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thewalkingwillowtree · 1 year

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Safe Haven

Series Part Listing Found Here

Neteyam x Original Na'vi Female Character

Summery: Seeking refuge, Xilä and her father venture to the lands of the Omatikaya clan, in the hopes that the Toruk Makto would be generous in allowing them to stay. This is her story about not only finding her strength, but finding love.

Warning: This story contains smut, violence & abuse (please don't read if these topics will affect you)

Some characters have been aged up. Neteyam in particular is 23.

Xilä is my own creation.

Part 1 - Escape

Xilä was roughly roused from sleep. Calloused hands forcefully tugged her into a seated position, shaking her frantically.

“Wake up girl. They’re coming! Get dressed!” It was her father.

Licking her chapped lips and blinking to force herself awake, she watched as her father moved around their tiny home, arming himself with what seemed like every weapon he owned. He was dressed for the outside already- a threadbare hooded cloak was draped over his large body and cracked, hexapede leather boots covered his massive feet.

“Xilä! Don’t make me smack you. Get. Up!”

Moving quickly, she tied her makeshift, calf length boots to her feet- they would be in need of another repair soon.

“Father, what is happening?” She asked shakily as she slipped on her own cloak over her frame, ensuring her hood was secure and her nose and mouth were covered.

“Don’t ask questions. Pack whatever food we have left. We need to leave.”

Her hands shook as she used a scrap of cloth to wrap up a measly hunk of seed loaf, some shrivelled root vegetables and a small clay pot of two day old mashed beans. She had just tied off the knot when she heard distant hoots and howls coming from outside- The Rogue Warriors.

T'shteyo grabbed his daughter’s wrist painfully and dragged her out of their home. Home was putting it lightly. Their abode- like all the others in their little village, was nothing but a poorly assembled lean-to, made out of rocks and sun-baked clay. Weaved, strips of sticks and tree bark acted as their privacy screen and her sad excuse of a bed was the thin skin of deadland beast.

“Keep your mouth shut,” her father hissed harshly as he dragged her behind him.

They kept to the shadows, dodging around surrounding structures and completely dead shrubs, leaping over the deep cracks and faults that littered the ground. The sky was still dark but the tinge of purple told her that morning was near.

Panting excessively, Xilä kept glancing behind her, looking to see if anyone followed them. She felt light headed- having not been used to such vigorous activity. She also hadn’t had a decent meal in who knows how long.

When she realized where her father was leading them she dug her heels into the ground and ripped her wrist from his hold. Stumbling to catch her footing she shook her head vigorously.

“That’s the Dead Forest father. You said it was forbidden. Why- Ah!”

T'shteyo clamped her bicep in a bruising grip and pulled her close. “You questioning me now? You think you know best, girl?”

Her ears fell back and her eyes fell to her feet. “No father.”

“Those bastards back there? Su’ko and his men? They want us dead. And unless you want me to leave your pesky ass here you shut up and do as I say, when I say. You don’t question me. Understood?”

She nodded numbly and once he was satisfied with her response he turned and headed straight into the forest without another word.

The Dead Forest was exactly like its namesake. Dead. There were no signs of life here- not a single green leaf or blade of grass was seen and parts of the forest appeared to be burnt, remnants of smoke lingering in the still air.

When they had made it a substantial distance away from the village, her father stopped at the base of what she assumed was once a grand tree.

“Okay. You stay here and keep out of sight until I get back.”

Xilä perked up in alarm. He was leaving her? Here?! She was about to question him but his glare reminded her of the conversation he’d had with her that morning.

“Keep the food and don’t make a sound. Got me?” And then he was gone.

Scared of every rustle and crack of the woods surrounding her, Xilä squeezed herself between a gap in the large trunk and tucked her knees to her chest, waiting with baited breath.

She felt miserable….but then again she was always miserable. That was her life, wasn’t it? Her mind wandered to the clan- to the home she had just escaped from.

Since she could remember, her clan had struggled. Way before her birth, the lands of the Li'ona clan were well known for its crystal clear rivers and abundant wildlife, but over time the rains stopped and so the rivers dried up. Food grew scarce, the lands became barren and the people suffered.

Through the years the suffering grew worse. They had to wear boots and thick coverings to protect themselves from the harsh weather, else it caused blisters and heat stroke. There were many quakes and tremors too which caused the ground to shift and crack.

One such deadly quake a few years back was the reason they’d lost their home, the reason they lived so poorly now. That quake had also caused the deaths of many of their people- they were too few in numbers now.

T'shteyo, her father, was the clan’s Olo'eyktan and as the people’s despair and misery grew, so did their hatred for the leader. A rebellion was born- The Rogue Warriors as people called them, led by the ruthless Su’ko, tried to overthrow her father’s ruling many times over the years- threatening not only his life but hers too.

Xilä was guessing that them being on the run now meant that rebellion had been successful this time- they had won. Her father had finally been overthrown.

Night drew near now. Where did her father go? How long should she wait until?

Two days went by. She was starving and dying of thirst. The food was long gone and with every second that passed her hope faded. Xilä forced herself to think good things, clinging to the tiny remnants of hope she had left. Hope that her father had not abandoned her. Hope for a better life.

She dared not cry though. Like her father said, crying was a sign of weakness.

On the night of the third day, the loud roar of an animal in the distance woke her from a light slumber. Ears straining to hear she held her breath as its galloping drew closer and closer- until it sounded as if it were right on top of her.

The shadow of a creature bathed her in darkness- fear crippling her…and then she heard her father’s voice.

“Time to go.”

They rode for three weeks straight, stopping only when the beast grew tired. Her father had found the direhorse by sheer luck he’d said. It was massive, ugly and seemed to share the same temperament as its new owner.

Xilä had never been this far from home before and with every minute that passed by, she saw something new and exciting. Never before had she seen so much greenery, so much life. It was hard to keep the grin off her face.

Two days ago when they stopped for the beast to rest and while her father napped, she had snuck away to bathe in the stream they’d collected water from. It was glorious. She scrubbed every nook and cranny of her being, from head to toe.

Her waist length hair was still ratty and tangled but at least it was properly cleaned for the first time in months.

She also managed to wash her worn, shabby shift dress she usually wore under her cloak. It never fit her properly, always hanging off one shoulder uncomfortably. But at least it smelled clean again- like the soap nuts she had used to also scrub her hair and body.

As they journeyed, the forest surrounding them now was lush and alive, thriving in wonderment and Xilä wished she had more than one pair of eyes, if only to see more.

Xilä wasn’t quite sure where they were going, she never bothered to ask either since she knew it would only anger her father.

He had always been angry towards her. T'shteyo was taller than most Na’vi men but his frame was weak. Lack of proper diet over the years had caused him to lose the majority of his muscle mass. That meant nothing though, he was still a force to be reckoned with and through the years of constant trials and tribulations he faced, it hardened him- turning him into the monster he was today.

“We should be almost there now, if we push we’d get there in a day and a half or so.”

Xilä perked up at the sudden information her father decided to share. For the most part, their journey had been conversational less, apart from his occasional grunts of “time to go,” or “eat this,” or “shut up,” the one time she’d been humming too loudly.

“Where is there, exactly?” She asked, hesitantly.

“The Omaticaya clan,” he responded gruffly, chewing on a raw root vegetable as they sat in the clearing the direhourse was grazing in.

They had so far only been surviving on the few raw fruits or vegetables they recognized. Her father refused to hunt or build a fire to cook anything decent.

The Omaticaya clan. She’d heard about them before.

Many years ago, way before she was even born, there was a Great War. Their world had been invaded by spices they called Humans- she’d never seen one in all her nineteen years of life but had heard many horrific tales about the terrifying creatures.

The Humans demolished the Omaticaya home “HomeTree” and so a war broke out. The clan leader, the legendary Toruk Makto had called upon the aid of other clans. Xilä’s father had been one of the few leaders who responded to their call for help- leading his own warriors out to battle.

“And…you know where they live now?” She asked, wondering how he knew where to find them, even after all these years.

He sucked his teeth and grunted in acknowledgement. “Now listen here. You don’t say a word to anyone. You leave the talking to me, got it? Step a toe out of line and you’ll have it coming, that I promise.”

A rustle and the crack of a twig had them both alert and simultaneously jerking to the direction it came from. The next few seconds seemed as if played out in slow motion.

A massive hissing creature lunged out of the wilderness and attacked their direhorse that was grazing some feet away.

Xilä screamed and scrambled to her feet as her father charged at the beast, his knives at the ready.

Movement caught her eye and now there was another six legged creature edging its way to closer to the direhorse. At her gasp it snapped its head in her direction, stilling for a fraction of a second before it charged.

Xilä ran.

Pushing herself, she dodged around the illuminated flora surrounding her, screaming at the stop of her lungs as it quickly gained on her.

She grappled onto a tall thick tree root, ungracefully pulling herself up to claw her way higher up the tree. It did nothing to deter her predator as it leaped forward landing on the branch above her.

With a terrified gasp and a silent scream she slipped. Her head landed against the forest floor with a resounding CRACK. She stared helplessly as the creature above her leaped onto the ground once more, prowling towards her.

Just as it moved to pounce, an arrow embedded into its side. It roared angrily, hissing and stumbling on its legs before another arrow joined the first.

Then it finally fell. Dead.

Xilä was immovable. Head throbbing agonizingly, her vision grew dark.

The last thing she saw before she lost consciousness was a flash of vibrant blue stripes and gold glowing eyes.

Hello lovelies, I missed you guys! I am finally back with another story. The style will definitely be different, but I'm hoping you guys like it.

This is kind of an introduction per say, the other chapters will be longer. Fingers crossed I have part 2 up tonight, if not tomorrow.

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged.

Thanks for reading. Please like and comment, I love hearing from you all :)

Tag: @riatesullironalite

#neteyam #neteyam x oc #neteyam avatar #neteyam fic #neteyam x reader #neteyam fanfiction #neteyam sully #avatar twow

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stellanslashgeode · 5 months

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WIP Wednesday

I am almost ready to post another chapter of Dissonance and Upheaval, my first contact AU. I'm thinking of pushing a scene into the next chapter to make it less complicated. Here's a sample.

Ahsoka guided them through valleys and canyons, then there was a huge expanse of rolling chaparral hills. She tried to skirt the edge of the desert here, or areas that wildfires had cleared out so they would not get hemmed in by the shrubs. Scraped by their thorns. She made note of the local flora and fauna as they went. She particularly took interest in the sand crabs. They had dome-like carapaces and many legs they used to sift the sands for food which led beautiful corrugated trails zigzagging across the landscape.

Barriss was quiet at first. Ahsoka assumed she was quietly praying and she gave her as much privacy as possible while still bracing her to her chest with one hand. When they stopped for a midday meal Ahsoka tossed some scraps to that blackbird that was still following them. It hopped in the air to snatch the food, its long tail trailing behind it. Some birds had little pinion fingers and talons on their wings and lizard-like tails.

After their midday meal and Barriss’ prayers they got underway, leading their mount down a dry river bed. Ahsoka could tell that Barriss was despondent about something. She rubbed carefully where she held her in place just below her ribs.

“How are you feeling?” Ahsoka asked.

“Like I need a distraction.” She replied, and continued after a brief pause. “Ahsoka, you love me?”

“I am devoted to you, as your sun is to providing light and heat.” She answered.

“Would you do anything for me?” Barriss asked.

“I would move mountains stone by stone, my love.” She answered.

“You want to marry me.” This was more of a statement.

“That I do.”

Barriss leaned back against her more pronouncedly. Ahsoka could feel trepidation wriggling inside her being.

“Then could you tell me about your childhood? I’ve told you so much about my family and my life here on Mirial, and I know hardly anything about your past. I want to learn everything about you, Asoka. Please?”

Ahsoka grumbled deep in her belly. She couldn’t help it.

Barriss continued. “I understand it is a sore subject, my dear. I’ve tried to be patient. But I need to keep my mind active right now and I cannot defer my curiosity anymore.” She hesitated. “We are to be married, Ahsoka. In our belief that is alike to having your soul cleft in two and fuzed for all time. A little of you will be me, and a little of me will be you. Do you understand? I have clear eyes on who you are now. But I want to know where you have been. What you have seen. Who you were. Where fate found you and led you to here. Into my arms.”

Ahsoka closed her eyes and just felt Barriss’ weight against her chest and the movement of the beast below her for a second.

“You are right, of course. I have been too indulgent of my grief. Now that I have accepted that Mirial will be my home, and now that I want it to be my home, I should accept that my past is in the past and it would be freeing to tell you. And more of a burden to keep it hidden.”

Ahsoka’s keen hearing could pick up the slight clicking sound of Barriss smiling, the corners of her lips pulling back to show her teeth.

“Good. Could you please begin at the beginning?” She asked.

“That is often the best place to start.” Ahsoka conceded. She took a deep breath. “My mother was a huntress."

#star wars fanfiction #barriss offee #ahsoka tano #barrissoka #star wars au

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nyxia-worldbuilding · 24 days

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Very nervous to share this lol

Chapter one- The Statue

The day started as usual, Faith was scheduled for sword training with her father, King Dionis. She got up early, as getting into armor with wings, or the one she had left, was no easy task. Once she was ready, she walked at a fast pace to the courtyard, her father wanted Faith to practice on different terrain and use her magic to her advantage. Once he joined her they talked about training, and what they’d do for it.

“Hey feathers, how’s your day going?” King Dionis was a kind man, and he had a gentle but authoritative voice to him.

“Morning, I’m doing good. I’m ready for training, obviously, how’ve you been?” Faith was prepared for training to begin, she just wasn’t aware of what her father had planned for them yet.

“I can see that, I’m doing well myself, but before training starts, I’d like to walk with you through the gardens, there’s something I’d like to show you.” Her fathers suggestion wasn’t how they normally started training, but Faith didn’t think anything of it, she went along with her father looking at the blossoming trees and the shrubs, smelling the sweet spring air, Faith had spent many hours of her life in this garden, but it always seemed new every year.

He led them to the hedge gardens, where all the statues and sculptures were kept, rows of stone faces stood looking onto neatly placed benches, each one intricately made by hand, their bodies frozen in time and separated by the bushes. But among them all, King Dionis brought Faith to a specific one, near the end of its row.

“Do you know this man, Faith?” Her father gestured towards the statue they stood in front of.

“Isn’t this the statue Grandma sits around? But, no, I don’t know him, why?” Faith recognized there was an amount of importance to the statue, but is unaware why. Her father looked at the stone man draped in a granite cloak with a slight pain in his eyes before he looks back at her sorrowfully.

“This is my father, he died in the battlefield before I had the pleasure to meet him.” Her father spoke in a steady voice, looking at Faith and how she reacted.

“Oh, I never knew, I’m sorry.” Faith looked toward the ground awkwardly and her wing shifted behind her.

“Don’t be sorry, like I said, I never met him, my mother would tell me endless stories about him though, but I’m not trying to make you feel bad for me or for your Grandmother. Now tell me, what do you think of him?” Faith pondered the question for a moment, wondering why her father asked her this question.

“I wouldn’t know, I never met him, and I don’t know anything about him besides what you’ve told me.” Faith was still unsure if she answered correctly but she looked at him again, taking in his details, the different colored minerals making up his body, the movement of his display, but she also noted the lack of a weapon, and the impractical clothing for war. “Father, why did he go into battle, he doesn’t look like the type to fight in a war. Also, the queens are the ones who usually fight, grandma may be old, but she can definitely put up a good offense. What happened?” Faith looked at her father and when he spoke it was in a hesitant manner.

“Well, when my mother, or your grandmother, was pregnant with me, she was called into battle, but her advisers told her to send my father in her place until she gave birth. He never returned as he died in battle, I was born shortly after the funeral.” Faiths father looked at the platform on which the old king stood in his boots of quartz, and his eyes reflected the sadness he felt, and a small tear of guilt flowed down his cheek. “Apologies, Feather, I got lost in thought for a moment, let’s get to training.” He gestured for Faith to follow him back to the center of the courtyard, and training begun.

#orginal character #original story #worldbuilding #fantasy #Faith lore #Eclipida #faiths story #writing

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steponmeinejghafa · 11 months

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First Bench Pt.1

Summary: Zoya Nazyalensky has always enjoyed top marks in class, and was always in the good books of the teachers. The truest first-bench student to ever exist. However, one day, a new student takes the spot. Through the year, several events bring Zoya and Y/n together, and in the end, something strange occurs.

High School!AU

Zoya Nazyalensky x fem!Brekker!reader

Warnings: None

———————————————————————

“Top marks as usual, Miss Nazyalensky,” smiled the home room teacher, Miss Reznik, as she handed Zoya her test paper. A round of soft groans went through the class, which all radiated the same message.

Obviously it was Zoya Nazyalensky who got top marks.

A self-satisfied smirk spread over Zoya’s features. She was good at everything, and she knew it. Every test? She aced. Every teacher? Loved her. First bench? Every class. Her academic reputation was unbreakable.

Or so she thought.

“Now that you’ve all received your tests, I think it’s time for me to introduce a new student to all of you. She’s just moved here from Kerch, and all this is rather new to her, so do be nice,” the teacher smiled and called someone in from outside. “Miss Brekker, do introduce yourself.”

A girl with h/c hair and lovely e/c eyes stepped gracefully into the classroom. She radiated a certain quietness which felt dangerous and calming at the same time, and it made Zoya a tad suspicious. However, that feeling seemed to vanish the very second the girl’s lips quirked up into a small smile as she shyly waved to the class.

“Miss Brekker, do introduce yourself,” smiled the teacher, sitting down.

She’s nervous, Zoya thought. Of course she is, she’s bait in a school of sharks.

“Well, I’m Y/n Brekker,” said the girl in slightly broken Ravkan. “And I just came here from Kerch, as Miss Reznik so kindly pointed out. I came here with the rest of my family, actually, and it is lovely to be here.”

The class clapped politely, and Y/n looked down, making her way to the closest seat.

The seat right beside Zoya.

A collective murmur spread through the class again, as they marvelled at the new girl’s choice to sit next to the teacher’s pet. And in the first row. It wasn’t like she had any choice, really, there was only one seat left in the class.

As Miss Reznik started class, Zoya couldn’t help but notice how the new girl sat attentively, listening to every word the teacher was saying. It was unusual for a quiet kid to sit on the first bench, and pay attention.

Miss Reznik started reading out the first few stanzas of a stupidly long Shu poem, one which the syllabus had included earlier that year.

“The garden is beautiful, with its flowers in neat rows, with each shrub trimmed, it worries little of the world outside, which is hidden by walls high and of stone.

The blackbird perches every day, on a big green tree, singing songs of love, loss, and tragedy.

The garden wilts, it’s walls start to crumble, the shrubs grow wild, as the weeds sprout beneath the carefully made path, the cracks growing larger as days and nights dance along.”

“Now, in this complex Shu poem, who can tell me what the basic idea of this stanza is?” Asked the teacher.

Before Zoya’s hand could shoot up, yours was already in the air.

Honestly, before you, Kaz, and the others had fled Kerch, you brushed up on every last bit of your studies, which included every single meaning of every Shu poem to exist.

Which was mainly a summer project you started with your closest friend, Nina. She had come to stay at the Slat with your brother and the rest after she came all the way from Ravka, so she knew what she was doing by taking that project up with you.

“Well, with reference to the garden, it symbolises beauty which has been held back from the world, made to be perfect by an experienced hand, even though it’s supposed to run free,” you said, in the same tone which Zoya used when she knew more than the class.

It infuriated her to no end.

“Well done” smiled the teacher. “I think you might have some competition, Zoya.”

Zoya smiled, but it was more of a grimace, as her hand clenched itself into a fist, her knuckles going white beneath the desk. She didn’t know you much, but she knew she hated competition. You were competition.

Naturally, she hated you.

Oblivious to the silent anger radiating off Zoya, you continued answering everything before she could, unknowingly infuriating her further with each passing moment.

The shrill sound of the bell made her anger cease, though she watched you through eyes narrowed in annoyance, as you exited the class.

She followed you out, and leaned a row of lockers as you high-fived a plump, rosy-cheeked girl with curly hair, and hugged a girl with deep brown skin and clever dark eyes, whose hair was done in a tight braid till her hips.

She decided she’d play a small game with you.

She sauntered over to you and the other two girls with a pleasant smile on her face, masking her cunning thoughts perfectly.

“Y/n Brekker, wasn’t it?” She asked, tapping you on the shoulder.

You turned around, and smiled slightly at her, replying, “Yes, indeed. Zoya, was it?”

She extended a hand for you to shake. “Zoya Nazyalensky. Lovely to meet you.”

You took her hand and shook it firmly, the way your brother had taught you, your e/c eyes fixed on hers, irises unmoving. Truth be told, Zoya didn’t know wether to be intimidated or turned on.

Little bit of both, maybe?

Focus, Zoya. She chided herself.

“Who are these two?” She asked, looking at your two other friends over your shoulder.

“Inej Ghafa,” said the dark-eyed girl with a curt nod. “Pleasure.”

“Nina Zenik,” smiled the rosy-cheeked girl, “It’s lovely to make your acquaintance.”

“I’d suggest you stay careful of who you decide to make your enemies, Y/n,” said Zoya slyly. “Just so you know.“

Confused, you smiled an upside-down smile, replying awkwardly, “Okay, then…thanks?”

She winked at you and turned around, waving her hand over her shoulder to bid you goodbye.

You were too confused for processing her statement, and you definitely knew you had a thing for that wink. It was a cocky wink, one which conveyed she was self-confident and she knew it.

“I need Kaz,” you said, running a hand through your hair, eyes widening as you turned your gaze to the floor.

Zoya was unpleasant and you knew it. She had this passive aggressiveness which you’d detected the second you walked into class. She was cocky in a way which pissed you off, and now you identified her as competition.

Just like her, you hated competition. And Zoya was competition.

And you didn’t like to lose.

———

Academic rivals to lovers, I’m so excited! Please request ideas if you’d like! And should you want to be in a tag list, let me know!

#first bench miniseries #nina zenik #inej ghafa #shadow and bone #jesper fahey #wylan van eck #kaz brekker #lesbian #wlw #female y/n #enemies to lovers #academic romance #school au

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quillsanddaydreams · 3 years

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what great men say

james potter x reader

—author’s note: I was extremely soft about James and just how goofy he is around his friends and I just had to write it down. So what does being friends with James and eventually falling for him include? Enjoy!

—warning(s): mentions of food, she/her pronouns!reader

—wordcount: 3,196

You sighed looking at the time. He would be here any minute— he never came late. Tapping your foot, you turned your attention to the book open in front of you. Transfiguration. The subject that you struggled with the most. James excelled at it.

The turtle he transformed the teacup into that day was stunning. Popping its head inside the green-gold shell as everyone looked on. James smiled teasingly wide when McGonagall had commended him. No one noticed when he shifted aside to talk to the turtle in a baby voice. It made you smile. You blinked. Words swirled on the page you’d opened. Shaking your head, you turned to concentrate on them.

“There you are!” James shouted as the librarian shot him a glare. He was huffing— apparently from running to the library. He made an apologetic face and slowly came and plopped down beside you.

“Do you always have to be loud?” you said as he playfully rolled his eyes.

“Well, a great man once said loudness is the way of life,” he huffed, breathing deeply as you raised an eyebrow.

“And is this great man you?”

“Are you saying anything to the contrary?”

You let a small smile play on your lips which etched his grin further.

“I wouldn’t dare,” you said as he adjusted his collar, looking smug.

“I mean, even great men tell the turtle they made from a teacup that it is a good boy,” you said nonchalantly, opening a notebook. James flustered.

“I didn’t tell Jake he was a good boy,” he murmured.

“Jake, huh?”

“Shut it.”

The two of you spend the next hour working on the transfiguration assignment. James was patient as he helped you through spells and theory. You laughed, studied and talked. It was just like that between you two. You were good friends, you teased each other, pulled a few pranks and had fun. There was something about him that made you open up more than anyone else. And you loved him. It was stupid really.

James was utterly and completely in love with Lily Evans. Everyone knew that. You tried and you tried to push it back but you couldn’t help it. It crept up upon you- he had always been so kind to you, so adorably cute that you just fell for him. As torturous as it was, you didn’t dare to even hint him about it. Listening to him gush about the perfect head-girl, you never let your smile fade even if it never reached your eyes.

James poked your side as you packed your books.

“Hmm?”

“Lily and I talked a lot last night,” he said excitedly as your chest contracted. You zipped up your bag, hanging it by your side.

“Oh yeah?” you asked, plastering on a smile. The two of you started moving out of the library.

“It was amazing,” He said, punctuating each word, a dreamy look on his face. “She told me about her muggle life- records, music tapes- that sort of stuff. She was surprised when I talked to her about Queen and Beatles, impressed even.”

He scratched the back of his head, narrowly avoiding a first year who ran past the two of you.

“Couldn’t tell her you introduced it to us and it’s what Sirius blasts in the room all day long.”

You giggled.

“Did he listen to all of them already?” you asked, desperate to change topics. The two of you turned around the corner. James scoffed.

“Pretty sure he heard each of them at least a hundred times.”

“It’s good music James,” you sighed. “Ask him whether he’s free next Hogsmeade weekend, I’ll show him a place he’s going to adore.”

“Ah, I have some head-boy duties with Lily, Remus is helping Slughorn for extra credit and Peter is practicing astronomy,” James said as you furrowed your eyebrows.

“So Sirius is free?”

“Yes, but we aren’t,” James shrugged as you laughed.

“Okay,” you dragged on, not sure where the conversation was going. “Ask him if he’d like to go with me?”

James turned to you, confused.

“You’ll go with Sirius, alone?” he asked as you hummed in response, shrugging. He scowled.

You turned back at James standing at the door to the common room.

“Tomorrow, same time?” you asked with a smile. He nodded giving you a half-hearted grin and moving towards his room. Did you say something wrong? Shaking your head, you retreated to your dorm.

-♡♡♡-

A loud knock shook you. You looked towards the window and… James?

“James what the hell are you doing there?” you asked, jolting towards the sill and unlocking it. The idiot was standing a broom nearly forty feet above ground.

“I was wondering whether you’d join us all for a trip to the kitchens?” he breathed, a small smile playing on his lips. You heard snorts making you look down at the ground. Sirius, Remus and Peter were rolling out in laughter, but you couldn’t think much about that.

“Are you insane? Bloody sit down on your broom or come in,” you said eyes wide.

“Fine, I’m coming.” James grinned, jumping inside. He grabbed your arms almost falling over you. A strong perfume attacked your senses. His face was so close to yours, you could count the faint freckles on his face. Messy strands of hair fell over his forehead making you want to run your hands over them. You blinked, steading yourself before taking a step back. James coughed.

“Um, I was sneaking out for some hot chocolate,” he said placing his hands in his jeans’ pocket, thumbs out. “I remember you complaining we never took you.”

“Oh,” you said, feeling awkward all of a sudden. “Let me just get my jacket, it’s kinda cold.”

Grabbing the nearest jacket, you put it on as James stared around your room. You had decorated it beautifully. Post cards, quotes and some letters were put up on a wall on the far end. His eyes fell on you as you turned to him smiling, ready to leave. He gulped.

“How are we leaving?” you asked and James gestured to his broom floating outside your window.

After much bickering, you found yourself sitting behind James, holding onto him for your dear life. That wasn’t to say you didn’t enjoy it. It felt good being so close to him, having your hands around his waist. You almost felt sad when you reached down. Sirius smirked at you as you climbed off the broom. He knew more than he probably should.

“What took you so long?” Peter complained. You saw Sirius open his mouth to say something but closed it on seeing your glare. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder.

“Well now that she’s here, shall we?” he said leading you ahead of the group.

James frowned at the two of you. Sirius whispered something in your ear making you roll your eyes playfully.

“What’s made you so off now?�� Peter asked. Remus patted his shoulder.

“Jealousy is always a bad colour on people my dear wormtail,” Remus said dramatically. James raised it eyebrows.

“I’m not jealous,” James said pointedly and then shrugged. “What would I be jealous of?”

Remus rolled his eyes.

“Sureeee.”

You took in the warm room while the boys asked for hot chocolates for all of you. Sweet smell of banana bread and muffins eloped the kitchen. Remus called for you, handing you a steaming mug of cocoa. You sat down beside James tuning in to their conversation. He gave you a small smile as Remus and Peter quarrelled about their divination predictions. You laughed and you talked, feeling the week’s tension slowly slip off your shoulders. When it was time to leave, you felt oddly content. Making them promise to make this a monthly thing, you finally turned to leave. James held you back.

“I was wondering, if you’d like to have a bit more fun?” James asked, biting his lip. “Just us two.”

You looked at him curiously and licked your lip.

“And what will this fun, entail?”

“There’s this small place near the edge of forbidden forest,” he said and you raised an eyebrow. “I swear it’s not that dangerous. It’s honestly beautiful.”

James didn’t know why he was so bent over to spend some more time with you. All he knew was that he didn’t want the evening to end. He didn’t want to leave you just yet. So when you nodded slowly, he couldn’t stop the grin that spread on his face.

The two of you tip-toed through the castle, James’s invisibility cloak with him just in case. Checking the map, he turned towards you. Taking your hand in his; he whispered, “Run.”

Your eyes widened. James sprinted forward, taking you with him. There was no time to think. Trying to keep up with him— you made your way through the grounds, the air icy against your face. You were huffing by the time you reached the lip of the forest.

“What exactly were we running from?” you asked, taking in gulps of air.

“No one— we were taking too much time,” he said shrugging. “And adrenaline always feels good.”

He didn’t notice you glaring at him. You slapped his arm playfully.

“Hey—” he groaned, rubbing at the spot.

“Now that you’ve wounded me, shall we?”

You nodded, biting the inside of your cheek. Placing his palms on your shoulder James turned you, leading you towards a small clearing. Your arms erupted in goosebumps, feeling him right behind you. His breath tickled your neck. Did he really not know the effect he had on you? Reaching there, James gestured around dramatically. Fireflies buzzed around the area and the ground bloomed with wild flowers.

“Wow,” you gasped. James watched you, his face lighting up. Running your hands through the shrubs you looked up. Night sky was always clear at Hogwarts. But somehow it seemed even more beautiful then. You glanced towards James catching him staring.

“See something you like?”

“You look beautiful,” James uttered before he could stop himself. Your cheeks heated up.

You did. You looked gorgeous every single day. James swallowed, a distinct blush covering his cheeks. He felt your gaze on him, waiting for him to say something. He heard you sigh after a little while.

“You know, when I was small, I used to collect fireflies in a jar,” you said, sitting down slowly. James joined you. “Pretty little things they were. I would stare at them for hours. Mum hated them. Dad didn’t seem to mind. They would zoom around in the jar and I would take it in hand running through the house saying they were my army. Danger shall befall those who cross me— I used to say”

James let out a laugh, sighing as you both watched the stars. Sneaking a glance at him, you caught him doing the same. Light from flies lighted up his face, his brown eyes sparkling. You didn’t know who leaned in. His lips were soft against yours as you let your hands tangle in his hair. His arms went to your waist, tugging you towards him. The kiss seemed to light you up. Pulling back breathless you stared at him, seeing something that made your stomach. Guilt. You dug your nails into your palm, waiting for the excuses to come. And it came. He called out your name.

“Don’t.” You snapped.

Scrambling to your feet, you started moving back towards the castle. James followed you.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think. I don’t know what happened and I—”

You twisted towards him.

“I’m not angry at you James,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. James frowned. “I— I just like you, okay? I’ve liked you for quite some time.”

James’ eyes widened a little. You let out a laugh, looking away.

“I’m not angry at you. I’m angry at myself. Do you realise how pathetic it is, to love someone knowing they’ll never love you back? Every day I’ll tell myself; it doesn’t matter. That it’s a crush and it’ll go away. And every day I fall a little more in love with you knowing you’ll never feel the same.”

Silence fell around you and you wrapped your arms around yourself. You felt cold. James watched you, desperate to reach out. He wanted to stop you but he didn’t know how. All he could do was listen.

“I think, I think it’ll be better for me to stay away from you for a while,” you breathed, trying your best not to let the tears in your eyes fall.

You walked back to the castle leaving James alone. A tear fell down his face and he furiously wiped it off.

-♡♡♡-

The next few days seemed never-ending. Classes, homework and head-boy duties kept James busy. He practiced harder and longer on the field. But his mind wasn’t in it. It was full with the thoughts of you. He tried. He really tried to reach out to you somehow. To catch your eye during classes, give you a small smile, but you hardly even glanced at him. It hurt. More than he could ever care to admit. He had quite forgotten what it was like not to spend time together every single day. To not listen to you complain about your day, hear your laugh. He felt alone.

Bacon and eggs were laid out in front of him, but he couldn’t bring himself to eat. He toyed it around with his fork.

“Ahhh James! Just the person I was looking for,” Lily said with a bright smile as James looked towards her. “I was thinking maybe you could join me after lunch? We can review the prefect rounds’ details.”

James furrowed his eyebrows.

“Didn’t we do that last week?”

Lily’s expression fell, but she covered it up quickly.

“Yes we did, but I thought maybe we could go over them again?” she said expectantly.

“Uh- sure.” He said, moving his attention back to his plate. He pushed it away.

Sirius, Peter and Remus raised their eyebrows at him. James looked at them questioningly.

“Are you dead?” Remus asked.

“No?”

“Yeah I think he’s dead.” Sirius pipped in. James opened his mouth to retort but Sirius bet him to it.

“Look, I know finding out your friend is in love with you while you think you’re in love with someone else isn’t easy—”

“Especially when you’re actually in love with the said friend," Peter said, taking a bite of his toast. James opened his mouth.

“Especially then —but you gotta make up your mind. Go date Lily and find out how worthless it is and then go back to friend or go now and talk to her and tell her what you really feel about her.”

James blinked.

“I’m not in love with her,” he said slowly as they collectively groaned. He ignored them. “And how did you know that she told me she likes me?”

“It was obvious?” Sirius said as Remus rolled his eyes.

“You know what? Let him continue his idiocy for more. I want to see how long this can actually go on,” Remus said as others hummed in response, shrugging.

“What? You’re not even going to listen to me now?” James stated as his friends paid no attention.

“Not when you’re being a dumbass, no.”

James banged his head on the table. Remus continued to read his book while Sirius and Peter concentrated on their breakfast.

“What if, what if I said,” James began slowly. “That maybe I do love her. I do love her and I was the biggest fool in the world and screwed this up beyond repair?”

Remus stared at James, a small smile overcoming his features.

“You tell her exactly that.”

-♡♡♡-

You sighed turning the page. The story was captivating at first, but now— not so much. There was a knock at the window and you turned to see… James? Your heart thumped against your chest. He stood there, probably on his broomstick waiting for you to let him in. Pushing the covers aside, you got up and opened the small lock as James hopped in. Your chest clenched seeing him for the first time in weeks. You had missed him. His hair was disheveled and he fidgeted awkwardly, staring at you.

“James why are you here?” you asked softly. You wanted nothing more than to hug him. But you held back. You couldn’t do that to yourself, not anymore.

“I— um— I wanted to tell you something,” he said as you gestured at him to go on. There was silence.

“Well?”

James flushed, looking down.

“I— I had this whole speech prepared and now I forgot what I was supposed to say,” he said and you looked at him curiously. “I know it starts with me saying I might be the biggest dumbass at Hogwarts.”

“That I can agree on,” you pointed out, a small grin evident on your face. James cracked a smile hearing you tease him after weeks. Somehow, he never minded it when it was you. There was silence again, but this time it felt calmer.

“You see? I had a fascination with this red-headed girl,” he whispered. Your throat bobbed. He was here to talk about Lily? “This fiery girl who rejected me every time I asked her out. And my fascination just grew. So much that I couldn’t even notice myself falling for someone else. Someone who’d been an amazing friend.”

Your eyes snapped towards him and he gave you a light smile.

“I don’t love Lily. I don’t. And I hate myself for not realizing it. But even more than that I hate myself for turning you away. I’m sorry,” he said as you sniffed, letting his words soak in. He loved you, not Lily. You knew you must be looking like an idiot then, giddiness blooming through your body.

“Are you sure this isn’t the speech you prepared?” you said as James chuckled. He shook his head.

“My prepared speech was written by a great man and it did not end with an apology.”

“Oh? What did that great man end the speech with?” you said, joy evident on James’ face. He was enjoying this.

“Asking you out,” he said cheekily and you let out a snort.

“Well, that’s a let down,” you said, putting on a disappointed expression, noticing James furrowing his brows. “I was hoping the speech would end in some kisses; after all, don—"

You couldn’t finish the sentence as James pulled you closer by your waist and pressed his lips against yours. You sighed, tugging him closer by his neck. Pulling back, you rested your forehead against his taking deep breaths.

“I fucking love you,” James said, cradling your face and starting to press kisses all over. You giggled.

“I love you too. Tell that great man I’d like to go out with him this Hogsmeade weekend, will you?” you said as James let out a laugh.

—as for the taglist: I don’t make taglists, I have a blog @from-my-quill which is updated whenever I post fanfiction. You could have the notifications on for it and it will work just like me tagging you.

⟨⟨REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE APPRECIATED⟩⟩

#james #james potter #james potter x reader #james x reader #sirius black #remus lupin #marauders #marauders x reader #the marauders #hp #harry potter #james potter x you #james x you #james potter x y/n #james x y/n #from anu's quill

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sourholland · 4 years

Text

A Royal Convenience || Tom Holland

| Series Masterlist |

Part Two

AN → You might all be wondering where I’ve been, I honestly just needed a bit of a break for my mental health! I’m sorry, I’ve missed taking to you all <3

Summary → When an alliance is made between England and France, you are sent away to marry the crown prince and heir to the British throne. Except both you and Prince Thomas despise each other at all odds, subjected to the hand of the monarchy and unable to stand each other.

Pairing(s) → Prince!Tom x Princess!Reader

Warnings → None

Word Count → 2.0k

“Could one of you run off and find out if my son is planning on gracing us all with his attendance.” Nicola’s voice was assertive, dripping with irritation at the Prince’s tardiness.

A man holding a closed box with an assortment of rings stood off to the side of the drawing-room. He was stiff, awkward even, in the presence of not only the Queen, but the Princess and future Queen of England. His eyes were trained on the freshly polished floors, clutching the velvet.

Behind you stood your newly introduced ladies in waiting, there were three: Lady Eloise, Lady Charlotte, and Lady Andrea. They were very young, pretty, and had very clearly come from aristocratic backgrounds. Each of them held a title, meaning they’d soon enough marry. You’d planned on meeting them for tea, but Queen Nicola figured it would be better to bring them in before you chose an engagement ring.

“Apologies, mum,” Tom came through the double doors, his hair skewed and his shirt disheveled. He bowed, taking a spot beside his mother and averting his eyes from you.

“Thomas, wonderful of you to join us,” she drawled. “Do begin, sir,” she said, motioning towards the man.

He opened the box a bit shakily, dozens of diamonds gleaming. They ranged from color to carrots of gold, each holding a different and more interesting background. You couldn’t help but to reach out and pick up one with a deep sapphire.

“That was once worn by the late Queen Elizabeth l,” he droned on, continuing to tell you about the long history of where the ring had come from and what it signified.

“What do you think, Thomas,” Nicola asked. She was practically beaming at each ring you slid onto your finger. Like no matter which one you chose, none would be the wrong choice.

“It is not I that will have to wear the dreadful thing,” he replied shortly. “Therefore, I should not be the person deciding which one she chooses, though I wish you’d quicken the pace a bit.”

“Since you’ve made it clear that you have no intention on weighing in on the decision, I ask you kindly, Prince Tom, to please refrain from commenting,” you quipped. He took a step back irritably, pulling at the collar of his undershirt.

You reached into the box once more, pulling out a large European cut diamond ring. The several diamonds displayed at the golden band left you lifting your hand, staring at your ring finger absentmindedly. It was classic, yet had too many diamonds to be considered simple. A royal staple, much like the tiara you’d eventually choose to wear on your wedding day.

“This one,” you said. “This is the one.”

The Queen drifted towards you, biting back excitement as she assessed the ring. It was clearly too large and would need to be sized, yet still had the same effect. She held it up as you had done, clutching your hand and motioning towards your ladies to come and look.

“That’s absolutely darling,” Charlotte mused.

“It’s stunning,” Andrea agreed.

The Prince soon enough took his leave, slipping out of the room before Nicola could notice his absence. She looked disappointed when she looked over and was met with an empty space where he’d just stood.

“He’ll come around soon enough,” she said, this was less reassuring to you and seemed more comforting for herself.

“Do tell me about yourself, Andrea,” you murmured on, arm in arm as you both perused the large gardens.

“Well there’s not much to know, miss,” she replied swiftly.

“Please, I wish you’d call me Y/N in private company,” you laughed a bit. “I’ve never had much of a thing for titles.”

“Her Majesty would simply chastise me.”

There were blooming flowers and the grass was slowly becoming more and more green. The air was a bit brisk, the cloak draped along your shoulders thinner than you’d like. The soft breeze felt nice, though. Andrea was simple looking, pulled back brown hair and a heart-shaped face. She explained that she was one of three girls, the third daughter of an earl.

“I must admit, I do wish we’d have met under different circumstances,” you mused, plucking a lily from the shrubs.

“I’m not sure what you mean, miss,” she looked over at you a bit sideways.

“I just mean—well under the circumstance that I wasn’t being pawned off on the Prince.”

You fumbled at your skirts for a moment, pressing at the fabrics of your afternoon dress. It was ivory, beautiful, really. Though, much different from anything you’d have worn in France.

“I’m sure His Royal Highness will be as pleased as everyone else once you are both wed.”

“That’s hard to believe,” you chuckled. “He has hardly said a word to me since I arrived in London.”

She looked nervous, like she was afraid to say the wrong thing. Her cheeks flushed lightly, the glint in her eyes a bit brighter. Andrea just looked over to you and gave a soft smile, as if to say everything would be alright.

“Do you think that Prince Thomas is handsome?” You asked, curious of her opinion. You watched her cheeks redden, an awkward laugh escaping her lips.

“That is not for me to judge, miss,” she answered almost immediately.

“No—but, I just want your opinion, do you think he is handsome?” You asked once again.

She hesitated for a moment, “yes, I think the Prince is certainly very handsome.”

You thought for a moment, of his brown hair that had been swept back and so carelessly skewed about earlier in the morning. The way his freckles scattered lightly across his nose like a constellation, you’d only known this from when he’d pulled you in so closely the night before. He wore his signet ring proudly, this amongst what looked like another ring with a crest on it.

“Yes, I suppose he is quite handsome. Though, if I’ve learned anything, it is that looks count for almost nothing when you’re forced to spend everyday with a person.”

The quiet clattering of silverware sounded throughout the large room, beside you sat Prince Tom. Down the table were the two older princes, assuming the youngest, Prince Patrick, was still too young. At the head of the table was King Dominic, at his right was Queen Nicola. Occupying the rest of the table was an assortment of dukes and duchesses, earls and ladies.

It had been too late to join everyone for dinner the night before, so tonight was the first time you’d been in everyone’s company. The room was large, grand even, gold trim and deep royal red walls filled with paintings dating back centuries. Candles burned while you ate, attempting to steal a glance at the Prince while he spoke with his brother Harry.

It had taken you weeks studying the British monarchy to completely grasp their political and traditional protocol. You had to learn who to curtsy to and who not to, and then in what order, how to determine the sovereign and whether or not to address someone with a title or not to.

“Tell us, Y/N, how are you finding England?” The Queen chimed, staring at you from her seat across the table.

“Well, ma’am—I haven’t seen much of it, I do hope to see more. It is far different from France, though.”

A quiet murmur spread across the table, “I’ve always found the French quite curious,” a duchess, whom you could not recall the name of, said lowly.

“Curiously dreadful,” Tom laughed to himself in a whisper you were sure only you could hear.

“I’m sorry?” You turned towards him, the sound of your cutlery against the plate louder than you’d liked. “I thought you said something, sir.”

The King looked up at you, the scornful way in which you looked at Tom, seething at his teasing words. You felt the heat in your face spread when you noticed an almost surprised look from a majority of the long and stretching table.

The rest of dinner you kept quiet, avoiding the looks from the prince at your side. He seemed quite bothered, you put your head down and braced yourself once the King stood. Once the King finished his meal, everyone else was finished as well. He stood soundly, the paleness of his skin off-putting, the deep purple crescents underneath his eyes prominent in the candlelight.

You stood with everyone else, retiring to your chambers in a fleeting moment once it was appropriate to get away. The long, narrow halls were ages older than you, the artwork clearly showing that. You recognized past monarchs, the kings and queens of the years earlier. The twists and turns reminded you of a labyrinth, easy to get lost in.

Once you reached the double doors to your chambers, you pulled at them quickly, shutting them behind you soundly and sinking against the wall. The room was still filled with burning candles, the servant at your vanity looking at you curiously.

She curtsied quickly, motioning you off of the floor in a maternal way. You said nothing, letting her help you slip out of the evening gown and undo the tight lacing of your corset. You breathed deeply as she slipped the white nightgown over your head and took down the silver pins from your hair.

“Are you alright, miss?” She asked, the look on her face a bit concerned.

“Yes, just tired,” you excused. “I can put myself to sleep, thank you.”

“Are you sure, miss? I really do not mind,” she trailed off as you waved her away laughing stiffly.

“I am sure, thank you, Anne.”

You stared at yourself in the mirror, brushing through your hair as you sat. Anne had long left, the doors shut tightly and the guards posted at them for the night, however, you turned quickly at the sound of them creeping open.

“How thick in the head must you be?”

Prince Thomas.

“You should not be in here,” you warned. “It’s bad enough to be caught alone in the daytime without a chaperone, but at night—in my bedroom!” Your tone was sharp, your arms wrapping around yourself. His eyes scanned your bare ankles, the curve of your legs underneath the thin material.

“You need not be concerned about your virtue, not after what you decided to pull at dinner tonight, before mother and father! I mean seriously, it’s like you enjoy humiliating yourself in front of the whole family!”

His cheeks were flushed in anger, his eyes fixed on you. You hair was undone, your eyes stuck on him. The silence was deafening, the space between the both of you closing when you stood up and marched over to him.

“I have been here a day. A day! And you cannot allow me the luxury of my own chambers, parading in here like you were not the one who provoked me!” You rammed a finger into his chest, gaze not faltering as you looked up at him.

“I told mother, I told father. You are nothing but a child, a little girl with no clue what she’s getting herself into,” you flinched at his voice.

“I will be your wife—”

“You will be the Queen of England!” He shouted, “the way you acted tonight was not that of a queen, but an eighteen year old girl in way over her head.”

He grabbed the hand that had jabbed into his chest, skewing it to the side. “Do not forget yourself, Y/N. I can promise you this, if you cannot at least act like you have any idea what you’re doing, this engagement is off. I will not tarnish the name of my country, nor title or reputation for a French princess that I had no desire to wed in the first place.”

taglist- @justapurrcat @witchyartemis @keithseabrook27 @clara-licht @dummiesshort @username2002 @imaginationisgrowth @nova-sup3r @jeyramarie @the-avengers-assembling @veryholland

#tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagines #prince!tom #prince!tom x reader #peter parker imagines #peter parker x reader #tom holland

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dothwrites · 4 years

Text

15.20 coda--at the end of the world

author’s note: while i am still reeling from the finale, this was my way of making some kind of personal peace with it. don’t mistake this for me agreeing with the choices made <3

---

“I would know him in death, at the end of the world.”--Madeline Miller

---

Castiel opens his eyes.

All around him is green. A moment later, he hears the soft sound of birds chirping in the background; from further away, the faint sounds of children laughing. The air is ripe with the smell of growth, damp in the air and life underneath his fingers.

He sits up. The sky is a perfect shade of blue, the kind found only in poet’s and painters imaginations. A few feet away, the shrubs grow, flowers spilling over themselves in their enthusiasm to be born. Everything is a riot of life and color.

“Cas.”

Castiel’s heart thumps against his ribs. He knows that voice.

He whirls around, already knowing who he’ll find. Several feet away, Jack waits, one hand raised in a short wave.

Castiel finds himself up on his feet, and within two short steps, he’s enfolded Jack in his arms. For a moment, he forgets about everything which came before, and allows himself this sheer comfort. If nothing else remains, then Jack is here.

Jack hugs him back, twice as fiercely, before they separate. Castiel holds him at arm’s length, trying to find injuries or hurt on him, but there’s nothing. In fact, it’s almost as if...

“Jack,” he says slowly, his arm falling away from Jack’s shoulder, “what happened?”

Jack smiles, a little lopsided, but still his boy.

“Well,” he says, gesturing towards a bench, “It’s kind of a long story.

---

For all that Jack said it was a long story, it ends up being remarkably quick in the telling. Castiel listens, sometimes grieving and sometimes proud, as he hears of how Sam, Dean, and Jack ultimately defeated Chuck. His heart grows in his chest as Jack recounts Dean’s words.

That’s not who I am.

A small part of him wishes that he could be there to see it, but he tucks that part of himself away. He said his piece. He relieved the burden which has been pressing down on his shoulders now for years. In his lifetime, it was nothing more than a blip on the map, but those years have made all the difference in the world to him. Finally, he can look back on them now without regrets.

“And so, I came here,” Jack finally says, shifting a little on the bench. He looks oddly guilty, like the times Castiel would find him sneaking snacks back into his room. “I thought...”

“What?’ Castiel prompts, after a few moments when it becomes clear that Jack has no interest in speaking.

“Sam and Dean don’t really need me anymore. I mean, I know that they want me, but the world is bigger now. And the people up here need me too.”

It’s then that Castiel looks around, scrutinizing his environment more closely. The nagging sense of familiarity hits and then he wonders how he didn’t see it before. His favorite Heaven, caught in an eternal Tuesday afternoon.

“It’s not right,” Jack says, his forehead wrinkled into an earnest expression of worry. “The people here are stuck. While I was on earth, we all talked about free will, but the people here don’t have it. They’re stuck forever in an endless loop of memories, and it’s all just...empty.”

Jack looks at Castiel, and Castiel doesn’t see God. He doesn’t see a divine being, or Lucifer’s son, or even an angelic being. He just sees his boy, lost and confused, but still so pure, still wanting to do the right thing, no matter what.

“Cas?” Jack asks. “Will you help me?”

---

Rebuilding Heaven is slow work, but time doesn’t really mean anything here. It’s delicate to rebuild the walls separating billions of souls so that nothing collapses. Castiel works alongside Jack, making suggestions as his mind trips along to potential problems.

Though it’s never said aloud, Castiel knows why Jack is working tirelessly. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, the knowledge sits that Sam and Dean are going to die. One day, they will pass from the earth, and come to Heaven, and on that day, Castiel wants everything to be perfect for them. He wants to show them a true paradise, a place without walls or barriers, a place where emotion is genuine and not just a manufactured memory. Rebuilding Heaven is his last chore, the last of his penance to be performed.

He does make one stop, however.

When he walks in the door, Kelly’s head lifts up from the book she’s flipping through. Her smile is a balm to the hurt places inside him, the ones that he likes to pretend don’t exist, because he was happy, yes? That was the whole point of everything, was to be happy. “Hey, Cas,” she greets him, shifting over and patting the couch next to her. “I was wondering when you’d be by.”

“I’ve been busy,” Cas says, settling down on the cushions. In Heaven, his body is easier than it was on earth, more flexible, and he wonders if that’s because after all these years, he’s finally returned to where he was supposed to belong, or if it’s because he no longer has the shadow of his love pressing down on his shoulders.

“Jack told me. Rebuilding Heaven? Sounds ambitious.”

“The old Heaven was...not ideal,” Castiel says. “I thought it was at the beginning: each soul gets a paradise tailor made to them. But then, I realized that human life is meaningless without the connections we form along the way. Each soul, stuck forever in its own loop is...”

“It’s lonely,” Kelly says, reaching out and squeezing his hand. Castiel returns the gesture, grateful for the connection. Her eyes are kind as she moves closer to him, her shoulder pressing into his.

“So what happened?”

---

In their time together, Castiel never told Kelly about Dean, at least not explicitly. But she had a brilliant mind and was able to see the threads of his longing woven into everything he did. Relating the story to her comes easily, and he tells her things which he would never tell Jack.

“And I was happy,” Castiel says at the end. “I was.”

“You trying to convince me or yourself?”

“Neither,” Castiel replies, bristling slightly. It was true that he might have been happier--he had performed a willful obfuscation of the original terms--but that doesn’t negate what he felt in that moment. The sheer love, the overwhelming gratitude, the incandescent happiness of being able, one last time, to proclaim to the world Dean Winchester is Saved.

Everything else is unimportant when viewed through those lenses.

“Why haven’t you gone to see him?” Kelly was always good at cutting to the heart of the problem.

“Dean has his life on earth. I have my work here in Heaven. I don’t...” Because, of course, he’s asked himself the same question many times. Why doesn’t he go find Dean and tell him of one last, improbable miracle?

“Cas, let me tell you: I didn’t know Dean all that well, but I didn’t need to if I wanted to know how he felt about you. It was all over his face.” Kelly turns to face him, suddenly serious. “Cas, you should go to him. At least allow him to speak his side. If he doesn’t feel the same way, then you’ll know. And if he does...”

Castiel shakes his head. Happiness in the being is what he’s told himself ever since he awoke to find himself in Heaven. Happiness doesn’t come from the having. He will live with himself and find contentment in the works which he does.

Kelly looks sympathetic, but doesn’t say anything as he walks out.

There’s work to be done.

---

Castiel sighs with satisfaction as he walks through Heaven. Slowly, the walls are coming down. Souls are mingling and interacting. There’s joy in the once quiet halls, the giddiness which comes from freedom after too long without. He moves through the different realms, silent as a thought, and goes unnoticed, at least until a gruff voice catches his attention.

“What the hell are you doing here, boy?”

A wide grin splits Castiel’s face. Only Bobby Singer would think to call an angel ‘boy’. He walks towards the old hunter, who looks the same now as he did in life, and is surprised when Bobby sweeps him up in a hug which would threaten to crack his ribs, were he human.

“You did good,” Bobby whispers, his voice thick in Castiel’s ear. “I heard what you and that boy Jack did, and you did real good.”

It means more than he would have thought, to have Bobby’s approval. After a moment’s pause, he hugs Bobby back.

When Bobby pulls away, he quickly knuckles his eyes, before clearing his throat. “So, you fixed Heaven on top of everything else? What do you have planned next?”

Castiel’s shoulders lift in a shrug. “There’s always work to be done maintaining Heaven. We don’t know what, if any, effects the restructuring will bring, so I suppose I will be traveling and making sure that everything is stable.”

“If that ain’t a load of shit,” Bobby scoffs. “From what I’ve seen, your boy has enough power in his pinky finger to do just about whatever he wants. Stop making excuses and get your feathery ass back down there.”

Castiel swallows. “It’s not quite as simple as that. Sam and Dean have a chance to live their lives, the way that they would wish for them to be lived. It’s not fair of me to intrude.”

“Now, if that isn’t the biggest pile of horseshit I’ve ever heard.” Bobby’s mouth twists underneath his beard. “Only one thing keeping you from going back down to see those boys, and it sure as hell ain’t concern for Heaven or some BS notion that they’re better off without you.” Castiel opens his mouth, but Bobby speaks over him. “And don’t tell me that you’re just waiting either. Something I learned a long time ago--you never have as much time as you think you do.”

Castiel closes his mouth and says nothing.

---

Bobby is wrong.

There’s still time. He doesn’t have to go yet. There’s still work to be done in Heaven, souls to be guided, walls to be broken. Jack still needs him.

There’s still time.

There’s still time, until there isn’t.

---

Castiel feels it before he knows what’s happening. It’s a rift, a tear, something which ripples throughout the universe and comes to hit him in the chest. He staggers backward, hand clutching at his shirt.

His first thought is that Heaven is under attack, but a second’s observation tells him that’s not the case. Everything is fine. The fabric of Heaven remains secure, the souls are unbothered. It’s only him that feels the blow.

With a flutter of wings, Jack appears beside him. His face is a mask of distress, tears welling in his eyes. “Cas,” he cries, clenching his hands into fists at his side. “Cas, it’s--”

“Dean,” Castiel says, finally understanding the bolt of pain which ripped through him.

It was too soon. He doesn’t know how much time has passed on earth, but he knows it was too soon.

It’s always too soon.

“Cas, what do I... I can heal him. I can go and heal him now. I can save him. I can...” Jack trails off, his feet still pacing in desperate circles. “What do I do?”

It’s a child’s question, and Castiel has no answer.

“Free will,” is all he says. “Whatever you do...It’s your decision.”

---

Castiel feels when Dean Winchester’s soul enters Heaven. He held that soul within his grace, he snatched it away from the filth and flames of Hell. He cradled that soul while he was reassembling Dean’s body, pulling atoms out of air to create skin, flesh, and bone. He would know that soul at the end of everything, and he knows it here, when it settles into the place which was created for him.

It was as perfect as Castiel could make it; down to the Impala sitting in the Roadhouse’s parking lot. He created every inch of Dean’s Heaven in homage, in apology.

It wasn’t fair. Dean deserved to live to a ripe old age. He deserved to enjoy the world for which he fought so hard. He should have grown old, should have found peace, should have discovered the foibles and pitfalls of normal, human existence. Dean worked too hard, for too long, and he deserved a kinder, softer fate. Instead, he’s here, and all Castiel can do for him is to craft his Heaven with painstaking care.

He pauses on the boundaries of Dean’s Heaven. Every fiber of him yearns to go forward, to rejoice in Dean’s presence, to see that beloved face again. He wants it so badly he can almost taste it, leather and gasoline and whiskey mingling together until he’s back in the bunker, listening to the sounds of his family--

Castiel takes a step away from the border. First one, then another. After three steps, it becomes easier.

Dean has his paradise, and Castiel won’t interfere.

---

Heaven moves as it always does, timeless and changeless. There is no turn of the earth to mark the passage of time. Instead, it moves like the ocean, rolling waves which are always moving and yet the surface remains the same. Castiel travels through various Heavens, observing the newly liberated souls, and taking his peace from their newfound enjoyment. It eases something within him to see his former home restored, better than it ever was before.

He’s inspecting a field of sunflowers when the sound of a car door closing surprises him. Immediately, his heart lurches in his chest, dipping down to somewhere around his knees before hurtling upwards to lodge in his throat. He swallows before he turns around.

Dean Winchester is there.

Castiel’s heart, always out of his control, performs a quick dance against the confines of his ribs. Dean looks...He looks whole and wonderful, vibrant and alive. The lines around his eyes look as though they’ve been carved through laughter instead of despair. His shoulders sit easier, no longer pressed down with the burden of the entire world.

Castiel licks his lips. “Hello, Dean,” he finally says, when it becomes obvious that Dean has no intention of making the first move.

Dean’s lips quirk up in a grin. “Cas,” he says, not moving from where he’s leaning up against the frame of the Impala. “You’re a hard guy to track down.”

Layers upon layers of subtext are placed within the seemingly simple sentence. Castiel remembers Purgatory as well as anything else, the desperate year of keeping one step ahead of Leviathans while close enough to Dean to protect him if need be.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel says faintly. “I wasn’t aware anyone was looking.”

Dean’s face performs a series of interesting maneuvers, dropping and rising and twisting. It finally settles into an expression like stone as he pushes off the car and storms towards him. Castiel waits, caught up in breathless anticipation of the oncoming storm.

“Look,” Dean growls, reaching out and snagging the lapel of his coat, almost like he wants to ensure that Castiel doesn’t escape. Castiel doesn’t even dream of it; there’s no other place he’d rather be than caught in Dean’s grip. “There was a lot of shit going on at the time, so I didn’t get to say it then, but there’s nothing happening now, so you are going to sit here and listen, all right?”

Castiel nods, but Dean doesn’t seem to notice. “I can’t believe you didn’t...” He runs the hand which isn’t still wrapped up in Castiel’s coat over his face. “You idiot,” he finally breathes. “A couple of dumbasses. You’ve had me, Cas. All along, you’ve had me.”

Castiel looks up at Dean in sharp surprise. When he meets Dean’s eyes, there’s nothing but the infinite compassion which he fell in love with. “You... You’re this force of nature that came bursting into my life. All this time, you’ve always been there, always helping, and I took that for granted, I know I did. But, god, Cas, I should have told you every day how thankful I was to have you there with us. I should have let you know what a miracle you are. You never gave up on me, not once, not even when I deserved it.”

Castiel’s breath hitches in his chest as Dean lets go of his coat. Slowly, with a shaking hand, he reaches up to cup Castiel’s cheek. “You never stopped believing. You never stopped trying. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“Dean.” The name bursts out of Castiel’s chest in a harsh breath. Dean’s words are working their way underneath his skin, to the point where his body can’t contain them.

“Cas.” Dean gently angles his face up so that there’s no escape when he says, “I love you.”

“I’m sorry,” explodes from Castiel’s chest, the helplessness and grief he felt when he felt Dean’s soul leaving earth erupting in a single quick sob. “Dean, I’m so sorry, I should have been there, I should have done something, I never should have left you alone--”

“Cas.” Dean’s fingers press into his cheek, not hard, but firmly enough to get his attention. “It sucks, all right? There was so much I wanted...” The corner of his mouth drops. “I was going to get you out, and you, me, and Sam were going to head to the beach. I was going to get you drinking out of a coconut, maybe a Hawaiian shirt. We were going to do Christmas, I was going to take you to a theme park and see if you puked on roller coasters. I wanted...” For a moment, grief so overwhelming that it can’t be touched crosses Dean’s face, but then, with effort, he pushes it away. “There’s so much that I wanted, but it’s done now. And besides, you’ve been busy.” Dean raises his eyebrows. The grin on his face invites Cas to smile as well. “Reforming Heaven?”

“I wanted...There was so much I did wrong here. I thought if I could make it right, that maybe...” Castiel leans his cheek into Dean’s hand. “I wanted it to be perfect for you. You weren’t supposed to be here yet.”

“I know. I know. And it’s not okay, but you’re here, all right? Mom’s here, Bobby’s here, Charlie, and Jess, and Kevin, and Ellen and Jo...They’re all here, and thanks to you, I’m going to see them. You did that, Cas.”

“Jack did most of the work--” Castiel begins, but he’s cut off by the soft press of Dean’s lips against his.

Sparks burst in his chest as Dean’s hand slides around to the back of his neck to cradle his head. His other arm slides around his waist, and suddenly, Castiel is held by Dean Winchester, by this miracle of a man. Dean’s kisses consume him, until he’s no longer Castiel. Instead, he’s heat, and friction, and more.

“You and me,” Dean pants against his lips, pulling away just far enough to run his nose along Castiel’s. “We’ve got time now, Cas, we’ve got so much time. I’m going to take you apart, going to show you how much I love you, every single day. I’m going to show you everything.”

Castiel is drowning in the outpouring of Dean’s devotion. He’s helpless in the riptides. All he can do to save himself is kiss Dean again, tasting salt on their lips from where their tears trace down to their lips. Castiel cries partly for Dean’s missed opportunities and the fact that life is so cruel. But he also cries from happiness. Dean is right. Here, they have all the time they could ever want. There’s time to explore every feeling and desire, time for them to become themselves, without the pressure of the world around them.

They part. Somehow, Castiel’s hands have found their way onto Dean’s waist. One of his thumbs is braver than the rest of his whole body, as it sneaks underneath Dean’s shirt to touch bare skin. Dean grins at him.

“Hey, Cas,” he asks, pressing his forehead to Castiel’s. “Do you want to take a drive?”

Their fingers entwine as they walk towards the Impala. Castiel’s chest feels light, like Dean’s hand is the only thing keeping him tethered to the ground. “I’m still trying to figure out the roads here. It felt like I was driving around for forty years to try and find you.”

They settle into the Impala, where they’ve been so many times before, but now Castiel can enjoy every squeak of the leather seats. He can revel in the imperfections of the car because of the perfection that’s next to him. Dean Winchester reaches across the seat and takes his hand, as easy as breathing.

“I can’t wait to show Sam everything,” Dean says, as he guides the Impala back onto a road which Castiel is almost certain wasn’t there when he arrived. “I, uh...Hope it takes him a while to get here. But. Yeah, when he gets here, I can’t wait to show him everything.”

“We’ll see it all together,” Castiel finally says. It’s all he can say, his heart too busy dancing in his chest.

They have all the time they want.

---

Time slips and passes and stops. In between his time with Dean, Jack, and the rest of the residents of Heaven, and performing maintenance throughout Heaven, Castiel watches the earth. He sees those left behind grow older. Claire and Kaia start a family, Claire finally having set aside the kernel of anger in her heart. Castiel watches Sam and Eileen’s family grow, smiling when Sam finally goes back to law school and gets his degree. He spends the rest of his career fighting for justice for children lost in the system, those who can’t fight for themselves. Saving people, hunting things, indeed.

Several times, Castiel thinks about going to visit Sam, if only to assuage the grief he can still see the man carrying, but each time he stops. It hurts, but grief is a facet of life. This grief is natural. It comes honestly. It’s not manipulated by a sadistic higher being for a voyeristic pleasure.

Eileen comes out to the Impala and brings Sam back into the house with gentle touches. Throughout the years, she’s learned how to navigate Sam’s moods, and knows how to bring him back. They lay in bed, foreheads pressed together, Eileen’s body curved into Sam’s.

“I just,” Sam begins, twisting slightly so Eileen can read his lips, “I just miss him so much sometimes.”

“I know,” Eileen answers. It’s all she needs to say.

After a while, Sam gently wraps his fingers around Eileen’s wrist, partly for comfort, partly to grab her attention. “Dean’s baseball game is next weekend. Do we know yet if it’s going to conflict with Beth’s dance rehearsal?”

“It shouldn’t,” Eileen answers, and with that, the normal routine of their life is reestablished. The grief is always present, but it’s part of the human condition.

Castiel turns his eyes back to Heaven, where Dean waits for him. Despite it being Heaven, he insists on making repairs to Bobby’s house as well as the Roadhouse, even when Castiel reminds him, for the hundredth time, that if he truly wanted to, he could fix these imperfections with a thought.

“Sometimes, you just have to do things the hard way,” he answers, through a mouthful of nails.

Castiel rolls his eyes and goes to help him.

---

The morning dawns, quiet and gentle. The dawn is silvery-gold as it stretches across the grass leading up to the cabin. In the distance, the birds start singing. Castiel can smell the fresh scents of spring, dew clinging to the grass, the clean, bright potential in the air. His toes stick out from underneath the comforter, but a quick flip of his foot flicks the corner of the blanket back into place.

A warm, heavy arm winds over his waist. “Babe, it’s too early,” Dean mumbles into the nape of his neck. “Go back to sleep.”

Castiel strokes over the back of Dean’s hand. The words are tempting, but something has woken him up, and now that it has, he wants to know what it is. He props himself up on his elbows, ignoring the chill of the air as it bites at his bare skin, and concentrates. After a second, he startles.

“Dean,” he says.

Though he doesn’t put urgency or fear into his voice, something about his tone makes Dean open his eyes, suddenly alert. Castiel looks at him, and Dean rolls over onto his side. After their time together, they’ve mastered the art of the wordless conversation, much to the chagrin of Charlie, Kevin, and anyone within ten miles of them, at least according to Jo.

“It’s time?” Dean asks. He rolls closer to Castiel, stealing his warmth, as he trails his fingers over Castiel’s ribs.

“Yes,” Castiel answers, taking Dean’s hand in his and pressing kisses to each of Dean’s fingertips. “Won’t be long now.”

Dean’s fingers slide across his cheek before he curls his fingers around the bolt of Castiel’s jaw, pulling him down. Their lips meet in a chaste kiss which still manages to make fireworks explode in the pit of Castiel’s belly. He doesn’t think the thrill of kissing Dean will ever fade. Castiel doesn’t want it to.

“I should get going,” Dean murmurs, rubbing against the bristles on Castiel’s cheek. “You want to come along?”

Castiel relaxes back into the mattress, only reluctantly parting from Dean. “No, you go. I’ll be here when you get back.”

“I know.” Dean slides out of bed, and Castiel takes a moment to appreciate the play of his muscles underneath fair skin. He lets out a small, disappointed noise when Dean slides into a pair of jeans and a jacket, causing Dean to roll his eyes at him over his shoulders. “Yeah, keep it in your pants. Definitely wearing clothes to this particular meeting.”

“Shame,” Castiel murmurs, waggling his eyebrows.

“Shameless,” Dean corrects, leaning over the mattress to kiss Castiel once more, short and sweet. “We’ll be back before too long.” Another kiss to Castiel’s forehead, and then Dean murmurs, “I love you,” into his hair.

Castiel smiles. Much like kissing Dean, hearing those words will never grow old to him. He’ll revel in them, roll in the simple syllables, allow them to sink into him, with the simple truth that Jack tells him, that Charlie tells him, that Kelly tells him, that even Bobby and Ellen and Jo tell him.

You are valued. You are loved.

He smiles at Dean Winchester, this impossible, miracle of a man. “I love you too,” he replies.

Dean out of the bedroom. The door to the cabin opens and closes. Castiel rolls over onto his back and stretches, staring up at the ceiling.

There’s work to be done today. He’ll need to travel through Heaven, informing the various interested parties that Sam Winchester has arrived. There will be a party tonight at the Roadhouse, a celebration instead of mourning. Then he and Dean will get to show Sam their Heaven, will listen to Sam relate through his years.

There is so much work to do.

But they have time. They have all the time they need.

---

“Life never ends when you are in it.”--Lemony Snicket, The Beatrice Letters

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storytellerofuntoldlegends · 3 years

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an icarus and his sun: chapter 8

A/N: hello i have returned!! this chapter was weirdly difficult for me to write, but from here on out i think the writing will go much smoother! but unfortunately i do have classes to be worrying about soon, so who knows how much time i will have to write. but still!! very excited about this fic and how you guys will react to upcoming events >:) (plus i added some implied nature wives (katherine and shelby) to this bit so this fic is basically turning into me making empires smp gayer) also check out this stunning art of chapter 5 by @artanogon! and if you wanna make art of this fic, you absolutely can, just be sure to tag me so i can see it!

Warnings: depression of the heartbreak variety, past violence

AO3 Link - Tumblr Masterpost

Jimmy was trying his hardest to not be mopey as he helped Katherine with rebuilding. He knew that he had promised that he would help her- but his own confusing feelings about Scott, his lack of building know-how, and the dejected look Katherine had as she looked at the slight crater where her castle used to be had Jimmy feeling far out of his league. But he put on a brave face- he needed the distraction, after all.

They began with filling in the crater, mostly silent as they moved dirt over with their shovels. Then once the ground was level, they could begin with setting up the framework of the castle. They spoke more to each other then- but it was mostly Katherine telling Jimmy where to put the support beams. Jimmy wanted to say something, anything to break the tension and melancholy air- but he couldn’t think of a single thing to say to Katherine that didn’t lead back to the tragedies they had experienced. Jimmy wished that Joel or Lizzie were there- but they were off gathering more materials for Katherine’s castle, and probably wouldn’t return until nightfall. So until then, it was just Jimmy and Katherine, silently stewing in their respective sadnesses.

Luckily- or maybe unluckily- someone much more chipper than either of them came along. Jimmy almost didn’t recognize her at first- but quickly realized that the figure approaching them was the mushroom gnome queen, Shrub. Or Shelby-she had said they could call her that too. She was dressed far more casually than she had been at the ball, a polka-dotted red kerchief tied over her head, brown overalls over a green shirt, and red boots with white polka dots. She had a bag slung over her shoulder, and Jimmy could see the tops of mushrooms peeking out of it.

“Um- hello! I- I wanted to offer some gifts from the Undergrove, maybe they could help with rebuilding! Or they could just look pretty- or just be a peace offering- or a gift of sympathy for what happened,” Shelby rambled, seeming just as skittish as she had at the ball, but was less afraid and more excited. Katherine set down the beam she was holding, and gave Shelby a small smile.

“The gift is much appreciated, thank you. It was nice of you to stop by- I apologize for the appearance of the Overgrown. Usually it’s prettier here,” Katherine said, looking over her lands for a brief moment before focusing back on Shelby.

“Oh! Well, what I saw of it at the ball, your empire is lovely! I’m sure it will be back to its former glory soon… if you’d like, I can help! I’m good with plants and I’m not a bad builder!” Shelby offered with an encouraging smile. Katherine practically glowed at the praise of her empire, and smiled back.

“I’d love to have your help- it’s just been me and Jimmy working all day, and most of our time was spent filling in the crater. Some extra hands would definitely help things go faster,” Katherine replied, gesturing at the land around her. Shelby beamed back at her, setting down her bag of mushrooms.

“Then I’m more than happy to help! We gnomes are small but mighty, just tell me where to lug these beams around and I’ll do it!” she chirped. Katherine blinked in slight surprise at her eagerness, but looked over to the stack of beams beside them.

“Well, there is one that needs to go across those two over here for the entrance. If you’re as strong as you say, then maybe you can help Jimmy with getting it up there- I’ll set some scaffolding up so you guys can reach it,” Katherine explained, going over to where two beams were upright and doing just that. Jimmy watched her set up the scaffolding for a moment, until he felt a pair of eyes on him. He turned and looked down to Shelby, who quickly looked away once she realized she had been caught staring.

“Is everything okay? You seem jumpy,” he asked, brows furrowed in confusion. Shelby chuckled nervously.

“Oh. Well- you see, gnomes can’t swim. And I’m kind of afraid of the water and water related things because of it. But you and the ocean lady seem like really nice people! So… sorry for being jumpy. It’s a habit,” she admitted sheepishly. Jimmy let out a good-natured laugh.

“I mean you’re right to be spooked by Lizzie, she can be scary when she wants to be- but most of the time she’s very nice! And trust me, there is not a single threatening thing about me,” Jimmy said, tone turning a bit rueful at the end of his statement. Shelby frowned.

“The guy with the goggles and his friend sure seemed to think otherwise, why else would they bother you like that?” she asked. Jimmy blinked in surprise at that.

“You… you think Fwhip and Sausage are afraid of me?” he asked in disbelief.

“Well… not afraid, but definitely threatened. I’ve seen it before, back where I came from. You’re someone who won’t bow to people easily, and people like them don’t like that,” Shelby explained with a shrug. Jimmy considered this for a moment.

“Huh. I guess… I never saw it like that before,” Jimmy said, a small smile coming to his face.

Their conversation was ended by Katherine waving them over, and Jimmy and Shelby picked up one of the beams to carry over to where the scaffolding had been set up. Shelby was surprisingly strong for her stature, and carrying around the beams and placing them where they needed to be was much easier than before she had arrived. It was less quiet with Shelby around too, as she cheerfully asked questions about their empires, as well as sharing some things about her own empire. But then there was one question that caused Jimmy’s blood to freeze in his veins.

“So you said that Joel and Lizzie were getting more building materials, but what about your partner? Is he with them too?” Shelby asked, and for a moment, Jimmy was confused.

“My… what?” he asked.

“The elf guy you were dancing with at the ball! You’re very cute together, by the way,” Shelby continued, completely oblivious to the tension in the air her statement created. However she soon noticed Jimmy’s pained expression, and it was her curious smile changed to a concerned frown.

“We uh. We were never together. And he betrayed us,” Jimmy said stiffly.

“Oh- oh I’m so sorry. You guys had just looked so happy together, I had just assumed- I’m sorry,” Shelby rambled, and Jimmy gave her a weak smile.

“It’s alright. I guess I was kinda happy- but it was never real. Not for him, at least,” Jimmy replied, throat feeling tight. He hadn’t really meant to burden all of his issues onto Shelby, but his mouth was moving a little faster than his brain was at the moment, and he couldn’t hold back his words.

“Well- well then that guy is missing out! You seem great, and he gave you up for what, tactical gain or political advantage or something?! He doesn’t deserve you!” Shelby declared, hands on her hips as she smiled up at Jimmy confidently. If someone he barely knew had so much confidence in him, then why shouldn’t he? Jimmy smiled back at Shelby.

“Maybe you’re right,” he conceded. Shelby gave him a half laugh, half playful scoff.

“Of course I’m right! Now c’mon, this castle isn’t gonna rebuild itself!” she chirped, heading over to the stack of beams. Jimmy could only stare after her for a moment, dumbfounded. Katherine seemed just as amazed by the gnome’s boundless positivity, a smile growing across her face.

“She’s spirited,” Katherine murmured. Jimmy chuckled.

“Yeah, you two are like birds of a feather,” Jimmy murmured back.

"We both are definitely nature-oriented," Katherine added with a chuckle. She looked at Shelby fondly for a moment, until her expression turned into a frown as she noticed something in the sky. Subconsciously her hand started reaching for Jimmy’s, and he took it as he looked up to the sky with her. Two figures were flying in- and the tension in Jimmy’s shoulders relaxed ever-so-slightly when he recognized them as Pearl and Gem. But he still gave Katherine’s hand a gentle squeeze all the same.

“What’s going on? Are we under attack again?!” Shelby asked anxiously, coming over to stand beside them and look up at Pearl and Gem flying in.

“Don’t know yet- they weren’t directly behind the explosion… but they are allied with the people who were,” Katherine said apprehensively. Shelby looked down from the sky, frowning in concern- and upon noticing Jimmy and Katherine’s joined hands, she grabbed Katherine’s other hand with a comforting smile. Katherine flushed slightly, but smiled back at Shelby gratefully.

“Please don’t be alarmed!” Gem shouted as she came in for a landing. Frankly, that didn’t make Jimmy feel any less alarmed.

“We aren’t allied with Fwhip and Sausage anymore. We don’t want any part of what they’re up to,” Pearl clarified, landing beside Gem.

“Really?” Jimmy asked warily. Gem looked to Jimmy with an open, pleading expression.

“I meant what I said when we told you that we didn’t know what Fwhip was up to. He left myself and Pearl completely in the dark, while Sausage and Scott were the only ones who knew about the full plan. But even then, I don’t think those two had the full picture, they looked surprised that we hadn’t known about the TNT. The point is- Pearl and I were tired of being part of an alliance that lied to us, and lied to us to hurt others! Katherine- if I had known what was going to happen, I would have never gone along with it and would have tried to put a stop to it,” Gem explained, turning her focus to Katherine as she spoke.

“So… you two are… on our side then?” Katherine asked slowly. Pearl gave her a gentle smile.

“If you’ll have us, yes. We also figured you could use our help rebuilding,” Pearl replied. Katherine looked to Jimmy, as if she was asking for his opinion. Jimmy blinked, and looked at Pearl and Gem. They seemed… candid, at least. But after Scott… Jimmy wasn’t sure who he could trust anymore besides his steady allies. However, they weren’t Scott. And furthermore, it really wasn’t his call to make. It was Katherine’s.

“It’s your empire, Katherine. If you don’t want them here, then just say the word. But you won’t get a fight from me if you do want them to help,” Jimmy said gently. Katherine smiled, and looked back to Pearl and Gem.

“I would absolutely appreciate your help. We’ve almost got all the framework for the castle set up- but having someone with wings help us out with some of the taller parts would be lovely,” Katherine said. Pearl beamed, and Gem clapped her hands excitedly. Gem came closer and Katherine let go of Shelby and Jimmy’s hands to talk over building plans with Gem, Shelby following after her and listening as well. Pearl, however, walked over to Jimmy with a mildly timid expression.

“Pearl?” Jimmy asked.

“There’s something I think you should know,” she blurted. Jimmy blinked in surprise, tilting his head to one side in confusion.

“I… okay,” Jimmy said semi-apprehensively. Pearl took a deep breath, like she was unsure of how to continue.

“Gem and I just came from a meeting with the Wither Rose Alliance. Well… it wasn’t much of a meeting, Gem and I broke off ties with the alliance pretty quickly and then left. But… there’s a… there’s something about Scott,” Pearl explained slowly. Jimmy tensed, swallowing nervously.

“Oh?” Jimmy asked, trying to keep his tone neutral.

“Like I said, Gem and I didn’t stay long so I don’t know for sure- but there was something off about Scott. He just… didn’t seem himself. I think he was just as unhappy with Fwhip as we were with him. I… I just know he meant a lot to you. And I think you meant a lot to him too. I just… I don’t want to get your hopes up, but maybe… maybe you should give him a chance,” Pearl continued. Jimmy’s mouth fixed into a firm line.

“It’s a nice thought… but I don’t think I can trust him anymore. Not after everything that happened,” Jimmy said, throat tight as he tried not to cry. Part of him really wanted to hope that maybe there was some sort of misunderstanding, that Scott really did care about him- but Jimmy couldn’t afford that kind of hope. Pearl nodded in understanding.

“That’s fair. Like I said… just thought you should know,” she said, before walking over to join Katherine in her discussion for the build. Then Jimmy- only feeling ever so slightly useless now that Katherine had so much more help- swallowed the tears that thinking about Scott caused, and joined them.

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#empires smp #jimmy solidarity #katherine elizabeth #shubble #pearlescentmoon #geminitay #flower husbands #nature wives #mcyt #aiahs #sage writes

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bloodycassian · 3 years

Text

** PT 2 Azriel x reader - enemies to acquaintances PT 2. ** - reader gets a backstory, they clear another enemy camp together and bond more. Azriel apologizes.

Slight TW for violence/domestic abuse mention. Trying to keep reader as genderless as possible but sometimes I inherently switch to using woman POVs- asks still very open ;)

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

"It seems I owe you an apology." Rhys began, pacing at the end of the makeshift bed the healers had set up for you. Your stomach rolled with nerves. His tone was not genuine, and you could feel the tension rolling off him in waves. The healers buzzing nearby suddenly found different things to do.

Azriel and Cassian stood at the edge of the canopy, the drizzle of rain making their armor shine. "Azriel informed me of your injury- I'm impressed with your bravery." He smiled, his dark eyes making him look like a snake.

You glanced to the shadowmaster, who nodded the slightest amount. "Did you receive my message from him?" You asked, and when he had a genuine wide grin - showing almost too many teeth - it gave you chills.

"I did in fact. I wish the same to you." He said with that deadly calm. Cassian tried to hide his laugh, Azriel remained stonefaced. "Let's take this to the war tent. Whenever you are...suitable." he glanced to your wing, still stained with crusted dry blood.

You felt your cheeks heat slightly, and nodded. He strode out from the healers canopy and into the rain without a look back. The generals followed him, Azriel glancing back to you only for a second.

Once you had mustered the strength to get out of the cot, you thanked your healers. They insisted on giving you healing potions before you departed. And tried to get you to promise to come back for a check in daily. Mobility tests, stretches and strength building. You gave them loose affirmations and took the potions without putting up too much of a fight, given that the wing still ached slightly. Two days of rest had done a lot for the healing process, but it would take at least a week before it was fully healed.

The short walk to the war tent was cold as the mist of rain poured down. Many of the soldiers were inside or drunkenly asleep in the mud. Sitting around and waiting was not an ideal situation with a thousand males ready to fight all around.

You pushed open the tent, shaking out your jacket on the pelt rug. Earning a scowl from the high lord, seated at the head of the table again. "This one tells me you were a sight to see in the skirmish." He said, gesturing to the shadow master.

You glanced to Azriel, his face was blank but his cheeks had gone a duskier shade of brown. "But maybe I took that the wrong way, and what he meant was that you were a disaster, considering someone managed to put a hole in to your wing." He laced his fingers together in front of him. You curled your lip at him, ready to tell him to get his ass out there and do it himself then.

Before you could, Azriel turned to the high lord, opening his mouth to protest but he was quickly silenced by Rhysand's dagger like eyes. The shadowmaster pressed his full lips together tightly. Looked to his feet, as if in shame. It made your head thrum with adrenaline filled rage. Rhysand - the most powerful high lord in history - coudlnt get off his ass to take care of some second class Attors himself? Perfect. Just your luck. Being hired out like the hundreds of your kind before you, only it was worse because you weren’t even getting any gold from it.

"We now have a bigger force than originally planned coming directly at us." He said softly, a dark wind organizing enemy pawns on the table to show where they spread out. how they had your forces stuck against a wall of mountains.

"Because you were brave enough to somehow miss the group of Attors flying away..." He glared those snake eyes at Azriel again, then Rhys let out a bitter laugh. He was upset, understandably so. You could admit that. But it wasn't your fault he decided not to believe you in the first place.

You glanced to Azriel. His face was grave as his high lord tore into both of you with a tone of a disappointed parent. Like your parent. The thought of your father made your jaw clench, your teeth grind together as you fought to not begin screaming at Rhysand.

"The two of you will see to it that this is taken care of." He took a breath, gesturing to the pawns on the table. "There is a ravine to the west of here-" His dark gifts had the pawns lifting in the air. A fist of fear clenched your stomach. You had forgotten just HOW powerful he was.

"If you cut off the bridges their advancement will be paralyzed. We then may be able to regroup and massacre our way through this group here-" He pointed to the north, a smaller force lay there. Without the flanking force able to be a threat behind you it would work. Your strategist mind flushed out the plan.

"I expect you both to fix this - as you both caused this issue. I want it done before dawn comes." The pawns he held in the air turned to dust on the table, making a neat pile before the dark lines that indicated the ravine. Hitting his point home, in a non subtle way you supposed. Arrogant cock of a high lord.

"It will work, Rhys." Cassian said softly. He glanced to Azriel. His eyes were pinned to your wing. Your stomach flipped, you glared at Rhys. Before you could call out his plans' faults - or how terribly he was treating you and your considerable 200 units in his army- you saw Cassian shaking his head slightly at you. He rested a hand on Rhys' shoulder. The gesture stood out. The cocky high lord had a sensitive side, perhaps. Your lip curled at the thought.

As if sensing your disgust with him, Rhysand's lip curled "Now get out." He said, voice low and gravely. Cassian gestured for you and Azriel to follow him out. Rhysand reminded you so much of your own father it made you want to spit. A territorial, abusive cock without enough dignity to spare your family name.

You took a deep breath of cold air, hoping to clear your mind. It did little to shake the tension in your shoulders, or the stiffness in your jaw. Making a mental checklist of the weapons you needed to bring, you noticed Azriel following you. Or seeming to.

The shadow singer stalked past your tent, going to the west where the bridges were. "What are you doing?" You asked, jogging to catch up with him. He was already fording through the tall shrubs and grasses by the time you caught up.

"Taking care of it. I can fix it myself." He growled. You tried to keep up with him, but the jostling was upsetting your injury.

You put a hand on his shoulder, "Wait, hey." He shrugged you off, scoffing to himself. "I should have gone alone in the first place. I dont understand why he had to send you." He muttered, stalking deeper into the forest. The rain didn't reach you here, under the darkening shadows and mist.

Rage erupted inside you at his words - and you called out the only thing you could think of that might stop him. If he wanted to fight he could damn well stop and have an actual fight with you. "I guess you are just like all the other Illyrians after all." Your blood rushed in your ears, seeming to dampen the sound of everything. The dull hiss of the rain hitting the trees above was barely audible.

He stood rigid, wings flaring over his shoulders, growing larger with the shadows writing around them. "Do you even have a clue what real Illyrians would do to you right now if you were talking to them like this? What a normal male would do?" He was close. Too close for comfort. Too close to not be fighting or fucking.

"Considering my father was a very real Illyrian, yes" He stuttered at that. You'd never seen him do such a thing. It would have been funny if that angry set of his features didnt come back. You were ready for more fighting, more yelling but his face went slack, and his eyes met yours finally. They were no longer the cold dark color like in the tent with Rhysand. They were a hazel that matches the warm colors of pine bark in summer. Your heart clenched at the sight of it.

"You're like the Peacemakers, then." He muttered, referencing the old tales of mighty warriors with mixed breeding. Unfortunately a lot of that breeding was not willing. It usually never was, and it had ruined two generations of Illyrian and Peregyn pairings. "Axios was always my favorite." He smiled at the memory. You bit your lip, remembering the true stories of each hero. Not the bastardized verisons peddled throughout the realm.

The offspring became ostracized and cast out of most communities. On Prythian and on the continent. The ones who survived long enough to become trainable though were given the name Peacemakers for a reason. Known for hired bloodletting, no questions asked.

"I hope your end is not met like theirs." He seemed to shudder at the thought. All the anger boiled out of you at his concern.

You felt the shame begin to creep up around you. You had sold your services to make ends meet at times. It always left you with a sickening feeling in your gut after. As if the Mother herself was disappointed. "You can help that not happen." You said softly, voice barely audible. If you weren't so deep into the forest you doubted even his shadows could have heard you. "I need.. I need to find my father." Your voice trembled, he approached you slowly. Like he was approaching a wild animal.

"It might seem-" He began coaxing, holding a hand out to you. Just like he had the other night. A question, a temptation.

"I know your pain, shadowsinger." You took his hand, letting him lead you to a fallen tree. The soft moss growing on it was a welcome seat after walking for so long following him into the woods. "He would beat my mother and would pluck her feathers." You were grateful for your mother every second she put into resisting his influence for you. For keeping him at bay until you grew enough to be sent to the Peregryn camps for training. She never revealed your cross breeding, only that you had your wings and could use them well. Only because she had taught you.

Azriel was quiet for a long moment, his shadows moving slowly like waves around your ankles together. "I'm - sorry.. .about your mother. I didn't know." He whispered, pausing and cursing to himself. "I can help you find him. We can look, but we need to get through those enemy lines first. I need you to help me do that." He grasped your hand lightly, as if asking.

"Lets slice some attor, I guess." You sniffed, the cold making your nose run. At least, you blamed it on that.

The camp was mostly asleep by the time you got there. Under the cover of nightfall you were able to silently end most of the Fae that lurked in the camp. With everything going so smoothly, your heart lurched at the sight of Azriel falling backwards, a calling horn in his hand. His siphons flared, and it shattered. But left his siphons dull. He winced as he rolled out of the winging range of a fellow Illyrian with a flail in one hand and a mace in the other.

"Traitorous bastard." Azriel grappled with the Illyrian commander, but they were evenly matched. They knew all the same moves, sparring and sword wise. You launched yourself through the scattered bodies lining the clearing, dodging over puddles of blood and forgotten weapons. The commander had Azriel in a hold that had his wings flipped outward, and the male took the opportunity. He pressed his boot against Az's back and pulled them backward, bending them father than was natural. You roared, not bothering to waste the time to draw your weapon.

You barreled into him, Azriels hands still reaching backwards to claw at his hands. He toppled over a stack of bodies, yanking you down with him. You scrambled away from him, hands clambering for any weapon. By the time you turned back around to face him, Azriel had already put him on his knees before you. Bending the males wings back just as he had done to the shadow singer.

Your borrowed blade went through his throat, pinning him to the ground as he kneeled. He looked like a statue in the position.

You spat on the body. "Dont touch wings, asshole." You muttered. Azriel stared at you, as if in shock. You picked up a better looking sword from the ground nearby, wiping it on the cloth inside of your armor sleeve. "What?" You asked. Azriel seemed stunned silent. He seemed shocked in place. After you were sure there were no rogues readying to flee or informants spying, You took a breath, returning to him where he still stood beside the body of the commander.

You pointed back at the winged body speared to the ground behind him. Smiling, you titled the pose. "A prayer to the mother." His eyes went somehow even wider.

Then he broke out in laughter. You couldnt help but join him, the high of battle making you both delirious. You laughed at his laugh, the stupid face he made laughing back at you. Laughed at the half spoken words that were cut off by more breathless giggles.

Your sides ached by the time you both sat around the enemy fire, enjoying their spoils of war from a nearby town. The roasted duck smelled particularly good. Azriel heated a pot of tea over the coals, throwing in fresh pine needles from a tree nearby.

"You know-" He handed you your cup of tea. It was warm in your palm, but his hands were still somehow hotter than the boiling water. He blew on his cup, the steam not going much farther than what his shadows allowed. They seemed to almost play in it. "I am sorry about your mother. I understand why you regard some of us with such...distaste." He put the lid back on the pot and took it off the fire. He looked so natural doing...normal things. Not just posturing for his court and killing.

You nodded in thanks, not needing too many words with him. "She fled the week after I was formally invited to train in the Peregryn ranks. He found her, and killed her for leaving him. My court holds no rules against such things. He hasn't suffered for it." Your voice shook at the end. "Yet, that is. This.." You gestured to the battlefield, the bodies behind you. "This is just along the way. Killing him will be my destiny. My retribution for my mother." You sipped your tea, letting the burn of it sink in. You hoped it would warm your insides.

"I miss my mother as well." He said, taking a gingerly sip of his tea. He stretched his wings, you could tell by the hesitant way he folded them back in that they pained him. You made a mental note to give him one of your healing potions when you returned to camp.

You sat in silence with him until that fire burned out, and only dull coals were left.

"I'm glad you both seemed to have fun. Is the camp clear?" Cassian hissed, following you to the war tent. You sipped your mead, nodding. "Yes, oh strategic one. The bridges are cut too, courtesy of yours truly." You winked at him, making him stop in his tracks. Azriel patted him on the shoulder without a word, then followed you into the tent where Rhys waited. Wrathful or not, you knew he had no rights to tell you off this time.

Azriel's hazel eyes met your own as you entered the tent together.

#azriel x reader #azriel #reader insert #acotar fic #acotar #cassian mention

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oh-for-merlins-sake · 4 years

Text

BUTTERFLIES | fw | golden

summary: after an explosive prank, fred lands himself in detention, being forced to care for a mountain of strange plants. luckily, y/n is there to guide him the way, teaching him about the wonders of herbology and about himself, too.

pairing: fred weasley x fem!hufflepuff!reader

word count: 2.4k

warnings: pining but that’s about it!

a/n: the second installment of the golden collection is finally here!! this was lots and lots of fun to write! researching herbology and plants was hella fun. also spoiler but i think it’s ironic that the game that fred is going to play in is actually a bad one and doesn’t seem lucky at all lmfao.

taglist: @iliveiloveiwrite @andromedaa-tonks @pansydaisy @a-little-too-much @slytherinsunrise @marvelettesassemble @msmarklee1213 @letsgotothehop @finnishslytherin @starlightweasley @witch-and-a-half @darthwheezely @vogueweasley @gcdric @breadqueen95 @inglourious-imagines @amourtentiaa | george taglist: @hufflepuff5972 (message/ask to be added/removed, loves!)

“But Professor Sprout, I can’t miss this match!”

“I will not hear another peep out of you, Mr. Weasley,” she snapped, her voice muffled by the greenhouse walls that separated you.

Professor Sprout barreled through the door; Fred in tow, who was rolling his eyes rather dramatically. You peered at him through the leaves of the lavish wolfsbane that you were watering before casually approaching the pair.

You smiled warmly at each of them, knowing all too well what this particular guest entailed. Sprout looked back at you with contrition, announcing, “Mr. Weasley, this is Ms. Y/L/N — she’ll be showing you how to tend to the greenhouse on this lovely Saturday morning.”

However, the morning was anything but lovely. Dreary clouds covered the sky, and brittle leaves danced in the crisp wind. Conversely, a sticky humidity hung inside of the greenhouse, making it especially pleasant to let the cool air creep in for just a moment.

Fred flashed you a lopsided grin as he snuck out of Sprout’s grasp. She leaned towards you and whispered, “good luck,” before scurrying out of the greenhouse.

It was no mystery how little Fred Weasley cared about Herbology. Half of the time, he’d snooze to the sound of Sprout’s voice, and the other half, he’d turn her plants into playthings. It was fairly common by now to spot one of the twins shrinking the tentaculas or extracting foul odors from the wormwoods, but no such prank had been as outrageous as the one Fred pulled the morning prior: he transformed Sprout’s prized umbrella flower into a pyrotechnic display by enchanting it to blast miniature fireworks from its vibrant petals.

This would surely be a challenge.

You turned to Fred, who was closely inspecting some puffapods. You pondered the likelihood of transforming him into someone who cared even an iota about plants. And you were determined to bring it to fruition.

Contrary to him, you’d been exposed to the magic of Herbology quite early in life: your mother kept a lush garden of daffodils and dahlias, all whilst bouncing you on her hip in the summer heat. And as birthdays passed, your growing collection of Herbology books began to burst from your cluttered shelves. Most of those books traveled with you to Hogwarts, where you were often spotted in the Hufflepuff common room tending to the whimsical plants. During your fourth year, Professor Sprout, admiring your natural affinity for plants, promoted you from Soil Supervisor to Head of the Herbology Society, an accomplishment you were especially proud of.

You raised a brow at Fred, “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be, darling,” he replied.

You rolled your eyes before collecting a list of duties from a nearby table. “These are the tasks that Professor Sprout would like us to complete before sundown.” Fred hovered over your shoulder as you trailed your fingers down the parchment, “Clean the plant beds, prune the wiggentrees, trim the sugar shrubs, and re-pot the puffapods.”

Fred groaned, “We’ll be here ‘til next Saturday with all this busywork! Listen, Y/N, I’ve got to be down to the pitch by three. We’re playing Slytherin! I can’t miss it!”

“Not to worry, you won’t miss your precious little Quidditch match. In fact, it could be much worse,” you insisted, “I once had to re-pot the fanged geranium, and suffice to say, they are not a fan of re-potting!”

“And you do this for fun?” Fred shook his head, “Bloody hell, woman...”

You pivoted on your foot and started for the edge of the greenhouse, smirking to yourself before uttering, “I could ask the same of Quidditch.” You could practically hear his eyes rolling in his skull. “Most of the game’s spent beating and bruising each other, which doesn’t sound very fun at all. Honestly, it sounds quite boorish.”

He laughed humorlessly, “Is this why Hufflepuff is so bloody bad at Quidditch every year? Everyone’s too busy picking flowers when they should be practicing?”

“Which is exactly what you’re doing now,” you quipped, tossing him a pair of gloves, which he scoffed at before dejectedly throwing them on. You glanced at the clock: 9:00. You had approximately seven hours to tackle the greenhouse with Fred.

“Now, it’s very important that you follow my instructions carefully,” you began, kneeling to inspect the bed of bouncing bulbs that were tethered in place, “Every plant you see in this room is extremely delicate and must be handled with great care.”

Fred raised his brows, as if to question the gravity of the task.

You sighed, “Will you at least try to care?”

“I’ll make you a deal,” he grinned, kneeling beside you, “I’ll do as you ask, exactly how you ask, if you come to our ‘precious little Quidditch game’ later.”

You laughed, “All right, it’s a deal.”

Fred firmly shook your hand, and for the first time, you felt as though he was your friend.

————-————-

“Am I doing this right?” Fred asked as he haphazardly trimmed the sugar shrubs with a pair of dull hedge shears.

You chuckled, “Not the prettiest, but good enough.”

He laughed as he tried to assess his progress. He caught sight of the clock, which read 11:00, before spotting that fateful umbrella flower — except it wasn’t the same as before. Its vibrant pink and yellow flowers had severely paled; its stature slightly wilted.

“It’s not good for the plants, you know...” you said suddenly.

Fred’s eyes met yours.

“Transforming their size, changing their chemistry... literally lighting them up...” Fred looked down, “It places enormous stress on their fragile bodies. Most are drained of essential nutrients in the process, and too often their growth becomes permanently stunted.”

Fred couldn’t muster a single word. Instead, he stared at you with a newfound emptiness behind his eyes.

“I’m sure you hadn’t realized,” you said sadly, “Most people don’t.”

Fred tried to string together some sort of response, but nothing was coming to the surface.

You cleared your throat, “C’mon, we’ve only got a few more.”

It wasn’t long before you reached the last of the shrubs. Most of your time was spent trimming in silence; the occasional snip ringing through the humid air. But when it was time to show Fred how to prune the wiggentrees, he spoke at last.

“I genuinely had no idea,” he admitted sheepishly, “But I am so sorry, Y/N.”

“It’s not me you should be apologizing to,” you contended, “But I forgive you on their behalf.”

You intricately reviewed how to prune a wiggentree, and Fred clung to every word that fell from your lips. Every word spoken rattled his bones. While it was true that Fred enjoyed getting into mischief, it was never his intention to hurt anyone — or anything, for that matter.

And he certainly never wanted to hear the deep-rooted pain that laced your words ever again.

After a couple of hours, Fred managed to prune a decent number of wiggentrees with only a few minor scrapes to prove it. You jovially applauded him as he bowed theatrically.

“You’re not coming for my position as Head of the Herbology Society, are you?” you teased, swapping your shears for a trowel.

“Can’t get anything past this one — just too smart and pretty,” he winked.

Your face flushed with a burning heat, a bundle of butterflies bursting inside of you. Eager to avoid eye contact, you swiftly turned to lead him to your final task: re-potting the puffapods. You tried your best to focus on what Professor Sprout asked of you, but hearing Fred compliment you sent you into a complete and utter tizzy.

Fred cheekily chuckled at your sudden silence as you reached the middle of the greenhouse. You quickly composed yourself, struggling to tame the butterflies ricocheting in your stomach.

“Re-potting the puffapods is a lot easier than it sounds. Honestly, I find that using my bare hands gives me a much better understanding of where their roots lie. You don’t want to disturb those, you see.”

You tossed your gloves to the side, and Fred followed suit. You rolled your sleeves to your elbows before gently digging your fingers into the soft soil of the pot closest to you. “Here,” you nodded for Fred to come closer, “Come see what they feel like.”

His stomach flipped as your delicate fingers clasped around his large, rough hand. You guided his hand under the soil until you could both feel the roots that intertwined below. You suddenly realized how close you stood to Fred. Every breath that escaped from his lungs practically shot into your own. The same warmth that had flooded your face earlier returned once more.

“Scoop around those to move it to its new home,” you explained softly, carefully maneuvering his hand to scoop the purple puffapod.

You smiled at him, wondering if he was thinking the same things you were: how the morning had been surprisingly delightful; how bolts of electricity zipped through your body when your hands met; and how the autumnal sun was occasionally peeking through pockets of clouds. It beared down just enough warmth through the sheer greenhouse windows to comfort you.

You shook your thoughts and asked Fred, “Think you got it?”

“Think so,” he nodded, an encouraging smile plastered to his lips.

He demonstrated his competency with the task on his first attempt, so you trusted him to the smaller puffapods as you began tackling the bigger ones.

You sighed, “Perhaps we’ll see some Painted Ladies today.”

Fred furrowed his brows, “Rest assured, there are plenty of those hanging in this ancient castle.”

“No!” you laughed, “Not literal painted ladies — the butterflies!”

Fred laughed with you, “The butterflies? Who in the bloody hell decided ‘Painted Lady’ would be a proper name for a butterfly?”

“I don’t know that, but I do know that hundreds of them migrate in around this time of year,” you explained, “It’s a sight to see! Trelawney always says, ‘Good fortune will be brought unto those who witness it!’”

Fred laughed at your spot-on impression, “Is that so?”

“‘Course! And if the rain holds out a little longer, they might just make an appearance,” you said, peering outside.

You perused the landscape in silence. Without turning back to Fred, you muttered, “Seven years here, and I still haven’t seen it.”

He instantly sensed the deep disappointment that colored your words. And he realized that this actually mattered to you. He recognized that this was something you believed was truly absent from your time here — time that was quickly running down the hourglass.

Mollifying your melancholy, Fred changed the subject, and before you knew it, you were both animatedly chatting as you slaved over Sprout’s tedious task. He told you all about how his mum made him de-gnome the gardens growing up, and how everything “just tasted better” with fresh ingredients he and his siblings harvested from their backyard. Meanwhile you taught him to identify various trees by the pattern of their leaves and identified the part of the year each flower flourished.

He admired your commitment to such seemingly insignificant creatures. Though he’d only known you shortly, he knew you loved these plants; the way your eyes lit up at the sight of a fresh bud blooming in the bushes; or the way you rattled off the perfect way to keep a flutterby bush alive in the dead of winter. You had him longing to find beauty in even the darkest corners of the world.

And part of that beauty he had found in you.

Once you finished the last of the puffapods, you dusted your hands and turned to Fred. A sudden sadness bloomed in your chest as you watched him wipe a bead of sweat from his forehead.

Fred felt a similar sorrow burrowing inside of him.

“Well, we did it… And with,” you glanced at the clock, “about an hour to spare.”

He nodded, “It was nice working with you today, Y/N.”

You nodded, “Yeah, you as well!”

“It’s surprising how much beauty lies in even the tiniest of plants.”

Your eyes sparkled up at him in response; as if he were a beautiful rosebud basking in the sun with its petals swaying in the gentle wind. He didn’t want to let the moment go.

“I was thinking maybe you and me could — bloody hell!”

Fred’s eyes widened, a grin exploding onto his face. Before you could ask, he swiveled you to face the long anticipated miracle.

Your hand flew to your mouth, “Merlin!”

You bolted out of the greenhouse as Fred trailed closely behind. Hundreds of butterflies soared overhead; their bright orange wings sonorously fanning your skin. The steady breeze that flitted through the air could’ve soothed a thousand scorching summers.

You slowly reached upwards, allowing the dainty creatures to dance around your fingertips. You laughed at the sensation, and at the fact that you couldn’t help but cry.

You were levitating at the hands of one of Mother Nature’s finest masterpieces.

Fred was dazed and delighted standing there amidst the storm of butterflies. Despite this, he was careful not to encroach on a moment so destined for you that it felt wrong to impose himself on the memory.

You shook your head with laughter as you turned to face him, “Can you believe it?!”

He shook his head in disbelief, “This is wicked!”

“To think I might have missed it if it would have just been me in the greenhouse! I would’ve been finished hours ago!” you exclaimed, abruptly hugging Fred in the process, “Thank you, Fred! Thank you!”

And as if he’d done it a million times before, Fred wrapped his arms around you. The sweet scent of your perfume nearly intoxicated him, and the thunderous flight of Painted Ladies became his new favorite melody. The familiar sensation of butterflies fluttering inside of him consumed him yet again.

“Thank you,” he said softly.

You pulled away, your hands lingering on his arms. “Guess you better get going. Don’t want to miss the big match!”

“But I’ll see you in the stands, yeah? You promised,” he playfully reminded you.

“Definitely,” you replied, a warm blush flooding your face.

You waved goodbye as Fred started over the hill. He practically skipped towards the Quidditch pitch and recalled Trelawney’s famous claim: good fortune will be brought unto those who witness the great migration.

He hoped that was true.

And not because of the Quidditch match.

#fred weasley x you #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x hufflepuff!reader #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley #golden collection

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southernlynxx · 3 years

Text

On The Winds of Winter Come Tranquility

Rating: Gen Status: Complete Fandom: RDR2 Pairing: Arthur Morgan/Charles Smith Canon/AU: Pre-Canon

Prompt(s): Racing/Cuddling. Warnings: cuteness A/N: HAPPY FESTIVE JOLLY TIMES @krystal-callinghan! I was a fill-in pinch-hitter for your Secret Winter Exchange! I’m sorry for the fic’s very humble word count, but I hope it meets all your fluffy expectation! (I called upon two dedicated Charthur shippers - @sunspott and @night-owl-morgansmith - to ensure it met with their exacting Charthur standard 😂) Thank you for being an absolute delight and an overwhelmingly talented presence in the fandom!

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It’s a rare day when a winter afternoon is a pleasant one, but that’s the only way Arthur can think to describe it as he reins his grullo dun mare to a halt at the top of a grassy knoll.

The sky is a clear azure blue, the sun shining bright if not warm upon the frosty world below, and everything glistens with a crystal coat. The wintry crunch beneath Bonita’s hooves is soothing in its own way as she shifts her weight and blows out a whickering breath that billows from her nostrils in plumes of warm mist. He chuckles and pats her neck as he scans the plains below, but nothing catches his keen eye amongst the grasses and scattered shrubs. Everything is still, save for the birds flitting across the open sky which are too small and swift to bother wasting a bullet on.

A series of crisp and quiet steps are the only signal to alert him to the rider coming up behind him. He tilts his head only enough to catch a glimpse of Charles as he draws to a stop alongside Bonita, sitting tall and confident astride Taima with his bow in hand.

“Spotted anything?” he asks in a low timbre; Arthur shakes his head.

“Nope.” His rifle’s likely frozen in its scabbard by this point, telling of how much luck they’ve had on their several hour long hunt, but frustration is far from his thoughts as he sits back easily in the saddle and takes in a deep breath of crisp winter air.

There’s no desperate need for supplies with the low temperatures and occasional snowfall provide a serviceable cold storage for their meat, and with no rush to cook and consume it before it spoils, a fruitless hunt can transition into a leisurely trail ride without defeat and pressing hunger accompanying it.

Charles hums, but like Arthur he doesn’t seem bothered by the lack of prey to haul back. Their ride so far has been peaceful and pleasant with easy conversation scattered throughout stretches of comfortable silence. A rare chance to indulge in each others’ company without the weight of a job on their shoulders or a target on their backs. Away from the gossip-mongers back at camp intent on sticking their noses where neither men, who were keen on keeping their personal affairs private, wanted them.

“Should call it a day,” Charles says after several long minutes of assessing the landscape, though Arthur is sure he’s admiring it more than surveying it now; if he ever was in the first place. Despite having his bow out the whole time, Charles hadn’t made a single move to raise it when usually the slightest rustle of a bush would have had him nocking an arrow in preparation. It seems neither of them have truly been set on the hunt.

The suggestion is sensible, there are still plenty of tasks to do around camp, but the thought of returning so soon comes anchored with a heavy sense of reluctance.

“Yeah,” he grunts, trying not to sound so unenthused, but if Charles’ quiet chuckle is anything to go by, he fails. Clearing his throat he turns his head away to hide the heat to his cheeks that he can’t blame on windchill when there’s barely a breeze to be felt. If there were anyone who could make him feel like a schoolboy caught out, it was the damnable Charles Smith, but still his amusement brings a fluttering warmth to Arthur’s chest which only makes him feel like more the smitten fool.

“There’s no need to rush back,” Charles offers with a curious intonation that has Arthur side-eying the other man. “But Taima could do with stretching her legs.” “What’cha suggestin’?” He turns in his saddle to face Charles fully now, eyebrow quirked though Charles’ expression is frustratingly neutral save for the upwards curl at the corner of his full lips. They draw Arthur’s eye for a beat too long, but if Charles notices he doesn’t seem inclined to tease Arthur further for it. Instead, he nods towards a copse of trees, a few pines with snow-heavy branches standing amongst a scattering of leaf-bare birches. “A race?” he surmises, only somewhat surprised by the suggestion, not that he gives Charles the chance to confirm it.

Whether it’s from past experiences with the sly cheat that is John Marston forever jumping the starting pistol, or the prevalent need to mask the blush still lingering warm and flush across his cheeks, Arthur spurs Bonita so suddenly that the mare lunges forward. Though she starts with a snort of surprise, it ignites an ingrained and well-tested instinct to flee without question or gunfire to motivate her.

The sting of the wind is sudden and sharp against Arthur’s skin, Bonita’s gait quickly hitting a flat-out gallop as they pick up momentum down the slope of the hill. The mare is stout, but her endurance is unmatched as she ploughs across the frosty plain, the wind whistling shrill in Arthur’s ears and almost drowning out the thunder of Taima’s hooves in fruitless pursuit. He gives his mare all the rein she needs to run far and fast, her sides heaving and head tossing with a wild delight, he even feels the kick of an excited buck which does nothing to unseat him or hinder her lead.

The thrill of it brings a broad grin to his face as he holds on tight to his hat should he lose it, yet much too soon they’re nearly upon the trees that mark the finish line and his sure victory. Bonita slows easy and pliant as Arthur ducks under the lower branches of the first pine, grin firmly fixed in place through winded, exhilarated breaths he tries to stifle. He turns to watch Charles’ approach at a canter, likely adopted upon Arthur’s obvious victory given the man hadn’t even the chance to put away his bow.

Thankfully Charles doesn’t look annoyed as he comes to a halt just outwith the shelter of the trees. The amusement that rings clear in his voice is quick to alleviate any doubt Arthur may have had about Charles’ good nature and broadens his grin all the more; “You race like you shoot, no warning or mercy; glad I didn’t suggest a duel.” Arthur laughs, a deep, free and forthcoming thing. “Naw, perhaps ol’ Taima there just ain’t a match for my girl,” he grins, patting Bonita fondly on her broad neck. Charles’ eyebrow quirks, and had Arthur been watching, or realised the grave consequences of his words, he might have seen Charles toss his bow lightly to grasp it at it’s tip and bring it surely down upon the lowest cluster of branches.

The strike shudders through the limbs of the tree and in the next instant several pounds of snow topple down onto the victor and his mount. Arthur gives a startled shout; first at the sudden deluge of icy powder, then when his mare starts and promptly drops him into the bank of snow now piled at their feet.

He lies there for a long moment, slightly stunned and slow to gather his wits until he’s able to find the purchase to right himself. He sits up with a groan, jacket now thickly powdered and cheeks aflame with heat and cold alike, glaring up at Charles with a pursed lip that’s more a show of indignation than true annoyance.

Charles smirks down at him, not bothering to feign the slightest bit of innocence. “Oops.”

“You ain’t a nice man, Mister Smith,” Arthur drawls, unable to stop the smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. Charles laughs, a quieter but no less pleasant sound which has warmth filling Arthur to the tips of his chilly toes.

“It’s not the first time I’ve been told,” he returns, leaning down off the side of Taima’s saddle to offer Arthur a hand up. The admittance genuinely surprises Arthur and he doesn’t bother to hide the fact as he accepts the man’s hand. He allows himself to be hauled to his feet and further still into Taima’s saddle with only some minor fumbling to seat himself, his arms looping with comfortable familiarity around Charles’ waist.

“Well, I look forward to meetin’ them what said so,” he rumbles with less humour, mouth snapping shut when Charles looks over his shoulder at him with an easy humour and warmth that has Arthur averting his eyes. “Not that you ain’t capable, o’course,” he adds in a hasty mutter, hushed by the kiss Charles lands quick and chaste against his lips.

“I never said it was meant as an insult,” he smirks, and Arthur sags against him with a bitten-off groan.

“Now you’s just bein’ cruel,” he complains, prompting a heartier laugh from Charles which helps to quell the bubble of envy his teasing has stoked.

“How about we go find ‘your girl’, hm?” Charles suggests, finally relenting when Arthur’s arms squeeze minutely around his middle. ”Would appreciate it. One thing returning to camp without food, s’nother coming back without a horse,” Arthur drawls, to which Charles agrees. Falling into a companionable silence, Taima carries them dutifully back across the plain, their sights set on the grullo dun mare idling frosty and displeased in the distance.

#charthur #charles smith #arthur morgan #secretwinterexchange

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qingxin-s · 3 years

Text

༉₊˚✧ʀᴇᴅ ꜱᴛʀɪɴɢ : xɪᴀᴏ x ꜰ.ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

anon requested: a red string of fate soulmate au where in xiao would try to avoid / deny that he has a soulmate,, angst to fluff or just plain angst :]

synopsis: everyone is born with a string that connects them to their soulmate. it can never be cut, and it can never be tangled.

genre: soulmate au, angst

word count: 1.5k

warning(s): mentions of blood and character death, not fully proof-read so sorry in advance

Xiao had hated the idea of soulmates for as long as he could remember.

Why put all his effort into caring about someone who was going to die anyways? Why break their heart when he has to push them away due to his job? The whole idea was stupid to him, and if he could- he'd sever the string tied around his pinkie finger.

At least, that's what he thought until he met her.

A joyful soul, so full of life and energy- always prepared to lend those closest to her a helping hand. She was even kind to the Yakasha, she didn't run from him in fear. He had heard about her before their meeting, she was somewhat famous around Liyue.

Famous for her kind acts and bright smile: even the children sung their praises about her. She was who he was least expecting to be his soulmate.

The air blew harshly through his sea green hair as he sat on top of the rooftop staring down at his now bare finger- and he couldn't help but grit his teeth.

━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦━━━━

The tugging at his finger was growing more and more frequent as he stalked through the hilltops and although he tried his best to ignore it, he couldn't help but notice how much his heart rate was beginning to rise.

Why the hell was his soulmate out so late? Didn't they know the dangers that lurked in the shadows, the monsters waiting around every corner? They were going to end up being killed before he could even meet them- if he ever decided to meet them.

With every step the young man took, the string grew tighter and tighter- becoming more visible to his eyes, to the point where he could see it trailing on the grass floor. The bush to his right moved as he looked towards the string- and he instantly pulled out his weapon.

"Who's there?" Xiao hissed, his golden hues narrowing at the sound. The bush rustled again as a head poked over the top of it, and they instantly shushed him.

"Shush! I finally managed to get the poor cat to sleep" She whisper-yelled, causing him to cock his head in confusion. What cat? Before he could ask about it however, he noticed the string around his finger lead to her own.The girl wasn't immune to this either...and she slowly turned to him.

"Oh..."

━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦━━━━

With a yell he threw his spear to the floor and pushed himself from the roof, jumping to grip hold of the wooden railings as tight as he could- ignoring how white his knuckles turned.

Why was he thinking of her now? It had been so long since...since then, so why did she still plague his mind?

The amber hue of the sunrise peaked shyly at him as he kept his head bowed, staring down at the bridge connecting Wangshu Inn to Liyue, and he grimaced. The sunrises weren't the same now without her, they weren't as full of energy.

"You knew this was going to happen, idiot" He growled to himself as he fell to his knees- glaring out at the scenery.

━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦━━━━

"He likes you!" (Y/N) beamed as she watched the Yaksha poke slightly at the grey cat, his yellow eyes full of confusion as it purred at him. It had been several weeks since they had met under such unusual circumstances- and he was stupid enough to help her look after the cat she was talking about.

"Why is it making that noise? Is it possessed?" Xiao murmured as he watched the creature roll over and display it's stomach to him- causing her to burst into a peel of laughter. She clutched at his arm as he cocked his head once more.

"You're so cute, Xiao! It's a cat- it makes that noise when it's happy!" She grinned as she intertwined her hand with his own, moving it to stroke the cat. The mix of her jasmine scent and the warmth of her hand was enough to make him dizzy- and he had to focus all his attention onto the creature before him.

"Tch, whatever" He mumbled as he stroked the cat, and she clapped her hands in delight.

━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦━━━━

Tears glassed over his yellow hues, threatening to spill and stain his cheeks. God, he'd spent so much time around her that he had picked up on her ways of expressing emotions. He had never cried this much before- dammit.

Harshly, he wiped at them with his gloved hands...but it was no use. They kept spilling, and spilling, and spilling.

━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦━━━━

"I thought I'd see you out here!" (Y/N) grinned as she poked her head round the balcony entrance, spotting the Yaksha stood there. He turned his green haired head slightly to catch her gaze, and she quickly bound over to him.

"I brought you some almond tofu! The boss was telling me how much you like it!" She smiled, holding out the small bowl to him. Almond tofu...his biggest weakness. (Y/N) pulled him towards the small table set up near the railing of the balcony and pushed him onto the chair- pointing towards the dish for him to eat.

"Did you make it yourself?" He asked, looking up at her as she stood proudly with her hands behind her back, and she nodded her head enthusiastically. With a sigh he reached towards the fork he had been provided, and he took a bite.

Almost instantly, the flavours he adored so much washed over his tongue and made his heart throb- and his yellow hues widened.

"You like it!!" (Y/N) exclaimed as she clapped her hands, and without thinking he pushed his chair away and walked up to her- wrapping her in a tight hug. Almond tofu always made him happy, and now that she had made him some...he was even happier.

━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦━━━━

"Xiao, can I ask you something?" The h/c haired girl whispered as she rested her head on his shoulder, staring out at the sunset. They were perched on the balcony at Wangshu Inn, all alone together in their little bubble. He hummed in response as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder- pulling her closer.

It was a year after their first encounter, and he had began to warm to the idea of having a soulmate. She cared about him deeply, he knew she wasn't going to leave him unprompted. But he was still scared.

Humans were too weak.

"Are you...happy that we're soulmates?" She whispered, leaning her head up to take a good look at him, soaking in his peaceful features. It was rare to see his face so relaxed, but it had become a habit around her. His eyebrows knitted as he pulled away from her slightly.

"Do you think i'm not happy?" He prodded, and she quickly shook her head.

"No, no! Just...I really like you. And I don't want you to feel forced to feel the same way just because...you know...we're soulmates" (Y/N) mumbled the last part, and he quickly cupped a hand to the back of her head and pulled her to his chest.

"I'd kill for you, don't ever think otherwise" He said firmly, and he could feel her laugh into his chest and she very quickly melted into the embrace.

━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦━━━━

But, he'd been around long enough to know that all good things in his life swiftly come to an end.

He'd seen so much death to know what was going to happen.

He knew...he was going to lose the only good thing in his life.

━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦━━━━

"(Y/N)!? Hey, answer me already!" The Yaksha yelled as he ran towards the clearing, the mask attached to his face glowing green and lighting up his path. No...no no no. Where the hell was she?!

He told her not to go out, not to follow him because it was dangerous. But by the time he had returned to her home- she was gone. The rain beat down on his body harshly as he pushed shrubs out of his way, raising his spear to cut through some of them.

The string around his finger was tight- he knew she was nearby. But why wasn't she responding to his calls?! In his panic he slipped, almost plummeting off the face of the cliff he was approaching- but he quickly steadied himself.

Up ahead, he could see 4 figures all huddled over something, the cloud around their bodies inky black. They were demons- and they had to be eliminated. With no hesitation he sprinted towards them, jumping in the air as he cut through them like paper- and they fell to the ground with a thud.

As he landed he felt the string pull tight, and his heartbeat rose. She was here. Slowly, his eyes fell to the floor where a figure was collapsed- and his heart almost cracked.

"(Y/N)?..." He whispered as he dropped to his knees, quickly scooping her up in his arms as he brushed her h/c hair off her forehead. Her skin was cold, her lips chapped and stained a crimson colour he was all too familiar with.

"Hey! Answer me!" Xiao cried as he shook her body, but she remained silent- still. His jaw clenched as he balled her towards his chest, and without trying to stop it- a loud scream of pain left his lips. Acidic tears poured from his eyes as he clung to her, the harsh rain making the blood seeping from her body pool around him.

This is why he hated the idea of soulmates.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact fanfic #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #xiao x reader #xiao genshin impact #xiao x you #anime #fanfic #oneshot #x reader #soulmate au

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amesstm · 3 years

Text

Nose Bleeds: Part 1

Pairing: Ushijima Wakatoshi x Reader

Word Cout: 1692

A/N: sorry for taking a week off! I was drowned with schoolwork and then did some college visits. I’ll try to keep up with my set schedule! Also, this is my first Haikyuu story because it has taken over my life. Plus, thank you to whomever made the gif!

“Got it!” You exclaimed as you dug the volleyball towards your setter.

“Good Y/L/N!” Your friends cheered. The set ended with another point for your team.

Your team crowded towards the center of your side of the court. Amongst the trees known as your teammates, you looked like a shrub in comparison. Of course, your short stature was an advantage since you were the libero but it was always funny seeing as you only made it up to their shoulders or chests.

After bowing to the opposing team, your friend Tendo rushed to congratulate you. He swept you off of your feet – which wasn’t very difficult – and swung you around like a doll. “You did amazing, Y/N!”

You giggled as he set you down, “Thank you Tendo. But I could still use some work.”

Tendo grinned mischievously and wiggled his eyebrows, “I think I know how you can solve that.”

“No!” You whispered harshly. “I won’t take you up on that idea!”

“Please?” He whined, clutching onto your cheeks like you were a puppy. “I think it’d be a good chance for you two to get closer. There’s only so much time before we all graduate.”

You sighed, “I know, but I can’t even be around him! I’m as good as a rock when I try to talk to him.”

“Well, he’s more or less a rock in general,” Tendo acknowledged with a shrug. “Why not just one practice with Miracle Boy?”

You bit your lip and avoided looking at Tendo’s convincing smile. If he could control you like a Sim, you were sure your romance levels with Ushijima would be off the charts.

Of course, you wanted to get closer to Ushijima in the last months you had before you inevitably went your separate ways, but again – there were only a few months left. The boy seemed as dense as ever, never having understood what you tried to say to him in the first place. Then again, it might’ve been because you were incredibly flustered.

But, if you had only a few months left, why not enjoy it?

You sighed in defeat, “Okay, I’ll try one practice.”

“Finally!” Tendo jumped into the air from sheer excitement. “You’ll redeem yourself from the last time you tried to talk to him.”

A groan escaped your mouth, “Please don’t ever mention that again.”

Obviously, Tendo would always mention it. He would never forget when you tried to ask the tall boy if he could sit lower so you could see the board during class. Before you mustered the confidence, you could only rely on hearing the teacher to take notes. Even Ushijima’s broad shoulders prevented you from looking around him.

So, you finally tried asking him. By asking, you meant getting so shy that you were a whispering mess. In the end, you failed and had to ask to be moved up front. So much for being able to admire Ushijima’s back muscles.

“If you two get married, I’ll have a whole presentation of all the times you were shy around him,” Tendo teased.

“Do you want me to smack you on the head?” You threatened.

He smirked, “Can you reach?”

How did you let Tendo convince you to do this? Did he secretly enjoy your suffering? You saw Ushijima walking to the gym for volleyball practice, as usual. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach, urging you to beat them down. Breathe in and out. Inhale. Exhale.

Okay, you got this.

You stepped towards Ushijima, who noticed you immediately. His olive eyes peered down at you, looking curious. No doubt, he thought you were looking for Tendo. He was about to open his mouth to ask, but you beat him to speak first.

“Hi Ushijima. I know we don’t speak much, but would you mind practicing with me?” You asked as calmly as possible. Yet inside, your heart was pounding wildly.

He only blinked, so you elaborated. “I want to work more on my defense so I’d really appreciate if you would serve for me.”

“Why practice with me?” His baritone voice rippled. You were suddenly reminded of your thoughts about what it’d be like to rest your head on his chest. The thought made you blush and widen your eyes. Surely, you must’ve looked like a deer in headlights.

So, you faltered slightly. “W-well, I wanted to be able to practice with someone outside of my team.”

“Is Tendo not willing?” Ushijima asked, surprised that you two wouldn’t practice together first. He always saw you two attached at the hip. If Ushijima didn’t know that Tendo only saw Y/N as a friend, he would’ve mistaken them for a couple. Except for the fact that Tendo treats you like a little sister regarding your height.

You rubbed the back of your neck with a soft laugh, “I think Tendo would distract me more than anything.”

Ushijima resisted the urge to smile. Instead, the prodigy nodded with understanding, “Then we’ll practice tomorrow.”

For the first time, Tendo saw Ushijima smiling for no reason. It wasn’t one of his forced smiles when someone asked if he could ever smile. Those smiles were terrifying. However, this smile was different. Tendo had a gut-feeling that he knew why, but he would love to hear the reason.

“Hm, is there a special reason why you’re smiling?” Tendo teased, winking at his friend. He leaned over towards Ushijima with sparkles twinkling in his eyes.

Ushijima’s mouth returned to his firm line, secretly embarrassed at being caught. “Why do you want to know?”

“Is it because of Y/N?” Tendo asked in a whisper, using his hand so only Ushijima can hear.

Y/N and Ushijima didn’t know, but Tendo has been acting as Cupid ever since he found out they liked each other. For Ushijima, Tendo noticed the quiet boy looking at her more than anyone else, even with all his admirers. For you, it was because you couldn’t talk to him at all despite your radiating confidence. Of course, he was right. When was Tendo’s intuition ever wrong?

“I’m surprised that she asked me instead of you,” Ushijima muttered.

“Hm?”

“I thought I scared her.”

Perhaps all the times you were unable to speak to him was interpreted incorrectly on Ushijima’s end. It would make sense, given that he was intimidating for most people in the first place. It was even worse looking at the two interact. To anyone it would seem like he was scaring you.

Tendo sighed before he giggled, “It’s in a good way. Trust me.”

“Being scary is a bad thing,” Ushijima said with a hint of confusion in his voice.

His friend sighed and clasped his face, “What will I do with you?”

For you, tomorrow came too soon. Your nerves made you arrive earlier than necessary – 20 minutes early to be exact. You wanted to warm up a bit beforehand, just so you wouldn’t embarrass yourself in front of him.

You tied your hair up and put on your knee and elbow pads. Then, you decided to stretch out your legs. Spreading your feet out to match shoulder length, you sighed as you pushed yourself towards the ground. Luckily, you seemed to have the flexibility of a gymnast so you easily touched the floor.

“You’re here early,” a deep voice rumbled behind you. You look through your legs to see Ushijima. His eyes quickly averted from the position you were in.

You unraveled yourself, maintaining eye contact with him. As much as you could anyways, without combusting on the spot. “Yeah, I just wanted to stretch.”

He grunted, “We’ll start in a moment then.”

For a second, you watched him set down his belongings. The apples of his cheeks reddened slightly as he gulped. You raised an eyebrow, and then died a little inside when you realized why.

A few minutes of silence passed, until Ushijima called you to attention. He stood at the opposite end of the court, ready to serve. The absolute focus in his eyes ignited a sense of admiration within you. He smacked the ball in front of him, before looking ready.

You nodded. Not a second later, you were making contact with a ball he served. You’ve seen him serve before. A gunshot would ring out in the court, with the ball only making an appearance after it landed on the opponent’s side. Yet you were able to connect with the ball. However, it felt like he was serving directly at you.

He made another deadly serve. Once more, you were able to dig the ball. Another.

“Hey,” you yelled across to the other side. “Are you just going to serve towards me or make me work for it?”

If you were closer to him, you would’ve been able to see a small smile form on his face. Instead, all you saw was a nod and heard a grunt. He served towards the middle this time. You sprinted towards it and took a roll to get it. Finally, you were able to feel out of breath and sweaty.

“Again!” You smiled like a maniac.

Another ball went towards the back corner. You were fully in control of your side of the court. Ushijima made sure you were light on your feet by purposefully making the ball hit the net before slowly falling on your side. After an hour, you felt a bit fatigued by running across the floor.

Perhaps that’s why you didn’t notice the ball coming right at your head. You fell to the ground, feeling like you just got hit by a car. Afterall, sometimes spikes can be over 100 km/her. You groaned, the lights on the ceiling blurring. The dulled sound of long, quick strides towards you overwhelmed your ears despite the ringing in your head.

“Y/N, your nose is bleeding. I’ll find a tissue and then we’re taking you to the nurse.”

You couldn’t respond, except with a groan. He muttered something about not being able to find any. Ushijima returned to your side, taking off his shirt. Luckily, your vision was returning. Then, your nose started bleeding more.

“Is this heaven?” You asked, dazed.

#ushiwaka #ushijima x y/n #ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi #haikyu x reader #haikyū!!#haiku #haikyuu!!#tendou satori #haikyuu tendou

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girlmeetsliv3 · 4 years

Text

Sandman II

Hyung Line X Reader

Genre: Mystery, Psychological Thriller, Horror

Rated: M

Word Count: 4.2K

Release Date: February 26, 2021 @ 5 p.m. (GMT-5)

“Three years ago, the town was rocked by the disappearance of YN YLN. A bright young girl who had dreams of attending university and becoming a nurse. YN was a kind, shy, studious girl who kept to herself and never caused any troubles associated with teens her age. So imagine her loved ones surprised when she disappears one night from bed - never to be seen again. The strangest part was that all her belongings had been taken, all the photos with her disappeared, and all her social medias deleted. But perhaps most peculiar was the wet sand found at the foot of her bed.”

Warning: Brief mention of death and suicide.

The first words out of Kim Seokjin's mouth when they reached the car, after having been escorted through the back entrance to avoid the press, were "I'm sorry." YN hadn't even known how to react before Seokjin launched into a full-blown ramble, "I'm so sorry about that YN. I just - I have been so worried. We've all been, and we thought you - but now you're here. They didn't even tell us even though we're listed and to just think about how alone you've been. How confused you must feel -"

YN placed her hands on top of his which rested on the shift gear, “It’s okay Jin. I understand.” She smiled at him tenderly before her sister’s words flashed through her mind, ‘Isn’t Seokjin the best?! He’s the only man you can truly rely on.’ Instantly YN took her hands off him, folding them on her lap. Now was not the time to dwell on those things. If Seokjin noticed the sudden shift in the air he didn’t comment on it, simply stating: “You’ve always been so understanding.” Before focusing on the road and turning the engine on, driving away. As they exited the parking lot, YN saw all the vans from the news outlets parked outside. Some she recognized, others she didn’t, but what she did notice was a large sign being held up by one of the reporters. It read: Sandman victim finally returns.

It was as much a shock to me as it was to everyone when Seokjin and I started dating. He wasn’t my type. I can’t say for sure what it was that drew us together - maybe loneliness - or maybe I just liked the way people stared in shock at the fact that someone like him was with someone like me. That didn’t matter though, Seokjin and the others were always there. They were whatever I needed them to be. They would do anything to make me happy, but I wasn’t the only one they treated as special.

When the car approached the front gate of Nagwon villas YN frowned, “Weren’t we going to the hospital?” The thought of being poked and prodded like a rag doll wasn’t a pleasing one, but she knew disappearing for three years and not remembering anything didn’t bode well. The only thing that could give a hint at what she’d endured, and why she’d forgotten, was her body. Seokjin shrugged, “I know you aren’t a big fan of doctors, so I asked Namjoon for a favor.” Namjoon? She wasn't sure she was ready to see Namjoon or any of them for that matter. She hadn't even thought about seeing Jin until he showed up. ‘He’s like something out of a fairy tale, isn’t he? A knight in shining armor.’ YN shook her head, don't think about her or you'll start crying like a child again. Everyone in her family had always called her a crybaby, teased her for not being able to hold her emotions in. Right now, though, she felt less like a newborn and more like an overflowed dam. About to break at any second.

“Are the others going to be there?” Is he going to be there?

“No, Hoseok is out of town. He should be coming back tomorrow though; I wasn’t sure if you wanted him to know you were back but it's all over the news.”

That wasn't who she was talking about and they both knew it. Still, if Seokjin was being ignorant then it was for a reason; so she went along with it. "Shouldn't it be Namjoon's dad?"

Seokjin glanced at her from the corner of his eye, “Namjoons a doctor now, babe. It’ll be him you’re seeing.” Perhaps still sensing her hesitance he continued, “Don’t worry his family has a private practice in their house for situations like this.”

“You’re all still friends?” She asked, looking outside the window at the passing houses. They passed several houses she recognized, having been inside a couple of them. Nagwon kids always threw the best parties; likely due to their houses being huge and the large amounts they could spend on booze. Her sister would always drag YN to one when she was stuck babysitting, at first she’d just sit around on her phone. Things became easier when they started hanging out with the guys though: there was always Hoseok to crack jokes, Namjoon to talk random things about, and Seokjin to offer whatever it was she needed. Yoongi was always there too, but they wouldn’t talk much just sit in silence.

“Of course, why wouldn’t we be? The best of friends.” There was no sarcasm or humor in his voice, he meant it. Maybe he truly didn’t care? Or three years was a long time to hold onto a grudge especially when the two at-fault for their problems disappeared from their lives. That’s probably why. With YN and her sister out of the way, things had gone back to normal for the men. Nonetheless, it felt like nothing between Seokjin and YN had changed, but that couldn't be true. It's been three years. That statement was difficult for her to wrap her head around, but it didn’t make it any less true. It had been three years and yet Seokjin acted like they hadn’t spent a single day apart. Her mind filled with questions and doubts, so much so she couldn’t help but ask.

“Did we hang out the night I disappeared?”

Seokjin took his hands off the wheel, she hadn’t even noticed the car had stopped, the look he gave her was a mixture of incredulity and hurt. “No, we didn’t. You told me you didn’t want to see me again.” His voice was tense, ears getting red the way they did whenever he was upset. “Don’t you remember?”

I did tell him that. She hadn't meant it of course, but YN tended to lash out when she felt cornered. Thinking back now, she remembered her cruel words how she had blamed Seokjin for something that was both their fault. The pain on his face and the desperation in his tone as he begged for her to forgive him, only for YN to kick him out and shut the door.

"I forgot. I'm sorry, Jin." She pressed her fingers into her palm, hoping the pain would take things off her mind.

“Hey.” Jin’s fingers gently gripped the bottom of her chin, “It’s okay. I forgive you, let’s just not talk about it again okay?” He pressed a quick kiss to the side of her head.

YN breathed deeply before unlocking the door and getting out. The Kim's large beige mansion stared down at her - it was the first time she’d been there, and the nerves were eating her up. Namjoon will probably have a lot of questions too. She had barely managed to get through one of Officer Taehyung’s questions before having a panic attack, YN had no idea how she would brave against Namjoon. With nerves clouding her senses she failed to notice the black motorcycle parked on the curve, slightly obscured by the shrubs. Had she YN would have avoided walking into a trap.

"Heard you got your ass whooped by Min." Jungkook laughed, as he sat on the edge of Taehyung's desk. "Did he take you over his knee and make you count to ten?" At that, a couple of others nearby chuckled. Taehyung rolled his eyes, "If he hears you, he'll take you over his knee." Jungkook shoved him softly, though 'softly' in this case meant Taehyung almost fell off his chair. Deciding to ignore him this time, he focused once again on the small font on his computer. Several minutes passed before Jungkook spoke again, "Is this about YN? If you're looking through the case files you won't find anything useful. Trust me, everyone in this room has gone through it multiple times."

There was a reason there was press lined up outside, nothing sold quite like a morbid story. ‘Girl disappears from her bed in the middle of the night with no trace behind’ had a nice hook to it. Taehyung had already been in the academy when it happened, but he was still shocked - especially once he found out it had happened in his hometown. Nothing ever happened in this town, they called it paradise for a reason. Yet someone had broken into the YLN family home and stolen a girl straight from her bed, nothing left behind but a bit of wet sand.

“It doesn’t hurt to look again, plus now we might get somewhere that she’s back. Find out who did it.” Taehyung scrolled down and started looking at all the pictures, he’d have to swing by the evidence locker later to see what they still had left physically.

“I’m just surprised the sister didn’t do it, given everything -”

Taehyung spun around quickly in his chair, “Don’t say that. Minsuh loved that kid, she’d never do anything to hurt her.”

“Yeah well that’s not what I heard,” Jungkook said matter-of-factly. “I know it isn’t good to speak ill of the dead, but Minsuh wasn’t as dignified as her name suggested.”

Taehyung turned away from the young cop, “Look you’re wasting my time and I have to focus on this case. YN’s going to come back tomorrow and we need to build a timeline, can’t do that without all the facts so just go away.”

Jungkook sighed, “Sorry man. I know the two of you were close,” Jungkook had seen how uncomfortable Taehyung had gotten when YN brought up him dating her sister. “But you know I’m not the only one that thinks so. Regardless, everyone knows it's not true now so there’s that.”

It doesn’t matter, Taehyung wanted to say, she died with everyone in this town thinking she was a murderer. Nothing will ever change that. Instead, he remained quiet, eyes focused on the computer screen. Gaze focused intensely on the pictures of YN’s bedroom as if they would wield together a logical story that would explain where she’d been this whole time.

Everyone in school had a crush on Namjoon. Smart Namjoon. Sweet Namjoon. Dimpled cheeks Namjoon. Girls and guys would swoon over him, talking about how they would love to feel his chest or sit on his thighs. They were all fools. Ah, yes, Kim Namjoon may look harmless but it's always the quiet ones you have to look out for.

It truly was a private practice, equipped with all sorts of equipment one might find in a typical emergency room. YN wondered why they would ever need something like that. Maybe high clientele? Though the closest things to celebrities that lived in this town were both Seokjin and Namjoon's families, then Jung's, and the Min's. Namjoon wasn't there when they first arrived but appeared quickly enough, the gentle smile on his face reminded YN of simpler times. "How are you?" It dawned on her then that was the first time she'd been asked the question. She'd been plagued by 'where were you?' 'how are you alive?' and 'I'm sorrys' since she'd woken up. No one ever thought to ask how she was.

“I’ve been better.” YN answered softly, afraid that if she spoke anymore, she would break down again. The men in the room seemed to read between the lines without her elaborating further. Seokjin squeezed her hand, “Well, I’ll give you two some privacy. I’ll be right outside if anything happens, okay?” Before YN could respond Jin once again kissed her forehead before walking away. Leaving her alone in the stark white room with Namjoon, who leaned against a medical bed. His left hand patting the space beside him, “Let’s talk YN.” She grimaced slightly. “You’re in a safe space YN. You know me I would never do anything to hurt you and Seokjin is right outside if you need him. We’re your family.”

Family. They had been a sort of family, the five of them: always hanging out, sharing stories, meals, and memories. It didn't matter that she was much younger or that the only reason she was tolerated was that Minsuh was dating Seokjin. They had always been kind, always been loving, always been there. Even when her actual family wasn't. They’re all I’ve got… at least until dad comes. Once she sat down the doctor offered a genuine smile, it reminded her of all the times the two would stay up late studying at the library. A warmth that eased away from the chill she'd had all day lead to the first genuine smile on her face, “Thanks Namjoon.”

“I told you to call me Joon remember?” His broad shoulder playfully brushed YN’s, before he began conducting his examinations.

“You know being clandestine isn’t your strong suit.” Kim Seokjin leaned against the black LeoVince Racer waiting for his friend to exit from the back of Namjoon's private practice. Min Yoongi looked like he hadn't slept for days and had the corners of his lips turned upward in a way that was half-way between a snarl and a smirk. "I'd beg to differ." Yoongi responded, approaching the man as he adjusted white medical papers into his jacket's hidden pockets.

Seokjin eyed them carefully, “If you’re caught with those you could face serious trouble.”

Yoongi laughed, “Who’s going to catch me? The sheriff?”

Seokjin rolled his eyes, empty threats and warnings weren’t going to change anything. “What do the papers say?” He tried to grab them, but Yoongi blocked his hand easily. Maneuvering Seokjin off his bike so he could get on it.

"Ask the doc or her. She doesn't keep secrets from you." Yoongi's eyes were cold and his voice lacked the playfulness present before. Seokjin knew better than to press his buttons any further, "Go before she sees you." Not that it mattered much, YN would be face to face with all of them soon - a reunion was inevitable. Nonetheless, Yoongi was a sore spot for her; the more Seokjin could delay their meeting the more things could go according to plan.

“So you’re officially a doctor?” YN asked as Namjoon finished up drawing the last of her blood. They'd done all types of x-rays, physical, and psychological examinations to check her well-being. No words had been shared between the two, but the silence was beginning to bother her.

“Well, yes and no. Still must finish my residency, but I have most of the hours done.” Namjoon replied nonchalantly.

Whenever the subject had come up before Namjoon had dreaded having to take over the family business, feeling it was a role he was being pushed into. Guess things have changed. “I thought you didn’t want to be a doctor.”

He shrugged in response, “I guess I finally understood why my dad loved it so much. Medicine, biology, psychology, chemistry are all things that are useful.”

“You became a doctor became because it was useful? That doesn’t make much sense.” YN chuckled as Namjoon placed a bandage on the inside of her arm. He chose not to reply immediately, instead, holding up a lollipop that was inside his pocket. She took it with little thought. “Little makes sense in life. Human beings are just inherent paradoxes.” Minsuh always said that. It was one of the things the two sisters never agreed on. Minsuh always argued that people could still technically be considered ‘good’ no matter what they did. YN disagreed. Can’t do bad things and still be a good person. Namjoon clapped his hands together, signaling they were done and proceeded to help YN off the bed.

“Thanks, Joon.” She shot him a smile which she hoped looked more sincere than it felt. Though tensions didn’t run as high with Namjoon as they did with the others, it didn’t mean it was smooth sailing. Namjoon, like always, understood exactly what she meant and didn’t push. “Of course, YN. Anything for you.” With the promise her results would be ready in a couple of days, he sent her back on her way.

When she exited Seokjin was waiting outside with a furrow on his brow. Now what? YN didn’t know where else to go from here, what else to do, it felt like she’d hit a roadblock. I could go back home. Was that place even home anymore? Without her family, furniture, memories – could she return, or would it be too painful? Was she even allowed to return? It had looked abandoned when she’d been inside, so certainly YN wasn’t trespassing.

“It’s okay YN. You can stay at mine until we figure something out. I wouldn’t want you out of my sight anyway, it’s dangerous.”

It didn’t sit right with her to rely on Seokjin so much – or be under the same roof as him – but she would be lying if she said it didn’t ease her anxiety. “You’ve already done so much. I couldn’t ask that of you.” Her hands were shaking as she said the words, but even if she wanted to say yes immediately. YN couldn’t be selfish.

“No, I haven’t. Trust me.”

Before YN could ask what he meant Seokjin took hold of her wrist gently pulling her to the car.

Jung Hoseok. Lovely Hoseok. Funny Hoseok. Sweet Hoseok. The boy whose smile lights up the sky and everyone just gravitates towards him. No one could ever dislike him. Mr. Popular always putting others before himself. Dear sweet Hobi is an angel sent from heaven, but he isn’t as innocent as he seems. People tend to forget Lucifer was god’s favorite before he fell from the sky.

“Honestly was it really necessary to put on this whole show?” Hoseok wiggled his wrists causing the handcuffs to jingle against the table. Taehyung’s face remained stoic as he proceeded to read from the file. “A bit strange isn’t that YLN YN returns when you just so happen to out of town, Mr. Jung.” His eyebrow arched highly, Hoseok would’ve laughed if not for the situation he was in. “No it isn’t. I take a family trip around this time every single year detective. I told this to the sheriff three years ago and I’ll repeat this now.” He leaned forward the mirth gone from his mouth, “I had nothing to do with what happened to YN. I wouldn’t hurt her or anyone else for that matter.” Hoseok sighed, leaning back on the uncomfortable chair. “Look officer, I know its procedure and the prime suspect is always the boyfriend, but it wasn’t me.”

Even if Taehyung doubted that with every fiber of his being, he had nothing else to go off on. Jung Hoseok’s alibis were airtight, had always been, not to mention it would be extremely out of character for him to harm a bug – much less orchestrate something to this degree. It had been reckless to ask for him to be picked up from the city, but today had been a long day and there were just too many coincidences for the investigator to ignore. “Very well Mr. Jung. You’re free to go but I suggest you don’t leave town on another family vacation any time soon.” He reached towards his belt, taking out the keys and uncuffing Hoseok. Taehyung was on a tight schedule anyway; it would only be a matter of time before the sheriff returned from his lunch break. Seeing his son’s best friend in handcuffs would only cause Taehyung to be even more reprimanded.

With the cuffs off him, Hoseok stood up, stretching his lithe limbs. "You used to call me Hyung remember? Back when you were desperate for Minsuh and you to be a thing." Taehyung recalled having felt the need to please her friends to get her to look twice at him. Where’s this coming from? Hoseok looked down at him with cold eyes, "You know we never blamed you for how you reacted to things ending Tae. Heartbreak can make a man go crazy after all." The tension in the room was palpable when suddenly a smile broke out on Hoseok's face. "Sorry, it was silly of me to bring that up. We were all kids after all." With that he walked away from the desk and opened the door, turning around just enough to wink at Taehyung before the door closed completely.

Hoseok felt his phone vibrate inside his pants and rolled his eyes, without even looking he knew who it was. Taking the phone out, he swiped right and immediately spoke. “Yah, you won’t believe what just fucking happened. Where are you anyway?”

“Sorry it isn’t much.” Seokjin apologized as he handed YN the pile of clothes. “Tomorrow we’ll go shopping for essentials.” YN shook her head, “Thanks, I don’t need much. My dad shouldn’t take too long in coming to get me anyway.” She placed the clothes on the banister in the bathroom, content to finally be able to shower and become clean. It had been a long day, some soap and water might not wash the pain away, but she could pretend it would. There was another thing weighing on her mind, a thought that would simply not go away. For as kind as Seokjin had always been with her, even he had his limits. This behavior felt a bit out of character with the person she knew – the one she remembered.

“Why are you doing all this Jin?”

The man in question froze as if stunned, "What do you mean?" His dark brows furrowed, his lips turning down into a grimace.

“Going to see me, Namjoon, letting me stay over. All of this,” she gestured to the bathroom which had been prepared with candles, bath bombs, and calming music. It’s out of character for you. Kim Seokjin had never really been the romantic type, caring yes, but not sentimental. “Is it out of guilt?” Is it out of pity? YN may not remember what happened the night she disappeared, but that summer would forever remain ingrained in her head. "Do you blame yourself for what happened?" Or are you doing this because you feel responsible? Which one was it? Maybe all of them combined?

Seokjin ran a hand through his hair, “Yes.” Without elaborating anymore, he walked out of the bathroom shutting the door behind him.

When YN walked out of the bathroom she felt much better. All of the day’s events had worn her thin and she was ready to head straight to bed, but not without seeking Seokjin out and confronting him. Yes? Yes, to what exactly? Everything? She hadn’t been able to find the house slippers she’d borrowed, so she traveled through the house and down the stairs barefoot. Barely making any sound. She could hear loud audio coming from the living room and voices on the other side where the library was. Though she could recognize Seokjin as one of the voices, her feet dragged her to the living room, nonetheless. Deeming it better to wait until he was done than interrupting what sounded like an important conversation.

The couch had been changed into a leather sectional angled towards the screen as had more of the décor. It looked less like a family home and more like a bachelor pad now if YN was honest. Seokjin the bachelor. He had always had someone attached to his side whether it be a dancer, cheerleader, private school girl, and eventually her sister. What about you? YN shook her head, wanting the thought to disappear as quickly as it had appeared. The television distracted her once she picked up on what was being said. It was a newsreel showing a bleached blonde with shiny hair and pouty lips holding a microphone. Behind him was YN’s home, or what used to be, in the dead of the night it looked eerie. After basic introductions the news anchor began speaking:

“Three years ago, the town was rocked by the disappearance of YN YLN. A bright young girl who had dreams of attending university and becoming a nurse. YN was a kind, shy, studious girl who kept to herself and never caused any troubles associated with teens her age. Imagine her loved ones surprised when she disappears one night from bed - never to be seen again. The strangest part was that all her belongings had been taken, all the photos with her present disappeared, and all her social medias were deleted. Perhaps most peculiar was the only substantial evidence found by investigators was wet sand found at the foot of her bed.”

“Try as they investigators could find nothing that could tell them what had happened to YN. Then a year later tragedy struck once more when on the anniversary of YN’s disappearance, YLN Minsuh – her older sister - took her and her mother’s life in a murder suicide. YN’s father who was present that night managed to survive. Many people took this to be an admission of guilt on the sister’s part, for the two had never had the best relationship. Though with no note, the case had no choice to remain open. Thankfully for a miracle would occur. Almost three years to the day, YN has returned to the exact spot of her disappearance. Residents and audiences nationally are overjoyed, and hope justice can now be served. Stay tuned as this tragic twisted tale continues to unfold. We’ll now switch back over to Bo for sports.”

A piercing wail left YN’s mouth as she collapsed to the floor. Immediately, she was scooped off the ground into a warm embrace. “Jin?” She cried, but when she met the eyes of her savior the round hazel she was expecting was instead met with sharp feline ones. "Yoongi?!"

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