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visd3stele · 4 years ago

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Remus image - angst & fluff

*mostly angst with a tinsy bit of fluff

*forced marriage trope

summary: you're a Slytherin pure blood dating Remus Lupin, but your family has other plans

TW: none

A/N: any thoughts and opinions are welcomed. I'd love your reviews. Requests are open, too, if any of you are interested in that

masterlist

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

You're staring at the high ceiling, wide awake and way past the middle of the night. In your hands, an envelope is twitching with every move of your fingers, twisting its corners anxiously. You received it at dinner that night, the letter from your family. And wisely waited until the privacy of your room to open it. Around you, pure bloods Slytherins were sound asleep. You made sure not to let any emotion show, on your face or voice. Something everyone in between the walls of the Slytherin residence could most likely do.

You read it once. Then again and again until each word, each letter carved its mark in your brain. Carefully, you folded it back, wrapping it in the thick layer of the envelope. Despite having stopped reading it, the news your family dropped on you kept on repeat in your mind. Over and over and over. Marriage. They found you a perfect, pure blood spouse to marry. No matter that you were still in school. And only sixteen. And already having a boyfriend.

But of course, that last part might be exactly why your blood supremacist family decided to take your love life in their hands at last. For you were dating Remus Lupin, head boy of Griffindor. Involuntarily your lips moved upward at the mere thought of him. The way his soft brown hair feels under your palms when he lays his head in your lap in the afternoon – that is when you convince him to take a break from learning for a change. Your smiled deepened. The way his scarred hands stroke your face right before he leans in to kiss you. You blushed in the dark. The way his eyes sparkle after one of the Marauders notorious pranks. The way he rolls his eyes and leave a snarky comments to any Slytherin who mock your relationship and how it only masks his own fears and self doubts.

Now you were crying. You'll have to break up with him. You'll have to break up with him without bringing the marriage up. You didn't want him to think back on what could have been years after. It's better if he thinks there is no chance anymore to be with you. And you had to do it quick. News spread in the pure blood community and risking lying about your parents intention only to fool yourself a bit longer with stolen happy times was as self destructive as it can get at this point.

You slipped your body on one side. And tossed. The envelope fell off your bed. You didn't bother to pick it up. But someone did. You felt it rather than hear it, someone picking it up and placing it on your nightstand.

" 'Morning," that sweet voice you loved so much whispered. And you snapped your head towards it in shock. Only to find a very uncomfortable Remus Lupin, switching from leg to leg, smiling awkwardly at you.

"It's five in the morning." He stated before you could find your words through the foggy veil of your thoughts. "And the sunrise is about to start..." Remus went on, looking anywhere but at you.

More tears sting your eyes, threatening to slide down your cheeks and getting completely out of your control. Here he was, your perfect boyfriend, sneaking in your bedroom to take you to see the sunrise. For you, this boy defined romance and no amount of scars, secret disappearances on the full moon and mysteries surrounding it could change that. You were more than willing to give him time, let him open up to you when he feels like it. After all, he has great friends to share secrets with and you wouldn't get in between them.

Biting your lips, you closed the distance and hugged him tight. After less than a second of hesitation, Remus put his hands around you as well. You needed it, the proximity, the safety, the warmth and love. When you were sure your voice won't break, you breathed a question to him. "And how are you planning to sneak me out?"

Remus saw right through your attempt. He pulled back a little, enough to brush his fingers over your swollen face. "Have you been crying?" Worry clouded those beautiful brown eyes. You shook your head, snatching yourself from him and desperately wiping your tears. You should do it now. Tell him it's over. Spare him – and yourself – for the pain and torture of stretching it longer. It was time to face it: your relationship was doomed from the start.

But you couldn't. Not yet. Just a little more time, you bargained with yourself. Just that sunrise together. One last date. You promised to no one. So you made yourself swallow and said instead "My family," dismissing any further remarks.

Remus pulled you back into his lean body, long arms the only thing holding you together. He needed no other explanation. Thanks to that friend of his, Sirius, Remus knew exactly what those two words meant coming from a pure blood kid. He pressed a kiss on top of your head, caressing your back in soothing large circles. Voice dipped with concern, he asked "Do you want to talk about it or do you want me to distract you?"

"What about taking me to see that sunrise you mentioned and we'll figure it out from there?"

He nodded, led you to the now slightly opened window and motioned for his broom flying within reach.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

The sun beamed from between rare clouds, spread amongst a royal blue sky. Orange light crowned the ascending golden disc, fading into a soft purple and light pink at its edges. The curtain of morning mist broke the rays in matt bliss, wrapping around your entangled figures.

A wet coldness flew on with the tentative mist, but Remus planned everything ahead, it seemed. He had a wool blanket at ready, different bits and pieces of clothing, threads and patches sewed together.

"Don't tell me you picked up knotting, Moony." You didn't know when it happened, but you had taken on calling him by the silly nickname his friends did.

"No. My mother made it, actually." The scar on his lip pulled up as he patted the spot next to him. He had laid a blanket on the freshly cut grass near the Black Lake and held his mother's gift in a silent invitation.

You snuggled in, circling his waist with your arms and nuzzled your nose in the crook of his neck. "Y/n!" he exclaimed, a shiver running through him at the contact with your cold skin. You sent him a grin that had nothing to do with apologies and you both snickered before turning awe filled eyes to the sunrise.

Remus let his own head lean down on your own, brown hair slightly brushing your forehead. His hand found its way to yours and as your fingers laced together he rubbed his thumb on top of your palm.

Content silence settled in. Only birds dared sing a sharp note once in a while. Your boyfriend knew how to choose a date spot, you were more than happy to give him that. The marvelous sight the sky presented doubled in the lake's still waters. Calmness washed over you. Here and now, with Remus' hand in yours, your head resting on his shoulder, everything pieced into place.

You turned your face, meeting the warn off material of his shirt and placed a kiss there. Lifting your lips upward, you kissed his exposed neck as well. Then his cheek, lingering close to his lips before stopping to murmur "I love you, Remus Lupin! So, so much."

He met your lips with his own and you were thankful he said nothing about the pang in your voice. "And I you, my darling." His glittering eyes, filled with adoration and care, were too much for your heart to bear. It was all you could do to close your eyelids tight and press into his side even more.

"Is something wrong, y/n?" Remus asked, shifting his arm to welcome your new position.

"No. Nothing. Just overwhelmed by everything I feel for you." And in a way, it was true. Not the whole truth, but as you couldn't give him that...

An unsure smiled played on your lips. He brought your face to his again, laying a kiss on your nose. You scrunch it up and made a face at him. He tried to bit back his laugh, but failed as a bundle of it escaped in a soft breath, tingling your flushed cheeks.

Remus kissed you again, this time on the bridge of your nose. Which earned him a giggle and a wide smile. Bringing your hands to his face, you cupped his cheeks and touched your noses together.

"We're missing the sunrise. And you put so much effort in this."

"Hmmm," he mused, leaning in your touch. "The sun does much of the work, to be fair." You burst in laughing at that, shaking your forehead against his.

You two traded more kisses – and then some more, bathed in the dawn light of a new day.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

"Where have you been?" You heard James Potter asked your boyfriend when you bumped in him and the rest of the Marauders in the hall.

Peter waved at you, while Sirius gave you a knowing smirk at which you rolled your eyes. Truth be told, their demand wasn't misplaced. You and Remus didn't show up at breakfast, and run late for the first class.

"Down at the lake, Prongs. I should know better than to ask for notes, right?"

"Not to worry, Moony, you didn't miss much."

You left Remus to his friends, brushing your lips to his as a form of good-bye. You headed to your room. Thoughts swirled in your mind, flying by so fast you barely registered them. You passed Narcissa and Lucius on your way. They have been married since year four, something you found very unsettling. At that time, you belittled Narcissa for not fighting off her families wishes, like her sister and cousin. But now, that you found yourself in her place? You started to understand. To understand that courage is not so easy to haul up from whatever pit it lays dormant in one's being.

So lost in thoughts, you haven't noticed the guy sitting on your bed until he spoke, voice laced with disgust. "You better kick that sorry excuse of a wizard away before we make our engagement public, honey."

You startled. "Who...?"

"Why, your new husband, of course."

"Future husband. And Remus is a fine wizard, greater than you could ever hope to be."

The stranger only rolled his eyes and huffed. "Whatever you say, honey. Just make him gone by noon. I have plans for us before the ceremony."

A ceremony that would take place in a few months, once summer blooms, you realized, dread chilling your blood in your veins. The tight line of your lips followed your betrothed until he left and swiped the door close.

Noon. Break up with Remus by noon. Make it look like it's over because there is no love anymore. Let him think you choose this smug, full of himself, brainless, boorish brute over him. It's the right course of action. So you told yourself. And so you did. Any hope for standing up against your family gone.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

Wind howling outside, rain pouring, you thought the weather mocked you. It just happened to turn gloomy and morbid all of a sudden, when you were about to break the heart of the most precious boy in the whole school. And yours too in the progress.

"Remus, can we talk for a second?"

"Sure, what is it?" He turned his whole focus on you, dropping mid conversation with his mates about whatever prank they were up to next.

"Moony!" three offended sighs followed you as you dragged Remus to a more private spot. The way he no more than waved at his friends, giving all up for you, knowing you had a bad day, strung a painful chord in your soul. You did not deserve this boy. Maybe the wedding was a good thing after all.

"Hey, y/n, talk to me," Remus whispered when you came to a halt. His fingers searched for yours, trying to turn you around to face him. "Whatever it is, you can tell me. I'm here for you. We'll fix it."

"No." You said, and cursed your weak voice. You still didn't face him. "No we won't fix this." You spoke again, this time with more surety, allowing a sharp edge to it.

Bless his too kind soul, he didn't balk away. Instead, he took one stop forward, resting his head on your spine and bringing his long arms around you. "Everything's gonna be fine, y/n. I promise."

It took a superhuman effort to break free of his embrace. And you finally swirled to meet his soft brown eyes. Tears rolled down, dripping from your chin, but you didn't let him comfort you. Shacking your head, you took another step back, building distance between you, as if the following words would hurt less that way.

"Everything's not gonna be fine, Remus. Not with us. Not anymore."

For a couple seconds, he stared at you, confusion painting his beautiful features. Then, realization sunk in. And in that moment, you were sure nothing could ever hurt you as badly as his pain struck expression. His parted lips, moving in vain to form words that doesn't exist. His frenzy eyes, looking all over yourself, searching for any sign of a cruel joke. For a trace that you weren't being serious. Eyes that begin to water when he found none.

But he refuse to let the tears flow. Remus led his stare to a dark, far away corner of the empty hall. Heat colored his face, a light shade of pink that not even the cool from the open window couldn't beat down. "So that's why you were distant this morning?" Your boyfriend asked, bitterly even as his voice was small, lost. "That's why you avoided me all day and didn't look me in the eye once, more than a passing moment?"

You knew better than answer. You had nothing to say anyway. "I'm sorry, Remus. I've been meaning to tell you earlier..."

A razor sharp laugh bit your words off. "But you took pity on the poor half-blood."

No, no it wasn't like that, you wanted to say. Those remained only thoughts as you wiped your face and crossed your arms to keep them from reaching out. Reaching out to him, reassure him, hug him. Whatever he believed, you'd roll with it. If he thought you an evil pure blood, then fine! You'll be that.

An image of your mother's face, lips curled in disgust at the last Quidditch match when Slytherin lost again in favor of Gryffindor, served as model for the expression you forced your own face into.

"I didn't want it to be like this. Goodbye, Remus Lupin."

You turned. And left. Just left. You kept your back straight as you walked away from the boy who tickled your heart. Who placed feather light kissed on your cheeks, and nose and forehead for days into your relationship, too shy to initiate something more without your worded agreement. The wizard who helped you with assignments, not thinking anything less of you when you weren't perfect. Who let you fall asleep in his lap at Hogwarts' few parties that you couldn't stand due to your family. This guy who gave you everything you were too afraid to dream of. And you just walked away, as if couldn't be bothered to care.

His fist thrumming once on the hallway's wall filled your ears, a sound forever carved in your brain. The thud that followed, of him sliding down on the floor you guessed, printed an image in your mind you'll pray to forget. Remus' silent sobs, though, almost made you turn around and run towards him.

You didn't so much as cast a glance back, knowing what you'll see and too much of a coward to bear it. His body shaking with crying, knees cradled to up to his chest where his chin digged in, covered by lean arms with palms crossed over his head.

His friends would find him. They'd help him. Remus will move over and forget you. Each sentence was another step. Each step, another crack in your heart. By the time you reached your room, collapsed in your bed and twisted in a similar position to your boyfriend's – ex boyfriend. It made you understand, showed you far too clearly why he'd sit like that. The pure devastation and despair, the attempt to contain a hollowness within, to replace a part where a whole, happy heart used to beat.

You broke Remus Lupin's heart. And yours was just as shattered. And there was no going back from it now.

PART 2

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stiltonbasket · 4 years ago

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how my love springs deep

by stiltonbasket

(read here on AO3!)

Summary:

My Lan Zhan, his husband calls him. Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan.

Or, the one where Wei Wuxian feeds rabbits, and Lan Wangji reads a love letter.

(brief a/n: this fic was inspired by this heartbreaking work of beauty by @pakhnokh--I had to write Lan Wangji getting adored after witnessing it, come join me on the angst parade T~T)

____

My Lan Zhan,

It has been two years and more since I last wrote you a letter, for marriage has joined us both at the hip, and ensured that we are never more than a touch or a cry away from one another. I have you by me always, in every hour of every day; and every love-word that crosses my mind finds its way to my lips in the very moment of its birth, and reaches your ears just as quickly, for I could no more keep silent in my devotion to you than swim the full length of the Songhuajiang against the current. And so I go about my days hence, calling “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, my Lan Zhan” all the while: but today I have woken before chenshi, and you are still asleep beside me with Xiao-Yu in your arms, and though my every nerve and vein is aching for love of my husband, I cannot bear to wake you to say so.

Lan Zhan, sweetheart—when we were first married, you told me once that I colored the world for you the instant we met, and brought every shade of the rainbow with me from Yunmeng to make the Cloud Recesses beautiful. You said that the air that touched me at the gate smelt as if lightning had passed through it, and that the very stones I knelt on in the lanshi’s courtyard began to glitter after I departed, though they had never done such a thing before—and that the Cloud Recesses itself, having been a place of peace and reflection before my arrival, was filled with delight and warmth after my coming, as if that first day was the dawn after a long, long night, and I the sun who gifted it to you.

Heaven knows I had no equal words with which to worship you then, my darling, for I was young and still bewildered to know that you loved me. But I have been your husband for nearly three years now, and so I must tell you this—you have driven me mad for love of you, Lan Zhan, and it has been so since we first crossed swords on the rooftop gate when we were eighteen.

How mad, you ask? The classics say that love is a proper, courtly thing, to be shown with modesty before others and in its full force only in confidence. But I have never been proper, and so I must tell you that if you were a flint and steel, seeking only to light a flame and a tinder-heap to light it in, I would take form as a sun-parched forest, and set myself afire at your touch so that I might be beside you thus. If you were a god, roaming the heavenly kingdoms while my mortal flesh kept me constrained below, I would take the habit of a priest and devote myself to your prayer; and if you were a grain of sand in the Gebi desert, and I a traveler sick with thirst, I would fall to my knees and sift through every dune and basin to find you before drinking even a drop of water.

If I were freezing in the great mountains above Gusu, whose peaks are lush in the springtime but shrouded in snow in the winter, I would be well and happy if I had the warmth of your hand in mine; and when I am in my jishi, with the doors thrown open to let in the wind, I drop my knives and tools at the sound of your voice and stand there enraptured until you fall silent again. My heart nearly beats out of my body with everything you say, and everything you do; and when you look at me I lose all knowledge of speech and reason, recalling nothing but your name and your smiles unless some show of wit is necessary—which it very well might be, with you and I being what we are, and all our doings riddled with puzzles that would have bewildered even the scholars who founded our clan.

Lan Zhan, I love you so desperately that to be away from you is torment, and to be with you has always been paradise, even when you were sitting on one side of the library pavilion and reading Lan An’s poetry, and I was on the other with my brush and parchment, pretending to copy lines while I sketched a portrait of you and painted flowers into your hair. You have made me more your own with every passing day, though in every moment I fully belong to you, and there is no strangeness in it—as if new pieces of my spirit are formed shichen by shichen, and bound unto you before drawing their first breaths.

I could go on endlessly, xingan, and exhaust even the lanshi’s stocks of paper in my adoration—but it will soon be breakfast time, and the hens have not been fed, nor the eggs collected, and neither have the rabbits been given their greens. I must go and tend to them now; only wait for me, and I will be back at your side again before you have time to miss me.

Ever yours, my husband—

Wei Ying.

P.S.—I left a pot of ginger porridge on the table by the bed, if you should wake and be hungry before I return. There is only a little, since the rest is still cooking in the kitchen, and you and A-Yu will still have an appetite for breakfast if you finish it all.

_____

After Lan Wangji wakes and reads the folded letter on his bedside table, he scarcely glances at the tiny blue pot of ginger congee before stumbling out of bed and putting his shoes on. He is dressed in nothing but a thin white undergown, since he gave up dressing warmly at night when he first began sleeping beside Wei Ying; but he does not bother putting on a coat, and pauses only long enough to tuck a sleepy Xiao-Yu back under the covers before bounding out of the jingshi and hurrying downhill in his nightshirt.

“Wei Ying!” he calls, when he passes the tidy chicken pen—home to ten brown hens, which Lan Wangji brought to the Cloud Recesses as a gift for Wei Ying before they were married—and finds the chickens pecking away in the yard, eating grains of fresh corn that had clearly just been thrown out by Wei Ying’s dear hands. But Wei Ying must have finished collecting the eggs, and gone on towards the warded field on the fringes of the bamboo forest to scatter vegetables for the rabbits; so Lan Wangji presses on, running with the wind at his back and the sharp pebbles underfoot almost piercing through his slippers. He reaches the rabbit field in less than a minute, careening between stalks of bamboo like a man possessed, and throws himself at Wei Ying so forcefully that he knocks his husband backwards into the soft grass at their feet.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying wheezes, as his lettuce basket flies out of his hand and lands near the entrance to a burrow: mercifully, the basket of eggs must have been set aside somewhere else before Wei Ying arrived to feed the rabbits. “Lan Zhan, sweetheart, what are you doing here? Is Xiao-Yu—?”

“Do not worry. Xiaohui is still asleep,” Lan Wangji assures him, bringing Wei Ying’s sun-warmed hands to his mouth and kissing them. “I came to find you because I read your letter.”

Wei Ying smiles, beaming from ear until Lan Wangji finds himself gasping for breath at the beauty of the sight before him. “I thought you must have. You were cuddled up against me when I woke up, and you were holding Xiao-Yu between us to keep him warm...and I couldn’t help it, Lan Zhan! You were so sweet that my heart could scarcely bear it, so of course I had to write it down for you.”

“Perhaps I should take up the habit of writing you love letters,” muses Lan Wangji, kissing Wei Ying’s delighted grin straight from his lips. “What do you think, xingan?”

“I think that waking to find you beside me every morning already brings me so much joy I could burst, darling. If you really did start leaving love letters for me to find, I would fold myself into your arms and never come out again.”

“Mm, perhaps you would. But that would please me greatly, so I suppose I will have to do it.”

His husband pinches his cheek. “Lan Zhan!”

“I am listening, beloved. With all my heart.”

Wei Ying covers his face and tries to roll out of Lan Wangji’s grasp, wriggling about six inches away before Lan Wangji takes him by the waist and draws him back. “Lan Zhan,” he wails, as a couple of baby rabbits hop up onto Lan Wangji’s back. “You can’t say such things, you silly man! See how my face is burning, look!”

“I’m looking,” Lan Wangji teases, tracing Wei Ying’s red cheeks with the pads of his own pale fingers. “I am always looking. I love my husband dearly, and he is very beautiful to look at.”

“Well, my husband is not so young as he used to be. Perhaps he is mistaken.”

“Oh?” He punctuates the inquiry with another searing kiss, pulling Wei Ying up into his arms and holding him so close that he can feel the stutter of his breathing, and his pulse beating quickly against Lan Wangji’s wrist. “Do you really think so?”

But the only reply Wei Ying gives him is a tender look that shakes Lan Wangji down to his jindan, and leaves him struggling for air all over again as Wei Ying wraps his arms around him.

In the end, they do not leave the clearing until nearly half an hour later; the grass is as comfortable a cushion as two sweethearts could want, and the rabbits keep leaping around them and making Wei Ying laugh, so they lie there, cheek to cheek and chest to chest until they remember Xiao-Yu, all by himself in the jingshi with no one to hear him cry if he wakes up frightened to find himself alone.

The thought of their son has Lan Wangji leaping to his feet with Wei Ying’s hand in his, and then they bolt back towards the house and retrieve the basket of eggs on the way, running nearly fast enough to outstrip Wen Ning at his swiftest before Wei Ying throws the doors open and barrels into the bedroom.

“A-Yu!” he calls, letting out a shout of laughter as Lan Wangji comes jogging up behind him. “Xiao-Yu, baobei, what are you doing?”

“I’m eating ginger porridge,” Xiao-Yu chirps. The little lotus-shaped pot of congee is nestled snugly in his arms, and A-Yu is eating out of it with the large spoon Wei Ying left behind for Lan Wangji. “Papa and A-Niang went out, so Xiao-Yu is having breakfast.”

“Aiyah, Xiao-Yu,” Wei Ying groans, taking the pot away from A-Yu and wiping his dirty face with a handkerchief. “That was for you and Papa, sweetheart, since I was going to be late back. How will you eat your breakfast properly now?”

“But A-Yu is still hungry,” the little boy insists, trying to grab the spoon. “A-Niang, let me finish?”

“Wait a little longer,” scolds Wei Ying. “I still have to cook the rest of the porridge with steamed dan, and make chicken soup to go with it. Now be a good child and go with Papa to take your bath, and breakfast will be ready when you finish dressing.”

Xiao-Yu nods and jumps off the bed, scurrying off towards the washroom on the other side of the house, and leaves his parents to embrace each other once again before they part to attend to their own duties.

“What do you want this afternoon, qinai?” Lan Wangji murmurs, as Wei Ying’s head falls onto his shoulder. “The tradesmen ought to have sent up the day’s groceries by now, so I will make lunch while you teach your talisman class.”

Wei Ying blinks, very slowly, and then he stands up on his toes and plants one last, lingering kiss between Lan Wangji’s eyebrows.

“Teach my talisman class with me,” he entreats. “When we get back, we can make lunch together.”

(And so they do, and just like all the other dishes Lan Wangji has shared with Wei Ying, that afternoon’s luncheon tastes fresher and sweeter than every meal before it.)

#wangxian #the untamed #mo dao zu shi #lan wangji #wei wuxian #my fic #i was heartbroken i had to take ACTION #*sobs*#please check it out on ao3 if you can!

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dirt-cup-draco · 4 years ago

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Cedric Diggory x Reader- Due Time

Hello! Is it okay if I request something with Cedric with a Hufflepuff!Reader (or any house of your choice ) where cedric really likes the reader and leaves notes/love letters for her anonymously and reader is just really skeptical about it and weeks after that he wants to meet up and just fluff? Idk work your magic, do what's more necessary, I love you!

“That’s the third one in two weeks, isn’t it?” Hannah giggled, leaning over your shoulder as Susan peaked at the letter for just a moment before returning to her laid-back position in the arm chair she had claimed was hers on this rainy Sunday afternoon.

“Mhmm,” You confirmed, eyebrows drawn to the center of your forehead as you wondered who could possibly be sending these over-the-top declarations of adoration. It wasn’t so much the contents that were over-the-top, but the fact that the letters hadn’t stopped coming since October and you were edging your way into April. The writing was unfamiliar to you even though you’d been sneaking glances at as many people’s essays and notes- anything that would give you a hint, really- as you could.

The first letter had come to you on one of the worst days of your life. You felt at the time that it had been a friend anonymously sending you something just to cheer you up. The contents had been kind, generous even, but friendly and you hadn’t seen it is a love letter.

Y/N, it had read, the sun has gone missing with the summer months but I don’t miss it much when I see you smile. Take care.

It had been more of a note than a letter but it had still been folded neatly and left in an envelope. Somehow it had found it’s way into your bag and it was part of the reason you had assumed that either Hannah or Susan had left it. Even Hermione had been a thought. You were older than the Gryffindor but you two often studied together and she always seemed to know how to cheer you up when you entered the library looking more like a dark cloud than a person.

However, you had inquired with every friend, hoping you could find them and thank them somehow, but everyone had denied it- even going as far as to show you their handwriting when you felt at a loss for finding your anonymous bit of belief. After that, the note had morphed into letters and the words read more like a love-sick poet than a friend offering support on your hardest days.

“Why’ve you always got to frown Y/N?” Hannah pouted, bottom lip wobbling. “It’s just so lovely and you look like someone has sent you a ransom letter instead. They haven’t got anyone hostage, they just think you’re cute,”

“No, they think she’s ‘brighter than a summer sun and more beautiful than spring’s first bloomed rose’” Susan giggled from her seat, shooting you a wink as the apple of your cheeks grew warm.

“I’m not frowning,” You scowled at Hannah, disproving your point immediately, “I would just like to meet them. Their letters are very kind but it’s been months now and I’ve begun to wonder if they will actually ever speak to me,”

Hannah couldn’t seem to argue with this so you folded up the most current letter and shoved it into your bag as the bell tolled and reminded you that you needed to run halfway across the castle to make it to your next class. With a goodbye thrown over your shoulder, you vanished out of the room.

Cedric hadn’t been eavesdropping, he’d just been conveniently in the common room with you as you opened the letter that he had enchanted to float into your bag as you focused on McGonagall in transfiguration. He made the letter float laps around the classroom, out of the professors sharp and watchful eye, to make sure that no one could say where the letter originated from if Y/N inquired about it.

He couldn’t help but smile as he watched your cheeks go rosy with Susan’s painfully accurate quote from his letter and he felt a bit embarrassed himself but he couldn’t regret it. He meant every word and you ought to be told as often as possible how truly radiant and wonderful you were.

What made him pause, as you left the common room, was that you wanted to meet the author of these letters. You were right of course, he knew he could only send so many letters until you began to grow bored or even annoyed with the lengthy display of literary affection. Words of affirmation was how Cedric Diggory showed love and nothing could stop him from showing he cared for you.

You knew each other, quite well actually, and so he wasn’t a complete coward he told himself. You two had conversations when the fancy struck and when he could get his tongue untied. Sometimes you’d find him half asleep in the common room and you’d shake him awake requesting he go to his bedroom for the night out of care but he would linger and ask about your day and the two of you would chat until far later than either of you had intended.

Other times he would find you, head bent over a textbook as you sat beneath your favorite tree near the edge of the black lake. He teased one of these days the squid would come and grab your textbook from you but you’d just roll your eyes at him and pat the grass beside you, knowing he had a free period when you did.

It was in the interactions he had grown to love every bit of you and he only wanted to learn more every time he got to be in your presence.

Cedric swallowed the lump in his throat as he heard Hannah and Susan giggle, wondering who this mystery admirer could be. “He ought to hurry up and speak to her already, Y/N seems half ready to strangle whoever has been sending her those letters,”

He knew that wasn’t true, Y/N wouldn’t hurt a fly. Yet, they were correct in that he needed to borrow a bit of gryffindor courage and come clean. A sudden thought struck fear deep into his stomach. What if someone else saw Y/N in the same golden light? Would they tell her that they had been the ones to write the words that came from his heart and his heart alone? That had decided it for him. He would tell Y/N that night.

“Y/N?” you heard from your left, head buried in your arms as you rested on top of one of the tables in your common room. You hadn’t been asleep or studying, just thinking. Thinking of papers due, love letters, and the weather. Thinking of the rotation of the earth and how you weren’t really sure what made an animagus and what made a werewolf even though you were certain it was simple and you should have learned it long ago. Thinking of everything and nothing.

“Oh, yes, sorry Ced,” You mumbled, bleary eyes focusing on the boy who had taken a seat beside you. You let yourself take a moment to fall into the depth of his eyes. He had such caring eyes. Yes, the popular hufflepuff was quite the looker but he was far more than that and you had had the pleasure of speaking with him some during the school year. You considered him a friend and you hoped he did too, seeing as he had been the one to approach you.

“Everything okay?” You asked, stifling a yawn and looking around you to see that your fellow housemates had left the common room while you had been lost in all of your thoughts and non-thoughts.

“Yeah!” He replied a bit too cheery, voice pitching towards the end. Cedric winced and your eyebrows crinkled in that familiar way that made him want to smooth the lines away and ask what was worrying you. His stomach flipped comfortably and he let out an easier breath.

“Yeah,” He tried again, more relaxed. “Just wanted to talk to you ‘bout something, actually,”

“Oh?” You perked up, sleep falling from your eyes as you became more alert. Worry settled in your gut. Was Cedric certain everything was okay? You couldn’t bear thinking anything was wrong but you were honored that if something was wrong he wanted to come speak with you.

“Yes, I have something for you,” The boy tried to keep his tone even but he couldn’t but feel some excitement swirl in his gut. He knew it was the right thing to tell you now and this seemed a good way to do it. Tugging a crisp envelope from his pocket he handed it to you and watched confusion paint over your worried expression.

“Open it,” He encouraged.

“But it looks like-” You caught yourself, staring down at the familiar envelope. Surely Cedric couldn’t be the one sending you such attentive letters? You didn’t interact as often as once a day even if you would like to. You told yourself you were being silly and hopeful, your friend just had something to show you and you were letting the letters get in the way of that.

To cover up your hesitation you opened the envelope eagerly, unfolding the paper to find a familiar scrawl. Your heart flipped and your stomach flew.

Hogsmeade this weekend?

The option to check a box labelled yes sat beside another identical box labelled no and you stared with wide and startled eyes at Cedric.

“You mean you were the one?” You croaked, eyes growing glossy. Putting a face to the letters made them mean exponentially more. Such kind eyes, such a kind heart.

“Y-yeah,” Cedric breathed out, hand skating nervously against the back of his neck. “Just wanted to cheer you up one day when you looked down but then we started talking more and I just needed you to know how brilliant you are otherwise I’d explode but I was too nervous to tell you and well... I just kept writing and didn’t stop.”

“Oh Ced,” You gasped, realization dawning on you. “You heard me in the common room earlier? I never meant to pressure you-”

“No, no, Y/N,” He chuckled, his hand reaching for your arm before bashfulness overtook him and he pulled away. “It was time I said something, but....”

He trailed off meaningfully, eyes downcast and you followed his gaze to the unchecked boxes.

“Oh!” you giggled, that familiar red crawling up your neck to the tips of your ears. Grabbing your quill you checked a box, drying the ink with a spell before folding the parchment and putting it back inside the envelope. Standing, you handed Cedric the letter and brushed a daring kiss to his cheek before you ran upstairs leaving him absolutely giddy and more than confused.

After shaking himself from his reverie, he tore at the envelope and noticed a neat X trapped within the confines of the box titled Yes.

Cedric couldn’t fight the grin that spread from ear to ear and you were upstairs battling the same problem of a too-wide smile. It was long overdue he said something and you were more than happy he had.

You both fell asleep as the sun started to lighten the world outside your drawn curtains. It would come back to bite the both of you once classes started but neither of you could get your upcoming Hogsmeade date out of mind. When you caught his eye during breakfast you knew that your sleepless night had been well worth it.

#credric x reader #cedric diggory x reader #fluff #request #all of you anons are lovely and I appreciate your patience #and my non-anons #you are all brilliant #Cedric x hufflepuff!reader

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ggyuwwoo · 4 years ago

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heaven's cloud : Paradise

- in the afterlife where we get to choose our own paradise, two souls unexpectedly meet.

genre: soulmates!au, but also involves idolverse, kinda fantasy whimsical, afterlife-paradise world; fem!reader x lee chan warnings: mentions of death, magical creatures, not really sure what else i guess word count: 2.4k + i generally am not good at making these infos, bear with me sorry! also not really fond of the fic picture, but i also suck and still is learning,,,,

next | masterlist

Lee Chan, for your exemplary journey in life, you are hereby bestowed a place in Paradise.

"I'll take the clouds if I may,"

Then to the clouds you shall ascend, Heaven's Cloud.

Eleven months of (not) living in paradise, Chan had adapted well into his afterlife. The Guides had placed him in his own haven of his choosing, the Clouds. Fluffy white and softer than cashmere, the touch is cooling and healing, peace and quiet were also a given. To Chan, it's his very definition of heaven.

Despite being the only soul - apparently, no one has chosen the Clouds for centuries - Chan has been never alone. He had the little fairies and spirits to keep him company while wandering around the forests. Stars often appear in his nights to cast a light show for the boy. Cancer loves to see Chan's awe-stricken face as the constellation shows him a few tricks.

The Clouds inhabitants and surrounding astronomical beings grew fond of the boy. Hence, Lee Chan never felt alone.

Though it was a blissful experience and a beautiful memory, there was only one month left. One month until the end of his livelihood above the world.

You will be given twelve months of afterlife until your next life begins.

Chan still doesn't understand why they must be sent back to Earth, living another full life that may or may not be 'great'. Though the thought of living on Earth, whatever their life might be, is already a disappointing thought. After having to exist in a paradise of your own, nothing else would come close.

But apparently, the universe believes differently.

The fairies and spirits told him once, 'Universe sought in a cycle, to them it's the perfect way as it does not end, leading to the continuation of life and its purposes.'

"But what exactly do those purposes serve if there is no end to it?"

'There is none silly, if there was to be an end to it, then life itself would cease to exist. It serves to preserve life as we know it, and well - the Universe.'

Chan pondered the thought for a while, "What if, just really hypothetically, someone happens to break the cycle, what happens then?"

The fairies' expression saddened, 'Hopefully it never happens.' Some of them flew to sit on Chan's shoulder, a calming place for them. 'But if it were to happen somehow, life wouldn't perish instantly, but the Universe and everything in it will meet its end, including the afterlife.'

The boy nodded before noticing the frowns on the beautiful faces of the winged creatures, the atmosphere had taken a drop turn. Choosing to lighten the somber mood, Chan raised another question. "Well then, um, what about aliens? Do they exist?”

Throughout the time he was there, Chan spent it listening to the stories of the creatures, exploring the cloud haven that seemingly doesn't end, and conversing every now and then with the astronomical beings -- when they so happened to be passing by.

It didn't get boring for the boy as the stories that the fairies had been plenty and new, never losing the interest of Chan, and the beings were more than happy to talk with him about almost anything.

Of course, all this was okay and fine, revealing the Universe's secrets and whatnot, Chan wouldn't remember this anyway when he enters his next life.

On the first day of his twelfth month, Chan woke up from his sleeping quarters in the usual well-rested sleep. Walking out to do his routine of visiting the forest and later on relaxing by the Serenity Sky Lake. But before he could reach the outlines of White Forest, he saw a figure walking through the field, he couldn't see clearly who it was, but what he registered in his mind was enough to make him gasp.

It was another soul. A human.

As quickly as his feet could take him, Chan sped through the flurry landscape of clouds, wanting to figure out this stranger.

"Hey you! Hey!"

The figure turned to the general direction of where Chan was coming from, revealing its appearance. Upon view, Chan stumbled over nothing, causing him to fall forward into a roll and tumbling on the ground until he laid flat on his back. Luckily, there were clouds under him.

"Oh my God! Are you okay?" He heard the figure shout before rustling and someone appeared by his side. Chan scrunched his eyes trying to block the light coming from above while identifying the person looming over him. The first thing he noticed was long brown hair, the strands were flowing almost magically. As if hypnotized by it, Chan could only stare. Until finally, he saw the stranger's face.

She’s ethereal.

You were quite confused as to why you were where you were. All you could see for miles were… white? Your body was standing on nothing, or at least that was how it looked. A sudden voice interrupted your wonders.

Welcome _____, you are in Paradise.

You turned back to find the source of the voice but all you found was a blinding light that caused you to squint your eyes.

“Wh-what? Where?”

Paradise dear, the afterlife.

Your mind went blank, the afterlife? No way. Your brain tried remembering the last thing before waking up in this weird place.

There’s no use child, your memories are long gone. But I can tell you this, you went in peace. You weren’t in pain.

Were the voices capable of reading minds? And who were they? You were a bit frightened.

To answer your question, yes we can read minds. We are the Guides, here to assist the souls in the afterlife. There’s no need to be afraid.

“Uh, okay, ...thank you?” You voiced out, still a little overwhelmed with whatever was going on.

Well then, perhaps we should take you to your choice. Please, follow the green path.

Just as the voices finished speaking, a sudden green line appeared in front of you. You couldn’t see what was ahead, just the green line until the end. You decided to follow through, whatever this was.

As you walked on the path, you were gradually transported to a different place. When you were finally able to understand your surroundings, there were screens that had different landscapes and writings in different colors under them. The scenes displayed were (what you could only describe as) heavenly. Each of them has its own set of vibe and warmth to it. Unconsciously your hand moved itself to touch one of the screens, but then the voices returned prompting you to pull it back.

What you see in front of you are the places in Paradise, according to how one lives their life on Earth, you have a series of options that you may choose from. I shall provide you a look-through.

The screens suddenly disappeared and now you were standing in what looked like those busy city streets, only not so busy.

First is the Silver City. Its appearance resembles the metropolitan areas down on Earth but without all the pollution, noises, and busy traffic. Many people who had used to live in these areas usually choose them, sensing a familiarity to it, they say.

As the Guides explained its landscapes, you were admiring the tall buildings and skyscrapers around you. The architectural designs were marvelous and even if you didn’t remember if you had studied such things, you can’t help but stare in admiration.

Aside from the buildings, the streets looked beautiful as well. The sidewalks were arranged perfectly as if it was placed with the most proper city planning. But one building stuck out to you most, it was majestic. A silver mansion, with tall gates and filled with all kinds of trees and plants. Before you could step towards it, the Guides were already finished explaining the Silver City and had transported you instead to another location.

Second, the Golden Countryside. As the name states, this place is best likely your ultimate countryside farm paradise. A quaint farmhouse with animal livestock to nurture and many forests to explore and spend time in. Families often choose this place for their resting, it’s quite homey.

True to their words, you couldn’t believe what you were seeing. It was a vast field of grass with a simple two-story house that looked like it could fit six bedrooms. Beside it was a giant farmhouse and animals roaming around it. The view itself was doubled in beauty as the sun (or whatever source of light that existed here) sets from behind, casting a soft orange glow over it. Somehow the silver mansion from earlier was placed way aside in your head. Yet again, before you could ask any questions, you were immediately transported once more.

The third is Cosmic Space. Ever wondered how it is to live in Space child?

You heard the voice give out a sound that was similar to a laugh, but somehow not quite.

More people than you’d expect actually dream of this. It may not be as simple as the City or the Countryside, but it’s nonetheless paradise. To them.

Now you were most definitely floating, though despite floating in the middle of random space, you could breathe easily and see easily as well. You thought that space may be too wild for you but as you were looking around, you saw one of the most magical things you have ever seen.

“A comet shower…”

The Guides seemed to have heard you as they projected the shower closer, now holographic space comets were right above you, shining as they continued the rain of them. Mesmerized was all you could feel, the meteors were almost hypnotizing you.

“Whoa…”

Beautiful isn’t it?

Was the last thing you heard before you felt the sudden pull of transport again, at this point you were no longer fazed with the continuous changing of locations, though you did wish to have been able to watch the shower longer.

Number four, the Pearl Waters. For those who favor the deep sea and vast oceans. Of course, many souls who felt close to the waves chose this. The afterlife here is often intriguing, staying with the many creatures and traveling wherever paradise takes you.

You found yourself standing on a deck of a ship, it was modernized though some parts resemble that of an older version. Heading to the flanks you watched the blue ocean as the waves sloshed around the sides. As if welcoming you, dolphins suddenly jumped above the sea, whalebacks spurting water, and schools of fish could be seen from the clear water. You were most surely amazed. As the sea creatures displayed a water show, you felt something touching your arm on the railing. You looked to find a woman with green-blue hair, her cheeks had features similar to scales, and as you peered further you realized it wasn’t a woman at all.

“A...mermaid?”

Ah yes, indeed. Each paradise also has guardians that help care and maintain the afterlife. Mermaids are the Pearl Waters guardians. As for the Silver City, we have the Elves. Golden Countryside has the Shapeshifters while Cosmic Space has Angels.

“Wait what?” You were pretty much confused all together, mythical creatures? Well, then again, it is the afterlife, who knows what actually exists here. But still, you found yourself in confusion and quite the shock.

Not to worry dear, you’ll have plenty of time to get acquainted. Now for our last destination.

The mermaid who was staring at your side gave you a small smile before disappearing back into the ocean. You continued to stare at her general direction before your view changed into that of...clouds?

Last but not the least, Heaven’s Cloud. It’s truly magical here. Not many people find it appealing though, but of course it always depends on who’s choosing. Essentially, it's the skies. The guardians here are the fairies and spirits. Quite the peculiar and very friendly creatures.

As your eyes set on the landscape, you couldn’t help but let out a gasp. It was breathtaking. It was as if you were standing right in front of the Sun but at the same time, you weren’t. You knew for one you’ve never been in a place like this yet all you could feel from the surroundings was home. You leaned down to touch the fluffy ground and it was the softest thing you’ve ever felt. As quickly as the previous location visits, the surroundings changed again back to their original place with screens.

Now _____, because of the well-lived life that you have gone through. You, _____, are given the choice of one of the five Paradises that you have just seen. Speak now for your choice.

You didn’t know if it was your own voice and mind that spoke, or your conscience, because the sound that erupted from your body sounded firm and almost unbreakable. You didn’t even realize that you had spoken your choice after it was said.

“Heaven’s Cloud if I may,”

The Guides paused for a moment as if they were thinking about something, before continuing.

Very well then, your heart has spoken. To Heaven’s Cloud, you shall go.

One last time, you were again transported to a field with white clouds, similar to the earlier landscape you visited. This time without the voices. Somehow you suddenly felt alone, scared, and unsure of what to do. Wandering aimlessly, you tried looking for the guardians - the fairies and spirits. Then you suddenly heard someone shout.

“Hey you! Hey!”

You turned back to see a man, brown fluffy hair swaying atop his head, running towards you. Well, was running, until he stumbled down and started rolling across the field.

“Oh my god! Are you okay?” you shouted before heading towards the boy. As you reached his side, you saw he was unhurt and fine, just squinting his eyes. You sighed in relief, although it should make sense, after all, it was clouds underneath them. Before you could say anything to the stranger, you caught him staring right at you, and somehow you stared back as well.

The boy looked mesmerizing.

#heaven's cloud #lee chan scenario #dino scenario #seventeen imagines #em;writes #your choice based stories #svt fanfic

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ephemerlskies · 5 years ago

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the lighthouse | jjk

⇢ pairing: reader x jungkook

⇢ genre: one shot, fluff (what's new), strangers to "lovers", mutual pining, so much sap you're gonna have to shower after reading this, ANGST, jungkook is a literary scholar (?) of sorts

⇢ word count: 12k

⇢ warnings: as stated before, it's Cheesy with a capital C, lots of introspection, brief mentions of death, explicit language, mommy issues, (((major plot twist)))

⇢ summary: you and jungkook had one thing in common: you were both lost souls stagnant in the search of some fulfillment. the one of many differences was that your story had been written on your sleeves, while jungkook’s was a story needed to be unriddled. was this going to be another disappointing chapter in the book of unattainable desires or could your encounter with the mysterious man who lived in the lighthouse lead to something much more?

a/n: i'm super proud of how this turned out even though it ripped my heart out of my chest... this was probably my favorite fic to write and ahh im so happy to release it!!!! i hope you lovely little angels enjoy!! :) <3

What makes us human? This question posed by your philosophy teacher had been stalking your thoughts hours after class had ended. As the rain padded against your umbrella, you piled in a few answers to this question.

What makes us human? A question that would seemingly have a clear cut answer, but when you got down to it, there was no distinct characteristic that differentiates humans from other animals. It was easy to say something such as how we have complex linguistics or industrialized civilization, but that is to discredit how the packs of wolves howl to each other, the birds sing from tree to tree, the beavers diligently construct their dams, or the dirt cities in which ants build their own societies not much different than humans.

You pondered the idea that we love so deeply, even when it is often unreturned, but there is no denying the way a mother bear strikes down any and all enemies to protect her baby cub is anything other than true love.

So, what makes us human? You sat on a bench placed on the sidelines where you could witness small scenes of the lives of passing strangers. This sonder might be what makes us human. The knowledge that each person lives and loves and cries and fears and speaks and dies in ways with which you will never begin to familiarize. Life continues on around you despite how unimportant it may seem to the rest.

Does a lion waste any moment of his time wondering how the deer had found its way to the shallow pond, whilst preparing to strike? Of course not.

You watched a couple clinging onto each other and wondered where they met. You then were captured in the peace of an old woman prodding around in the grass with her golden retriever; perhaps it was her last companion. Then, your eyes drifted towards the two boys pushing each other over but with the gentleness one could only assume that was out of friendship or perhaps brotherhood.

And then you saw him.

Gentle fingers tracing the stacks of magazines lined in a perfect column; an arm that disappeared into the sleeve of his dark, wool coat. A tweed newsboy hat sheltering his eyes, and deep chestnut Oxford shoes stepping lightly, nearing a tiptoe, between the cracks of each cement plate, weathered by the infinite other shoes that tread on those very grounds. A body so magnetizing and moving as if it were a secret, and you couldn’t imagine why no one else had been ingested by the enigma that is this man. You longed for him to reveal these secrets that hid underneath his hat and coat, though if he wouldn’t, which he most likely wouldn’t, you had no problem with seeking them out yourself.

In a city filled with young souls draped in modern streetwear, jeans, bright colors, and converse or Dr. Martens or perhaps high heels, catching this needle in the haystack plugged into every synapse of wonderment. The muted tones of his clothing gleamed the brightest out of the sea of strangers.

This is what made you human. Your desire to know everything that lies barely beyond your wingspan. Everything you could hold was close to nothing in meaning, and everything your arms could not reach was always all you could ever want. The rise of your legs, the way you replicated his every movement, running your fingers along the stack of magazines, fastidious prancing in the spaces between the cracks, and your subtle pursuit of the man just out of reach was what made you human.

Bodies bustling through your path failed to untether you from this chase. It felt far beyond your power to stop yourself from the rising excitement and allure in your chest that pulled you towards him. The man was quick and swift to dodge oncoming bystanders, however your eyes became a missile fixed on a target.

The unexpected turn he took had you floundering for you had been trapped behind an older lady and a couple walking side by side. Sadly, your memorization of the streets and landmarks had been admisal, so you found yourself in uncharted territory. Each road sign and corner store had been displayed like a foreign language, and you mentally cursed yourself for letting your silly lust for learning what shouldn’t be learned lead you into this difficult position.

You stood defeated, the man had evaded your fragile trail behind him with ease. You lost him, or maybe he got away.

It was still midday, prompting you to make an end of this means. Your eyes discovered the coast set along the edge of the town, and though this was the furthest you had ever gone, you dared to go further. This mishap of yours granted you the opportunity to introduce yourself to the shore, and the waves have always delighted your interest. So, you found it just to walk down to the sand. The sound of the water pressing into the wet sand was calming; it was something you could find yourself getting used to. Luck presented itself kindly, giving you a moment unencumbered by the rain that had ceased not long after you stepped foot on the beach.

You took this time to be with yourself and sort out all the problems that have been worrying your mind these past few weeks. Your best friend, Chaeyoung, had an upcoming birthday that had snuck up on you before you had the chance to even think about getting her a card, let alone a gift or celebration. And you would be disappointed with yourself if you failed to outdo last year’s efforts. There was also the test in your Chemistry class scheduled only a day after her birthday, curtailing your plans of staying out late because there was no way you would allow for anything less than your very most on this exam. Then, there was the essay on what makes us human that you denied any chance of regaining priority to your list of worries, knowing it would gnaw at your mind until you forcibly shut it out.

And the man that willed you to seek him out, and that wore the title of his stories as if he intentionally wished to spark your wonder to learn them.

That should have been the last of your worries. It should have been.

The day began to fade into a warm, orange dusk. Skies once gloomy and grey now covered in blankets of clouds reflecting the sun’s gentle rays and you found yourself reunited with the calming feeling similar to when you first stepped on the beach.

Not long after registering how far you had traveled along the shore, you noticed a quaint lighthouse with a house-like structure at the base. The off-white stones cemented up until a red paneled roof covered it, tempting you to know what lies behind those walls.

It looked like it was about to rain again.

Are lighthouses closed off from the public?

There’s a house, there must be someone inside that could help me find my way home.

All these comments to yourself made to premise the conclusion of entrance into this lighthouse. As you approached the door, framed in oak lining and painted red, the clouds appeared heavy once again. A few drops of condensation was enough persuasion that what was about to be done was for the good of your well being. You pushed it open and a creak echoed around the room inside.

The walls were covered with stone bricks and there was one table in the center of the room. Other than that, this house was barren and if it weren’t for the second door that you guessed led to the lighthouse you would have called a car to take you home.

Your walk was pensive and mouse-like; there was some quality about this structure that made you feel like you weren’t alone and sudden movements would disrupt an established peace. Your hand turned the cold, gold-plated handle and pulled open the door, soon being met with a warm gust of air that engulfed you into the lighthouse.

This part of the building was exponentially more decorated than the room that preceded it. A staircase cemented into the sides of the lighthouse plastered with shelves upon shelves of books spiraled along the cylindrical walls, paired with dull lanterns that illuminated each level of railing had you drawn into its magnificence.

You stared up to what looked like a platform that held a place in which one would rest and look out into the ocean. There was no one in sight, and you assumed permission to climb up the staircase. Your eyes scanned each spine, creased and slightly warped from the moisture of the air, like they had been read over and over again. Your breath became heavy and your stare was focused on the books to ignore the dizziness settling in.

Reaching the top of the staircase came as a blessing, your lungs were close to catching fire. There were two armchairs, side by side, one fashioned a knitted blanket and the other was used as a table for five to seven or so novels, and the walls behind buried in high stacks of more books. There had to be at least seventy in the first half of piles you accounted for, and before you had the chance to snoop around the rest of the room you heard a voice coated with alarm behind you.

“What are you doing in here?” Your breath halted as you turned around, about to explain why you had let yourself into this building, however no amount of words could fully justify this invasive act.

You recognized the wool coat and the tweed hat now resting in his hand instead of on his head. His eyes were shrouded in a youthful innocence despite his attire that implied he was a sophisticate of some sort.

“Are you going to answer me or do I have to call the police?” The boom of his voice was chilling, sending shivers along your neck and chest.

“Sorry, I’m-” How could you possibly defend your intrusion without sounding juvenile or absolutely insane? “I was… It was raining and I just was walking on the beach so-”

“So, you decided breaking and entering was better than getting a little wet?” His barbed responses hurdled how you plaintively stuttered around excuses. Despite his efforts to seem menacing, you couldn't let go of his boyish facial features. It was absolutely astonishing to you that someone who looked young enough to attend your own college and handsome enough to garner quite a bit of attention had anything to do with this dingy, aged lighthouse.

“No, I was going to come in here to ask for directions. I’m lost.” The pitiful temperament of this comment was not intentional, but the man who now stood in front of you felt itched by it. He couldn't ignore how your legs trembled, partly from the cold but also because of his raised voice directed at you, and how that admittedly aroused some guilt.

“It’s fine. Just-” He sighed deeply, placing his hat on the side table adjacent to the left armchair, “You can just wait here until the rain stops. Though, I have to say it looks unrelenting at the moment.” The man’s attention was captured by how the heavy rain seemed to wage war against the raging tides. You caught a glimpse of a smile. The slightest upturn of the corner of his lips almost compelling you to reveal you had spotted him in the town earlier today, and that you found yourself enamoured with his every movement, and he was ironically the reason you were stuck here.

“Are you sure? I can go, I shouldn't have been here in the first place.” The words escaped from your mouth quickly as if they were trying to race each other to be spoken.

“No, I said it’s fine.” The suddenness of this offer hushed you. He then removed his wool coat, unveiling the clothes he wore beneath it. The burgundy crew neck sweater layered tastefully over a collared shirt was just as old fashioned as every other article of clothing he sported. How intriguing.

“I'm sorry.” Your muscles grew sore from suppressing how aggressively you would have been shaking from the cold. “Thank you.” Him granting you shelter gave you motive to keep the umbrella that would suffice to protect you from the rain under wraps. The option he presented was far more favorable.

“Sit down. Please, use this blanket.” He gestured towards the throw draped over the right armchair. His eyes avoided you as much as he could manage though you had this glow emulating from your wanting eyes and soft looking skin that crept to the corner of his vision too brightly to ignore. Consequently, this comment soothed both your body and mind for he unguarded a kindness that was hidden when he first spoke to you.

“My name is ___.” He was facing the window that displayed the sea, now thrashing and falling into itself, and without moving his head, his eyes drifted towards you.

“I know who you are.”

“Wh- How?” Maybe accepting an invite in a secluded lighthouse on the beach wasn’t the safest thing you could be doing on a Friday afternoon. Anxiety pioneered a place in your breathing, turning it rushed and choked.

Before your mind could theorize all the ways in which you could make an escape from this room or how quickly you could use your hidden umbrella as a weapon he said, “I noticed you following me in the town’s square earlier today.” You sighed, releasing the terror that pricked your lungs. If anything, it was he who should be afraid of you.

“I’m not a stalker!” That weak defense was all you could push from your throat before any well constructed explanations could be put forth.

His laugh, along with his cryptic gaze towards the waves, made you feel even worse about your actions.

“You were just so stunning and I wanted to know what kind of person still wears a newsboy hat without trying to make a statement.” Your lower lip tucked between your teeth stopped the nervous laugh about to spill and expressed worry that the more you tried to explain yourself, the more this man believed you should be charged for stalking not to mention trespassing.

“Stunning?”

“I mean, like, someone I’d want to meet.”

“What were you planning on doing once I stopped somewhere, or noticed you?” He questioned you only because he relished how you were scrambling to a proper defense. He knew you weren’t any threat to him, not many people were, however he enjoyed your chatter more than the silence that would have taken its place.

“I don't know, maybe just… introduce myself?” This sheepish, yet honest, reply had you drowning in humiliation, while the man before you seemed as if he were floating effortlessly along the surface.

“I’m Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook.” Relief replaced the worry that he would turn you away, leaving you to the hands of the storm outside. The fact that any other person would have done so led you to believe Jungkook held a lot more compassion than he let on. You held your hand to greet him, finding it only polite to execute this formality. His, however, remained folded behind his back, notably denting your ego as you retracted your hand quicker than you extended it.

“Okay.” You muttered to yourself in slight embarrassment from this trivial rejection. “So, do you live here or something?” Your question was first replied to with a breath of annoyance. Jungkook was kind enough to allow you a sanctuary from the rain, exemption from the intrusion and stalking, and now he found himself having to entertain you.

“Yeah, something like that.” All this disinterested answer did was persist your attempts to break his catatonic gaze. However, his reserve had been solidified steadily over the years, so this venture was going to be tough.

“I didn’t know you could live in a lighthouse?” Your inquiry was spoken with the hopes this would ignite a lasting conversation.

“It’s not a lighthouse, technically.” Jungkook’s affirmative tone flew right over your head, conjuring even more annoyance that oddly enticed him to continue responding to your dense questions.

“Well, it looks like a lighthouse. It’s shaped like a lighthouse. It’s on the beach, just like a lighthouse.” A chuckle joined the sigh of his breath and his head that shook at your shallow observations. Jungkook eventually turned around and made his way towards the stacks of books, trying to preoccupy himself from whatever this exchange was. “All signs point to this being a lighthouse.”

“Well, it’s not. Lighthouses are meant to send signals to the ships out at sea. This doesn't,” His curt response tickled your amusement, only encouraging you to further aggravate him. “Therefore, not a lighthouse.”

“Okay,” You sounded agreeable, but this was soon followed by a doubtful comment whispered just loud enough for Jungkook’s ear to catch it, “It’s a lighthouse.” He found his stoicism melting away due to your spiteful attitude and conniving giggle in the face of his frustration. You wanted to get a rise out of him, and he knew this, and you were doing a fine job at it.

“It’s not-” His voice elevated with excitement, but he soon tamed the defensiveness threatening to spill from his lips, “Do you want to go back out into the rain?”

“Okay, okay. Sorry.” Though, you sounded all but remorseful. The sly smirk resting on your face matched Jungkook’s satisfied expression, despite these smiles surfacing for different reasons. You couldn’t deny how humorous it was to distemper this man. How all the worries you laid out like the pebbles and seashells on this beach were washed away by the tides. Meanwhile, his grin provided little contribution in masking his enjoyment of your company and relentless curiosity.

You now sat in the right armchair, bundled in the blanket. It was not necessarily a thick blanket, but the chills once disturbing you had dwindled almost immediately. You were still entranced by Jungkook's movements. His hands were now occupied with a book from one of the stacks he’d been eyeing; the way he cradled the book like it was a newborn baby further revealed he had a somewhat protective attitude towards them.

“What are you reading?” His eyes remained between the pages and lines of the book, but his focus was yet again thieved by your incessant curiosity. Jungkook thought it irritating similarly to how one would find a cat disrupting their owner from work, annoying yet ever so endearing, and adorably distracting.

“I’m not reading, I’m being bothered by you.” His snark was meant to damage your brazen pestering, but unknown to him it merely fueled it.

“Boohoo.” No matter how elementary that retort was, you still managed to fever him and hold hostage his attention.

“I’m reading The Odyssey.” Jungkook surrendered to you, placing the book on his lap that was now sitting in the armchair next to yours. “Why do you ask so many questions?” His eyes laid on you the same way they laid on the sea, filled to the brim with fascination.

“I just wanted to know what you were reading.” Even when he expressed a clear indication that he was past your nonsense, it went unnoticed like the particles of dust flitting around the darkened room. This oblivion of yours prompted your next question. “Could you read it to me?”

His eyebrows furrowed at this request. Jungkook had already found himself exhausted by your persistence, and predicted ‘no’ would not be accepted as a viable answer. He just sighed and began to read aloud.

His soft voice somehow drowned out the sea’s commotion. The words flowed off his tongue as if he wrote the book himself; such poise for a young man lured you to immerse yourself in his narration and time grew more and more abstract.

After a bit, Jungkook paused to examine how you'd received his reading and he was pleased to find your chin resting in your palm and your eyes and ears fixed onto him as if he were reading the gospel. This made it difficult, impossible, to deny entry for the subtle blush working its way on his cheeks.

“Are you satisfied?” He closed the book, peering out of the window to check if the weather had eased since you arrived. Though the intensity of the storm hadn’t lightened in the slightest, there was a new tranquility adopted by the drizzling sky waters that sank and fed into the waves.

“Never.” You replied with a hungered conviction twisted into your words, “What happens next?”

Jungkook laughed in shock of how eager you were to hear more of this story. It was unlike someone who wasn’t well versed in literature to genuinely enjoy listening to this archaic novel.

“Why are you laughing? Read more!” Your whine came off a bit childlike, but succeeded in its goal.

“It’s getting late.” He commented with a gentle sternness, though he proceeded to reopen the book. Your peculiar attention naturally drew him to oblige your desires. Even in the midst of a storm, even as the hours slipped by and the evening had been born, he continued to read.

You settled back into your chair in rejoice that you’d get to spend a bit more time with Jungkook. He was practically a stranger, and still there was a climate of comfort and intimacy that took the place of the crisp, winter air when he read from his book. He felt it too, and that was reason enough to allow you this company.

Throughout the chapter he had been working to finish, he snuck glances to find your eyes growing heavy with sleep as each page turned. Jungkook halted from reading and was trapped in the flush of your cheeks and lips and how your mouth hung slightly ajar as you inhaled the cold, wet air of the lighthouse. The puffs of breath that billowed from your lips had him yearning to know a warmth so full with life and curiosity.

“Are-” Jungkook tensed at the idea of disturbing your sleep, as if you hadn’t barged into his life without a hint of permission. “Are you asleep?”

Your head lifted slowly, then held stiff to maintain consciousness, “I was just resting my eyes. I’m not tired, I want you to read more.” You said this in spite of knowing you would drift asleep if he did.

“I think we are done reading for now.” The book closed for the last time, his hands pressing against the cover to seal his assurance. “You should head home.”

“But, I don’t know how the book ends.” This weak argument came from a place of jaded desperation. Regardless, he almost fell victim to your subdued urgency but any sensibility he could garner warned him not to allow this. You were quite obviously tired and he prefered you be safe in your own bed before the night advanced.

“Well, that’s because I only just started this book and it is very, very long.” Jungkook hoped this would usher you out even if that meant the return of loneliness would seep between the pillows of the right armchair after you left him with his solitude.

“Well, I won’t be able to get these questions out of my mind unless I finish the book.” Another weak argument drained from your inventory of excuses. Maybe a change of subject would present an opportunity to linger in his company. “Also, why do you live here all alone?”

“I just do. I feel like I don’t have to explain this to you.” Jungkook was bewildered at his admission to give you, an unannounced and uninvited visitor, any explanations and still he was close to doing exactly that. “You’re quite invested in my personal life.” As much as that was true, his withdrawal from your curiosity wasn't all that effortful. Living in secrecy and desolation had the feeling of companionship nearly vanishing from his memory and you reunited him with that warmth. And, he had not realized how it had nearly been forgotten or how much he missed it until he finally felt it again.

“You seem like someone who has better things to attend to.” The lament that stained his words bore such heartache that was soon displaced in your chest.

“No, no. My life is boring, and I don’t know. What person wouldn’t be interested in the personal life of a hermit who lives in a lighthouse?” You stood and paced around the platform towering over the swirling bookshelves below, towering over what felt like the entire world with Jungkook. The end of the blanket trailed your footstep as your drooping eyes skimmed the multicolored novels which were remarkably arranged alphabetically by author. How he had the time or patience to organize the hundreds of books he owned was beyond your comprehension. Every detail you acquired from Jungkook was stored in a compartment of your heart, almost as if it were assigned by fate. They were told in riddles and secrets and everything else meant to be deciphered.

“Not a hermit, and not a lighthouse. I couldn’t imagine someone like you being bored with your life.” His voice had become welcoming, with a hint of genuine interest, and this transition felt imminent ever since you first introduced yourself. The tilt of your head signified your agreement with his last statement and implied there was something that bothered you about this truth.

“Someone like me?”

“Someone like you. Curious, young with your whole life ahead of you. It's hard to believe you should be bored with that.”

“You say that as if you aren't the same age as me.” Jungkook shrugged lazily and scuffed his shoes against the rug as he now stood against the window sill, observing your interest of his books.

“I shouldn’t be a lot of things, and yet I am all those things. Bored, curious, and I’m here talking to a complete stranger that totally has the capability to murder me like in those movies instead of going back home.” Your comment that snuck out had wrested a soft chuckle from Jungkook. They were absentmindedly thrown into the air that filled the space between you and him, nurturing his reciprocated fascination with you. Your diligent grazing of each book had distracted how the weight of your eyelids heavied by the minute.

“It’s not like I don’t have great people in my life or a quality education that takes up most of my time, I just,” Your brief pause was to turn your attention over to Jungkook, who did not hide how he was listening intently to these confessions, alleviating from a place in need of emptying. His eyebrow was arched in a manner that jolted you back to your senses. You’d revealed one too many privacies to someone who you had been acquainted with only hours ago. Mortification would have bathed your body if not for the way Jungkook seemed to strongly engage with your openness.

“You just?” He staged his interest overtly to correct the imbalance of how your genuinity left you hanging lower than him on the emotional scale. Jungkook believed that was the least he could do to mitigate the embarrassment about to silence you.

“Uh, I just never seem to be satisfied with what I have. And that makes me seem like a greedy, spoiled child which makes me even more frustrated with myself.” You admitted, pulling the blanket over your shoulders tighter as if that would shield you from the compromising guilt slithering out of your body. “And that’s how I see myself. Ungrateful and spoiled.” This certainly scraped the barrel of your deep rooted disgust with yourself.

“Not spoiled, just lost.” His response felt like a soft and thoughtful embrace, granted that this was meant to ease the tinge of reproach in your heart. The words he spoke caressed your cheeks and told you that every horrid thing you thought of yourself was flawed.

“I’ve certainly been in your position.” He euphemized what he really wanted to say to you, that he saw himself in you. Even though you spoke very little on this, he felt himself living every experience you alluded to as if he had been right beside you your whole life. Or rather that you had witnessed his life and suffered identical desires and grievances and adversities and were simply retelling his story down to the most intricate detail; and somehow you made it sound brand new and a thousand times more aching. He was stranded in a state of amazement, ambushed by your pain and how even in moments of emotional destitution, you were unquestionably beautiful.

Likewise, this stranger, who was no longer estranged, and his kind words nearly compensated for the billions of people you could never meet, all the dreams you wanted but could never alter into incarnation, and all the disappointments that plagued your heart.

And you felt held by his words, his voice, him.

“You’ve been in my position?” You requested confirmation.

“I was. Certainly.” And he confirmed.

“Where are you now?” In turn, you wanted this to suggest, ‘where can I find you?’

This question carried profound sentiment on both the giving and receiving end of it. To you, this yearned for advice. Any piece of wisdom would gladly, gratefully be accepted to ease this rampage of constant dissatisfaction. To him, it resurfaced a series of speculations long undisturbed until you had asked this question; a place intentionally void of all attention because it was sometimes too grim to remember. A haze of difficulty crowded a definite answer, though he knew there was one. He couldn’t place his finger on a fitting response and found himself next to you in search of the answer.

Where are you now?

This haunted his mind for a bit, leaving him speechless and albeit impressed, for once, by your curiosity.

“It’s hard to say. Somewhere in between, I suppose.” Whatever meaning this carried did not resonate as sound to you. The mere idea of being on the end of perpetual longing, waiting for a clear path to the end that promised fulfillment, made it implausible to settle on being somewhere in between the two. Again, you were left unsatisfied and feeling a burden placing itself on your shoulders and wallowing a fit of disappointment in the pit of your stomach. Jungkook noticed how your eyes fell from his, down to the maroon accents of the rug, and felt out of place. Out of place, in his own lighthouse, all because your gaze and attention he’d grown used to in this short time wasn’t directed at him.

“That’s the kind of ambiguity that leaves me so hungry.” He nodded in agreeance with the twisted cruelty of his response you had pointed out. Jungkook didn’t know how or why he’d come to turn every corner and check each crevasse to find what could settle your appetite. This whole time, though, he sailed through this painstaking search without a trace of uncertainty. His illusion of disinterest and annoyance soon dissolved into the floor that your eyes hadn’t strayed from.

“Maybe if I lived in a quaint, not-lighthouse I would be satisfied with that answer, but I don’t. I live a normal, normal, normal life.” The repetition of your words stressed your fatigue of this dullness, your desire for everything just inches away from your fingertips.

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with a normal life. I think it’s wrong that we have put the idea of drama and excitement on a pedestal.” This outlook, unlike the last, did gain traction in stripping the thick ambiguity around Jungkook’s mind. To your surprise, you could be satisfied with the small pieces of this man’s mystery being chipped bit by bit.

He was well aware of his deep rooted appreciation that accompanied your eyes as it moved towards him once again. There was some sense of purposefulness in this glance that demoted his callousness to tender captivation.

“Can I ask one more question?”

“I have a hard time believing you only have one more question.” His doubtfulness didn’t seem to discourage you, or him.

“For real! Only one more, it’s important.” The only way to prove whether or not this question was truly important was for you to ask it. His head nodded his approval.

“What do you think makes us human?” Before he could answer, a swell of perplexity had overtaken his thoughts on this. You could tell, out of everyone, Jungkook would have a profound answer that could save you hours of contemplation over your philosophy essay’s prompt.

“That’s an interesting question.”

“An interesting question in need of an answer.” You prodded him for his response, though this was pointless if there was no response that could possibly be constructed. Not a response of reason that you seemed to require, but of feeling. Like an instinct, and that in itself made it inapplicable to this question.

“Ask me again some other time. I don’t know if the answer is that simple.”

But, of course, it was. The answer, in his eyes, was blindingly clear.

“I’ll hold you to that!” He gladly took accountability for that commitment. An unfamiliar contentment with the unknown had lodged in your chest when the promise of spending time together emerged through the once conditional circumstances. The promise that transformed those conditional circumstances to voluntary acts.

This humbling discovery left a wide grin on your face, beaming directly towards Jungkook.

Jungkook peered over to the antique clock placed on a shelf next to the window. The aversion of his eyes was to save face from how your soft smile that projected praise and attachment had effectively unnerved him; he stuffed his hands in his pockets to hide his fingers that twitched out of pure elation.

The hour hand stationed on the twelve carved in roman numerals verified how his company had erased any discern for the hours that passed. They had floated away so silently, slowly that you could have sworn time froze altogether.

“Oh shit, it’s midnight? Fuck me.” The decibels of your voice boomed against the walls, it could have shaken the stacks of books down to a pile of mess. “I’m sorry, shit. I didn’t even realize it was so late.” You unraveled yourself from the blanket and collected your belongings in a bit of a frenzy.

“It’s alright. I, um, I had a nice time.” He distanced himself from you swiftly as you dashed across the room to the edge of the stairs. Even in a hurried state, you still looked back to him and offered a smile, unsure if that was enough to suffice for a proper gesture of gratitude.

“Me too.” The words were close to inaudible, but you knew he heard them loud and clear, along with the string of implications that were laced in them.

“Oh and by the way, make good use of that umbrella. It looks like it could start raining again.” Your ears felt engorged with flames when he’d revealed his knowledge of your little secret. It was foolish of you to believe you could outsmart Jungkook because what you thought obscure was well within his range of astuteness and the umbrella, still damp from the rain, was apparent from the beginning.

You didn’t catch how he’d been smiling when you turned away bashfully, strutting down the stairs in an attempt to portray false confidence. But if you did, you would have picked up on his mutual indulgence in your visit, the absolute bliss laden in his eyes. You grasped tightly to the joy evoked from the thought of seeing him again, however your nerves held a tighter grasp that did not allow you to express this to him. Perhaps your giggles of excitement, surely heard by Jungkook, spilling from your throat as you rushed out the empty room or the way you clutched your umbrella to your chest in admittance you had purposefully kept that fact from him would give Jungkook a clue of how thankful you were to meet him. And even more so to be able to see him again.

As you parted from the lighthouse that was not a lighthouse, something in between, you felt that the comfort you once had taper off with the growing distance from the not-lighthouse. You were fraught with a gentle yearning to turn back, run up the spiraling stairs, settle yourself back into the right armchair, and ask humbly to stay a while longer.

Little did you know, Jungkook’s hopes coincided with yours like two concentric circles.

(One week later)

If it wasn’t the question left unanswered that motivated you, it was the fact that you missed the view of the beach from the window. Or maybe it was the countless supply of book titles that you didn’t get to finish inspecting. Perhaps it was that you missed how the soft blanket complimented the feathery cushion of the right armchair.

Any of these excuses could be suited to explain how you rushed through the town, determined, goal-oriented and passing down streets now ingrained in your memory, with a destination clear in mind.

But it definitely couldn't be how dearly you missed the sound of his voice when he read to you or his smile or the way he studied the waves with gentle affection. No, it couldn't be that.

Either way, you arrived at the base of the lighthouse. It had been a week since your first visit and you hoped that the invitation still stood for your return. Making your way through the empty room felt quick since you hadn't wasted time to notice how the table now had a vase of flowers in the center. Nor did you notice the new mat placed in front of the interior doorway to the lighthouse.

Your heart dropped from your chest when you reached over to the door knob only to find it was locked. You turned the handle back and forth as if that would miraculously function as a key to unlock the door. After a bit of knob fiddling had proven itself useless, you turned away with a huff of air releasing your frustration.

The click and turn of the handle had you twirling around optimistically and seeing him made all that disappointment dissolve.

“You’re back again.” He was smiling at you, then cocked his head to say come in. The moment you stepped into the lighthouse, its lackluster disappeared as if by magic. But Jungkook knew it wasn’t magic at all; it was the person that hid their umbrella, and asked him to read and promised to return as much as he promised to let you return.

“I believe you promised to keep reading to me.”

“Did I?” The reasons for your return weren’t all that important to discuss, both you and him were just glad to make your way up the stairs to the two armchairs once more, hearts both racing not because of the physical exertion from the stairs but from the excitement rasping through yours and his bodies.

“Yes, but this time I won’t fall asleep.”

“We’ll see about that.” There was no question that your intense focus wasn’t because you cared about the book he had been reading. In all honesty, you would not be able to summarize any bit of the plot if someone asked. You probably would have a hard time even naming the author of the book because what sank you into the words on the pages wasn’t the story itself, but the voice that read them. Jungkook made those languid paragraphs sound like the first words ever to be spoken; he reinvented the English language through his unique dialect, inflections and phrasing that had the words of Homer dancing off the pages. So, of course there was no question that you wouldn’t be able to name any of the characters or recognize the writing style of Homer because those details faded away, leaving only the memory of his voice with you.

This time, Jungkook didn’t have to offer you a seat. He made it clear that this spot had been reserved and waiting for you by the way the blanket had been folded and worn by the arm of the chair and the new pillow resting at the base of the chair’s backrest. You planted yourself on the cushion that felt more plump than the last time you sat in it and faced towards the large window that showcased the ocean’s energetic swaying.

“I would never get tired of this view.” You commented while Jungkook pulled back the curtains further to widen the seascape. He too was drawn to the deep blue waters making their way to and from the shore.

“I usually don’t leave the windows this open, but my love for the scenery of the ocean has rekindled.” When he said this, your eyes hadn’t budged from the window unlike Jungkook’s that peered over to you. You pretended not to notice that or the way your heartbeat had taken a quickness that had your skin growing warmer.

“How could it leave in the first place?”

“It is well known, especially by you, that having an abundance of something lessens your appreciation for it.” A corner of your lips lifted at this, knowing exactly what he had been referring to. Each wave passed by and in a comatose-like state, you wondered where on the shore it would land.

“No need to call me out already, Jungkook.” He had left the window and retrieved The Odyssey that hadn’t left the side table since the night he read it to you. This broke your trance, and you shifted to face the left armchair.

“You made it too easy, ___.”

“Okay, Hermit.” Your smile did wonders to ease the irritation in Jungkook’s chest to tenderness. Though he refused to admit it, this otherwise taunting nickname sounded affectionate coming from you.

“Technically a hermit is-”

“Technically, I don’t care about your technicalities. No amount of facts will persuade me that you aren’t a Hermit.” Jungkook dug his tongue into the side of his cheek to resist from joining in with your laughter. He’d been fidgeting with the book that was waiting to be read, but neither of you seemed to mind putting that off.

“Ho- How was your day?” You shouldn’t have felt as proud as you did for making a man who could read aloud for hours stutter over his own words, and nonetheless you were extremely flattered by this.

“It was good.” Good never really meant good, and Jungkook knew this.

“And what’s the truth?” Your playing field had once again been unleveled, the advantage returned into the palm of Jungkook’s hand in the blink of an eye. His perceptiveness had been bordering on annoying but still remained on the side of impressive.

“Well,” You bunched the blanket in your fists as an expression of worry, “My mom called today.” Anyone who could hear would be able to tell you sounded unhappy about that.

“Why do you say that like it’s a bad thing?” Jungkook articulated his question to get the answer he’d been looking for, finding the hostility in your voice far more interesting than the actual conversation between you and your mom.

“You don’t know my mom, but she projects her over achieving personality onto almost everyone she meets, but most of it goes onto me.” Your back had straightened when mentioning your mom, almost as if it were a reflex, like Pavlov’s dog, that you were conditioned to be on guard at the thought of her. “I don’t know why I get so mad at her when she does that because I know it comes from a place of love.”

Jungkook hummed softly, granting you space to continue talking.

“Yeah, it probably comes from a place of love but part of me doesn’t believe that. Part of me thinks every time she calls to check on me it’s really just a ploy for her to nag me on what I could be doing better.” You scoffed as the conversation from earlier in the morning played out in your head again. Envisioning the back and forth between you and your mother only fueled your frustration but you couldn’t help yourself. There was no stifling the seething anger imploding before Jungkook’s eyes. “She always says stuff like, ‘Maybe if you applied yourself more you would be doing better than this.’ or ‘I told you that you should have done this or that and now it’s too late’ or the infamous ‘Do you not care about your future?’ lecture that just gets under my skin. She’s so good at saying the wrong things at the wrong time. I don’t know how she does it but she always manages to rub dirt in the wound.”

“So, she’s never satisfied with you?” Jungkook observed.

“No, never! And you’d think a mother would be supportive or happy with all the things her child had already accomplished but somehow it’s never enough. And she knows what she’s doing. That makes it worse. She knows how she weaponizes my guilt against me.” You held your tongue from the much longer rant about to digress, feeling a sudden discomfort in the way you’d been complaining to Jungkook. You couldn’t understand why it was all too easy to talk of these kinds of things to him, why he looked so interested in what you were saying even when anyone else would have grown tired of you by now, why you found in him a warm confidant much more comforting than you’d expected, yet there was no way to dismiss this reality.

Jungkook did not offer advice, or tell you that you should be thankful or that maybe you were handling these situations poorly. He did none of that. His silence was more thoughtful than any number of things he could have said. He simply listened.

You rose from the chair to get a closer view of the sea. Past your reflection in the glass, the consecutive tides seemed to grapple over the next and the next; the previous wave always just short of reach to tackle the immediate wave. He had followed you without a word, living up to your desire to have him at your side. There was no need for mindless comments or condolences to fill the silence, only mindful amity, at your side, because watching the ocean with you was enough.

“So, that was my day.” It was the first thing spoken after a period of quiet, perfectly timed and delivered for it to bear a dry humor in its intention. Jungkook and you laughed, finding this the long needed release of tension in your head.

“Is this going to become a habitual thing?”

“What’s that?”

“Me complaining to you about my personal struggles that would have gone in my journal or somewhere far more private than this.” All said while your and Jungkook’s gazes didn’t wander from the view of the window. “Me inviting myself into your lighthouse, or not-lighthouse, whatever.”

“I wouldn’t mind that.” Two heads turned towards each other almost as if it were on que.

The way your pupils dilated and softened conveyed every bit of thanks you held in your heart but couldn’t muster the courage to voice. Jungkook’s doe-eyed smile thanked you likewise and confessed the gratitude for how you had rescued him from yet another lonesome afternoon with a curtained window, an unused blanket, an empty chair, and a melancholic silence as he read his one of thousands of books. Not including The Odyssey, that was for your ears only.

“You wouldn’t?”

“Maybe a little.” His tease succeeded to provoke that smile of yours. And even though that was a favor on his end, he was the one that felt graced by it. Realistically, a smile costs nothing yet there grew an enormous debt in his heart; and even though he couldn’t afford it, all he could do was bask in every detail your smile, of the crease of your eyes, and of the way your cheeks took the form of a sweet Spring Peach, and the scrunch of your nose and brows. Before he sank himself deeper in debt, Jungkook beckoned for the two of you to return to your seats and read all your worries away.

---

Who would have guessed that The Odyssey, of all things, would be the thing that would occupy most of your Fridays through the rest of the winter? Sometimes you visited a Sunday, and other times you’d find yourself needing to hear The Odyssey on a Wednesday evening or a Monday morning. The days on which you swung by the now familiar lighthouse would vary, but they remained a weekly occurrence.

Jungkook had grown comfortable with this routine, reading to you while you watched him and the waves, but mostly him. Occasionally, his reading would cease to an interruption of his own doing to ask how your day was in a very specific way that only Jungkook seemed to exhibit. He’d ask you say anything but ‘good’ or ‘boring’ and he’d clarify that he wanted you to not leave out any details.

“Why?” You would ask. And he’d look at you as if you set yourself on fire.

“It’s important to me.” He’d reply as if it were that simple, or the answer you were looking for. Still, if it was important to him you didn’t need any more persuading.

Like when you told him you stopped by a coffee shop, he’d tell you to specify which drink you ordered and how it tasted.

“Cinnamon.”

“Is that your favorite?”

“No, I prefer peppermint but sometimes I combine those flavors and that becomes my other favorite.”

“That sounds sweet.”

“It absolutely is.”

“Does that make you happy?”

“It makes my insides feel like Christmas.”

“Is Christmas a feeling?”

“It is to me!” He smiled at your childlike enthusiasm because it made life seem a lot more appealing than he’d ever believed. Before you, the world was a little greyer. After you, suddenly full of vibrance, saturated to the grandest extents.

Or the time you brought a candle to fill the air with something a bit more pleasant than the smell of the old, wet stones of the lighthouse.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a candle, vanilla and patchouli.”

“Where did you get it?”

“I don’t remember. I just found it in my house and thought this place needed something sweet.”

“But you’re here.” Your teeth bit down on your tongue when he said this. You almost fallen trapped in figuring out what motivated him to say this, but the flattery of his comment was all too pleasing to ignore.

“But I don’t smell like vanilla and patchouli.” You said, only to save face from the fact that you suddenly felt like a deer in headlights when he looked at you, bracing for when he would crash into you and hoping to god you can absorb the exhilaration of souls colliding; and hoping to god he would crash into you.

“Could you light it, then?”

“Of course.”

And the room filled with a sweetness that complimented your company finely. Now, whenever he would smell the scents of vanilla and patchouli he would think of you, and you of him.

He would continue asking these simple questions, and so on.

Why he thought it was essential for you to relay these almost invaluable intricacies was beyond you, but it did make you feel heard; it made you feel held as it always did. It made the value of your life gone without the need to be earned or proven, the value of the smaller moments that fell between bigger moments.

It made it all okay that you felt like you stripped the clothes from your whole life off for him to revere and that he’d rarely ever display such emotional nudity for you; you were okay with lying bare before his eyes, vulnerable and pliant to his every whim. Even when you wanted to know all of these things about Jungkook and he’d hold them captive or he’d only offer half sufficient answers, you collected as many bits of the puzzle as possible to try and piece together his story.

“How are your parents, Jungkook?”

“Long gone.”

“Oh, Jungkook… I’m sorry for your loss.”

“I watched them grow old and content and that softened the blow.”

“Are you lonely?”

Yes, it’s excruciating when you are not here. I am tormented in your absence and all too plagued with despondency and I wish you knew that.

“I’ve grown used to it.”

“So you have.”

“So I have.”

You did not want him to be lonely; you didn’t want him to ever be sad but you wanted him to be able to say that he was to you. You wanted him to be able to tell you he was lonely; you wanted him to want you to know his heart. You wanted him to feel as naked as you felt. Vagueness was all you could ever manage to arrest from his gated mind.

And for once, the little he had given was more than you could ever ask for.

Sunday mornings with Jungkook were your favorite. The ocean was tame during this time on Sundays specifically and sailed you into its calmness; you were half asleep, resting on the sill running along the base of the window panes. Spring had been approaching which meant there were radiant glimmers of the early sun that reflected and glided along the ripples of the waves. Jungkook once said that every time he looked at these little pieces of diamond rays, he believed the sun and the sea performed in devotion for you and him alone.

“I love that.” And indeed you did. The idea that no one else witnessed this ocean, not this one, not the way you and Jungkook had, was a greedy disposition but felt so true.

“Would you like me to read?” He said in place of, Is my voice properly fitting for something as lovely as this moment?

“I want you to talk, but not of books.” You blinked slowly at Jungkook, “Could you tell me about yourself? Just one thing, anything you choose.” He saw those specks of diamonds glimmering in your irises. He felt so close to you, sitting on the other end of the window, and close enough to finally surrender a bit of his gated mind.

“When I was a child, I knew my days were numbered. The details of why aren’t important, but I digress.” You stuffed a scoff down your throat at the assertion that the details weren’t important. Him, of all people, claiming the details were unimportant had you whirling in a paradox. “With this in mind, I did my best to fulfill everything any child would have wanted. And I don’t think I’ve ever stopped because that list of desires was never ending.”

Was this what he meant when he said he was in my position once? You wondered.

“I spent all my time looking for the next best thing I could achieve, because the best things that I had was, as you know, never enough. One week, the best thing would be finding a four leaf clover to give to my mother. The next, it was being the first in line for the new, long awaited comic book. Or, it was the time my father took me fishing on the lake, and then seconds after it was the first fish I caught and threw back into the water, and that best thing was soon replaced by my father’s proud smile.”

Your throat tightened as you visualized a young Jungkook sitting on the dock with his father, full of youth and excitement, and how nostalgia had ripened into your heart even though you had no place in this memory of his. This dream-like sequence had compelled a few tears to fill your eyes, fogging your vision of the older Jungkook that sat before you.

“When I grew older, in my adolescent and teenage years, the next best thing was fulfilling a newfound passion. It prompted me to buy out almost the entire library and major in World Literature. I spent the rest of my days from then on immersed in reading, as you can see. It was the only place I felt like I was achieving the next best thing, and it was cruel when I came to realize there was no way in hell I could finish all the books I’d collected in time.”

“In time for what?”

“In time... for the next best thing to come along, I guess.” This answer appeared fabricated, but was subtle enough to pass through your mind without a second thought.

“And did it? Did it come along?”

It would have made no difference if your question had been asked to a brick wall because Jungkook brushed it off as he did every other question that would have given you another piece of his puzzle. He took precautions to avoid a defeat to your pouting by walking over to the left armchair and burying his face in the book’s fortitude. Before you had the chance to reiterate your question, Jungkook began to read, making it all too clear he was evading.

“Jungkook?” You whined to which he paid no mind by continuing to read.

“Is he being serious right now?” Again, you might as well have been talking to an inanimate object. There was nothing to be done when he lodged his restraint other than joining him in your armchair, quietly, permissively.

Every day, like this one, spent with him had you convinced it couldn’t be surpassed in enjoyment. And every day, your expectations had been exceeded. That was something you’d never think could happen. Soon, the cares and worries of this Winter melted as the avenue of Spring had unfolded before you. A long path, surrounded with flower blossoms and diamond coated seas, or in other words, the unfathomable had fallen into your hands.

The remainder of this pleasant Sunday had been consumed by The Odyssey and Jungkook’s voice singing its words as smoothly as the waves surrounding the lighthouse and small conversations during the pauses of his reading. One struck you into reminiscence of the first night you met.

“You never answered my question.” He paused, flipping through the many unanswered questions he’d left with you. Jungkook raised his brow to order specification of which one you referred to.

“What makes us human?” The due date of your essay passed over two months ago, however this didn’t diminish your curiosity to know his answer.

“In all honesty,” He paused and looked to assure you would believe his answer would be honest, or honest enough to cater your satisfaction. “I think it’s our desire to achieve the last best thing.”

Every fiber in you compiled its own list of questions in regards to his yet again ambiguous answer, though you had grown to accept that as a part of Jungkook. And you sure as hell accepted Jungkook, ambiguity and all.

“Hm.” It didn’t take a mind reader to know you had theorized any and all connotations branching off from his answer and he didn’t mind that you could be lost in search of whatever the actual meaning of it was.

The moon was in its fullest bloom tonight, and tomorrow, it would begin to wane into a crescent then into nothing but an empty space full of new and perhaps fortunate opportunities. Jungkook found the romance of this lunar phase well equipped for the dusty instrument he discovered in the base of the lighthouse.

“I found something that I think you’d like.” Your ears perked like a dog when it’d been presented with treats. “But you have to go get it. It’s in the other room.”

Whatever this surprise was, it had excited you enough to ignore how you’d have to descend and re-ascend the many stairs that would surely tire you. Your eager legs would have jumped right from the platform to the bottom of the lighthouse if the reality didn’t result in broken bones. As you rushed to the door to the other room, you pushed through and discovered a telescope standing in the corner of the otherwise empty space. A few moments later you were hustling back up the stairs, the telescope making the re-ascension of the stairs ten times as strenuous. All the while, Jungkook just stared in amusement at the way you struggled your way to the platform.

“No, I don’t want any help, thank you!” You said sarcastically through grunts of exertion before positioning the instrument in front of the window.

“Well, I didn’t offer you any, so, you’re very welcome.” He stood on the other side of the telescope, admiring the way you fell so easily in love with it, hands scaling the length of the scope.

“Do I just?” You pointed to the eyepiece at the end of the rod and he nodded. You brought your eye to the magnifying glass which was flooded with the enchanting glow of the stars. You’d never seen them this close, but this little gift of Jungkook’s had catapulted you into the illuminated abyss of the night sky. A measly woah was all that squeaked from your voice, because all the other words were stolen by the stars.

“Can you find any constellations?” He’d seen all the stars in the galaxy; that he was sure of. But none had shone brighter than the person he couldn’t tear his eyes from. Three o’clock had crept onto the antique clock, this late hour had worn down Jungkook’s walls completely as the soft glow of adornment laminated his eyes.

“I think I see ORion's belt. That’s the only one I know other than the Big Dipper.” You laughed at your own lack of knowledge of the stars. Knowledge didn’t seem to matter though, the beauty of the stardusted sky had taken care of that deficiency. You lifted yourself away from the telescope, allowing Jungkook a turn to stargaze.

“Have you heard of the Astral Plane?” Jungkook asking you something other than, ‘how was your day’, was a rare occurrence which most likely meant this was of some importance.

“I’ve heard of it, but I think I’ll need you to refresh my memory.” You really did need clarification on what exactly the Astral Plane entailed, though you mainly just wanted to hear him explain it.

“Some say it lies in the fourth dimension. It isn’t tangible or something that can be touched. It lies between everything, every atom, every cell, every city and forest and mountain and even between the crevasses of one’s own mind and soul. A place like this is full of divinity and complete attainment and the way it is reached has been theorized by many.” Jungkook’s meticulous readjustments of the telescope had you wondering which constellations he was searching for, or maybe he’d been looking for Venus or Mars or the Moon. “Some say you arrive there in your dreams, or when you reach enlightenment, or when death draws its curtain on you… I-I don't know why but I’ve always thought that it was stitched into the sky. Far beyond our galaxy, maybe the Astral Plane has situated itself in between each star, just like it does our souls, and exists as the vastness of outer space.” It turned out he wasn't looking for any of those things, he was looking for the Astral Plane.

Could the heat rising throughout your body be merely adoration, or was it something along the lines of a forlorn longing? When he spoke, you felt this sensation growing dense in your bones; you felt a gravitation towards him.

“Seems about right to me.” Fondness had stained your tone which filled some void in Jungkook’s hungry heart, and he’d failed to predict you were the one that would be able to settle it. “Maybe we’ll never reach the Astral Plane, but at least I’m here with you.”

When you said this, the hairs on his arms pointed towards the ceiling. For once in a very, very long time, Jungkook felt a euphoric resurgence striking through the catacombs of his soul and hot tears dripping down the expanse of his cheeks, to the tip of his chin, and onto the glass scope that was shielding this sudden emotional combustion. He blinked away the tears to the best of his abilities and turned away from you and the telescope and the sky. Jungkook felt the push of air from your movement towards him, but he shifted further away.

“Are yo-”

“I found a cluster of stardust, go look.” He averted you from him and you always fell victim to every trick in his book.

“Wow, that’s amazing!” The grip you had on the telescope was firm, like you were trying to hold onto the stars themselves.

“Amazing.” He said. This reiteration wasn’t for the stars, however. He wondered if you knew that. He wondered if you could feel how consumed he was by your magnificence under the full moon that reigned with gentleness over the waves. The once wild tides, now moving with the same serenity and romance embedded into Jungkook and this lighthouse. He wondered if you could see he had been emotionally disrobed and bearing all his affection for you. And he wondered how he was so okay with that.

Six o’clock didn’t feel like six o’clock. Your eyes that struggled to keep open told you otherwise, so again you and him were parting ways as the sun had begun dawning over the horizon and there were no more stars to fill the hours slipping away. Jungkook did all he could to compose himself. He’d offered to walk you out; you reached the door that led to the dewy, Spring air awaiting your departure from the lighthouse.

“Wait, ___!” This exclamation echoed louder than the beating of his crimson heart. After stepping through the threshold, you turned to meet his gaze, teary-eyed from what you guessed was from lack of sleep. Teary-eyed from what he knew was because of another egregious goodbye. “Thank you.”

This moment seemed fitting to test the theory that actions speak louder than words. This moment called for the lapse of courage in need to act, not speak. This moment was the moment when you finally expressed the thankfulness that, to you, seemed to outweigh his by pressing a tender kiss to his cheek. It was much colder than your lips and the docile warmth of the morning, but once you pulled away the warmth had stained his cheek.

Jungkook felt like every cell in his body was evaporating into the space around him. Like the way a fire would extend its heat into the air or the way Spring melted away the frost ridden Winter, your act had covered him in a blanket of love and refuge from the loneliness once vaulting his heart. And it certainly spoke louder than words; all the words in every book Jungkook had ever read and the words left unsaid and the words passing between everyone in the universe.

“I’m the one who should be thanking you, Hermit! You helped me see Orion’s Belt up close and personal!” You called as your strides began a slow fleet from a laughing Jungkook. You waved, now standing a generous distance from him, and he found this gave him the space needed to finally let his tears fall.

“I love you.” He whispered, hoping the wind would carry it to your ears and heart.

A revelation had overcome him, and no matter how many times he tried to wipe the tears away, they’d be instantly replenished like a stream of water rushing from a conquered dam, spilling over endlessly, with all control suspended in the air around him.

Was it finally here? The last, best thing?

---

A week after the stargazing, your mind had mapped out the stars as you too searched for that Astral Plane. To you, Jungkook’s proposition of it being strewn in the night sky was the only theoretical that made sense. You wanted to flaunt your newfound passion for this concept he’d introduced, and admittedly - and more importantly - you wanted to kiss him again, leading to yet another blissful walk down the seashore to the lighthouse. The air was warm but not humid, carrying a breeze that evened out the sun’s heat nicely. A few pillows of clouds were cascading through the sky, never staying in one spot for too long; you’d come to appreciate each one’s temporary presence and when they passed, you grew to appreciate that as well. The gaze once fixed on the sand had now traveled to the waves of much gentler motion than ever before.

This walk, unlike the dozens of others, felt different. The streets looked lovely and the air felt clean in your chest, giving you a pleasant journey far more intimate than the last. Then you realized, it felt like you were walking back home.

When you grew closer to the lighthouse, you noticed the curtains had been drawn which was strikingly unusual for a sunny day such as this one. This was a passing observation as you made your way to the base of the lighthouse.

Through the door to the room before the lighthouse, you were taken aback to find your armchair sitting in front of the table. you walked up to discover a single, folded parchment sealed with a red wax stamp labeled with your name along the top of the paper.

This felt eerie, for some reason, and you called out his name only to be met with silence, before sitting yourself down and unsealing the note.

It read in his voice:

My Dearest, ___

I wrote this to relay a lot of things left unsaid. The first being goodbye. I’m sorry to have to leave you like this, though no amount of remorse could possibly appease my actions.

Your heartbeat had grown rampant, until your eyes read those words. It was then when it stopped altogether. Still, you continued to read.

I kept things from you like the fact that our encounter in the town’s square was all but coincidental. The truth is scary, and my truth would have turned you away from the beginning. It was selfish, I admit, but I do not think I could have endured such a loss. Forgive me for keeping you in the dark all this time, but I am beyond gratified for what you granted me in spite of that.

Maybe it might seem cruel. You are not alone in feeling that — never alone. But, we were never meant to spend every Sunday morning, or Friday evening, or Wednesday afternoon together to watch the waves float along with the hours lost reading to you; I knew this was not the end of your story, just mine.

The books I have read over and over have imprisoned me in search of the “next best thing”. To my dismay, I thought I had run out of time to find it. But then you came along. You helped set me free by allowing me to live out a few more “best things” through the way you shared your life with me, unselfishly, warmly, kindly— You helped me move on.

I know you too will move on from this. I hope I could at least leave you with the tools and courage to find each “next best thing” in store. If not that, then this lighthouse, open to you and only you, and a myriad of good memories to ease our parting. I know in my heart you deserve nothing less.

I hope you find contentment somewhere in the sea or on the sand or in the stars, or perhaps somewhere in between.

Once you do, we will meet again within the Astral Plane, my love. I swear it. And if you miss me, just look through the telescope and find me woven in the spaces amidst Orion’s Belt.

Thank you. Again and again I thank you and it is still not enough. Thank you for you, for your warmth, for your salvation, for your smile, for your endless questions, for re-introducing me to the aroma of vanilla and patchouli but it was not as sweet as your companionship, for putting good use of the right armchair and the view from our window, for making the odyssey a little less lonely to read, and thank you for stepping into my lighthouse and my life.

Don't you see, it was you. You were my last, best thing.

with love and sorrow,

Jeon Jungkook

Before you got to the end of the letter, you were racing up the spiraling stairs, ignoring the burn in your tightened chest, how the air in the lighthouse had suffocated your lungs. The dizziness that blurred your eyes had not slowed your climb up the stairs, and the wetness of your tears now seeping into his letter.

You reached the top, The Odyssey greeting you on the chair Jungkook would have been seated in. Your breaths were staggered and warm, filling the mournful emptiness of the lighthouse.

“Jungkook.” You whispered. You begged for a reply. The curtains were drawn over the window, like never before, and exposed a bronze plaque peeking out from the end of the fabric. You pushed the drapes aside to read what was engraved into the metal plate and the first page of The Odyssey that hung below it.

In loving memory of our beloved son, Jeon Jungkook. May he rest in peace. 1918-1942.

The note below read:

The Odyssey

Jeon and ___ Lighthouse.

You pieced the puzzle together, finally. And with that, came the final picture, so beautiful and mesmerizing and everything you could have ever hoped for, and more.

“Jungkook.” You repeated as a bid of farewell, with a heart full of satisfaction and content, and Jungkook. You pressed the letter to your chest in hopes his words would mend your aching heart.

And it was true, he was not your last best thing, only one of them.

But he was undoubtedly your most cherished and beloved best thing.

714 notes · View notes

silencebetrayer · 4 years ago

Text

Little People - An Irish Fairy Tale Part 2

The reign of dreams and roses

"Don't bother them, my dear. You were lucky they found your little trap hilarious!" "Mister O'Reilly, what happened in this valley? Why is everyone warning me against the little people?" A long silence followed, during which the old man sipped his Connemara peated whiskey. "Sweetheart, you may hear a lot of tales down at the pub, but also in our family there's something to tell. You've never known your cousin Billy, haven't you? Well, he might tell you about that time he became slave of the Queen of Spiny Roses for a whole moon cycle." "Slave?" "Don't be surprised. They're ancient souls. They conceive only those rapports they can understand and here in the citadel for a thousand years there was a Count and his servants. They don't understand this free life thing, without owners, where everyone seems equal to each other. They have a very strict hierarchy and I can promise you.. if you keep giving enough rope, they will tie you up. At least, that's what happened to Billy." "What did Billy have to do for the Queen?" "At that time Billy would have sold his soul to fill his glass, to those vices the good people like to cling. A night in the woods a little crowd of fairies bumped into giant Billy, the Queen ordered her folks to bring their guest a glass of the bitter Spirit's nectar. He guzzle that witches' brew without a single word. He could swear it was tasty like ambrosia of all forgotten Gods. The Queen claimed a payment for his drink and Billy started to mock her 'Is it I pay you?' said Billy 'could I not just take you up and put you in my pocket as easily as a blackberry?' The Queen did not let go of that insolence and the good lords tightened the invisible harness they caught him in and led him to their ruler like a steed. She imposed a vow of obedience till the end of next moon cycle and on occasion she showed off their rivals her power over him, claiming his tongue as footrest." "I don't get what you're saying, sir. You did tell me we've got power over fairy manifestation.. that it depends on our thoughts and our desires, our hopes and fears." The old man smiled "From what slavery would a man be freed? From drink-slavery or from a queen-slavery?" The girl understood that story was concealing a metaphor of redemption and humility. The old man's stories are indeed so bewildering: you never know where the symbol ends and the anecdote begins. "Anyway when we found Billy he was covered in stings from the waist up. He said the ball of Roses court had been held on his chest. A ball where every damsel's heel is a thorn of a flower and all skirts are petals. To us he had fallen in a field full of nettles." "What a strange story. I would never be enslaved by such a wicked Queen. Why didn't he rise up against her, I wonder." The old man shrugged muttering a proverb of his parts "The lake is not burdened by its swan, the steed by its bridle, or a man by the soul that is in him".

***

That night Elizabeth wrote a quick note in Gaelic by the windowsill:"I want to meet you. Come and see me.". She left a sugar cube as gift. The girl rolled over her bed restlessly, hoping her message would reach its destination and, as often happens, sleep came all of a sudden, like a swoon. She found herself in a very strange place never seen before. It resempled an ancient kitchen on the basement of a castle, with no windows, red briks as walls and roof, painted cardboard as wallpaper on one side, a makeshift chimney. Outside the noise of the rain was heavy and emptied out of the comforting sensation with which it gifted melancholic souls. She was identifying in that room a combination of minuscule things. All chairs were small wooden cubes of an old child's game, and so was the table. They weren't comfy, but pieces of cloth stuffed with wool, roughly sewn, gave softness to the seat. A pocket mirror served as tray for a miniature porcelaine tea set, a bit chipped, but lovely at first sight. The sugar cube she had left in gift was lying right next to it, with an awl sticked at its center. The girl realized she was falling in a bizarre dream scenario, but something real was also taking place. "Is this a dream?" "Of course, little girl" answered a middle-aged male voice from the outside. The small door of that sort of kitchen was a metal shutter. A man was moving it with his shoulder, carrying a bundle of sticks or twigs bound together and a bucket of water. Covered with a waterproof plastic bag, the man laid down all the materials and cast a glance over the table to be sure everything was in place. His big nose and bushy eyebrows gave him an austere touch and there was something of the craftsman's wisdom in his skilled hands and his silence. He hunged his unusual coat on the knight's head of a chessboard (his clothes rack, she guessed). The girl was paralyzed and hugged herself in the nightgown. She wasn't cold, the atmosphere was warm enough, she was feeling a sense of vulnerability that made her closed off. The man took care of the fireplace and fill the water on the teapot. "Come closer to the fireplace, kid!" He had a raspy voice and an unjustified scowl to her feeling. "Why'd you bring me here?" He looked her up and down like a fool, then he nodded toward the table where a piece of paper was serving as tablecloth. 'I want to meet you.' read the girl, recognizing her handwriting. "But.. are you Tuvia!?" After a moment of silence, during which the man was trying to catch the sincerity of the question, he laughed outright "AHAHAH Me? That leaf in the wind? Do I seem a rain spirit?! I thought you were a smart one, kid, but if these are the premises.." The girl didn't seem to appreciate the little man humour "So Sir.. you picked up a message that was not addressed to you. Why should you interfere with my correspondence?!" "Correspondence? Look, sweetie.. what do you think we have a mail service here in Bluebell forest? We give more values to a tree then your own kind.. we don't waste their sheets for a futile message." "Who the hell are you, anyway? Little people? What are you doing here in my dreams?" "That's how we meet for the first time. We don't accept invitations from strangers." The teapot started to splutter on the fireplace, the steam bubbles looked like small domes and the water sounded so much deeper then usual.. she understood that her size was making every sound so alien and unsettling. From the infusion aromas of wildflowers started to spread in the room. "What's your name?" "My dear, what sort of question is that? I'm the guardian spirit of O'Really's family. My name's O'Really, of course" "So.. Do Guardian spirits take the name from the family they protect?" He didn't answer. He didn't seem to like rhetorical question, but was forcing himself to stay kind and served the tea calmly with a piece of sugar cube in it. "Listen, child. We Home spirits don't talk more than is strictly necessary. Our silence is our invisibility. So let me get right to the point: you heard elder O'Reilly advice before.. Do not upset the spirits of these woods. He's telling you this for your own good" Being called 'child" from that Spirit turned Elizabeth against him. She changed attitude and the tone of voices turned sharp and bitter. "So you just don't collect someonelse's letters, you also eavesdrop their conversations!" Talking to her was a great exercise in patience, he acknowledged. "It's not what you're thinking.. I can't just ignore whatever happens inside these walls. We're born from the feelings of this family, if they are worried for you, so am I. That's why I appear in your dream." "I weep from your sudden sentimentality" she said sarcastically "but I'm willing to bet that you were able to eavesdrop on our conversations simply because your lair is not so far from the fireplace" "I'm warning you, don't try to find it. You'd cause trouble to the O'Really family!" "Perhaps you should've considered that before you invited me in first place, you silly little man! Now, give this KID here a good reason she should not wake up and start to play cat-and-mouse game with you?" She sipped the tea, staring at the little spirit with an imperious smile that didn't bode well. "A reason, you say? With humans reasoning is not persuasive. I just pointed the sill you shall not cross, my dear, I didn't mean to push you through it" "Advice I didn't ask for" she crossed her arms and the situation freezed up. The home spirit resigned himself. "How do I wake?" she asked. "Don't worry, soon enough you'll be laying in your bed. Humans have control over the waking hours, but we spirits have our revenge in dreams realm. You're lucky we didn't inherit your cruelty. Anyway, if I can't dissuade you, I will be your messenger and maybe one day I will lead you to Tuvia" "I don't get if you're here to sabotage me or to help me" "We should not threaten the delicate balance currently in place in Bluebell forest. The Queen of Roses is the keeper of this equilibrium, she can't bear humans intrusiveness into her reign. Especially from someone that does look like her." "Do I look like the Queen of Roses?" Elizabeth's questions were to him as sharp and wit as the echo of a well. "Tuvia fought The Court of Roses, you know?" "That light thingie? He's fragile like a blade of grass. I bet if I dare to lay down in the garden he'd become a stain on my dress. Also, if he's so brave why isn't he in the forest, why doesn't he just keep fighiting?" "He's an exile, he no longer knows the comfort of a border. He's devoted to the rain, cause he sees himself and his destiny in the clouds. A new Queen would save him. But he doesn't want to be saved!" The Spirit of O'Reilly got pretty mouthy with sadness. Elizabeth recognized some of the distinctive features of elder Mr O'Reilly and the hardness of Mrs O'Reilly too. A weird mix of both personality traits. Elizabeth sipped the infusion, this time fully enjoying the aroma of freshly picked flowers. She felt her body tossing in her sleep.. she didn't want to wake right now. O'Reilly spirit stared at her then nodded as a farewell. When she opened her eyes, the Spirit's last words were echoing in her head, filling the heart with an odd hope "a new Queen.." she repeated to herself. She could have sworn to feel the wildflowers taste on the tip of her tongue.

To Be Continued...

Ita version

Il regno delle rose e dei sogni

"Non disturbarli, ragazza mia. Sei stata fortunata che abbiano preso con umorismo la tua piccola trappola! In qualche modo devono aver trovato la tua provocazione uno spasso!" "Signor O'Reilly, cosa è successo in questa valle per cui tutti mi mettono in guardia da loro" Ci fu un lungo silenzio in cui il vecchio sorseggiò il suo Whiskey, rigorosamente torbato del Connemara. "Sweetheart, ne potresti sentire un bel pò giù al pub. Ma in famiglia abbiamo già di che raccontare. Tu non lo hai mai conosciuto il cugino Billy. Beh, lui potrebbe dirti di quella volta che restò schiavo per una luna intera della regina delle fate Rosa Spinae." "Schiavo?" "Non ti stupire, sono anime antiche, concepiscono solo i rapporti che conoscono e per più di 1000 anni qui nella rocca c'era un conte e i suoi servi, non la capiscono questa faccenda moderna del vivere senza padroni, dove tutti sembrano uguali eccetera. Hanno una rigida gerarchia e puoi giurarci che se continui a dargli spago ti daranno il bel servito, come fu per il vecchio Billy" "Cosa fece Billy per la regina?" "A quel tempo Billy si sarebbe dannato l'anima per riempirsi il bicchiere, ed è ai vizi che il buon popolo si appiglia. Quando una notte in un bosco la piccola schiera si imbattè in quel gigante, la regina ordinò che gli fosse portato un bicchiere del fiele degli spiriti, lui non se lo fece ripetere e lo trangugiò d'un fiato. Billy giurò che era il nettare liquoroso di tutti gli dei ormai dimenticati. La regina reclamò un pagamento e Billy la derise 'Io pagare te? Ma se posso metterti tranquillamente in tasca come una mora!' La regina non passò sopra quell'insolenza e il buon popolo lo legò a briglie invisibili che non potevano essere sciolte e quel che è peggio gli impose il voto dell'obbedienza per una luna intera. Di venne il destriero della regina, ma all'occorrenza la regina dava sfoggio di potere alle sue rivali, reclamando la lingua del gigante come poggiapiedi" "Non mi torna quel che dite, signore. Avevate detto che noi abbiamo potere sulla manifestazione delle fate e che dipendono dai nostri desideri" Il vecchio sorrise "Quale schiavitù potrebbe desiderare un uomo? Quella del suo bicchiere o della sua regina?" La ragazza capì che quella storia celava una metafora di redenzione e umiltà. Avevano questo di disorientante, i racconti del vecchio: non sapevi mai dove finiva il simbolo e cominciava l'aneddoto. "Comunque quando lo trovarono Billy era ricoperto di punture dalla vita in su. Disse che sul suo petto si era tenuto il ballo della corte delle Rosa Spinae, in cui ogni damigella ha per tacco una spina di un fiore e per gonna i suoi petali, ma per molti era solo caduto su un campo di ortiche" "Che storia strana. Ma io non sarei mai schiava di una regina così perfida. Perchè non si è ribellato, mi chiedo?" commentò lei "Il cigno non pesa sul suo lago, la briglia non pesa al suo cavallo, né l'anima sull'uomo che la possiede" cantilenò l'uomo, facendo spallucce.

Quella notte scrisse una piccola nota in gaelico che lasciò davanti al davanzale. Diceva soltanto: "Voglio conoscervi. Venitemi a trovare", lasciò una zolletta di zucchero in dono. Si rigirava nel letto inquieta, nella speranza che il messaggio arrivasse a destinazione, e come spesso accade il sonno arrivò come un deliquio, senza preavviso. Si ritrovò in un luogo che non aveva mai visto prima d'ora. Una specie di antica cucina, senza finestre, mattoni rossi tutt'intorno, carta da parati di cartone con le sembianze di un giardino davano più respiro alla stanza. Fuori il rumore della pioggia era pesante e svuotato della sensazione di conforto che regala agli animi malinconici. Individuava negli oggetti della stanza una combinazione di cose minuscole. Le sedie erano piccoli cubetti di legno, appartenuti a qualche antico gioco. così come il tavolo. Non erano per nulla comodi, ma i pezzi di stoffa imbottita e cucita grossolanamente davano sollievo alla seduta. Uno specchietto da beauty asserviva alla funzione di vassoio sul quale erano poggiate tazzine che potevano provenire da un servizio da the in miniatura per bambole di porcellana, un pò sbeccato, ma grazioso a vedersi. La zolletta che aveva donato stava su un lato del ripiano di legno, con una specie di punteruolo conficcato al suo centro. La ragazza capì che era un sogno, ma aveva qualcosa di reale. "E' un sogno, questo?" "Certo, ragazzina" Rispose la voce di un uomo di mezza età dall'esterno. La porticina della cucina non era che un pezzo di serranda di ferro, l'uomo entrò con in mano dei legnetti rilegati e un secchiello d'acqua, avvolto in un impermeabile di tela. Poggiò l'occorrente a lato della porta, le sopracciglia cespugliose gli conferivano un'aria severa e le mani vissute, una saggezza artigianale. Appese l'insolito impermeabile sulla testa di un cavallo di scacchiera, che evidentemente fungeva da appendiabiti. La ragazza era paralizzata e si stringeva nella sua camicia da notte, non per il freddo, l'atmosfera era calda nonostante il rifugio sembrasse improvvisato, erano le pareti laterali di mattone ad emanare calore, ma avvertiva un senso di vulnerabilità che la faceva chiudere a riccio. L'uomo si premurò di accendere il fuoco in un buco del mattone e di riempire la teiera sospesa sul paiolo sostenuto da una corda e un ago, dalla capocchia ornata da una manigliuola. "Vieni più vicino alla luce del fuoco, ragazzina!" Aveva una voce roca e il tono presentava un cipiglio ingiustificato agli occhi di lei. "Si può sapere perchè mi trovo qui?" L'uomo la squadrò come a darle della matta, poi con un cenno del capo fece notare che la tavola era apparecchiata sul suo frammento di pergamena "Voglio conoscervi", riconobbe la ragazza. La sua scrittura. "Ma.. siete.. siete Tuvia?!" Dopo un attimo di silenzio, in cui l'uomo la fissava per cogliere in lei la sincerità della sua domanda, scoppiò in una fragorosa risata "AHAHAH Io? Quell'uccell di bosco di Tuvia!? Ho l'aria da piovano, io? Ti credevo sveglia ma se queste sono le premesse.." La ragazza non sembrava aver apprezzato l'umorismo dell'omino "Allora signore.. avete forse raccolto un messaggio non rivolto a voi!? Come vi permettete di interferire con la mia Corrispondenza!" "Corrispondenza? Senti dolcezza, cosa pensi che abbiamo il servizio postale in quel di Bluebell? Noi ai fogli d'albero diamo ben altro valore. Non lo sprechiamo per messaggi futili e sconsiderati." "Chi diavolo siete voi e che ci fate nei miei sogni?" "E' così che ci si incontra noi, la prima volta! Non accettiamo inviti dagli sconosciuti" La teiera cominciava a scoppiettare sul fuoco, le bolle di vapore avevano un aspetto cupolare e un suono più cupo del normale, dovevano essere quelle dimensioni a rendere ogni rumore anche il più familiare totalmente estraneo e inquietante. Nella stanza cominciò a diffondersi un odore di fiori che proveniva dall'infuso. "Come vi chiamate?" "Che razza di domanda è? Sono lo spirito protettore degli O'Reilly, quindi mi chiamo come loro" "Gli spiriti protettori portano il nome della famiglia?" Non rispose, sembrava un pò scocciato dalla retoricità delle domande, ma la ragazza aveva l'impressione che si sforzasse di essere gentile. Aveva messo in infusione una manciata di briciole di the e polline che raccoglieva da una bustina dilaniata come un sacchetto. Versò l'infusione nella tazzina che stava di fronte a lei. Staccò un paio di pezzi dalla zolletta per lei, sapeva persino come prendeva il the. "Ascolta ragazzina, noi spiriti della casa non parliamo più dello stretto necessario. Il nostro silenzio è la nostra invisibilità, quindi fammi andare al punto: Hai sentito cosa ha detto il buon vecchio O'Reilly stasera no? 'Non disturbare gli spiriti del bosco', lo ha detto per il tuo bene." Al sentirsi chiamare 'ragazzina' il tono della voce di lei si fece più risentito e squillante "Quindi oltre che profanatore di lettere, anche un origliatore maleducato" L'omino sospirò con enorme esercizio di pazienza "Non è come pensi.. non mi è possibile ignorare quello che succede entro queste mura, siamo nati dai sentimenti della famiglia che ha costruito questa casa. Se ti appaio in sogno è perchè questa famiglia si preoccupa per te" "il vostro sentimentalismo mi commuove" disse sarcasticamente, "ma sono pronta a scommettere che voi avete origliato per il semplice fatto che questo vostro rifugio si trova vicino al focolare" "Ti avverto ragazzina, non cercare di trovarlo, causeresti un dolore agli O'Reilly" "Dovevate pensarci prima di invitarmi qui, razza di stupido omino. E adesso datemi una buona ragione per cui questa 'ragazzina'" rimarcò la parola "non dovrebbe svegliarsi e venire a farvi fare la fine del topo" Sorseggiava la tazza di the adesso, fissando l'uomo con un sorriso imperioso, che non prometteva nulla di buono. "Ragioni? Se c'è qualcosa che so degli esseri umani è che la logica con voi non è persuasiva. Ho solo indicato la soglia da non varcare, ragazza mia, ma non era mia intenzione regalarvi la determinazione per attraversarla." "Il vostro consiglio non è richiesto" Incrociò le braccia. Calò un pò di gelo tra i due. Il sadismo giovanile di lei aveva fatto affiorare al viso del vecchio uno sguardo triste, leggermente rassegnato. "Come faccio a svegliarmi?" "Non ti preoccupare, presto sarai sul tuo letto, bambina. Voi avrete pur il controllo dei momenti di veglia, ma noi abbiamo la nostra rivincita nei sogni e sei fortunata che non abbiamo la vostra stessa crudeltà. Comunque.. se non posso dissuaderti, sarò il tuo messaggero e un giorno, forse, ti porterò da lui." disse quasi burbero "Quasta poi.. volevate sabotarmi e adesso vorreste anche farmi da guida" "La foresta di Bluebell si basa su un fragile equilibrio, il custode di quell'equilibrio, la Regina delle Rose, non ama l'invadenza umana, specie da una che le somiglia così tanto" "Io... somiglierei alla Regina?" Ignorò ancora quelle domande che avevano la stessa arguzia dell'eco di un pozzo. "Tuvia l'ha combattuta, sai.. la Corte delle Rose Spinae." "Quel cosino? Ma se è fragile come un filo d'erba. Scommetto che se mi stendessi in giardino, potrebbe diventare una macchia sul mio vestito. Se è così coraggioso, poi, perchè non è nella foresta a combattere?" "Lo vedi in giardino perchè è un esule e non conosce più la comodità di un confine. Si è consacrato alla pioggia, perchè si riconosce nelle nuvole. Una nuova regina.. questo lo salverebbe. E lui.. non vuole essere salvato!" Lo spirito degli O'Reilly con la tristezza si era fatto stranamente loquace, riconosceva qualcosa nel vecchio in lui, aveva la stessa dolcezza sotto una scorza dura che era più simile a quella della signora O'Reilly, uno strano mix. Elizabeth sorseggiò quell'infuso, stavolta godendone appieno l'aroma. Era come di tiglio. Avvertì che si stava agitando nel sonno. Non voleva svegliarsi proprio ora. Lo spirito degli O'Reilly la fissava e con un cenno del capo sembrò quasi accomiatarsi. Quando riaprì gli occhi sul suo letto, le ultime parole dello Spirito riecheggiavano ancora nelle sue orecchie riempiendola di non so quale speranza.. "Una nuova regina", si ripeteva. Poteva giurare di sentire ancora il sapore di tiglio sulla punta della lingua.

#fairy #sizeshifter #giantess #tiny #giant/tiny #male fairy #ireland #irlanda #gigantessa #g/t #g/t writing #g/t fiction #g/t fluff #g/t community #borrowers #g/t sfw #g/t story #g/t fantasy #gentle g/t

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genesisrose74 · 4 years ago

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Requested by @pacificamott -> Hi I love the idea of a memory matchup its sounds amazing. If it's a alright could I get one for aot and mha please? I think one of my favourite memories was it was the day before the summer holidays and virtually nobody was gonna show up for the last day lol. Me and my friends met up and it was warm and bright and just summery you know? We barely ever met up as a group so it was nice to be together and we went to a field surrounded by woodland. It was so peaceful,the grass was so green and the trees were so beautiful. We had this cheap football we found and decided to muck about cause none of us were any good at it but we pretended to play like we were professional footballers and we were running about and it was so funny. My stomach hurt from laughing so hard. We then went to the river and jumped in. None of us had any swimsuits so our clothes got soaked but it was a nice cool down. It was nearing sunset but it was still warm outside. It was so much fun and I just remember feeling so happy that we had the whole summer ahead of us and we were all together it was just amazing.Everything was surrounded by trees and woodland and it just made me feel really grounded and happy to be alive. Hope that's okay :)

Hi there! This is such a cute and peaceful memory, it made me smile the whole way through reading it. For Attack on Titan, this person immediately came to mind, so for your first matchup I paired you with…

I am so jealous of you because Armin would just be so enamored with everything you do, and the memories you both make on that warm summer day simply emphasized his emotions tenfold. That whole part about jumping in the river reminded me of the scene from the ocean, where he was just laughing and messing around in the water with such a feeling of fulfillment that you could see it materializing in the air around him. The fact that this time he’s jumping in the water with you makes him even happier.

Get ready to be blinded by his smile, because it’s rare and soft and beautiful. It tells you everything you need to know about how grateful he is to have you there in the moment, but he still tells you out loud anyways. Drag him onto the blanket-covered grass in a sunny patch and dry off from the water, and share stupid observations about what the rest of your friends are doing on their free day.

Connie, Sasha, and Jean are running around and tackling each other like maniacs, and Armin will start laughing his head off if you start commentating their shenanigans. He’ll join in on the play-by-play as well, until you’re both eventually roped up into playing their little game of makeshift football, and chaos unfolds when you manage to pull Historia into the mix because she’s surprisingly good at being aggressive when she gets into it.

Armin is the type of guy to pull you into the edge of the forest, climbing the biggest tree you can find on the outskirts and talking about everything you can see from its branches. He’s super sweet and always attentive to make sure you won’t fall down and hurt yourself. Probably asks to hold your hand all flustered-like, but relaxes quickly when you agree to it. “Just so I know you won’t fall!” the sweetheart insists when you lightheartedly tease him, but the crimson on his cheeks says otherwise.

He’s not particularly the best at the physical games that your friend group holds throughout the day, but no one is really trying hard to be good at it so it’s fun regardless. I don’t know why, but Armin seems like the person to be unexpectedly gifted at catching things, so Jean keeps throwing the ball to him and laughing when Connie’s already there to chase his ass. Please scold Jean for getting him targeted every play or else someone is going to break a limb.

I think Armin adores the sunset, and I have no other explanation for this besides the fact that he’s an ocean person. Sunsets are an integral part of the beach experience, so he easily grew to love the colors and the general warmth of it all. When you’re both leaving and those familiar hues start painting the sky, he gets super happy and will point out all the different shades that are visible.

Give him a big hug at the end of the day oh my gosh — while he often gets blushy at close contact, it’s been such a calming experience that he returns your embrace with full enthusiasm. He’s got such a pretty smile when thanking you for spending time with him, and it’ll only widen if you promise to do it again sometime in the near future.

All in all a really wholesome and happy dynamic for you and Armin (as it should be!!). Everything is just warm, peaceful, and beautiful when you’re both together, no matter the moment or memory. It’s incredibly important to have someone you can rely on who can offer a welcoming hand, and luckily you both act as that pillar for the other.

And then for your bnha matchup, I paired you with...

Kirishima is the perfect mix of fun and relaxed, so having a peaceful, happy memory like that with you sounds right up his alley. While not super competitive to the point of becoming unbearable in a fun game, he still likes to play around and mess with his friends in those sorts of situations, so expect him to constantly be running around playing football after someone proposes the team game. He will whine if he’s not on your team, though. Expect lots of bear hugs from behind if you make a good run or catch a hard passed ball during your little unofficial match.

He loves splashing around in the river, too. His hair gets all flattened and goes past his ears when he finally gets out of the water, and he’ll try to make you laugh while shaking it all out like an adorable golden retriever. Also play chicken with him! Get on his shoulders and challenge as many classmate duos as you can in one afternoon — they all make for some very interesting competition.

Like I said earlier though, Kiri can be super chill when he wants to be, and that side of him shows during one-on-one time with you. If you or anyone from your friend group brings snacks to your summer adventure outdoors, he will make an effort to set up a cute little picnic scene, simply to eat and talk about whatever. Also don’t ask why, but he gives off huge vibes of someone who would love to cloud watch with you. He comes up with the most ridiculous things sometimes, but always manages to make you see the shape he points out.

“That’s clearly a dinosaur playing on a keyboard.”

“Eijiro, how in the world can you see something that specific?”

“No, I promise! The tail starts right there...”

Just the biggest but most kindhearted dork you’ll ever have the blessing of knowing. He’s down for anything you want to do whenever you both have free time, although he makes great suggestions/ideas if you can’t think of anything in the moment. Want to start a new game with the whole friend group? He’ll grab your hand and let you lead the way. Prefer just spending time together? Done deal. Go out of your way to do something he would be interested in though, and he’ll melt completely. His quirk may be tough but his heart is one of the purest and softest you’ll see.

Also just a side note: he’s the type of guy to play a song on his phone speaker and dance in a field with you. Not dancing super elegantly, that’s for sure, but silly and fun and in the way that makes you laugh so hard it hurts your side when he twirls you around clumsily. Mina, Denki, and Sero get a kick out of narrating it when they find you both goofing around as light music plays through the open area, and Kiri will wave them off with a blush (just a shade short of his hair color).

He’s very goofy and lovable, but also very calm for the most part, so summer days like the one from your memory are often super relaxed in nature. Kiri always manages to make it fun regardless of time or place, but lets just say that he especially enjoys those specific little moments with you: where the grass is green and fresh, the water is cool, and everything feels hopeful.

#genesisrose 1k event #milestone event #memory matchup #aot matchup #bnha matchup #armin arlert #kirishima eijiro

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sonnetos · 4 years ago

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@yksha: there is a cloud, drawn over the skies in venti’s eyes. the vastness straitened, the waters murky. something weighs heavy, has dimmed the spark in their eye. it hurts to see. it shouldn’t. it does. xiao does not touch, does not reach, not if not necessary. but is it not ? tonight he learns something: perhaps touch is easier than words, sometimes. arms open, the motion so unfamiliar and yet … it comes easy then. the embrace is not hesitant. xiao knows what it is to feel as though one were falling apart from the inside. perhaps he can hold them together, just for a little bit. ❛ it’s alright. ❜

the bard is uncharacteristically quiet now, as placid as the evening air within the dihua marsh. & under the dim moonlight there’s a change in venti’s face. they look older somehow, the youthful glow in their face completely in shadow. his eyes that have so often reflected the glittering stars above them are now void & empty. the only thing reflected now are the countless years that have passed & everything he’s lost in that time.

it’s not a sight venti would care for many to see. the people of mondstadt, those who are counting on him to guide & protect them...what would become of them if they knew what has become of their beloved god. what becomes of a child when they are made known of their parents’ troubles & fears? when they realize they are not as indestructible as they had previously thought? would they lose hope then? would they no longer believe in him? venti can’t let that happen. he won’t let that happen.

which is part of the reason why he’s here in liyue. this land is not his to watch over & these burdens are not for him to bear. how ironic it is that the land of the free & flight has made him feel so shackled to the floor. yet here in the land of earth & tightly wound contracts is one of the only places venti may be free of responsibility. what a silly song the fates have woven for him to play.

there’s a rustle of leaves in the tree above him followed by soft footsteps in the damp grass. venti does not need to turn around to know who their evening visitor is. ❛ good evening adeptus xiao. ❜ their greeting is not without warmth but admittedly it lacks the usual spark they usually greet xiao with. venti speaks with a voice like dying embers in a fireplace, weak & weary. ❛ it’s a lovely night isn’t it? ❜

there’s a question on xiao’s tongue. venti needn’t hear it to know, he needn’t even turn around to know what is on the yaksha’s mind. but selfishly he hopes they do not utter it. for venti does not have it in him to lie this time, for once lacking the strength required to hold up that cheery smile of us. so tonight venti will simply stall & pray that xiao will forgive them for this moment of weakness.

❛ sometimes i like to come here at night when it’s quiet. ❜ venti continues on, pretending the golden gaze at the back of his head doesn’t unnerve him so. ❛ liyue is such a beautiful land...not that mondstadt isn’t it’s just -- ❜ a sigh. their facade is falling. ❛ a change of scenery can do wonders. someday, if you’ll let me maybe -- never mind. ❜ xiao would never leave liyue. they are not weak & flighty as you are. there’s little point in even encouraging the notion.

silence follows venti’s words, a silence that threatens to swallow him whole. they’ve never cared for the quiet, something understandable for the god of music & merriment. for in the silence something dark dwells, the ghosts & demons that hunger for the grief in venti’s heart. it waits for moments like these to strike & tear the bard apart like he were nothing more than any other prey. & oh how long these demons have waited for this chance to prey on his soul.

perhaps this is why xiao has come to his side. they are not called the conqueror of demons for nothing, no? once again the yaksha comes to their aid even when it has never been asked of him. such dutiful loyalty is undeserved for a pitiful archon like himself. can venti even call himself an archon anymore? the gnosis, the source of his power has been ripped from him. now they are as average & ordinary as any other man with only a lengthy lifespan to set them apart.

❛ won’t you say something, friend? ❜ venti pleas to the stoic wind, the silence beginning to rip away at his flesh. the bard finally dares to look behind him, jade finding gold as he meets xiao’s gaze. there’s something different in how they look at him now, their golden eyes looking almost pained. is it disappointment xiao has for them now? is it pity? venti can’t decide which is worse. ❛ your silence is beginning to trouble me s-- ❜

venti cuts himself off mid sentence, silenced by a pair of arms coming to wrap around him. the gesture is foreign to him, freezing him to the core as his eyes widen. it is strange to be comforted, to be consoled. venti cannot remember the last time someone has held them like this --- were they ever held like this? so often it is he who holds the sky up, who time & time again stitches a song to heal the wounds of those who are aching. all the while his own wounds bleed open in venti’s continuous neglect. it’s alright. venti’s never asked to be healed, never wanted to be healed.

it takes a few moments for venti to process it all, remaining as still as the air around them as he stands in xiao’s embrace. but then in the silence of the marsh something fractures & the last pieces of venti’s resistance crumbles into the earth. their eyes flutter closed, masking a sudden mistiness that’s risen to their eyes. venti’s head lowers to fall to the crook of xiao’s shoulder, the adeptus’ sleeve almost immediately growing damp as tears roll down the bard’s cheeks. yet through it all venti does not make a sound. the wind remains still & silent as its god weeps for the first time in centuries. the only sound being the soft murmur of the yaksha holding him close. it’s alright.

venti lets out a wet laugh devoid of any sort of joy or humor, their hands trembling slightly as they dig their fingers into xiao’s back. for if they let go they fear they’ll fall, crash down to the earth like a fallen star. ❛ have you gone soft on me, my friend? ❜ a desperate attempt to lighten the mood. an attempt made in vein as the weight of venti’s tears holds his words together as they let out another empty laugh. ❛ could it be the vigilant yaksha has come to care for a sorry soul like me. ❜ a beat & venti moves to hold xiao closer, afraid to let them go. ❛ don’t worry. your secret is safe with me. i only ask that -- that you do not speak of this to anyone. ❜

when stars fall where do they go? when angels crash down from the heavens does anyone come to catch them? these questions remain unanswered in the songs of teyvat, despite the numerous ballads singing of the skyward beings. but in the silence & cool evening air venti finally finds his answer. he finds it in the strong arms that hold him close, that keep him sheltered from the demons that hunger for his heart. & in this marsh, in xiao’s protective embrace...venti at last feels free & safe.

#yksha #asks.#long post #verse: canon.#your melancholy melody sounds like mine i’ve trapped in my chest. & my heart aches as i sing a duet your sorrowful song ( yksha / xiaoven. )#ok...here you go #idk what this is but i wrote it i think

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ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 4 years ago

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Promises Not Kept Part 34

Summary: Tommy Shelby made a promise to Jonah Ward while in the war. A promise he didn't keep. But it comes to haunt him when he tries to drown out his sorrows with a young woman.

Part 34: Johanna growing up.

Johanna nearly scared Tommy out of his skin when she started screaming at eight o’clock at night.

Leah was feeding Molly in the parlor while he was in the big room working. When he heard his daughter shrieking, he jumped up in an instant and made a mad sprint for the stairs. Taking two steps at a time, he dashed down the hall to her room. He ran inside and scooped her up. His eyes shifting with paranoia over the dimly lit room. “What, what is it, Jo?”

“Loose!”

Breathing heavily from the run, he looked at her with a confused face. “What’s loose?” He flicked on the nearest lamp to see what she was on about.

Johanna gave a big smile and pushed on of her front teeth forward with her tongue.

Realizing he’d almost had a heart attack over a loose tooth, he sighed and slumped to the bed with her in his arms. “Joey, it’s a loose tooth, it’s okay, that's supposed to happen.” He sighed, his heart still racing.

“I don’t like it.” She frowned and reached into her mouth to wiggle the tooth. "Feels not good."

“Well, by the looks of it, it’ll fall out soon.” He gently pulled her hand out of her mouth. “Just don’t touch it, it’ll come out on its own.”

A look of terror began to cloud over the little girl��s face. “But I don’t want it to fall out!” She exclaimed. "Where's it gonna go when it falls out?"

“It’ll grow back, Joey. Your baby teeth fall out and your grown-up teeth come in.” He reassured her.

It wasn’t convincing enough to Johanna. “What if I swallow it?”

“You won’t.”

“Yeah-huh, I could!”

“Okay, well.” He sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Ask Charlie tomorrow, he’s lost some of his teeth, he's an expert.”

Then, Leah hurried into the room with Molly fussing crankily in her arms. “What was all that screaming about?” She gasped.

“Jo’s got a loose tooth,” Tommy reported.

“Mummy, I don’t wanna swallow my teeth.” She cried fearfully, wrapping her fingers tightly around Tommy's shirt.

“Oh, lovey, you won’t. Just have daddy pull it out so you won't have to worry about it anymore.”

Tommy frowned it sounded like a terrible idea to him. “I’m not going to pull her tooth out, Lee.” He replied.

“If it’s loose enough, it’ll come right out.” She shrugged.

Charlie peeked into his sister’s room, also alarmed by the screams. “Let’s tie a string ‘round it and then tie it to a doorknob!” He exclaimed after listening in on the conversation about teeth.

“Charles!” Tommy scolded.

“That’s how James lost his tooth. He said his brothers tied his tooth to a doorknob and then his brothers shut the door and it came out.” The boy explained while miming the motion of a tooth being violently ripped out.

Johanna whined in horror and covered her hands over her mouth. “I don’t wanna tie it!” She cried, her voice muffled.

“We’re not doing that, Johanna, it’s okay.” Tommy gave his son a disappointed look. “Charlie was just being silly.”

“Lovey, let me see.” Leah handed Molly to Charlie and knelt down.

Johanna hesitantly moved her hands away from her face and opened her mouth. Leah lightly wiggled the tooth. “Oh, Joey, it’ll be a few days before that comes out.”

“I won’t swallow it?”

“No, you won’t swallow it.”

“Feel better about falling asleep now?” Tommy asked hopefully, ready to end the drama.

Johanna nodded and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I love you, daddy.”

He smiled and picked her up so he could tuck her back into bed. “I love you too, Joey bear.”

After getting Johanna settled again, Leah took Molly back downstairs. Tommy led Charlie back to his bedroom. He tousled the boy’s hair. “You stay away from string and doorknobs.” He warned.

The boy smiled and nodded. “Alright.”

Tommy wished him goodnight, not about to tell his son that’s how he and Arthur got John to lose his first tooth.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The next Saturday morning was one that Johanna had been anticipating for a very long time. She was officially six and a half and according to Shelby rules, made up some decades ago by who knows who, that meant you could ride a horse.

Tommy distinctly remembered being hauled onto a pony at a very young age. He almost slipped off the second the feisty little pony started to trot but he was grinning the entire time. He only hoped that his children would have the same love he had for horses. Charlie certainly did, looking forward to every lesson and every chance he got to ride alongside his father.

Now it was Johanna’s turn.

She awoke at the crack of dawn, almost too excited to stay in bed for another hour or so. She bounded out of her bed, down the hall and burst into her parents’ bedroom.

“Daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy!” She launched herself onto the bed, causing Cyril to wake up with a startle.

“Joey.” Tommy groaned and blearily ran a hand over his face. Since he had been home more often, he wasn’t as used to waking up so early in the morning. He was actually getting sleep now that Leah and the children were home safe. Having Leah sleeping next to him was like a blessing, a comfort.

“Daddy, time for pony-ride.” Johanna crawled in between Leah and him.

Her mother stirred but was too deeply asleep to notice.

“It’s very early, Jo-Bear. The horses will still be asleep.” Tommy yawned and rubbed his eyes.

“But you promised!” She began drumming on his stomach with her open palms at a rapid pace.

Tommy grabbed her wrists to stop her. “I’m not breaking my promise. But we’re not going out right now. We’ll eat breakfast then go.”

The hushed conversation began to wake Leah. She rolled over and reached out for Tommy. “Who’s that talking?” She mumbled.

“It’s me, mummy!” Johanna exclaimed, thrilled to see that her mother was awake. She flung the quilt up and burrowed herself underneath between her parents.

“It appears we’ve got a stray Joey in the bed.” Tommy sat up, knowing full well that he wasn’t going to get any more sleep that morning. Once his daughter was up, she was up. He cleared his throat and opened the nightstand drawer for his cigarettes.

Leah cuddled Johanna close. “Tom, smoke outside, please.”

“Yep.” He stood up with a groan and went to don a dressing gown. “C’mon Cyril, I’ll let you out.” He patted his thigh to summon the dog.

The bullmastiff looked a little miffed that he’d been woken up so early but rose from his dog bed.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Breakfast occurred a little earlier than usual but Johanna was relentless. She would’ve inhaled her food if Leah had let her. Charlie came down a bit later only because Cyril had gone to wake him up. But the boy didn’t seem too cranky about it. It was nice to have three happy-go-lucky children at the breakfast table. Charlie eating peacefully, Johanna rambling on happily about her riding lesson, and Molly nursing contently.

It was a foggy morning but the sun was starting to warm up the spring day. Johanna skipped across the lawn toward the stables. She loved visiting the horses and watching her father and brother ride. But she especially liked feeding the horses carrots and peppermint candies.

There was a pony she’d taken a shine to, Peggy, a lovely bay with a white blaze and four almost perfectly even white socks. Standing at fourteen hands, the mare wasn’t large but Leah was still a little nervous.

Charlie wouldn’t admit it, but he was excited to show his sister the ins and outs of the stables. He’d been waiting ever since she was born to share the sport of riding. He helped Tommy walk her through grooming and tacking up the pony. The little girl ate up the information, listening intently and helping where she was able.

Leah was sat outside the riding ring with Molly sat on a blanket in the grass. She got a spike of nervousness when Tommy walked out with the mare in tow. Johanna followed with a spring in her step, so excited to finally ride a horse like her family.

But her mother was terrified. Leah could ride although she was still a little uneasy around the large animals. She sometimes found it hard to watch Charlie’s lessons even though the little boy was a natural. She nearly had a heart attack when Tommy let Charlie’s horse off the lunge line for the first time.

Now she had to go through the same panic all over again with Johanna and most likely Molly too.

Charlie came to sit with Leah while Tommy picked up Johanna to put her in the saddle. He stood with her for a moment, adjusting the stirrups, tightening the girth, and telling her how to sit and hold the reins.

After that, he began walking around the ring with Peggy. Johanna had a huge smile on her face. She waved at Leah when they passed by them.

“Both hands on the reins, lovey!” Leah called out nervously. “Oh that horse looks so much bigger than I remembered.” She mumbled.

“It’s alright, mum.” Charlie assured her. “Peggy doesn’t spook.”

It was almost as if saying it cursed the morning. Because almost ten minutes later, a large hawk descended near the ring. The large wingspan of the bird seemed to frighten Peggy and she pranced a few steps to the side.

This caught both Tommy and Johanna off guard and the little girl slipped right out of the saddle like a rag doll.

Leah jumped up and ran over to the fence. “Joey!”

Tommy dropped the lead knowing Peggy wouldn’t go anywhere and rushed to his daughter.

Johanna sat up and began, to both of her parents’ surprise, giggling. “Naughty pony!” She scolded playfully wagging her finger at Peggy and stood up. She clumsily brushed the dirt off her new jodhpurs.

“You okay, Jo?” Tommy knelt down and inspect her for any cuts or bruises. But it appeared she'd only gotten a little dirty from the tumble.

“Yeah, daddy, I’m okay.” She beamed. “I wanna get back up though, that wasn't long 'nough time.”

Tommy couldn’t help but smile and glance back at his panicked wife with a shrug. “She’s a wild gypsy girl, that’s for sure. Not afraid to fall off, aye?” He stood up and brought Johanna back over to Peggy.

“Oh, Tommy, I think that’s enough for today.” Leah shakily called from the fence.

“Lee, if she doesn’t get back on now, she never will. Can’t be afraid of it.” He assured her and hoisted his daughter back into the saddle.

She chewed on her lip but reluctantly retreated back to the blanket. “You Shelby children, so much like your father.” She sighed and brushed back Charlie’s hair.

He smiled and shrugged. “Did Grace like horses?” He wondered.

“I think so, you know your father had a beautiful racehorse named after her.”

“Has he named a horse after you?”

“He tried to a while back.” Leah remembered, picking up Molly and placing her in her lap. “But I convinced him to go with a different name. I’m not so much of a horse whisperer as you all are.”

Charlie nodded and leaned against her arm, watching the ring. “I like horses.” Then he added quietly, “They’re good listeners.”

Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @biba3434 @kimmietea @karmezii @enrapturedbythemoon @vampgirl1997 @tarafaithe @evelynshelby

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padfootagain · 5 years ago

Text

Girl Crush (IV)

Chapter 4: Cyclamens For Farewells

Here we go for a new chapter!!! I am still on fire!! I hope you like this new part, tell me what you think :)

No warnings except for a little bit of angst towards the end.

Word Count : 2791

"I reckon that this is an octopus."

"Or maybe a lion."

You gave Harry a pointed look.

"How can you see a lion where I see an octopus? The two are far from being the same."

"Everyone sees the world through a different scope."

"And Harry the philosopher is back with us, ladies and gents…"

He let out a bright wave of laughter.

"Have you finished that book I gave you, by the way?" he asked, turning his neck in what had to be a painful position to look at you, but he didn't seem to mind.

The grass was soft under your bodies, and above your heads the lazy clouds drifted as they changed shapes. The Californian sun was warm, but not burning your skin anymore. It was quite late in the afternoon, and soon twilight would turn the azure sky in pink and purple hues.

It was good to have Harry back in L.A. even if it wasn't going to last for very long. He had some scenes to film for his movie Dunkirk in the studios by Hollywood, allowing him to spend some time with you again.

Along the months that had passed, you reckoned that your friendship had only strengthened. It was normal for the two of you to call each other almost every day. And the more you spent time learning about Harry, the more you liked what you discovered.

He was goofy, and funny, and held kindness to everyone he met as naturally that it was for him to smile. Of course, sometimes he pissed you off, and he was cheeky, and he could be a pain the arse if he wanted to be, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to hold any grudge against him. At the end of the day, he was one of the nicest people you had met in your life.

"I'm almost done. Do you want it back?" you asked back.

"No, no, no… take your time. I just want to talk about it with you, 's all."

"Not yet! No spoilers!"

"I wouldn't dare. You scare me too much."

"I hope so."

You both let out a laugh, looking at the clouds again. Harry pointed at another one, round and fluffy and cotton-like.

"This one is a jellyfish," he decided.

"Agreed."

"What? No arguing?"

"No… no, that's a jellyfish, alright."

He chuckled, and once his laughter had faded, his smile remained on his lips, dimples planted on his cheeks. You caught yourself staring, and hurried to look up at the heavens again.

He had cut his hair short for the purpose of the period drama he was filming, and you were now accustomed to seeing him with such hairstyle. When you learnt that he had given his cut hair to a charity, you weren't even surprised. It was most definitely something Harry would do.

Your eyes drifted back towards him, as if you couldn't help it, as if they were a compass and he was North. You studied how some of his curls had fallen out of place and covered his forehead a little…

…and then you shook yourself and brought your attention back to the clouds above.

"I hadn't done that since I was a child," Harry admitted. "But it's still very nice."

"It's relaxing," you nodded, "I hadn't done that in an eternity either."

You let out the next words before you could think them through, but they were true, so you didn't mind.

"I've missed you a lot, it's good to have you back, Harry."

He reached for your hand across the grass, and brushed his fingers against yours, as if to show you that he was here, or perhaps to remind himself that you were real.

"I've missed you too, Y/N."

Another cloud drifted above you, and you smiled at the shape. You and Harry pointed at it in sync.

"It's a heart!"

You looked at each other, and exploded with laughter. And maybe it was a little hard for both of you to look at each other for a while.

"So… nothing new?" you asked Harry, trying to hide how much your voice was hesitant.

"Not so much."

"You've got to tell me more about the set and everything though…"

But Harry shook his head.

"Not now. We don't talk about my work now. But we can talk about yours! What about that promotion you were aiming at? Any news? You were supposed to get an answer this week, right?"

You gave him a bright grin.

"Yeah, I got it."

"You did?!" Harry sat up in a jolt.

"Yep! I did! I'm officially a florist, and not an assistant!"

"That's amazing! Congratulations!"

Before you could move, he was pulling you up into a bear hug, making you laugh.

"It deserves some champagne!" he went on.

"Relax, it's not that big of a deal…"

"Not that big of a deal?! Are you kidding me?! You've been working so hard to get this job! It's amazing! Come on, get up! We're going to celebrate!"

"Now?"

"Yes, now! Come on!"

"Where are we going?"

"Doesn't matter! We're going to get hammered! Come on!"

He grabbed your hand and pulled you up to your feet, making you laugh.

"I thought you were supposed to see your girlfriend tonight," you reminded him, and Harry took out his phone.

"You're absolutely right. I'll tell her I'll be a little late."

"Or she can come with us?" you offered, even if you secretly hoped she would say no.

Not that you hated her or anything… it was more selfish than that. If she came along, she would be all over Harry, and you hadn't seen your friend in three months… and if you didn't blame her for it, you just wanted to spend some time with him.

But Harry shook his head.

"She had something to do before dinner, so I'll just tell her I'll be late. It's alright."

"You sure?"

"Of course! We should ask some of your friends to join us!"

"Uhm… okay…"

He frowned hard.

"You don't seem so happy about my idea. Did I say something wrong?"

But you shook your head with a happy smile back on your lips.

"Of course not, it's very sweet. I'll call a couple of friends and ask them if they want to join us."

"Nice! I know a nice bar not too far from here."

"I'd… rather go somewhere more… quiet…"

"I know just the place! Come on!"

An hour later, you were eating pies at the beachwood café with Harry, your colleague Sandra and your friend Jasmine.

If Sandra had met Harry at the flower shop many times, Jasmine had only heard of your new friend. And as you had come to realize along the past few months that Harry's name was better known than what you had expected, you thought it wise to warn her before she would arrive. Which was why the following texts were exchanged before she arrived at the café.

I've texted you the address of the café

Yep, just saw it.

Harry chose the place, it sounds nice.

Harry… I see…

Can you stop already? You're embarrassing me. We're friends, he's not single.

Just saying that it's been a while since

you've been in anything serious and he

sounds like a nice guy.

A nice guy in a relationship with someone else, yes.

By the way, as you know more about music than I do… I should warn you about Harry. I think you might know him

Really? What's his stage name.

Harry Sytles. Rings any bell?

WHAT?!

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?!

WHAT?!?!

…

I take it that it does ring a bell, then…

You have about twenty minutes to get over it and calm the fuck down

If this is a joke you will not be my

friend anymore.

It's not a joke.

Omg…

You had to give it to her that she was doing a great job at trying to stay calm. She seemed a little freaked out, but loosened up as the evening went by. Harry was his usual charming self, asking her questions about her work, and answering with silly anecdotes. And in the end, you were grateful for Harry's idea, you were having a lovely time.

She held back until Harry had to excuse himself to the bathroom and you were left alone with her and your colleague.

Her smile vanished and became an accusatory expression while she kicked your shin under the table.

"Ouch! What was that for?!" you complained, throwing a piece of breath at her in retaliation.

"Harry… fucking… Styles… Are you KIDDING ME?!"

"Shh!"

"How could you not tell me before that you were friends with Harry Styles?!"

"The occasion never arose for you to meet him, and quite frankly, I'm beginning to wish that it never had arisen at all."

"I can't believe it… the cute clumsy guy from the wedding was Harry Styles…"

"Don't talk about him like that," you frowned.

"Like what?"

"Like he's not a person."

"I'm not doing that. I'm just pointing out the fact that he's super famous! And hot!"

You rolled your eyes.

"Jasmine…"

"He's very nice, don't get me wrong!" she interrupted you. "But… that's hard to process."

"Well, you'd better process before he comes back!"

"He's a sweetheart, he would get it!"

"We're having a nice evening, Jas! Don't spoil it."

"Oh! Calm the fuck down!"

"Is everything alright?"

You both turned to Harry, who was standing by your table again. He was frowning hard, looking suspicious.

"Yeah, everything's fine," you beamed up at him, which made him only more suspicious.

"Okay… Why are you acting weird?"

"I'm not."

"You are."

"I'm not."

He took his seat once more, but the cloud didn't vanish above the table so easily.

Indeed, it only grew darker as Harry's phone vibrated for the fifth time in ten minutes.

"You should call her," you advised, taking a sip of water.

"Who?" Jasmine questioned, even if she knew perfectly well who you were talking about.

"My girlfriend. She can wait though," Harry argued.

"You were supposed to see her tonight, she's right to be pissed."

Harry rolled his eyes.

"She came four times while I was shooting abroad, I haven't seen you in three months! You've just had a big promotion, and she's making a scene because we're spending time together, not because I'm late."

He heaved a frustrated sigh.

"She'll calm down. Or maybe she won't. Not my problem for the moment. For now, you've got to tell me more about this project Mary dragged you into… what kind of sculpture can you do with plants?"

He was dodging the issue, and you let him, answering his questions and letting him brighten the mood around the table once more. You didn't really want to spend your evening with him talking about his girlfriend. You felt like you were a bad friend because of it, being selfish, but somehow, it made you quite sad to think of Jessica. Maybe it was because, once he would be in her flat with her, he wouldn't have time to spend for you anymore.

You were awakened by your doorbell ringing. When you checked the hour on your clock, it was 1 am.

Who the hell could be at your door at 1 am?!

You dragged yourself out of bed, grabbing a magazine that you rolled to turn it into some kind of weapon.

"Who is it?" you asked through the door.

"It's Harry. Can you open the door?"

You recognized his voice and his accent in a second, and unlocked the door in a hurry.

He looked dishevelled, had a bag in his hand, and his eyes were red as if he had been crying.

He looked miserable.

"What's going on? What happened?" you questioned, moving out of the way to let him in.

He didn't move from the threshold though, looking at your pyjamas.

"I'm sorry, it's real late, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it's 1 am."

"I'm sorry… I just… I didn't feel like being alone right now. You were asleep though."

"It's alright, come in, Harry. What's wrong?"

"I… huh… Jess and I broke up."

"Oh."

"Yeah, 'oh'."

He finally walked inside your flat, dropped his bag by the door, and waited for you to guide him to the couch. It was strange for him to act so uncomfortable around your flat, he had been there dozens of times.

He had never knocked on your door in the middle of the night because he was heartbroken though.

"Sit down, I'm gonna make us some tea, yeah?" you told him with the kindest voice you could muster, and he nodded in agreement.

He seemed stunned more than anything else. You hurried back and forth in the kitchen to get the warm beverage ready, and soon reappeared in the living room with two hot mugs.

"Okay, tell me what happened," you asked, handing him a cup as you took a seat on the couch by his side.

He gave you a bitter smile.

"I don't really know why I act like I'm so upset about it, I reckon we both had it coming. It hasn't felt right for a while."

"Was it because of tonight? Because of our…"

"No, no, it wasn't because of that. It was just an excuse, really. It just… we drifted apart quite a lot these past few months."

"So… are these your things from her place?" you asked, nodding at the bag that rested by the front door.

Harry nodded.

"I… I didn't want to go back to my house. Didn't feel like staying there on my own. I'm sorry to bother you though."

"Don't be stupid, we're friends! That's what friends are here for."

"I told her I wanted to break up," he breathed out after a short silence. "She didn't exactly tried to hold me back and stop me from leaving."

You soothingly rubbed his shoulder, and he found your touch incredibly soothing, no matter how simple your gesture was.

"I don't really know why I'm so upset," he admitted. "I… I genuinely think that it's for the best, we weren't right for each other. I… I didn't… didn't love her enough, I think. Didn't make enough efforts for her…"

"You did buy an awful lot of flowers," you argued with a touch of humour that brough the ghost of a smile to his lips. "And you did try to see her as much as you could."

He shook his head, watching the smoke rise from his cup and vanish in the air.

"No, no I didn't. And I know it. If I really loved her, I would have made sure she would want me to stay. She didn't."

"Maybe you were just… not right for each other. It happens."

"Yeah…"

A tear rolled down his cheek.

"It's okay to be sad," you reassured him. "You've just broken up, even if you know you've made the right choice… it's still sad to say goodbye."

He nodded, sniffing this time.

You gave him a kind smile and opened your arms wide.

"A hug?"

He nodded, letting out a quiet sob, and he let himself fall into your embrace.

You kept him against you, wishing you could just make all his pain disappear right then, wishing there was more that you could do than to simply hold him while he cried. You didn't know how much better he felt now that he was holding you though.

The hug turned into watching a silly rom com on Netflix, but you kept on holding him against you.

He had stopped crying a while ago, and even smiled a couple of times throughout the movie. He didn't speak about Jessica again, and knowing his quiet nature, you reckoned that it was best to let him talk whenever he would be ready.

You reckoned he was good enough to try to make him laugh again.

"I did learn something about you out of this mess though," you said, making him peer up at you from his spot on your shoulder. "I knew you were a little spoon."

And it did make him laugh. After hearing him cry, you had never felt happier to hear this sound.

"I am a little spoon," he admitted.

"I knew it. I was absolutely certain of it."

"You're a big spoon, aren't you?"

You chuckled.

"I guess… I don't know, guess I don't have a preference. But… I don't mind being a big spoon for you."

You exchanged a smile, and he snuggled up against you once more to resume watching the film. A mischievous smile formed on your lips.

"That nickname's gonna stay though, little spoon."

***************************************************

@ponycake27 @horsesreign @xinyourdreamsx @jbluevelvet @notkeppeki @daynigt-dreamer-stuff @fudgeflyss @stuckupstucky @snek-shit @suchatinyinfinity @i-padfootblack-things @buckybsarmy @heyohheyitsgabi@jigsawlover10 @emyyjemyy @addictedtofictionalcharacters @staringmoony

@madamrogers @cronias13

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #imagine #harry styles series

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shythesheep · 4 years ago

Text

The silvertounged fool and his golden hearted king

Content warning: descriptive violence and angst, lots of it. Whump.

Summeary: Merlin has known that everything has prize in life, and only the people in power has the means to pay it. He isn't one those people. Gifted with magic and a destiny unknown to him, he is ripped from his mother by a warlord and sold to Cenred to be trained as a sorcerer for his war against the other kingdoms of Albion. There is always a prize to pay, and in a time of war Merlin is the means to tip the scale of power. Too bad no one is fighting for him.

Chapter 1

Humble beginnings

Every life has a humble beginning. Be it the willful seeds that will grow to a proud harvest or the humble acorn that with the caring hand of time will grow into a wise oak, that gives shelter to all the creatures of the forest. Even legends as the one that is about to unfold, started out humble. It started out with a woman. A woman from the village Ealdor in the young King Cenred’s kingdom. In this little hut of hers, she sat with the bundle of joy that she called son. This was a time in which the only pain she foresaw for her child, was the burden of being a bastard, but the universe has its ways, and this bastards of hers was going to bear a burden heavier than most. The child’s name was Merlin.

v•v•v

“Merlin!” his mother grabs his shoulder and hides him in her embrace as she pulls him into the backyard. She signals him to be quiet and with shaking hands she makes him hide in the wood stack that leans up against their hut. There is a small crack that he is precisely tiny enough to squeeze into quietly. From his hiding spot he can see nothing, but non from the outside can see him either, so only his mum and himself knows where he resides. He can hear the clip clop of hooves against the dirt roads in the villages, and from their heavy breathing Merlin can imagine their frantic eyes, waiting for their rider to guide them through the unfamiliar terrain.

Horses are always a bad omen, even at the mere age of seven winters, Merlin knows this. Only knights and Kanen’s men have horses. Horses only bring bad men that makes his mum cry and takes their rations. Merlin would love nothing more than to make Kanen fly away, with all his evil minions, and the knights too. But magic is not something to use, not when curious eyes and running mouths are present. His mum says that even the walls and trees have ears, which is silly and scary. There are always eyes on him, not just his mother’s loving gaze, but eyes that belongs to greedy souls of men that would love nothing more than to exploit his powers or sell him to highest bidder. Even at this age Merlin understood the concept of danger that the magic inside him brought with it.

Magic cannot exist in this world where it only brings his mother worries and missing fathers, he knows that that is what he should think. But when he is alone, sitting under the oak in the early spring, the magic inside of him only creates friends for the beautiful butterflies that flies around him in a playful dance of the seasons. In the moments of bliss, he feels the earth and moss under him vibrate with life. It’s not tangible, but it is there, in the roots that run from the trees and the air that lays heavy with the smell of bark and moist grass.

The forest and butterflies seem so far away now, with him squished in between wood pieces and the cold air of late autumn filling his lungs. His hands are red from the cold, but he dares not move, hence he should make a sound. The horse’s hooves are quiet, but their riders are not, and neither are the villagers of Ealdor. He can hear the arguing, but not the words. He knows one of the voices, Matthew, he is always nice to Merlin and Will, even when old Tom accuses them of stealing eggs from his chicken coop. They never actually took any eggs, but when an adult accuses you, you rarely get out of the situation without a scolding, but not when it is Matthew, he just reassures old Tom that nothing has been taken and smiles to them. He is a nice man. Not like Kanen.

Merlin has only seen his face once in passing, and it’s a face that can only belong to a man like him, with a rotten soul and violent temper. It’s a face that only suits the likes of a child’s nightmare. But Kanen was as real as any and not just a nightmare but a menace to the villages that lays in the outskirts of Cenred’s kingdom, and the young have never cared for the poor folks, as long as he still owns the land and it isn’t outside kingdoms’ men that attack, then he won’t do anything.

Merlin strains his ears and Matthews voice pierces through.

“We don’t have anything left Kanen, the profit from the harvest this year was meager, we will starve as it is.”

“Then you will starve, but I know you have more to give than this.”

“We have nothing, you’ve- “

“Huni- “

“No, Matthew quiet. We have nothing, you’ve taken everything Kanen.”

Merlin gasps. It is his mother speaking. Curious as any child, he crawls out of his hiding, to get a better look at the confrontation. He is still hidden partially, and he is certain non can see him if he just stays quiet.

His mother his standing with her chin up, her face dirty with sod and mud from working all day, her hands are tightly fisted at her side, and they aren’t shaking. Merlin looks with his mouth slightly agape, admiring his mother that he thinks resembles an angry dragon.

He puts too much weight on his front leg and his foot slips on the muddy ground. He grunts and pushes himself up to meet the eyes of his mother, that in an instant change from being filled with bravery to big and round with a look of terror painting her face. It’s not just the eyes of his mother that is weighen down on him.

Kanen gets down from his horse and sounders towards merlin with his sword drawn, Hunith chokes out a tearful scream, but a few of Kanen’s men are holding her and Matthew back.

Merlin doesn’t move as Kanen lifts his chin with the tip of the sword, pressing it dangerously rough against Merlin’s soft skin. A tickle of blood runs from where the blade meets skin.

“Hunith’s boy I assume.” Kanen smirks and turns to Hunith with a laughter. “Not so brave when your little boy is under the blade huh?”

“Leave him be! He is just a boy!” Hunith is crying. Her body hunched over as she fights against the heaves, her eyes never leave Merlin.

“Don’t worry I won’t hurt him.” Kanen crouches down, removes the sword from Merlin’s chin and clutches it with his strong hands instead. He turns Merlin’s head slowly back and forth, inspecting him as if he was a mouse and Kanen the cat toying with him before the deadly pounce. “After all, I can’t sell damaged merchandises.” This makes his men chuckle and laugh. Hunith on the other hand, tenses up and gets quiet. Her face grows cold and her eyes fills with storm clouds. As quick as any mother would be with their child in danger, she hits one of the men with a fist to the nose and dives for his sword. She manages to get a hold of it and charges at Kanen.

Kanen draws his sword and easily manages to block Hunith’s barbaric swing, he pushes her back when their blades clash and Merlin sits frozen as the scene unfolds. His mother screams so hard that the strain on her voice is clear. But Kanen smiles non the less before the angry mother. The fight is over just like that, with Hunith clutching her bleeding arm, and the sword laying discarded at the side. Kanen points the sword at her, but the finishing blow never comes. The sword’s shaft heats up until it glows, a sizzling of burning flesh can be heard as Kanen yells in pain and drops the sword. He looks angrily towards Hunith, then he follows her gaze to Merlin. He just barely sees the glowing of the boy’s eyes as he turns. A crooked smile mix with his painfilled grimace.

“You got magic boy. No wonder your mother hid you.”

“Please! I’m begging you, let him be! He is just a child Kanen!”

“A child with magic, which is something that would fetch a high prize from any interested party, but a prize too big for you to pay I am afraid.”

“Kane-“

“We’ll take the boy as compensation for the damage and missing payment.” He smiles and turns towards Merlin. Merlin looks to his mother and feels himself starting to heave and tears form in his eyes.

“RUN!” Her mother screeches.

And run he does. He dashes towards the forest with the yells of men not far behind him. Then he hears the horses. Horses are always a bad omen.

“ahhh!” he screams loudly as someone pulls him up by his shoulders, the sound of hooves and yelling floods his senses and everything is thrown into a chaotic jumble of his beating heart and fast flowing blood.

“Sit still or I’ll drop you and the horse will trample you to death.” It isn’t Kanen but one of his men that has pulled Merlin up onto his horse. He is holding Merlin close to his chest as he rides towards the others who are roaring in victory as if Merlin was their hunting prize.

It goes quickly after that. Merlin’s hands and legs are tied with rope, and a cloth bag is loosly tied over his head as to obscure his sight. He screams for his mother, for matthew, anyone to help him. His movements are frantic as he fights against the hands holding him stomach down on the saddle. He can’t hear his mother, only the turmoil of screams and roars, who is yelling what he doesn’t know.

“Let’s get going, I want to set up camp before we look for a buyer.” Says Kanen in an indifferent tone and a low rumble of agreement is heard from the man holding Merlin.

“And make his weeping stop, it is giving me a headache.”

#merlin #bbc merlin #merthur #angst with a happy ending #angst #whump #whump fic #merlin fandom #merlin fanfic

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dirt-cup-draco · 5 years ago

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Cedric x Reader- Dont Leaf Me Alone

hey! may i request something with cedric? a slytherin reader, where he keeps asking them on a date and they're always saying no, and one day he asks them again and they yell at him and he starts crying. so then the readers like oh shit and realizes they like him A LOT and is holding cedric and saying sorry so many times? thank you and i've loved your previous cedric fics!

March~

You sat comfortably in the clock tower’s courtyard, the stone cool on your palm as you supported yourself. You were lounging, watching as people moved around, buzzing with life and smiling with friends. Your neutral expression soured as you saw a group of people in similar green robes, laughing and taking glances your way.

You could practically hear them making fun of you as they whispered to each other. The Slytherins you’d once called friends created an ice cold den of snakes as they gathered together and mocked you from a distance. Your boyfriend- your ex- you reminded yourself had his arm wrapped around your friend- that bitch- and smiled as he brushed his lips against her cheek.

It might have no disgusted you so much if they hadn’t been seeing each other while you’d been head over heels for the bastard. A sweet smile from your friend and you’d so blindly trusted the both of them. You knew better now.

You rolled your eyes, ignoring the burn as you tried to convince yourself that you didn’t care. It doesn’t matter. It’s been a month. I’m over it. You chanted to yourself as you pulled yourself to your feet. Your people-watching had been completely ruined by their presence as the ice coursed through your veins.

You were still in your sour mood as you tried to drown out the voices behind your back, looking to get anywhere else. It was then that a hufflepuff with a slim build, bright eyes and breeze swept hair approached you, a bundle of barely budding flowers and weeds in his hand.

“Y/N!” He grinned, long legs carrying him to you before you could turn around and escape in the other direction.

“Cedric,” You acknowledged with a tight smile. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Cedric, he was sweet. Or he seemed to be. You weren’t sure if it was all a facade, something used to keep his popularity afloat and the girls swooning. You refused to be one of them.

“Um-” Cedric stumbled over his words for a moment, your less than lackluster greeting tripping him up. He did his best to recover though as he took in your stiff form, your eyes glaring at his rugged bouquet. He hadn’t had much luck turning his quills into anything pretty so he had run out and picked whatever looked nice. He extended his arm. “If you were a flower, I’d pick you,”

Cedric was hoping for well anything really. What he got instead was an unimpressed appraisal of his poor pick up line, your eyebrows shooting to your hairline as if to say really? that was the best you could do? He grinned at you like he wasn’t sweating bullets right now and waited for you to take the flowers, say something, laugh for gods sake if nothing else!

“Flowers die when they’re picked Diggory, trying to say you want me dead?” You shot back and Cedric’s stomach twisted uncomfortably.

“N-No! I was trying to-” Cedric defended but you were already moving past him and when he got his bearings back you were gone.

What the hell just happened?

Cedric dropped his head into his hands, groaning as Ernie snickered into his hand.

“She really said that?” The underclassman continued to laugh softly, his own pride soaring as Cedric got knocked down a peg. “I can’t say I feel bad for you Ced- Y/N’s as bitchy as they get,”

Cedric’s head shot up as he sent Ernie a withering glare. “Say that about her again MacMillan and I’ll make sure you never say a god damn thing again,”

Ernie paled and Zacharias cut in. “He’s a prick maybe, Cedric, but he isnt wrong. Have you ever seen her smile? Or do anything with her face that wasn’t a scowl. I’ve only ever seen her happy with that douche she called a boyfriend and even he dumped her for being too icy- or so I’ve heard,”

Yes, he had. You’d lingered on the quidditch pitch even after your fellow Slytherins had filtered out and the Hufflepuffs got ready to practice for the rest of the morning. A single flower had been blooming, going unnoticed by Filch. It was rosy and bright- a sore thumb- on the otherwise monochromatic green of the field.

A relaxed, gorgeous, smile had slipped onto your features and Cedric had been lucky enough to catch it as he was the first to walk out. That smile had been haunting him for weeks now, playing in his dreams. He wouldn’t mind being the one to make you smile like that.

“You don’t know her, leave her alone,” Cedric grumbled to the two boys who were making his miserable day even worse. If he heard Ernie mutter “neither do you, you tosser” and Zach follow with “why even try? she doesn’t like anyone” he pretended not to notice.

You lay on your bed, staring at the canopy above you, eyes tracing the pattern and losing yourself in the monotony of it. You could pick apart the shapes that had been made into the fabric and create different ones. You snorted as you saw the face of a goat in the shadows of the fabric, as well as a cloud looking swirl and then in the wrinkles of the canopy there was something resembling a flower.

To anyone else these would be entirely different things- only your eyes saw the silly shapes in the negative space of the velvety canopy. You always knew what was on your mind- or the absence of anything on your mind- when you gazed up.

Flower. Cedric. Your conscience whispered at you and you squeezed your eyes shut tight like it would vanish that thought of him.

His flirting had been...endearing terrible. You barely knew him! Why was he talking to you? He probably just wanted to mess around, have another notch on his belt. Cedric isn’t your ex. He could be nice. The kinder, trusting part of you mentioned but you squashed her out. She got hurt too easily.

Sighing you grabbed your pillow and covered your face, groaning into the fabric. You were tired of people.

April~

Cedric had to try again apparently. You frowned when you saw him leaning against the wall, a daisy in his grasp as his eyes found you the second you walked past the doors.

“Not a daisy goes by that I don’t think about you,” He tried.

And failed.

You hardly even spared him a glance, blowing air out your nose in a scoff.

“Have you tried amnesia? I think it would help both of us,” Was all you had to say.

Cedric felt as droopy as the daisy that he tossed to the floor.

May~

There was one person who didn’t know how to leave you alone. The first time it had been cute like how giving your mom a macaroni necklace in elementary was cute.

Maybe it was cute because it was genuine. Shaking your head you removed that thought faster than you could blink. Cedric Diggory didn’t seem genuine. His smile was too honest and you feared the lies that could lie behind those pearly whites. His eyes were too pretty and you knew if you looked too long you would become lost, maybe to the point of no return. His voice was too comforting and you knew you’d believe everything he said if you were more naive.

You didn’t hate the boy by any means but you weren’t looking to make another mistake and you had had enough dating drama to last you a life time. You had sworn off dating teenagers who were just looking for fun and nothing else- it didn’t matter who got hurt in the process.

You weren’t wishing to be a part of Diggory’s process.

You thought the closer you got to the forbidden forest you got the further everyone else would be but Cedric still managed to find you as the sun started it’s descent in the sky. You had shed your robe, treating it as a blanket while you lounged in the evening warmth.

Summer was near, you could feel it. You could see it in the way the students tapped their feet during class, eyes darting to the windows as they dreamed to be out in the clear weather.

And now you could smell it. A floral fragrance enhanced by the heat drifted your way and when you tore your eyes from the ripples in the black lake where you had gathered pebbles to see how far you could toss them from your place in the grass. Maybe you should start calling Cedric pebble, with how far you keep tossing him away.

“Y/N-” Cedric smiled as he began his greeting, lips quirked up and expression completely open.

“Wait,” You interrupted with a heavy sigh. “Before you say anything can I ask why? Why do you keep doing this, bothering me? What has got you so incredibly fascinated with someone you don’t even know? We don’t speak, we don’t share classes, we don’t do anything and that’s how I like it. I don’t care about your fragile male ego, I don’t care that everyone here likes you. I. Dont. Care. So please, spare me for the first time in months and stop hitting on me,”

The words escaped before you could catch them and as you came back to yourself you moved your eyes from the spot just behind Cedric’s shoulder where you had been focused on to his face. You were expecting a smirk, something deflecting that you had torn him to shreds and that his pride was wounded.

It seemed in all reality, it wasn’t his pride that was wounded, but his feelings. Something surprising and sharped dug around in your gut as you watched Cedric stare at you with blank eyes, misted over- almost as if what you said had hurt him, the air punched from his lungs and his eyes watering. But that couldn’t be, he was just like your ex (probably), he didn’t care for you (did he?).

You only then noticed that he had a bunch of sunflowers in his shaking hands, tied together with a ribbon, a little card tied to them. It was a smart bouquet, pleasing to the eye.

“Um- I-” Cedric stumbled, sniffling as he blinked hard, a droplet falling past his eyelashes and splashing against his high cheekbones. He hastily swiped it away as his face colored in embarrassment. “Sorry then, for being a- for being a bother,” His response was canned, disconnected. It knocked your own air from your lungs but you couldn’t help but sink lower into the discomfort.

The sunflowers fell to the grass and Cedric nodded once, twice, taking a glance at you as you schooled your expression into something critical and cold. It was his turn to walk away, his heart thumping dully in his chest.

Cedric was long gone from sight when you gathered up the flowers, brushing the petals with your fingertips before you read the note tied against the stems.

“You make all my days sunny” Was scrawled messily but earnestly- like someone had tried to make all the letters neat and even but ended up failing- on the thick card stock and you tried swallowing the lump in your throat that began to form.

You’d made someone hurt like you had been hurt but you were starting to realize that it just made everything worse.

June~

School was coming to a close. You didn’t get any more visits from the Hufflepuff.

September~

You saw Cedric as he boarded the train. He’d taken one glance at you and then decided it was for the better.

October~

The leaves had turned brown weeks ago and you wondered if Cedric missed picking flowers. Maybe he was glad to have no reminder of you. You hoped so.

November~

You were wrong, wrong, wrong.

You didn’t hate people, you didn’t hate trusting, you didn’t hate Cedric. You hated that you had chosen to trust and you had been hurt by it. You hated that you had fallen for their lies and their fake smiles. You hated that you had given all you had and then you were left cold. You hated that you had hurt Cedric because you hadn’t known how to give kindness without fearing that it would be used against you.

Every time you passed by you saw his shoulders go tense, like you were a snake that was bearing its fangs right before striking. Guilt had been steadily pooling in your stomach for months and now it was starting to get suffocating.

Guilt and loneliness. You had come to look forward to the expected visits from Cedric the year previous, always with a different flower in hand and a new pickup line falling past his lips even when he’d seemed nervous. Now that he no longer came to see you, you missed it. You were the one to chase him off. You reminded yourself.

You were walking around aimlessly, sweater pulled tight around you as you took in how the flowers had long since wilted as the cold wind shocked them to the ground. Cedric wilted from dealing with your chilly attitude.

Shut up. You glared into the distance like you were glaring at your conscience.

Cedric was walking around too but he hadn’t expected to see you, arms wrapped tightly around yourself and muttering to yourself, eyes set forward in a dangerous glare. His heart constricted in the fear that you were glaring at him.

It didn’t seem like you knew he was less than three yards away from you. This ended when he stepped on a particularly crunchy pile of leaves and you startled like a deer in the headlights, looking even more startled when you realized who it was.

“Sorry, I’m leaving,” He said quickly but was stopped by an ice cold hand in his. How long had you been out here?

“No!” You demanded. “I mean... please wait?” Your grip loosened as you faltered. You had made a move, now Cedric got to decide if he answered or not.

Cedric wasn’t sure how to feel as you stopped him. You sounded softer than usual, the edge to your voice that you usually held with him now gone.

“Why?” He croaked, voice more gruff than he’d wanted it to be as his nerves caught up to him. “I’m sorry for whatever I did or if I made you uncomfortable but I won’t do it again. I got your message loud and clear, Y/N,”

“You didn’t do anything,” You explained and Cedric couldn’t help the confusion.

“So you hate me for absolutely no reason?” Cedric laughed breathlessly, in disbelief. You were a rose, but he hadn’t been prepared for the thorns. “Good to know, thank you so-”

“I don’t hate you!” You interrupted. “I-I messed up,”

You nervously twiddled your fingers, forcing yourself to continue looking Cedric in the eye. Maybe he would see something that kept him around long enough for you to apologize.

“That day in the courtyard, you caught me at a bad time-”

“And the other times after that?”

“I know you don’t owe me anything but please hear me out Cedric... I’m not asking for forgiveness but I do want to apologize and I want you to understand,”

Cedric sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose but your hope paid off. He could see the remorse swimming around and darkening your gaze. He wasn’t sure if the autumn air was bringing tears to your eyes or if it was your seemingly sudden guilt over how you’d treated him.

“That day, I watched while my ex and my old friends gathered in the courtyard and laughed at me, mocked me, just because they could. I’m a joke to them and have been ever since I found out he was cheating on me with my friend. To them I am the most pitiful person in school, worse than any gryffindor they might have a grudge against. They made me feel pitiful and then you were there being nice and I started to question your motives because I never question theirs and they used that to play me,”

Cedric’s wary gaze melted away to something closer to understanding and you breathed steadily. You were long since over your boyfriend and you had been healing but it still wasn’t easy to shake that mistrust you had programmed into yourself after all was said and done.

“You thought I was just another bad guy,” Cedric continued for you and you nodded. “Hence the whole ‘fragile male ego’ thing?” He guessed and you winced.

“I don’t know you, I don’t have a reason to trust you. But that being said, I was never given a reason to distrust you. I pegged you as something you weren’t.”

“And what am I?” Cedric asked as you grew stronger in your words, your bottom lip ceasing it’s quivering.

“Kind, above all. I don’t know who else would have kept trying after my blatant disregard for you... I was hurting so I took it out on you and I’ve had all these months to beat myself up for it. I guess what I’m saying is-” You shuffled around in your pocket, pulling out a wad of unique and multicolored leaves that you had found on the damp ground, the cold not having dried them out yet. “-I don’t want you to leaf me alone,”

You were waiting for Cedric to do anything, say anything. The silence ticked back as he stared at the leaves in your hands. His nose twitched and he took a surprised intake of a breath.

Then as he exhaled, his chest shook as he began to snicker. Two short bursts of unbelieving giggles before he was bursting into a more sturdy laughter. You felt small.

“I-I know it’s dumb, just know I’m sorry, yeah?” You muttered, trying to manage a smile before you turned to leave.

“Wait! Wait...” Cedric laughed softly but let it die out. “I’m sorry it’s just that was- that was sort of cute. I get why you did what you did, that doesn’t mean it hurts any less but I get it,”

“Y-you do?”

Cedric nodded, hand squeezing your shoulder. “Maybe we can start over?”

“God you’re such a hufflepuff,” You sniffled in shock. He wanted to start over? Of course he does, he isn’t your ex, he isn’t anybody but Cedric. Kind Cedric.

“God you’re such a slytherin,” Cedric poked back but his hand didn’t move from your shoulder and you appreciated it when he drew you into a hug. You squeezed him back tightly and he relaxed in your arms. He was happy to be hugging you because it felt right but also because you couldn’t see the way his eyes sparkled with unshed emotion.

The prettiest roses had the most thorns but he didn’t mind the cuts so long as you were there to bandage them back up.

#cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory #fluff #cedric x reader #cedric x slytherin!reader

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all1e23 · 6 years ago

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Swallow [Pt.9]

Chapter: Life After You

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Summary: Secrets are spilled and old wounds are reopened.

Warnings: Adulty themes. Yes, I’m a grown-up, and I said adulty themes. General foreboding. Sweet, soft, protective Bucky. (Yes, that’s a warning. That could kill you!) Protective big brother Clint.

A/N: It’s the beginning of the end my loves. Only 4 more parts left! I couldn’t get this part to come out right, but here it is! Music to listen to while you read? Everything Changes by Staind. Send me love because I’m needy. No beta so read at your own risk. ;-)

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

There was something dark about the movement within and surrounding the clubhouse. A whispering feeling of dread was filling winds that were rustling the trees surrounding the twenty acres. The distressed, hurried actions made for an unfriendly scene when you pulled into your usual parking space. Everyone was preparing for a storm that had yet to show its face. There was no sign of how they would fair at the end of this, so preparations were for anything possible.

Cold winds or not, no one was going to take the chance.

For an outsider, things appeared to be no different from any other weekend. A packed clubhouse wasn’t entirely uncommon for a Saturday night. There was always something going on; parties, barbeques, and MC events that never failed to get out of hand. This was unlike all of those times, though. The atmosphere around them hung onerous; there was a heaviness that clung to your skin and stiffness in each breath that made it nearly impossible to breathe.

This was no party. There was nothing to celebrate. Fear was the driving source behind the rushed and tense movements. The dark clouds hovering nearby were crawling closer with each passing seconds and rainfall was imminent. No matter how thoroughly they anticipated every possible outcome, there would be losses this time around that no one could stop.

Those very losses were the reason behind Steve’s frantic declaration that everyone needed to be close by. He needed to be with the club, but he couldn't bear to be away from his family. If something happened to Peggy or his babies, he would never be able to forgive himself.

Peggy and the twins, Henry and Emma, showed up that morning after locking their house down, per Steve’s begging. They were no longer babies, despite Steve’s wishful thinking. Explaining the sleepover to a pair of six-year-olds was not exactly Peggy’s shining moment as a mother. Too many questions she can’t answer. Too much of her own worry colored her words. Steve’s assurances did nothing to quell her uneasiness this time.

All she could do was hold on and hope there would be something left to rebuild when the tempest had passed.

Pepper arrived only a few minutes after you pulled up with Morgan and Peter following close behind her. You haven’t had a chance to meet Morgan, but just from the glimpse you caught as she made her way passed you sat atop Peter’s shoulders, she was without a doubt Tony’s daughter. You met Pepper’s eyes for a flash, but she was frantically trying to get her kids inside.

“Mom, it’s fine,” Peter dropped his arm over her shoulders as they walked through the rising grass. “Nothing is going to happen here. We are all good.” You couldn’t hear what Morgan responded with, but Pepper did not look pleased the look was followed by a sharp, “Tony!”

Pepper didn’t have the same calm demeanor that Peggy did. When she was overwhelmed, it showed. To be fair, she did live with Tony. Thankfully, Peter was by her side to help get their bags together and keep a close, protective eye on Morgan in Tony’s absence.

For a brief moment, when you were young and still innocent enough to believe this life and your love could occupy Bucky’s heart side by side, you had illusions of starting a family with Bucky. The thought seems so silly now. It was a childish fantasy that was never meant to be a reality.

It was nice to see that some were able to have both.

Your eyes flicked from person to person. Everyone was there but Tony. You figured he has been locked away, eyes glued to those damn blue screens as he tried to figure out who their rat was and keep a close eye any and all movements made by Red Skulls. The thought left you feeling a tad queasy, but you kept moving forward. Natasha watched as you got closer to the front doors. You knew the look. She was disappointed with you, but what else was new? You’ve been in trouble since you came home.

It looked as if you were one of the last to arrive and the expression on everyone’s face, especially Bucky’s, made your chest burn with remorse. He was upset, anxious. From the glimpse at Clint’s face, he wasn’t happy with you either, but you weren’t sure what he was upset about or how much they knew.

It seemed as if you were about to find out.

“Y/n,” Bucky growled as he advanced towards you. “What the hell happened? I told you how serious this is. You can’t just disappear like that! I thought--” He glanced at Clint and the rest of the group that was standing far too close for Bucky’s liking. The guys were quick to look away at the tremble in Bucky’s voice, but Peggy’s eyes softened a fraction as she ushered everyone but Clint back inside.

“I thought you ran like last time. I thought I lost you again.” Bucky admitted, his words are wrapped in doubt and past hurt you could do nothing to ease because you had the same hurt inked onto your heart. He didn’t want to admit that in front of Clint, but his heart was screaming, begging him to make sure and he simply couldn’t hold back.

You pressed a fleeting kiss to anxious lips and quietly assured him. “I promised you I wouldn’t run. I’m not running again. It’s you and me, forever. Although you did finish off the last of the pie. Maybe I should find someone who saves me the last piece of pie.” You purse your lips and glared playfully at him.

Bucky huffed out a constrained laugh and kissed your forehead, relief filling the shakey whispers he left against your skin. “I’ll buy you more. I’ll get you whatever you want. You just-- You had me scared for a minute there. I flashed back to five years ago and -- I, I can’t lose you again, pretty girl.”

His quivering confession lifted the tension in the air just long enough for your head to remind your heart how easily you betrayed him only hours before. The ache it brings you is laced with guilt, and it sent a shiver through you.

“Where did you go?” Clint interrupts your distorted notions.

Leave it to Clint see through you and get right to it. He was never much for subtlety. If the thought entered his head, it often left his lips before he could question whether it was a good idea; especially if he was upset and right now wasn’t pleased with you. You glanced back at your jeep towards the several boxes stacked up in the back and slowly lift up the bag in your hands.

“I was at our house. I figured I would need a few things if I had to stay here till this is all over. I must have just missed you guys.”

Bucky nodded, but there was still a flicker of apprehension dulling the sparkle in his eyes. Even after everything the two of you have shared since you came home, a large piece of him is waiting to wake up, and all of this be a dream -- a nightmare. One where you never came back at all, and he’s still living with that tear in his soul.

“Next time please let me know where you’re at, baby doll.”

“I should have. You’re right. I’m sorry, but you don’t have to worry. I’m not leaving you, Bucky. Never again.” Bucky wrapped his arms around your waist his hand gripping you as tight as he could without hurting you. An exchange a whispered of ‘I love yous’ and a few dozen kisses later Bucky resembled a somewhat calmer version of himself, no longer frightened with thoughts of old heartbreaks and melancholy daydreams.

For the time being, he was okay.

Bucky’s hand squeezed your waist once more as he ushered you inside, still whispering sugary words in your ear as you went. He couldn’t go long without getting his hands on you or telling you just how pretty you are. It has always been that way, but today it hangs heavy. Tainted and splintered. The gentle whispers and old pet names have been ruined by secrets and lies and guilt and Eddie.

Eddie took the only thing that’s ever been solely yours and infected it with deceit and treachery; it would be forever marred as such.

“I need to help Peggy get some of the kids settled you gonna be alright for a minute?” Bucky asked once you reached the threshold.

You laughed at his protectiveness. Even while you’re locked inside the safety of the clubhouse, he’s still trying to shield you. Part of you wondered how long that would stick around once he learned the truth, once he discovered what you had done. You quirked your head to the side a natural smile curling the edges of your lips.

“I think I can make it up a flight of stairs and into your room with no incidents.”

“Our room.” Bucky corrected you and placed a soft kiss to your lips.

“Right. Our room,” you echoed, softer this time because who knows how long it will be your room too. This wasn’t the place to dwell on things you couldn’t control. Too many eyes on you and too many opinions to be had once the truth finally broke; none of which would be on your side.

Except for Clint. He would always be on your side.

“What happened to your phone?” Clint inquired as you walked by him, leaving Bucky behind you. You were thankful for the reprieve if you were honest, but Clint wasn’t going to let you escape before he got some answers.

“Oh, it died, and I already packed my bag. So I couldn’t find my charger.” You let the lie roll off your tongue so easily you were beginning to wonder if you even knew what the truth was. Clint followed behind you without missing a step. He stepped into Bucky’s room and closed the door behind him. You knew what was coming.

You could feel it -- blood or not.

“What were you really doing?”

And there was the question you were praying never came up. Clint had no idea how badly you wanted to just blurt it all out. How much you wanted to tell him where you had been and let him know what kind of trouble you were really in, but what good would it do? Clint couldn’t fix things, and he was already so disappointed you couldn’t stand to add anything else to your list of failures.

Not now. Not when you had so little time left.

“I see you’re talking to me again. I guess this means you’re no longer mad at me?” You asked purposely keeping your eyes downcast as you dropped your bags onto Bucky’s bed.

“This isn’t a joke, Y/n.” Clint snapped, voice tight and filled with dread. He was unmistakably scared of something, but you didn’t have the slightest clue as to what it could be. You could guess, though. If there was anyone besides Bucky that knew you, really knew you, it was Clint, and he knew when something wasn’t right.

“I was at our house picking up a few things.” You shrugged and tossed your old wooden box on the bed, ignoring your brother once again. It was the easiest way to aggravate him and hopefully get him to leave you alone. Your box of memories sat on the bed, watching you slowly come undone with each word you spoke.

“Bullshit. Maybe you went there and grabbed a few things, but it was on your way home. Where were you before that?” You turned your back towards him and started to pull your clothes out of your duffle bag, disregarding him and the question but Clint was done playing. He walked over and snatched the shirt you were folding out of your hands, he tossed it back on the bed and turned you around to meet his eyes.

“We just worked on your jeep I can check the mileage and figure out where you went from there.”

“I’m having senior year flashbacks.” You joked. Clint didn’t laugh. He crossed his arms over his chest and shrugged. “You wanna act like a teenager, I’ll treat you like one.”

The silence in the room reminded you of the morning Clint caught you sneaking in your bedroom window after sneaking out to spend the night with Bucky. He never did tell your dad or Buckys. He’s always known what you were doing before you did and he’s done everything he could to keep you from getting hurt. Why would this be any different? Either you did this alone, or you let your brother in and let him help you.

The pleading look in Clint’s eyes let you know you made the right choice; he would need your help and you needed his.

You pulled the card out of your back pocket and handed it over to Clint, but you couldn’t look him in the eye when you did. That had him worried. Hundreds, maybe thousands of scenarios went through his head, and all of them scared him shitless. There have been a handful of moments in his life when Clint caught you doing something stupid or reckless, and they almost always involved Bucky, but you’ve never been scared to talk to him, and at that moment you looked so afraid his stomach dropped like a brick.

Clint uncrumpled the small white card and read gleaming black letters; over and over. He must have read the damn thing twenty times. There was no way he was reading it right. Eddie Brock wasn’t-- They thoroughly vet potential club members, so things like this don’t happen. No, no. No. There was a mistake. Eddie couldn’t be a cop, and he wasn’t working with his sister.

Not his bug.

One glance at the tears pooling in your eyes, and he just knew. You were with Eddie today and whatever you talked about involved the club. If he had to gamble, going by the tears catching in your lashes, Bucky was weaved into the threads of whatever this was.

“He threatened you with jail time, didn’t he?” Clint didn't need you to respond because he already knew, That’s how they worked. They go after the ones with the most to lose and out of everyone that was you. No one threatened his sister-- Cop or not.

“Stay here.” He ordered as turned on his heels, but you grabbed his arm and pulled him back before he could put one foot in front of the other. This couldn’t leave Bucky’s room. Once it did, it would be too late.

“No! You can’t. He said he had information on the club and you. He said he could throw you in jail unless--”

“Unless what, Y/n?” Clint was begging for you to just give him something, anything he could go on. “I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s going on, bug.”

“Unless I testify against Steve and Bucky. If I testify against them, he said he won’t go after the rest of the club.” You spoke so softly he had to read your lips so he could catch what you were saying. It was much worse than he thought. He knew he should have ripped Eddie apart the moment he laid a hand on you.

“Do you have any idea what you’re messing with? You’re playing games you don’t understand.”

“I’m not trying to play any games.” You interpreted, frantic for him to understand. “I didn’t know what to do, Clint!”

That had him seeing red because you knew better than that. He knew you knew what to do the second you were in trouble -- no matter the cause.

“Why didn’t you tell Buck right away? The man quite literally worships the ground you walk on. He would do anything for you! You don’t think he would protect you even from the cops?!”

“I don’t know.” You shrugged and asked with a sniff. “What if Bucky thinks I’m the rat?”

Clint couldn’t even dignify that with an answer. Bucky could hear the words from your own lips. You could tell him yourself that you betrayed him, that you sold him, Steve and the club out and Bucky would still defend you. Clint doubted he would even believe you; no matter the proof and no matter who it came from.

“Let me talk to Steve and Bucky first, okay? I’ll handle everything.” You nodded and sank down onto Bucky’s bed.

“What about Bucky? Or the club?” You asked before Clint could pull the door open. He looked back at you and shook his head. He really thought you would have finally got it.

“Sis, if you think for one second Bucky would let anyone in this club lay a finger on you you’re not as smart as I thought you were.”

---------

“Steve, got a minute?”

“Yeah, Tony.” Steve followed Tony into the room and arched his brow as he watched the shorter man close the door. “What did you find that needs this kind of secrecy?”

Tony tossed several photos on the table and crossed his arms over his chest as Steve took in the images. “Eddie is a cop?” Steve growled, flipping through each picture of Eddie. “How did we miss that? He’s the rat, and we opened the damn door!”

“That’s not all. Kind of the least of our problems big guy.” Tony pulled the image out of the stack of photos and met Steve’s gaze, “She met with him today. I hacked into the police system and did a little search to see if Eddie popped up on any red-light cameras, security cameras. I wanted to get an idea of who we were dealing with. He went inside roughly five minutes before she did. She left first, in a huff but he followed quickly after.”

Steve’s eyes traveled over the grainy images. They were hard to make out. Y/n’s jeep was easy to spot on the traffic cameras, but there wasn’t a single shot of her license plate. She could easily explain that away, but what looked bad for everyone was the image of her entering the diner shortly after Eddie. The swallow on her wrist stuck out like a sore thumb through the blur of the poor quality of the photograph.

“I thought it would be better if you spoke to Bucky about it.”

Tony was right. Something like this coming from anyone but him would end badly. Bucky would go to the ends of the Earth to keep Y/n safe. Everyone knew that and Steve hoped they knew better than to disrespect her or Bucky with ridiculous rumors and a shortage of facts.

“This doesn’t leave this room,” Steve told him quietly, still staring at the images spread across the table in front of him. “You tell no one. Not Pepper. Not Peter. No one. I need to speak to Buck.”

"Yeah, yeah. I figured. So, you thinking…"

He took a deep breath and met Tony’s gaze. "I think the club, all of us are in trouble and by the time this is all over, I think I’m going to lose my best friend."

“That’s what I was afraid you were going to say,” Tony muttered.

Steve lost track of time, he was unsure how long he had been staring at the black and white prints staining the cherry wood table. How long is too long when death is knocking on the front door? The look of annoyance growing on Tony’s face hinted that it had been too long. He squared his shoulders and gave a sharp tug to his leather. Persona in place. Steve had to take a backseat, right now the club and Bucky needed that.

The large double doors swung open, and Steve scanned the common room stopping when his eyes landed on a mop of brown hair and thin chain holding a delicate piece of the man’s heart.

“Hey, Buck?” Bucky looked up, and his smile fell at the look on Steve’s face. “I need to talk to you a second.”

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