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shadowsinger11 · 4 years

Text

Inspiration

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Requested by anon: Could you do a Fred Weasley imagine where he falls in love with Harry’s younger sister. (Maybe a after the war where he lives)

Word Count: 3.3k (my hand slipped oops)

Genre: Fluff, childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining etc.

Warnings: Slight innuendo, Fred being cute and hot simultaneously

Tags: @self-ship-love @susceptible-but-siriusexual @hufflexpuff @neovannii @jenniweasley @elf-punk @heart-of-tempered-steel @itseatyourdamnapples

Message me if you'd like to be added!

Masterlist

Ottery St Catchpole, Devon, England, July 16, 2000

It was a chilly Sunday evening. The summer air buzzed with excitement and the tender aroma of magnolia as tiny white and pink petals were gracefully falling from the huge cherry trees, carried by the light breeze. Twilight painted the horizon in liquid gold and fiery red, soon followed by mellow shades of dark blue that brought countless sparkling stars.

It was getting the slightest bit colder, but it did not matter; nothing else mattered but the loud cheers and cheerful music, celebrating the official bond between a Potter and a Weasley under the wide night sky.

You couldn't have been happier for your older brother, Harry, who was currently dancing with Ginny, his now wife - now and for the rest of his, hopefully, but not really likely, peaceful life. For the longest time you've been wondering how he'd always manage to get into trouble even as a small First year with no experience in the wizarding world whatsoever. Or, perhaps, that was the exact reason as to why evil-battling and rule-breaking were such common practices when hanging out with him.

However, there was no fighting that day. There was no room for worry and fear when the entire Weasley family and their loved ones were gathered on the clearing in front of the Burrow, chatting, laughing, dancing, singing, drinking, celebrating and living for what seemed to be the first time since Lord Voldemort's fall. Danger was practically nonexistent in that blissful moment which was frozen in time, once having looked agonizingly distant and impossible to hope for. But that dream was no longer just a foolish fantasy to heal wounded hearts. It was there, and it was happening in the most beautiful way imaginable.

And suddenly, all those clichés of a married life weren't even clichés. They were simply humble wishes of people who had witnessed far too many horrors in such a short period of time, and only craved stability among the massive chaos. So when you glanced at Ginny, a twirling blur of flaming red hair and a gorgeous wedding dress, you didn't feel the need to comment on how banal the color white was. You genuinely smiled, admiring the pure, exuberant joy, visible in her eyes and scarlet cheeks. Harry looked just as, if not even happier than his wife, dancing in the ridiculous but wholehearted way that only he could, and old memories of him winning the golden egg, training Dumbledore's Army and kissing Ginny in the common room for the very first time flooded into your mind.

It had truly been a long time since you had seen Harry careless and free like that.

You yourself had spent an ungodly amount of hours preparing the yard for the ceremony all day; rearranging chairs, decorating, making sure everything was going by schedule, only to then dance your tired feet off, and though you wanted to continue having fun with Hermione, Luna and the rest of the girls waiting for you, you really needed a break. And a drink.

Excusing yourself to leave the particularly interesting conversation you were having with distant Weasley relatives, you slipped off your black flats that, despite looking absolutely stunning, hurt your feet terribly after an entire day of fussing over the color of napkins and flower bouquets. Barefoot on the grass, you walked over to a chair next to a table which seemed to have been occupied, but judging by the mostly empty glasses and plates, the guests weren't coming back anytime soon.

You tossed your shoes aside with a sigh and rushed to rub your aching toes, hissing from how sore they were.

How has Ginny been dancing like that for hours?

"Enjoying the party, I see?" a familiar deep, slightly husky voice commented, causing you to look up.

It was none other than Fred Weasley, dear friend from childhood, staring down at you, his ever-present charming smirk resting on features and hands shoved into the pockets of his dragonskin suit. But it was his flaming red hair that made your eyes widen - it was carefully smoothed back, shining under the moonlight like liquid iron.

Fred's eyes still contained their famous, loveable mischief, except now slightly tamer and calmer. His firm biceps had visibly grown in size, stretching out the fabric of his coat just a bit to give you a prominent silhouette that caught you off guard.

It had been two years; he had changed so much.

And you were afraid to admit you had too.

You blinked in surprise, processing his uncharacteristically sophisticated appearance before realizing what he had asked you.

"Would've enjoyed it far more if my legs weren't killing me," you groaned half-heartedly and leaned back on your chair. "What's with your hair?"

"What's with your feet?"

"I asked you first," you cut him off. "I bet Ginny is responsible for this."

"Actually…" Fred trailed off, and, whether on purpose or not, ran a hand through the ginger locks to keep them in place, unaware of how you suddenly wished the hand doing the graceful motion wasn't his. "Mum insisted that I looked my best. What can I say, it's not like George and I usually listen to her, but we thought we'd make an exception this time; our sister doesn't get married every day. But honestly, Ginny couldn't care less about how we looked as long we showed up."

"So like usual, you mean?" you giggled. "Showing up is an achievement for you even if you're underdressed?"

Fred beamed, pearly white smile complementing his formal outfit. You wondered if he used that exact smile to effortlessly allure costumers and business partners at work.

He rested an elbow on the table as he leaned forward.

"Come on now, darling. I know you find my messy hair irresistible either way."

His cockiness only caused you to laugh, though Fred was quick to spot the flash of nervousness in your eyes; it brought him immense pride to know he was the one to turn you from confident to adorably bashful and flustered in the matter of seconds.

He was looking at you intensely, expectantly waiting for you to deny his flirty accusation despite your shyness.

"Nah, Weasley. It only reminds me that even at twenty-two you still do not know how to use a comb."

Fred's eyebrows shot straight up to his hairline, mouth agape. For the first time, he actually needed a second to form a reply.

"Didn't see that coming, I give you that. Courageous one, you are."

Your heart fluttered with joy and you openly grinned, shrugging in half-hearted humbleness.

"Perhaps I am."

Speaking to him felt unusually energizing, as though you had jumped headfirst into a chilly lake. It was unfamiliar and it set your nerves on fire, causing your stomach to twist and turn with sensations that left you dizzy, but unbelievably thrilled. And you wanted more of it, you wanted more of him.

"Fancy a drink?" Fred offered, already pouring champagne into a glass before handing it to you, and you keenly took it.

"Thanks, I've been thirsty with all the preparations I was doing."

"Is that why your legs are killing you?"

"Exactly, I've been running around all day, making sure everything was in order… you know, a lot of organizing and the like."

"It must hurt quite a bit then," Fred commented with a pained grimace. "But I absolutely get you, Georgie and I are just like that when it comes to the shop. It's a lot of accounting if I'm being honest, though I admit he's way better at it. We need to be completely precise; we can't allow any mistakes."

"Woah," you laughed. "Control freak much?"

He wettened his lips, never breaking eye contact.

"Perhaps I am."

You tilted your head to the side, gaze piercing into his in hopes of finding out what those gorgeous brown eyes were hiding. The tiny playful flames in them were eloquent.

Shifting slightly in your seat, you smoothed out your bridesmaid dress and raised your glass, the ghost of a smirk playing on your lips.

"Cheers to us control freaks then."

Fred mirrored your smug expression and your glasses met with a clink. The bubbly liquid tingled your throat, undoubtedly refreshing you and cooling you off. You glanced at the people dancing in the centre of the clearing and giggled - Ginny had apparently thrown away her white shoes long ago, bare feet stepping elegantly on the grass.

"You see, I'd like to chat a bit more with you, but I'm afraid it's a bit too loud here. What about we go to the pond across the field?" Fred suggested, pointing at the woods behind his back. You had visited them countless times when staying with Harry at the Burrow during holidays years ago; the tall trees and the glistening waters had never ceased to bring you comfort.

The noise started to become bothersome, and you felt it even more necessary to continue your conversation somewhere private, the unknown causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach. Fred's presence could only be compared to a shot of whiskey, or the sensation of anticipating a tidal wave to crash into you in less than a second. It was wild and the tiniest bit terrifying, but oh so tempting as it pulled you in.

"I'd love that, but… you know," you grinned and playfully swang your sore feet. "Can't really walk."

But this didn't at all seem like a problem to Fred Weasley who only shrugged and stood up, "You don't have to. I'll carry you."

"Merlin, no! Please, it's not necessary."

Fred frowned, but his confused expression was soon replaced by an amused one.

"You said it yourself that your feet hurt like hell. And even if carrying you around isn't necessary, it doesn't mean I don't want to."

You attempted to tame the butterflies.

"No, no! You seriously don't have to, I promise," you frantically protested as you held up your hands in front of you to reassure him, but he only gave you a weird look. "I can walk on my own. I'll be too heavy for you."

"There's only one way to find out."

Fred walked over to you and leaned down, one hand sneaking around your waist and the other slipping under your knees. You shrieked in terror, arms flying to clutch at his shoulders, and heat rose to your cheeks from the abrupt contact. Your chests were pressed together, and you were afraid he'd be able to feel your racing heart. His skin was warmer than you had thought, and it successfully fought off the night summer chill.

"Are we going?" Fred whispered down at you, lips so close to yours that you recognized the nuance of champagne in his breath, mixing unbelievably well with the scent of cinnamon and sandalwood of his cologne.

Not only is he sinfully attractive, but he smells heavenly too?

"Yes," you breathed and let Fred effortlessly walk across the meadow with you in his arms. They brought this new, odd, yet familiar sense of security, and you allowed your head to rest against his chest, nervous gaze wandering off into the distance in hopes of not meeting his. Nevertheless, curiosity eventually took the best of you, and your eyes would occasionally flicker to his, which were now completely black under the night sky. They could swallow you whole, you swore.

Minutes later, you found yourselves in the company of old, enormous willows which surrounded the pond you so vividly remembered from your teenage years. You thanked Fred as he carefully let you down, and took a few steps forward to look around and drench in the misty moonlight that enveloped the area. The waters were crystal clear and completely still, reflecting the moon and its majestic silver glow. The bushes had grown significantly over the time you were away, and you fondly looked back at the moments when you would pick up colorful wildflowers in the summer before your fourth year.

"Shall we sit?" Fred asked quietly from right behind your shoulder, and you followed him with a nod. You found a comfortable spot on the fresh grass to sit, a few feet away from where the water met the soil and moved back and forth ever so slightly.

"It's more beautiful than I remember," you noted, lips curled up in a barely visible smile. Fred hummed in agreement.

"That's why I always make sure to come here every chance I get when I return. But, unfortunately, that's very rare in my case."

For a moment, there was only the chirping of crickets and the soft bubbling of water.

Fred turned to you.

"Remember when mum used to call for us to de-gnome the garden and we'd hide here? We could stay in the bushes for hours before we eventually came back," he recalled, seeming deep in thought. It was an extraordinary sight; for once the playful spark in his eyes was more mellow, there was no cockiness seeping into the way he was holding himself. He was just Fred, the man who was currently thinking with so much adoration and love about his childhood, the most significant memories of it being marked by you.

You wondered, given you ever had the chance to spend with Fred as much time as your older brother did, if the charismatic prankster would have fallen for you like you had done. You wondered, given the chance you had let Fred get to know you better all those summers ago, if his heart would have belonged to you by now just like yours did to him.

Had you possibly missed your chance?

"Oh, I do," you sighed, the tension in your chest vanishing as warm nostalgia crept in like an old friend. "I also remember when I got this really bad nightmare that night. I was so terrified that you took me on a ride with your broom in the middle of the night to cheer me up."

"That's true! My parents don't know about it to this day," he replied smugly. "I can still hear you screaming like a lunatic."

You jokingly smacked his arm, "I was twelve!"

Fred's grin grew wider.

"Excuses…"

This only caused you to stare at him in disbelief and cross your arms, managing your most serious expression, but Fred was aware you were on the verge of failing to keep your stern facade. He squinted his eyes as a teasing attempt to provoke you, smile threatening to split his face in two.

"Alright then, that's enough about me," you announced, and Fred nodded in mock agreement as he studied your playful pretence. "If you're so much better than me, Mr Darcy, what else do you do aside from stealing ladies away?"

"Stealing their hearts," he said confidently, flashing you a seductive smirk, reserved only for special girls back in your Hogwarts days. You giggled, finding his antic utterly ridiculous, but you hated to admit that it still turned your blood into liquid fire. Fred apparently saw right through you, because when your eyes landed on his, they appeared completely dark once again, but, you suspected, for a reason other than the lack of light.

Your throat went dry, and you found it hard to swallow down the lump that cut your breath short.

He ran a hand through his ginger hair as he began to explain, "I'm kidding, you know. But to answer your question, George and I have been working on this potion that should be able to change the color of the eyes and hair. Fun for those who enjoy experimenting with their appearance, but it can also be useful to the Ministry. They're actually going to send a team of a couple of aurors to visit us next month so we can update them on our progress and negotiate the details."

"Wow! That's certainly exciting!"

"Is it? I mean, it probably is, but I've been having second thoughts lately if I'm being honest." He scratched the back of his neck, and you realised you had only witnessed him being anxious when it came to his greatest passion. "I'm afraid we might not be done on time, there's still plenty left to improve."

You put a hand on his shoulder to get his attention, and said, "I'm sure you'll figure it all out eventually. Keep working as you normally do, try not to stress too much over the deadline, and even if things go wrong at some point, don't go too hard on yourself. It wouldn't take away any progress you've made so far."

Fred's body relaxed just a bit and he looked down at you. He couldn't deny the sense of serenity that he felt only when he was with you. Even as a careless young boy, he was able to pinpoint the way his midriff would clench every time you'd laugh at his jokes or ask him to play with you, without knowing what it all meant.

But now, as a grown man, he had a word to describe the bittersweet fire within.

"You know what?" He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. "I could really benefit from having someone like you around to give me motivation."

"Motivation, huh?" you raised an eyebrow, fighting back a smile. Fred sneaked a hand around your waist and pulled you closer.

"Yes, motivation."

"Motivation for what?"

"Marketing strategies, work projects…" he shrugged nonchalantly, "...among other things."

You quickly caught on, suddenly becoming way too self-aware of the way you were practically cuddled into Fred's side, hand resting on his shoulder while his were wrapped around your waist. But his shining confidence seemed to rub off on you, because you asked.

"What's with you offering me a job all of a sudden?"

His bottom lip was tucked between his teeth as he took his sweet time devouring you with his darkened gaze. You didn't know whether you wanted to hide from it, or expose yourself even further to the way it burned its way straight to your core.

"Well…" Fred dragged out in his low, hoarse voice, and caressed your cheek with his thumb before slipping it under your chin to guide it towards his face. You could nearly taste the remaining flavour of champagne on his lips. "I've certainly been feeling…"

Fred went quiet as he got lost in the way you fit so perfectly in his arms; you had always meant to be there, he realised. His mouth crashed into yours, hands tightly gripping your waist, and you let out a gasp. Fred's lips were soft, although slightly chapped, and they moved gently but firmly against yours, turning you into their slave. Your palms naturally slid up his chest and he closed any remaining distance between your bodies by placing you to straddle his lap. The kiss was a dance of pushing forward and pulling back, two lovers having finally found their rhythm after years of living in fearful desire. You were positively drunk on his taste, on him, and you wished to never become sober.

When your need for air overcame the one for physical contact, you pulled away. Your chests were heaving with rapid, shallow breaths, hearts beating in synch like they had always done. You let a finger tenderly trace his cheekbone down to his jawline, then it came back up to draw different affectionate patterns on his face.

"What were you saying?" you asked, clearly out of breath. "How were you feeling?"

He fondly took your hand that was caressing his skin, and lifted it up to press feather-light kisses on your knuckles. His lips retraced their path until they reached the tips of your fingers, and he kissed those with the gentlest of touch.

You heart ached pleasurably from the way he was handling you with such care, much more than you ever believed he was capable of.

After minutes of worshipping you by the moonlit lake, Fred looked back at you as though you were his entire world. And replied with a smile.

"Inspired."

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated!

Masterlist

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x reader fluff #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley angst #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley oneshot #weasley twins x reader #weasley twins #fred and george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagines #james phelps #oliver phelps

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aelin-queen-of-terrasen · 3 years

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𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐭 | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 - 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

full masterlist - fic masterlist

The day after the dinner party in the late afternoon, Celaena was whiling her time away by flipping through the pages of the latest monthly issue of the fashion magazine La Belle Assemblée when she recieved a note of invitation from Lady Towper, one of her recent acquaintances, to a walk in Hyde Park later that afternoon with her and Mrs Burnwell, another society lady Celaena had befriended. The wording made it quite clear it was more a summons than an invitation and having spent the morning by herself, Celaena was eager enough for company that she happily put down her magazine and called for her pelisse and outerwear with alacrity. Twenty minutes later she was roaming around the park when Lady Towper spotted her, gliding across the path—there really was no other way to describe her graceful movement—with an elegant swish of her skirts and a look of exaggerated distress on her countenance, followed by Mrs Burnwell who looked rather piqued. "Dear Miss Sardothein," cried the former, looping an arm around hers. "How glad I was to hear you accepted my invitation. I wanted to take a walk around the park, refresh myself and Mrs Burnwell recalled you were rather fond of exercise and suggested we take you along with us."

Celaena rather thought that on a fine weather such as this, the ladies' primary motive for a walk was perhaps to see and be seen by the upper ten-thousands of the ton, most of which had returned from their summer estates for the social season which was to start soon but said instead, "I am grateful for the invitation. Your Ladyship has quite rescued me from certain death at the hands of boredom."

The ladies tittered politely, protesting that it was no great sacrifice on their part and the trio walked along the paths making light conversation until Mrs Burnwell jerked to a halt with a pinched expression. "Mrs Whitethorn."

Though Celaena had only met the lady once, she had been left unimpressed and could not fault Mrs Burnwell for looking piqued.

Mrs Whitethorn did not improve on a second meeting - not that Celaena had had any expectations that she would - and participated as much in the conversation with as much fervor as a lifeless statue, making occasional noises of agreement and dissent. Celaena who prided herself on being able to draw someone out of their reserve met with failure at every turn and it was not long before the ladies ran out of polite remarks to exchange and their party took their leave. Celaena spotted a group of children from her neighborhood racing each other in a less scenic path around the park and soon abandoned all sorts of decorum to join in on the shouting.

"FASTER, TOM! FASTER, YES, A LITTLE FASTER!" cheered Celaena, bouncing up and down in excitement.

Her cheeks were flushed with exertion and her petticoats muddier than usual. She let out a high-pitched noise when little Thomas reached the finishing line and beamed. "I did it, I did it, I said I would, did I not? Oh, Cece, did you see me? I won!"

"You did very well, dear," said she, kissing his cheek. The smug look he sent his siblings' way had her struggling not to laugh.

"Yes, you won this time—" said his eldest brother in an arrogant tone, "—but I shall be the winner next time. Shall we play something else now?"

"Hide and seek!"

"Hopscotch."

"No! We must play cops and robbers today. You promised!"

"I want to play tag."

"We don't," said the twins simultaneously.

"Then blind man's buff?"

"I suppose we could—"

"Oh, no, I will not play that ever again."

Celaena smiled, watching the children argue over what they wished to do and looked at two children - presumably brothers - finely dressed and staring at the brood of children she was so fond of wistfully. "Here, you two, why don't you play?" asked she.

The younger boy beamed at the prospect but the elder looked uncertain.

He glanced over his shoulder anxiously biting his lip. "Oh, no, mama will be furious if we get our clothes dirty." But he looked at the noisy little children with such longing and he looked so serious in general with those deep blue eyes filled with sorrow and the brows that remained creased as if by default—more serious than a nine-year-old should be; he held himself with a ridiculous amount of poise, posture stiff and yet looked unsure of every little movement or sound he made, Celaena had a whimsical desire to have him enjoy himself.

"I shall tell you a secret," she gave him a conspiratorial wink. "It is healthy to disobey your parents once in a while."

The poor boy looked scandalized at the thought of disobeying anyone. When had he last had some fun? she wondered.

He looked at the boys again, then at his boots, properly polished and finely made, then straightened as if he had come to a decision. "I-I thank you, miss, but my brother and I shall take your leave now." The formal tone so became him, she was struck by the intelligence in his expression and the confidence of his words despite the apprehension evident in his posture. He continued in a softer tone, "Mama says it is not proper to talk to anyone without being introduced."

"Then perhaps we might perform the service ourselves since no one else can? I am Miss Celaena Sardothein of Raven Hall in Derbyshire." She curtsied formally, suppressing a smile.

"Oh." He looked down at his feet.

Celaena took pity on him and smiled. "It's alright, I shan't force you into anything. You are a good boy, dear, to obey your parents so." He looked so surprised, and blushed all kinds of red, though his chest did puff out a little. When had someone last praised him? Knowing there was no more she could do, Celaena was about to bid the child a farewell when a familiar figure rounded the corner.

"Papa!" cried the little boy, latching onto his father's leg.

Mr Whitethorn patted his head and gently freed himself to step forward. "Stephen, what have I told you about talking to—Miss Sardothein!" He jerked to a stop, then recalling himself, bowed to her. "I cannot say how surprised I am to see you."

"Are you really, sir?" asked she. "You know me to be unconventional. This is exactly the kind of place you should expect to find me in." She nodded towards the elder boy who looked vastly relieved to have someone else do the talking on his behalf and the younger who clung to his father for attention, bouncing on his toes. "These fine young gentlemen are your sons?"

He confirmed that they were.

"Perhaps you and your sons could join us for a while?" Both boys looked excited for such a prospect though one was more successful at hiding it than the other.

"Please papa?" asked the five-year-old.

Mr Whitethorn rolled his eyes fondly. "After recieving that look, I should not dare refuse."

The child hugged his father tightly, then ran towards the group of boys. They accepted him immediately, having settled on the blind man's bluff finally and noisily took up positions, directing and misdirecting the child with the blindfold.

His elder brother looked lost standing by the side. He looked down at his hands. "...And he has run off already."

"Why don't you join him?" she nudged gently. I know they will be happy to include you."

Stephen swallowed, looking at his father who had a neutral face on and turned to her. "I thank you, but no—" then at her stern look, he admitted, "I, I won't know what to say to them."

"Just say you want to play."

"But surely, I don't, oh, I am fine here."

Celaena signalled for him to offer her an arm and escort her there. When he refused, she said, "You know it is not gentlemanly to refuse to escort a lady somewhere, do you not?"

Stephen huffed but gave in.

Shs clapped to get everyone's attention. "This is Master Stephen Whitethorn and that—" she nodded towards the younger, "—is his younger brother, Master..."

"Charles," the boy happily supplied.

"Right. Master Charles Whitethorn." The boy grinned toothily. "Be nice to them."

Stephen blushed at the attention, standing stiffly as one by one the boys spoke their names. He half expected them to call him names like wuss or a dreadful bore like his cousins and friends always did but no one did. In fact, as long as he played well, no one cared how loud he shrieked or how often he stumbled on the tree roots or how dirty he had gotten. As every minute passed, he relaxed some more until he was laughing and jumping along with the others with no care for his clothes or boots which were already ruined. Mama would have his head if she found out, yes, and she would scold him until his ears bled but was not all this fun worth it? How often did he have such a chance? He looked back at the spot where his father stood beside the woman—Miss Sardothein—and noticed she was watching him. He rolled his eyes when she mouthed 'you are welcome' but could not help the smile that followed after.

"Poor boy," Celaena sighed to herself. "He is too shy, and he feels inferior to his brother."

Mr Whitethorn said, "He is wise beyond his years. I do not know what to do with him sometimes." He looked down at his feet, a gesture she recognised as evident in his eldest son. "You sound like one talking with experience but I cannot imagine you being shy at all." The concern expressed on his face touched her deeply and she had the strangest urge to smooth the wrinkles away from his forehead.

"I should imagine not." She chuckled. "Eleanor, my adoptive sister is very shy—not like your son, mind—but I have seen firsthand her longing to join in on the fun and her hesitance to act on it."

They watched the children play and he chuckled. "Their mother will have a fit if she finds them so muddied."

"Their mother," said Celaena, barely restraining herself from snorting. "I do not think your wife likes me, sir."

"I think that is a point in your favor, Miss Sardothein," he replied dryly, though his lips twitched. Had she paid more attention to her dance partners the evening of the Thorpe's ball or less occupied with Lord Fenrys' veiled hints, trying to figure out the meaning behind his pointed commentary and the suspicious dinner invitation she had accepted out of curiosity, she would not have been surprised by how handsome he looked. But indeed, occupied as she had been on the previous occassions, it was not until he smiled a little that she was taken completely by how well the expression of fondness became him, how his features so perfectly formed, looked more beautiful and pleasing than ever. She gasped at how beautifully his green eyes sparkled when he stood just so, with the sunlight shining in them and how gracefully he carried himself with a hint of pride that was not unbecoming on his noble mein. If at that moment he had told her he was a prince from the fairytales, she would have easily believed him.

"Are you well, Miss Sardothein?"

Celaena flushed bright red with mortification. "Oh, yes," she breathed out. She spent the better part of their afternoon walk attempting to squash the flutter in stomach by conjuring a confused, miserable Mrs Whitethorn waiting for her husband to return home. The trick did not work as well as she had hoped and when the sun started its descent, she was grateful to be able to part with some measure of equinanimity.

"You met who at a dinner party?" asked Lord Rhoe incredulously for the fifth time.

"Aelin." Seated across from his father in his private study and being the current object of the Earl's ire, James felt like the nine-year-old recieving a lecture from his father over one mischief or another when Rhoe could be bothered enough to care about something more than his next meal or the port supply. He had retreated into his own world soon after they lost his little sister and neither brother was inclined to give him more courtesy or respect than what was his due as a father. James felt he would have been perfectly justified in not informing his father of this discovery but he felt an uncharacteristic anxiety about her visit and was not inclined to risk her running into his ignorant father who would easily recognise her from afar. "Aelin was at the Thorpe's ball, the one my cousin and I attended recently, though we were not introduced. Fenrys ran into her at a nearby bookstore the other day and recognised her. Though I was initially sceptical and asked my solicitor to launch several inquiries into the girl in question and her family, Fenrys convinced me to meet her once and I—" there were hardly enough words to explain himself on this and James fell silent.

Lord Rhoe looked his disbelief.

"I know you do not wish for false hopes, sir, but I would not have come if I was not sure."

"I grieve her still," said Rhoe at last in a tone of gruff affection, "—and I know how it feels to latch onto hope but it is insanity to claim this-this madness—"

"It is not madness."

"You are letting your sentiments rule over reason. Aelin is dead, boy," said he, "and you had better drop this."

James was in no mood to drop it but Rhoe was overcome by a fit of coughs and slumped into his armchair. James rushed to his father, not sure what he would do but there was something so wrong about seeing his ever stoic, ever impassive father reduced to a fit of helplessness - no matter how small - like a common fragile old man that disturbed him greatly. James rubbed his father's back and called for a maid.

Rhoe tried to speak but a hoarse whisper was all that came out.

A maid stood at the doorway while the other rushed inside, fetching a glass of water from the pitcher. Rhoe drank it slowly, allowing the coughs to slowly fade.

"Aelin died," he choked out.

"You don't know that," reminded James gently. He was hesitant to press more but James wanted to clear this first hurdle before she arrived.

"I saw—I saw her body." Rhoe closed his eyes shut as if he was trying to block out a vision. "There was a body. Her body."

"Aelin disappeared," corrected James. "You found a body and identified it as hers but what if-what if it wasn't?"

"The magistrate found her anklet near the body. It was her. I saw the anklet."

James snapped his mouth shut. He had been nine when his sister disappeared and what little he knew about it was pieced together from eavesdropped bits of conversations and accidental slips from his uncle and aunt between the years. The Earl of Narrowcreek all but banned talk about Aelin in his home and neither son mentioned her for fear of his temper until memories of childhood acquired a dreamlike quality in his mind.

"The other anklet?"

"They never found it," said Rhoe.

James tried to consider his words carefully but . "I am aware my story sound like wishful thinking but I have—sir, I would not have believed my cousin if I had not seen her. She looks like my sister but more than that, she is-she is what I always thought Aelin would grow up to be: witty, charming and-and so wickedly clever." His words were more passionate than rationally thought out now but his father looked unaffected. James blew out a breath. "I invited her here for dinner, father. I wish to make Miss Sardothein aware of my-my suspicions. Despite what you say, something tells me I am right. I know I am. If you change your mind by dinner, you are welcome to join us tonight."

He thought his words might cause his father to at least promise to come; instead Rhoe latched onto another part of his sentence. "Miss Celaena Sardothein?!"

"The very one."

"You cannot mean to invite a tradesman's daughter into my house!"

"She is your daughter, sir!" said James sharply, feeling himself losing his control. "I mean to tell her of her identity today and you will not dissuade me from it." So saying, he quit the study door and left, suddenly quite anxious for the upcoming visit.

Celaena felt strangely off-kilter looking at a house that was as familiar as it was strange as she was handed down the carriage by a footman. Her nerves hightened for some unfathomable reason and in an attempt to distract herself by looking around the foyer of the Galathynius Townhouse, which was very grand. In the pride of the place stood an elegant water fountain, around which she could imagine a noisy brood of children splashing in and out. The elegant structure captured her interest until she stepped inside, feeling a vague sense of deja vu though she could swear she had never seen such a fine house before in her life—surely she would remember it if she had? It was not a forgettable sight—she pushed her unease aside, squared her shoulders and allowed the butler to divest her of her cloak and gloves while a maid waited to escort her to drawing room. The old servant started at the sight of her before he hid his surprise with an impassive expression like a well-trained servant, efficiently performing his duties, though she did not miss the way his eyes flicked back to her face repeatedly. Having never been invited to a private dinner before, Celaena had no expectations from the evening but was nevertheless surprised to be ushered into a private study instead of the drawing room.

A man sat in his armchair in a posture more befitting a young gentleman than an old, wealthy peer, though the grey hair at the edges of his temples belied his age.

"Miss Sardothein," said he.

Lord Rhoe noticed her surprise at being addressed by her name and smiled strangely. "Your reputation precedes you, dear. You have the whole town in a tizzy and you have in twenty four hours coerced my son into issuing a dinner invitation that is quite improper; an unmarried lady dining with two bachelors? Huge scandals have been created on far less."

"Then I wonder at your son's reasoning, for he issued the invitation. I only accepted it."

The Earl shook his head. "I know his reasons but I wonder at yours."

"I was curious."

He raised an eyebrow but she did not offer more explanation than that. "By accepting his invitation, you are putting your reputation in jeopardy, and with it, my son's."

She dimpled. "I might argue he did that himself when he issued it."

"I told you—"

"No, I told you," said she, rising from her seat, "—I am here on invitation. If you wish me gone from your home, ask and I will. But I will not accept an interrogation."

"I demand respect, Miss Sardothein."

"I shall never give it for that reason alone. I could not respect you if I wanted, sir," said she defiantly, rising from her seat, "for you were decided against me before I even entered your house—you who valued the gossip's opinions, or was your prejudice because of the grave sin I committed in being raised by a tradesman?" Her eyes flashed with ire and her breaths came faster. The Earl noticed none of it, struck as he was by the image of another adolescent ages ago shouting at his own father in the very same place. Miss Sardothein was a little older, perhaps and her features were not as delicate and soft but there was no mistaking her. He had crossed swords with his wife's younger sister to recognise her ashryver eyes and the colouring—

"Evalin," he whispered.

Bloody Hell.

Celaena's eyebrows creased when the older man looked at her in shock, then collapsed into the armchair he had been occupying.

"Uncle Rhoe? I heard raised voices—good gods, Aelin! Whatever happened here?"

If either of them noticed what name Lord Fenrys had unintentionally called her and to which she had answered, neither gave any indication. "He was telling me I should not have come and I was-I was defending myself but then he was, he was shocked at something and he said a name—Evelyn or something similar. Then he just collapsed into the chair." Lord Fenrys quickly and efficiently took charge of the situation, pouring her some wine for some semblance of calm, sending for his cousin and a footman to escort His Lordship back to his chambers. Lord Fenrys and his cousin had apparently been waiting for her in the drawing room downstairs and were not aware of her arrival. He had come to fetch a book from the adjoining library to pass his time when he heard raised voices. This assured her to some degree that she was not unwanted in the house, however as it belonged to the master whom she had quite shocked into fainting with her poor manners, she was not sure how much longer she would be welcome and expressed her desire to leave.

Lord Fenrys said immediately, "Leave? Goodness—no, my cousin will be quite cross with me if I let you leave before he comes. Do feel free to look around."

She did look around, taking in the elegant but never ostentatious furniture and the wall patterns which, though pretty, looked rather outdated. The study was well-lit with wax candles but looked cozier than she would expect an Earl's private sanctuary to look like. Her attention was caught soon by a bookcase by the farthest wall—presumably his favourites—and was surprised she shared similar tastes in reading with a man who had in a few minutes embodied all the worst qualities of the aristocracy. She moved past that wall only to come face-to-face with an unexpected portrait. It's objects—a husband, wife and their three children—sat in a formal pose but the picture radiated contentment, happiness and affection. It was perhaps something in the way the refined, elegant woman stared adoringly up at her husband or the look of affection he in turn bestowed on his two sons and a daughter who looked by turns bemused, bored and awfully wicked.

Her stomach twisted uneasily looking at the eldest son. "That. Who is that?"

"Edward," answered he. "Viscount Layton is not much fond of society. By the way his expression darkened, she surmised there must be some rift in the family—

Edward.

Edward Galathynius.

Celaena felt her own disquiet increase. Where had she heard the name before?

She glanced quickly at her host's cousin who was rifling through the drawers and examined the painting more closely. The children and the woman looked a great deal similar in colouring and in their eyes which were turquoise—

Turquoise eyes ringed with gold.

"Miss Sardothein?" Fenrys asked.

"Yes, yes, forgive me, Lord Fenrys. I feel a little, a little warm. He, your cousin—cousins, that is," she corrected herself, "they have—their eyes are a very unusual colour," she lamely finished.

"The ashryver eyes, yes." His tone was flippant, as though he had not seen her eyes. "As rare as they are beautiful, won't you say?"

Her stomach plummeted. She wanted to go somewhere—anywhere else.

Celaena tried to leave the room, her skin feeling too hot. Her knees buckled.

"Aelin!" Mr Galathynius stood in the doorway with his eyes wide.

Aelin.

She tried to ignore the implications of all that being called that name entailed.

Mr Galathynius gently led her to a seat away from the fireplace. Her head spun and her palms felt sweaty. "Home," she croaked out, unable to make out her own words. "I want home." Her skin flushed even more, her palms grew sweaty and her clothes felt coarse against her body.

Ashryver eyes.

The fairest eyes, from legends old

Of brightest blue, ringed with gold

She shut her eyes closed, willing her hands to stop shaking. It didn't work. How did she know that? She couldn't have known that. She had never met these people before, had never seen this place.

She had not.

She could not have.

Aelin was my favourite cousin—you, uh, you remind me of her.

Aelin.

But how could it be?

Aelin died in a fire thirteen years ago, Fenrys had told her. When she was but five.

Arobynn brought her home and introduced her as an orphan the same year, the year she had turned six. Arobynn had found her as an orphan roaming the streets of London when she was five.

The dates matched.

The fire. A warehouse. Two men. A pistol. She tried to remember but came up short.

"Aelin," a voice gently called out.

"You are wrong," she insisted vehemently, "I am not, I am not your sister!" Her voice turned screeching. "I was—my family gave me up, they didn't want me. Arobynn saved me. He told me they didn't want me, he told me so himself."

Arobynn lies to everyone.

But he had never lied to her. To her, he had been honest as he should.

He would not.

"Shh, It's alright, Aelin." James scooted closer and talked in a gentle tone, wishing his elder brother was present to comfort her. Edward would have known how to calm her.

Edward always had.

"Don't call me that." She shook her head tearfully. "I am not Aelin. I am not."

James placed an arm on her shoulder cautiously. The gentle touch, the compassionate voice and the genuine concern almost undid her. "Aelin," said her brother—her brother, she thought with amazement that the words did not sound as strange as they should have—"I am sorry you found out this way. Indeed, there are a great many things we are not sure of but—but my father's reaction and your own confirms what I suspected."

"You told me she died." The words came out almost as an accusation.

"It is all speculation on my part, mind, but we were informed my sister died in a fire in a nearby warehouse. The owner was a rather genial fellow and my sister—you—were friends with the man's clerk. You were playing with Edward that day—that is our elder brother—and you broke your ankle. He went to fetch help from the manor house but by the time father was able to come, you were not there. The search parties could find no signs of you until the magistrate informed her of two bodies found in a nearby warehouse. The first a child, had near her an anklet we knew you wore that day and father thought—we all thought it was you. I do not know where you did go and how the anklet appeared there but—"

She frowned. "You think Arobynn abducted me for some nefarious purposes."

"Indeed not—"

"You do," she accused, looking away from the hurt in his ashryver eyes. "You think—you think he did that. But he did not. He would not do that to me."

"Aelin, I never—"

"He wouldn't!" Celaena sobbed hysterically. "And even if you do not, everyone else will. No one will believe this—this story of ours—your father, oh god, he doubted it! He thought me a fortune hunter and—and everyone will—"

"Father did not wish to hope only to be met with disappointment, dearest."

"I all but told my father to go to the devil," she said between sobs.

"And it is a darned good thing you did," said Lord Fenrys in a flippant tone. "Someone needed to take that old man down a few notches. Besides, I suspect when he wakes up, he will have his fair share of apologising to do."

Mr Galathynius hesitantly placed an arm around his sister's shoulder as though he expected her to pull away and run. But she was too exhausted to protest and too grateful to have something solid to hold onto while the earth shifted beneath her feet. Aelin buried her face in his chest, clutching at the lapels of his coat and James felt a tender affection towards this creature who was clever and witty in ballrooms, whose ire faded as easily as it was stoked and who went from one emotion to another to another in a few moments. If in that moment someone had told him he needed to fell a dragon in order to protect her, he would have happily taken the beast on with his sword. James had been too young to do anything but squabble with his little sister but he felt all the protective instincts of an elder brother now and the first stirrings of hope that his family might not be doomed to unhappiness forever after all.

Aelin pulled back and sniffed. "I am sorry, Mr Galathynius, I suppose—"

"It would please me greatly if you would call me by my first name, dearest." James wished again he had his brother with him. "I do not think father will be angry and even if he is, I hope you will not mind him too much. I sent an express to Edward the moment we returned from the dinner party. He will be here soon and he will be ecstatic. I know I am."

"I don't remember anything."

He shrugged helplessly. "It is to be expected, Aelin. You were only five."

"But Arobynn told me I was given away by my family to, to an orphanage. He found me on the streets."

Mr Galathy—James looked at her seriously, clutching her hands in his. "I don't know if he lied or not, Aelin, but know this: your family did not give you away—indeed, we have been miserable since you left us." He bit his lip, swallowed and asked, "Do you remember even a little bit of that day? You and Edward were playing outside, you broke your ankle and he came back to the house to fetch help. He was—"

"He told me to stay there," she whispered, tears rolling down her face. "I didn't."

"You were but five," said Fenrys in an attempt to soothe. "You could hardly be expected to listen to anyone." The siblings started in surprise, having forgotten his presence.

"Do you remember what happened after our brother left?" James prodded gently.

Celaena shook her head, eyes shut. She tried to remember the day on the field near the estate. A mud puddle. A fallen ribbon. Her anklet's weak clasp. Why are you alone here? A voice.

It was a man's voice.

He had promised to take her back. I will carry you home, come with me. Into the carriage, there. She had climbed into the carriage. Perhaps she knew the man? Surely she would not have climbed into a stranger's carriage?

You were but five.

She tried hard to concentrate but could not remember anything beyond that and she told her brother so.

"You need not force yourself to, but if you do remember anything more—"

"I will tell you," she agreed. "I always wanted an elder brother, you know?"

James Galathynius was an affectionate man and he itched to embrace his sister tightly, but restrained in fear of overdoing things. The last shreds of his reserve melted with her words and he pulled her close. His little sister. He wondered if there were sweeter words in the world. "I missed you so," he answered tearfully, "So did we all. Edward refused to look at pianofortes for months, they reminded him of you, he hardly ever comes to town and father so retreated into his study and there I was—Oh, Aelin, please don't leave again."

"I shan't," she promised.

"A gentleman's word?"

She raised an eyebrow. "I am a lady."

"It's the only kind of promise you didn't break when we were children. A gentleman's word?" She heard her own voice ask the question long ago. A vague memory.

Celaena smiled. "A gentleman's word."

Fenrys broke the moment, his eyes glimmering suspiciously. He sniffed. "Stop monopolizing her, cousin."

Celaena hesitantly rose from her seat, pressing a kiss against her cousin's cheek. "I know it's all a muddle still but thank you for finding me, Lord Fenrys." She smiled sweetly at him. "You told me Aelin was—that I was—your favourite cousin, did you not, Lord Fenrys?"

"You were—you are." He grinned. "Do stop with the lord business though—I am already determined we shall be the dearest of friends. We have always been alike in our dispositions."

"What he means," James grinned back, "is the both of you have always been utter rascals, making all our lives difficult."

"I don't know what you are talking about," huffed she with feigned indignation in her voice. "I am positively an angel."

"Oh, hardly!" Fenrys shook his head. "I never saw a more mischevious child. Aunt Meave swore you were the devil's spawn."

"Oh no," she said.

"Oh, yes." James grinned at a fond memory. "And I cannot blame her. You once sneaked a frog to her dinner table. It ended up in her plate somehow; it was horrific."

"Indeed, you scarred the poor woman," Fenrys quipped. "She specifically invites only adults ever since. James told us later how you twitched and groaned, shifting in your seat, trying to hide it in the folds of your dress."

Celaena narrowed her eyes. "If you knew, why did you not help?"

"I did not want to incur her wrath," he said. "Our father or brother would have protected you from her. I was on my own."

The remark brought her back to reality. "Father—Lord Rhoe—my goodness, I implied he was proud and arrogant and—and he fainted!" James hurried to assure her that he fainted occassionally and a physician had been sent for in any case and she should not worry overmuch about that but she could not help herself. However, not wanting to worry him more—the poor man was acting so casually as if expecting another fit of hysterics—she changed the subject to one she was curious about. "And Edward—you said he has been informed."

"If I know him at all, he will come running." Then, with due caution, "I know you don't remember a thing but Edward and you were particularly close—you filled buckets worth of tears when he left for Eton, you know? And when he came to visit for the summer or holidays and you were obliged to return to the nursery in the evenings, you threw such a royal fit until father allowed you to spend the nights in his room." By the tone with which he said it, Celaena rather thought it cost him something to admit this to her and she thought she heard a touch of envy in those words.

"It was perhaps not proper," agreed Fenrys, "but you would not eat or drink and he was forced to acquiese."

Celaena laughed. "That does sound like me." Then, sobering, "I should not—it's too late, I think I should return home."

"Home?"

Celaena amended with a smile, "Well, not my home, then. But I could not move here today, not with Lord Rhoe so—"

"Father will not object," said he, with conviction. "This is your home as much as it is mine or his. I am sure Edward will be furious with me if I let you leave." Then, noticing her reluctance, he gently smiled. "I understand you will need to get used to reality and I really would like it if you stayed but if you cannot—"

"Oh, no," said she, interrupting him. "I will—I will stay if you send a note to the Rhunns informing them where I am and if my maid and a few of my clothes can be brought—Elide, my maid, she will know what to bring—then I shall stay."

This was agreed to with alacrity and orders sent to prepare one of the finest guest rooms for temporary occupation. James noticed her pale countenance and offered to send a dinner tray to her rooms in a half hour if she would like to retire early. After they were informed that Lord Rhoe had been given laudanum to calm himself and would see them in the morning, there was nothing left for her to do and she accepted her brother's offer happily. Celaena thought she would not be able to sleep for hours, ruminating on the eventful day but the overwhelming emotions of the overdeal caught up with her and she was asleep before dinner arrived.

tags:

@thesirenwashere // @courtofjurdan //@little-crow-corvere // @the-dark-swan // @queenofgreenbriar // @clockworkgraystairs // @julemmaes // @rowaelinforeverworld // @mymultiversee // @queen-of-glass @strangely-constructed-soul // @mijaldraws // @http-itsrebecca // @aesthetics-11 // @lord-douglas-the-third // @flowersinvegas // @towhateverend17 // @aelinchocolatelover // @justabunchoffandoms // @cool-ish-nerd // @faerie-queen-fireheart // @sad-book-whore // @didsomeonesayviolin // @atozfantazyxx // @hizqueen4life // @the-gods-killer // @booknerdproblems // @annejulianneh111 // @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln // @b00kworm // @mysweetvillain // @curlyredqueen06 // @moondancer-204 // @thesurielships // @witchling-leonor // @ladywitchling // @amren-courtofdreams // @ifinallygavein // @jlinez // @faequeenaelin // @df3ndyr // @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato // @bitchy-knees // @superspiritfestival // @xx-fiona-xx // @stardelia // @maastrash // @miihlovesnoone // @totenhamboys20 // @sanakapoor // @louisleblancdiggory

#throne of glass #rowan x aelin #rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #sarah j maas #aelin ashryver #rowaelin fanfiction #throne of glass fanfiction #valiant #aelin-queen-of-terrasen

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ao3feed-daisuga · 2 years

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miyagi cafe | bokuaka coffee shop au

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/YZ2wqBy

by lushmia

And just like that, Akaashi found himself lost in Bokuto’s appearance.

The first thing Akaashi noticed was his perfect frame. Dear lord, he was practically built like a greek god and you could still tell through the ridiculous uniform. The short shirt sleeves revealed those long, toned and muscular tan arms of essence. Veins could be seen along his hands, leading back up into his neck which would be the thing he wishes to see before he goes to bed each night, and Akaashi’s eyes could only trail downward and downwards.

Next, his thighs. His thighs would be the death of Akaashi if it weren’t those god forbidden arms of his. They were the perfect amount of thickness, dent signs of muscles could be seen through the pants he wore. He swore they looked even softer than his pillows after a long day of school, practice and work. The way they slightly rubbed together when he walked drove him nuts.

And to top it off, he was good looking. Like as fuck.

Oh, Akaashi was gay.

Or, the Bokuaka coffee shop to marriage au nobody asked for! :)

Words: 1085, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Haikyuu!!

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi

Characters: Akaashi Keiji, Kozume Kenma, Kuroo Tetsurou, Bokuto Koutarou, Sawamura Daichi, Sugawara Koushi, Iwaizumi Hajime, Oikawa Tooru, Hinata Shouyou, Kageyama Tobio, Azumane Asahi, Nishinoya Yuu, Shimizu Kiyoko, Tanaka Ryuunosuke, Tendou Satori, Ushijima Wakatoshi, Semi Eita, Shirabu Kenjirou, Miya Osamu, Suna Rintarou, Miya Atsumu, Sakusa Kiyoomi

Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Haiba Lev/Yaku Morisuke, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Tendou Satori/Ushijima Wakatoshi, Semi Eita/Shirabu Kenjirou, Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou, Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi

Additional Tags: Bokuaka - Freeform, KuroKen - Freeform, Eventual BokuAkaKuroKen, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Your Bokuaka Coffee Shop AU, Attempt at Humor, Getting Together, Slow Burn, Love at First Sight, Akaashi Keiji is Bad at Feelings, Bokuto Koutarou & Kuroo Tetsurou are Bros, Oblivious Bokuto Koutarou, Kuroo Tetsurou is a Good Friend, Romance, Slow Romance, Alternate Universe - College/University, Falling In Love, Studying, Study Date, Fluff, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Feels, Eventual Smut, Smut, Shameless Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Foreplay, Making Out, Kissing, Hair-pulling, Masochism, Sadism, Spanking, Bratting, Praise Kink, Dirty Talk, Blow Jobs, Aged-Up Character(s), Hurt/Comfort

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/YZ2wqBy

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#daisuga #hq

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vafanhallerjagpamed · 3 years

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First post

This is my first post so hopefully I won’t offend anyone with tags etc. I haven’t gotten this figured out yet.

So, I knew absolutely nothing about Larry or Ziam until June this year.... and now I don’t have a life anymore.. Kidding.. but not really.

Also, I’ve gone a bit crazy because I count everything now. Like I was listening to Icarus falls just now and had a feeling. Counted 29 songs, 4 of them are Zayn ft other artists and the other 25 are not..

Things I’ve discovered/learned/believe since travelling (I went willingly) down the rabbit hole:

I no longer believe in coincidences

One of the most ANNOYING things when trying to find information about Ziam is that a ridiculous amount of links to posts on Tumblr and videos on YouTube no longer works as the blogs and videos are gone. Suspicious.

The similarities between Sweat and Rude Hours are mindboggling.

Harry had Wolfie written on his Bode-pants.

I love listening to Harry talk. I could listen to him all day every day.

Niall, Liam, Zayn and Louis all dragged people on social media in August – it didn’t feel like a coincidence. Harry is dragging management every time has to do a stunt.

Niall Horan is extremly intelligent.

I am irrevocably and forever a Liam Payne-fan. I absolutely adore everything about him. I love all of them but Liam is my spirit animal (person?).

Zayn has a heart of pure gold and if you can’t see that then.. yeah.

Simon Co*ell is an emotional sadist. It’s so obvious that he enjoys tormenting them and controlling them. He knows which wounds to salt and he makes it obvious that he knows how much he angers and hurts them.

Closeting is real in the year of 2021 and artists/actors/actresses can do f*ck all about it.

I’ve been terrifingly naive and for that I cannot apologise enough. I believed myself to be very aware about media and stuff like that but clearly not. I am very thankful to all the people on Tumblr and IG who’ve opened my eyes.

Apparently I buy merch now – thank you Louis Tomlinson you God among mortals.

Real eyes, realise, real lies.

Their fans are incredibly intelligent. Like, dear lord you are so clever. I have no words to describe how in awe I am all of you.

My life was a lot easier when I didn’t love five very strong boys who’ve turned into even stronger men.

#ziam #larry

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sir-huffman · 3 years

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tagged by: @songzhong (hello, here’s a wall of text, and I enjoyed reading about you Mao!) tagging: @you on the dash - aka you see this you’re tagged.

——— BASICS!

Name: Duke ( any pronouns, but most use masculine )

Face Claims: - Itsuki Kamiyama from GOTH (professional like above) - Suga from Night of Drizzling Rain (general)

——— THREE FACTS!

1) I am an ISTJ and a Taurus...so take that what you will. I’d like to say I’m friendly, but tend to put a very large wall (of text) up so people know what they’re getting into with me and to give an explanation for my actions...as such I am very introverted and only have so much energy for interaction. This leaves me seldom to contact people in the RPC unless I have a specific idea in mind for our muses...which honestly I never do. The best is for me to just chuck a meme at people and see how our muses vibe. After that, well uh...yeah. I’m one of those RPers who have more people I interact IC than OOC cuz OOC interaction takes a lot out of me unless we somehow vibe well.

And by vibe well, I mean our muses generally interact well and aren’t apathetic towards each other. There are so many muns that I respect and consider friends and admire from afar, but we’re not close due to just our muses just not vibing as well as others (which is totes fine it’s just how things sometimes go, ya know?).

( you’ll find that I write a lot hence the read more )

2) I am very stubborn and have a little bit of tunnel vision in my own HCs and world crafting. My muses tend to be people who hold an authoritative and demanding presence where their opinions are stated as truth...which is the complete opposite of my own personality. But I’ve learned that I have to kinda draw my lines and I feel like I can probably give people whiplash between my timid and nervous nature and when it comes to defining my muses. Honestly I’m just very flexible with molding my muses to help fit for interaction, but I do have hard lines and like to make it clear if I’m bending my characters vs how they would naturally act...I tend to make my muses push overs unless I’m like 100% comfy...and even them I make them push overs...hence the amount of my crack threads because I have no sense control and just wanna have fun...with my tight assed muses.

3) That said...I’m just a meme. My main reputation is just being that one mun who RPs a Team Rocket OC with 6 Magikarps. But I truly just have two sides. The very crackish side where (1) I’ll just throw our muses in ridiculous situations and (2) the very angst heavy side that usually only talked about due to my muses handling trauma and very apathetic and nonchalant towards breaking hearts. And as I write this out I feel like I’m giving people whiplash on whoever is reading this since they see Huffman here and is like “oh, how cute what a soft boy” and then I bring up Morax who is just a monstrosity of a muse where I’m toning him down 99% of the time because...well...(*looks at hands*) he’ll end up killing a muse 99% of the time if I don’t stop him and that isn’t fun to RP.

——— EXPERIENCE!

My first experience in RPing in general was on an old website called TinierMe and also a mobile app called VampiresLIVE (lol). However I officially started RPing on Tumblr in 2014 as a Gijinka!Groudon blog originally known as theruleroftheland. After that I’ve slowly branched out of the Pokemon RPC but hold a strong connection with the friends I’ve made there (or kinda, I’m horrible at keeping contact with others since I disappear for months/years at a time). But I’ve found I’m most comfortable writing on tumblr due to the amount of formatting and organization that comes with RPing on here.

I’m slowly branching out to Discord (thank you to my dear RP partners over there who are patient with me because I’m slow) and becoming more accustom with being social over there.

——— MUSE PREFERENCE!

Gender: 100% male to RP as. I find that I gravitate towards males since I have disconnection with male muses from myself and I like having that wall. Writing females get a little too personal for my own comfort so having that extra layer of distance really helps. Also it helps me look at things differently.

Multi or Single:

I prefer single-muse blogs to run as I like keeping things strictly relating to my muse on one blog and another muse on another. Over the years I’ve been interested in throwing my old muses onto a multi-muse blog but honestly I can never bring myself making a multi-fandom multi-muse blog due to my own heavy need for organization.

As for shipping, I work under what I call a Quasi-Single shipping (aka multi- and single- ship). I operate under the impression that my muses are in an overarching timeline of their life that is heavily affected by their relationships. As such the MULTISHIP aspect is prone to have cheating and relationship overlap. I’m into having muses naturally engage in threesomes, foursomes, lying, cheating, misunderstandings, fights, break ups, get back togethers, etc. with all muses and muns participating together in the joy of it all. Jealousy and questioning of my muses’ relationships and actions are welcomed as I like having the sense that my muses are human and things aren’t so cookie cutter.

That said I am also SINGLESHIP in the sense that most of my muses are not polyamorous and are very much interested in having an end goal relationship where they settle down and marry. With who and how that happens really depends on both my muse and my partner’s muse. So whoever my muse is really shooting to get married to and actively advances will be my main single ship partner...or really whoever is going to influence my muse the most and I can see my muse actually yearning for (which honestly isn’t that many muses *cries*).

That said...Huffman in particular is going to be really hard to single-ship with as he is 100% dedicated his entire life to his lord and savior Lord Barbatos and this is the thanks he gets to Mondstadt and he will betray his own lover and such for Mondstadt.

He is also a(ego)romantic so he has a huge disconnection with serious relationships as he will honestly treat them just like he treats every other citizen in Mondstadt and it can slowly get to any of his partners since he just thinks is just apart of his job as a partner...which is the same job he has with the people of Mondstadt.

fluff/angst/smut:

Fluff: Generally I don’t find myself interested in fluff, but I realized that is only because of my previous muses couldn’t handle fluff at all. For this particular blog (Huffman) fluff is honestly the only thing that I can offer due to the nature of his character. Fluff with the undertone of angst is going to happen a lot, it’s not going to be sugary sweet fluff but just a result of Huffman’s very grounded and relaxed nature. He is calm and level headed, very rational (a little too rational) and very determined to make sure everyone is happy...and as such angst won’t really happen because Huffman tries to avoid such things naturally.

Angst: I enjoy angst, I’m that person who loves crying and my favorite tropes (especially in shipping) is unrequited love especially when it’s with a character who has so much love and dedication to one person. As such, I find that I’m more inclined to talk about angst than actually RPing it. I’m very slow (really really slow) when it comes to RPing unless it’s crack or relaxed banter. So when it comes to angst, I like to set time aside and fully write it out...making me having to respond weeks to months later...haha sorry. Also I naturally have muses who are apathetic towards angst and other muses feelings that is hard for me to write because I’m the opposite and I get heavily invested...it takes a lot out of me.

That said...most of my angst comes from very slow burns rather than actually writing it out. It’s more of the anticipation of the heartache, breakup, betrayal, cheating, etc. that I’m more inclined to talk about than actually RP...as stated above my muses are generally cold hearted and very accepting of any consequence to their actions...they tend to be planners and expect karma to creep up on them someday.

Smut: I am very particular about smut. I personally like talking about it but actually writing it takes a lot more time for me to do. There are some words that I refuse to write (which happens to be a lot of the smutty words lol) due to how I read them in my head irks me and doesn’t flow right (my worst subject in school was English so I don’t know many words okay). As such, it takes time for me to fully write smut and even then the way I tackle it is very action oriented rather than immersive (I like to think) so uh...RIP my rp partners who want to write smut since I usually respond when I’m half asleep and have no filter and probably stare at me like “wtf did I just read?”. I’m sorry my smut partners who have to deal with me.

plot/ memes:

Memes: I’m more inclined to send memes than actually get around to responding to them. I like keeping my thread count low because I’m slow and usually memes require immediate interaction (something that I may or may not have the time for). However, most of my threads come from memes that will fizzle out over time and I eventually drop without warning- it just how it goes.

Plots: I like plotting and defining pre-established relationships. Having to start everyone off with a blank slate isn’t something I like unless it just seems natural for our muses (ie. for Huffman he probs doesn’t know many Liyue characters, but he definitely is close to Mondstadt characters at least on a name basis). As such, I tend to like establishing relationships and then going from there so I know how Huffman will interact with them.

Plotted threads, however, take a lot out of me as I like coining an idea and then having a starter be written and then go from there. If there are checkpoints to happen, I get awkward because my muses are 95% certain to shift the narrative based on what is being written and the situation that arises. So heavily plotted threads isn’t good, but defining the trajectory of a relationship is something I’m down for...mostly because I’m a quasi-single ship and 99% of my muses relationships are going to fail naturally - which is something hard to bring up when there is ship talking happen.

#ooc: { about duke }#ooc: { long post }#//when you give up half way in editing this #//and just decide to leave this giant wall of text for those who wish to read it #//*kicks onto dash and leaves*

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narcissasdaffodil · 3 years

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Thank you so much for the tag @kiki-the-creator also tagging @ravenadottir

As usual, slight ramble below, but you should know what you’re in for by now, there’s a slight running commentary appearing occasionally. I’m not sure if anyone else tagged me in one of these though!

1) Name/Nickname? - Iris. My real name isn’t half as interesting, I’ve only told a selection of people that though.

2) Gender? - Female

3) Star sign? - Pisces sun, Aquarius moon, Virgo rising.

4) Height? - 5′7

5) Time? - 8:27pm

6) Birthday? - 22nd February 2001

7) Favorite bands? - ABBA, Arctic Monkeys, Vampire Weekend, The Fray, The Beatles, Simon & Garfunkel, Fleetwood Mac, TOTO (my taste in music is so random, jeez)

8) Favorite solo artists? - Hailee Steinfeld, Sabrina Carpenter, Lorde, Taylor Swift, Mat Kearney, Shawn Mendes, Mitski, Paul Simon, Dodie (yup, again, I’m a mishmash, but at the same time, I struggle picking favourites and shit, so had to hunt through my Spotify.)

9) Song stuck in your head? - Currently, alternates between Sweet Child O’Mine, Lily the Pink, Bright and a lot more! I went through a phase of replaying certain songs so I’ve memorised a lot.

10) Last movie? - All The Bright Places, yet again need complete silence to watch stuff and need to be focused enough. Both criteria are rarely met.

11) Last show? - Santa Clarita Diet, yes it was the same the last time I did one of these, problem? I’m in a really sarcastic mood currently and think I’m so funny, so yeah. But short answer, attention span is very messed up, most of the time can’t focus without floating off, so most of the time can’t be bothered watching stuff, and need subtitles on all TV, can’t always pick stuff up if there’s background music/extra noise or other people. Need complete silence to watch stuff, which is so rare that I just don’t, or look up spoilers so I know what’s happening.

12) When did you create this blog? - 19th Oct 2018 (That’s probably when I started being more active, did make it before then, but lurked for quite a bit x)

13) What do you post? - LITG, positivity and whatever the heck else I want to dump into the void.

14) Last thing you googled? - Anya Taylor-Joy fansite is my most recent Google.

15) Other blogs? - N/A

16) Do you get asks? - Yep, it’s mostly @kiki-the-creator @oneflewoverthecuckoos and @hyperspacial along with a couple of others. I don’t get many anons, and asks themselves are usually pretty rare if they’re not from my core group of askers!

17) Why you chose your url? - I had a Lauren Orlando fan account on Instagram in 2017, which went through a lot of name changes. That ended up being lovely.Laurennoelle, then bubblelaureno eventually. Then made another Instagram the same year, called that ultravxlet, then changed to laurelcstillo, then needed another switch, so bubblelaureno it was! Then I just changed nearly all my accs to the same user so I could keep track. Bubble came from the trend at the time of making all users something laureno in the fandom, so I thought of bubblelaureno.

18) Following? - 3362 (Yep, it’s a ridiculous amount, I know, nope I don’t keep up with everything!)

19) Followers? - 231, which is so much more than I expected, what the heck!

20) Average hours of sleep? - Eh. That varies between 4-8/9. Depending on depressive/anxious spirals, then my sleep amount rockets up.

21) Lucky number? - 22

22) Instruments? - Nope. Can’t even play the recorder, my fingers aren’t engineered for instruments, not having straight fingers means that’s not possible. I’ve tried it, but nope.

23) What are you wearing? - Lemon T-shirt, black jumper, black jeans. I’m pretty much the princess of darkness, or that’s the aesthetic I’m going for.

24) Dream job? - Librarian, or copy editor.

25) Dream trip? - Slightly stereotypical, but New York or Paris. I’ve also always wanted to go to Canada too.

26) Nationality? - Welsh

27) Favorite song? - Oh dear. I hate picking favourites, so have a few:

Heather: Conan Gray, Washing Machine Heart: Mitski, Long Story Short: Taylor Swift.

28) Last book read? - Exciting Times, got it for Christmas.

29) Top three fictional universes you‘d like to live in? - Harry Potter will always be a major one, can’t think of others at present.

30) Tagging? - @lucas-koh @bubblybabynailpolish @charlie-in-a-beanie @venueska

#tag games

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chyrstis · 4 years

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WlP Thursday

I swear, I’m not completing these late on purpose! I was this close to having it ready only to blink and realize that posting it around 11 PM wasn’t doing myself any favors. But this was a much needed break from any and all resume frustrations, and between that and wanting to pick every word apart right now, I feel like stress is definitely having a field day.

Tagged by a bunch of amazing people: @softmillers @sharky-broshaw @tommymillers @amistrio @teamhawkeye @scarlettkat86 @fadedjacket @fromathelastoveritaserum . Thank you all, by the way! <3

Tagging: @shallow-gravy @seedlingsinner @risenlucifer @tomexraider @redroci @finefeatheredgamer @geronimo-11 @ma-sulevin @guileandgall @painterofhorizons @sneaky-apostate @ofravensandgenesis @dirtgirl @raisinghellinotherworlds @shelliechen and @ariestals! I’d also love to extend the tag to anyone interested as well! If you’re excited about your work I don’t want you missing out on a chance to post it.

First up, I figure I should share some more Sharky/Hana, because it’d just be wrong not to. And this is immediately after the accidental kiss that they decided needed to happen which I’m 150% on board with

---

That should’ve brought his cheek in range. Instead, she got his mouth. Felt his comment as it cut off abruptly so his lips could press against hers, and it lasted all of two seconds before they broke apart.

“Oh, God. I-“

Hana’s hands flew up. Not to actually do anything, but they hovered in front of her as she took a step back and kept her eyes aimed in front of her. Parked right on his chest, right on the words that stood out on its front, and felt her mouth open and close a good couple of times before anything actually came out.

Shit. Shit.

“You’re telling me,” Tracey replied, and dear lord, that had actually slipped out of her mouth without her meaning to.

From off to the side Hana could see Tracey stifling a laugh, and it took a Herculean amount of effort to chance a look up past Sharky’s chin. But seeing him wide-eyed and with his jaw hanging open at her killed whatever nerve she had left, and she started pointing towards the door.

“I’m just…let me get back to you on that.”

She was out before another word could be said, and tried not to stop until she’d cleared the hall and heard the door close behind her.

Stupid. Just… God, why would you-

She knew her face was burning, and couldn’t shake the feeling off. None of it, as it settled in her stomach, tying itself into a series of knots that never seemed to end, and knew that throwing coffee on top of that was probably going to be a disaster.

But she’d do it. All while knowing just how ridiculous she was being, and just how fast she was walking.

You’re an adult. Just cool it, take five to clear your head, and you can fix this. Talk your way through it, tell him it was an accident, and everything’ll go back to normal-

“Hey, H? Hana, seriously! Wait up!”

She cut into a side room and pressed her back to the wall. Didn’t move a single thing as her heart hammered against her ribs, and she listened. Running footsteps sped past that spot, Sharky’s voice following them through the hall, and she waited until both faded.

---

Second, I feel like I already posted this a while back, but I’m not about to check my tags from last year. Also from Hana’s next big fic and incredibly rough around the edges too, but let’s not worry about that right now, self

---

The roaring of the plane’s engine faded, leaving the immediate area. It would likely come back for round two, but for now it was far enough way for her to actually take stock of her current position.

She stood still, running through the past few seconds as they remained braced against the wall, and when she finally looked up at him, she noticed John’s sunglasses were missing. They had been knocked clear off of him sometime in the last minute, with no hope of ever being found at this rate. Even his hair was starting to look worse for wear, no longer fully slicked back and neat.

John, on the other hand had his eyes set right on her. So blue, and so damn perplexed it would’ve been hilarious in any other situation than this. But this wasn’t a one-off moment where they were messing with each other over the radio and he was miles away. No, he was right here in front of her, and rapidly looking more and more pissed off by the second.

Her mouth went dry. Fuck.

She scrambled to back off, but he kept on her, only a beat behind. Her revolver was right by her side. If he went for a gun, maybe she could swing it in front-

The floor ran out from beneath her before she could think to do anything else.

Part of the wall had been blown out in this area of the building, leaving a hole large enough for anyone to fumble through. Or in her case, to fall through, as she felt herself tumble backwards. She idly caught a second instance of confusion gracing John’s features, and wanted to laugh.

Two for two. For that she deserved a prize.

---

And finally, something from the No-Cult AU, because 1) the fic in question here’s one section short of being done and 2) it’s the kind of lighthearted nonsense I’m badly in need of right now.

---

“Having trouble?”

With his sunglasses still down, he’d angled his head just enough to be able to keep the lone eye he cracked open on him, and Sharky side-eyed him as he dragged his tank off.

“Yeah, it’s hot. I’m fucking swimming over here and you’re telling me you’re not?” He twisted it between his hands and squeezed, and John’s nose wrinkled at the gesture. “I’d have shed more than half of that shit after ten minutes.”

“Clearly, judging from your current state,” John said, opening both eyes to look at him. “But I wasn’t referring to any of that. It’s hardly been five minutes, and you’re all but vibrating in place. Is it really that difficult to stand still?”

Sharky gave him a withering look. “You kinda forget the part where I’m working to pay you off? And the longer I take, the longer I gotta do any of this?”

“You can take ten to rest. You can take fifteen even. If you’re tired you get injured, and if you’re injured you can’t work. Defeats the purpose of any of it, doesn’t it?”

“Well, yeah. But-”

“Believe it or not, I don’t want to see you hurt again.” John sat up, and leaned towards him. “And I’m in charge here still, aren’t I? I could order you to sit here for however long I wanted, but I won’t.”

A frown had crept in, but Sharky let it go. “Yeah?”

“Yes, because that won’t get either of us what we want, and right now I want you healthy and thinking clearly. You, on the other hand, want to be debt-free, and I think I may have found a compromise. Now, I did mention that I wouldn’t be throwing orders at you to sit still. That’s still true, but a bet? That might be more to your liking.”

“…A bet?”

John’s lips curved into a wicked smile. “That’s right. A bet. Interested?”

#wip #definitely late again but I can't help it #I have to try and tweak things if possible #I really do need to get some more work in on the Trap fic's outline #and my resume but that's an awful given #also I'd like to apologize to everyone that tagged me before (I want to say last week) b/c I didn't mean to be so late #but after Wednesday I was done

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misha-moose-dean-burger-lover · 5 years

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Movie Night (ft. Cas's t-shirt)

THANK YOU for the ask, Dear Anon! I'm very flattered that you enjoyed the last one, and hope this meets your expectations! I WISH I could tag you in this, but you're on anon so.. Anyways, I went for Tuesday movie night idea, and clubbed it with a 'cute t-shirt prompt' I received and it got long AF but please leave a comment if you read and like!

"Ahh," Dean let out a perfect sound of exhaustion meeting the plush comfort of his couch. "It's finally Tuesday."

Sam snorted from the side, because his relationship with tuesdays had been kind of a love-hate. Not that Dean ever took him seriously - he doesn't blame his brother, really, because he wouldn't believe Dean either if he told him 'a piano crushed you to death' or any of those other ridiculous ways in which he'd died.

"If you like movie nights that much," Jack added, from the side - he was settled in one of the big chairs, looking more like a kid than he usually did. "Why don't we watch movies on other nights, too?"

Sam leaped to answer, ever ready to squeeze in a lesson for the nephilim. Good values needed to be a part of the upbringing. Children need to be taught by example. "There's an analogy we can use for this, Jack. Say, uh, Dean loves his birthday very much." Dean frowned at his brother. "Because of the pie, and the gifts, and all the beer." Dean shrugged. "So, he wishes on his birthday candles that everyday be his birthday!" Sam paused, and Dean wondered why he spoke as if he was talking to a kid, and not the strongest 2-year-old ever. "But, what happens then, is that he keeps growing a year older on each birthday - that is, everyday!"

Jack looked alarmed. "That's - bad."

"Yeah, because then I'd grow to be 60 in like a month and die." Dean added, in a deadpan.

"It won't take you thirty years to get to sixty." Sam reminded him.

"Shut up, Sam." Dean scowled and turned back to Jack. "Listen, kid, this isn't about all the good movies in the world getting finished too soon, if we watch 'em everyday. It's more about the attitude."

Jack nodded.

"Like, uh," Dean swallowed. "Like our dad always taught me and Sammy, hunters need to live a disciplined life. Can't just start watching a movie whenever, because that'll make your head feel like you're giving it permission to do crap, just like that, without a routine. That's never good for a hunter - even less so, he'd say, for the sons of an ex-Marine. Messes your head up, and takes away your ability to fixate on your decisions." Dean paused. "It's not like I've not watched movies on a Saturday because I wanted to, but the old man made sense - it's just, a routine is better to stick to."

"That sounds like a horrible amount of behavioral psychology to associate to an activity as trivial as watching a movie." Came a new voice, as Cas stood in the doorframe, his head just slightly tilted as his eyes looked straight at Dean.

Dean's exhale was caught in his lungs, and he blinked, staring at Cas with a chest full of air, and still feeling like he'd sink instead of buoyant. Cas was no longer in the trenchcoat and pants - he wore grey pyjamas which fit snug over his thighs, and a t-shirt which had to be new, because holy fucking shit.

He'd have noticed the angel walking around their bunker, wearing a black AC/DC shirt like that - simple, to someone else, perhaps - yet the way it fit over his biceps, widened his shoulders a bit more, and gave an elevated look to his chest because of the smooth descent to a toned abdomen - rendered Dean incapable of looking away. Complete with his hair sticking up at odd angles, hints of a stubble and inspecting eyes focussed on Dean, he looked like the stuff of Dean's (guilty, oh so guilty) dreams.

"H-hey, Cas." Dean cleared his throat, shifting on the larger couch to make space for him. He waved his hand dismissively to disregard all that he'd just said. "Forget about that, it was crap - come sit down." He suggested, breathlessly.

"Look who finally joined us," Sam addressed, in a normal voice and not even bothering to look up again - making Dean wonder why he didn't get all caught up in Cas's t-shirt, like Dean just had. He was unfairly attractive - but not just to Dean, right?

"I'm sorry," Cas replied, as he sat down next to Dean. Not a single part of them touched, since they were on opposite edges of a large couch Dean originally got for Sam and him - but there was still a tingling under Dean's skin, which had to be Cas's fault. "I couldn't find any socks." He turned to Dean, suddenly smiled, and tugged his pyjama up a little to show him the socks he wore. A pair of fucking novelty socks, they were - but Dean found himself grinning mindlessly, as Cas crossed his legs under him, and the visual was taken away from him.

"Of course, you couldn't." Sam inputted. "Dean hasn't been doing the laundry lately."

"Why am I the only one supposed to do it?" Dean threw back, and Sam didn't say anything to it.

"Nevermind." Cas declared. "I found socks, unwashed though they may be. Let us start." He referred to the movie.

Jack had fell silent for a moment, and he spoke up again. "Yeah! What are we watching today?"

At the same time that Sam opened his mouth - probably to drag Dean on how they better not watch something they'd just watched - Dean spoke up. "We're watching The Fellowship of The Ring, today."

"We just watched that on literally the third Tuesday of March -" Sam complained.

"Listen." Dean threw back. "Don't shove your crazy awesome memory with movies and dates, in my face - 'cause my brain forgot the movie already."

"Forgot? You probably can quote it line by line, Dean." Sam frowned. "But I guess you're not satisfied until you flawlessly recite it in your sleep, like Lost Boys."

Dean flashed his best shit-eating grin, and if that's what he was gonna do, he wasn't gonna agree with Sam. "Well, it's what we're watching, Sammy. Deal with it."

Sam narrowed his eyes. "What about Jack? Or Cas? Why don't you ask them if they want to watch Lord of the Rings again?"

"I do." Jack announced, brightly. "I like Frodo and Samwise Gamgee." Sam rolled his eyes. "But, I could also watch something else. I trust Sam's recommendations, after Harry Potter." He added, faithfully.

"Careful, buddy, Sammy's raising your son to be a nerd." Dean muttered to Cas, and he nodded, as if it was a line that needed to be answered with a nod.

Sam grinned like it was victory handed to him on a platter. "He said he could watch something else, Dean."

"What about Cas?" Dean turned to him, rotating in his seat. "Whadd'ya wanna watch, buddy?"

Cas pursed his lips, as if in deep thought. The deciding element. The one who'd tip the scales in the favor of one of the Winchesters.

"It's not Sophie's Choice," Sam grumbled sourly, as if he already knew what Cas would choose.

"Let him think!" Dean shushed his brother.

"I have reached a decision." Cas informed everyone, looking solemnly at the TV, instead of their faces. "We shall watch The Fellowship Of The Ring, tonight." He turned to Sam. "And if there's no hunts and we're at the bunker tomorrow too, Sam's choice shall prevail - that is, if Dean agrees to go against John's sayings and watch a movie on a Wednesday."

"That's fair." Jack grinned.

Dean beamed at Cas, with his little smile and his goddamn t-shirt, which was gonna drive Dean crazy in due time, he was sure. "See, Sam?" He ignored the comment on his father, because it was rare stilted humor, and in a perfect deadpan.

Sam muttered something under his breath which sounded a little bit like 'profound bond' for some reason, and rolled his eyes in defeated agreement, as Dean began to look for the movie.

"Whatever," Sam substituted, not looking up from his phone as the opening credits began to play. "The three of you can rewatch the entire LOTR series if you want, I'll just leave you to it." He shrugged.

"Hey!" Dean was annoyed. This was family movie night. Sam was supposed to be a part of it too. "Lord of the Rings is right up your alley, nerd. Why're you bitch-facing so hard tonight?"

"Well," Sam chewed on his lip. "It's very long, and I wanted to get to bed for an early night."

Dean narrowed his eyes, and hit pause on the remote just as the elves began to narrate. "Why?"

"No reason." Sam stalled. There was an almost familiar edge to his voice and -

Suddenly, it all made sense to Dean. The dots connected in his head, and Sam's reluctance to watch a three hours long movie was suddenly reasoned.

"Why, Sam?" Cas repeated, intrigued. "Are you alright? Do you not feel well?"

"He feels fine. I know," Dean cut in. "He's got a date." Sam's eyes widened before he vigorously shook his head in denial. "Some virtual crap, I bet, because you don't like to get laid, and an actual date may've involved that - but whatever is your idea of a fun time, hey, I'm not judging."

"It's not a date!" He declared.

"Then it's something like it." Dean shrugged, getting surer, with Sam's panicked expression. He knew his brother well enough to read through this cover. "Tell me Sammy, is this a video call with some chick you met online on those awful sites?"

"Dude, no." Sam balked. "I'm on no such awful site to meet chicks."

"Sure, you're not." Dean narrowed his eyes. "Then, who? Because clearly I'm right about the rest of it."

"It's," Sam looked like he didn't wanna continue, would like nothing better than to not finish the sentence. But with Cas joining in on the stare, he let out a subdued, "Uh, Rowena."

There was a stillness in the room. Dean and Cas slowly exchanged a look, and Sam flushed. "Who?"

"We know her, Dean!" Jack corrected, promptly.

"Not like Sam does," Dean shot at his brother, who looked flustered as crap, and it was all Dean had ever wanted from this conversation.

"Dean!" Sam looked grossed out, while it should've been them. He was the one dating a three hundred years old witch. "We're gonna discuss -"

"- if you're about to tell me you'll discuss a case, I swear to call you on your bullshit by calling Rowena right away." Dean challenged, definitely.

"I -" Sam pursed his lips. "I don't need to have this conversation with you, jerk."

"What about the rest of us?" Cas asked, and there was a smirk playing on his lips, which made him all the more attractive.

"None of you." Sam declared, standing up, looking offended. "You are literally infants! Don't breathe a word of this to anyone, Dean, or I'll - whatever, just watch your frigging movie, I'm out of here."

"If you're gonna do stuff, use headphones!" Dean waited until Sam was far enough to not hit Dean for it and yelled after him, as the latter marched out of the room, embarrassed. It was his duty as the older brother to make that happen, so no issues there. He turned back to Cas, grinning at him - and Jack, of course.

"The rest of us are here without the intention of leaving halfway to call a chick, right?" Dean asked, though it was a pretty stupid question for Jack - and if the answer were yes for Cas, he'd have a major-ass freak out right there.

"Right." Cas confirmed, for some reason; his voice rich and gravelly, and Dean's attention was once again taken by Cas's t-shirt - now that his kid brother was sufficiently out of the picture. True, Jack was still there, but that's a different issue. Dean had to hold a reputation in front of Sam, that he could control his senses in the presence of Cas, and that he could rein it in, and that he could do a lot of things which he was very far from, in reality.

"Me too." Jack announced, brightly, and Dean rolled his eyes.

"Jack, you're two." Cas informed him, and Dean had to stifle a snort at the very notion. Nevertheless, he toned down the weird, made himself comfortable in the couch - maybe shifting a little towards the middle, and let out a small, content sigh, for the second time this evening.

He hit play.

“Why do we keep making the same mistake?” Dean groaned, his head falling back on the sofa. Once again, like every tuesday ever - they’d forgotten to get food before they sat to watch the movie. Now, around half an hour in, it was all Dean could think about. But getting up seemed like an awful chore.

Cas nodded his head in agreement, grave and earnest. “It’s because we don’t learn our lesson.”

“Dean, do you want to learn said lesson tonight, by not eating?” Jack asked.

“No.” Dean glared at him. “I may be around Mr. No-Food, and Little-to-no-food, but it isn’t wearing off on me.” They’d not paused the movie to have this discussion, so he kept his eyes on the screen as he spoke. “As a human, I have a few simple needs. Such as beer and something like popcorn to chew as I watch a classic with my - I mean, with you guys.”

“Okay." Cas shuffled in his seat, beginning to stand up. Dean frowned instantly, and pulled him down, gripping his wrist. Cas easily succumbed, and was back on the couch with a surprised little bounce - looking at Dean, confused. "What? I'll get you the beer and popcorn, so that you don't have to get up. I can obviously see you don't want to."

Aww, Dean's brain melted.

"Nope." He said, out loud, popping the 'p'. "You don't need to do that. I'll go."

"I volunteer, Dean. It's not about need," Cas protested. "And you enjoy this movie more than I do."

"Sure, but I've watched it a helluva lot more too." Dean raised his eyebrows, and Cas smiled a little, one of those smiles that he reserved for Dean, and made his insides flutter.

"We could just pause it." Jack suggested, not looking away from the TV yet, for the entirety of the conversation.

"No, you keep watching, there's no need," Dean excused, standing up himself, smiling in spite of himself. Cas looked at him, and not at the screen.

"Dean," And that wonderful voice of his swept over Dean's brain and made the puddle vaporize or some shit.

"Yeah, Cas?"

"I could keep telling you what's happening, while you're in the kitchen." Cas proposed, breaking into a wider smile, all crinkly and toothy.

"Aww, Cas," Dean couldn't stop himself in time, staring blindly at Cas's face and short-circuiting in his head. And instantly cleared his throat, and added in a more composed tone. "Okay, you do that. Thanks, I guess."

Dean wondered, as he walked into the kitchen and went looking for the bacon he'd made earlier, what was up with him tonight. He was usually able to hold his tongue in front of Cas - he was usually able to look away from him, even though it took some persuasion. But there was something today, that had taken away his brain-to-mouth-and-eyes filter.

Must be the new shirt.

Dean knocked, obnoxiously loud, at Sam's door before barging in with a plate of bacon and a beer. He saw Sam fast asleep, on his front, and did not know where to go with that, so he left the table at his bedside in case he was going to wake up and resume his midnight call or something.

Then he took the rest of the food and two beers and went back to the movie room.

All through his venture, Cas had kept yelling updates through the door. "Merry and Pippin just hugged Frodo!", "And now, Frodo just met Bilbo again!", "Arwen is speaking with Frodo now!" This had made Dean grin so hard, that he almost dropped the dishes. Damn, Cas was awesome.

As Dean handed him a beer, and put the plate of bacon between them on the couch, Cas whispered to him. "And Arwen just kissed Aragorn, son of Arathorn."

And Dean stared at Cas, his blue, blue eyes and his eyebrows pinched together in concentration, and his crinkled nose - and his goddamn voice, and his way of speaking, and how he just said the words 'Aragorn, son of Arathorn' like an entire fucking dork, and how adorable it was that he'd been doing a live-commentary for Dean, and just - he was almost overpowered by a desire to kiss the perfect little smile tugging at his lips, and palm the stubble-covered cheeks, and maybe, if Jack weren't here, pull that gorgeous fucking t-shirt over his head, because it was distracting.

Dean was instantly taken aback by his own stream of thoughts. He was clearly going crazy.

He could bet it was the fault of the shirt.

Okay, but at this moment, Dean needs the remote.

And it's not just because the remote is on the other side, next to Cas, and Dean's brain instantly launches into a scene in his head, when Dean asks for the remote and Cas is too comfortable (he's already holding onto a large cushion like it's a blanket) to move, and he tells Dean to take it himself - and then Dean will have to lean over Cas to get it, and there'll be a moment where he's almost on top of him, and they'll happen to look at each other, and Cas's eyes will flit down to Dean's lips as Dean adjusts himself to reach the remote, on Cas's lap, and maybe Cas says something like -

That's enough.

Dean doesn't need the remote so that something like that plays out in reality. He only needs the remote to lower the volume, because Jack is asleep and he'll wake up otherwise in the war scene and noise that'll follow.

But this way or that, he can see the said scene happening.

Maybe there's a part of him which wants it to happen exactly how it happened in his head.

Maybe it will.

So, with more energy than the sentence needed, he says, "Cas! I need the remote!"

And Cas turns his head to look at Dean, an incomprehensible expression.

But instead of saying a variation of, 'take it yourself' like he was really, really supposed to -

He picks up the remote with his left hand and hands it to Dean simply.

Dean stares at it for a moment, everything forgotten, especially the reason why he needed the remote in the first place. And then he kicks himself for being a goddamn teenage girl about this, and plays off the disappointment with a 'thank you' in the manliest voice he can conjure, and he's pretty sure it makes up for the kind-of-but-not-really pornography he'd been dreaming up. Sam's irritating voice nags in his head, you're confusing reality with porn again.

Of course, Dean is too lost thinking and staring at Cas sideways when he's sure Cas can't see him - to remember to lower the volume, and Jack wakes up with a jolt at the Uruk-Hai screeching at Gimli the dwarf.

Jack's going off to his room. The movie isn't finished yet, but he's been dosing off throughout and Dean can't tolerate the insult to the Classic, so he tells him to just go off to sleep. It's been a long day.

"Will you both watch it whole?" Jack asks groggily, before leaving and Dean looks enquiringly at Cas. He only has to turn his head a little, because Cas is much closer to him now. They've both gravitated towards the middle.

"Of course." Cas answers. "Unless Dean needs to sleep." Dean shakes his head confidently, and Jack nods.

"Okay, goodnight dads." He mutters, at least it sounds like it, and Dean would've lost it if Cas's slight weight leaning on his arm weren't grounding him to his current location instead of somewhere panicky in his head.

"Goodnight, Jack." Dean lets out, and he's aware it doesn't sound as constipated as he thought it would, and he's proud of it.

"Dean." Cas speaks up, a moment later. "I think we should turn off the lights."

"What?" Dean blinks, mildly.

"I know neither of us will want to get up later." Cas justifies. "So we might as well do it now."

"Can't you," Dean grumbles. "Can't you use your mojo to push the switch, or..?"

Cas sighs. Then blinks, and the entire room goes dark. Cas's eyes open, and they're gleaming like blue halos of light in the suddenly dark room - and Dean can still make out his face, in the light of it. It's all hard lines and small smiles, from the little he sees. "I need to remember I can do these things, don't I?" He mumbles.

"Yeah, our human incapabilities are wearing off on ya." Dean tells him and they start looking at the screen again.

"You're not incapable if you have to stand up to turn off the lights." Cas replies, and Dean just hums in response.

A little later, Cas speaks again, and he sounds happier almost. "Dean."

"Uh-huh?" Dean looks away from Gandalf on the screen, to look at the angel.

"Did you notice Jack kept falling asleep?"

Dean pauses. "Oh." He smiles too, it coming over him all of a sudden. "Yeah."

"That means," Cas's tone is bright, and Dean can hear his smile. "He's enough human to fall asleep in the middle of a movie, again."

"Human incapabilities strike again," Dean teases, and Cas chuckles audibly and it's a really, really good moment. Although yeah, it's a bit too domestic for Dean to be perfectly at calm - Cas and he are sitting in the dark, watching a movie they've watched so many times before, discussing the progress of the nephilim they've been raising (with Sam, of course) and Dean has his hand around Cas's seat - in what he now feels guilty on realizing is the oldest trick in every guy's playbook. They're both more in the middle of the couch than not, and the beers have been drained to the last drop. One of them doesn't sleep, the other won't - and then there's Cas's perfect t-shirt, which shall drive Dean to madness each time he sees it, and beyond.

Slowly, the arm which is on the couch, falls on Cas's shoulder - and it's a rather rapid course from there to it being slung around Cas, with Cas tucked under it and leaning into Dean so that it's comfortable.

It's not that Cas's head is on Dean's chest, or not even that his fingers are playing with the fabric of Cas's shirt - its just that they're so close to doing that, and somehow Dean can't pull back this time.

Like, he suddenly realizes, he's been doing forever.

It's again, a good thing that he pretty much knows LOTR scene by scene, and in spite of almost completely being distracted by everything Cas, he answers all trivial questions Cas mumbles at him in that deep, deep baritone - and there's a heat pooling in Dean's insides, and he can't quite place if its the spot behind his ribs, or further south.

Both sounds most appropriate.

Dean is not proud of this, but he fell asleep.

It's not that he didn't finish the movie, because he did - he remembers the last scene (or it could be from a previous watching that he recalls it) but it's just that he fell asleep right there. Next to Cas.

No, not even next to him. Pretty much wrapped around him. And somehow that's - not so wild, after all. It kinda feels awesome. Its not even morning yet, so he has more hours.

He wakes up with his hair tickling his breath and coughs mildly when he realizes that he'd buried his nose in Cas's hair - and his lips on his head, apparently. He straightens, but is sure to not make much movement - because Cas doesn't sleep like they do, he rather drifts off to a sorta-catatonic state but stays very much awake and alert. He doesn't want to wake Cas up, because the angel looks so comfortable, nestled on Dean's chest - that it somehow invokes a feeling of pride in him.

And love.

And that's that. The not-freaking-out segment of this story abruptly comes to an end, and Dean clenches his fist to stop himself from beginning to tremble.

He ends up with a fistful of that goddamn shirt which Dean blames for everything in that night, and Cas stirring awake, and straightening. The weight rested on Dean's abdomen is lost, and it feels weird and colder.

"It's seven minutes to four. Ante Meridiem." Cas announces, in a voice which is roughened by lack of use.

"You should go back to sleep." Dean begs, because Cas doesn't need to see Dean get anxious about the whole pile of feelings he's beginning to feel crushed under.

"Dean." Cas says, in that voice, and straightens some more. He's at Dean's height again, and their noses are inches apart, and Cas looks worried about him. "Dean?" He repeats, and he's concerned, and he's perfect, and his voice is something else, and the way he looks at him is something else like Dean is worthy of all his attention somehow - and the emotions are brimming and he doesn't know what to do with them until he -

He jerks himself ahead, and grabs Cas's shirt for good measures, pressing his lips against Cas's.

It's a moment of bravery, it's a moment of impulse, and it's a moment of utter stupidity because Cas doesn't react -

Until he does, and he kisses back, and he's excited and into it and Dean's taken aback by his vigor and in awe of his own hands which are grappling at Cas's t-shirt for friction as he moans into Cas's mouth.

"I blame the t-shirt," He whines, when they pull away, to look at each other better. And he does.

Of course, he's not an idiot (except for the many times that he is). But what he definitely isn't, is dense enough to not realize that this had been over ten years in the making.

These urges were familiar, and suppressed each time - the sudden feelings were overpowering, except he'd learn to deal with them tactfully, by crushing them with every means possible.

But what had changed today and he'd actually acted on it instead of swallowing it, had to be the tee. It fit like magic, and it perfectly showcased his lean, muscled chest - and gave a peak of his collarbones, and if he stretched, his obliques - and it was as black as his hair in the dark, and ah, it had to be the shirt.

Because otherwise, he didn't know what it could be, that had made tonight - today - this.

Cas still had his hand on Dean's bicep. "This one?" He looks down at himself. "I got it from your closet months ago."

"What -"

"And, you blame it?" He repeats.

"No," Dean shakes his head, anxiously, truthfully as he captures his lips in a kiss again. Slotting in place against each other, and as loving as they were passionate - he had had no idea that kissing Cas would be this amazing. "I love it. I'm gonna need you to keep wearing it. On Thanksgiving, I'm gonna be thankful for it."

Cas laughs against Dean's lips, and says something which is lost in the bliss of the moment.

Nevermind. He has all the moments after this, to listen to him. But he only has this one, at the end of a Tuesday movie night, to enjoy their first kiss (he's pretty sure all the short, little kisses just make up one major kiss). So he does.

Edit: Thank you for reading! Would like to tag @iamcharliebradburylevelperfect @awkward-penguin-in-a-trenchcoat @all-or-nothing-baby @styggtroll @notyoursweetbaboo @moderatelypanickedbisexual @but-for-the-gods-three-days and @emmii4 ! If you don't wanna be tagged, I'll remove you from the list, just ask! Have an awesome day!

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winterisakiller · 5 years

Text

Love & Great Buildings - Chapter Thirteen

Chapter: 13/19

Character/Relationship: Tom Hiddleston/Rosemary Mathews (OFC)

Genre: Romance/Angst

Summary: Three years have passed and a chance encounter brings Tom and Rosie together again. Can time make any difference or are they doomed to repeat their mistakes.

Rating: T

Author’s Notes/Warnings: This is part nine of Last Minutes and Lost Evenings. Many thanks to @redfoxwritesstuff for listening to me ramble incessantly about this story and being a sounding board when I needed it. You are a lifesaver, even if your stories break my heart. This chapter was initially MUCH longer, but after realizing that I needed to add an important happening to the end of the original chapter, I split it in two.

This story and its preceding one-shots can be also be found on AO3 under the username winterisakiller (sparkinside)

Tag List: @tinchentitri @noplacelikehome77 @theheartofpenelope

Previous Chapter

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“So what you’re telling me, Rose, is that instead of our weekly girl’s night, you are opting to have him over instead?” Jules voice dripped with barely contained sarcasm.

Rosemary felt herself flush with guilt. This was horribly last minute and she did feel terrible leaving Jules in the lurch, but she desperately, and admittedly selfishly, wanted to spend what time she could with Tom before he was gone. And, she thought uncharitably, it’s not like she hasn’t ditched you for Nick in the past and at the absolute last minute. She rolled her eyes and rested her head against her upturned palm. This is not what I wanted today. Rosemary groaned internally and turned her attention back to her phone, resting beside her on the couch its speaker function on. She loved Jules. Loved her dearly. She was one of her fondest friends but dear god there were times…Lord, give me strength.

“Jules…” her voice trailed off in warning. “It’s just this week. We’ll be back on next week I promise you. It’s just…Tom, he’s...He’s off on his press tour…thing in two days and this is the only night he’s got free.” She paused before admitting, “I just want to spend time with him before he goes.”

When he had called her last night asking if she was free the following evening, wanting to try to get together at least before he left, she hadn’t hesitated. Of course she wanted to see him; wanted to spend what time she could with him. He’d been so busy the last week; between packing, various business commitments, and last minute organizing they hadn’t had any chance to really sit and talk. Not like they had in the weeks prior. And she’d missed it. Missed him.

It had only hit her early in the morning as she pushed her way into the crowded Underground carriage that having Tom come over meant that she would have to cancel on Jules. She’d selfishly held off as long as she reasonably could before calling, knowing that Jules would be less than thrilled. Well, she thought wryly, you certainly weren’t wrong.

There was a huff from the other end of the line. “Fine,” Jules all but pouted. “But you so owe me. And big time. I’m talking two maybe three meals worth. Oh and a nice bottle of red,” Jules added as an afterthought. She could practically hear the grin on Jules’ face. “A very nice bottle.”

“Seriously?” Rosemary chuckled as she ran a hand through her hair, noting that she would most certainly need to wash it that evening before Tom arrived. One more thing to add to the list. “You are ridiculous.”

Jules let out a short, loud bark of a laugh. “And yet you adore me. Funny that.”

“I question the logic of it every single day,” Rosemary fired in response, mirth lacing her tone.

“Yeah. Yeah. Yeah,” Jules intoned. “You keep saying that and yet here we are still friends.”

Rosemary rolled her eyes and groaned, “One of these days…”

Jules simply laughed in response; a warm, rich sound that pulled an unexpected answering laugh from Rosemary. When their laughter had fizzled out Jules let out a dramatic sigh and stated, “Since I’ve effectively been abandoned, I guess I’ll have to let you go now. I’ve got to call Nick and see if maybe he still loves me.”

“Such a drama queen,” Rosemary teased back. “Go on you, call your long-suffering fiancé and complain about what a horrid friend I am.” Both women laughed heartily at that. “Well off you go then. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Laters,” Jules echoed before she hung up. Well that’s one thing down.

Rosemary sighed and found herself glancing around her living room. It was neat enough, by her own standards; hell, it was clean enough that Jules wouldn’t so much as have batted an eye at the few stray pieces of clothing scattered about. But, she found herself fretting, would it be neat enough for Tom? She immediately shook her head at the thought. It was ridiculous; she knew that with a dead certainty. He’d seen in flat in various states of disarray, especially when he would arrive at her door unannounced back from filming or promoting god knows where, and hadn’t cared in the slightest. She let out a low groan. She didn’t know why it mattered so much to her now. Or well, no, that was a lie; she knew all too well why it mattered and that had been half of the problem. “Mathews,” she hissed at herself, “get a grip.”

With a grunt of effort, she pushed herself up onto her feet and began to grab the bits and bobs that had slowly spread throughout the room since she’d last straightened it. Stray cardigans and magazines lined the backs and seats of chairs, various shoes and half-finished novels lay haphazardly by the doorway and the couch. In all honestly it was nothing really, but Rosemary knew there was no way she could just let it be. It would take virtually no time to straighten but at least this would give her something to do.

In the end it took all of fifteen minutes to straighten the room and, if the clock on her wall was to be believed, she still had a good six hours before Tom was due. Six hours to shower, dress, and make sure everything was in order. Six hours to get various snacks and drinks ready, and figure out dinner. Do I cook or play it safe and go with ordering in? She pondered, groaning at yet another uncertainty for the evening. Cook. I’ll make him something nice, especially since he won’t have chance for anything home cooked for a while.

Rosemary found herself almost regretting not staying longer than the short morning shift she’d pulled at the second Stories shop; she’d covered for Hanna, who’d had a doctor’s appointment. It had only been a few hours but she had taken great joy in the simple tasks that had been her life’s blood for so many years. She had enjoyed the quiet hustle that was setting up the shop for the days’ business, organizing the registers and various displays, making sure they were stocked with paper bags and receipt tape. The little day to day things she found she missed more and more now that they were no longer hers to fret over. They’d had a handful of customers during that time; she’d sold two books, three magazines, and a handful of newspapers. A solid start if she did say so herself. Not a bad start for a Thursday morning.

She briefly thought of calling Hanna and seeing if there was any need at the shop, even for an hour or so, but quickly dismissed the idea out of hand. Hiding at the shop was not the way for her to handle the nerves that had set up residence in her stomach at the thought of the evening ahead, nor was it conductive to actually making sure everything was in order. She’d done enough hiding and avoiding in the last few months, it did her little good. Better to face things head on. No matter how it wrecked her nerves.

“Right,” she murmured to herself and turned her attention to the cramped, but functional, kitchen. A quick survey of her pantry and fridge told her she was in desperate need of a shop. Especially if she wanted to cook a decent meal for Tom. For the both of us, she corrected, not letting herself think too much on it. With a decisive nod, she headed to the door, grabbing her keys and purse from the small table and headed out to face the warmth of the May late morning.

As she walked, Rosemary mentally went down her shopping list; veg for roasting, crusty bread, potatoes, cream, possibly leeks, bacon, maybe a small chicken? She laughed softly at herself; going out of her way to impress by cooking rather than the typical takeaway. Not that Tom would have been overly bothered with takeaway. But she wanted to make this nice, wanted to put in the effort. And she steadfast refused to let herself think too much on the why of it. She was a decent cook and this wouldn’t be stretching her. Too much at least.

The weather had been wonderfully warm during the day and she was glad to take full advantage of it when she could. And today was certainly no exception. The pavements were full of the usual early afternoon foot traffic; people lost in their own worlds, navigating the streets almost by instinct. She found herself observing as she made her way slowly down the few blocks that separated her flat from the nearest market.

The Waitrose was far less crowded than she’d expected with the weekend drawing so close. She grabbed a basket and began to wander her way slowly down the aisles. She enjoyed the almost peace she found in her wanderings. She’d always found grocery shopping relaxing, though she could not put a finger on exactly why. Something to do with seeking out the perfect pieces in order to make something wonderful with them later. She chuckled to herself. It sounded ludicrous even in her own mind, but still it made a strange sort of sense to her.

She took her time searching through the produce available, picking each piece with care. Wanting everything to be perfect. A small voice in the back of her mind told her she was being utterly ridiculous, putting in this much effort for what amounted to nothing more than a night in with a friend. They weren’t dating for heaven’s sake and Tom didn’t need all this fuss, wouldn’t want it, she knew that. But she couldn’t shake the need to want to impress him. She thought of, and quickly dismissed, the idea of calling Jules for advice as she would have in the past. The last thing she wanted was a lecture, as well intended as it might be. She would never let me hear the end of it.

With a groan, Rosemary dropped her head into her hands, half full basket tucked into the elbow of her bent arm. Maybe this isn’t the best idea I’ve ever had. She desperately needed to get a grip, and quickly. Right, she thought raising her head back up, this is just like any other night with a friend. Don’t go making a big deal out of it. Just get a few basics for the rest of the week and forget this mess. We can order a fucking curry and call it a night. He won’t hate you for not cooking for him, just relax and let it go. She took another deep breath and pulled herself upright. Resolved, she quickly finished her shopping and headed back into the warmth of the early afternoon.

Rosemary was juggling the reusable bag of groceries on her arm while rifling through her purse for her keys when her phone started to ring. “Fuck,” she muttered aloud, her fingers finally brushing against the cool metal of her keys. She quickly pulled them out and unlocked the door, pushing it closed behind her with the ball of her foot. Her purse and groceries landed in a messy pile on the nearest chair as she scrambled to find, answer, and place her phone onto speaker before voicemail cut in. “Hello?” she growled in frustration after finally finding and answering the damned thing. God, I need a smaller bag, she snapped at herself. And less bloody stuff.

“Rosie,” Tom’s voice echoed in the room, slightly tinny with the distortion of the speakers. “I wasn’t sure I was going to catch you. I…Is everything alright?” His voice was laced with concern as he carried on, seeming to have caught onto her less than cordial greeting. “I’ve not caught you at a bad time, have I?”

“No, no, no,” she reassured, brushing an errant strand of hair from her face where it had fallen from the messy bun she’d pulled it into prior to leaving her flat. “I just got in from the market. Had a bit of a fight trying to find my bleeding keys. They somehow managed to migrate to the very bottom of my purse. Again.” She let out a groan of frustration at that. She desperately needed a better organizational system for her bag. It was no better than a black hole at the best of times.

Tom’s laughter filled the room and she couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face at the sound. “I take it you ultimately won that battle?”

“Just barely.” She reached down and gathered the shopping bag in her hand once more, making her way towards the kitchen. “So what do I owe the pleasure of this call?” Rosemary fought to ignore the unease that crept into her gut at the thought that Tom was calling to cancel their plans. She’d so been looking forward to having him to herself before he had to leave. It’s life, Rose. You aren’t the only thing in his life and you knew this going in. Deal with it and move on.

“I just wanted to see if there was anything you’d like me to bring for tonight.” Relief flooded through her at his words. He wasn’t cancelling. She felt ridiculous that she’d even allowed herself to entertain the notion. Tom paused, she could hear him clear his throat before continuing, “And to see if the six o’clock start time was set in stone.”

Her heart dropped again. No, she scolded herself. No. He’s still coming, don’t get yourself get so fucking worked up over him being late. He’s still coming. It’s fine. She busied her hands, putting her groceries away with a quick efficiency. The more she moved the less she would think, or god so she hoped. “Oh, if you are going to be later that’s fine…”

“Oh no no no,” Tom blurted out in a rush, cutting Rosemary’s rambling off abruptly. “I’m not going to be late. I was…actually hoping to maybe come by earlier. If it’s not going to be putting you out.”

Rosemary laughed out loud despite herself at the hopeful uncertainty in his voice. It was almost soothing, the knowledge that she wasn’t the only one who seemed on edge and far too nervous. Once she’d placed the last package in its proper place, she moved back into the living room and began to pace back and forth. All of this nervous energy was going to be the death of her, she just knew it. She paused briefly at the window, looking down onto the crowded pavements at the people passing by. “Earlier is fine,” she reassured him. You’re still coming. “How much earlier are you thinking?”

There was a long pause before Tom spoke again, his words tinged with a nervous laughter. “Um, well not now,” he joked, nervous energy palpable even through the phone, “but maybe in the next few hours? If that is alright with you? I don’t want to put any stress on you or make you feel like you have to rush.” He rambled on in that adorable fashion that was so utterly him. God, he would be the death of her.

“That’s fine,” she reassured, wishing that she could reach through the phone and squeeze his hand. It was a silly impulse she wasn’t sure she wanted to check. “Just ring before you head over, okay?”

Tom chuckled, “Sure thing.” She could hear a rustling from the other end of the line. “Are you sure there’s nothing you need me to bring? I could always stop by the shops on my way…”

She found herself laughing at his rambling once more. “You don’t need to bring anything, Tom. Just yourself.”

He chuckled again at that. “I think I can handle that. I’ll talk to you later then, okay?”

“Alright,” she breathed and shortly thereafter the call disconnected. Alright, she told herself. Here we go.

It was quarter past three when the ringing of her phone broke through the loud whirl of the vacuum. With little else to do, Rosemary had spent the better part of the afternoon cleaning. The kitchen and bathroom where damn near spotless and her bedroom was neater than it had been in longer than she cared to think on; not that she expected him or anyone else to see it. Vacuuming the living room had been the last task on her list. That and then a quick shower and all she would have left to kill was time.

Quickly switching off the machine, she dived towards the coffee table, grabbing her phone deftly with one hand. She smiled as the screen flashed Tom’s name and swiping the screen to answer. “Hello you.”

Tom’s laughter filled her ear and sent a shiver down her spine. It floored her, the effect he had on her. How a word or, god, even his laugh could send her mind spiraling down paths she had no right to entertain. Not when she wasn’t completely sure what she wanted. Or well wasn’t sure she was willing to actually go after what she wanted. Maybe it was for the best he would be gone for a while. She could take the time to think, really think, about what she truly wanted and just what she was willing to do about it. Be completely certain before she decided either way. “…half an hour, give or take.”

Rosemary shook herself from her thoughts; her face flushing to what she was sure was a very bright red. He’d been talking, for god only knew how long, while she’d been wool gathering and she hadn’t heard a damned thing he’d said. “I’m sorry Tom, I honestly didn’t catch any of that,” she whispered. Even she could hear the embarrassment in her voice.

“You’re not listening to me, Darling?” She could easily hear the pout in his voice. “I’m crushed.” He laughed heartily before continuing. “As I was saying, I’m about to head into the station and catch the tube so I should be at yours in half an hour if all goes well.”

“Half an hour?” She parroted dumbly. “As in thirty minutes from now?”

There was a pause on the other end, “…Yes, that tends to be the definition of half an hour.” His voice was slower now, laced with confusion and concern. “Is that a problem?”

“No,” Rosemary forced out, rubbing her eyes with her free hand. She had maybe thirty minutes to shower and dress herself before he would at her door. Dammit all! “No its fine. I’ll see you in thirty minutes then.” She all but ran towards the bedroom, pulling open the nearest drawer and pilfering through its contents. Clothes, she needed to find the right clothes and then shower as quickly as she could. God, thirty minutes? That was nothing.

“Rosie, are you sure…” Tom’s voice cut through her panic and she realized with a start that she hadn’t hung up the phone. Great.

“Tom, its fine. I’ve got to go. I’ll see you soon. Okay?” She didn’t wait for his answer, merely hit the end button and tossed her phone onto the bed behind her. “What to wear, what to wear?” she hissed at herself, feeling all of her earlier tension and nerves reignite with a vengeance. “This shouldn’t be so bloody hard.”

Rosemary took a deep breath and forced herself to calm. She grabbed a t-shirt from the drawer; light green and soft from years of wash and wear. She grabbed a pair of dark jeans to pair with. Not the prettiest of ensembles but it would do. This isn’t a date, she told herself. Stop fussing. “Good enough. It’s good enough,” she muttered to herself before digging through the top drawer and grabbing a much nicer set of bra and underwear than she would usually wear for a night in; she did not let herself think over long on the why of it. Not a date. Absolutely not a date.

Spinning on her heel, she all but sprinted to the bathroom, set the water to as hot as she could stand, stripped, and climbed into the spray. She washed her hair and herself as quickly as she could, knowing that her time was running painfully short. Once clean she scrambled to her room, hair and body wrapped in towels, and worked frantically to dry and dress. She had just turned off the hair dryer, studying the results in her bedroom mirror, when she heard the tell-tale knock on her door.

“Right,” she breathed, smoothing the front of her shirt down. “Now or never.”

Next Chapter

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x ofc #Tom and Rosie #Love & Great Buildings

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radiantseraphina · 5 years

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WIP Challenge

Fair warning, this is a LONG post. Maybe now, you will all understand why I don’t get anything done. @sociallyunacceptableorb @chingkittycat I cannot wait to learn how you name your documents.

I was tagged by @siverwrites

Oh, dear God. You’re all about to see the embarrassing amount of stuff I work on all at once across my multiple WIP folders

Challenge: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous.

Document4: A novel that I’m co-writing. It has a girl with mysterious powers and a scheming aristocrat. It’s kind of getting all my attention right now because deadlines for the publisher. It also has a character named Dorian, who I can’t take seriously after that ‘Funko Pop of Dorian Gray’ post.

STD Ch 2: STD is an unfortunate shortening of the title Silver-Tongued Devil, my Kirby fanfic where Nightmare keeps harassing Customer Service, a poor door-to-door salesman, into joining his monster selling company.

All Applicants Must Love Cats: The lesbian roommate serial killer novel.

Lord and Knight: Kirby fanfic that follows Sonata. Basically, Meta and Dedede become besties. It’s kind of like Once Upon a Dream but more...detailed?

MetaJecra: Heh. Jecra is a young and super enthusiastic knight who is on a knightly mission to find a monster terrorizing a nearby village and stealing their children, so he goes into the woods, finds Meta (who is not stealing people’s children), and they end up in this huge mess that Garlude has to bail them out of. This is The Adventures of Sir Jecra the Magnificent and Blueberry that I’ve referred to a couple of times.

Modern DLU: This has every scene I’ve ever written and not yet used for DLU.

Overcoming Child Abuse: Someone...long ago, posted this AU about Meta leaving Nightmare and going through therapy, while raising Kirby. And Dedede is Meta’s neighbor and thinks Meta is very attractive, but Meta doesn’t get it. It’s like a...critique of how mental health is treated/finding a good psychiatrist. It’s okay to go to therapy and get medicine and help kind of thing.

Prince Fluff: Chapter Two for Spinning a Yarn, my Kirby fanfic.

Sonatina: The ending chapter for Sonata, one of my other Kirby fanfics.

Sugar-Spun: Kirby gets abducted by an evil wizard who wants to eat him, but it does not all go according to plan.

Superhero AU Galaxia: The Kirby superhero AU focusing on post-Haltmann experimentation Meta, his relationship with Galaxia, and Dark and Daroach having a buddy cop thing going on.

The Golden AU: The Golden Lady AU where Garlude and Galaxia are in love, and no one dies.

Barbazul: Bluebeard with lesbians.

Dame Ragnelle: Basically, The Wedding of Sir Gawain, but different. After refusing a man’s advances, Lunette is cursed to be a hideous monster by night unless she can find a man willing to marry her and give her equal footing in their relationship; this, of course, will only work if she doesn’t tell the guy to do this. Lunette’s sister disguises herself as a knight, goes to Arthur’s court, and tells Arthur to solve that riddle or die. So Arthur sets off on this journey to give Gawaine (who hates him) some Family Bonding Treatment(TM). And they run into Lunette, who starts to really have the hots for Gawaine.

Knight Slayer: It’s basically Gareth and Lynette with emphasis on Lynette and her role in basically leading a bunch of knights to their deaths in trying to save her sister.

Legacy: Mysterious Pengu lady arrives and slips Dedede a love potion. She wants to marry him and save her country. Meta is not happy.

Romcom: A romantic comedy involving a couple of Zelda cosplayers.

Sectoniadedede: AU where Sectonia and Dedede have an arranged marriage, while secretly pining for Taranza and Meta.

Seraphina: One of my attempts to work out my childhood abuse and my incredibly dark and complicated family history.

The Lady Hero’s Journey: This strange hero’s journey involving Appalachia and folk tales, set during the Year without Summer.

The Once and Future Queen: Artura Pendragon pulls the sword from the stone, and basically...it’s kind of King Arthur exploring rape culture.

Astriferous: Woman destined to end the world per the wishes of the cult she lives in decides to run away with a powerful mage. In space.

Clarissa: A retelling of Samuel Richardon’s Clarissa, basically. But more modern.

Fire Emblem WIP: It’s about Corrin and Jakob.

Gerudo Fanfic: Remember that Zelda fic I wrote about a Gerudo transgender man becoming king? All the work for that is here.

GSA Fanfic: A Kirby anime fanfic.

IDEK plus drabbles: If you’ve given me an anon request that remained unanswered, it’s probably in progress here.

Lor: It’s about Magolor.

MetaxSectonia: It’s this...really creepy fic about Sectonia wanting to “remake” Dark in Meta Knight.

Paging Anna: A reference to Anna Freud. After trying to take over Dreamland, Dedede makes Meta Knight go through this fifteen-step program to overcoming his traumatic childhood.

Sleeping Beauty: It’s Link and Midna post-Twilight Princess. Link falls into some sort of eternal sleep, so Midna and Zelda have to reunite to find a way to wake him up. And there are some really annoying fairies.

Tangled AU: Nightmare is a doting, but lonely wizard who makes himself a son...who is promptly stolen by Yin-Yarn and replaced with a bunch of lettuce, leading to Nightmare’s sort of comedic attack on the Queen of Expy medieval Germany.

The Witch in the Woods: A sort of prequel for Sonata that I never finished.

WIP: It’s literally a bunch of Kirby odds and ends. I have a chapter of Prayers and Miracles here. There’s some of Sonata, a little bit of Spinning a Yarn. Some of The Corpse Bride is here.

Zelda Fanfic: Link and Ganondorf are best friends until Destiny comes calling.

#what this doesn't include: my google drive #all my schoolwork #or my desktop #/long post #Sera tries Writing!#Sera tries Fanfic!

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kachulein · 5 years

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🌸Best Selfies of 2018🌸

I was tagged by my dear @simplyna to post my best selfies of 2018 and by the lovely @namiiy to post 8 selfies of 2018. So, uhm...I already sorted out the selfies I wanted to use for this year review before I got tagged for the 8 selfies, therefore I got more than 8. A lot more, in fact😅But let's start~♡

click for better resolution

I took these at the beginning of 2018 on January 30th to be exact. I was playing with the thought of getting bangs (and not just side bangs), so I experimented a little here.

On this collage, the two selfies on top are from back in May, while the two on the bottom are from August. The pink one I took in my hotel room on vacation at Lake Thun in Switzerland actually^-^

This one is a selfie I've never shown anyone before but I just like something about it(???). I took this on June 1st, it was the very first day of matriculation exams. And also, I tried out a self-tanning cream for the first time and because I wash my hands a ridiculous amount of times a day, the tan vanished on my hands earlier and it's very obvious. :') pls don't mind it lol

These are some selfies with a Snapchat filter I took on June 20th. Sometimes I like browsing through the different filters to see whether there's one I like and I thought this one was really cute, so I ended up taking these selfies. and the tan still hadn't vanished everywhere but I was too busy with exams and too lazy to scrub it off fully

These are some of my favourites from a photo shoot I did on July 9th. I tried out taking selfies with my selfie stick and oh lord, was it hard to take some of these. The hardest was the bottom left one, as you can see, both my hands are visible in this one, so I had to clamp the selfie stick in between my knees.🤦‍♀️😂

We're nearing autumn with those selfies. The top row were from September, and the one in the middle was another snapchat filter I liked (I barely ever use snapchat other than for cute selfies tbh). The bottom row is from September - October - November and I used my favourite filter in those.^-^

As you can see I took these on September 20th and that was also when I discovered my new favourite snow app filter. It's hard for me not to use it every time I take a selfie because I just like the ambiance the filter provides.~

Some more selfies I took with the filter mentioned above and I really like the selfie in the middle because as you can see, I took it on Minho's birthday and therefore it feels special for me. I'm weird

We've arrived in November with a bunch of selfies I took for two different bias selfie tags. These are the two last collages of my year review since I've been sick almost all of December and I've only once taken selfies on December 3rd but there's no space for those anymore¯\_(ツ)_/ ¯

Uhm well...I'm sorry for this huge post. I thought it would be a bit more interesting to give a bit of background information than just simply post a bunch of selfies,,,I guess? Maybe not^^" I'm sorry.

⚘I'll tag @marculees @http-jinnie @jjollyjisung @edusk-til-edawn @chimneycloud @berryminnie @evangeliinesamos @briee-elle @sunnycatuwu @jaded-tanzanite @littlefallenrebel @pwark-jisung @littlecoffeecake @leeknowbaby @visualgiggles @merryhjnnie @waitingonjhope @holy-suga @puppiechannie @visualminho @wootjin @scene-steala @hwangwhatjin and anyone else who'd like to do this~

⚘I'm not sure whether all of you are okay with posting selfies, so if you aren't I'm sorry for tagging you and feel free to ignore this. No one has to do it of course♡

#anyway i'm sorry for cursing you with my face #you don't have to do this of course #tagged #tag #selfie tag #best selfies of 2018 #my face

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randomxfiction · 6 years

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Hello, I’m back. :)

After ending my first fic kakashi’s kunoichi, I thought of doing shorter and weirder stuff. One time I saw a prompt in the tags about a soulmate au that involves hair colors. So.. yeah.. I tried.

Timeline: After the war, a year or so after Sasuke left the village.

A/N: This has gotten a bit weird and I won’t blame you if you stray away from it. That’s fine. I totally get you. I’m just experimenting plots and is still learning! Please enjoy. :*

KakaSaku // Soulmate AU Part I of III

Naruto and Sakura were bored on a gloomy weekend when they decided to invite their former teammates to hangout.

Considering Sasuke is not in the village, and Yamato is out for mission, Naruto and Sakura pouts as they walk side by side. Tiny specks of snow falls gently over their heads.

"Let's go check if Sai's home?" Naruto suggests.

Upon arriving at the apartment of their pale-faced friend, an inked baby tiger greets them at the front door. Sakura fished a scroll from her pocket out of habit and the hand drawn cub immediately leaps towards it, forming a note.

For any visitors, I am out on a romantic date with my soulmate. Please come back tomorrow or leave a message on my door. Thank you.

"Can’t he be more subtle?" Naruto laughs with the note's eye-straining cheesiness. "Soulmate? Sai's really gone overboard with Ino."

"He probably learned that in those stupid books he keeps on reading," Sakura remarks, crossing her arms. "I feel bad for her."

"Atleast she got a date," Naruto snorts.

"Do you want to die!?"

***

The two were left with no choice but to visit their former sensei -- obviously the busiest one of the bunch. They hopelessly dragged their feet towards the Hokage's office, and like the usual scenario, they see Kakashi drowning in towering paperwork.

He asks them of their purpose.

They took their chance and invited him to take a break for a quick ramen fix. The team haven't been together for a while, and it's quite rare for them to get an ample amount of free time on the same day.

“Come on, Kakashi-sensei,” Naruto requests and Sakura smiles shyly to him.

Kakashi stares back at them with tired eyes, half open, and his mind spacing out. He rotates his leather chair to face the window. Children are playing outside to build snowmen and throw snowballs instead of shurikens. How peaceful to see such a sight. The village is covered in a beautiful white cloak of ice.

In fact, anything is peaceful for him to look at except those damned papers on his desk.

A bowl of ramen is really inviting in this weather, he thought. The best thing to have right now, in the middle of piled up paperworks, is a large serving of Ichiraku's miso char siu. Hesitant to leave his office at first, but the Rokudaime eventually agrees with their plea, grabs his cape, and went on with his former students.

***

Itadakimasu, the three said in chorus. Excited for the hot soup to finally hit their mouths.

"Just like before, huh." Naruto is pleased with both the ramen and the presence of his former teammates. He smiles wide and happy.

"So, where are the others?" Kakashi blurts all of a sudden.

"Hm??" Naruto glanced with cheeks full, munching on his pork slice. "Why do you ask, Kakashi-sensei?"

"Well, earlier you mentioned that this is supposed to be a team get-together."

Naruto chuckles. "Sasuke and Captain Yamato are not in the village. How could you forget that, ya silly."

"Ahhh, right right,” Kakashi apologizes with his forgetfulness, "and Sai? I remember he just came back from a mission--"

"Sai is currently on a date with Ino." Sakura cuts in.

"--his apparent soulmate." Naruto adds, giggling to Sakura like a naughty brother teasing his sister.

She crosses her arms. "Hmph."

Kakashi's brows furrowed. Soulmate, huh.

"Did I hear that right, Naruto-kun?" Teuchi emerges from the kitchen. Suddenly, he stands behind the counter with starry eyes. "You said soulmate, right?" The old man continues.

All of them stared at the shop owner as if he's gone crazy.

Naruto nods, curious.

"It's probably from one of Sai's absurd books," Sakura explains as she fans her hand back and forth, faking a chuckle. "Don't mind it, Teuchi-san. Ehehehee."

"Oh, my dear, I can't just not mind it." The old man's sparkling eyes transformed into two blazing flames. "If that Sai boy really found his soulmate.. then that means.. that means!"

Kakashi squints, as if he already knows that it’s something ridiculous.

"What is it, old man!?" Naruto is on his feet in anticipation, leaning over to the counter.

Is he really serious in this soulmate bullshit? Sakura's inner self is growling.

The owner let out a deep, sharp exhale, “That means--”

"Come on, Teuchi-san, there is no such thing as soulmates." Sakura wasn't able to handle it anymore that she literally had to butt in. "Love is something that we choose -- not by some selfish force.”

She might be a desperate, hopeless romantic towards Sasuke, but even she can’t make herself believe in some pre-determined fairy tale.

"My, my, young lady. I cannot blame you of your naivety." Teuchi responds in a calm, wise manner.

Naruto was shocked with Sakura's sudden remark. He glances to her, then back to the old man, again to Sakura, then to Teuchi, he's so confused which side to take.

Kakashi felt his presence slowly getting erased in the middle of such ridiculous, yet expected, argument. He puts his hokage headdress back on, laid his arms crossed on the table, and slowy rests his face. Ah, I’m too old for this. Easing for a comfortable position with the hat covering his head like a turtle, muffling the noise. He took the chance for a peaceful little nap as the two continued to argue in the background.

"Alright, young lady.." Teuchi rolls his sleeve up.

"Hey, hey, take it easy old man. Let's not fight over this." Naruto tries to calm both of them down. “I'm pretty sure you will not survive Sakura-chan's punches."

"Don't be silly, Naruto-kun, I just want to show her something."

The stubborn pink hair closed her eyes and crossed her arms, dismissing them.

“Here.” Teuchi’s sleeve rolled all the way up to his shoulders, exposing his whole right arm. “Take a look.”

Naruto’s eyes widened. “Wha-what is that!? Did you burn yourself or something?”

“It’s a birth mark,” Teuchi chuckled. He looked over his shoulders with a pair of loving, nostalgic eyes. A patch of discolored skin reveals under his sleeves.

“It’s so weird,” Naruto examines, poking the patch of skin. “It’s red, and it’s.. almost.. shaped like a bowl.. a ramen bowl!”

The old man laughs, amused of Naruto’s observation.

Sakura’s curiosity reached its height and she decided to take a peek, opening one eye slightly. “Hmph. That doesn’t have anything to do with soulmates.”

“Well, it does actually.” He smiles at her and wrinkles form on his face. “I had this ever since I was a teenager. I never knew what it is, what it’s for, or where it came from. Until one day, I met the most amazing woman in my life.”

Naruto listened closely.

Teuchi paused to drink a glass of water then continues his story, “Of course, as a teenage boy I was struck in awe of how beautiful she was. Graceful, elegant, and gentle. But she’s an outsider, a traveler. That didn’t stop me, though. I approached her once and we immediately became friends. She came in and out of the village, constantly visiting me. Eventually, she agreed for us to be together. That time I felt like the luckiest man in the world.”

Sakura is starting to slowly pay attention. Still half-hearted, but listening.

“She moved in with me and we celebrated our love for each other. Our first morning, I remember, was that I woke up from an unbelievably delicious smell. I found her alone in the kitchen, doing a tiny little dance with nothing but an apron wrapped around her body. I sat on the dining table looking at her with awe, and she placed a bowl in front of me.”

“Tell me, is it ramen!? Tell me it’s ramen!” Naruto cuts in, emotionally invested with his story.

“It is the most amazing ramen that ever existed in the world.” The old man answers, sporting a nostalgic smile on his face. “But there’s more that caught my attention.”

Naruto gulps, waiting.

“For the first time, I saw her bare shoulders in broad daylight.. and I found.. the exact same patch of skin like mine.”

“No way!” The blonde haired ninja was dumbfounded with his revelation.

Teuchi gave a hearty chuckle before continuing. “I showed her mine and we were both shocked. It’s the exact same pattern, exact same shade, in the exact same place. That was a really weird morning for me.” He shakes his head upon remembering. “So I decided to ask the Leaf doctors about this unexplainable phenomenon.”

Kakashi’s head shuffles under his hat, getting comfortable.

“No one could give us a good explanation, not even Lady Tsunade. There were rumors floating from the nurses saying that, according to the global records, there were very rare cases of physical traits manifesting exactly alike between two different bodies. But in the Leaf, this was the first.”

“Not even Old Lady Tsunade knew what it was?” Naruto can’t believe what he just heard.

Teuchi nods. “But apparently, she escalated the news and it reached the Third Hokage. One night, in our suprise, Lord Hiruzen paid us a visit for a casual chat regarding the matter. He went out of his way to explain everything about the birth marks, and in our gratitude, we offered him a special bowl of ramen. I still remember his face after having the first sip of the broth.” He laughs again.

“Old man, stop stalling. What did the Third tell you?” Sakura’s face grimaced.

“Now this is where the good part starts, Sakura,” he smiles. “Lord Hiruzen told me, that only a very few people were lucky enough to have such evident manifestations..”

Sakura frowns. “Of what?”

“Of their soulmates, young lady.”

Naruto chimes in fast. “Wait, wait. So you’re telling us that the red patch of skin on your shoulder is exactly the same with that lady you were talking about, and then, this happens to be some sort of a way to determine that she’s your soulmate?”

“I always knew that you’re a bright kid, Naruto-kun. Yes, that’s what it is.” Teuchi approves of his comprehension. “When two people have something odd on their bodies that appears exactly the same, regardless of what it is, that means they are meant to be together, a couple destined by fate.”

“So.. if that’s how it is.. then..” Naruto starts to look underneath his jacket, to his back, beneath his shirt, he is now checking his toes. “Then.. wh-where’s mine?! I don’t have any!” He panics.

“Hahaha!”

“Eh?? What’s so funny, old man?”

Teuchi explains further. “This birthmark is our physical manifestation. Not everyone will have the same red patch of skin to determine their soulmates. Most of the time, people don’t realize theirs because it’s too subtle to begin with. Some might have the exact same mole positions across their bodies, while some can be as absurd as what we have, like maybe having the same white pattern underneath their fingernails. It could be anything, really.”

Sakura once again took a quick look to the old man’s shoulders, wondering if his story was actually real. She starts to mentally note all of her body markings she could possibly remember.

She asks, “You said you had it in your teenage years. So you never had it when you were still a child?”

“That’s right,” he answers. “It only revealed itself when I turned 18. Some might have their manifestations revealed to them earlier, some maybe later, while most people.. well.. they just never get the chance to see it in their lifetime.”

“What the hell does that mean,” she protests.

“It means, young lady, that physical manifestations are rare and special. Like I said, not everyone will have it naturally revealed to them. Lucky are those like us, who walked straight to each other at the right moment, and in the right time.”

“That’s just unfair!”

“Perhaps, it is.” The shop owner agrees. “Until today, I’ve never known of anyone else in the Leaf having the same situation, never even heard the word soulmates for decades.”

“It still doesn’t prove anything.” Sakura’s unwavering pride and stubbornness is getting the best of her. Deep down she wants to know more, but is too embarrassed to ask him. Especially not infront of Naruto and Kakashi.

“If you’re still not convinced, then let me tell you about the tale of the Hidden Fate.”

“Hidden Fate??” Naruto and Sakura repeated almost automatically. They never heard about this village before.

Teuchi’s face contorted, rummaging the story from his thoughts.

“It is said to be located at the outskirts of Konoha, just near the border from Suna. A tiny village resides there with a population of only one clan who possessed a bloodline limit passed down to generations, just like the Sharingan to the Uchihas.”

“But there’s no such village in the map.” Kakashi murmurs all of a sudden in a raspy, just-woke-up voice. His face is tired and eyes still droopy from a nice short nap. Naruto and Sakura looks at him with a face saying did he just fall asleep?

“Lord Hiruzen himself told me about this mysterious clan. It is said that they possess ancient powers to reveal any person’s unique manifestation, thus helping them determine their destined life partners.”

Kakashi adjusted his hat and hummed, expressing doubts for Teuchi’s tale.

“Well, it is a myth after all.” Teuchi clarifies. “Rumors say that people around the world started searching for them to have their manifestations revealed, but the moment the clan learned that their powers were exposed, they erased their traces in the map and became nomads. No one knows where they are, or if they really did exist.” The old man wipes his hands on his apron and rolled his sleeve back down, finishing his story.

Sakura noticed Naruto’s silence. He sits there with his chin resting on one hand, thinking hard, and seems to be concentrating on some distant memory.

“Hey, Naruto. What are you doing?”

“Shh. I’m thinking of Hinata’s body.” He answers casually.

“What!? You perv!?” She grabs his hair tight and drags him out of the stall.

Kakashi stood u and paid the bills. “Thanks for the meal.” Teuchi bows with a smile as the hokage leaves, following his students.

Naruto struggles with Sakura’s monstrous grip, “No, Sakura-chan! Ow! It’s not like that!”

“Shut up!”

“I-I’m thinking of any body marks we could possibly have alike! Ow, ow, ow!”

In the middle of the street, Sakura stops. “What, you too? I can’t believe you bought that obviously made up story!” She lets go of his hair. “I told you, love is supposed to be chosen by the people involved, never by destiny.”

“Right, sensei?!” Sakura demands for his opinion.

Kakashi waves a hand as he strides away further from the two. Uninterested and lethargic to get back to work.

***

That night, a gentle blizzard starts to howl over Konoha. Winter is a bit harsh this year, Kakashi thought, as he watches the snowfall from inside his room.

He climbs up to his bed and sits. Legs crossed, with a mirror in one hand. His other hand reached for his messy hair, parting it where it grows the thickest. He points the mirror and checks the growing clump of pink threads buried deep beneath all the silvers -- the hue of cherry blossoms he knows very well.

“Fuck,” exclaiming under his breath. He pushes himself to the bed and his back flopped on the mattress.

***

In the morning, thin snow resided on the pavement from last night’s blizzard. Sakura shivers in the cold air despite wearing the thickest jacket she owns. Her way is towards the hospital to check up on some research she’s working on, but impulsively, she decided to take on a different route and headed straight to the Yamanaka residence.

“Forehead girl! Nice to see you!”

“Ino, I have a really quick question for you.” Sakura held her on both shoulders with a serious face, her hands icy from outside’s weather.

Ino was surprised with her friend’s unlikely greeting, “Geez, Sakura, what is it?”

“How in the world did Sai determine that you are indeed his soulmate?” Her emerald eyes darted straight to the blonde girl.

Ino blushes rapidly, “What! How did you.. know about that!?”

“Naruto and I were supposed to invite him out when we found this on his door.” Sakura shows her the scroll that contains Sai’s note from yesterday. “You were on a date with him, right?”

“Uhm.. y-yes..” Ino alternately rocks her shoulders up and down, embarrassed. “Geez, even that idiot Naruto knew?” Her face blushed even more.

“Y-you see..” she stutters, “Sai calls me his soulmate. That’s our, uhm, term of endearment.” Ino confessed.

“Wait, what?”

“Some couples call their partners darling, honey, sweetheart. He calls me soulmate. Artists tend to be unconventional, don’t you agree?” She swoons upon remembering Sai’s romantic tendencies.

“God, I can’t believe I wasted my time on this.” The pink haired lady slaps his face with her palm, exasperated. I knew that old man was a fraud! Sakura turned her back and decided to leave the flower shop.

Ino was left with a bewildered face, noticing the ends of her friend’s hair that brushes inches longer behind her shoulders.

“Sakura?” she calls before she can even reach the door, “What happened to your hair?”

“Huh?” she looks back to Ino. “What are you talking about?”

Ino pointed her reflection from the glass pane. “I know you mentioned something about letting it grow, but since when did you start experimenting with hair colors?”

Sakura looks at her own reflection and sees the tips of her hair transformed in a familiar shade of black, almost like charcoal. A bluish undertone appear slightly noticeable whenever the faint sunlight hits. That’s.. weird? She’s absolutely sure she already saw this exact same shade somewhere, however unable to pinpoint exactly what it is.

Sakura laughed uncomfortably and rushed out of the flower shop. She tugs the hood of her jacket over her head and runs fast, a bit worried, as she tries to look for a nearby market to buy hair products.

***

In the Hokage’s office, Kakashi leans over his desk concentrating with the paperworks infront of him. His hand unconsciously keeps on brushing the part of his hair that buries the discolored strands, carefully clumping the silvers together in a strategic way that the pink won’t show.

Disoriented, he stripped himself off of the hokage robe and asks Shikamaru to clear his schedule for the day.

***

Back in Ichiraku, Kakashi arrives and sits silently on the farthest seat near the wall. Ayame walks out from the kitchen to ask him of his order.

“Sorry, but uh, is your father here?” The distressed hokage asks as soon as she saw the lady.

“He’s off to the market to re-stock ingredients and won’t be back soon. Is there something you need from him, Hokage-sama?”

Kakashi paused, thinking if he should continue what he’s planning to do.

“Hokage-sama?” Ayame repeats, snapping his attention back to her.

“Hmm.. Ayame-san, can I ask you something?” He starts.

“Anything, sir,” she replies with a smile.

“Do you remember your mother having a red patch of skin on her shoulder?”

Ayame thinks hard for a moment, “Hmmm. No, my mother doesn’t have that.” She placed a glass of water infront of Kakashi and continued. “I believe you’re talking about my father’s birthmark, he’s the only one in the family who has that.”

“Are you sure?” Kakashi still tries to wring information.

She laughs, “Of course, Hokage-sama, I’m sure of it.”

Kakashi unconsciously brushed his hair again, his mind is connecting all the intel he have, one after another. Trying to figure things out.

Finally, he stood up and went straight to the village gates.

***

Based on what Teuchi said, the village of Hidden Fate was located somewhere between the borders of Konoha and Suna. Kakashi knows very well that this is quite a risk, considering the rumors of the clan going nomadic. There will be no guarantee for him to find them there, nor prove their existence.

He runs his fingers through his hair once again as he jumps from one tree branch to another. There’s got to be an explanation to all of this.

And if there’s some truth with what he thinks this is, then why, he thought, why her of all people. He bites his tongue and speeds through the forest.

***

In the middle of his journey, Kakashi felt like his route turned oddly wrong and decided to take a break to recalibrate. Judging by the distance he traveled, he’s pretty sure he hasn’t gone that far away from the borders of Konoha. But observing the sudden shift of weather from a gloomy cold winter to a bright sunny spring, he knows he needed to stop for a moment.

He climbed the highest tree in sight and from up there, he scans the area then looks back to his map, comparing. At the far north, near a pond, he sees a humble temple that looks like one belonging to the monks. Small, but decent. He glances back to his map on-hand to double check and learns that the temple was not recorded. It is the first time he sees this as well, and even the surroundings look different. He must have gone lost to a different path.

Kakashi enters the clearance where the temple resides. The lake grew as he gets nearer, and the sunlight reflecting the water made its surface twinkle. Freshly trimmed grass brush on his sandals with every step, until finally he reaches the entrance.

The doors appear to be open and a familiar delicious smell hit his nose. Before he can step inside, a voice echoes to greet him from the back of the temple.

“Are you lost, young one?”

Kakashi stops on his tracks to observe, there was a short moment of silence.

“Come in, the food is ready,” an old lady invites him again, welcoming.

Sensing no threats of danger, Kakashi went inside the temple.

It felt even smaller inside, shadows occupy his sight due to the lack of proper lighting. The sunlight shines in and it’s all the light he could work with. Old wooden furniture were scattered everywhere, like it isn’t always attended to.

The old lady emerges from a small space that seemingly appears to be the kitchen, then proceeds to place a tray on the table. Two bowls of ramen, steaming and fresh from the pot. She unties her apron and hangs it.

“You’re just in time, young one, let’s eat.”

***

#kakasaku #kakashi #sakura #soulmate #ichiraku #teuchi #soulmateau

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buckysdiary · 5 years

Text

Healing Hands - Prologue

Pairings: Castiel x Pandora

Prologue

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Summary: Sam is in the cage. Dean is with Lisa and Ben. Castiel is back up in Heaven. And Pandora, Sam and Dean’s sister figure, is left with Bobby and a sticky note to explain what happened and where everyone went. Both Dean and Castiel left Pandora on her own, telling her to try and have a normal life and stop hunting. However, this only makes Pandora angry, since she thought family would never leave each other on their own. She fights with herself over being kind and staying with Bobby, or actually moving far away to forget that she ever knew Sam, Dean, or Castiel.

Words: 5,039

Warnings: Violence, Blood, Gore, Swearing

A/N: It’s been a while.

I've done a lot of stupid things in my life. I've ruined friendships, family connections, and even my own health because of all the idiotic, senseless things I've either said or done. Most of them, I regret, but not all of them; like the one time I threw a baseball so hard it flew through the window of my neighbor's house. Of course, I was scolded for that - but in the end, it got me a place on the girl's baseball team for a few years as the lead pitcher. Another time, I accidentally missed the bus to visit my Aunt - my father was furious, yelling at me about a wasted ticket. It actually turned out pretty well, because later that day, the bus ended up swerving off of the highway and crashing into the opposing traffic. If I had been on that bus, I probably would have been seriously injured, if not dead. So, like I said, I don't regret everything, even if the things I did held no beneficial result; but the dumbest, ridiculous, most foolish mistake I have ever made was tagging along with the Winchesters. I'm not saying that I regret it; I'm not saying that I don't. in fact, I couldn't tell you if I did or didn't. Every day with these two was a roller coaster. But joining forces with them was pretty damn stupid of me to do. I got myself into more trouble with Sam and Dean than I did before I met them - and I was often in a good amount of trouble. You see, I was a victim once. A long time ago, when I was 16 years old. My father had always been abusive towards me, was ridiculously short-tempered, and would often leave the house for days at a time after beating me. It just so happened that on one of those days, a ghoul had killed him; he returned home, disguised in my father's skin, and immediately began to treat me as any loving father would their daughter. And I, being unbelievably gullible, thought that he had just had a change of heart. For three days, I let this creature kiss my cheek and tell me, "I love you," thinking it was my own dad; but it felt good. I believed that things had taken a turn for the better. That was, until the blood-sucker grew a bit thirsty. I'm not going to go into detail about what happened after that. Let's just say, I lost a lot of blood, the Winchesters killed the ghoul, and the next thing I know, monsters are real. After that whole incident, they both gave me a pep talk on creatures such as that, and told me to go find my next closest relative to live with. Basically; don't wander around by myself. But who were they kidding? I wasn't about to live with a distant relative that I hadn't spoken with in years - for all I knew, they could be some sort of monster as well. The only two people that I trusted at the moment were Sam and Dean. They were the only people I could be sure weren't monsters. So, unless my aunt Mandy was wiling to cut herself with a silver knife to prove she was in fact not a blood-thirsty beast, I was sticking with those two baboons. Long enough that, after a few years, they actually accepted me as a sister-figure. And there, dear reader - there, is where I signed up for the longest and wildest thrill-ride that would be the rest of my life. ------------- One Year and Six Months Ago I couldn't believe it. No matter how many times I told myself, no matter how many times I tried to look past the meat suit, I still couldn't believe it - I was less than twenty feet away from the devil himself. I knew Sam was in there, too. I knew he could fight through this, fight Lucifer and win his mind back. But as I watched him, how he acted, how he spoke... I couldn't register it as two different souls in one body. I translated it as Sam - a sarcastic, asshole Sam that was low-key trying to kill us all. Then, there was Adam - or currently, Michael. He looked normal as ever, only angry as Hell (no pun intended). Adam was their half brother that they had met not too long ago. Or, at least, they had met his Ghoul twin. He and Lucifer were just getting ready to fight, until the four of us had pulled up, cutting the showdown short. I stood behind Castiel, with Bobby and Dean to my left. Rock of Ages was still blasting from the Impala's radio - it felt pretty empowering, listening to the song as we casually drove into the cemetery. But now that we were actually facing down two archangels, it didn't seem to offer any comfort or assurance. My hand rested on the angel blade in my pocket, although I knew it wouldn't be any use. My entire body was trembling despite my efforts to calm myself down. I didn't want Lucifer to know how terrified I was, or else he would use my fear against me. Still, the very thought of that made me afraid, and I only continued to panic with each second. While Lucifer and Michael were focused on Dean, Castiel took his chance to catch them by surprise. "Hey! Assbutt!!" shouted, and threw flaming glass bottle of Holy Fire at Michael. Moments after it hit him, the archangel screamed and burst into flames, disappearing into thin air. Just the sight of it made me quiver, as I realized just how much we had gotten ourselves into. Lucifer glared menacingly at Castiel, while Dean sent him a disappointed look. "Assbut?" he repeated. "He'll be back, and upset." Castiel ignored him. "But you've got your five minutes." "Castiel?" We all looked at Lucifer, who was now closing the distance between him and Cas. My knuckles were white around my angel blade, and in my fear, I began stuttering the Lord's Prayer under my breath. "Did you just Molotov my brother with Holy Fire?" he asked angrily. Castiel's mouth quivered into a nervous smile. "Uh... no?" he stammered. Lucifer stopped a few feet away from the angel. "No one dicks with my brother - but me." Seconds later, he snapped his fingers together. Suddenly, Castiel exploded into a red mist. Pieces of him went flying everywhere, landing on me and Bobby, and hitting the front of the Impala. "CAS!!" I screamed. My eyes were shut, trying to avoid looking at the remains of him surrounding me. Lucifer smirked mischievously. "This is why you don't mess with an archangel's stuff." I snapped. "You fucking BASTARD!!" I shouted. It had completely slipped my mind that this was still partially Sam, and not wholly Lucifer. I began to pull my angel blade from my coat pocket. "Panda, NO!!" Dean's voice rang out, loud and clear - but I didn't listen. I had spend years with Castiel, listening to him, laughing with and at him, watching him hunt with Sam and Dean. He had been one of my closest family members, even though we never shared the same blood. He was important to me; and now, this selfish parasite that was infested into Sam had just demolished him, right in front of my eyes. Angrily, I took the angel blade from my pocket and threw it at Lucifer. "PANDORA!!" Dean shouted again. The blade hit its mark, and perfectly. It landed right between Lucifer's eyebrows, causing him to stumble from the impact. For a second, I felt proud of my aim. Baseball practice really paid off, I guess. Then, as I realized what I had done, I was devastated. Not only did I hurt Lucifer, but Sam as well. I had probably ruined any chance of saving my brother that we had. I had killed Sam, and in that moment, I wished I could take the angel blade back. However, despite having the blade lodged into his head, Lucifer steadied himself. He looked at me with a proud smirk. "Wish granted." he stated. Before I could even register what he had meant, the blade was thrust from his forehead and straight into my throat. A painful, burning surge was sent into my chest - I tried to scream, but all that came out were choking sounds. I grabbed my throat, instantly recognizing the warm, wet, red substance running through my fingers. I sank to my knees in shock, unable to tear my eyes away from the blood. No... In seconds, Bobby was kneeling on the ground behind me, trying to cradle my head and muttering empty words. "Panda, look at me - keep your eyes on me - you're ok - everything's gonna be fine - " "Oh, what a shame..." I met Sam's smiling face. It's not him... It's not Sam... It's not Sam!! "Sorry, Panda." he said, so sincerely. It definitely sounded like Sam. It felt like it was Sam who had just slit my throat. So, in my half-dead state of mind, it was Sam, smirking at me, taunting me, watching me die. In a snap, my head hit the cold ground, and I was staring at the grass and Dean's shoes. It was all so quick; I went from angry to panicked, the blood was quickly rising up into my mouth, and my mind was quick to black out. And that was the last of it... for a while, at least. ---------------- Six hours later I had been awake for quite some time, listening intently. I heard birds outside, faint chatter coming from a radio, and the sound of willows swaying in the wind. Strange, that I would hear such things, when I was dead. Unless I was in Heaven... did Heaven have birds and trees? I always imagined that there were, but that was before I had found out that angels were often jerks, and God wasn't home all the time. Still, where else would there be birds and trees? Certainly not Hell. Well, I thought, if I would actually open my eyes and check, I would know where I was. However, I didn't want to open my eyes. No matter how beautiful my Heaven or how awful my Hell may be, I didn't want to accept that I was dead. Not to mention, I'd probably be alone where I was. I remembered the slit in my throat, the dull feeling of my head hitting the ground... but after that, I couldn't explain what I felt. There was definitely a memory after I blacked out, but the only word I could use to describe it was... nothing. Non-existent, was more of an understandable term, though no one could understand it unless they had felt it. But now, I was in... Heaven? Right? Or Hell? I knew I had moved on to one of those places, because I felt something. I was lying down, and the scent of dust and grease filled my nose. Where would I be where they would have dust? I thought. Hell, probably... but is this as bad as Hell gets? What about the sounds of the birds and the radio and the wind? Where's the fire and the torture and the screaming? Maybe my Hell is just... not knowing where I am. Being forced to wander around for eternity, never understanding where I am or where I'm going, what'll happen to me, who I'll meet- "Pandora?" I stiffened at the sound of my name - more, at the voice that had said it. It was definitely Bobby's voice. But then, that would mean... he was dead too? And we were both in Hell? Or Heaven? In my confusion and fear, I forced myself to open my eyes. I was greeted by the familiar living room of Bobby Singer, lying on his older-than-shit couch. He sat in front of me, his eyes filled with concern and caution. My thoughts were racing. Why is Bobby here? Where the Hell am I?! Where are Sam and Dean?! "...Pandora?" he repeated after a while. I stared at Bobby with wide eyes, as I felt my heartbeat pounding in my chest. It was strange to hear his voice; it felt as if I were hearing it for the very first time, though I knew that wasn't true. For a moment, I faltered. "Are... are we...?" "No," he replied, "we're very much alive. This ain't Heaven." I slowly processed his words. "Hell?" "Afraid not." That's not possible... I thought. "But- " The words were hard to say. "-but I died. He... he slit my throat." "Cas healed you and Dean, right before he left." "Cas is alive?!" I sat upright on the couch, disbelief plain on my face. Despite being dead a few hours earlier, my body was strangely full of energy. "So... so it must have worked? The plan that Dean had?" He hesitated for a bit. "Well... you see- " "Wait, why did Cas leave?" I asked. There were so many questions in my head. Mainly, how Cas was somehow revived from the dead, but also, why he would take off right after he had been blown to bits. "Said he had business up in Heaven." Bobby replied. "Alright, that's fair..." I tried to calm myself down and process everything that was going on: Cas died, I died, Sam somehow got Lucifer back into the cage... so we were alright? Despite the adrenaline still pumping in my veins from earlier, we should be okay? "Where's Dean?" I asked. Bobby didn't reply. He was staring at the wall behind me, avoiding the question. Panic struck me at his response "Where's Dean?!" I said again, a bit impatient. A sigh escaped his lips. "He's gone, too." I bit my lip as my emotions took over my mind. "What do you mean... gone? Like, 'I'll be back' gone, or... 'I won't be back'?" I chocked, thinking about what could have happened to him. "Well, he ain't dead." Bobby said, matter-of-factly, and I sighed in relief. "But he ain't coming back either, Panda." Anger now replaced any emotion I had beforehand. "Why? What does that mean?! And where the Hell did he go? Why would he leave us behind, just like that?" "He left a note." I scoffed. "Yeah, leave a note, that will fix everything." Bobby sighed again, before motioning towards a sticky note on the table. I bit my lip. An indirect message - not a good sign. Panda- I know you're probably mad that all I left was a note - I just didn't want to make this harder than it had to be. If I told you what I was doing in person, you wouldn't have let me go. The fight's over. It's all over. Satan's back in Hell with Michael, and Sam- well, Sam is gone too. And I'm sorry to say that so am I. This is your chance to start a new life, to be a normal human being. You can put hunting behind you and pretend none of this had ever happened. If you ever wanted to start a family, go back to school - here's your chance. I'm going back to take care of Lisa and Ben, to try and live the life I was never given the chance to start. I'm done with hunting. My family is now my first priority. But if you ever need me, you'll know where to find me. -Dean "He wants you to know that he left you here for your own good." Bobby said, never looking me in the eyes. "To keep you out of trouble." My head was shaking as I read the note over and over, tears stinging the edges of my eyes. "That's it?" I said angrily. "He just dumps me on your couch for you to take care of, and then drives off to live with Lisa?! I've been hunting with him for how long? And he suddenly thinks that I need protection?" I was fuming; " 'My family is now my first priority.' Who does he think is his family?! Apparently, not you or me, who fought next to him for a good chunk of his life. Apparently it's this fling he had a few years ago?!" "Pandora, I'm hurt by it just as much as you are." Bobby said. "But you gotta understand, Dean's right. He never got to live a normal life because of the way John treated him; he should be allowed to have this much." I shook my head. "I just don't understand how he could leave us behind like that. Family isn't just the person you have feelings for, family is the people who would risk their lives multiple times just to make sure you live to see another day." Bobby fell silent and stared at his hands in his lap. I was still furious over Dean's note, rereading it again, hoping that I would get some form of relief from it. But it only made me more angry. "I didn't get bitten by a vampire and save his ass for nothing. I didn't go through those stupid Djinn hallucinations for nothing. I did it because I knew he would do the same for me." I slammed the note back onto the table in anger. "Or so I thought." Bobby quickly spoke up. "Panda, you know he still cares about you. You're practically his sister." "Then why did he leave?!" I screamed. Bobby jumped in his seat at my outburst, but had nothing to say. I fell back down on the sofa, resting my head in my hands. "And what about Sam?" I asked. "Did he leave with Dean? Did he give up on hunting too?! He would have been livid if he knew what Dean was doing! He wouldn't have let his brother just walk off, Sam wouldn't do that! Where is he?!" Bobby was silent all throughout my rant. His eyes moved from mine to the floor, and he sighed. A sick, twisted feeling suddenly rose in my stomach. "Bobby, where's Sam?" I managed to whisper the words out, but I had a vague idea of what the answer would be. Bobby looked back at me sadly. "Panda... Sam didn't make it." I knew he would say that. I knew it was going to be bad - we had expected that Sam wouldn't survive from the beginning, and had accepted it. But knowing that he was dead was a whole different feeling. My mind was screaming with agony, and I wanted to cry as loud and as long as I could. But I forced myself to swallow it all, and instead stared at the floor. If I looked at Bobby, I knew I would fall apart. "So we didn't win?" I stammered, fighting the bile that threatened to rise into my throat. "Lucifer got to Sam?" "Well, not exactly..." Bobby said. "Lucifer is back in the cage, but only because Sam..." he choked on his own words. "He threw himself in there with him." His voice was hoarse as he spoke. "Adam - well, Michael, should I say - fell in the cage too." As Bobby was telling me all this, I chuckled. I don't know why I did, and I was appalled at myself for doing it. Bobby looked at me, astonished just as much as I was, as to why I would laugh in such a time. It was more of a nervous laughter - my body's own response to sorrow, an attempt my mind was making to try and cheer myself up. But I only felt like shit for giggling, and I wanted to stop. "Panda, you alright?" Bobby asked. Looking into his eyes, I noticed that tears were just about to fall from them - and I felt sick. I couldn't hold back my own emotions, and I began to sob. I was still in shock and disbelief that I had died (as anyone would be), and that I had been revived from death. And when I woke up, everyone had left; one was torn from me, and the other two abandoned me. What the Hell am I supposed to do when that happens? Did Dean and Castiel expect me to feel happy that I was alone? And did they not feel any guilt, leaving Bobby here alone to tell me what had happened? I mean, Dean couldn't even stay to tell me that his fucking brother had died?! Was I stupid enough to believe that he would actually take a bullet for me? Bobby began to choke on his own sobbing. "Pandora, we're gonna get through this- " I ignored him, instead leaving the room in a hurry. He called out my name frantically, but I ignored him. I ran into the guest bedroom and threw myself onto the bed. My head throbbed with anger and confusion, questions were racing through my mind... I was crushed. I was alone. But if Castiel and Dean truly believed that I could survive alone, then I was going to do just that. I wasn't going to care anymore. I was going to accept that the Winchesters and I were never as close as I thought we were - nowhere near as close. I was going to be by myself, be independent - I never relied on them all that much, but now, I was going to be completely and utterly on my own. And I wasn't going to regret anything. Except... Only that I never got to say goodbye. ---------------- Three hours later With a frustrated sigh, I finally was able to get my suitcase closed. I had stuffed all of the extra clothes and necessities that I always kept at Bobby's, including an old picture of me and my dad - I never knew why I hung onto it, since it didn't make me happy. There was also a small bird made of elm wood that Sam had carved for me - or, had attempted to, anyways. He knew how much of an avid fan I was of Edgar Allen Poe, so for my eighteenth birthday, he tried to carve a raven for me. We all agreed to just call it a 'bird' and ignore the fact that it barely even resembled that. Next to it, I had stuffed a compass that Dean gave me. He had no reason to, except that he found it during a hunt and believed he was too good for using it. Still, it held some significance to me - it was the only thing Dean had ever given me that wasn't also accredited to Sam. Along with those things, I packed my pocket bible, some extra rock salt, a copy of Jane Eyre (my favorite), and an extra hand gun I had kept hidden from the boys. Lord knows they would have never trusted me with anything again if they knew I had one of my own. Lastly, I put on Dean's old Commander Slub Twill jacket that I most definitely did not steal, and tucked my angel blade into my belt loop. I was finally ready to get out of here. Don't get me wrong - I wasn't taking Dean's advice to begin a life that I was never able to have. The life of an Average Joe sounded completely dull to me, and the last thing I wanted to do at the moment was follow orders from Dean. I just wanted to get away from the wreck that had been left behind. I could keep hunting monsters and just completely forget the whole first twenty years of my life. Well... somethings wouldn't be forgotten, of course, like all the knowledge I had learned about hunting from Sam, and my so-so combat skills from Dean. Also, Bobby taught me plenty about which beer is the best to drink after killing which creature. Those were precious memories I planned to hold for life. Quietly, I pattered down the staircase, carrying my single bag of luggage and avoiding the creaky spots. One last glance around the house, one last peek at the cluttered bookshelves and dusty furniture... it wasn't at all difficult to say goodbye. My home had always been in the back seat of the Impala (or the front, if Sam didn't feel like fighting me for it) and in old motels. However, an easy goodbye didn't make me feel any better. I felt empty, almost as though I was walking through a dream and just waiting for the moment where I would wake up to my normal life. "You gonna leave a note for me?" I jumped; in the kitchen, Bobby was sitting at the table, head in his hands, his back to me. There were several empty beer bottles on the table, including a few pictures scattered beside them. It looked as though he hadn't moved since I fled the living room earlier, save getting up to get the beer. "You didn't lose everyone, Panda." He turned to face me, and I noticed his eyes were red and swollen from crying. "I'm still here. I didn't leave you." A pang of guilt struck me right in the gut. I hadn't even thought about what leaving would do to Bobby - I had just assumed that he didn't need me, just like Dean and Cas had figured. If I left him here now, all alone... I would be no better then those two. I'd be doing exactly the same as they were doing to me, and Bobby didn't deserve that. But what was the other option? If I stayed, what would my future be? Watching old television programs with Bobby, killing a ghost every now and then, drinking beer, working on cars... It was sickening just to think about it, that my life wouldn't progress into anything. "I have to go, Bobby." I said, although I didn't believe it myself. "You know that, I can't stay here." "Why not?" he asked, his voice quivering. I hesitated with my answer. "I don't belong here anymore. The fight's over, there's nothing to do now. I need to move on." "Why does moving on have to mean leaving me?" His head was once again resting in his hands. "Because I need to go somewhere in life. I need to do something, or I'll just spend the rest of my life rotting away in this old shack." I didn't mean for my words to sound so harsh; then again, maybe I did. Maybe I wanted to make it easier for Bobby to let me go, by making his last memory of me a sour one. "Alright..." He took a sip of his beer, refusing to look at me. "Then go." he said. "Leave, go find a better life. If you ever come back, promise me you'll toss out my rotten corpse." I bit my lip; it was painful to hear him say that. But what did I expect? Wasn't this a better goodbye than one filled with empty promises to return one day? Wasn't it better then staying here at all? "I'm sorry, Bobby." "Don't try to sweeten your words, you already spat them out." he said coldly. I faltered at the scorn in his voice. If I walk out now, this will be my last memory of Bobby. I could stay and try to be his family, since he has no one else. I could try- "Why are you still standing there?" he asked, raising his voice. "If you're gonna leave me, then leave! Just get out already!!" He raised an empty beer bottle and threw it in my direction. I quickly dodged it and let it crash against the front door. Panic filled my chest as the shards of glass fell around me, and I was shaking with fear and anger. Feeling his words in the core of my chest, I dashed through the front door into the pouring rain, letting the wind breaker slam behind me. My eyes were hot with tears as I ran - I need to get away. I couldn't stand this - the entire day had been so awful, and it had all started and ended at Bobby's place. I just had to escape it, and I didn't care where I would end up. I just had to leave it all behind. "FUCK YOU DEAN!!" I screamed, and threw my bag down. "AND FUCK YOU CAS!! I HATE YOU!! I HATE YOU BOTH!!" I let my emotions take over me as I pulled out Dean's compass and, with perfect aim, chucked it right through the window of a nearby, broken-down Chevy. "I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOUR DISGUSTING FACES AGAIN!!" As I stepped back after my throw, I slipped in the muddy ground and landed on my back, knocking the wind right out of me. I squeezed my eyes shut in frustration and... screamed. I just screamed. I couldn't think of anything else to do or to say. Castiel and Dean didn't just leave, they took everything I had. "Because all I had was you two and Sam!!" I shouted again. Whether Cas could hear me or not, I didn't care. I opened my eyes and sat up. My clothes, now soaking, were beginning to make me shiver, and I had to start walking before the rain got any worse. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Bobby. He was staring at me from the kitchen window, a beer bottle in his hand. I stared back, neither angry at him nor ashamed of myself. I just stared. Get one good look at him before you leave him to dry out on his own. Did he hate me now? Suddenly, I remembered a friend I had in Bar Harbor, Maine. Lena. She was a good soul, although careless, but I knew she would let me in if I asked for her help. Deciding that was the best place to stay in my current situation, stood up and wiped the rain from my eyes. I made sure to avoid meeting Bobby's stare again, instead glaring at the road before me. Leaving the embers of those burned memories behind, along with Dean's compass, I set out towards my new destination. It was going to be a long walk.

#castiel x reader #castiel x pandora #supernatural #cas #castiel #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic #dean winchester #sam winchester #imagine #supernatural imagine #cas x reader #cas x pandora

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