love?” You ask.

“It’s caused by a single person,” Snufkin whispers, his face inching just barely closer to yours as if he was telling you a secret, “This person becomes very special to you. You want them to be with you as long as possible. You want to protect them the best you can. You want to cherish them and honor them with all your being.”

Snufkin pauses.

“This person makes you feel whole,” He finished, and he is now mere inches away from you, his hands still cupping your cheeks with his fingertips brushing along your jawline and thumbs stroking the apples of your cheeks.

“Have you ever felt this love before?” He asks again.

Without hesitation, you answer,

“I have.”

The air is silent before Snufkin speaks up.

“[Y/N].” He whispers.

“Yes, Snufkin?” You answer.

“I love you.”

And with that, the distance between you two is closed. Warmth flows within both of you, radiating from where both of you were joined by the gentle connection of soft lips.

“I love you too.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

In another place, at another time, two lovers sat down together along the cliffside to watch the sun set below the horizon and bring forth the cool nighttime. Warmed by each others’ embrace, One turned to the Other and spoke,

“Other?”

“Yes, One?” They answer.

“Do you think in our next lives, we’ll still love each other?” One asked, and the Other smiled.

“What kind of question is that?” The Other asked, “Of course we would be.”

“I hope so,” One had sighed in response, “In my next life, I hope that I’m me again so that I can find you and fall in love with you again!”

The Other laughed at this and pressed a kiss to One’s cheek.

“Then I hope I’m also me again so that you can find me and I can love you again as well.”

#Moomin #Moomin 1990 #moominvalley #moominvalley snufkin #snufkin x reader #moominvalley x reader #moomin x reader #moomintroll #little my #moominmamma #moominpappa #thewildsophiawrites

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icey--stars · 8 months

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Vanserra Brothers (Headcanons)

Headcanons for each of of the Vanserra brothers. All 7, including the ones who passed in the Spring Court incident.

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

Day 1 of @erisweek2023 (Brotherhood / Family)

a/n: welcome to Eris Week 2023 everyone! I have a couple headcanons coming toward you that will include the headcanons that Born for Tragedy is set in as well as other future stories about Eris or Lucien! So... if anyone starts wondering about my headcanons, bOOM. I had too much fun with this one.

So… let’s start with family/brother headcanons. (post-beron’s death because fuck that guy) also I added a bit of dad!Helion in this because in my hopeful heart, I want the Vanserra brothers to have a real dad.

WARNINGS: MENTIONS ABUSE/TORTURE, VERY ANGSTY, TRAUMA DISCUSSED AND BAD TRAUMA RESPONSES

I hope you enjoy it regardless though! This was actually quite fun to make because I can use it for my other stories when I talk about the Vanserra brothers :)

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

So, Eris has 4 brothers that are still alive. I’ve already named them in Born for Tragedy, but I plan to use the HC across many different stories, so let's talk about them.

Jax is the second eldest Vanserra. He’s probably the one who got abused the least because his personality and stoicness is exactly what Beron wanted for a son.

However, he is widely regarded as having snails for brains, so Eris still got the general position while Beron lived because Eris was more apt in strategy and getting people to do what he wants.

Jax likes to fight and while not too impulsive since his teen years, he tends to be always looking for a fight.

If anyone was going to get him a gift, he’d probably most appreciate armor/weapons. However, make it fancy because he likes to be well dressed and look the most wealthy compared to everyone else.

Jax is the brute warrior of the Vanserras with very little ability to do anything court-related.

Normally, he has quite the cold heart and Eris has struggled to have any sort of relationship with him.

Of course, Eris actually was jealous when Jax was born, as he got more attention than Eris during those times, and Eris wasn’t completely mature enough to realize that the fact he kept seeming to reject Jax, hurt the poor boy more.

So, Eris has the worst relationship with Jax of all and Jax is too standoffish and holds grudges so long that they just can’t find any sort of relationship with each other.

But Eris does keep in mind his brother’s preferences though because he eventually realized his mistake when the now dead, third-eldest Vanserra, Fynn came along.

Now, before we go on about Fynn and perhaps how he died while chasing Lucien to the Spring Court… Jax does know that Eris tries. He does, but he’s salty. That’s all. Salty motherfucker who’s virtually emotionless, but probably the least traumatized of all the brothers.

He was one of the 2 brothers to help Eris chase Feyre into the Winter Court.

Nothing much changes for him when Eris finally becomes High Lord. It’s just a change of seasons for him.

Now, Fynn was kinder than any of the previously born brothers. Beron resented him for it and often punished the boy when he was found being kind to a servant.

So Fynn hardened and by the time he was an adult, he was rageful and absolutely miserable to be around. Such a short fuse and a big boom to go along with it.

Fynn constantly was angry. At Beron, at Eris- not too much at Jax because they mostly ignored each other. Fynn was jealous of Eris.

Eris never did manage to apologize for the whippings that Beron forced him to give Fynn before the brother died.

But in all honesty, Fynn had been broken beyond repair. His kindness cost him and he was angry and rageful all the time. At everyone.

Some say it was a good thing that he died when he did.

The boy was smarter than Jax, but Beron still prized Eris for his manipulation tactics, so of course, Fynn was salty about that as well.

Eris and him often fought, but it was always Eris who cut it short and dismissed his brother. Yet another reason Fynn was so rageful.

He was ignored. A third born meant nothing to everyone. Eris was the prized first born Vanserra. Jax was close enough that they didn’t care. But Fynn meant nothing to them. And worst yet, he was weaker than most of his brothers and had less control over fire than any of them.

In the Spring Court incident, he was one of the two brothers besides Calix (6th born) to die. The third brother chasing Lucien under Beron’s order was Kuhn (5th born). Killed by Tamlin- his rage was at last quelled.

The next brother is Hue, 4th born in the Vanserra line.

By the time that Hue had been born, Eris had managed to get his head out of his ass and swore to protect his youngest brother, helping his mother to raise them in secret and helped his brother deal with Beron’s beatings.

Hue was as kind as Fynn, and he was intelligent as well. He was fascinated by everything. However, Beron called him his “failure.” The boy acted more like a scholar than anyone else in the Forest House.

At one point, Beron ordered Eris to take the boy during some constructive early teen years to a cabin and raise him. Eris had mastered seeming as cruel and manipulative as his father by this point. Eris kept his rage down and followed orders.

Eris fostered his brother’s scholarly heart, but trained him well to never show that weakness to his father. Hue was a more lanky brother, and while training was enjoyable, he preferred reading in his rooms.

But in any battle (which he has been in many, as he was the other brother helping to chase Feyre with Eris), he is very fast. The quickest reflexes.

He’s one of the more emotional brothers, but hides it well.

He enjoys the finer aspects of magic. The beautiful parts– not burning someone’s face off, but using it to make a piece of artwork.

Hue is fascinated by shiny little trinkets that he can collect and either hide or put on his bookshelves to decorate them. His bookshelves are a mess.

But he also enjoys art. Drawing, painting and other various options are some of his favorite pastimes as he tries to capture the beauty of a very simple scene in a canvas.

So, if you were getting him a gift, the best option is a bunch of little trinkets, a lifetime supply of books (which is exactly what Helion does as he gains Hue’s trust. He gives him little trinkets maybe with a little bit of magic from his libraries and then gives Hue free access to said libraries whenever he wishes for it) and maybe some art supplies, but Hue doesn’t need much. He just needs a canvas, pencil and then some paints to be happy.

When Eris becomes High Lord– Hue is very happy when he allows him to explore any and all interests he has. And Eris is very proud of him 🥹🥹🥹

The next Vanserra, the 5th born, is Kuhn. Kuhn is similar to Jax in ways, as they both have quite broad shoulders and enjoy training. Eris is more lanky than Kuhn, but no matter for either of them. Kuhn gives better hugs that way.

Now, seeing as Hue was such a “success” when being raised by Eris, as soon as Kuhn was able to be fed solid food, he was whisked away to the cabin.

Eris promised his mother to care for his brother. Kuhn grew up very similar to Hue– free from Beron’s wrath, but trained to avoid it, and not get either of them in trouble when they return to the Forest House years later. Beron was pleased with how Kuhn acted so warrior on the outside and actually rewarded Eris for his efforts.

Kuhn is like a mix of Jax and Hue at the same time. He enjoys training and is quite apt in his bow skills, but at the same time, he’s also fascinated by particular things– namely animals and the stars.

So… when Helion is giving out gifts, he gives Kuhn a little trinket that shows the view of the stars in the Night Court from the top of some mountains and makes sure to get an invitation for them both to the next Starfall in Velaris. (Kuhn was very happy)

Kuhn enjoys helping Eris with his hounds when he can, learning at least their names and offering advice when Eris off handedly mentions some issue, or that some hound got injured

When Eris is High Lord, Kuhn and Hue are some of the most useful when dealing with the lords and other annoying things.

Calix is the 6th born Vanserra, and according to canon, the last of Beron’s sons. One of the perished ones.

Beron did the same as he did with Kuhn and Hue– have Eris raise him. Calix didn’t seem scholarly at all though and was quite the violent child. But he was better than Fynn, and that was for sure. But they were similar, but Calix lacked the “loss of kindness” that Fynn had.

Calix was inherently violent, often killing frogs and other creatures just for fun and then throwing their bodies around for fun.

Eris did his best to “train” Calix, but the boy was unbothered and ignored him.

So, when it came time to go back to the Forest House, Calix was punished harshly, and with him, Eris. Calix didn’t understand, however, that it had been his fault that Eris was so cold toward him afterward.

Calix looks like almost an exact copy of Eris, so Beron had been hopeful, but quickly found that Eris was much more well trained and so Calix was resented, but not nearly as much as some of the other brothers.

Calix is the other brother that is killed by Tamlin. Beron basically taken the two sons most desperate to please him to chase Lucien to the Spring Court. Calix had been quite desperate, and Fynn, and Kuhn had simply been ordered to go along, as Beron considered him one of the more pleasing sons. Eris, since he refused to go along despite being ordered, was punished severely.

So, Calix and Fynn died, and Kuhn returned with gouges from huge claws in his back.

Hue was banned from helping either of the injured brothers and was barely even allowed to grieve his other two. (Hue had cared for them despite them mostly hating him for being more well-liked by their father)

Now, naturally, Lucien is the last brother we talk about. He was born before the Spring Court incident, and Beron was practically raging at the fact that Eris had failed at raising Calix as he did with Kuhn.

However, Eris managed to convince Beron to give him a chance with Lucien and his mother didn’t even wean Lucien off her milk, she just sent Eris to get him in a panic.

Eris found out why the panic soon after when Lucien was laughing with joy in a cradle in the cabin. The boy was glowing.

So yes, in my mind, Eris did know that Lucien was not Beron’s son, but treated him all the same.

Before Lucien could remember anything though, Eris found a spell to lock that Day Court magic inside the toddler before he burnt down the house with all the heat pouring off of him. After all, Day Court and Autumn Court abilities were similar in that way– heat. And Eris didn’t have a damn clue how to train Lucien to control his Day Court powers, so he locked them away and managed the fire instead.

Lucien was different from any other brother Eris had managed to raise. He was smart, could fight very well, but he was… different. Emotional and very quickly bonded with anything. Animals, most notably. When one of Eris’s hounds accidentally bit the boy in play, Lucien had acted so rejected.

Eris tried his best, and it paid off… mostly. They were ordered to return early from the canon and Lucien wasn’t vicious enough yet and Beron punished them both, finding the smallest excuse to do it to Eris.

Lucien resented Eris after that, and Eris never did try to mend that relationship, nor did he find the time when Lucien fell in love with a lesser fae female. However, he refused to hunt Lucien after he ran for the Spring Court. In the few minutes he had before Beron came after him, he made sure his littlest brother would be cared for and sent a letter to Tamlin.

Also, as an added note as to why Lucien believes Eris is so cruel: he thinks Eris was the one to report Jesminda to Beron- purely to make gain off of it (acceptance from Beron being the goal)

I’m not going to go too much farther into Lucien, as we know a lot about canon past that point and there are other times to talk about all my HCs for Lucien. This is about Eris and his brothers.

Now, if you notice, I’ve done all the Vanserras except the first born. Eris. Poor, tortured Eris.

In my mind, Eris is one of the most traumatized Vanserras, with Hue, Calix and Fynn coming close in second. He was the first to learn of Beron’s cruelty, the first to face it, and the one to face it the longest.

He messed up a lot too. Beron wanted cruel, wicked and manipulative. Eris was none of those things as a child. He was curious, loved cuddling with his momma and loved playing with the hunting hounds people brought around. He loved riding horses-

Basically, Eris wasn’t that way. But he quickly learned to be. Permanently changed by Fynn to be exactly who his father wanted because he was desperate to avoid the whip and the fire and the pain. However, he still managed to keep the pieces of his fractured heart, even if they were slipping between his fingers.

That is probably the only reason he was able to raise his brothers the way he did. Hue and Kuhn care for him deeply in that way, and he is the same way. But they never show it. However, the little fist bumps or secretive gifts were enough for Hue and Kuhn to know that Eris still cared even when he was forced to whip them by Beron’s command.

Oh yes… Eris wasn’t just the abused. He was also the abuser. Even if he didn’t want to be. But he always managed to show enough pleasure in the act to placate his father, because sometimes it was a good feeling. He felt in control, despite not being in control in the slightest.

But without Beron’s command, he always felt guilty for it and knew that in some way, his brothers did hold something against him for it. I mean, honestly, who wouldn’t though? Eris truly seemed like he enjoyed it. And he never came to check up on them afterwards. (He sometimes wanted to, but refused to risk his father’s rage again)

His brothers (especially Lucien because Beron knew he was different than the other pale red heads that were his sons and was punished more, and much more by Eris himself) think him cruel. Even if they saw a softer side when they grew up, he was still vicious with training. Sometimes heartless. And he can't help this because of how he grew up. He's sort of like Fynn in those ways.

Eris isn't completely kind though. Some (like his mother) like to paint him as damaged, but even while he is damaged, he is still not absent of cruelty. After all, Beron drilled it into him. The pleasure in whipping was surely evidence of such.

But he does truly hate Beron. He knows his father is a cruel male- crueler than he. Willing to kill lovers of his own sons and lords whenever. He hates Beron- for everything. For what he did to Eris, for what he did to the Autumn Court, for what he did to his mother, and what he did to his brothers. There are of course, many more reasons, but those are the main ones.

Even after becoming High Lord, he didn’t show much more emotion or care, but he did allow his brothers more freedom and they lived with less fear. It would take a millennia to repair the damage done to them all though.

So, to say the least, the Vanserra family is fucked up and there isn’t much repairs in sight. Even when Helion tries to get closer to them, it's hard. They are traumatized asf and often, lonely because lonely=safe in their mind because there is nobody to report them to their father.

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

Btw, feel free to ask more questions about the headcanons <3

TAGLIST HERE! - see post for specifics <3

Tagged in all ACOTAR Stories: @bunnymallowo, @officiallyunofficialperson, @margssstuff, @rebloggiest-reblogger, @inpraizeof, @graciereads, @eos-princess, @bubybubsters

(please let me know if you'd rather not be tagged in Eris Week or would like to!!)

#erisweek2023 #eris vanserra #eris acotar #vanserra brothers #lucien vanserrra #lucien #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #high lord eris #pro eris vanserra #headcanons #mywriting

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echekate · 4 months

Text

Zombie apocalypse AU pt. 2

some more hc's just because I can't get my mind off it

or is it more of a drabble?..

gn!reader x Hobie Brown

tw: amputation of a limb, a mention of suic!de at the end, suggestive stuff, but mostly fluff (don't ask me, that's how zombie apocalypses work)

As the winter passes Hobie finds himself feeling quite comfortable in his new place. Wether it's the Town that has more decent ways of existance than the one he previously lived in or certain someone who keeps his want to fuck off at bay, he starts thinking less about leaving and more about pros and cons of staying, and... Well, you.

The commune that everyone basically calls the Town is quite different from the one he used to be in before the big shit TM happened. The biggest difference is probably the place having not one allmighty leader but many of them, a dozen or so people trying to keep the place, this isle of civilization, from falling apart. The second difference - no big rules. The only ones are make yourself useful and don't stir up trouble. Considering that the place doesn't have too many people, those are enough to keep the place organised and safe. Any problems that come up always get solved by "the big bosses" who look after the Town.

And the more Hobie thinks of it, lives in it, the more content he gets with how things work. After all, he's got no problem with occupying himself or being useful. And he's not the one to start trouble if he's fine with how things are going.

And then there's you.

You who was helping him during his recovery. You who welcomed him so warmly at your place, and introduced to your parents if you still got them. You who let him use your bed until his leg was fine and he could move to the couch. You who told the big bosses you'll take care of him and he won't be any trouble and a waste of resources. You who helped him when he needed to get out and shared your warmth with him during those cold nights of hunting outside

Shit, since when did he start thinking so much about your warmth?

One thing after another, everything leads to Hobie starting to hesitate. And then one thing happens that pretty much seals his fate.

Could there be a more perfect moment? You and him are at the infirmary after coming back from another sortie. His cheek rests calmly in your palm as your other hand moves over his face, cleaning small bruises left after your little adventure. Bleak sunshine of the spring sun filters through the blinds on the windows, gently touching your skin. It's quiet, peaceful, you've gotten used to sharing both talks and comfortable silence with him.

Your head's been full of thoughts of Hobie's inevitable departure ever since the winter days had ended. You feel like any time now he can just seep through your fingers and disappear. And what's so bad about it, right? He's just a boy who was there to reach a helping hand when you were in need of one. But here's the thing: you and Hobie just... Click.

There's not too many people of your age among survivors to be picky about your friends. But ever since you've met Hobie you had this feeling that if you met him before the apocalypse, you'd be best friends for sure. He makes you feel less lonely, more cheerful, more seen. You can discuss anything without judging each other. And now you have to wrap your head around the fact that he'll leave soon? You want to respect his freedom, you really do, but... Yeah, no fucking way you can just let him go.

You barely notice the way your hands slowly come to a stop as the thoughts fill your head. And just when Hobie raises his eyes at you to ask why the hell did you stop caressing his face with your lovely hands your work, you find enough courage to meet his gaze and whisper a soft "Hobie, you should stay."

Your lips are so close and wouldn't it be just a perfect moment to kiss them? Because - hell, he wants that. But despite you being just a few inches away looking at him with such tenderness, you seem like you're not going to move any closer. So the best thing that comes to Hobie's mind is to smirk and say, "Sure thing, dove. Anythin' if I get a kiss fo' tha'."

And just like that it suddenly gets to you that all those nights cuddling in the woods you probably weren't the only one to get a little too comfortable. Because now behind that cocky expression on Hobie's face you see that he means it - you give him one kiss and he'll follow you to the Hell itself. But you turn into such a mess of joy and embarrasment that you're sure you'll fuck it up. So you ask him to wait till evening. To join him on his night watch. "Promise you won't leave 'till you get it." And he gives you a promise.

And when you join him on the town's wall at night, take his hand to let him know you're here, that's when you finally give it to him. Yes, you give it, because he lets you be the one to decide if you truly want it this time and doesn't try to take it himself. After all, it's in your best interest to convince him to stay, and a kiss is the price you must pay. But as soon as you do, your deal is sealed, and that's when Hobie shows you just how much he has to give back. He spins you two around to press your back into the wall and kisses you again and again till the pile of melting snow falls from a canopy above your heads making some noise and startling you.

You stay for a few more minutes to laugh and talk quietly and soon leave to get some rest. But you go home filled with joy because you know you both felt it that moment - none of you can leave the other now without leaving your heart with them.

At some point Hobie realises he has used your hospitality for long enough and after exploring less inhabitated parts of the Town for some time he finds himself a perfect spot. The house clearly has been rummaged through and looted more than once, but it isn't the thing that takes his attention. An impressively built tree house in the backyard though... Now that's more like it. Oh and a garage attached to the house? Maybe he can even go back to crafting stuff like he used to do before the world collapsed.

Hobie doesn't wait long before moving there and finally leaving your place. And though you miss him living close to you, now Hobie has a place of his own that suits him best. A place he can and will decorate to his liking. And a place where you finally can be truly alone with him. Perfect for nice and long makeout sessions with some music playing from your old headphones you share that certainly will turn into something more with time, like pawing at the skin under each other's clothes as you grind against each other and pant into other's mouth. Yes, a perfect spot that he doesn't mind sharing with you.

And hey, he still visits you, too.

What you've got between you two you're not in a rush to name. It's just kinda there, it has been since the moment you've brought Hobie to the Town. Though if before that kiss you could pass as a couple of really good friends that just seem to get along very well, after it happens your connection becomes painfully obvious to anyone in the Town. I mean, it's hard to misunderstand. You've been close before, but now you become nearly inseparable. Some people even start wondering if it's even possible to meet Hobie without you being nearby and the other way around. You sit there with him when he tries to build stuff in his garage. He helps you with whatever you do.

It is love, that much you know for sure, but whenever you try to explain it, you fail. Because labels and names don't really matter when the world slowly falls apart, and you feel too much anyway to try to define it with few words. Hobie, i believe, barely even tries. He just feels and enjoys it.

As for 'keeping himself useful'... Let's be honest, no one has ever expected Hobie to just settle and become a proper townie. And remember? He goes wherever you go, and you go scout sometimes, so of course he keeps you company. And it's hard to express just how much easier it becomes with him around. It's a former loner we're talking about here, he knows the best spots to hide, the best ways to avoid hungry undeads. Despite the outside still being dangerous and horrifying, with Hobie by your side your chances of survival really skyrocket.

And I imagine that you meet the rest of the spidergang that way. They're lost and scared and gods know how they've managed to survive this long, but one way or another you find them during your expeditions and bring them back with you. Just for them to see just how cool you and Hobie are and want to become a part of your scouting team, too. And hell does it feel like getting children with him...

And to the darker part that i've mentioned in the end of the pt 1

Of course with a job as dangerous as yours it's only a matter of time when some really bad stuff happens. Bad as in your hand getting bitten when you already think you've managed to escape that groaning mob of shamblers. As in Hobie immediately grabbing you and putting a tourniquet on your arm to stop this shit from spreading any further, quiet despair in his eyes because he knows exactly what must be done. Bad as in him taking a deep breath and sinking a big blade of his hunting knife into your flesh, aiming to separate the joint while other arachnokids try their best to keep you in place while he cuts off your forearm, only leaving behind a piece of skin to put it over the wound and sewing it up with a few sloppy stitches. It's imperfect, but hey, he did his best, and at least now he can bring the rest of you back to the Town, alive.

Hobie's fine if you're mad at him, he takes it like a champ, all of your "I'd rather if you just shot me" and "Great, you've made me fucking useless and made me live with it" things. He knows you'll thank him later, when it gets to you he has saved your life once again. He doesn't try to change your mind or make you less angry, he just waits and nods and helps you without a word whenever you encounter a task that used to be so easy when you had both your arms but that can be so troubling now. And he's really delicate about it, only helping when you almost get too upset you can't do it on your own. He lets you let your steam off on him, but he'll immediately offer you his vocal support and anything you need as soon as you let him know you need it or need him.

And yes, as soon as you get back he starts working on making you a new forearm. First it's just some quick and simple stuff, but hey, the boy's a genius, he'll manage to make you something really good. He'll be looking for better and better materials on your expeditions and experiment with them and i'm pretty sure he can come up with some really cool robotic stuff in the end.

And when your pain and shock and anger wears off and you realise just how much strength it took him to do the thing he did and then endure your behaviour, you apologise immediately. And just as quickly he forgives you. Because hey, when the world is at the brink of death, you can't let things like that just ruin a connection like the one you two have.

You just have to understand that if one day you turn and Hobie has to shoot you, the next thing he's shooting is probably himself.

________________________________________________________

(english is not my first language i'm struggling lmao so sorry if there's mistakes)

pt. 1 | pt. 2

#across the spiderverse #atsv #atsv hobie #hobie brown headcanons #hobie x reader #hobie brown x gn!reader #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x you #hobie x you #spider punk x you

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tired-biscuit · 2 years

Text

Bite

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: Kiba/fem!reader

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: 18+ mdni,��modern AU // werewolf!kiba, monsterfucking, size kink, biting kink, breeding, unprotected sex, slight a/b/o themes [mf has a knot], pregnancy talk, mentions of blood. established relationship, they are very cute.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 10.5k

𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁

𝗵𝗮𝗽𝗽𝘆 𝗵𝗮𝗹𝗹𝗼𝘄𝗲𝗲𝗻, 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗲𝘀. 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲'𝘀 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗺𝗼𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗳𝘂𝗰𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴!!

𝗞𝗜𝗕𝗔 decides to share his secret with you on Halloween.

He doesn’t know why he wants to tell you on October 31st, exactly. Perhaps it is that the matter at hand is rather fitting for the spooky season, or maybe because the last two functioning brain cells inside his head are telling him that you’ll be able to cope with it better this way – his peculiar way of thinking is something that nobody but him seems to make sense of.

So, it takes Kiba four years and three months to make the final decision. It may seem like a long time to some, but to him the years pass by swiftly. He spends them all by learning about how your mind functions and by gathering his wits. By hiding every full moon and ghosting you completely with zero explanation. By persuading himself that that same mind he is so very fond of picking apart and piecing back together, will be the one that will accept him for who – what – he is.

And as spring turns to summer and autumn falls victim to the icy clutches of winter, Kiba stalls. Year after year, your relationship grows like a sturdy vine taking over the walls of an abandoned building with the change of the seasons. The cycle repeats itself for the second, third, fourth time around, and Kiba still keeps changing his mind.

He almost tells you sooner than planned, but then he worries. Grows agitated because of said worrying. Stalls even more. Almost gives up, and thus nearly abandons you as a result at some point as well.

You don’t know anything about that, of course.

But no matter what he picks and chooses, something makes him stay put. Kiba can’t quite explain the reasoning as to why. It might be that he’s immensely loyal. Or the fact that he’s in love. Maybe you’re his person. Perhaps it’s in his blood. He doesn’t know what it is, but he lingers because of it. Wraps his arms around you and falls even deeper. So deep, in fact, that he can’t possibly find his way back to the surface and moral reasoning anymore.

And because of it, he feels scared when the day he has to tell you his secret finally comes. Absolutely petrified. But he trusts you now, he’s positive about that. Nearly half a decade of being so close has done its job.

And he hopes, nearly prays to a god he’s long since lost belief in, that after all of this is over, you’ll still trust him, too.

—

Much to Kiba’s misfortune, that doesn’t happen.

You don’t trust him anymore.

“Oh, my… You we-were actually being serious for once, huh?” The words are spoken barely above a whisper by someone who you think is you, despite that you swear you’re on the brink of screaming your lungs out.

Everything is quiet chaos. Standing in the middle of your bedroom, it’s a struggle to breathe properly; you can’t even get an exhale out, much less a shout. The moment your boyfriend’s supposed prank turns out to be a truth so gruesome that it makes your jaw drop, you’re feeling like your legs are giving in. To say you were on the verge of fainting would be an understatement.

You feel like you’re going to die.

It all happens exactly how he’s told you it would, but that doesn’t help. Staring at the thing that used to be your boyfriend just mere moments before the pale moonlight had seeped past the curtains, you still find yourself frozen into place from the shock and terror that begin to course your veins in fast, pulsating waves.

The movie you were watching together on your laptop is still playing. Background music and dialogue fills the tense air between you and is the only sound present besides his deep breathing and the ferocious pounding of your heart; which you swear you can feel climbing up your throat now.

The movie is playing – time certainly hasn’t stopped. But you wish it did.

He’s just so big, after all. Huge in every aspect, he’s nothing like himself and you’re barely keeping pieces of your sanity sticking together because of the intimidating stature he possesses now. He’s broad, the slopes of his shoulders are potent and the curve of his biceps is so defined that you’d have trouble wrapping both hands around just one. There’s no way your fingers would touch whilst hugging it – you’re positive.

And goodness, he is heavy. So fucking heavy, in fact, that the mattress sinks below him, and the wooden framing of the bed gives a prolonged creak of protest because of the triggering weight when he picks himself up.

Watching them stretch and relax repeatedly, you suppose you’re used to seeing the strong limbs and the rippling muscle, even if it currently hides underneath thick, coarse fur. And it may be just a hint of familiarity soothing you now, but panic still flashes through your very soul when he stumbles on his hind legs as soon as his feet land on your carpeted flooring.

Standing at his full height, your boyfriend – or rather the thing that used to be your boyfriend – appears even taller now. Its enormous stature makes dread trickle down the back of your sweaty neck, because god-fucking-damn it; the top of its head is nearly touching the fucking ceiling.

But it's still Kiba, or that’s at least what you keep telling yourself. This creature is still your lover, even if his clothes are torn and his entire body is sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the furniture of your bedroom that just appears toyish when compared to him.

And now, his arms flail around in the same manner his tail does. Wagging from side to side, it’s a brief moment of alarm as he attempts to catch his balance like a toddler learning to walk for the first time. But he’s not a child; he isn’t even human. Every clumsy footstep he takes on the carpet is like a dull thud of thunder because of how hefty he is. It seems that even he, himself, isn't quite used to his new body just yet. And it’s almost cute in a way.

Almost.

Still, cute or not, the entire situation makes your breath hitch and forces you to take a cautious step back when he turns towards you at long last and just looks at you.

Staring right back at him, you’re not sure if you like having his attention on you all of a sudden. So you stand more firmly, lift your hands into a shield of sorts – as if that could fucking stop this monster of a wolfman if he ever did make the decision to tear you to shreds and swallow you whole – and just breathe.

You just can’t help it. Stepping back and causing more distance feels like a survival instinct, because he is just that – a monster. You don’t do it on purpose, it seems, but the reason for it is because of the more uncanny features he possesses. And those features frighten you right to the bone, whether you want them to or not.

The tail is on top of that list of reasons, of course. But it’s also the eerie height. How he stands and walks like a human, but isn’t one. The triangle-shaped ears atop his head and the set of honed claws on each broad, paw-like hand. The chestnut fur. How his eyes are now yellow instead of a golden brown.

Speaking of his eyes: they glow in the silvery moonlight. The pupils inside dilate sideways whenever a shadow crosses them, and both are so sharp that they’d do a better job at piercing through you than the point of the sharpest blade ever could.

The thought makes your skin pull taut and your heartbeat thump inside your mouth this time around. You can feel it rattling behind your teeth, which you’re clenching so hard that your entire jaw is beginning to hurt. Even the saliva that has gathered on top of your tongue is hard to swallow from how thick it’s become laced with fear now.

Your entire body is shouting at you to run away.

But you can’t run. You’ve sprouted roots into the ground by giving him the promise of staying no matter what happens, and you simply can’t break it; can’t run. You’re here to stay, because perhaps you’re even more loyal than he is.

So it’s just you.

And the werewolf.

The big bad werewolf.

“H-Hey,” you croak out feebly after what seems like ages, upper lip trembling in pure fear. He’s still staring at you; unmoving. Just breathing in and out, in and out, in and out. Other than the rise and fall of his shoulders, he’s so still that it’s making you feel on edge. “You–...” Your brow furrows as you try again, “You in there, Kiba?”

The sound of his name being spoken into the air makes him perk up. And it’s feeble relief that washes over you now as you finally release a shuddering breath. Like a sign that your boyfriend remembers at least some part of his human psyche, you watch as one of his ears twitches before he tilts his head to the side like your neighbour’s German Shepherd tends to do whenever it snows outside for the first time.

It’s curiosity in its finest form, but despite him recognizing his name, you’re still worried. Especially because that curiosity makes him come closer. Makes his attention shift solely onto you ever so slowly; the only living, breathing thing left inside this house besides him.

You certainly hope it’ll stay that way by the end of the night. With both of you still breathing.

Because footstep after footstep, Kiba’s balance goes from inept to completely fine by the time he backs you up against the wall and just keeps staring at you.

The yellow in his irises makes his eyes sublime. Shadows dance inside them as he approaches, turning them dark then light again. The size difference between you is so profound that he has to stoop down just to reach eye level with you. Practically looming over you, you feel like you’re about to start crying any second.

His pupils dilate immediately after eye contact is established and your own turn foggy from the tears that are beginning to gather at your waterline, threatening to spill. Black consumes the yellow; swallows it whole. Until you can nearly see yourself in the reflection of the void.

And even if he’s told you what to expect when he’s like this, even if you’ve nodded and laughed at the warnings he’s tried to get across because you couldn’t have possibly taken them seriously: as soon as you come face to face with this supernatural being, you’re simply terror-struck.

And you don’t trust this being. Don’t trust it at all.

But every moment is used for his benefit. He’s starting to learn about your mannerisms. You’re standing still as a statue, fear lacing your scent so profoundly that he feels the need to dip in and hide his face into the crook of your neck just so he can smell it better.

So seconds pass: one, two, three. He breathes in your scent so that he can memorize it. Rests a paw on the curve of your hip as gently as he’s able, even though you can still feel its immense weight and the way the claws dig into your skin right through your t-shirt despite the mellow effort. He can’t retract them, but they’re still so sharp that you have no doubt he could tear right through the thin cotton in mere seconds if he wanted to, along with everything else underneath.

Your stomach twists because of it. If he scratches or cuts you by accident and smells your blood as a result, you have no clue what’ll happen. He’s never told you about that possibility.

And perhaps it’s just a gut feeling, but something tells you he had good reason for it.

Eyes blown wide, shoulders shaking with the fast-paced, never-ending series of inhales and exhales that you can’t seem to slow down for the life of you, you’re letting out a quivering whimper that makes your entire face twist in reluctant disturbance. He’s just too close, too unnatural. Too demanding to know you better, and thus too pushy.

So you try to push him away to cause more distance between your bodies because you can’t focus, can’t breathe. But holy fuck, every hair on your body prickles and stands up to attention when instead of having him take a step back, you just hear him growl in response.

He doesn’t like that; the snarl and the flash of big, sharp teeth tells you all you need to know as his upper lip curls and reveals the gleaming white underneath. Doesn’t appreciate you shoving him away like he’s unwanted and scary, when all he wants to do is to be close to you and just breathe you in. Just that, he isn’t even thinking about hurting you.

But you don’t know that. Can’t understand him either.

Listening to the growl as it slowly dies down, it’s a quiet sort of sound that comes from the depths of his chest and rumbles in the back of his throat. Like the noise a dog makes before it’s about to go absolutely nuts at any given second, except that it’s deeper, more threatening; a warning to come from a provoked beast much larger than your poor self. The series of vibrations it sends through you makes your teeth rattle inside your skull and your skin pull even tighter over your bones from how deeply it fazes you.

And when you whimper out of fear again, the tears spilling over your hot cheeks, it makes him freeze. You’re scared – scared of him – so he pulls back, looks at your sweat-riddled face, as well as the fright it exhibits, and looses a freaking sigh now. As if he’s upset by your reaction, perhaps even disappointed, the low grumble to follow right afterwards only adds to the discontent he feels for you.

And you; you’re staring up at him, sniffling and trying to blink away the blur in your eyes now whilst your entire body is literally shaking.

He’s the one that’s displeased? After scaring the literal shit out of you and making you cry, he is the one that gets to grumble about it like some senile, old grandpa whenever his grandkids get caught doing something naughty? You can’t believe the nerve of this man. Wolf. Wolfman? Werewolf.

It seems that Kiba remains a crabby douche no matter what form he’s in. And it is him; your grouchy boyfriend is actually still somewhere in there – looking at you worryingly through pupils that remind you of a cat’s, and owning a body so powerful that it could turn your entire house to rubble if it went on a rampage.

“I-I’m sorry,” you choke out at the thought, carefully reaching out to place your hand on his chest again, but this time to appease him instead of shoving him away and provoking him again. “I just–... I wasn’t expecting this, ‘kay? Try and understand how I feel about this.”

Just breathe. Breathe, breathe, breathe – in and out. He’s less scary already.

He perks up at your words again, his paw covering your hand entirely when he presses it more closely to his heart so that you can feel the rhythm of his pulse better. The knuckles are nearly human, as well as the digits that bend and curl over your own now; just covered in fur and equipped with those menacing claws you’re still continuously flicking a wary eye towards every few seconds.

Fingers tangling into rough chestnut fur, his heartbeat is so strong and other-wordly that it makes you sick in a way. It beats faster than any human heart – rhythm quick and potent enough that it kisses the pads of your fingers every time it hits.

It’s like the damn muscle is jumping and bouncing off the sides of his ribcage as he grumbles once more in answer, this time more in agitation than anything else. He can’t even speak proper English with you, or any other human language whatsoever, and yet you’re starting to understand him perfectly just from the faces he’s making and the noises of irritation coming from the back of his throat every once in a while.

“What,” you whisper, feeling dizzy from the heat his body gives off, “what is it?” It’s as if his very blood has come to a boil, is starting to sizzle like oil on a frying pan underneath all of that muscle and skin. He’s practically burning up, warming your entire bedroom by merely existing. It’s making your vision spin before your very eyes.

So he clutches your hand harder when you look like you’re about to faint; pushes it even closer to his heart. And when you look more stable, like the touch grounds you in a way, he circles his free paw around his face – that uncanny, strange face – and presses it to your own chest. To your own heart.

“What?” His hand, if you could call it that, is so big that it covers the entirety of your ribcage. Thumb to pinky; he’s touching you from one end to the other. You have trouble breathing at the realization of his immense size. “Is there so-something wrong with my heart?”

He shakes his head in answer. Repeats the action of circling his face, but then he stops and pauses for a moment. Contemplates. Pointing to his twitching ear this time around, he does it a few times before pressing the paw to your heart again.

Puzzled, you blink at him, attempting to understand what he’s miming to you as he starts pointing to his ear again. “Are you… Are you saying that you can hear my heart?”

He nods feverishly now, tapping his digits against the middle of your chest a couple of times in the exact same rhythm your heart beats inside your ears, paying heed that he doesn’t strike you with his claws by accident.

“It’s fast, yeah,” you mumble hesitantly. “Nothing like yours, though.”

And now, much to your surprise, he whines in reply; sounding like a little puppy when it yawns with that squeal-ish sort of sound. As if he’s not happy at all with your statement.

Your brow quirks because of it. “You don’t like that it’s fast?”

Kiba shakes his head again.

“Why?”

You frown when he just points to his face again and drops his eyes to the floor. He taps you over your heart only once this time; gently. Like he’s afraid he might break you in two if he uses any more force, the click of his claws only gives you more proof that he could.

And it’s sort of soothing – him caring enough to be this cautious. It calms you, coaxing you to warily place your hand upon his own and say, “I’m not scared of you anymore, Kiba.”

You mean it. Even if your body is still stiff as a board; you mean it.

But all he does is grumble again. Incoherent, rumbling sounds that make you chuckle almost as his tail drops limp between his legs. Your lips are twitching as you speak again, “I’m serious, my heart is beating so fast only ‘cause I love you so much, and ‘cause I’m worried about you. I mean, baby, you have a tail, for Christ’s sake. Come to think of it… Does it hurt when it grows out?”

What a lucky girl you are, your statement makes him growl for a third time as his paw drops from your chest and rests on the curve of your hip instead. If he weren’t so big and unpredictable, you’d bash his head in for being so fussy. “Stop making that noise, y-you’ve gotta cut me some slack! At least I didn’t run away and called the cops! Or, ya know… Animal control, since you’re… Well… Yeah.”

The look he gives you now just spells that sarcastic ‘Funny.’ even though he really is more animal than human. He’s nearly slouching, curving his broad back just to remain face to face with you, and when you’re about to open your mouth to retaliate, because being witty is just how you’ve decided to cope and be comfortable around him, nothing but a squeak pushes past your lips instead.

Because now, Kiba lifts you up – so swiftly and effortlessly that you’re amazed in a way, even if it’s nothing surprising if you take his sheer size into consideration. Paws wrapping around your hips, you can feel his claws dig into the plush fabric of your pyjama shorts, but never tearing, as he tosses you over his shoulder and just keeps you there.

Like you’re some damsel in distress, hell like he’s Bowser and you’re Princess Peach; he carries you across the room as if you’re light as a feather.

You squeak out this high-pitched sort of noise when he throws you onto the bed. Squirming around, you try to back up against the headboard, but he grabs you by the ankle and just pulls you closer as he falls onto the mattress himself.

Nearly cringing at the second creek of protest the wooden framing gives to his weight, your own objections are stifled as his arms wrap around you like armor and he attempts to make himself seem smaller – badly. One paw-like hand rests on your middle now, giving you a single push until you’re firmly pressed against his chest. You can feel his heartbeat thumping right against your spine now. It nearly makes the discs rattle from how strong it is.

And even his tail is wrapping around your hip in almost a protective manner now; warming you up with the heat of his body and the thickness of his fur. You’re sweating after mere seconds, the coat of salt thickening the glaze that’s already there as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck and just starts breathing in your scent again.

It’s like he’s addicted to the way you smell. Even with the initial tension gone, every grunt that reverberates down your spine is still chill-inducing despite the heat.

Laying next to him in the dark, the rational part of your consciousness screams at you to run and never look back. How you should feel scared; caged in from the way he wraps himself around you and holds you in place. But you don’t. Goddammit, you just don’t. You’ve known him for too long, and he’s just too sweet, even if he looks equally as bitter.

However, when you attempt to turn around to look at him again, he just growls once more. The same as the first time, it’s a warning, but it doesn’t scare you like it did the first time.

Your voice is calm because of it now, “You don’t want me to see you anymore?”

Paw leaving your middle for the briefest moment, you exhale a sigh at how cool his lack of touch feels now as he points at the laptop that’s still laying open on your bed. His body temperature is so high that it makes you burn all over when he touches the sliver of bare skin on your belly.

You swallow the thick saliva that’s gathered inside your mouth again. “The movie, right… Watching movies until you change back, or I fall asleep. Just like you’ve said.”

Fuck, when he pats your stomach in approval and grunts, it just makes you sweat even more. You shouldn’t be thinking about this sort of thing, now should you? About how it’d feel if he were to stroke the naked skin, not just linger on it… If he were to lick it, too. His tongue is probably rougher than normal. It’d hurt, wouldn’t it? Or would it feel good? Oh, and how would it feel if he were to trace your skin with those claws just enough to make you antsy?

As the thoughts ensue, your toes are curling from embarrassment, expectation, arousal – you, yourself, don’t even know from what. This entire thing is so confusing. Are you seriously attracted to a fucking werewolf, or is the heat that’s pooling between your legs only there because this is something new and exciting, and it’s your boyfriend that’s the beast?

The curiosity of humans truly is a wonder. It’s like you truly want to fuck everything that comes your way.

But it seems that Kiba knows what you’re feeling even if you don’t, or perhaps he can smell the change of hormones that lace your blood now. Because as soon as your dainty fingers lightly begin to trace his own thicker ones, seemingly all coy and innocent, he starts to stroke your naked skin in return, too. Gentle swipes that nevertheless make your breath hitch in the back of your throat, he’s sighing at the way your thighs squeeze together in response to his touches.

You’re slowly becoming drenched; he can smell the dopamine on you. The amount is big enough to make his thoughts fuzzy and his dick hard. God, he wants to suck the hormones right out of you.

So he lets his fingers travel higher. Lifts the hem of the shirt you’re wearing with one sharp claw and reaches just the underside of your breast as he strokes even more tenderly. Same movements, different pace and intensity, because he needs to be careful if he wishes to keep you intact and whole.

Minutes pass. He’s stupid, so he’s somehow ended up with both of your tits in his hands; squeezing the fat and flicking the cute nubs ever so gently. Making you squirm. Listening to your quick, little breaths. You’re so needy that it’s amusing in a way.

However, he grunts the moment you roll your hips against his own. Your smell turns him insatiable – you just smell so fucking good, it’s not fair – so he bucks his hips forward and ruts into you once, twice, but then stops immediately when you mewl something delightfully submissive in response and arch your back to feel him even better over your flimsy shorts.

Shit. That sounded so good that it made his ears perk up.

But he’s so big when he’s like this and you’re so small. The ridge of his semi-hard cock that presses against your clothed cunt is already so massive that there is no way your tiny human body would be able to take him in – it is quite literally impossible, no matter how badly you want it to happen. Too enormous for your sweet little pussy, he’d ruin you completely with just one pump if he was to become completely turned on. And you don’t even have a clue about the knot.

Holy fuck, the knot – how could he forget. His heart is racing now at the thought of you taking it willingly, it’s insane how fast it is as he releases you and points towards the laptop again with somewhat shaky digits.

It’s better to stop early. He’s not sure how much sanity he has to spare, the fact that you’re accepting him for who he is; that you are getting fucking aroused by what he thought of as an ugly secret until now is making drool ooze down his sharp teeth. Is making him yearn to push your face into the pillow so that he can just take you doggy style, because it’s, well… Fitting.

He wants to do it painfully slow and rough. Like an animal, the instinct to breed you until you’re his little mate is so acute that it hurts him. Christ, you’ve mentioned wanting kids, now that you’re both in your mid-twenties. Have begun talking more and more about moving in together and starting a family.

And Kiba wants it, too, he truly does. He wants kids, marriage. The chance of coming back to a warm home every single day, and spending the rest of those days with you, now that you know what he is. He’s never been happier because of the fact that you still want him just as badly as he wants you, but how the fuck is he supposed to give you all of that and grant you all of your wishes when he’s a monster?

During the course of your relationship, he’d been nothing but excuses as a result, even if he didn’t want to be. Stalling whenever you had suggested sharing a household. Completely disappearing roughly once a month whenever there was a full moon, even though – much to his luck – you’ve never managed to make the connection. Telling you, ‘Yes, I want kids.’ even though he’d started pulling out the moment you had told him that you got off your birth control.

Seeing the disappointment cross your face each time was hard. He wants kids, fuck, he wants them so bad – it’s in his blood to give you as many as you’ll be willing to have with him, for fuck’s sake. But all of this is complicated. Him feeling scared to give you babies because they’d almost surely be different from the ones you gush over whenever your friends swing by is completely justified.

But now, after you’ve seen him for what he is and have clearly accepted him, just imagining you still wanting kids with him makes his fucking tail want to wag. The way you'd whine and then beg him to cum inside you as your tiny pussy sucks him in, in, in. How you'd spread your legs and let him grab you by the hips until they'd be littered with scratches. How you'd squeal when he'd bite you to keep you still for long enough to make you pregnant with his offspring.

There’d be more than one in this form; he’s sure of it. Sadly, he’s just too big to fit. Perhaps, if you’re willing, you could try when he’s back to normal again.

“But Kiba, I–” Your lips clamp shut the moment he points to the screen again, this time sternly, and exhales this deep, fed-up breath through his nose that tickles your neck and just makes you buzz all over.

He’s even drawn his hips away from you whilst thinking of slamming them in instead. No more rutting – you’re not fucking a monster no matter how bad his need is and how nicely you’ve accepted him. He wants you alive and whole, after all.

And that means: end of discussion.

—

Even in his werewolf form, your boyfriend is as stubborn as ever.

You finish the movie with a frown etched upon your lips that he promptly seems to ignore for your sake. As soon as the credits roll, he makes you watch another one.

Hours pass; fading away into the night, and you feel him growing lighter. Smaller. More human. Changing or not, Kiba still doesn’t allow you to look at him during it. He’s told you that the transformation can be a bit unpleasant to see when you’re not used to seeing it, so you can’t do anything else but comply with his wishes.

And just when you’re on the verge of sleep, consciousness nearly fluttering away into dreamland, do you at long last feel him move.

Thick fingers digging into your t-shirt, he presses himself against you after hours of nothing. “Babe?” He whispers right into your ear, nudging you with the tip of his nose, “You still awake, baby?”

He can speak again.

“Mhmm.” His body is still so warm that you can’t help but feel it lulling you to slumber. “I’m awake.” It’s a bother to stay that way, but you still force yourself to remain conscious by rubbing your cheek into the pillow tiredly. “Can I look at you now…? Please?”

A smile ghosts over Kiba’s lips at the plea you’ve surely been harboring for hours. He’s still not used to you knowing and liking this part of him. He doubts he’ll ever be. “I’m not fully back to normal just yet,” he says, and you can tell, because there’s still this coarse bite to his voice that makes him sound like his teeth are too big for his mouth. “But I think it’s safe enough to look… If you want.”

You don’t ask him if he’s absolutely sure, nor if he’s all right with it. Far too impatient to look at your boyfriend again, you’re swiftly flipping onto your other side to finally lay your eyes on him not even a second after the words of insecurity finish leaving his lips.

His appearance makes your heart start to pound all over again. Not out of fear, though. No, this time it’s thrill – the good kind.

He’s mid-stage, just like he’s said he’d be. Not human just yet, although not full-werewolf anymore either: he’s a being of something supernatural and in-between that you don’t know how to name for the life of you.

He’s still big – bigger than usual – though nearly not as before. The fur is gone, but his hair is still overwhelmingly thick; partially hiding the pointy ears that remain sitting and twitching ever so slightly atop his head. His facial features are back to normal, even if his eyes aren’t. Still yellow, they glow in the dark with those slits for pupils that dilate sideways whenever they make eye contact with you. You can feel the tail as it curls around your hip once more, and can see the fangs when he parts his rosy lips to release a shuddering, anxious breath.

He looks like a hybrid. That’s the word!

“How long?” It’s the first thing that comes out of your mouth as you reach up to touch him. He’s completely naked underneath the thin duvet, you can see the pile of torn up clothes on the floor. It’s a good thing he’s brought an overnight bag with him.

“Huh?” Goddammit, he’s so insecure that he flinches when your fingers make contact with his warm, golden skin.

Your gaze turns soft as you trace his cheekbone and utter, “How long have you been like this?”

“Uh,” he mumbles, brow furrowing despite that he tilts his head so that he can lean into your touch better, “ever since I can remember. I was born with the gene.”

“Just you?”

“It… It runs in the family.”

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip. Chewing on the tender flesh, your voice is hushed, “And why haven’t you told me?”

He hates admitting his vulnerability to anyone – even you – but he has to if he wants this relationship to work and for the bond to strengthen. So he sighs, voice equally as quiet as he says, “I was scared you’d be disappointed.”

He pauses for a bit now, letting the beat of silence pass. Avoiding eye contact whilst those peculiar yellow eyes flick across your entire room, he seems almost jittery in a way, despite that you’re the harmless human in this situation. God, he hates feeling insecure like this.

You can’t stay still, silent. It’s eating you alive, so you cut into the quiet, “What is it?”

“It’s…” Kiba inhales deeply, shaking his head with a groan that just provokes you further. You’re on the brink of jumping him and shaking him by the shoulders until he spits it out. Luckily for the both of you, you don’t have to do it because now he at long last looks you in the eye and says, “It’s hereditary.”

This time, your roles are reversed and the silence is far longer than the previous beat. A lot longer.

“Say something, sweetheart,” he mumbles, voice strained from nervosity.

“I see.” It’s all you give him and Kiba isn’t sure what the tone means. Either he’s dumb as fuck or he’s just incapable of reading it, it doesn’t matter how sensitive the ears atop his head are – he is still not getting it.

So he asks, “You know what that means?”

Instead of answering, you ask a question of your own, “Is that the reason why you turned all weird when I got off the pill?”

He just nods before his chin dips down, lips pressed into a firm line and shoulders slumped. Oh, boy. Watching how guilty he looks, you almost feel the gears turning inside your head as all the puzzle pieces click and begin to paint the bigger picture you would have never solved on your own otherwise.

And here you were; worrying like some idiot that he was refusing to settle only because he didn’t take you seriously enough.

The entire thing seems so utterly stupid, now that you think about it.

“Is it, like,” your voice breaks before you swallow the saliva that’s gathered inside your mouth. “Is it definite? If we were to have–...”

His expression softens at the worry to glint inside your eyes. “There’s a chance.”

“A chance?”

“Yeah.” He sighs again. “It’s not, like, fully definite or anything like that... I mean, Hana isn’t like this, and we’re brother and sister. But there’s still a pretty big chance, ‘cause I’d be the dad and my genes are… Well, they’re more dominant, I guess.”

“They’re more likely to prevail?” you ask, quirking a brow as you place your hand on his warm chest. His heartbeat isn’t back to normal, per se, it just isn’t nearly as fast as it was before. “I think I’ve read that in an article somewhere before. Or a book I was reading… I can’t remember.”

“I don’t like that word; prevail,” he mumbles, the bridge of his nose scrunching in distaste. You can even see his ears flatten until they’re flushed against his head. “Our kiddos would have as much of you in ‘em as much as they’d have me.”

“Yeah, but if they’re like… This,” you trace his chest gently and jerk your chin upwards to make a point, “they’d have more of you in them than they’d have me, right?”

“They could still have your smile. Or your height. Hell, even your eye colour, which is so pretty by the way.” Kiba says, the corners of his lips twitching when you smile at the smooth compliment. “The yellow would only show when they’d turn once a month; and that's to say if they’d turn. I mean, yeah, it’d play a huge part in their lives, being like this, and it would be hard at times… But that side isn’t everything that'd define them, ya know? They’d still be people. Human.”

You’re surprised how mature he is about this – speaking about it as if he’s practiced it in front of the mirror a dozen times before, albeit still sounding just as genuine. Normally, you’d expect him to be unreasonable whilst attempting to shove his head through the wall, but that’s not the case this time around. And thinking about said case; he’s right.

Even if he turns into something unnatural every full moon, he’s still Kiba, no matter the form. He’s still your boyfriend who likes to poke fun at you every chance he gets, who likes to scream with joy at the TV whenever his favourite team scores a point, who always picks chocolate ice cream over vanilla, who’s terrible at making the fitted bed sheet actually fit over the mattress – all of that. Those quirks make him human, and he is just that. He’s a person, just like you.

Though, he’s just proved to you that he’d be a wonderful dad, too.

“I don’t see it as a bad thing, baby,” you say, blushing at the thought whilst cupping his face delicately. “I still love you, even if you look like you’ve just graduated from Monster High.” It’s no wonder he was so good at being a jock, both through high school and college. Always so agile and fast by instinct.

He snorts, rolling his eyes. “Hilarious.”

You giggle at your own jab. Sigh in content at the kiss he presses to your cheek a moment later. “I still wanna try, you know.”

He stills, warm mouth lingering right next to your temple. “Like… Right now?”

“Yeah.” Your voice is nothing but a whisper as your fingers tangle into his hair and trace the back of one pointy ear. Like a cat, you’re simply too curious to hold back. You can see them both flatten against his head in an instant as he stiffens above you and groans.

“Sensitive?”

“Yeah.” He pauses to draw in a shaky breath. “Very.”

Well, fuck.

You’re growing hot again, almost feverish at how responsive he is to mere strokes. “Should I not touch them?”

“You can. I’ve just never–... Nnh.” He turns into putty that you hold in your hands the moment you scratch his scalp and trace the shape of both triangles after hearing his approval. They’re surprisingly delicate underneath the pads of your fingers; almost silken to the touch and twitching every time you land contact. “Never had anyone touch ‘em before. It’s different than anything else I’ve ever felt.”

His brain might just burst if you actually take his knot.

“Okay,” you whisper. “I’ll be gentle.”

He’s toying with your shirt, claw tugging at the hem whilst attempting to focus. “You seriously wanna try for a baby now?” Turned on so easily and still yearning because of the teasing you gave him before, he can’t think straight.

“Yes,” your answer is confident. Honest. “As long as it’s safe for the both of us, I don’t care if our baby ends up being like you. I’ll still love it, just like I love you.”

God, he could cry at this point. “It’s safe, just a little different... Might hurt a bit ‘cause I’m still pretty big, but I’d never put you in harm's way, you know that, baby.”

Your heart is racing. “How much would it hurt?”

“We’d–...” Goodness, he’s so flustered. “We’d be stuck for a while after we’d be done, like for half an hour… Maybe an hour. It can get a bit uncomfortable.”

“Why?”

He blinks. “Why would it be uncomfortable?”

“No, like why would we get stuck?”

“Oh.” Heat sears Kiba’s face at your question. He’s looking down at you with a furrowed brow and nearly a frown now. You just look so perfect, hair all messy over the pillow and skin dewy, and here he is about to explain the most humiliating thing ever.

“I, uh… God, this is so embarrassing, but I have a knot, okay? It’s meant for, mm… Basically, it makes me unable to pull out, because it literally hurts us both if I try. And uh–...” He’s nearly scowling now, the poor man. “It just gives us a better chance at having a kid, okay? That’s all you need to know.”

“Wow.” Your eyes grow wide at the crude explanation he’s given like he’s some damn caveman. Pure wooden clubs and unga bunga language, like the definition of Fred Flintstone. “So it’s just like in those fanfics I’ve read as a teen?”

“C’mon, baby, I don’t read that shit.” The pointed look he gives you with those sharp pupils tells you everything you need to know. Nearly makes you laugh. “And you shouldn’t have either, ‘cause listen to the crap you’re spouting while we’re talking about our goddamn future… I mean, seriously.”

“Hah!” The chuckle slips out. “I’m so sorry, Ki. I’ll be good, I promise.”

He rolls his eyes in faux-annoyance. “Aha.”

“C’mon, I wanna try!” The smile that’s forcing itself on your lips is so big. “I want to have a kid, and move in together; all of that… So, do you wanna do it for real this time?”

Something is fluttering inside his chest and stomach at your proposal. Something that makes him light-headed as he looks you dead in the eye and says, “Well, it depends… Are you gonna take my knot?”

Oh, he’s serious now. All intense, his eyes are burning like a forge.

“Yeah,” you whisper, the air suddenly solemn. He doesn’t want you to joke about this. “I will.”

“Yeah?” he whispers back. “Even if it hurts a little? You’ll still take it?”

You wonder what ‘a little’ means to him. No matter. “Mhmm.”

Studying your features for any hint of deceit, he’s breathing hard just thinking about it. “Okay.”

As are you. “Okay.”

Moments pass, and the silence is intimate. However, you start to laugh again the moment his tail starts to wag. He’s just so goddamn red, so adorable. “You excited?”

“Yeah, m’sorry,” he mumbles bashfully. “It has a mind of its own sometimes. Especially when I’m happy.”

“You’re happy ‘cause I’ll take your knot?”

“Overjoyed.”

“That’s cute. Like you’re a good boy, or somethin’.” Heat is crawling up your neck as you look at him underneath your lashes and mumble, “So… How do you want me?”

Fuck, that flusters him even further. Especially because the communication is good and you start touching his ears again. Good boy, good boy, good boy – he really is a good boy. “I, uh… Just lemme…”

But instead of finishing his sentence, Kiba just manhandles you into position. He’s as gentle as he can be, perhaps even respectful, though you still feel heat overtake your body the moment he flips you onto your stomach with complete ease and hovers above you by pinning both arms on either side of you.

He’s still so big; strong. His body covers your own, warmth and that musky scent fogging your senses completely. That alone is enough to make you shove your face into the pillow and push your ass up as high into the air as it’ll go. Like a proper little mate.

You smell so sweet with dopamine that it makes his voice sound rough from how dry it makes his throat as he watches you squirm into position, “I–... I gotta undress you first.”

“Just tear it off.” Your eyes are glazed over when you turn your head to the side to look at him. “It’ll be faster that way.”

The drool he forces down is thick. “You want it that bad?”

“I need it, love. Need all of you.” Even the werewolf side.

“Shit… O-Okay.” Goddammit, you’ve even got his voice to quiver as he does what you ask of him. The collar of your top chokes you for a brief moment as he tugs on the back of it, fingers so eager whilst the cotton starts biting into your neck, but then he releases you the moment the noise of shredding fabric fills the room.

Kiba trails his eyes over your exposed back now. At the way goosebumps cover the smooth skin the moment he traces your spine with the tip of one claw. He can see the sides of your tits as they press against the mattress; all plush-like. It just makes his mouth water all the more. “What about the shorts?”

“Same as the shirt,” you mumble, lifting and wiggling your hips again.

His pupils are overtaking his entire irises. “Underwear, too?”

“Mhmm.”

His tail is wagging again, you can hear the dull thump, thump, thump against the mattress. “Tell me what I ever did to deserve you… For real.”

You could tease him. But this moment is tender, intimate, so you decide against it and just say, “Shush.”

You’re naked in mere seconds after that; he’s slicing through the fabric like it’s butter. And that excites you, especially as he inhales so, so deep and says, “Fuck, baby… What’re you doin’ to me?”

“Nothin’...?” you trail off playfully, smiling into the pillow as you feel your toes curl. His voice is just so coarse; so fueled with passion. You’re dripping just because of the dazed tone alone.

“You smell so fuckin’ good, that’s what you’re doing,” he mumbles, kissing your bare shoulder blade as he tops you. “It’s driving me insane.”

Your eyelids flutter shut at the kisses he keeps peppering all over. “Is your sense of smell better than usual?”

“Yeah.” The tip of his nose presses against your spine, making you giggle when the ends of his hair brush your skin. “I can smell how turned on you are. All that dopamine, fuck… I’m so lucky.”

You chuckle now, “I’m surprised you even know what dopamine is.”

“Tsch. Full of fuckin’ surprises today, aren’t I?” He’s got a smile of his own gracing his features, all charm and pointy fangs. “You need foreplay? I’ve put on lube just now.”

“No,” you utter. “I think I’ll be fine.”

“It’ll still hurt… Even with the lube.” Another kiss to your shoulder, his hips are already meeting yours so that he can align himself with your dripping cunt despite the warning. He’s so impatient to get inside you, after all. “I’m, mm… I’m bigger than usual.”

He says it like it’s a bad thing.

But you’re already buzzing with anticipation; heart racing and fingers gripping the pillow as you feel his cockhead prod at your sopping hole. He’s leaking pre-cum, throbbing and pushing against you and spreading gooey lube everywhere. Waiting for you to say the magic words. “I-I can take it.” I think.

“Good enough for me.”

And it’s true: you can take it. Although just barely.

Every inch that he sinks into you now gives you a stretch that is almost unbearable to endure. His cock is big; fat – it makes you cry. Girthy and thick, you can feel the vein on its underside throbbing inside you as he keeps pushing, pushing, pushing. Slowly and cautiously, his ears are pressing flat against his head again and his tail goes limp from how hard he’s concentrating to make you comfortable and to not go fucking berserk.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck… Baby,” he whines. Your pussy is literally drooling. Sucking him in, despite that he’s overtaking your capacity so very fast. “You feel s’good, baby. We-... We’ve still got a bit left but we’re almost there.”

Almost? It feels like he’s in your throat already. Like he’s fucking impaled you on his dick, you’re already salivating onto your pillow, with your eyes crossed and your brain numb. You’re breathing hard; panting underneath him. Sweat oozes out of every pore on your body from the effort you’re both putting into making this work. You’re still so small underneath him, so fragile that it makes him nervous. Doesn’t make him stop, of course, but the nerves are enough to make him chew on his lip.

“Goddammit,” you whisper, screwing your eyes shut. His size is gruelling – it’s literally rearranging your insides. “Y-You’re so big, Ki.”

“I’m sorry.” Genuine.

“Too big, baby.” Your breath jumps and stammers as he bottoms out and groans at the wet smack! The mewl you let out right after makes his ears twitch.

“Ah, I’m so sorry.”

He’s apologetic, sweetly kissing your shoulder and the side of your sweaty neck from how bad he feels for making you hurt. But he can still smell the absurd amounts of dopamine coursing your blood. Can smell the merest hints of oxytocin as well. You’re into this as much as he is.

Your bodies are pressing against one another to become one; your back is arching and his hips are dipping in just to be as close as is humanly possible. Limbs entwine, mouths open and close in needy gasps. Even your skin is tightening and hardening as he starts to throb inside your fucking womb.

“I took you in,” you mumble dazedly. “Took you in… All the way.”

“You’re such a good lil’ mate, baby,” he whispers in reply. “Gonna breed you so good as a reward, okay?”

You’re looking at each other the moment your head whips to the side. The eye contact is so intense that it makes your pussy clench around his goddamn monster cock. “Y-Yeah?”

“Mhmm, yeah.” He sucks in a sharp breath at the sensation; hissing through his teeth, making you glance at the sharp incisors. “Gonna give you so many pups... I can’t wait to hold ‘em. Our babies.”

His words warm your soul, not just your heart. You’re a hot mess; all sloppy from the drool and tears he’s making you spill, but it feels so good. Your boyfriend fills you up in a way nobody else ever could, because they’re just people and he’s a species of his own.

A species that stretches your velvet walls to make room for even more cock. That makes you spurt milky slick and gush all over that same dick as it starts to thrust in and out of your warmth, forcing you to moan out the sickest of profanities.

Fuck, you can feel every drag of his girth. Can feel him in your gut whenever he sinks back in, in, in.

Time turns non-existent as he screws you, and not once does he exit you completely. He’s relentless at staying inside you for eons at a time, yes, even when his pace picks up and turns so harsh that you feel like he’ll snap you into two. Even as you start to literally sob into the pillow, and he repeatedly keeps kissing your cervix with that fat cockhead of his in answer. Even when your moans turn into sounds only a fucked-out slut could produce.

He’s fucking you like an animal, even if it’s slow and passionate instead of violent and rough.

“Gonna–...” Your voice is so high-pitched that it makes his ears slant, “Soon, gonna cum real soon…!”

“Yeah, I can smell it,” he grunts, panting quick and hard. “You’re all oxytocin, baby. C’mon, gush.”

“Tryin’-!” Jaw slack, your mouth hangs open as he hits the sweetspot and makes you squeal mid-sentence instead.

“That’s it, pretty. Spill.” He just can’t stop, the way you clamp down on him is too good for words. “Fuck yourself on my dick, c’mon… Just. Like. That.”

You have no clue how he does it, but he somehow manages to make you cum twice in a row. Reaching one peak before heading right towards the other; everything feels so sensitive and tender, raw. You’re on the verge of fainting, or on the cusp of crying – you, yourself, don’t even know which one it is at this point.

And in the midst of all of that, his claws dig into your hips. His teeth find home in your neck and taste blood. Fangs dipped in crimson, he goes absolutely berserk as he brands you. His hand is covering the entire side of your face as he forces you to look at him. To really look at him.

“You’re mine,” he says, voice so deep that it turns you breathless. “All mine. No other man will ever be able to have you, d’you get that?”

You’re nodding fervently, looking like a doll; like a stupid fucking bimbo. “Y-Yeah, I-I got it.”

And he’s absolutely feral; possessive. All messy and wild, his dark hair is sticking to his forehead from all the sweat. He’s staring at you so deeply that your soul is branded with the same yellow as his eyes are before he slams his mouth against your own and kisses you like he’ll never get another chance to do so again.

You can taste the iron on his tongue; cut your own on one of his fangs, and make him all the more hot and bothered as red spills all over his mouth cavity.

He’ll break you like this. The smell and taste of your blood are to blame, no wonder he didn’t say anything.

Your eyes are closed as you kiss, and so are his. You’re both attempting to focus better on the intensifying sensations whilst your tongues twirl around each other and the strings of saliva break and connect. Every time your lips brush, it sparks electricity in your core. He’s literally twitching inside you; all warm and big. And ready. So ready.

“You’re gonna take my knot and make me a daddy, right?” His whisper sends a chill through you as he grabs you and pulls you even closer. Your body is covered in markings of his teeth and claws; you’re going to ache all over in the morning. But it’s worth it when he licks the shell of your ear and hushes, “Gonna keep being a good lil’ mate for me, yeah?”

So this is how he gets when he wants to breed you for real. You can’t believe he’s had the self-control to pull out every single time you’ve had sex for nearly seven months, when he fucks like this. “Yeah,” you answer breathlessly. “Go-Gonna be a good mate, Kiba…! Gonna take your knot.”

Shit, hearing his name during sex is his weak spot. It makes him want to fuck you into the goddamn mattress until there’s nothing left of you to fuck – as if he isn’t doing that already. “Say it again.”

“Gonna take your knot, Ki-... I-I promise!” You’re struggling to breathe properly, holy fuck. “Gonna be a good mate…!”

“Gotta turn you around… Lemme see ‘em heart eyes.” He’s so close. It needs to happen now; his dick is starting to throb and you need to settle into a position that’s more comfortable before it’s too late.

Still, you whine when he pulls out, and you swear that you can feel him getting stuck between your walls for just the briefest moment before that lewd, squelching noise of his dick parting with your pussy sounds out. And then he’s manhandling you into position again; forcing you into something more decent and vanilla with such ease that you’d think he’s mulled this scenario over in his head a million times before.

And then you’re sobbing his name out when he fills you back up in one ruthless swing again and coaxes the third orgasm out of you. As he just stretches you to the brink of pain again and makes you take it with clenched teeth and teary eyes.

“Fuck, fi-fill me up…! Fill me up, please, please, please…”

Your belly is bulging with his dick, and you’re all oxytocin – delicious, mouth-watering oxytocin – as you begin gushing; leaking warm juices of pleasure until your head is lolling back into the pillow and you’re nearly incoherent.

He’s licking the sweat from your neck, biting on your skin and kissing you sloppily as he just keeps rutting, fucking, screwing. Your pussy is sucking him in no matter how much he bullies it. It’s as if it can’t get enough of him and that big dick of his. Just keeps on demanding that wet, rough pat, pat, pat!

He can nearly feel its fucking heartbeat on his dick.

“Fu-Fuck, baby… God-fucking-damn.” Kiba is stuttering – fucking stuttering as your fingers find his ears and begin to stroke whilst tugging on his hair. As lightning surges through his veins and he sinks into place and just spills everything he’s got the moment you cry out his name. As he gets stuck inside you and the knot is forced into place.

The fucking knot. He can feel you clenching around it; walls fluttering like the goddamn butterflies in his stomach as he paints them white with his warm seed. It’s better than anything he’s imagined. He’s fucked you so many times before, but taking you while he’s in this form is not just a delight, but a dream come true. He’s the luckiest man to ever walk the face of the earth. Utterly blessed.

Not even a droplet of cum is leaking out of you; you’re fused together that tightly.

It takes you both long moments to compose yourselves. You spend the passing minutes just bathing in the sticky afterglow and listening to each other’s hearts. You’ve never felt closer to each other. As if your very souls have mended and become one, the feeling is inexplicable.

“Oh, my,” you mumble through shallow breaths at some point, scrubbing both hands over your face. You’re simply exhausted, he’s hit you like a tidal wave. Has taken away the ground beneath your feet, leading you to a higher place. You just can’t seem to bring yourself back, no matter how hard you try. Especially because he’s still inside you. And because of the fact that he’s going to stay like that for a long while. “That was–... A lot.”

“I know,” he says, resting his forehead against your shoulder. His ear flutters the moment your sharp exhale brushes it when you chuckle. “Fuck, I’m sorry; I was so rough… I tried not to be, but some part of me just–...” He pauses, looking up at you underneath thick lashes. “I’m sorry, baby, okay? I’ll answer any questions you have now, since we, well… Have the time, hah.”

“It’s okay, we’ll do that in the morning when I can think straight again.” You’re pleasantly surprised at how tender and protective he is over you already. Nearly purring above you whilst drinking up your approval and inhaling your scent, he reminds you more of a kitty than a wolf. “I do have one question, though.”

“Shoot.”

“Is all of this,” you gesture all over him, “the reason why you like doggy so much?”

The stare he gives you in answer is so deadpan that it’s hard not to laugh.

“Whaaat?” Caressing his face, you squish both of his cheeks until his lips purse. “What’re you so grumpy for, huh? T’was just a question…”

He’s fighting back a smile of his own as he says, “I wanna break up.”

“Hah!” You snort, the sound derisive. “Turning me into a single mother already?”

A beat of silence passes between you again as he presses his chin to your chest.

“I really hope it’ll stick.” The competitive glint that appears in his eyes when he looks up at you just screams Kiba now. “I wanna give you a mini-me first try.”

“Oh?” You smile, all naughty-like whilst wiggling your brows. “Whatever happened to the kid inheriting my half of the gene pool as well?”

“Well, if it’s a boy, he can have my good looks and your bad taste in music,” he mumbles, chuckling. “And if it’s a girl, she can be a badass like me, and have your shitty cooking skills.”

“Idiot, shitty cooking skills aren’t even hereditary! And it’s not like you’re Gordon Ramsay, or anything…” You’re laughing now, flicking his ear as punishment. “If we weren’t stuck together, I would have beaten your ass by now.”

“You can try it in about,” he says, checking the alarm clock on your nightstand, “an hour, or so. And just so you know, I’ll fold you. Pregnant or not.”

“Yeah?” The smirk that ghosts over your lips is so pretty that it makes his heart jump. “You gonna bite me all over again?”

“You bet.” He’s kissing you right on the mouth as he whispers, “But only ‘cause I love you so much.”

“You know… It’s a good thing you’re a furry and not something nasty, like a zombie or someth– Ouch!” You flinch when he sinks his teeth into your shoulder as punishment, “Okay, okay; I’m sorry for calling you a furry! I won’t do it anymore, promise!”

Kiba is all eye rolls and exasperated sighs at your endless jabs.

“Call me that shit again, and I’ll bite your nose off.”

#kiba #kiba inuzuka #kiba x reader #kiba x you #kiba x y/n #kiba smut #naruto smut #kinktober

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brightlight-dazzlingeyes · 8 months

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always the bridesmaid | rúben dias

💐synopsis: This is Elena’s 5th time being a bridesmaid. She considers herself a professional now, and knows all the important bridesmaid rules, like: throw a perfect bachelorette party, always have tissues and lipstick ready, never overshadow the bride, and last but not least: stay away from the groomsmen. warnings: mostly fluff, flirting and a tiny bit of smut. also alcohol consumption (W.C. 4k)

Always The Bridesmaid

At first, it was her older sister, Elisa, who got married in January, in a freezing cold winter wedding. Elena wore an elegant blue velvet dress. Then, in the spring, it was her cousin Luisa's turn to tie the knot. Elena wore yellow. Now, it’s Ines, her childhood best friend, who’s standing in front of her, as she tries on an olive green silk dress.

“It looks perfect on you!” Ines gleams, her big doe eyes focused on the fabric. They seem to be shining brighter everyday as the wedding day gets closer.

It’s Elena’s third wedding this year. Her fifth as a bridesmaid. She feels like a professional now, and you bet this is a hell of a job. Dress fittings, bridal shower, bachelorette party, rehearsal dinner… All of that while the protagonist of the show is probably freaking out. And it’s the bridesmaid job to make sure it all goes smoothly.

For Elena, a personal rule she created was to stay away from men during the event, especially the single groomsmen who acted like it was a big call of destiny the fact that they were both single at a wedding—and also the perfect chance to get laid. It wasn’t.

Elena had a job, she couldn’t afford distractions. She needed tissues and lipstick ready at all times. She had to make sure the bride was enjoying the party. She had to make sure guests wouldn't kill each other over a bouquet.

“Ivory or Pearl?” Ines is holding two pairs of Dior shoes, one on each side of her head.

Elena thinks they look identical, but it’s important to have an opinion. “Ivory!” She says, not knowing which one it is.

Ines seemed to be happy with her decision, now holding only one pair, gently nodding at the shoes.

“Alright, Ivory it is. This is it.” The blonde looks up to her friend. “These are the shoes I’m getting married with.” Ines has a big smile on her face, but Elena catches the glimpse of anxiety reaching her eyes.

“You’re going to look perfect, cutie.” Elena hugs her friend tightly. “You always looked like a princess, and now with the pregnancy glow you’re even prettier!”

“You think so? I’m so worried about it…”

“It’s not just me! Everybody I speak with is commenting, you’re the prettiest mom-to-be in the world. Relax, everything will be perfect, trust me.”

Elena manages to soothe the worries away for the time being. The next time she sees that look on her friend's face, they’re in Miami, after the bachelorette party.

They’re in a spacious and luxurious hotel room, most of their friends passed out around them. Some on the bed, some on the sofa, Mariana, the sister’s bride, is passed out in an armchair. Elena and Ines are the only ones still awake, the only ones that didn’t consume a drop of alcohol that night.

“Please,” Ines speaks softly, trying not to disturb the others, and Elena becomes worried for a second. “promise me you will have fun at my wedding.”

Elena giggles, not understanding the extent of Ines concerns.

“Of course, you don’t have to ask!”

They’re wearing almost identical pink bathrobes, with the only difference being the embroidery specifying who’s the bride.

“I’m serious, please. It doesn't make sense for me to have all this work throwing a perfect party if my friends are not enjoying themselves. You didn’t even drink today!”

“That’s because…” But Elena doesn't have an excuse that would satisfy her friend, she knows it, so she goes quiet, staring once again at the exhausted sleeping bodies of their girlfriends, some still with their makeup on. Glittery dresses and heels still by their sides.

“The entire point of the ceremony is to be a celebration of love. You need to celebrate with me, girl.”

Elena giggles again, this time shyly.

“Okay, I will. Promise.”

The big day arrived in the blink of an eye. A sunny Saturday. Elena stood at the edge of the sprawling vineyard estate, her eyes drinking in the sight of rows upon rows of lush grapevines that stretched as far as the eye could see. The warm Portuguese sun bathed the landscape in a golden glow, casting long shadows that danced playfully across the ground. She took a deep breath, the scent of earth and grapes mingling in the air, and smiled to herself. Ines had truly outdone herself with the venue choice.

She adjusted the thin strap of her previous mentioned olive green silk sundress, her fingers grazing the pendant at her neck as she glanced around. The pre-wedding festivities were in full swing, with guests mingling and laughter echoing through the air. Elena knew she should be socializing, but she found herself lost in her thoughts, the hum of excitement around her fading into the background.

A loud crash jolted her from her trance, and she turned toward the source of the commotion. A waiter stood beside a shattered tray of champagne flutes, his expression a mix of embarrassment and frustration. And there, amidst the wreckage, stood a man in a perfectly tailored suit, his hand outstretched toward the fallen glasses.

Rúben Dias.

Elena didn't know him in person yet, but she had seen enough photos to recognize Ines’ fiancé's coworker – and one of the groomsmen. He was tall, with a disheveled charm that contrasted sharply with his crisp attire. His hair was casually tousled, as if he had been running his fingers through it, and his mischievous grin suggested that he was well-acquainted with trouble.

She watched as he exchanged a few words with the flustered waiter, he looks shy but has an easy going demeanor that diffuses the tension in the air. As he crouched down to help gather the broken glass, his eyes met Elena's. There was a brief pause, as if time had frozen, and Elena felt a flutter in her chest that she couldn't quite explain.

Rúben straightened up, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer before he turned back to the waiter. Elena looked away, her heart pounding inexplicably fast. What was that? She scolded herself inwardly, cussing her own tendency to overanalyze every fleeting interaction.

Just as she was about to move away and find a quieter corner to observe from, a voice behind her made her jump.

"Elena! There you are!"

She turned to find Mariana approaching, her eyes sparkling with excitement. Ines' sister enveloped her in a tight hug, her energy infectious.

"You're not hiding, are you?" Mariana teased, gesturing to the lively crowd.

Elena chuckled, her nerves momentarily forgotten. "No, just taking in the view. This place is incredible."

Mariana beamed. "I'm so glad you like it. And guess who's here?"

Before Elena could respond, Mariana's attention shifted to someone behind her. Elena turned, her heart doing a little flip as she found herself face to face with Rúben once again. He had approached without her noticing, his grin disarmingly charming.

"Elena, this is Rúben," Mariana said, her voice filled with second intentions. "Rúben, meet one of the bridesmaids, Elena."

Elena extended her hand, trying to appear composed despite the rapid pace of her heart. "Nice to meet you, Rúben."

Rúben's handshake was warm, his gaze holding hers just a fraction longer than necessary. "Nice to meet you too. Ines has been talking about you nonstop."

Mariana rolled her eyes playfully. "I'm sure you've got a lot to catch up on. I'll leave you two to chat."

As Mariana drifted away to greet other guests, Elena and Rúben were left standing together in an awkward silence. The breeze ruffled her hair, and she tucked a loose strand behind her ear, cursing the sudden self-consciousness that had taken over her.

This was part of her bridesmaid routine, the part she despised the most. Being introduced to the single groosman. This time the already awkward by nature situation was made worse by her own nerves. He was affecting her in a way nothing outside of her to-do-list should be allowed to.

Rúben cleared his throat, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he offered her a lopsided smile. "So, bridesmaid, huh? You must be the one keeping everything running smoothly."

Elena chuckled, relieved by him starting up the small talk. "Trying my best. Though I can't take credit for the broken glasses."

Rúben laughed, the sound genuine and infectious. "Ah, that was my little contribution to the festivities."

Lucky for her, something else grabs her attention. A ring on her phone and she finds the perfect excuse to run away from him.

“If you excuse me, I need to check on the bride.”

Ines looked beautiful, a princess, just like Elena had told her. One her face there was a whirlwind of excitement and nervous energy. The ceremony was about to start and the friends exchanged final looks as they walked together to the venue, where the groom was already standing, waiting.

The ceremony took place beneath a stunning pergola adorned with white flowers, with rows of rustic chairs facing the vineyard's picturesque backdrop. The guests were seated, and the bridal party lined up, each bridesmaid holding a posy bouquet of bright yellow sunflowers and burgundy blooms. Elena stood beside Ines, who looked positively radiant in her flowing Elie Saab gown and Ivory shoes.

Even surrounded by photographers, Elena still tried as hard as she could, to take a mental picture of how her friend looked. She wanted to remember that day forever.

She didn’t consider herself a hopelessly romantic, but she loved her friend dearly and as she adjusted her hair, she couldn't help but feel a mixture of joy and anticipation. Today was the day her best friend would marry the love of her life, and Elena was determined to make it perfect.

As the ceremony began, the atmosphere was filled with a sense of love and celebration. The sun bathed everything in a warm glow, and a light breeze rustled the leaves, creating a melodic backdrop to the vows being exchanged. Elena's heart swelled with happiness for her friend, and she couldn't help stealing glances at Rúben, who stood by the groom's side, looking handsome in his suit.

“Today, we are gathered here to celebrate the love between Ines and Bernardo.” The officiant led the couple through their vows and the two lovebirds exchanged rings.

Glasses were raised, and laughter filled the air. Dinner was served, a delectable spread of dishes that showcased the region's finest flavors.

Just like in a fairytale, magically, the afternoon turned into nighttime. The entire venue was lit in candlelight and twinkling fairy lights. The loud, rhythmic pop music blasting on the dance floor announced the final stage of the party.

At that point, Elena only had one thing in her mind: to keep her promise to the newlywed and have fun.

She finds herself walking up to Rúben, her pink bubbly cocktail raised in his direction.

"A toast! To shattered glass and unforgettable entrances!"

“Unforgettable?” He chuckles, toasting with her. “You shouldn’t feed my ego.”

“Or what?” Elena teases, trying to get him out of his cool and collected pose. He should be out of his suit jacket by now, Elena thinks to herself.

There’s a sparkle in his eyes when she says that, a mischievous glint and he changes his demeanor. Now that he knows she’s flirting, he looks more confident. The neon party lights cast playful shadows across his features, accentuating his sun-kissed skin. He sets his wine glass down and steps closer to her.

Elena’s heart skips a bit and she takes another sip of her cocktail to steady herself.

Rúben’s lips curl into a flirtatious grin, and he leans in slightly. "You know," He starts, his voice a low murmur that seems meant only for her ears, "I've always believed that unforgettable entrances deserve equally unforgettable follow-throughs."

Elena can feel the heat of the moment between them, the unspoken tension that hangs between their words and gazes. She can't help but notice how close they are now, the space between them filled with a magnetic pull that's hard to ignore. Her heart races as she locks eyes with him, her breath catching in her throat. The air between them feels charged, and she's aware of the way her pulse quickens under his gaze.

"Oh really?" she replies, a mixture of curiosity and anticipation in her voice. Her mind races with the possibilities of what he might be hinting at.

Their conversation is abruptly interrupted by a well known voice in the microphone, announcing to the guests that the bride will be throwing the bouquet. It’s Mariana, who’s hushing all the single ladies to the middle of the dance floor.

“You’re not going?” Rúben questions when he notices her lingering behind.

“God no!” Elena waves her hand in front of her face, looking in disgust at her friend's excitement. “I’m done with weddings for a while.”

“Why is that?”

They’re both facing the scene, standing close enough to watch but away enough to be safe from the danger zone. They’re leaning against a table, with Rúben arm behind her. He’s as close to her as he thinks he’s allowed.

The suit jacket is gone now and so is his tie.

“This is my third wedding this year. My fifth being a bridesmaid.” Elena whispers in his ear, like it’s a secret.

“And you’re not interested in being the bride?” Rúben 's voice is playful.

Elena lets out a soft chuckle, her gaze lingering on the bouquet-tossing commotion.

“I hate being the center of attention. I prefer being a spectator.”

Rúben 's lips quirk into a half-smile. “Being the center of attention isn't so bad, you know.”

Elena turns her head to meet his gaze, her eyes sparkling with amusement. As they watch the bouquet fly through the air, Elena's heart flutters with a mix of emotions. The playful banter between her and Rúben feels like a secret language shared only between them. The atmosphere is charged with the electric tension of possibility, and in that moment, Elena wonders if this night will indeed end with an "unforgettable follow-through" that Rúben had hinted at earlier.

The bouquet is caught by a guest, and the cheers grow even louder. The music shifts and the lively beats of early 2000s pop hits return to fill the venue with an infectious energy. Rúben's gaze flickers from Elena to the dance floor and back again.

“Would you give me the honor?” His lips curl into a teasing grin, and he playfully extends his hand toward her while Britney Spears' voice fills the air, adding to the carefree ambiance.

Elena chuckles, her heart light as she matches his flirtatious demeanor. With a playful twirl of her fingers, she accepts his invitation, placing her hand in his.

Elena and Rúben share a dance that feels like a continuation of the banter and chemistry they've been building throughout the night. Each twirl, each step, brings them closer together.

Lost in the moment, she doesn't immediately register when the music changes to a slow romantic melody. Elena feels Rúben's hand on her back, the touch both gentle and reassuring. Instinctively, she places her hand on his shoulder, their bodies moving together in the timeless intimacy of a slow dance. The world around them seems to fade into the background.

She feels the rise and fall of his chest against her. His voice broke the tranquil silence that had settled over them. His words are a soft murmur against her ear.

“I wonder what the view of the vineyard is like at night.” he muses, his tone carrying a subtle implication.

Elena meets his gaze, the way he phrases his words is more than just casual curiosity; it's an invitation, a suggestion of something more private, more intimate. In that moment, she senses the desire that lingers just beneath the surface, a magnetic pull that draws them closer together.

Time seems to warp and twist, the boundaries between moments blurring as they suddenly find themselves standing in front of her hotel room. The electric tension that has been building between them since that first broken glass is palpable in front of her.

Elena wonders if she even said goodbye to the bride and groom, the world outside of their shared space feeling distant and unreal.

Rúben’s gaze is intense, his eyes holding a mixture of longing and tenderness. The quiet of the hotel corridor feels like a crossroads, a moment that holds the potential to change everything.

Elena meets his gaze, her heart pounding in her chest. She takes a small step closer, the space between them narrowing until it's almost nonexistent. Her voice is a soft murmur, the vulnerability she feels matching the intimacy of the moment.

"I don't even know if I said goodbye to Ines and Bernardo." she admits, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

Rúben's lips curl into a knowing smile, his fingers brushing against her hand in a gentle caress. "I think they'll understand."

His fingers gently intertwine with hers and they walk inside.

"You are so beautiful," Rúben breathes, his words a delicate confession that sends a shiver of warmth through her. His gaze is intense, his eyes tracing the contours of her face as though committing every detail to memory.

Before Elena can respond, his lips find the corner of her mouth in a tender kiss. It's a soft, fleeting touch that ignites a spark between them, a promise of more to come. The flutter of his kisses continues along the curve of her lips, each delicate press deepening the connection they share.

Her heart pounds in her chest as he finally parts her lips, and their mouths meld together in a passionate kiss. It's a collision of desire, a joining of two souls that have been drawn together throughout the night. The taste of him is electrifying, his warmth a contrast to the cool air of the room.

Rúben's hand moves to the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair as he pulls her gently. The sensation sends a thrill down her spine, and she gasps, the sound mingling with the sigh of pleasure that escapes her lips.

Their tongues meet in a dance that's as old as time, an exploration that's both tentative and hungry. It's a fusion of desire and yearning, a dance that sweeps them into a world of their own making. The sensation is dizzying, their connection intensifying with every passing second.

Elena's senses are overwhelmed – the taste of his kiss, the warmth of his touch, the intoxicating scent of him filling the air. The world narrows down to the two of them, lost in a moment that defies time and space. And as they finally break the kiss, their breaths mingling in the quiet space between them, she's left in awe, surprised there's any oxygen left in the room.

His fingers move from her hair to her back. As he traces the line of her spine, a shiver of pleasure courses through her, and she arches her back in response, a silent invitation for more.

Rúben's touch is both tender and confident, his fingers moving in a slow and deliberate rhythm against her skin. The sensation sends ripples of pleasure through her, her body responding instinctively to his touch. She can feel the weight of his gaze on her, a mixture of desire and concern that adds to the intensity of the moment.

"Is this okay?" he asks, his voice a low murmur that resonates with care and consideration.

Elena nods eagerly, her eyes locked with his in a silent affirmation. The desire that simmers between them is undeniable, a magnetic pull that draws them closer with every passing second.

Encouraged by her response, Rúben's touch continues, his fingers wrapping around her waist in a possessive yet gentle hold.

As they stand there, locked in a moment that's both electric and intimate, Elena can't help feeling thankful for Ines and her kind words, ‘promise me you will have fun’.

Rúben kneels on the floor, kissing her ankle as he takes her heels off. Her dress is lost somewhere in the room, and with him being so far away from her, Elena feels self conscious. She wraps her hands around herself.

“Let me see you.” Rúben begs, still kneeling.

She drops her hands beside her body and lets him stare at her. He looks hungry. Standing up, Rúben is so much taller than her. His body reminds her of Ancient Greek sculptures of Apollo. It’s her turn to stare.

Laying in bed, Elena is on top of him, their eyes glued to each other as Rúben has a finger inside of her. Going in and out, temptingly slow.

“I’m feeling romantic,” She warned him, before. “Maybe it’s the wedding. But I want you to do me nicely, lovingly. Like you like me.”

“I do like you.” He assured her.

But Rúben understood what she meant, he felt the same way. They wanted to make love to each other that night.

“Cum for me.” He whispers and the sound of his voice is enough to drive her over the edge. “Good girl…” Rúben caresses her head and kisses her temple. “You’ve been so good to me.”

Elena will never forget the way he looks at her, with devotion and adoration. Rúben has his own promise to keep and he fucks her lovingly, like he likes her.

“I want you so much.” She cries and Rúben kisses her passionately, trying to soothe her.

“I’m right here.” He’s completely inside of her when he says that, one of her legs on his shoulder. Rúben holds her body down while he tries to find the perfect rhythms for his hips. “You’re perfect…” He loses himself in his pleasure.

“You feel so good…” Elena moans when he gives her another orgasm.

She stirs in the soft embrace of sleep, her senses gradually awakening to the unfamiliar warmth and weight against her body. Rúben’s sweaty form pressed against her own when she woke up, thirsty, in the middle of the night. The memories of the night before flood back.

Elena carefully extricates herself from the tangle of sheets and bodies, careful not to disturb Rúben's peaceful rest. Her bare feet touch the cool floor, sending a shiver up her spine as she stands up, wincing slightly as her legs protest the sudden movement.

She pads softly across the room, her steps nearly silent on the carpet. The air feels cool against her skin, a gentle contrast to the warmth she's left behind in the bed.

Finding her way to the bathroom, Elena flips on the light, blinking against the sudden brightness. She closes the door behind her and takes a moment to catch her breath, her heart still racing from the unexpected movement. The events of the night feel like a dream – a beautiful, intense dream that she's not quite ready to wake up from.

One her phone there’s a text from Mariana, from hours before:

‘you just disappeared, girl, are you okay?’

Elena sends a thumbs up and fills a glass with water, taking slow sips, the cool liquid soothing her parched throat. She gazes at her reflection in the mirror, the memory of Rúben's touch still lingering on her skin. The marks of their connection are invisible yet undeniable.

After a few moments, she sets the glass down and turns off the bathroom light, allowing the room to return to its dim, moonlit state. As she walks back to the bed, the soft sound of Rúben's breathing guides her steps.

Carefully slipping under the covers, Elena finds her place next to him once again, his warmth enveloping her as she settles in. She's aware of the curve of his body against hers, the way their forms seem to fit together like pieces of a puzzle.

Elena allows her eyes to close. The moonlight filters through the curtains, casting a silvery glow over their intertwined forms, a reminder of the connection they share. And as she drifts back into sleep, she's filled with a sense of anticipation for what the dawn might bring, and the continuation of the story that has only just begun.

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