#her feet look so natural on the branch! that doesn't happen all the time so i love it when it does :D | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

crystalxwitch · 1 year

Text

7| Pond - W. Maximoff

Summary: A hike to the hidden pond gives you the opportunity to grow closer to Wanda.

Masterlist

"I told you that it is real." You make your way through the maze of trees and bushes, getting a glimpse of shining water. "And you thought I wouldn't find it."

Wanda isn't that far behind you, breathing heavily because the last few minutes were steeper than usual. "Well, you weren't that sure of it at first. Besides, you misled us thrice this morning until we found the right track."

"At least I found it in the end or we wouldn't be at this beautiful place." You point to the pond that is hidden in the middle of the forest. "Natasha told me about it a few years ago when she discovered it with her girlfriend"

"You shouldn't have said that." Wanda slaps you on the shoulder. "I don't think I can go into the pond where Nat probably fucked the girl."

"You don't know that." You argue, trying to keep a serious face that cracks in a matter of seconds. "Okay.. yeah, that actually does sound like something Nat would do. But you need to see the good side of it. It happened years ago."

"That doesn't help."

"Okay, just try to forget everything I said during the last minute. That shouldn't be so difficult for you." You wave off her comment, placing your backpack on the ground. "We're here to take a short dip in the pond and not waste our time arguing about which positions they were doing in here."

"Oh, please stop talking." Wanda presses her hands against her ears, having the sudden urge to throw you into the pond. "Just get inside the water."

"Nothing more than that!"

Her eyes drop to the skin on your stomach as you take off your clothes. Oh, god. Hidden under the sweater you truly have abs. Heat rises to her face and other places. When did she become a teenager again? She is a grown woman for fucked sake.

Wanda immediately turns around, inspecting the trees to avoid looking at you. Don't act so pathetic it's embarrassing, Wanda. Hearing the cracking of tree branches under her feet, you steal a glance at her. Your hands freeze for a moment, too preoccupied with watching her as she touches the leaves.

"Are those maples?" Wanda asks, keeping her gaze locked on the plant. "I didn't know that they could grow in these conditions."

You part your lips. Besides having not much trust in your own education, you are one hundred percent sure that this tree is named Norway maple. Hence it comes as no surprise that it grows here. Additionally, you are sure - without praising the redhead too much - that she is the brightest out of the two of you.

"Norway's nature is so breathtaking, isn't it?"

Okay. That's weird. She's acting weird, isn't she? You wait for her to turn back around but she remains in the position, facing the tree and looking at it with the most unrealistic interest you have ever seen. Nodding to yourself, you get into the pond. She's crazy. Nothing you didn't already know about her.

Another minute passes by, and the redhead continues to stare into nature. You lean your head back against the stone wall, watching her with curious eyes. Playing with the water between your fingers, you can't keep silent any longer.

"Are you going to stand there all day?" You ask, seeing her body visibly react to your voice. "Or are you afraid of water?"

What's wrong with her today? She slowly turns her head around to face you. Your red bra shimmered through the water's surface, teasing her with its existence. The ends of your hair are already wet, grazing over the surface.

"I'm not afraid of it." Wanda replies, not meeting your gaze entirely as she looks behind your shoulder. "It's just that I'm more content with myself being dry than being wet."

"Oh, come on. You can snuggle up in front of the fireplace the moment we get home." You argue, patting the water as if you are on a couch. "Join me, it's not that cold."

Wanda crosses her arms in front of her chest, inspecting the pond. The water looks clear, with no visible fish swimming in it. Meeting your eyes again, she exhales quietly and nods. You make a small victory sound, throwing your arm in the air and creating bigger waves.

"Don't be so enthusiastic about it."

Her fingertips dip under her waistband, wanting to prove to herself that she could get inside the pond with you in it. Even though it is rather small. Wanda swallows harshly. Your eyes leave a burning imprint on her skin, her entire body itching. She can't do it with you looking at her like that. Her heart begins to race again.

"Turn around." She instructs, stopping her movements.

You hum, giving her a bright grin. Her voice is somehow softer than usual, mirroring her shy expression. Maybe something did change over the last couple of days.

"Okay."

You turn around, feeling like a teenager again as it reminds you of the horrible times in the school locker room. Swimming lessons.. Do you even need to say more?

Wanda strips down to her underwear, hugging her body as a chilly breeze brushes through the trees. This time of the year, Norway isn't exactly a tropical paradise but the winterly temperatures aren't here yet.

"Fuck." She shrieks, her lips already quivering. "It's so fucking cold. Why is it so cold?"

You laugh. "That's the meaning of an ice bath."

"But it's not winter yet. Shouldn't there be a bit of warmth left? I'm not a snow queen."

God, she's going to freeze her fucking tits off. Wanda groans, quickly lowering herself down until the water reaches her shoulders. The added cool wind isn't helping her feel better at all. She throws daggers into your direction with her eyes, knowing that you aren't the cause of the temperature but you still mislead her by saying that it's not that cold. You lied to her.

"Yeah, right. I remember now, you're Rapunzel. I guess that means that I'm Elsa." You chuckle, laughing a bit too loud at your own joke.

Wanda rolls her eyes. "More like the frozen giant or the trolls."

You look at her with raised eyebrows, surprised at her small fireback. She presses her lips together, the silence creeping over her back like a cold hand. Was this wrong of her to say?

You on the other hand are just too shocked at her words. One night she is this flustered, cute redhead. And on the other day, she is back to the old little with her witty comments.

"Just wait a few minutes, it will get more bearable." You explain as the water doesn't feel as cold as before to you. "Your body is going to get used to it."

Wanda quietly suffers through the next few minutes. She gets cold very easily and prefers a few extra layers of clothing during the colder months over everything. That means being in a pond in the middle of autumn is exactly her definition of having a great time.

"And? Are you feeling better?" You ask, truly caring for her well-being.

You scan her face for anything unusual. Bluish lips. Continuing shudders. No, everything seems to be all right with her. She still has her arms crossed in front of her chest, trying to give her body as much warmth as possible. Your small finger subconsciously twitches.

"You wouldn't be standing there if I weren't." She bites out, watching your face lights up at the comment. "For once, you were telling the truth."

"Told you so." Your heart grows warm at the sight of her, her emerald eyes mirroring the first behind her. "Also, I didn't lie to you beforehand. The water actually didn't feel that cold to me, it was quite alright."

"Sure."

She doesn't believe you. Wanting to lighten up the mood, you try to think about something that might cheer her up a bit. A hard task for someone who always seems to run around the world with a sour face. But not that much later an idea occurs to you.

You dive into the water, disappearing under the surface. Wanda presses herself against the back of the pond, trying to make out your shadow. But that means looking at your half-naked body. That's not a risk she can take, already feeling the reactions moving like snakes through her blood and down her body. Wanda doesn't know what to do.

"Boo!"

You emerge right in front of her, your eyes still closed as you wipe the water droplets off your face. Wanda shrieks, not expecting that you would come this close to her. She could see the water droplets hanging on your long lashes, glittering in the sunlight.

Wanda feels her heart racing, watching the water run down your face. "Don't do that."

"What exactly?" You chuckle, giving her a teasing glance as the redhead stares at you with an unreadable expression. "Diving?"

"Coming so close to me." She pushes you a few inches back, bringing an appropriate distance between you two again.

Her fingers shake as she touches your naked shoulder. Noticing her pupils dilate, you watch her closely. Your stomach does a small flip as the redhead can't keep up eye contact with the same intensity.

You bite down on your tongue, appreciating the sight of her pink-colored cheeks and irregular breathing. "Did it scare you?"

"Kind of. You are sometimes a bit.. intimidating." She admits, not thinking clearly as she sees your hardened nipples pressing against the material of your bra. "And distracting."

"A distraction?" You act offended, letting out a little laugh. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you mess up my mind. As if it's not enough for you to ruin my vacation, you need to.. I don't even know what you want from me!"

"What I want from you? Wanda, I think you're the one messing up the roles right now."

"You are the one coming close to me."

"I thought you liked my touch." You tilt your head to the side, sinking your teeth in your lower lip. "You didn't mind it last night. Actually, I think you were the one who placed my hand on your waist."

There it is. Shame rolls over her body like a hurricane, knocking her down as her wall crumbles.

"I- I'm sorry." Wanda closes her eyes as her breathing picks up. "That was wrong of me to do. I don't know what came over me. I'm sorry if it made you feel uncomfortable or if I-"

"It didn't." You stop her rambling, licking over your dry lips.

Her eyes widen until you are scared that they could fall out of her face at any given moment. "I did not?"

"No. Not at all. More like the opposite to be brutally honest." You remember her warmth against your body. Her deep breaths lured you to sleep like a lullaby. "You're too comfortable to not want around, princess."

Her heart misses a beat. "Don't call me that."

You smile even wider, knowing that she actually doesn't hate the pet name but more the reaction that causes it. "Princess?"

"Yeah."

"What else do you want me to call you?" You tease her further, slowly inching closer but having a close eye on her reactions.

She shakes her head ever so barely. This could be your chance to figure out once and for all if this is just a silly game for her or if she actually wants you. You leave a tiny distance between your bodies, so small that only a piece of paper could fit between you. Wanda doesn't say anything, looking at you with eyes that are full of surprise and something else.

Remembering the first day you met her, you hide your devilish grin. Wanda's breathing pattern is totally fucked by now but you aren't feeling much different. Just because you don't show it doesn't mean you don't have the same feelings rushing through your blood. You could drown in her eyes and happily get lost in them forever.

You tilt her chin upwards as she makes intentions to avoid staring at you. "Miss?"

Wanda tenses under your touch. Her eyes flutter shut as your fingers brush along her jawline. She has such perfect skin. A few freckles are painting the bridge of her nose that you didn't notice before. You are sure that she's the most beautiful woman you have ever laid eyes on. A few days ago you weren't able to answer that question but looking at her right now with the sun illuminating her face in an orange glow gives you all the answers that you need.

You lean in until your lips barely brush over her ear. "Miss Maximoff."

She nearly whimpers as your hot breath fans over her ear. "Y/n.."

Something touches your thigh making the corners of your lips twitch. It slowly skims over the inside of your thigh, traveling upwards. You lean back to look at her face, grinning from ear to ear. Innocent, sweet Wanda.

"Are you touching my thigh right now?" You husk out, surprised by her forward actions but not disapproving of them.

The fog inside her brain clears up a bit. "What?"

You look down at her lips, wanting to taste the essence of her beauty that called out to you. "Don't lie."

She shakes her head, confused eyes staring into yours. "I'm not."

The moment is gone. Your eyebrows shoot up, the touch on your thigh feeling a lot smoother than before. With a panicked scream, you jump away from her and out of the pond. Out of the corner of her eye, she barely sees the silver fish swimming fleeing the spot.

Wanda can't keep her laughs at bay, watching you shake your legs and run around the area in circles. Her bubbly laugh echoes through the forest, her eyes getting teary as her heart races in the same rhythm as yours. The only difference is that they are caused by two totally different reasons.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda fanfic #wanda mcu #wandamaximoff #marvel #wanda marvel #wanda maximoff

208 notes · View notes

casspurrjoybell-31 · 6 months

Text

The Consort's Will - Chapter 7 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

Finn

Tegan leads us down hallway after hallway.

More camouflaged men and women silently watch us as we pass.

Only the whites of their eyes give them away.

Nobody speaks to Tegan but I notice a few of them nod their heads as a sign of respect as she passes.

They do watch us as we move past, however.

Their varying shades of irises never leave us but their expressions remain hidden beneath layers of decorative rock that I have never seen before.

Brayden grips me tighter as we move deeper and deeper into the mountain.

He must be thinking this isn't safe because if this turns out to be dangerous, we have little chance of escaping without being caught.

We follow Tegan and turn a final corner and a brilliant hue of light fills the space around us.

I suck in a breath of disbelief as I glance at the commodious, wide ceiling.

Pieces of rock have been scraped out and replaced with lights.

Their placements are random and vary in intensity.

It reminds me of sparkling lights poking through the branches of a Christmas tree.

My eyes fall to the floor of this spacious room.

Couches and rugs of all different types, colors and sizes are everywhere.

Filling every seat are Secondaries.

The cacophony of their voices ricochet against the rock walls.

Some are reading, some are talking, some are laughing and some are simply resting.

But oh, they are all so eloquent.

They don't have the same edge to their features as vampires and the softness only adds more depth to the immortal portion of their flawless looks.

Brayden moves us closer to the wall, attempting to keep us out of the line of attention.

Already our presence is becoming noticed.

Tegan moves swiftly through the masses of people, leading us to another tunnel along the far wall.

This time there is no whispering or words of protest for the man in front to step aside.

Tegan opens the door and we follow until the voices in the main room echo into silence.

"Where are you taking us?" Brayden growls once the door behind us closes with a heavy thud.

Tegan doesn't answer but after we pass through another hallway, she stops at a door and knocks a single time.

The door creaks open slowly, not wide enough for us to see the person on the other side.

Tegan leans forward and whispers again.

It's soft enough that I can't hear but Brayden's eyes narrow at whatever she says.

Large hands move through the door and gently remove Leo from her arms.

His body looks so weak, so sickly pale.

My eyes catch on the blood that has soaked through the final shirt I pressed against his stomach.

He's lost so much.

Too much.

His eyes don't open as he's pulled inside and the tendrils of his shaggy blonde hair are the last thing I see before the door is closed again.

I swallow hard and the familiar fingertips of fear clutch my emotions in their grasps.

Tegan backs away from the door.

She glances around the floor, peering at the single drop of blood spilled from Leo's stomach before he was taken.

She moves her boot over it, scraping it across the uneven floor until the drop becomes hidden beneath a streak of mud.

Then she glances down at her shirt and scoffs.

"I'm going to have to get cleaned up," she mutters.

"Will he be alright?" I whisper the question even though she asked me not to talk.

Tegan's head snaps up in my direction and her expression is so menacing that I find myself huddling further into Brayden's touch for protection.

"They'll do what they can for him," she answers evenly.

She glances between Brayden and me before her eyes slide down to his waist.

"I'll be needing my gun back."

Brayden sets me to my feet and pulls out the gun in a swift movement.

I've never seen him use a gun before but he looks like a natural as he gracefully handles the piece of weaponry before returning it to Tegan.

"What happens now?" I ask.

The fear is thick in my voice.

This is the population we searched for endlessly.

Yet now that we've found them I'm already rethinking our decision.

It's clear they're not like us.

Then again, it's our fault that they're not.

We pushed them out of our society and so did the immortals.

What choice did they have but to hide in the mountains and keep to themselves?

"Now," Tegan answers slowly.

"I will take you to our leader. He will determine your payment."

Brayden and I are once again directed through various hallways of rock guarded by hidden Secondaries.

The news of our arrival must be circulating because this time their stoic faces crack under their curiosity.

Their dark eyes follow us with every step we take and I force myself to keep my attention elsewhere.

Tegan warned me not to speak, perhaps eye contact is frowned upon as well.

Instead I focus on the rocks as one hallway transforms into another.

The colors are starting to change.

The darker, ashy tones are lightening to a gentle auburn color.

I have the sudden instinct to reach out and touch them, to see if the rock walls are as smooth as they look.

But instead I stuff my hands into my pockets and keep moving.

As we approach the end of the hallway, Tegan's pace comes to a halt.

She waves her hand towards the door that's sitting in the middle and nods to the guards standing in front of it.

"They're here to see the Primary."

The guard on the left nods a single time.

The guard on the right, however, looks slightly wary.

He takes a step forward and frowns over at us before studying the blood staining Tegan's shirt.

"And is the Primary expecting guests?" he says the word like it's a curse, and his sneering tone is thick with disgust.

A shiver dances down my spine.

Out of instinct I position myself slightly behind Brayden.

He immediately pushes me further behind him, straightening his spine to block me from them.

His masculine fingers linger on my hip before he breaks the contact.

But the small touch makes an impact.

I chew on my lip and stare at his muscular shoulders twitching beneath his shirt.

It's been far too long since felt those shoulders.

More than that, it's been far too long since Brayden's drank from me.

I've noticed the brightening of his red eyes over the past few days but he hasn't made an advance.

He hasn't even broached the subject.

Before the war started, most humans viewed feeding their vampires as a chore.

Some even thought it was a punishment.

But I crave it.

I crave having his lips on me.

I crave having his body pressed against mine as he sates his hunger.

Aside from the initial pain of the bite, the act of a vampire drinking from a human is pleasurable.

It's euphoric, beyond anything I've ever experienced before.

My seductive thoughts come to a jarring halt when the wide door in front of us swings open.

Each of the guards straighten and move positions in order to keep the massive doors propped open.

The one on the left looks unfazed but I notice the one on the right still isn't happy about the situation.

Tegan scowls in his direction before stepping to the side to give us access to the door.

Just before we reach its threshold I think I hear her laughing quietly but I could be wrong.

My fleeting moments of happiness and longing are replaced by anxiety.

My eyes sweep over the new room.

Guards line the wall, all of them standing tall with their hands tucked behind their backs.

Their uniforms are different than the ones in the hallway.

They're not camouflaged to the rocks of the walls and the ceiling.

Instead they're all dressed in a matching purple color.

A vibrant, rich sash sits across each of their torsos. I swallow hard, quickly realizing this room is very different than the last.

There aren't any couches or pretty lights or relaxed conversation.

Instead this room is lightly furnished, pristine but minimal.

Even the air in here is different.

It's heavy and stiff, as if anything more tranquil would be out of place.

As I continue to glance around the room, a masculine voice cuts through the silence.

My attention snaps towards the desk.

"Ah, the vampire and the human," he says. "Your arrival has created quite the stir."

1 note · View note

angloie · 3 years

Text

Beach Trips and I'm Falling in Love 1/2

When Annabeth meets a strange boy on vacation, she doesn't expect for their relationship to grow much. He's... terribly sarcastic. Cocky. A not-so great match for her witty self. But after learning he visits the same beach every year she does, their strange friendship blooms into something more.

Their realtionship isn't the only thing that blooms over the yearsー that meaning a certain raven-haired boy.

genre ; childhood friends to lovers, fluff, strangers(?) to lovers, exchanging letters au, percabeth mortal au, 6.5k words.

warnings ; swearing, suggestive(?) themes.

Annabeth first falls in love with the beach at age seven during a vacation.

The airport was a little scary truth be told; new people and big security dogs. Though, the dogs are the things she likes most of the whole expirience. The plane there was much, much worseー she had never liked being so high up for so long. That's why Annabeth slept for most of it. (more like passed out.)

But now that she's woken up in a whole new setting, (that being her parent's cabin) her heart beats fastly with excitement. The unfamiliar aroma of saltwater and sand wafts into the bedroom, making her sniff deepy. The patched quilt that once layed on her is tossed to the wooden planked floors. Everything here is unfamiliar, whether it's the bedroom or the whole place itself.

Annabeth kicks her feet off the bed, rushing to the hallway. She practically bounces off the walls like a rubber ball. New, sights, new place, new people... She'll get the hang of it sooner or later.

Annabeth skids to a halt. "Can I go out?" She asks excitedly to the emptiness of the cabin, her voice echoing off the sparsely decorated walls. There's a pause. Then:

A voice pipes from somewhereー maybe the kitchen? "I dunno about that honey, we just-" Dad!

"Please! Just for a while!" Annabeth cuts him off and begs.

She can hear a sigh emit from him "Well, arlright..." There's a pause; most likely Helen shaking her head and laughing lightly. "But don't go too far! We don't know this place that well."

"Thank you!"

It only takes a second before Annabeth is already sliding her sandals on when she gets the ok to go, grabbing her sand castle building bucket and lathering on her sunscreen.

She beams brightly.

A vast blue sky, yellow sun, and glimmering sand. It's all so beautiful. Gorgeous. Alluring- though the seven year old doesn't quite understand what the new word means. She dashes somewhere, anywhere, excited to go see more. Meet more people! Collect sea shells! And it's fun. Fun with peeking under shells looking for crabs, getting her shorts wet from the water, getting tanned in the beating sun.

Annabeth loses track of time at one point or another. All she knows that the collection of shells in her bright red bucket are just so pretty, so why not collect some more?

'Don't go too far,' She can clearly recall her father's voice, 'We don't know this place all that well.'

That was maybe... three hours ago.

Now, the sun isn't hung that high in the sky. It's starting to dip beneath the ocean, red and orange staining the sky. The pale moon isn't visibleー but Annabeth knows that it might come out sooner or later.

Just a few more shells, she thinks, touge sticking from her lips as she struggles to carry the full bucket, Until I go back.

Where is 'back', anyways?

Annabeth doesn't know where she is right now. At all. Save for the patch of palm trees she had rested under for a while, far behind her.

Oh well. Right now, she tries to focus on collecting more shells. Now, where did that blue shell-

"Uh... What're you doing?"

The question comes as a shock to her, making Annabeth jolt slightly. She whips around.

To her left, there's, well... the ocean. To her right: A cluster of palm tress nestled in the sand. She does a full turn. Than another.

"What-" Annabeth starts in confusion, "Who's there?"

"Up here," The voice (slightly extageratted she might add) chides. It comes straight from the-

-The palm trees?

She comes face to face with blinking sea green eyes. Raven hair splays across the kids' forehead, hiding the tips of his eyes. The kids' legs swinging back and forth on one of the branches, palm leaves shaking slightly with him. Annabeth blinks owlishly in response.

"What're you doing up there?" Is all she can blurt out.

"Sitting," He says matter-of-factly. As if Annabeth couldn't already see that. "What are you doing?" The boy parrots, climbing down the wide trunk.

She steps back when he stands in front of her. He looks about her age, if she's correct. "Collecting shells?" Annabeth burries her sandal-clad heel in the sand. She picks up the blue sea shell she's had her eye on.

"Look, this ones-"

"That's mine!" The boy springs forward suddenly, taking the object from her hands. His eyes are wide like saucers. "You found my lucky shell!"

Annabeth falters. "A lucky shell? What's that?" She tilts her head in confusion. To be honest, that's one of the most ridiculous things that she has ever heard. Not that Annabeth would tell that to the person's face. That would be pretty rude.

When he doesn't respond from being too enveloped in the shine of the shell's blue coat, she grumbles.

"That isn't yours!" She says more loudly. It can't be, it can't! Shells don't belong to people; they're natural things! Aren't they? Plus, what even is a lucky shell?

He scoffs. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah!" Annabeth stares fully at the shell. "If it's yours, then prove it."

The boy huffs as he flips the shell over, shoving it right in her face. She has to take another step back to see it properly. More like to see the small letters properly. It's small, black, and messy, but Annabeth can make out the nearly unreadable scribbles.

PERCY . J

"You're Percy?" She looks back at him.

"Mhm!" The boyー Percyー beams. "So yeah. That's my lucky shell. I was looking for it for a while."

Her eyebrow twitches. "Oh..." Annabeth trails off, dissapointed. She wanted that shell. Dang it. "Are you sure?" He nods affirmatively, making her face droop. They both stay silent for a second, letting the sound of crashing against the shore take over.

Percy turns around. "I'm gonna go back to my cabin now."

Annabeth, as if breaking out from a trance, grabs his wrist. "Wait!" She yelps, pouting.

He turns back around quickly with a grumble. "What?

"D-do you..." She lets go of his wrist once she see's the judging look on the boy's face. "Do you know where the cabins are, by any chance?"

It's a weird question out of context, really, and Annabeth isn't sure why she asks him of all people. He probably doesn't know his way around either, not to mention that she doesn't expect him to answer.

It's comes as a surprise to her when he asks: "Which ones?"

Annabeth's lips tug upwards in a hopeful smile. "Uh..." She tries to remember where it is. "The ones with the really tall palm trees beside the shore?"

Percy pauses; his eyes look up into space as if he's looking for an answer from the gods. "Oh!" He looks over behind him, "Where there's this weird blue-roofed cabin to the right?"

"Yeah! That's The one!" She exclaims. Her face lights up with memory, thinking of the exact location.

"Oh," He looks directly at her now, "That's where I'm staying, too."

"Oh." Annabeth repeats.

"Yeah."

"Huh."

The Walk back is... Normal. They bicker back and forth, throwing subtle insults. At one point Annabeth bargains to take the blue sea shell back for three of the pink ones, but Percy refuses. She huffs.

"Where'd you get your lucky shell anyways?" Annabeth asks as her feet pads onto the slightly damp sand.

"My mom," He grins, holding it high above his head. "We found it here last year, and I just kept it! She said that it would be a nice souvenir." Percy says proudly.

She wants to ask more, prod more, but it seems like they're already at their detination. The tall palm trees. The weird blue-roofed cabin. Annabeth looks over to him, as it seems like the last time they'll ever see each other. Percy, however, looks surprised.

"You're my-" He freezes, looking back and forth at the two cabins in front of them. One is Annabeth's. And the other is...

"What?" Annabeth asks. "Something wrong?"

"You're my neighbor!?" Percy gasps, horror striking his face. He takes a disgusted shudder and steps away from the blonde.

"Don't act that disgusted!" She jokingly pushes his shoulderー with a little less than just 'jokingly' in the shove. "But this actually sucks. I don't really like you," Annabeth admits.

"Me neither!" Percy rolls his eyes. "Im going inside!"

She crosses her arms as she looks away. "Me too!"

"Goodnight!"

Annabeth doesn't know howー or whenー it happens, but their friendship blooms sometime along with way.

"Whatever!"

Scratch that. Friendship is too much of a strong word. For now, the two can settle on frenemies.

Plus, their frenemieship doesn't exactly happen umpormpted; it takes the parents to force them together. Aparently, Percy had told his mom about the whole scenario. Whispers come to talk, and there they are, sitting on the steps of Percy's cabin while the two's parents talk inside. Annabeth can hear the laughs coming from inside. It makes her seethe.

"Why'd you tell?" Is all she can mutter.

"My mom asked me where I was," Percy simply says, "So I did!"

"I had to thank you ten times because of that, and now look where we are!" Annabeth glared pointedly. "They're all buddies now. Ew."

He reels. "Shut up."

"No."

"Shut up!"

"I said no!"

The door creaks open, and they both freeze.

"Annabeth!" Frederick calls out, stepping onto the wooden deck. "Oh, it looks like you two have already bonded! How nice," He smiles, looking at the two of them who sit side to side. It looks like they had just had a deep convorsationー except not the one you'd expect. Percy's mom, who Annabeth heard her name was Sally, steps beside him with her own smile.

It's weird. This nice-looking, kind woman who is related to such a loser like Percy? Even being his mom? She can't see the resemblance.

"Aw, you two look like best buds!" Sally pats the two of them on the shoulder, warm smile etched across her face. Annabeth smilies in response, despite her thoughts: She has got to ditch Percy as soon as possible.

"Why don't you two go visit downtown?" She looks over to Percy. His scowl is wiped away once she does it, replaced with a forced grin. "It'd be nice for you two to hang out, wouldn't it?"

No, it would not, Annabeth wants to say. I dislike this dude very much.

But as her life goes, she never gets what she wants.

"Okay!" Percy smiles, standing up. He makes an attempt to leave Annabeth in the dust by walking as fast as he can, his actions being immediately noticed by her. All Sally and Frederick do is confuse it with excitement.

Downtown is a sunshiney place with colourful chalk on the shop walls that line the roadsides. There's a white marble fountain in the middle of the square, and a small grass filed where people play frisbee. Ice cream, pizza, ramen, you name it. The smells make both of their mouths water with hunger. Annabeth looks over to the hotdog stand with wantful eyes.

Percy's stomach grumbles.

"What?" He asks, embarassed, when Annabeth looks over at him. She looks away, rummaging through the pockets of her jean jacket. After pulling out a few green bills, she shuffles her feet.

"Here." Annabeth stuffs two of them in Percy's hands. "Let's go buy something."

He falters. "Wha- Thanks, but why?"

"My dad always tells me to be polite," She says formaly, head held high. "And I'm trying to do it. What? You think I actually like you? Please." Annabeth won't admit it, but she doesn't actually mean it.

Percy frowns. "Whatever."

It's bland as they eat, quietness shared between the two children. Annabeth chews dryly. Percy swallows thickly. They find a spot to sit; a colorful bench in the heart of all the comotion.

"No!" Annabeth groans when her half-eaten ice popsicle falls to the concrete ground. She pouts. "Aw, come on." The biker (the reason she accidentally let it fall) is long gone without as much of a glance.

Percy, on the other hand, eyes the red popsicle. He hasn't eaten his own yetー it being still wrapped up in it's yellow wrapper.

He offers it to her.

"Huh?" She takes it suddenly, eyes slightly shocked. Her mouth waters with hunger. "I-is this for me?" Annabeth asks. She peels the wrapper off begrudgingly, the sticky texture on her fingertips. It's blueberry flavoured. One of her favourites.

"Who else?" Percy rolls his eyes.

Annabeth scoffs. "I thought you were hungry."

"Yeah, but you seem pretty hungry too."

There's two sticks in the treat, meaning that they can split it. She does so, splitting it apart with a crack, and hands it back to him while looking away. "Here. Take this."

"Aw, you like me after all!" He nudges her, smiling widely and instantly popping it in his mouth.

"Its politeness!" Annabeth can manage for the word.

Percy isn't such a loser. And neither is she.

The stars twinkle brightly by the time they head back, cicadas and crickets back again to sing their songs. Percy looks at Annabeth while she enters her cabin. Her stares at her from his own doorway.

"Goodnight." Is all he says.

Annabeth doesn't know howー or whenー it happens, but their friendship blooms sometime along with way.

This time, Annabeth replies properly. "Goodnight."

The next week goes a lot like this: Percy comes over to her room, (Frederick and Helen has already taken a liking to him) beach ball in hand and sunscreen slathered on.

"Let's go swim!" He yanks the blanket from her half-asleep figure with a snicker.

"Leave me alone, doofus!"

She always complains, but goes with him anyways.

Some days it was Annabeth who woke him up. Some days she works up at the crack of dawn just to haul him to the beach where they swam for hours. Those days, she never complains.

But today, Percy accompanies Annabeth at the airport.

"You better write back to me," He crosses his arms and huffs as she gives a lopsided smirk. Her luggage, decorated with patches she had collected, stands at her side. Her Parents chat with Percy's with hugs exchanged and sad smiles. "Or else I'm not your friend anymore."

That's the first time Percy says she's a friend.

Despite that, she remains a steady face. Her heart is racing. "You can write?" Annabeth gasps, a fake look of shock on her face. When the boy gives her a dirty look, she chuckles. "Don't worry. I'm coming back here soon."

"When?" He asks instantly.

"Next year. Maybe longer." She replies, rocking back and forth on her heels. Her feet are replaced with her green sneakers, a change from a week of wearing nothing but sandals. There's a certain sadness lacing her tone.

"That's too long."

"I know."

They seem to be acting tough, possibly for their own sakes, but it all crumbles to the ground when they both tear up. They hug each other, tightly, as if they won't be seeing each other for an eternity. Maybe they will.

"I'll write to you everyday!" Annabeth promises, pulling away. Her eyes are puffy and her nose is running.

"You better!" Percy wipes his nose on his shirt. "And I will too!"

Annabeth can't quite keep the promise of sending letters every day, that being the reason of school and other things, but she and Percy can settle on every week.

It takes both their parents to pull them away from each other when the time finally comes.

Percy's letters always has his signature blue envelope. It's bright in her hands when she opens her mailbox a week after seeing him as she reads the front. Her name is misspelled three times, and the envelope is clumsily sealed. It's exactly what she had imagined. His mom must've written it for him, because the writing is ten times more neater. The words make her smile.

That night, she reads it again.

Annabeth sends her own letters, envelope and papers with owl prints drawn on. Like Percy, her own hand writing is messy. So she has Helen write most of it for her.

Back and forth through the four seasons. They both start to send little trinkets to the other, too: dried up flowers, favourite pens, even some of Percy's favourite candiesー blue Jolly Ranchers, but they seem to taste better when he sends it.

I seriously hate school, Percy writes in a letter one week, Everyone here sucks.

Well, not a few people, but a lot of people do. They're all rude. And suck ups. Even the teachers are like that! They all just act all better than me, just because. I don't really know why.

The next part is written in his own handwriting.

But of course, they're not! I beat them in dodgeball today, but i got a bruise on my cheek when I fell flat on my face. Nothing I can't handle!

Annabeth rolls her eyes at that, pen in hand while she reads the remians of it. She notes that there's a picture attached at the bottom with a obnoxious green paperclip. Taking it off, she stares at it.

Percy beams at her; er, the camera, a noticeable bruise square on his left cheek. A band-aid is stuck onto his forehead. Annabeth can only assume where it's from. For some reason the boy is smiling toothily. He looks exactly like he had been only a while ago, tanned skin and scrawny arms. His uncureable case of bedhead has also somehow stayed intact.

She sends her own picture: A amuture snap taken by her dad, standing in the sun at the park near her house. Her lips pull upwards into a wide, bright smile.

"Say cheese!" Frederick points the lenses to her.

Annabeth beams. "Cheeeese!" She giggles.

Percy doesn't want to admit it, but he'd spent more time than he liked staring at the picture.

Annabeth and Percy are right when they next meet again; though Annabeth likes to say that she's eight and three quarters.

The girl had arrived in the middle of the night while she was still snoring. Like last time, she had woken up in a bedー the same one as of today. Though she can't quite notice. Her body still radiates tiredness, mucsles sore and limbs unmoving.

"Annabeth!" Percy shakes the blonde awake, her hair messy hair shaking back and forth. She groans through her lips.

"Wha-" She flips over, looking at him. "Its- Percy!?" Annabeth jolts upwards, eyes wide and fully awake.

He smirks at her. "Hey." Percy stands up straight now, taking a step back. "Its been a while-"

Annabeth pulls him in for a hug. "i missed you!" She says, hugging him even more tightly. "So much!" Percy, after a second, hugs back with just as much happiness. His face burries in her shoulder.

"Me too," Percy replies, voice muffled. "So much."

It might be a long minute when they finally pull away.

"I-I was just being polite," Annabeth turns away with embarassment. "Don't think too much about it."

"Y-yeah, same."

They both know that they're lying.

After a while, it almost becomes routine. They spend a blissful week together playing on the beach. Both Percy and Annabeth cry their eyeballs out when they have to leave. The rest of the year is spent exchanging letters.

Summer of when they're twelve, Annabeth says something that makes Percy frown immediately.

"We won't be able to come back here for a while," She says, laying on the sand.

"Oh." Percy says. "That's what you always say. "So... You'll be here next year."

She sighs, looking at the waves lapping across the sandy shores. People swim happily in the cool waters, unlike them, who sit under the shade of a tall palm tree.

"...Right?" He repeats slowly, carefully, when she doesn't respond.

"No." Annabeth burries her face in her hands. "We won't be coming next year. Or the year after that."

"What!?" Percy''s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "And why not?"

"Helen, she... You know that the twins will be born soon. And my dad wants to take a break from vacations for a while." She grumbles.

"And that means-"

"We won't be coming back for a very, very long time."

Dread dawns onto Percy like a spotlight.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

Then it truly settles in.

"Oh, no."

The next night is what Percy assumes to be the last night spent with Annabeth in a few years. That sentence makes him sick to the stomach, so he avoids thinking about it.

If he stops thinking about it, will it never happen? If he somehow begs Annabeth's parents, will she come again next year? If Percy, someway, hopes hard enough, will she be here next year, and the next?

His thoughts gnaw at him like rats. Laying awake in his messy bed, chapped lips and ruffled hair.

There's really only one thing that can help him now.

"Hey." Percy manages to sneak into Annabeth's room via window. Her room is chilly. He feels like scolding her for keeping her window unlocked, but then Percy would just sound like his mom. He nudges her softly. "Wake up."

Annabeth, groggy and sleep deprived, opens one of her eyes. "Hm? Oh..." Hse tries to keep her eyes open. "Percy?"

It's a small whisper. Her mouth is dry and her limbs are sore. Annabeth's pillow is dampened; she had just cried only hours prior before she passed out fron exhaustion. Its a bleak memory that A Annabeth cringes upon. She chews her lip.

"C'mon," Percy says, "Let's go to our spot."

Annabeth doesn't put up a arguement. She knows that he wants to spend the most time together as possible, and the feeling is mutual. She feels her own sort of sadness: An icky feeling that leaves her feeling all scummy when she remembers she wont see Percy for a very long time.

So she goes with him, cotton sweater flimsy flip-flops hastily threwn on. Their footsteps make the old wood creak, but thankfully, no one wakes from the noises.

Their 'Spot' is a hill, high above the rising tides. Its where they go every year. Its where they made memories. Its a place that they can't imagine ever staying away from.

The nightly wind is gone this particular night. It only leaves comfortable silence.

"So how long will you be away for?" Percy asks, pulling his knees to his chest. Hus eyes droop down.

Annabeth fiddles with a stick she found on the grassy ground. "I don't wanna say it. Its too long."

But after she hesitates, Annabeth gives in. "...Six years."

"What?"

"Six years," She repeats, more strongly this time, "That's my estimate."

Percy's breath hitches in his throat. Six years? Six years without her?

"That's forever." Percy comes to the horrible conclusion. No, no- there must be somesort of mistake! Annabethwill be here next year, and that's that. "Are you sure?"

Annabeth nods grimly. Her eyes are screwed shut, as if she cant see it, it won't happen. If she cant see, then maybe it'll all be a bad dream.

She's just like him.

They both know its futile to do anything else. To do something, one last thing, one last visit down, one more. Its bitterly cold. Saltwater invades their senses, and to be honestー they're both exhausted. From a week of long playing in the sun. From a lot of things.

For now, each others company is enough. To know that they're there, in person, is enough. Being together is enough.

So they lay there.

Hand in hand, shoulders pressed up together. The moonlight is the only thing helping Annabeth see in the dark, while Percy grips her hand tighter. The stars above... They're bright. Tiny, miniscule, but they're bright and shining. Like yesterday. Today. And forever. He sniffs. The sky is incoming and unchanging. That's how both Percy and Annabeth want it to beー unchanging between them.

The next morning is bland. Annabeth wakes up with a large amount of dread looming over her, like a heavy cloud of muck. From the clock on her nightstand she can read 5:02 AM; a time in which Percy is most likely fast asleep.

That doesn't really matter. They're goodbyes are said, long done, and that's that. Annabeth already had a bittersweet moment with Percy. Why ruin with a tearful goodbye?

It hurts to not say one last goodbye to him.

The airport. Even at such a early time, it still hums with livelyness and people's chattering. Well, you know what they say. The airport never really does stop working. Not for anyone.

If Percy was here now, what would he say? Give a last cocky smirk and throw a snarky insult? Annabeth would just laugh it off and hug him, as per usual, as per every year. It's a shame.

her parents have already entered the airport, leaving Annabeth standing in front of the huge terminal. She lets out a sigh and clutches her luggage closer. Well. this is it for-

"Annabeth!"

Is that- No. It can't be. Annabeth grips the metal handle of her luggage harder. It makes her knuckles turn into a sickly shade of pale, resembling a sheet of paper. He's not here. He's asleep, gone, and I'm imagining things. He can't possibly be-

"Wisegirl!"

When the voice calls out again, Annabeth knows for sure that it's him.

Percy.

The boy instantly engulfs her in a hug. It's warm, soft, familiar. All the qualities Annabeth likes most about him.

Great, she's tearing up.

"Don't forget me." Percy mumbles into her shoulder. "Please don't forget me." His voice is watery and wavering: He's crying. She can feel is tears dampening her sweater-clad shoulder, and all she can think is how she's doing the same.

"Never," Annabeth says, squeezing her eyes shut. "I promise."

Percy wants to say so much. How he woke up through his tiredness. How he biked here, all one hour of it, to find her, and how he couldn't sleep because he needed to hear her voice. Childish or immature as it be, its true.

He pulls away slowly and rummages through his pockets as he sniffs. "Here. Take this."

Annabeth's eyes widen. "You're" She grips it, mouth going dry. His shell, still blue as ever and pristine, tilts in her hands. "You're gonna give me this?"

She knows it's his favourite thing in the world, save for blue cookies and his small whale plushie. He never leaves it unattended, never dirties it, either. Annabeth knows that Percy never lends it to anyone, and keeps it like it's his life's worth. So why is he giving it to her? His eyes are teary and foggy as tears spill from his eyes, but she can't see any regret or remorse on his face. That's means he's giving it to her with no qualms, whatsoeverー But why?

"You better make sure to return it!" Percy sniffles again, wiping his runny nose on his shirt. "I'll be waiting!"

"I will."

Annabeth thinks that's the most she's cried ever.

The years pass like clockwork, because really, it is.

It's happens like any other year. She goes to school, gets good grades and live like any other day. She sends letters to Percy consistently. They're all sent with souvenirs, trinkets, little notes and scraps. It helps in a theraputic way.

Annabeth doesn't really blame her parents for taking a break. She tries to understand. And it's hard. The twins are lovely. Lovely as newborns can get, at least, they're smiley and bright. Matthew and Bobby, that's their names. They don't cry much. Annabeth likes that. They throw food at her sometimes. Annabeth doesn't like that.

Summer thirteen passes slowly. She tries to pass it with friends, but none of them can really compare to Percy.

Summer fourteen Annabeth enters Highschool. She keeps Percy's lucky she'll on her bedside table, stacked upon a cluster of books. She spends that summer inside, reading books about architecture. They can distact her from the dread of missing him.

Summer fifteen and she sends a package to Percy. There's the usual letter, one of her favourite books, and notes for the new math curriculum that they both happen to be on. She knows that he seriously hates reading, but Annabeth doesn't really expect him to read it.

(He spends all night reading it.)

Summer sixteen, and Percy sends the recipe for his mom's famous blue cookies. That makes her smile uncontrollably. Percy never trusts anyone that much to send one of his favorite recipes; much less the one for his most prized blue cookies. Annabeth is sure to send a recipe of her own for her favorite apple pie.

(Percy can't really stop eating it. Somehow, it reminds him if her.)

Summer seventeen Annabeth makes new friends. They make her mind forget about Percy more, but when she's laying awake at night, she can't really stop thinking about him. He's grown. His smile is as warm and bright as ever, and his hair which was once ruffles in a messy way had become endearing. Annabeth thinks it suits him.

She sends her own pictures. Annabeth thinks that she hasn't grown very much compared to Percy, but she's grown in height. Her hair reaches a length's past her shoulders, and her curls have become more tameable. It's easier to style.

Percy can write much better now, too. His writing is somewhat readable. His letters are still cocky and sarcastic as ever, but his words can clearly shows that he misses her. Annabeth does too. He's learned how to surf. Percy promises to teach her when she visits again. Not to mention he got a dogー a huge, massive ball of black fluff named Mrs. O'Leary. Apparently she's a rescue from one of his neighbours. Annabeth has her own dog as well; a lanky Doberman that she calls cerberus. She swears to introduce him to Mrs. o'leary.

(He looks forward to that.)

Still summer seventeen, and Annabeth learns that Percy has gotten close with someone.

She's supportive of him, of course, but Annabeth can't really say that when she frowns at the news. Rachel. That's her name. Rich, red-haired and pretty, she's probably a good fit for him. Annabeth sees her in the pictures he sends. Beach trips together, days spent in each other's company. She tries as hard as she can not to say something about it.

Rachel is pretty. Rachel is kind. She donates to homeless shelters and fundraises to help the rainforest, Rachel is the daughter of some rich buisness owner.

Rachel is everything Annabeth is not.

Laying on her bed that night, she comes to a horrible realization.

Those feelings of jealousy... They’re more than that, aren't they? It's more, so much more, it's the feeling of desire. Wanting. Because after years, Annabeth learns that she likes Percy.

And Percy likes someone else.

Summer eighteen and Annabeth is on the plane to her family’s cabin. She's eighteen years old now; it's been six years.

Six, long years of waiting, six summers spent wasting, six years of exchanging letters. Six years of waiting and longing.

Her leg bounces up and down erratically as the plane nears it's destination, the window passing blinding white clouds. The airport was just as busy as Annabeth remembered. The sights, smells, sounds... It's been a while since she's experienced this. It makes her mind race.

"You excited?" Helen gives a small smile towards her. The twins snore loudly beside her. "I bet you are. It's been a while since you've seen him, right?"

"Mhm," Annabeth hums, grinning to herself. Somehow, she already knows who Helen is talking about. "Six years."

"Hm?"

"Its been six years," She says, leaning her cheek on her palm. "Six years since I've last seen him."

Percy.

Annabeth is eighteen when she falls in love with the beach for the second time.

The cabin looks just like it was before. Dark brown wood, potted plants littering the windowsills, metal and glass chimes hanging from the ceilings. Nostalgia runs through Annabeth's mind.

So, with her hair flying behind her and parents chuckling behind her from the car, she bursts open the doors with laboured breaths. The humidity is at a level so high it gets Annabeth's hair all frizzyー but she doesn't mind one bit. She takes a deep inhale.

Fresh saltwater. Driftwood, the sweet smell of vanilla, the alluring scent of coral.

"Can I go out?" Annabeth practically jumps the whole way to the living room, parents unpacking. She runs her hands on the walls; she knows the place like a book from all the previous years spent there.

Annabeth's heart drops when they shake their heads. "Sorry, sweetie," Frederick sighs. "Could you wait until dinner? The twins would probably follow you everywhere; they're pretty energetic right now."

She frowns. "But-" Annabeth exhales, and her shoulders slump. "...Alright."

As the blonde walks back to her room, she can't help but think: Where even is Percy? At the beach? In his room? It's been a while since she last sent a letterー but Annabeth thought he would be expecting her. Maybe not. Maybe, he's busy spending time with Rachel. Not that she really blames him.

So she lays there, staring at the white ceiling. It's smooth unlike her popcorned ceilings back at her house. Annabeth can imagine what Percy's doing right now; most likely teaching Rachel how to surf, like he wrote in his most previous letter. That was... A month ago, right? She's learned how to surf, too.

Annabeth eats dinner with a small frown on her face.

What's the point? She thinks to herself, shoving the plate of noodles in her mouth. She slurps it up. What's the point in seeing him, anyways?

Well, let's see. One: I haven't seen him in six years. That's true. Annabeth's heart aches to see him again, but she can't really bring up the courage to see him.

Two: I have to return his lucky sea shell. She thinks of the shell that stands on her bedside table. It's coat is blue and chipped at that point from all the years.

Three: I really, really want to see him again. Annabeth agrees to herself to that, but there's something lacking. Something that's stopping her from seeing him.

What if Percy doesn't want to see me?

It's stupid, sure, after everything they went through, why would Percy not want to see her? The airport visit from six years ago was enough to proove her wrong, but... The doubt still lingers on Annabeth's head. Rachel was probably fine. She doesn't even know the girl for goodness sakeー why would Annabeth ever hate her in any way?

So, stepping out of the cabin with a determined look, she starts off to find Percy.

The cabin next to hers has no occupants. There's people living in there of course, the light inside gives it away. But there's none inside.

Okay. Next, the beach. The sure is setting, so only a few last minute stragglers are there. The waves are just as beautiful as Annabeth imagined. She chews on her bottom lip, where could he be? Downtown. The ice cream shop. Even the boardwalk. Annabeth has no luck in finding the raven haired boy.

Well, desperate times call for desperate measures.

She walks up to their spot.

It's like a walk to memory lane, really, the trees stretch even farther and the grass is way outgrown. The old log that she and Percy used to sit on is now covered with moss and growing mushrooms. Annabeth smiles to herself. It's been a while.

Have those bags always been here? She thinks to herself. She eyes the bags: Two of them, one black and one a vibrant splash of colors. They must belong to someone else.

When Annabeth sees a familiar figure, she practically beams, because holy shit, it's Percy!

His shoulders are broader than she remembered. His hair is gorgeously fluffy and volumous, and his voice is more richer than Annabeth thought. But, wait- why is he talking to himself?

"Seaweed br-"

That when Annabeth sees her.

A head of red hair sits beside him, laughing to spend joke of his. Or at least that's what Annabeth thinks is happening. Oh, her face falls. That must be Rachel. She fit the description she has had in her head for a while now: Pretty. Laid back.

Annabeth thought their spot was a spot for themー a spot where their memories were made, a spot where Percy introduced her to, a spot where only Annabeth knew.

Her arm slowly drops to her side when Rachel pecks him on the cheek.

Walking back, she thinks she's a fool. How could she be the only person who knew of that place? Such an idiot! Of course Percy would find someone else, like someone else, kiss someone else. Annabeth can't blame him. She can't blame Rachel, or anyone else, because how could she?

That night, Annabeth can't fall asleep.

(Percy can't either, because he can't stop thinking about Annabeth and how he thinks he saw her back there.)

#WHY DIDWRITING THIS TAKE SO LONG #BECAUSE I HAVE TOO MUCH WIPS THATS WHY #i hate myself #percabeth #annabeth Chase #percy jackson #percabeth fluff #percabeth fic #percabeth au #percabeth angst #chb #camp jupiter #the seven #camp half blood #annabeth #percy #rick Riordan #percabeth oneshot

63 notes · View notes

liibrii · 3 years

Text

fem!Miya!Reader & Miya family

Part of the Third Miya Series

Synopsis: Three is a weird number. It's only two units bigger than one and only a unit more than two and yet it seems to be so much more, especially when the three in question are toddlers needed to be dressed for kindergarten.

wc: 2.1k

a/n: baby Miyas, the ultimate serotonin providers 🙃 if you wanna be tagged in future chapters let me know, and as always feedback is greatly appreciated!

Mrs Miya has always trusted her gut feeling and in that moment it was telling her the bathroom was down the corridor, last door on the left, and, just as Mr Miya had told her that morning, eating leftover curry for breakfast was a dreadful idea.

Doctor repeats her words and Mrs Miya's neck becomes completely stiff. If it wouldn't she'd perhaps be able to look at her husband whose face turned ashen pale. “Triplets?“

Well, this will take buy one get one for free jokes on a whole new level.

Doctor's words are just buzzing and the soon to be Miya parents nod and smile and nod and hold on each others' hand as if there's no tomorrow. They're silent on the way out.

Mr Miya turns to his wife. “Do they even sell strollers for three kids?”

Three is a weird number. It's only two units bigger than one and only a unit more than two and yet it seems to be so much more, especially when the three in question are toddlers needed to be dressed for daycare.

You all wear the same colours because Atsumu would throw a tantrum if your jumper wasn't the same colour as his and you would throw a tantrum when yours was a different colour than Osamu's, who in turn would throw a tantrum because his jumper was now the same colour as Atsumu's.

Mrs Miya had read advices that one should always dress their twins (or, in this case, triplets) differently as it is good for their personality development; which is all well and good and a great advice, except that whoever wrote it forgot to take into account that two and a half out of her three children saw being dressed differently as their siblings as a horrific violation of their toddler rights.

Your parents tell themselves one day you'll grow out of this phase, but till then mom stitches little numbers one, two, and three on the edges of your clothes. She did start stitching your names, but with only two pairs of hands in the house and three little sprouts in constant need of attention there was never enough time to finish them.

“One,“ says Mr Miya and Atsumu raises his hands.

“Ichi!“ he proudly chimes.

“Two,“ Mr Miya grabs you before you'd crawl out of the reach of his arms.

“Ni!“ like his brother Osamu too raises his chubby fists, but only halfway.

“And three!”

“San!“ You hug your dad's neck, perhaps hoping that will get you out of having to wear socks.

And heaven forbid they ever messed up which jumper belonged to whom. It was beyond your parents' wisdom how you could tell the number stitched on the edge was not the same they said when counting your heads, but you could.

“Must be yer superpower,“ jokes Mr Miya while changing your sweater that has the wrong number on the edge. He barely pulls it off when Atsumu's chubby hands already grab it and begin pulling it over his head. He screams when his father offers to help, pouting even if he's completely lost between the left sleeve and the opening for the head.

“Alright buddy,“ muses Mr Miya and turns his attention to Osamu who already pulled his socks off so, naturally, now you've mysteriously lost one of your socks too. Mr Miya sighs. Maybe it's time to let his boss know he's going to be late.

Three is an enormous number, when the three in question are a feverish toddler in your arms and two more running around doctor's office. Perhaps it was time to ask the daycare to put you three into different groups. That will cause an outrage, oh ever since the 'One child, one pillow' incident Mrs Miya is well aware of that. But then again, better that than all of you throwing a tantrum when only one got to leave the daycare early.

“One, two, three,“ she counts your heads under her breath, then hurries over to where you just picked up a very interesting small stone that probably fell from the soles of someone's shoes, “San! I mean y/n, sweetie, that's a stone. See, it's rough and cold.“ You whine when she takes the treasure from you but still listen closely to her words that spark Atsumu's interest too, and he trots closer to see what is happening. Thankfully feverish Osamu has fallen asleep in her arms. Really, the last thing she needs is his firm conviction the stone is just greyish candy. Mrs Miya still lets Atsumu take the stone in his hands. “No,“ she grabs his hand when he lifts it towards his mouth that is already curving into a grimace. “Hey, hey, no need to cry over it sweetie. Yer gonna wake up yer brother and he needs sleep right now.“

“Is he sick?” your tiny voice chimes in. Mrs Miya nods. “Because he ate melon seeds,“ you nod with all the wisdom of a 3 year old. “He's growin' melons in his tum-tum,“ you tell Atsumu whose wide eyes blink twice before he bursts into tears.

“One, two, three,“ Mrs Miya counts your heads while you play around the house. If you hide from her sight sooner or later screaming and crying alerts her something happened. A moment later Mr Miya returns to the living room with a very much red faced and screaming Atsumu in his arms.

“What happened?“ she asks, crouching down to console you, also crying because there's no way you'd let your brother scream his lungs out by himself.

“Ah the usual,“ he places the scissors on the counter, “wouldn't let him shred his shirt. Osamu, no!“ He quickly grabs his other son who also starts crying, shocked that his own father would take the lost sock from him before he got the chance to find out how it tastes.

Ah, just another Sunday.

The good thing about three children running around is they're never lonely. There are always games to play, fights to win, faces to colour. Most of the days all of you exhaust yours (sometimes apparently infinite) supplies of energy by the time evening falls. Mr Miya puts you to bed (one bed, because trying to make you sleep in separate cribs is apparently a disgusting violation of Toddler convention) before he collapses beside his wife.

“Asleep?“ she asks.

Mr Miya hums. “For now.“

The moment they turn the lights off slide door across the hallway open. Light steps cross the dangerous waters of the dark hallway, enter the bedroom and climb over Mr Miya to the safe haven between the parents.

“Bad dreams?“ asks Mrs Miya. In response Osamu sniffles and snuggles closer. Not a minute passes when two more pairs of legs pass through the darkness of the hallway and climb to be beside their brother. You shriek when Atsumu pushes his cold feet on your back, but dad's stern word makes you stop. A few moments later you're all asleep.

“One, two, three,“ sleepily mumbles Mrs Miya, patting each of your heads.

“Four,“ says Mr Miya and his wife giggles.

Three is the number of band-aid packages your parents buy per month. Ever since you've grown for about a chopstick taller, well you only grew for about three thirds of a chopstick because nature thought it would be funny if you got outgrown by your brothers at the tender age of 5, it turned out the tall tree in the park could in fact be climbed, if you climbed on someone's shoulders and then pull them on the lowest branch. Sadly the branches aren't big fans of being climbed on but no amount of scratches and falls could stop you from trying.

“A champignon never stops tryin'!“ proclaims Atsumu after the failed attempt that left bark in his hair and Osamu laughing on the branch.

“What's a champignon?“ you ask.

“It's the person who's the best! It's what I'll be one day!“

Osamu snorts, firmly grabbing on the thin branch he's sitting on. “Champignon's a mushroom.“

“No it ain't!“

A mushroom, you make a little note in your memory, because no matter how much Atsumu protests you're more inclined to believe Osamu when it comes to mushrooms.

Your heads turn when you hear mom calling and waving, waiting for Osamu to climb down before running over to her.

“I win!“ announces Atsumu despite Osamu reaching her first.

“Why, because yer a champignon?“

“Are we all here?“ loudly asks Mr Miya before his boys could jump into each other's hair, “identify yerselves!“

“One!“ calls Atsumu.

“Two!“ calls Osamu, louder.

“Three!“ you call and jump, because being louder than them was never an option.

Four heads turn to Mrs Miya. “Mom,“ she raises her hand.

“Excellent!“ proclaims Mr Miya as three small voices cheer. “Then we can get goin'!“

“Where to?“ you ask.

Mr Miya picks up a stick and starts drawing lines in the sand covering the path. “It's a secret but maybe ya can guess, we'll go down this path-“

“A treasure hunt!”

“Almost. At the fountain we'll turn left, and what lies down the fountain path?“

“Pigeons?“ you try guessing.

Osamu bumps his fist on the open palm. “Ice cream stand!“

Mr Miya nods.

“Last one there's a loser!“ shouts Atsumu who starts running before even finishing the sentence. Osamu immediately follows, both ignoring your shouts to wait up.

Three is a funny number. It only works when the two and one have the third , because otherwise it's just one and two. Like a clover that got munched on by a picky rabbit that tried a leaf and then decided it doesn't fit its taste.

Volleyball sort of became the rabbit munching on the clover. One day teachers simply decided you're not allowed to play on the same team as your brothers anymore. And no amount of crying, screaming and sulking could convince the rabbit to give the leaf back.

“Maybe we can sneak ya in,“ suggests Atsumu one night, “all ya hafta do is wear our clothes. No one will know!“

So you try that and funnily enough, people do notice when one and two together make a three, and what surprises children even more is that parents also notice when they return late from school because they had to stay in detention. And as if cleaning the school hallways for a month wasn't enough, now they have to clean the house too.

It is however enough to discourage you from trying to sneak into practice again, so you stick with only coming to games and waiting for their practice to end so you can walk home together. From time to time some of their teammates stop to say hello or to complain to you about their shenanigans, but that's knowledge you hold to yourself, since you never knew when blackmail material might come in handy.

It's only when Osamu teases they get to go to a volleyball workshop and you don't that you get envious.

“It sounds stupid anyway,“ you try pretending you couldn't care less.

“It would be perfect for ya then,“ Osamu shots back and sprints away as you dive after him.

Maybe you are just a teensy bit envious, still as long as you get to play with them when they are home it's not that bad. After returning from their workshops you don't even let them take their shoes off before dragging them to the volleyball net dad set up in the garden. You stand where you always stand, by the net so you can throw balls for them to hit over.

Atsumu pushes you away. “No, this is my position now. I wanna be a setter.“

You don' mind, and throw the ball towards Atsumu who sends it back into a bit of an awkward place and you end up not even hitting it.

Osamu bursts into laughter. “Ya suck.“ He jumps to avoid the kick aimed at his knee. “We play with good players now so yer gonna hafta practice more. There was this tall player with a cool name! Right, Tsumu?“

“Tsumu?“ you repeat.

“Tsumu and Samu. It's our names but they sound way cooler now!“ proudly declares Atsumu.

Your eyes widen in admiration. “I want that too! What should I call myself?“

“Yer always copyin' us,“ complains Osamu but he gets ignored as the first name Atsumu suggests earns him a ball to the face.

“Oh I know!“ You bump your fist on your open palm. “I'll be San!“

Atsumu thinks it over with the same expression Osamu has when trying to decide which udon toppings to order. “San,... Y/n... San,... It sounds so cool! Whaddaja think Samu?“

Osamu shrugs. “San, let me show ya how to spike the ball properly.“

tag list: @espressons @trashy-simp @nachotrash

#miya twins #miya twins x sibling reader #miya atsumu #miya osamu #miya atsumu x reader #hqcorenet #miya osamu x reader #miya family #hq #haikyuu #haikyuu x platonic reader #inarizaki #inarizaki x platonic reader #the third miya #libri scribbles #also big thanks to tumblr for destroying the quality of the banner -.-

205 notes · View notes

silverisbestboy · 4 years

Text

Hedgies x Child!Reader

Requested by anonymous: I really liked your Shadow x child reader. Can I please have some more headcanons about the main three Hedgehogs with a human child? Thank you in advance!

Sonic:

When Amy asked him to get some flour for a recipe she was trying to make, Sonic zipped over to the nearest supermarket

What he was not expecting to find however, was a little human child sobbing in the middle of the toy aisle

"Hey, what's the matter lil guy?"

With wide, teary eyes, you explained to the blue hedgehog that you lost your mommy when you stopped to look at a toy and now you couldn't find her (bruh, that ever happen to y'all? It happened to me so often that I came up with a plan on how I was gonna survive in the grocery store)

"Well don't worry little fella, we're gonna find her, promise."

Next thing you know, you're in the mobians arms and zooming around the market in search of your mother

With the help of Sonic's speed, you end up finding her in no time, talking to a police officer near the front entrance about her missing child

"This your kid ma'am?"

Your mother is obviously very greatful to the young hedgehog and even offers to pay him for helping reunite the two of you

Of course, he declines though

He meets you again when taking a walk through a park

"Hey kid, how ya holding up?"

"Mister! I'm sorry, I never got your name."

"Not a problem kiddo. I'm Sonic."

"Mister Sonic! Do you want to get ice cream with us? Since you helped me find my mommy?"

"Uh, if it's okay with your mom then sure!"

Of course she agrees and little you grasps Sonic's hand to tug him towards a nearby ice cream stand

"Hey, slow down kid!... Wow, can't believe I just said that."

You happily eat your ice cream as Sonic chatters on about his past adventures to you

Meanwhile, Sonic's ice cream has melted to the ground vause he just won't stop talking long enough to eat any

He loves having such an attentive audience and you love hearing his regales of excitement

As the sun starts to dip below the ground, your mother has you say goodbye to your new friend

As Sonic dashes off in the opposite direction, he can't help thinking back to your happy giggles as you held your ice cream cone

He hopes to see you again soon

Shadow:

Shadow doesn't particularly like you at first

One day, he's standing under the shade of a large willow tree overlooking a small pond

He's so lost in his thoughts, he doesn't hear the crunching of grass under little sneakers

"Excuse me, mister. You're in my spot!"

He opens one eye to glance in your direction and huffs in annoyance

"I don't see your name on it."

"Yeah-huh! It's right there, see?"

Sure enough, Shadow turns his head to see two initials sloppily carved into the bark of the willow's trunk

Rolling his eyes, Shadow opted to ignore your presence and stared out over the water

"So are you gunna move, or what?"

Shadow's ear twitched but he made no move to respond

"Fine, you can stay, but don't think about making this a regular occurrence!"

"Big words for such a little girl."

He cocks his brow at you tauntingly and you puff your chest out in turn

"I make all A's in my English class." You snap back at him

Shadow smirks at your sassy tone and goes back to staring at the pond

You sit quietly at the base of the willow tree for a few minutes before taking out a picture book from your backpack

You start reading out loud and Shadiw growls in irritation, doing his best to block out your voice

But he can't help but listen in as you slowly pronounce each word shown on the little book and gets the urge to correct you every time you stumble or pause on a word

"I look up at the ... bri...br..."

"Brightest."

You look up to see Shadow now standing over you, arms crossed

"It's pronounced brightest."

You smile a toothy grin at him and continue your book

"I look up at the brightest star..."

It goes on like that for nearly an hour as you pull book after book from you little backpack with Shadow glancing down at you every time you a mistake and then gently correcting you

It soon starts getting dark and you say your goodbyes to the black and red hedgehog before dashing off towards your house

Shadow doesn't respond, but watches you leave before smiling softly at your fading figure

He definitely was going to make this a regular occurence

Silver

Silver decides to enjoy the beauty and nature of Sonic's timeline by taking a hike through a national park

He's taking in the breathtaking scenery of the canyons when he suddenly hears a terrified scream

Now completely alert, Silver races over to the sound to investigate

He's confused to find no one around, surrounded on all sides by trees save for a steep drop-off overlooking the canyons

He hears a strained "Help!" and carefully looks over the edge of the cliff to see a little human girl clinging tightly to a tree root jutting out from the rock

"Don't worry, I'll help you!" He reassures before focusing on your small body

A soft cyan glow surrounds you and you frip the root tight

You let out another shriek at the deeling of being lifted in the air, but your hold on the root remained firm

"Sweetie, you have to let go of the branch."

"No, I'll fall!" You cry out fearfully

"I'm not gonna let you fall, I promise. But you need to let go."

You finally open your eyes, which you had squeezed tightly shut before, and stared up inti Silver's golden eyes

He smiles at you assuredly, his hands glowing a soft blue

You reluctantly loosened your grip and feel yourself being lifted higher

You slowly release the tree root and steadily rise in the air until your feet can finally touch the ground

The flow dissipates from your body and you run over to tackle the white hedgehog in a hug

He laughs and returns the gesture gingerly, patting your back as you sobbed into his chest fur

You eventually let go of him

"You saved me. Thank you so much."

"Heh, it was nothing."

He walks you over to a nearby help station where a pair of worried parents are frantically asking for you

He bids you farewell and goes off to continue his hike, but not before glancing back to see you smiling widely up at your parents, skipping along the path

He smiles and turns away

'What a cute kid'

#sonic headcanons #shadow the hedgehog #silver the hedgehog #sonic the hedgehog x reader #shadow the hedgehog x reader #silver the hedgehog x reader #child!reader

554 notes · View notes

mamadoe · 2 years

Text

🍁 The Forgotten Sister - Chapter 2

Althea's dinner with her father takes a turn she doesn't expect.

~~~

Complete Masterlist

Also on AO3

Warning || human trafficking; emotional damage; familial discourse; adult themes

Word Count || 5335

~~~

Down, and down, and down we step, my feet screaming in my shoes. I hold my skirt in one hand, the other ghosting the wall, helping me maintain my balance as we make our way down. My father wasn't kidding when he said he would put me in the tallest tower of the castle once I came of age.

Galena follows behind me, holding the back of my skirt, the dinner basket looped around her arm. We descend in unspoken silence; the only sounds are our shoes on the stone steps and the whispers of our skirts swishing in unison.

How long had I been in the tower? It takes a moment for me to remember that I have lived up here for well over a hundred years, but the exact amount of time escapes me as I focus on my steps. None of my brothers had to deal with such treatment, not even Lucien, who was our father's second least favorite child who just so happens to be the second youngest as well. Cynically, I realized long ago that I am number one in one thing - our father despises me the most, and if it were up to him, he probably would have drowned me at birth to avoid ever being associated with having a daughter after having seven sons. At least that was one thing Lucien had above me, but to be honest, it wasn't much. Beron hates him, too.

Lucien's face flashes through my mind, the few memories I recall of him being either torturous or tender. His eyes, one his natural russet to match our mother's and the other a mechanical piece which replaced the one he lost far before I was born, always intrigued me. Our eyes don't match the rest of the boys'. Out of all the family, though, aside from your mother, he was the only one to look at me with kindness. I wonder if that's because my existence took Beron's vengeful wrath off him and in turn that let him breathe. I think maybe he appreciated that heat being removed, which is fair, even if it meant I had to now take the brunt of our father's distaste. Lucien always seemed to give me an olive branch when we were able to see each other. The thought of him makes my heart ache slightly. I haven't thought of him or any of my brothers for who knows how long.

From the day of my birth, I had been separated from them almost completely, only seeing them from a distance during events which were held in the large, overly decorated ballroom, crammed full of guests and socialites, the chorus of music and conversations mingling into one. Words were shared only briefly between my brothers and me when the time would allow, which would be never if our father had anything to say about it. Despite not knowing much about one another aside that we all existed in completely different circles, it was indisputable - we were a matching set, taking after your mother with her red hair. Together we are the heirs of the Vanserra line, but only one would replace High Lord Beron upon his death. Who that would be hasn't been decided yet, but my best bet is one of my three oldest brothers. They have always been vying for our father's approval, and sometimes it got vicious, even cutthroat amongst the three. Still, there is time left for that to be decided, so until then, that competitive nature will only continue.

"Ah, better hurry, miss!" a high-pitched female's voice calls from below, snapping me back. "You don't want to be late!" I recognize the voice as another of the handmaidens, and I soon see her standing at the bottom of the stairs, ringing her hands together nervously. She is a newer member of the castle staff, a nervous mouse compared to many of the other servants who had already figured out their pecking order and how things are run here. I recognize her face but can't recall her name since she hasn't been assigned to be one of my direct handmaidens yet.

"I'm coming, I'm coming, hold on! I can only walk so fast in this ugly thing," I call to her and gesture to the billowing gown and tiny shoes as I speed up my steps, Galena following close behind. Within moments, the three of us meet at the bottom of the stairs, and the unnamed maiden bows in respect.

"How are things?" Galena whispers as she straightens out my skirts.

"Lord Beron is already being difficult. What do you think?" the nervous girl whispers in return, her voice tinged with nervousness. "They keep raising their voices." Ah, where her nervousness stems from. That's fair; my father's voice has the ability to boom over any crowd if he wishes, especially when he's angry. Just the thought of him directing that tone at me makes my stomach do a flip.

"Fantastic," I say sarcastically in the same whisper tone. This is my first time out of my room in what feels like an eternity, and I can already feel the tension across my skin from just thinking about how he will scold me for doing something that distastes him at the dinner table. In Beron's case, it is never if, but when.

"Come, come quickly," the mouse girl beckons and leads Galena and me down an adjacent hall, through an archway, down another fae-light lit hall to double doors which open to yet another hall that snakes around behind the dining hall. It is meant only for servants to be able to dart around behind the scenes, but here I am, taking it to have dinner with my father. I can already hear multiple men's voices echoing off the walls, making your stomach flip into knots. So we have guests, I think as I try to process what that means for me. Some voices I recognize; some I don't. I steady my nerves with a deep breath but can only breathe so deep because of how constrained I feel in this slightly-too-small gown and its accompanying corset, but I try to not think about it too much as I approach the main entrance to the dining hall.

Voices are bouncing back and forth off the stone walls, words finally starting to be clear enough for me to understand. A chortle here, a laugh there, casual conversation carrying between, over, and through each other. However, a few stand out above the rest - my father's, my oldest brother Eris', and a male voice I don't recognize. Galena's light touch on my shoulder gets my attention, and when I turn to her I realize the mouse girl has already scurried away. She gives me a nod of assurance coupled with her gentle smile, which grounds me, before she steps away to return to her other duties. With another pathetic attempt of a deep breath, I take the final steps to stand in the arched entrance of the well-lit, extravagantly decorated dining hall.

"Ah, but that's where you're wrong. If we aren't prepared, we are set up for failure," the unknown male's voice speaks clear as a bell over the rest of the chatter as I stand there in the archway. No one has noticed my presence yet, so I take the time to analyze the table and all who sit before it. Dinner hasn't been served yet, so I'm not technically late, but I can tell I am the last to arrive. Great, I think, I'll hear about that once I’m alone with him afterward to get the rundown about how much of a failure I am. Brushing my thoughts from the forefront of my mind, my eyes quickly make their way across the room. The long, wooden table is laden with goblets from which to drink and empty plates awaiting the meal to arrive. Before each table setting sits various males, all very different looking but undoubtedly high fae, and the occasional female is sitting next to whom I assume is her partner or lord. As my gaze glides from one face to the next, I realize I don't recognize any of them, which isn’t a huge surprise since I don’t directly interact with most people from beyond the courtyard walls. It's only once I focus near the head of the table that I see my gaggle of brothers and their vibrant hair, which makes them stand out against the array of black, brown, and white hair of the crowd. Then at the head of the table sits our bastard of a father. He's sitting, looking somewhat disinterested yet exasperated from the conversation, and I realize the unknown male isn’t speaking with my father but with Eris. A quick glance tells me everything - Eris is sitting to our father's right, leaning into the conversation from across the table, his short hair groomed back, his eyes intense as he maintains eye contact. It's now I see this unknown male is sitting to our father's left, usually where our mother would sit. I shouldn't be surprised - like Galena warned before, she isn't present. Still, her absence sends an unnerving feeling down into my belly. Eris opens his mouth to respond to the unknown male, but High Lord Beron speaks over his son, quickly hushing him into silence.

"Regardless, this isn't what we need to discuss right now," High Lord Beron draws the attention of the table guests to him. His voice raises as his gaze returns mine from the hall entrance. "Come, Althea, sit," he commands as the guests hush down and turn to look at me. I can feel their eyes, scrutinizing and analytical as I make my way along the table to the empty spot next to my second youngest brother. Lucien isn't here, I realize, and there isn't an empty chair for him across from me as it usually is when we sit for these political dinners. He must not be in the castle anymore, a reality that makes my heart ache. A pity really, he was the only one I really got the chance to talk to personally. In the same breath, I wouldn't wish our father's fury on anyone, and if Lucien's happier where he is, I am glad for him. I wonder if under different circumstances we would have been closer, if our father hadn't gotten in the way of us kindling that siblingship.

"I apologize for the delay, my Lord," I speak formally as I take my seat and adjust the skirts of my gown. "Please, don't stop your discussion because of me." I return my eyes to his gaze to gauge whether my formalities have gotten me anywhere, and it hasn't. His almost distasteful look down his nose from the head of the table doesn't change and bores into my face. If looks could kill, I would have been dead long ago.

"That isn't the concern right now," he dismisses me in an instant as he turns his attention back to the unknown male, so close he can reach out and touch him. Still, I find it really odd for him to be sitting amongst our family instead of at the other end of the table with the rest of the guests. Who is he to earn that place? "We will discuss these matters another time," Beron again affirms, signaling the end of what sounded like a discussion of war tactics, leaving the subject of conversation open.

"Ah, well then, Eris, you will have to show me your study sometime. I'd love to see it." With that, the unknown male relaxes back in his seat. Eris, too, gets the hint and seems to drop it, lifting his goblet to his lips. Casual chatter amongst the remaining guests picks back up, and I'm left in my own little bubble, no one acknowledging my existence except for the other females at the table. Their gazes trail over me, raking over my exposed skin and analyzing my facial features, making me suddenly very self-conscious of the fact that my gown isn't the right size, squeezing in all the wrong places. I feel smothered, and my chest feels like it is tightening around my heart. I try to breathe through my nose and out through my mouth discreetly, but the heat of embarrassment as they too also dismiss me rises under my skin, making me feel hot. This isn't the first time I've been to a dinner like this, I remind myself. The males will talk about boring political tactics and discuss communications with the other courts, dinner will be had before the males all leave to go drink, and the females will start banter over their personal lives. At least, that's what I expect, but that's not what happens.

"Um, Althea," the voice of my brother next to me along with the small nudge he gives my arm draws my attention, and I realize the unknown male has been talking to me, but I didn't hear a single word he said. This is the first time I actually take note of what he looks like. His features are strong and stand out with his darker skin against his long pale hair, which is almost white but not quite. I have seen similar hair on the fae from the Winter Court when I was just a child, but I don't think he hails from there. His clothes don't give away any specific region either with their simple cut and coloring. Maybe a lord’s squire? I’m not sure. His eyes meet mine, and I find they are hazel. His brow raises slightly as if to ask from across the table if everything is alright.

"Ah, sorry, I was lost in thought. What was that?" I manage to return as I compose myself. He responds with a small smile and a nod.

"It's all right. I was asking how you are feeling. You look pale, at least more pale than you were when you first arrived," he says with a softness that eases some tension in my chest. "I'm Farren, from the Dawn Court." Suddenly the simplicity of his clothing makes sense; the Dawn Court is known for its practical fashion while also being the epicenter for our technological advancement as a country, and most fae who have an interest of the tinkering kind migrate there to find work.

"Oh, yes, I'm alright," I respond with some brightness in my tone to feign that all is well, though I feel like my stomach is still in knots. The last thing I need is for my father to think I'm vying for this male's attention by being ill. Farren's eyes hold mine as if he knows I'm lying, but he doesn't press. His slight nod of understanding dismisses the subject, and he turns to continue speaking with my father. I take a breath, realizing everyone else is minding their own business now, eyes no longer scanning my every move. How long will this dinner go on for, I wonder. It already feels like time is trudging by, and my mind drifts as I already start fantasizing about my bath that will be waiting for me once I return to my room.

Before too long, dinner is being served, and I see Galena and the mouse maid bustling around, working quickly alongside the other servants to meet Beron's high standards. The meal goes over without any snags, but I can feel Beron's piercing eyes on me as I eat. I dare not make eye contact with him. Conversation ebbs and flows, but for the most part I remain silent, keeping my ears alert as my focus bounces from one conversation to the next. That's when something piques my interest.

"Just look at her," one of the females down the table whispers to her partner, thinking she's being quiet. Because of Galena, my ears are used to listening for whispers, though, and I make out the words just fine. "She would be perfect." With my head tilted down slightly as if to focus on dinner, I glance up between my lashes to catch her sliding her hand onto his lap. His eyes are meeting hers, and I quickly realize she's sneaking a touch of him under the table. A hot flush meets my cheeks as his eyes slide from his partner to me, and I quickly avert my eyes. It's now that I'm aware of the faint smell of arousal in the air. How long had it been lingering before I noticed? Another conversation lifts above the others.

"Imagine having her in our court, what that would mean for us ," a couple of males a few chairs down from me whisper to each other between bites. I become more aware of my cleavage being on display, and the heat rises to the tips of my ears, turning them red. Cauldron boil me, what is going on here?

"That red hair, imagine the babes she could bear..." a sentence trails off into nothing as a knowing look is passed between a group at the other end of the table. Oh my Gods...

"Althea." Lord Beron, the son of a bitch, calls to me, and my anger immediately ignites when I make eye contact with him. He sees the puzzle pieces clicking together in my mind, my rage etching my features. It becomes clear that's exactly what is happening when he nods slightly, as if reading my mind and confirming my worst fears. These fae are here to barter for my hand. Do they all know that, I think as I glance between my brothers, all who seem disinterested, picking at what's left on their plates. They are here more as a formality at this point. What do they care - they don't know me aside from the fact that we share blood. My gaze passes down the table once more as the guests continue to discuss amongst themselves what my hand, my body, and my position in their courts would mean for themselves. It dawns on me that none of them are high lords, but they hail from all over Prythian based on their looks and attire. I would be a status symbol, a piece in their games, a shiny trophy good enough for lower lords but below the belt for someone like a High Lord or his heirs. The lone daughter of the Autumn Court gets passed off to whoever in the Cauldron buys me. The words burn as if seering themselves into the fabric of my being.

I slowly sit back in my uncomfortable chair, taking it all in. My gown feels like it's constricting me thoroughly, my shoes squeezing my toes, my scalp aching as if my hair is done up too tight even though Galena took care to keep it as loose as possible. The pearls she had so carefully secured around my neck feel like they are winding around and around my throat, tightening and limiting my breath. The whispers amongst the guests begin to overwhelm me, swarming and assaulting my mind. All I can think is that I want to stand, to flee, to run as fast as my legs can carry me in this Gods-forsaken dress and never look back. I want to kick off these blasted shoes and fly down the halls so fast that I lose sight of my father, my brothers, the guests, the maids, everyone within the confines of this stone castle turned prison. I want to feel the stone beneath my feet dig in and cut into my tender skin as I find my way to a back exit, flee across the courtyard grounds until the stone turns to dirt beneath my feet, and I can run through the trees.

But I can't.

I am locked under my father's punitive gaze with nowhere to go. No one is in my corner to save me. Even Galena, who is a dear friend, can't do anything to help from her position as a handmaiden. I am alone. My mind is buzzing as I swim through swirling, cloudy thoughts, trying to find something, anything to say to counter this reality. What precisely would my life be in another court? Could it be better than my life here? Undoubtedly - at least I wouldn’t be under Father’s shoe anymore. But on the other hand, my choice has been taken away, making no matter where I go a prison. No matter what the cage looks like, it will still be a cage, and your choice in the matter has been burned to ash.

"Where is mother?" I barely let out a whisper to my brother seated beside me. He tenses slightly and shifts uncomfortably in his seat. I wait a moment before turning my head slightly to address him again, my tone firm. "Where is she?" He can't even look at me. My eyes bore holes in the side of his face. Out of anyone, she would be the only one who could say anything against this and save me from this fate.

"Althea." Beron repeats, and this time his tone is exasperated as if he’s tired of my pushback. His voice lifts up above the chatter at the other end of the table, causing them to quiet and turn to him once more. "Althea is the youngest of my children," he announces, level-headed and stern. His piercing eyes stare unwavering down his nose at me. I feel like I'm going to lose whatever dinner I managed to eat at that very moment.

"Where is mother, Lord Beron?" I ask him directly, this time anger tinging my tone, no longer concerning myself with how I come across. My hands tighten on the arm rests of my formal dining chair. I feel the guest to my right shift away nervously as if I might turn and bite him like a feral animal.

"Althea, hush." Beron's tone bellows through me, but I refuse to back down; not this time, not about this.

"Where is she?" I raise your voice, slight panic tinged with desperation dripping off my words. Farren in my peripheral vision looks alarmed and glances between me and Father, who is refusing to back down either, so we continue our stare off. The intensity of my anger and feelings of betrayal are palpable in the air. However, I can't say this revelation is a surprise. I knew one day he would throw me to whoever would take me to get me out of his court, but not like this, never like this.

"Althea, please," Eris' cool voice from beside Beron strikes my ears, making me swivel around our brothers dividing us only for a moment to spit words at him.

"Shut it." My voice is a venomous hiss. "This isn't about you. I asked, ‘where is mother?’" My rage is boiling over in my veins as his next words hit.

"We don't know," Eris breathes almost a whisper, slow and careful, knowing his words are putting him on thin ice. "You need to take a breath." I freeze at his words.

"What do you mean, ‘we don't know?’" I reply just as careful, my voice lowering harshly, coming out as almost a growl.

"We don't know. She's been missing for a while now." Eris' composure breaks slightly as he leans back to make eye contact with me behind our middle brothers who are too uncomfortable with this whole situation to say or do anything, hunching down in their seats as if to make themselves invisible. I stare back at him, hands tightening even more on the wooden arms of my chair, knuckles turning white. Even though in recent years, I wasn't close with her anymore, that doesn't change that she is my mother. I would like to believe she would be in my corner. I grapple at threads in my mind, searching for any response other than demanding to know why no one told me or if they had been looking for her. With my overwhelm taking over my mind, though, I come up with nothing.

"Althea." Beron starts again. "That is not why we are here." His tone is cold as ice, contradictory for the male who can summon fire on impulse. "It is time." He gestures to Eris, and in turn he rises slowly to his feet before speaking. His voice is tight but collected.

"Now, Althea is 156 years old. She is educated, has a talent for music and dance, and she is well built for and at the prime age to be bearing children," Eris' voice almost catches at the last bit as if saying it makes him uncomfortable. My eyes widen, and his next words strike me like lightning. "Those who are interested, please stand." Damn near all the males to my right stand, even the ones with their partners present. My cheeks flush with heat once more, my heart pounding in my throat. Then I notice in the corner of my eye that Farren slowly stands, but his eyes aren't on Eris; they're on me, a look of concern gracing his features.

"Well then, this is impressive," Beron relaxes back into his throne of a chair, finally seeing some results from his youngest child's upbringing and seeing he has all his guests right in the palm of his hand. His voice almost purrs as his prior anger melts away at the freedom this gives him. All the possibilities lay before him, but before making a decision, he wants to hear just how badly these fae want his daughter and what they are willing to do to get her. "Who wants to make their case first?" I'm absolutely flabbergasted. How could these Cauldron-damned fae be so cruel? How could my father, the bastard that he is, use his oldest son to sell me to the highest bidder? How could these fae look at me, a living, breathing female, as property when I am right there witnessing it all before my eyes?

"We are highly motivated," the male with his partner who has the wandering hands I eavesdropped on before speaks first, confidence never waning as he casts his eyes from Eris, to my father, and then back to me, his eyes dark with what looks to be lust. His partner still seated beside him nods in agreement, and I can just barely see her hand on the back of his thigh, a possessive power move, as she, too, eyes me. My courage returns, and I snap my head to meet her gaze, letting her see the fire in my eyes, but they don't retract their statement.

"You must be joking?" my voice cracks, not necessarily directing my words only at them. The whole room is filled with lust-drunk and power-hungry fae. What should I expect?

"We will pay whatever you like to have her in our court," one of the men from the end of the table speaks up as if I didn't even speak. My breath catches in my throat, and I can't breathe. This isn't happening. I slam myself into a standing position, knocking my chair back with a loud clatter. My brothers seated on my side of the table flinch away from me, and I slam my hands on the table, making the dishes nearby rattle. My next words leave me, strengthening my will and stoking the burning of my fury.

"The next person to speak, Cauldron be damned, will regret it!" my voice is unwavering as I turn to speak directly to my father. "You can't do this. I don't consent to this." However, my voice quickly loses some steam and resolve as I see his consistent, disinterested look, yet now his eyes are tinged with his own fiery anger for his daughter speaking out of turn in such a way.

"Althea. Sit." he demands.

"No. I refuse. I will not sit idly by while you decide what happens to me," my voice continues to boil, but it doesn't fail to crack as I feel the tears begin to grow in the corners of my eyes, blurring my vision. "You can't," I command a final time, realizing just how much I look like a child throwing a tantrum while begging for my life to be mine. My strength leaves me as Beron slowly stands, causing the rest of the room's air to heat. He is pissed, and the atmosphere absorbs his heat, quickly causing sweat to slick everyone's foreheads, and I can feel a bead of sweat make its way down the back of my neck.

"I can, I will, and you will follow my demand." His voice is cold, colder than I have ever heard it. A hand signal towards a couple of his guards who had been positioned at either side a few paces behind his seat step forward. "Take her to her room. She doesn't need to be here for this now. I believe our guests have seen enough." They move on command, and I immediately shudder under his triumphant glare, realizing no matter what I said, my fate was already decided long ago. Long before I was a woman, a teenager, a child. From the day I was born, my fate was sealed. I don't know what to say anymore, my mouth dry, and my soul crushed. The absolute overwhelming feeling of defeat and despair wipes away all my rage and births a new level of pain. As the guards close in, I turn on my heels and storm out of the hall, but my ears burn as I hear Eris' voice pick back up in a lighter tone in an attempt to settle the group after our exchange.

"Well, now you see she is a spitfire as well. Even more fun to break..." His words trail off as I put distance and walls between us, and I’m thankful I can’t hear how the rest of this conversation is going to go. My stomach is wound so tight in my core that I fear I will lose my dinner. I hope I will over this dress, so I will never have to see it again. With quick feet even in these shoes, I make my way quickly back through the halls, the guards close on my heels to make sure I make it back to my room. As much as I want to just take off and run for the hills, I know it's futile. They are faster than me. Once at the stairs, I rip off these damned shoes and throw them one by one at the guards the hardest I can, but of course, that doesn't stop them. Damn the Mother if I were to wear these another second and try to scale these damned stairs with them again.

"I'm going; leave me alone!" I raise my voice, and it goes a bit shrill. I lift my skirts and start the long run up the cold stone stairs, tears burning like fire on the sensitive skin of my cheeks as I direct all my emotions down into my feet. I refuse to break down on these stairs. Each driven step pushes me up, and up, and up until I am in my room. A solid slam of the door behind me seals me in, my breath hot and heavy in the most painful way as I quickly scan the room for a tall-backed chair and slam it under the doorknob, blocking out all behind it. Almost instantly, my body caves, the emotional coil that has been winding all evening snapping, and I fall back on the cold, hard floor, letting my primal sobs finally wreak havoc through my body. The loud cries echo off the tall walls of my room. My throat is sore; my skin is burning; my veins are boiling still with my anger and pain. The reality is washing over me - I have nowhere to go from here. ~~~ Previous Chapter --- Next Chapter

7 notes · View notes

belleta · 3 years

Text

The Forest - Part One

Consists: Supernatural, SKZ as different SN creatures, adventure, romance, drama, action, ......still trying to figure out all the details....lol XD

"Come on Y/N!", I was racing around the house. Trying to make sure I had everything for this trip. "Omg Y/N, let's GO~!" I swear to the universe she's going to thank me later. " I'm coming child!" I screamed back. Alrighty I just need my retainer. I bounded up the stairs and glided down the hallway with my cotton socks. Bursting into my room, I quickly scanned it for the sparkly emerald case. I caught sight of it out of the corner of my eye, "Boom!" I ran forward and snatched it off my windowsill. While leaping for my door, I paused and turned back to what I call my sanctuary. Call me paranoid but I'm kinda afraid of camping in the middle of the woods. Ever since I watched "The Blair Witch Project", I've been creeped.

It doesn't help that Jazzy forced us to watch the film, previous to this morning. I was drifting in the fairy floss clouds of my mind when a loud honk poured water on them. I sucked in a breath, blowing raspberries. Padding back over to my bedside, I grabbed my Ice Bear plushie. Giving it a quick squeeze and finally deciding that he's coming with me. Galloping back through the house, I made it out, locked the door and hopped in the back seat like a spring rabbit. "What took you so long?" I gazed up through my fringe at my girl bestie Jazmine. She had long beautiful honey blonde hair, and a mousy nose. Her blue eyes were alike with pebbles under a lake, with cheeks connected by a dash of light freckles. "I swear I just aged waiting for you" and Danny, our guy bestie. I've been best friends with Danny, since 3rd grade. Jazzy moved over during the 5th grade. All three of us have been with each other through thick and thin. Daniel was Hawaiian Japanese descent, had perfect colorful nails and absolutely gorgeous eye makeup. We were all dressed in casual, comfy clothes for the trip. Jazmine, or Jazzy as people call her, as the oldest. She was driving Danny's dad's truck. It was spacious and definitely was fit for the environment. Danny, second eldest was in shotgun and I, being the "baby", was in the back. "I was just making sure I have everything." The two rolled their eyes. Danny looked back at me "Girl, you need to chill. We've got everything and more" the boy stated. "I know, I know.....I'm just paranoid, you know.....being in the woods for a week" I looked down at my feet and played with my fingers to cover my embarressedness. "Awww, is the baby scared", Jazzy giggled, imitating a child. I swatted at her, "Let's just...finally go" I grumbled, reaching inside my bag to pull out my headphones. "Fine" they answered teasingly. While Jazzy was pulling out, I fastened myself and slid my headphones on. Bluetoothing them and unlocking my phone, I scrolled through my YouTube Music playlist finding the one named 'Bell Mix'. After that, I went back to the truffula trees and fairy floss. Just listening to my music and thinking about things. There were a couple times, where I thought I might get sick, but I had remembered my motion sickness bracelets. In your face! It's better to set out a little later, rather than having our vehicle reeking of my insides. 2 or 3 hours went by, or something. I'm not really sure, my brain doesn't really have a sense of time when I'm inside of it. We stopped to use the bathroom, get food and fuel at a gas station, maybe 2 hours away from the forest. "Can I, can I, can I, can I PLEASE?!?" I had been begging Jazzy to let me buy a bag of Haribo for 10 minutes now, and she was starting to break. I'm very persuasive as you find out, and I happen to be a very prominent weakness to many throughout my life. She finally gave in and I bounced away to the candy isle with glee and happily picked out a bag, promising to share. Jazzy just rolled her eyes and paid for our things. We trotted back to the car and continued our journey. It was nearing the end of 2pm when we finally arrived at the edge of the forest. It's lushes were absolutely perfectly splendid. The road continued for a hot minute, until it gave away to dirt and rocks. We didn't want to stray too far from the dirt road, so we slowly kept moving in until I suddenly exclaimed at the sight of a pretty little clearing. It had a few little bushes marking the edges, thick but soft looking grass, and a little dirt patch at one side that should be perfect for a firepit. We pulled over to take a look around, flattening a few bushes in the process. As soon as the truck came to a stop I shoved the door open and sprung down onto the flourishing forest floor. The first thing I did was take a deep breath to soak in the sweet scent of the untouched earth. I reached up, stretching and cracking a few of my bones in the process. Then I raced through the trees and undergrowth, toward the beautiful glade. It felt so nice to get away from civilization, I had always loved

getting away like this. Being able to recharge away from annoying people and sounds, my fears of the night were long forgotten. I was two steps away from the grass when I suddenly tripped over something. Tumbling forward and scratching my cheek. I landed on my face, but on the bright side it was luckily with no rocks around. The dirt however spared me at nothing, crawling into my fresh scrapes, was a sharp and quick stinging as I grabbed my face. "Seriously Y/N, we haven't even completely left the car yet and you've already managed to hurt yourself" Jazzy declared. Danny chimed in, "Did you hurt yourself at all?". Quickly inspecting myself, I responded "Yes, a tiny bit on my cheek, hands and knees", I could hear them muttering to themselves about how reckless I was sometimes. They started toward me and as I waited for them to catch up, I decided to look around and figure out where to put things for these next few days. While ogling the decently wide stretch that was conveniently shielded by a mighty sugar maple. I thought I saw something in the undergrowth a few meters away from me. I grabbed my glasses and narrowed my eyes, but right when I thought I saw whatever it was, two flashes shot in the opposite direction between the ferns and disappeared. They were kinda hidden but I could sorta make out one of the shapes was darker and slightly bigger. The other was a little bit easier but still was difficult, it was kinda brown, or maybe reddish? At that moment I felt two hands on my shoulders, "Let me see", it was Jazzy. She inspected my injury. "It'll be fine, just wash it off", "Okie-Dokie-Artichokie", she laughed and ruffled my hair. I gazed back at where I saw the two shapes but not even the bushes were still moving. "Hey!" I cocked my head back to the voice "Can you help me?" Danny was struggling to unpack from the back. "Sure thing Danny-O" I quickly stood up, maybe a little too quick. My vision went funny and I almost stumbled. "Oh my god Y/N! Be careful!" Jazzy scolded, "My bad!" I was a little all over the place at the moment. Finally we were on this trip! I mean, I waited 6 months for this and it's finally here! I'm not all childish, I'm actually very 4D. I'm just really excited okay? I more carefully walked back to the truck, where Danny was struggling to keep ahold of what appeared to be the tent. Over the course of the next hour and a half we set up everything. Goofing around and laughing. Danny had been pulling too hard on our sleeping bags, to wedge them out of the trunk. And had accidentally fallen onto the slightly wet dirt, causing a very prominent brown streak across his gray sweatpants and sky blue tie dye hoodie. I was currently on my way to find the stream that is supposably close by, with a screenshot of google maps and a compass. Service wasn't exactly a 5 star out here, but I didn't mind too much. I brought a portable WiFi router with me, so if Jason Vorhees just decided to pull one, we could call for help. Every so often I would hang a wooden heart ornament on one of the tree's branches, so if this was the correct way then we would never get lost. Also so that I didn't get lost right now. I had been making these last night, for these exact reasons. I swear only dumb people don't mark their surroundings, this is one of the main reasons why people disappear and are never found or get lost. There are no traces of where they've been, like these fruit loops really-...... After about another 20 meters I started hearing the sounds of water. It became louder and louder really quickly. Is there a waterfall here? I pondered, while quickening my pace with curiosity. 35 seconds later I came across a thinning in the trees and beyond a clear water stream. I finally broke out of the shelter provided from the thick leaves, the sun kissed my skin with it's warm touch. I looked around and sure enough, there was a small waterfall that looked straight out of a fairytale. It had multiple uneven levels, with smoothed boulders everywhere. And to top it all off, it had little water plants scattered around it. Absolutely

beautiful.... I scanned around and spotted a few giant boulders poking into the stream. I carefully picked my way over to them, clutching onto Danny's muddy clothes. Hopping onto the sunlight warmed stones, I positioned myself perfectly so that I could reach the water but wouldn't fall in. I reached into my pocket for my zip lock of natural soap, of course I didn't want to hurt this literally untouched land. I leaned down to dunk the fabric into the stream's crystal-like water and kneaded the brown smudge. It was decently cold, just perfect for a stream. I turned back to the small bag with a green bar wrapped with brown paper and a little herb decoration. I unzipped it and reached for a tiny hand towel I brought with me so that I would have a better grip on the soap, even if I got wet. After dunking the clothes in I took the bar of soap and swiped it all over. I dipped it into the water once to help the bubble come, then I started aggressively rubbing it. Once the outfit was foaming with suds, I slapped it into the brook. Holding onto the sleeve I rub it harshly all over to get the stains out. It was relatively still easy because the events of cause were only moments before. I was starting to disappear into my thoughts, getting deeper and deeper and deeper....... And just then a crash and from the trees, followed by snarls and barks. I was so lost in my thought that this jolted me into the canal. The water suddenly became ice cold, my scream had been washed away. A surge of water filled my lungs from the way my mouth was open to yelp. I could still hear the sounds of fighting every so often, when I would surface. My head was hurting, my skin was stinging and my lungs were screaming. Someone.....please help..... It was hurting so much, I was trying not to panic. So I could find the surface and get back to shore. I would break through it's crisp arctic clutches every so often and would cry out for help but then get cut off by the now frosty darkness. I was giving up to the stream and submitting to the coldness. Letting it swallow me whole. I was numb, I couldn't feel my body being thrown around anymore, Is this how my story ends? No! I don't want to! I still have things to do! I need to graduate, and find my passion! I need to find a man who will love me as much as I do! I need to birth young and care for them! I want to grow old with my partner happily! I can't die yet! I just can't! But it was just so cold. I had stopped moving violently, so I guess I had been poured into a lake or something. I didn't care anymore. My blood felt frozen, I couldn't even bend a finger. That's when I felt a force near me, it parted the waters. Moving me in a different direction with its power. Then not long after I felt something grab hold of me in an awkward way. I was starting to be pulled into another direction, as the water streamed around, parting to let me and whatever that was saving me through. Then I broke through the surface and that was the last thing I felt before slipping into a comfy unconsciousness.

50 notes · View notes

thewidowsghost · 3 years

Text

The Unknown Muggleborn - Chapter 20

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

"And you, (L/n)," Malfoy leers as (Y/n) crosses the shop after Harry. "I'm astounded you didn't go in for the attention. That seems to be your focus at school."

"Leave her alone, she doesn't want attention," says Ginny. It is the first time she'd spoke in front of (Y/n); she's glaring at Malfoy.

"(L/n), you've got yourself a girlfriend!" drawls Malfoy. Ginny goes scarlet as Ron and Hermione fight their way over, both clutching stacks of Lockhart's books.

"Oh, it's you," says Ron, looking at Malfoy as if he is something unpleasant on the sole of his shoe. "Bet you're surprised to see Harry and (Y/n) here, eh?"

"Not as surprised as I am to see you in a shop, Weasley," retorts Malfoy. "I suppose your parents will go hungry for a month to pay for all those."

Ron goes as red as Ginny. He drops his books into the cauldron, too, and starts towards Malfoy, but (Y/n) grabs him by the back of his jacket, looking rather bored.

"Ron!" says Mr. Weasley, struggling over with Fred and George. "What are you doing? It's too crowded in here, let's go outside."

"Well, well, well — Arthur Weasley." It is Mr. Lucius Malfoy. He stands with his hand on Draco's shoulder, sneering in the same way.

"Lucius," says Mr. Weasley, nodding coldly.

"Busy time at the Ministry, I hear," says Mr. Malfoy. "All those raids . . . I hope they're paying you overtime?"

Mr. Malfoy reaches into Ginny's cauldron and extracts, from amid the glossy Lockhart books, a new copy of A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration. "Obviously they have," Mr. Malfoy says, looking surprised. "Hmm, I wonder, what's the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard of they only pay you enough for one lousy book."

Mr. Weasley flushes darker than either Ron or Ginny, and (Y/n)'s eyes flash silver.

Even though Harry and Hermione knew it is probably useless, but they grab onto the back of (Y/n)'s shirt, straining to hold the girl back.

"We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy," Mr. Weasley growls.

"Clearly," says Mr. Malfoy, his pale eyes straying to (Y/n), who is holding Ron back, and Mr. and Mrs. Granger, who are watching apprehensively. "The company you keep, Weasley . . . and I thought your family could sink no lower -"

There is a thud of metal as Ginny's cauldron goes flying: Mr. Weasley had thrown himself at Mr. Malfoy, knocking him backward into a bookshelf. Dozens of heavy spellbooks come thundering down on all their heads; there is a yell of, "Get him, Dad!" from Fred or George; Mrs. Weasley is shrieking, "No, Arthur, no!"; Draco is squealing as (Y/n) twists his arm back - the girl having moved faster than the others had seen - (Y/n) pushing the arm up closer to Draco's shoulders; the crowd stampedes backwards, knocking more shelves over; "Gentlemen, my dear, please - please!" cries the assistant, and then, louder than all -

"Break it up, there, break it up -"

(Y/n) turns her gaze on Hagrid, who is wading towards them through the sea of books. (Y/n) lets go of Draco's arm, but not before shoving him forward; Draco stumbles, falling face first into a pile of books. In an instant, Hagrid had pulled Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy apart. Mr. Weasley had a cut lip, and Mr. Malfoy had been hit in the eye by an Encyclopedia of Toadstools. Malfoy is still holding Ginny's Transfiguration book. He thrusts it at her, his eyes glittering with malice.

"Here, girl - take your book - it's the best your father can give you -" pulling himself out of Hagrid's grip, Mr. Malfoy pulls Draco from the ground and sweeps from the shop.

"Yeh should've ignored them, (Y/n), Arthur," says Hagrid, almost lifting Mr. Weasley off his feet as he straightens his robes. "Rotten ter the core, the whole family, everybody knows that - no Malfoy's worth listenin' ter - bad blood, that's what it is - come on now - let's get outta here."

The assistant looks as though he wants to stop them from leaving, but he barely comes up to Hagrid's waist and seems to think better of it. They hurry up to the street, the Grangers shaking with fright and Mrs. Weasley beside herself with fury, and a contented smirk on (Y/n)'s face.

(Y/n)'s friends look at her, amazement in their eyes. Last they knew, (Y/n) didn't know any martial arts or anything of that nature. Something must've changed for her over the summer, Ron thinks.

"A fine example to set for your children . . . brawling in public . . . what Gilderoy Lockhart must've thought -" Mrs. Weasley scolds her husband.

"He was pleased," says Fred. "Didn't you hear him as we were leaving? He was asking that bloke from teh Daily Prophet if he'd be able to work the fight into his report - said it was all publicity -"

But it is a subdued group that heads back to teh fireside in the Leaky Cauldron, where Harry, the Weasleys and all their shopping would be traveling back to the Burrow using Floo powder.

. . .

"Hermione?" (Y/n) questions her sister, (Y/n) and Hermione having joined Ginny and Neville in one of the carriages in the train.

"Hmm," Hermione says, looking up from one of her Gilderoy Lockhart books.

"Is that a flying car?" (Y/n) asks and the other three in the compartment dash over, looking at the blue Ford Anglia flying through the sky beside the Hogwarts Express.

"That's my dad's car," Ginny says, looking away shyly as (Y/n) turns her green gaze on youngest Weasley.

"Ron and Harry are so dead," (Y/n) mutters and Hermione nods, going back to her Lockhart book.

. . .

With an earsplitting bang of metal on wood, the blue Ford Anglia hits the thick tree trunk and drops to the ground with a heavy jolt. Steam is billowing from under the crumpled hood; Hedwig is shrieking in terror, a golf-ball-sized lump is throbbing on Harry's head where he had hit the windshield; to his right, Ron lets out a low, despairing groan.

"Are you okay?" Harry says urgently.

"My wand," groans Ron in a shaky voice. "Look at my wand -"

It had snapped, almost in two; the tip is dangling limply, held on by a few splinters.

Harry opens his mouth to say he is sure they'd be able to med it up at the school, but he never even gets started. At that very moment, something hits his side of the car with the force of a charging bull, sending him lurching sideways into Ron, just as an equally heavy blow hits the roof.

"What's happen -?"

Ron gasps, staring though the windshield, and Harry looks around just in time to see a branch as thick as a python smash into it. The tree they hit was attacking them. Its trunk is bent almost double and its gnarled boughs are pummeling ever inch of the car it could reach.

"Aaargh!" says Ron as another twisted limb punches a large dent into his door; the windshield is now trembling under a hail of blows from knuckle-like twigs and a branch as thick as a battering ram was pounding furiously on the roof, which seems to be caving. "Run for it!" Ron shouts, throwing his full weight against his door, but next second he had been knocked backward into Harry's lap by a vicious uppercut from another branch. "We're done for!" he moans as the ceiling sagged, but suddenly the floor of the car is vibrating — the engine had restarted.

Word Count: 1288 words

Taglist:

@big-galaxy-chaos

#tony stark x daughter reader #ginny weasley x fem reader #hermione granger x sister reader

11 notes · View notes

redspecialstardust · 5 years

Text

Always Look After You - Oneshot

(Freddie Mercury X Fem!Reader)

After an incident goes down with a pervy fan, the paparazzi do their best to attack you; Freddie doesn't take kindly to it (gifs not mine)

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Ppl being turds, verbal sexual harassment, unwanted touching, Freddie getting angry

*Can be read as OG Freddie, or BoRap Freddie. Reader is a member of the band

It was worse than all of you had thought; without fail, just like everything else the band did, word got out about an incident---a bad incident. Last week after a gig at the Rainbow Theater, things got messy between you and a male fan. Usually when exiting a venue, Queen would just beeline for the limo, climb in and drive off.

But that night had gone extremely well concerning a great show and a positive turnout so all of you agreed to show a bit more appreciation towards the adoring audience. Once exiting the place, the band branched out to the roped off areas where the people were cheering over the fact that Queen was only feet away from them. It was going nicely too; countless autographs were signed as well as fun, friendly conversations with them. Just like each member, you also had those rabid fans who loved you completely for your talent and good looks.

Being a humble girl, kind comments often made you blush a bit, but nevertheless, concert after concert, the work on those electric violin solos of yours were gaining more and more attention every time. About twenty minutes in, you found yourself kind of floating amongst the crowd, smiling obliviously at all the positive attention for you and the boys, but it wasn't long before a man had caught your attention. He waved a bit, calling your name happily. So you naturally gravitated towards him and said a hello.

"Hello sir." You smiled.

"Hi (Y/N), wow it's great to meet you."

He had been nervously holding out an autograph book, which you kindly took and began to write your signature.

"Oh thanks, you too. Did you enjoy the show tonight?"

"Sure did, it was the best! And your violin skills are getting better all the time."

What a sweet guy.

"I appreciate that but honestly I think it was John who stole the show tonight."

He leaned in closer

"Well, between me and you, you're always the one to steal the show."

"Aww, well just make sure Freddie doesn't hear you say that." Both of you chuckled at the thought of Freddie getting jealous.

Afterwards, you handed him his pen and book back, intending to walk around a bit more but was suddenly stopped by his grip on your wrist. Okay, okay, no big deal, right? He probably just wanted to say one more thing and had to get your attention.

"Was there something else?" You asked, getting a bit uncomfortable.

His whole disposition seemed to evolve right in front of you and It was a little scary actually; his initially kind eyes almost went from cheery to maybe a bit dark, dare you say, hungry? His voice morphed too as it slightly purred, making your body freeze since you'd never had to deal with something like this before.

"How do you feel about getting out of here with me? I know a great club around here that's even 'clothing optional'. Judging by the way you move up there in those tight clothes, you're probably dying to let that gorgeous skin breathe."

Holy crap, this could not be happening. By this point he was even caressing your forearm, creating even more fearful adrenaline inside you; his grip had gotten tighter too. This may have been inappropriate, but the last thing you wanted was for everyone around you to see this esteemed band member 'attack' a fan; not at least without attempt possibly everything before going into defense mode. Why try fight when you could try flight, correct? Trying to maintain your composure, you stopped trying to pull away for a minute.

"U-uh, well, sorry sir, but I have a boyfriend."

You tried to get away again, but his fingers locked around you harder, and slowly pulled you closer.

"You what?! Who is it?!" His voice getting rather grating.

"That's not your business!"

"Is it one of them? You one of their whores?" He asked, nodding towards Freddie, Roger, John and Brian, who at the moment were totally unaware of what was happening just yards away. One of them you were seeing, but a whole you were not. At the time, you and Freddie had become an item only a few weeks ago, and chose to wait before announcing, just to make sure it was going anywhere for real. Only the other boys of Queen knew of this arrangement.

"Let go!" You shrieked, dropping all concern over the fact you were surrounded by fans, enough was enough! When you tried to get away again, he yanked you to his side, trying to cop a kiss. But before he could even pin your arm down to your waist, you immediately used it clock him on the side of his face over and over until he let go, and for good measure, kicked your boot to his crotch, and you kicked hard too.

The commotion was still very chaotic and people all over were panicking since your scream had been a kind of blind curveball to those minding their own business. The boys caught on to the madness erupting around them and saw you jumping back from where you were. All they knew was that it seemed you were in potential danger, and without having to exchange glances or words, all four of them corralled around you protectively, begging to know what happened.

"Are you alright, (Y/N)?" John said, rubbing your shoulders.

You were still a little shaken.

"Y-yeah, I think so."

Brian and Roger quickly hugged you, trying to calm your obviously panicked vibe. But Freddie on the other hand, he marched right in front of you, with fear in his eyes.

"(Y/N) Darling, what happened? Are you hurt? Tell me!" He pleaded, cupping your face .

"That guy on the ground there; he...he grabbed me and he wanted me to go to a club with him. I tried to get away, but he wouldn't let go, so I hit him."

"He grabbed you?!" Rogee yelled.

"Did he hurt you?" Freddie repeated.

You held your arm up, showing them the slightly bloody nail scratches this perv left. It didn't hurt that much, but it left you scared for sure. No one had ever put their hands on you like that before. All of them gasped a bit at the minor injury. One of their own had been hurt, and that was not a light issue in the slightest. Especially not to Freddie, your very protective boyfriend. When he gawked at the wound, the shock from this began to turn to rage as he slowly turned and saw the culprit still trying to stand and recover from the nasty kick you gave him. The punches you landed may hurt, but it was nothing compared to the pain that the lead singer was about to inflict.

In the most unsubtle way, Freddie screamed and ran for the perv and tried to practically maul him right there, but the rest of the guys held him back; they didn't like you getting hurt either, but the last thing they needed was more physical violence going down right now.

"YOU PUT YOUR HANDS ON HER?! I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!"

One week later:

While you and the boys agreed to try to put that awful memory behind you, Freddie was still seething over the fact he didn't get to kick that guy's ass before being restrained. The press seemed to be quite hung up on it too, but the headlines didn't rule in your favorite at all. In fact, the victim in the scenario according to everyone else was that 'Poor man who just wanted to meet his favorite band'. No one knows how he did it, but in just seven short days, he had spread his version of the story all over the place and made it sound like it was you, the crazy hormonal female that went ape after he asked for an autograph.

Pictures in all the papers consisted of shots of you punching and throwing him to the ground in addition to Freddie lunging like a panther and screaming like a madman. Well he was mad--no, pissed that someone put his hands on you and for the most part, got away with it. The assault didn't stop there either. Queen was being sued all because you chose to defend yourself and it was an outrage.

To make things worse, a conference had been scheduled to talk about the new clothing line you and Freddie had collaborated on making, but with this under your belt, there's no way everyone there was gonna want to hear about yours and his original clothes. As you all anxiously stood in your green room, the pacing tension only seemed to increase. Freddie noticed your nervous self sitting depressed on the couch, and held you close to him, his lips lovingly pressed against your head.

He knew how scared you were and that you felt as if your career with Queen would be over. You didn't have to say it, but with him knowing you so well, he already figured you had considered leaving them so that the paparazzi would leave them alone.

"Don't even think about it." He wasn't about to lose contact with his love all because of some preposterous rumors.

"But Fred-"

"No 'buts' Darling; you're apart of the family and of my heart, so if you think for one second I'm going to allow these parasites to scare you away, then I'm ashamed."

The rest of them completely agreed. They loved you, and were more than willing to go through all the bad press. Thick and thin, Queen was going to stay together whether people liked it or not. As you looked up at the rest of them for reassurance, Brian tenderly smiled and put his hand out for you to grab. With your hand, you stretched out took it, feeling Roger and John hug you from left and right. The loyalty was astounding as most bands would have asked the elephant in the room to make itself scarce, but no, not with them. You sniffled out a thank you and felt your boyfriend complete the embracing circle; just then, Miami came out but quickly took a step back to let you all finish your moment.

"Miami?" Fred asked.

"They're uh, they're ready for you all."

Freddie nodded, motioning for everyone to follow him out there. As you all walked past Miami, he gently put his hand on your shoulder. The quiet gentleman was just as angry about this incident. Just like the boys were like his sons, you were like a daughter to him, and to see his daughter upset broke his heart.

"I'm terribly sorry this happened, (Y/N). Had I been there, me and Freddie would have both torn him apart."

"Thanks Jim."

The next thirty seconds of you walking out in front of all those reporters seemed to go into slo mo. The flashing camera, the judgemental expressions, the overlapping voices...be strong. All five band members cautiously sat, awaiting the inevitable. Brian calmly spoke up first and asked if anyone had any questions, and like it was a trigger word, the hurricane of one question on top of another, all from different voices made you shudder. Freddie sensed the fear, and carefully massaged your hand under the desk where no one could see.

For a while, the questions were surprisingly relevant to the clothing line. It seemed as if many of the journalists were also apprehensive about asking of a sensitive topic, which really helped you relax a bit. The calm coming over you also helped the guys to ease up as well.

"Who's idea was it to start the clothing line? (Y/N)s or Freddie's?"

"Well mine of course, my dear." Freddie boasted. "(Y/N) is very smart, but I'm still the brains of the operation."

You playfully shook your head, making the reporters laugh.

"(Y/N), which articles of clothing would you say is your strong point in designing?"

"Hmm. I think it'd have to be stylish shirts, along with accessories like scarves and hats, I've always got so many ideas for them."

"Has there been a lot of arguments over which designs should be kept and scrapped?"

"Oh it's no different than the boys arguing over music. But, before I can beat any sense into them, our manager, Miami holds me back." You chuckled.

"You mean just like how you beat that gentleman outside the theater last week?"

That question came out of nowhere so fast, it made you blank and stutter for a moment. Maybe using the word beat wasn't a good idea; you swear you didn't mean for all of this to start.

"I-I'm sorry?" You coyly asked.

"At the Rainbow Theater. You physically assaulted a fan after he asked for an autograph, is that true?"

"No, it isn't." And it begins...

"We have photographic evidence of you hitting him."

"I only hit him because---"

"Do you plan on taking any anger management classes?"

"I don't have any anger issues."

"He had a black eye and a cracked jaw along with severe damage to his privates."

"But he--"

"Did your parents used to beat you as a child?"

"M-my parents never put their hands on me."

"SHE'S LYING." A voice called from the crowd. It came out so loudly that everyone shut up immediately. When everyone in the room peered to the back, that same piece of crap who put his hands on you walked out of nowhere. His black eye was still dark as a shadow and his walk was definitely a bit crippled. Wow did you really hit him that hard? The boys all tensed and nearly growled at the scum before them.

"This whore is doing her best to hide her real self. All I wanted was an autograph, but then like a psycho, she wailed on me like a dog on raw meat."

"Liar!" Brian shouted

"Stop trying to defend your plaything, May. She's a monster and deserves punishment, I deserve compensation! Tell me (Y/N), who do you plan on attacking next? Another woman? a child maybe?"

Your chest began to unevenly breathe as your heart pounded; a panic attack was definitely coming on, and Freddie could feel the sweat forming on the palm he was rubbing. You wanted more than anything to tell them the real story, but all your thoughts were racing way too fast. Before you knew it, the cameras all began to flash in unison again and the constant questions poured while the accuser kept pointing and calling you every possible derogatory word. Freddie glanced at you and saw no difference between your fear or a deer staring into headlights. He felt your palm go limp as you began to dissociate and he couldn't stay calm anymore.

The king of Queen sprang to his feet and bellowed as loudly as possible.

"SHUT THE HELL UP!"

Once again, it went quiet and all attention went to him. John saw how frightened you were and gently led you back to the green room.

"Do you all want the real story? I'll give you the real story! We were all there. This sorry excuse of a man put his hands on one of my bandmates. She showed clear as day that she didn't want to be touched, and then he gripped her and tried to force himself on her. She acted upon self defense, and what he got was even less than he deserved. This pissflap deserves to go to prison and be made into every convict's girlfriend!"

Fred reached into his pocket, pulling out a polaroid photo.

"This photo...contains proof of the damage he inflicted on her. He grabbed her so tightly against her will that it left scratches and made her bleed! This man is no victim, he's a roach beneath my shoe...a roach that I'll make sure he wished was still hiding under the fridge he crawled out of!"

The journalists were writing everything down, transfixed on this side of the story they'd never heard. Was this true? Was Freddie trying to cover his friend's crime? Roger saw the doubt on everyone's faces and when your aggressor scoffed, he

the drummer snatched the photo from Freddie and handed it to Miami, whispering something in his ear. The manager nodded and kindly gave it to a photographer. The Polaroid began to get passed around, tension growing and judging faces now pointing to this man. They could tell the arm in the photo was definitely yours because you'd been wearing your signature zodiac bracelet; something you never went without.

"Now if you'll all excuse me, I have a girl to check on." Freddie announced.

As the band headed back, the journalists had already begun swarming the culprit. It seemed their work was done.

You were still shaking on the couch, and that loving boyfriend of yours wrapped his jacket around your shoulders.

"Let's go home." He whispered.

Without any fight, your feet stood with his and walked out with him, only upon going outside, he moved his jacket from your shoulders, to covering your head. He didn't want anyone in the press to see you upset, nor want you to see that idiot in the window. The limo was already waiting, and once you two piled in, he told the driver to return to Garden Lodge.

Freddie was still holding you tight, rubbing your back.

He kissed your head.

"I want this to be over, Freddie."

"It's alright my Love. I showed them the picture and told the whole story. I don't think it's quite over yet, but I think most will know you're innocent."

Your heart lightened at that. It was truly a relief knowing that your honor meant everything to him.

"Now what?" You sniffled.

"We go home. We get into our pajamas. And we binge watch all the comedies we can find, because I want to see you smile."

And just as he promised, you and Freddie spent the rest of the day cuddling on the couch with you, under a pile of blankets and of course, his cats.

THE END

Thanks for reading! Find more from me on the Masterlist

#queen #queen band #april 2019 #gif #rami!freddie #freddie mercury #bohemian rhapsody #queen fanfic #queen fanfiction #queen band imagine #m's stories #freddie mercury x reader #freddie mercury x fem!reader #masterlist

72 notes · View notes

frivery · 3 years

Text

Annnnnd it's Daiden's birthday piece! Hooray! POV of Daiden as he makes first true contact with other people. A warning that there are a lot of things Daiden does not know the words or functions for since he exists completely separate from others. EX. he doesn't know what armor is, he knows the concept but not the word. Doesn't know what paper is and therefor is a stranger to all things written.

The creature crept through the deep groves of nature, shadows of green sticking to his form as he stalked along the edge of one of many messy paths through the deep forest maze. His eyes dripped ice, hands leaving frost in their wake when he brushed cold and clawed fingertips along the closely grown trees of the grove. These trees were ancient, reaching towards the heavens like they would not elsewhere, and massive in diameter with smaller, stock-thin, saps stuffed between them creating an ever-constant thick blanket of leaves to blend in with. The bushes were thick and tall, lush emerald brushing across the thick bear-pelt at his hip as he carefully stepped over fallen branches, dead leaves, and uncovered roots.

He could hear the tone of travelers along that path through the thicket, travelers needing to go through the maze for one reason or another, as he often did he crouched to wait for them.

Among them was a small, green-toned, being with pointed ears. He did not know what a creature such as that would be called but he knew it was only slightly taller than half the size of most of the people who came this way. Pad of something, feather in the other, as she gestured and scrapped the metal-tipped edge into the soft-seeming white of the object. Symbols, shapes, of some kind that had no meaning to him but that she seemed to know by heart, her eyes not lifting from her work. Many of the other travelers were much in the same boat, unobservant in nature, chattering like early-season birds, reading books, or even... picking leaves from the bushes as they passed to press them into a thing, not unlike the one that the green-person had. What he didn't see was the individual he was expecting, the tall man with vines twisting around his arms from the sheer amount of time he spent exposed to this deep magic. That man was a leader, or guide, of some kind and was the only familiar face he knew, and for some reason he wasn't here today.

The creature could recall when he first encountered the man, following the massive being on his trek through the dangerous woods out of curiosity, the man seeming relaxed and carefree despite the inherent threat of the Labyrinth. He hadn't realized how much attention the man was actually paying to his surroundings until the goliath turned and met his eyes in the tree's dark, spinning on his heel and pinning him to the foliage in which he hid with shocking accuracy. The creature had expected fear, or aggression, instead the two had stared at each other across the several bear-length expanses. Neither moving. 'Huh' is all the man had said, eventually, seeming to glance over the creature's form in the dark before resuming his trek through the woods. He had almosst thought that the man hadn't actually seen him, returning to his usual behaviour, until the man set down for camp and placed several strange fruits on a piece of cloth. He had thought it strange for the man to need two clothes to eat, until the man got up and left the one on the ground untouched. For... him? It had been an odd experience at the time but the creature and the guide were both much older beings now. It had become an exchange, the man would leave him food whenever his traveling party ate and in exchange the creature would shadow him and distract any predators that the group happened upon.

But this being, dressed in soot-colored metal sheets to protect and wearing a strange dragon-shaped hood-mask over its face, was not the man he was used to. It was much smaller than the man, felt different in the air, and led the group with both more leniency and more rigidness. Allowing the weak ones to prattle like overly-comfortable squirrels, while holding none of the comfortable, relaxed, banter that the other could at a much lower volume. Where was the usual guide?

The creature followed, curious and unsure, peaking at the new guide through the leaves as he carefully stalked the traveling group along their journey. It had been several hours like this before the group settled down to camp in one of the usual small clearings. Usually, the man would sit on the stump near the middle of the clearing, a great tree felled long before either of their time creating a place to rest not on the dirt floor, but this new one allowed a being of shiny cloth to perch on the rest instead... giving up the high ground to an unobservant mortal instead of keeping it for itself. Was this new guide not taking the maze seriously? Getting lost was the least of one's worries in such a place, the reason so many went missing was from the monsters that lurked. Surely, this being knew that.

A hot bubbling feeling in his chest the more he watched the group interact, at how this new being was not taking the dangers here seriously, during his blood warm before the hooded being turned and looked over its shoulder. Glancing with what must be wind eyes over the shadows that he hid in, before blinking and doing it again but more carefully. It had seen him, he could tell when it went stock still like a deer spotting its hunter. It seemed to doubt itself, glancing around again before the eyes focused in on him. What would it do? Run? Try to attack him? Curiosity smothered the frustration that had started in him, not unlike what he had felt when he had first encountered the other guide. The metal-coated being drew a long-sword, pushing the green-toned small woman behind him with his foot to join the now scurrying group of travelers that flattened like rats behind the guide. Leave them, or push the issue?

The creature tilted its head, blinking ice-lorn eyes before creeping out of the bushes like a caught, but still satisfied, quillrunner. Posture relaxed, confident. Now, out in the open, the being looked him over as if sizing him up. The brambles that fell away from his skin, deeply embedded within his flesh and growing into tangled swathes like thorny braids that cascaded down his body marked him as a creature of this place. Showed that the labyrinth had long since begun to consume him, just like it had the real guide with vines wrapped around his fists. Pelts covered him where the various plants growing out of his skin would not, a large wolf cloak pulled over his head, a black bear cut to wrap his shoulders and waist. A hunter, he belonged here, this being in shiny black did not.

"Who... who are you?" its voice cracked the first try, he watched it wince through its mask, seeming to steal itself before getting out the entire sentence. The creatures behind it cowered like cornered prey does, he could almost feel their racing heartbeats from across the clearing. Still so far...

"I will ask, again. Who are you?" more firm now, a cub finding its voice, eyes turning stern.

"He is....dubbed, Daiden." his own voice cracked dry from disuse, snapping through the syllables like vines under too much pressure, it too lending to his belonging to the maze.

"Daiden? Alright, uh, I am Leesil." the sword in its hand wavered slightly, glancing away as they spoke, before its posture tightened and the look returned. " Why are you following my expedition? What do you want?"

"Ex-sped-it-on?" he repeated back, slowly, he could not remember the last time he had spoken, his voice like dried bark being wrung out. The word the being had said he did not know, but he supposed if it as important he would have learned it long ago so he continued when the being moved as if to respond. "He always follows, has for a very long time, the old guide knew this."

"Valiant?" the masked creature asked, throwing it out like it should mean something but he offered no response to it. "Why do you follow, what do you want?" it repeated it's question, lowering the sword towards the earth. The creature took this as invitation, glancing ice eyes over the cowering mice before slowly, deliberately, approaching the shiny being in black. They did not shy away, merely dipping their head slightly and pinning eyes of warning on him when he got too close. Hand gripping sword tighter, the sound of leather squeaking against it. 'No closer' it wordlessly said, and he complied.

"I follow as a... trick for your hunters. The beasts hear your companions, like rabbits, and they see feast. They track you, hunt you, and he watches. He watches so when they get close he can lead them away."

"You distract them for us?" surprise on the creature's voice? He tilted his head to the side, looking at the being sideways with frozen irises.

"You still haven't told me why." the Leesil repeated.

"The guide gives offerings of... many fruits, Daiden keep travelers safe from predators."

"Oh... really? That's it?" more surprise? The creature continued to look at the other sideways, watching it put the sword back. The gesture, as well as the relaxing posture, seemed to signal to the others that they no longer need to huddle together like freezing swallows. The little green one, a woman of extremely small stature, approached him with her feather out while the guide fumbled through their bags for something.

"Woooow, you are covered in flora! So much it almost looks like its apart of you. Is that the nature magic effects or is that camouflaged to blend in here?" the tiny woman questioned, eyes gleaming in an almost dangerous way. The creature knitted it's eyebrows together and took a step back. Retreat got him nowhere, however, as she somehow seemed to take this as invitation. Now closer than before, she reached out to brush a finger across the surface of one of the petals flowering out of his leg. Stems wrapped, thorny, around his calf down to his feet, flowers of red peppering his darker-stained legs with color like blood.

"It's frozen." she said before he pulled away, taking another retreating step away that she allowed as she gestured with her feather at that strange multi-layer block thing. "Is it wild magic? Everything you have on you seems to have a layer of frost on it."

"He... just is?" he responded slowly. She frowned at the answer but the creature did not care for whatever this green thing was.

"Elpis, please do not torment the being who could, very well, end up with your life in his claws." the Leesil warned her, allowing him to return his gaze to the shiny guide. In the being's hands was a clay cup filled with some of those strange fruits that the other guide would generally offer him. Blues, and purples, and reds, gleamed in the cup tempting, holding all of the creature's attention as the new guide approached him with it held out like... an offering? "I was a little confused when I saw these in our provisions earlier, we don't usually carry berries around on scorcher expedi-... treks, I guess Valiant meant them to be for you."

The creature said nothing, carefully, cautiously, taking the clay thing from the masked guide. An accidental brush of his own skin on theirs, causing a sharp-intake of air as a moment of frost spread to their hand before receding as he stepped away with the cup of fruit in hand. To say he was pleased would be an understatement, the majority of his meals were of meats or edible flowers, most of the fruit that grew here being poison on his tongue. Beautiful and tempting but dangerous... these were just sweet. No danger. Normally, when the tall guide would give him fruit, it would be left on small piece of clean cloth. He would take it, keeping the fruit until the travelers would rest for the night and eating it then. But... he didn't think he could do that with this clay thing and eating in company was only a good idea if you knew they were not a danger. It made you vulnerable. His mind wavered like this, deeply wanting to just down all of the berries as quickly as possible with how much he wanted it, but on the other hand his caution told him to not risk letting his guard down just for a few tasty morsels.

"What... are you exactly?" the new guide mentioned, drawing his dripping eyes up from the cup to blink at them.

"He is Daiden."

"No, yeah, your name is Daiden but you are not part of a species named Daiden, are you?" he stared at the being, not understanding what exactly the question was.

"What is a Leesil?" he responded, looking down at the cup of berries again as his mind decided what he was going to do. Picking up one to put it, testingly, in his mouth.

"I am not 'a Leesil'. I am Leesil, that's my name, but I am an elf. What are you?" so... it was Leesil and it belonged to a group called elf.

"What is elf?"

"You don't know what an elf is?" said like it was absurd, the creature putting a couple of the sweet fruits into his mouth instead of responding in affirmation. It should be pretty obvious he didn't know what elf was.

"Okay, do you know what Valiant is?"

"Courage." the creature responded quickly, throat beginning to ache from speaking so much.

"That's... the word's meaning, yes. Valiant is the name of the other deepscorcher that travels here."

"What is deepscorcher?"

"I am a deepscorcher." the Leesil said.

"He thought Leesil was Elf."

"I am, I am called Leesil, I am an Elf, I belong to a group called the deepscorchers." why did they need so many titles? He got along just fine with the one.

"I don't think you'll be able to get him to understand so easily. He obviously doesn't interact with other people much." the green woman said, he had been aware of her continued observation for a while and it was making eating his berries difficult.

"He sees the Valiant guide." the creature defended, causing the small being to laugh.

"You see him, you don't even know his name so I doubt you've ever spoken with him." he frowned at the woman's words, narrowing his icy eyes at her. She did not seem phased with the look, strange how she had been cowering like a mouse before, pulling a semi see-through box out of her bag and tapping on it with a sharp look.

"Tell me, Daiden, have you ever had a cake before?"

"What is cake?"

"Food, it is very sweet. We call it a dessert, something so delicious you aren't supposed to eat it very often." the creature eyed the green-thing's box, his berry cup almost empty. "I will give you some cake if you sit down and let me examine you."

"Elpis, honestly now, don't you think it's a little bit immoral to take advantage of-"

"Give cake." her gaze shifted back to him, sharp like a cunning cougar watching a large bird waiting for it to slip up.

"Then you agree to my terms? I offer you a cake and in exchange Daiden allows me to research him?"

"Elpis-" the Leesil sounded exasperated.

"Yes." he cut off, holding out his hand for the box. The Elpis placed it into his palm, the strange container feeling slick and flimsy in his claws.

"Sit down, please." she hummed, the creature complying and settling onto the dirt floor to finish his berries. The new guide sighed, looking towards the canopy-covered sky, before sitting down next to them as if to keep an eye on them. The Elpis promptly reached out a finger and hooked it around one of the vines that fell over his shoulder, pulling it away from his cold skin until he could feel a slight pulling sensation along the nape of his neck.

"Oh, wow, these do grow out of you. Can you feel them?"

"Yes, the tangles grow along spine." a short answer, putting the now empty cup down to examine the weird container.

"Let me show you how to open that." the Leesil offered, quietly, offering a hand that the creature started at distrustingly for a long moment before handing it over.

"Oh, that is sooo strange, I wonder if the roots are tangled in the nerves. Is all of the flora on you actually part of you?" he watched the guide open the strange box, it making a loud sound as the bottom pulled away from the top, and the elf passed the 'cake' back to him.

"Yes." a belated answer to her question, no elaboration. This 'cake' was a pink color, bright as a freshly bloomed flower in dew, with small red sliced things in it. What would this thing taste like? He took a bite, the texture soft and spongy and sweet as the sweetest berry. Daidan was so awestruck that he didn't even notice the Elpis touching his bare-arm experimentally. When eating you were supposed to just swallow the food in the mouth but the creature couldn't bring himself to do that. It was the best thing he had ever tasted.

"Interesting. Your skin beginning to transfer ice on contact, creating a layer of frost on all of the things on you, but touching the vines or flowers growing from you don't do that." it was a good thing the green-one hadn't been expecting an answer from him, he was too invested in the taste in his mouth to pay attention.

"Wow, that good huh?" the Leesil said, tone light and breezy as the creature looked up at them. For a long moment he just stared at the guide, mind refusing to think of anything but cake, before slowly nodding.

"I will let Valiant know of your new found love for dessert, maybe he'll bring you more for your help." he suddenly liked this Leesil creature. Now that he knew this would not be the only cake he ever had he felt much less guilty for eating it, swallowing the bite he had taken and returning to eating it at a much more reasonable pace. Maybe being spotted be this creatures wasn't such a bad things anymore.

0 notes

wiipes · 4 years

Text

Exploring W/ Waiola & Friends

"Hello everyone! I'm back with my girlfriend, Sara, her brother, Frankie, our friend Tino and today we'll be exploring an abandoned house!" Waiola sits on a ledge with her three friends, smiling widely at the camera set up.

"But that's not all!" Tino interrupts her surprise, jump scaring them all. Sara shoved at him, managing to knock him off the ledge they were on.

"That's right, as a bonus, we were going to explore some sewer tunnels, or at least that's what we think they are." The main host of the channel completes the surprise that Tino tried to ruin.

"So while there's still sun around, let's get to it!" Waiola cheers with her friends, all of them rushing the camera.

A transition into the next scene, edited beautifully by a good friend who would rather remain anonymous, revealed the gang walking in a line on a back road, trees decorating the edge of the frame. Chatter echoed a little, coming from these four teenagers. "Tino, you're a clown if I've ever seen one." And they were ganging up on Tino being the wildest one in the group.

"No, he's the whole circus, Way."

They giggle as Tino threatened them, "if you guys don't stop I'll have to remove your femurs, losers."

"Not if I do it first," Frankie's response was as fast as he heard it.

"Is that a threat?"

"No, it's a promise."

The four teenagers banter like this as the time passed, and not long came before a large house came into their line of vision. Waiola lifts the camera, zooming for a better look at it.

"For a bit of backstory, this house was built for, like, the mayor for our town, way back when it was built. About a hundred years or so, I think. But no one has lived in it for a good decade, for sure." Waiola starts to speak, almost as if it was natural information. Maybe it was.

"No abandoned house looks that good, I'm just saying." Frankie comments, the camera catching a concentrated boy pondering on the outward appearance of the house.

"It's kinda like a museum, Frank. You want tourism to have a leg to stand on? Have something old and touchable, maintain it. I'm just saying, the history teacher went over this like a few days ago." She told him, him rubbing his chin like a philosopher.

"Guys guys guys guys, get in the trees!" Sara hisses, pushing everyone into the wilderness beside them. Everyone panics but stays quiet, watching as an old car wheezes past their line of sight. Several minutes pass, the frame jumping to the scene of them walking again, but dodging trees in their way.

"Tell the viewers what happened, Tino," a voice that's not Waiola, presumably Frankie's, points the camera at the boy. He looks right into the lens as much as he cans, trying to talk in a quiet yet loud voice, if that makes sense.

"So, we found out that the car that passed by us is doing something at the mayor's house. However, because Frankie said we came out all the way out here we might as well-"

"-hold on, I said that? I'm pretty sure it was you, Tino."

"Pretty sure isn't fact, Franklin, and fact is you said that-"

"-Fact is you're a pussy-"

"-you said that we should continue."

Waiola smacks them both on the head, taking the camera away and facing it towards the whole group walking. "Someone complained about how far we came out, so we're going to commit a crime because they didn't want to leave without that. After that, sewers." She finished talking and the screen faded to a different picture.

A picture of the old, yet refined, house that was originally a mayor's home. The white has yet to be repainted, so it looks like an old pale yellow on the outside. Vines curl around the pillars supporting the porch roof. The porch steps seemed to have sported thousands of feet, whether that is true or not, that's left to the porch steps. Window panes gathered dust, or better yet, the window frames are left paneless. The roof looked like someone belly-flopped out of the sky and onto the poor thing.

Needless to say, withering with class.

A shot of the group of friends flashes onto the frame, posing in front of a sign, Carmine Cabins, the official name of the lot.

It transitions over to silent footage of the girls peeking over the bushes, spotting no cars sitting in the gravel. "Alright, we'll check the place for outside cameras, Tino, hold the camera." With that, Waiola and Sara run, ducking well beneath the green hedges surrounding it.

Frankie pulls out puns out of his ass for a solid minute or two before they return, panting ever so slightly. Sara catches her breath first, "no cameras, an opening behind the house, but I'm pretty sure someone is inside."

Tino and Frankie share a look, "you sure there's a person in there?"

"Even if its not fact, I thought I heard someone. Then again, it could've been y'all two I was hearing." Sara started to doubt herself, checking the fresh memory in her brain but everyone starts moving before she's comfortable in that self-doubt.

They try not to crunch too many leaves or branches, but sometimes it can't be helped. Neither can Tino's smartass, apparently, as Waiola smacked him for the third time that day.

"So if we can get in there, then that'll be step one of this be gay do crime agenda, and we can satisfy one demographic of my followers." She flashes a thumbs up to the camera, pointing the camera at her friends as they pull themselves into the house through a somewhat large window. She hands it to her girlfriend, and she slips through as well.

"We're going to have to be quiet for now, so, sorry for no commentary." Waiola whispers, winking at the camera and it fades to a black screen.

The black screen evolves into a scene where Waiola is pointing the camera at Frankie, who's face was utter fear. He mouths some words she doesn't catch. He then makes a running gesture and she agrees, everyone following in suite, quietly though of course. As Tino, the last one to jump out of the window, hits the ground, a shot is released in the air.

"Run!" They shout at him in whispers, dashing for it in the direction of the nearby sewers.

Waiola's lungs burned in her chest, not able to swallow or breathe, and her legs wanted to fall off but they can do that when they're ankle-deep in shit-water. The camera has a view of swinging, thanks to Frankie's expert handling of the camera.

She hears another shot go off, and she ushers them to head down the sloping hill, into the sewer tunnel. Grass is ripped up as they slide down and splash not so gracefully into the tunnel, hiding out in there. They all cover their mouths, leaning against the sewer walls, a little reluctantly.

The group hears one more shot in the distance, before Waiola motions for them to pull out their flashlights out of their packs.

"Alright, time for some sewer exploring, wish us luck!" Waiola smiles tiredly at the camera.

The scene fades seamlessly into a shot of Sara leaning against the wall, holding her leg, and Waiola, the dutiful lover, is worrying over her like mad. "Are you sure we can keep going?" She asks, turning to look over her shoulder to shout at the boys.

"Its a cramp, Way, not some open wound fermenting in sewer water."

"Still! We should be cautious," with that, Waiola then had Tino carry her knapsack while she carried her girlfriend. Yes, she cringed when her wet shoes touched her legs but it was worth it to her, knowing she wasn't hurting herself.

"Alright, I'm tired of this shit."

"Haha, too bad. You're the one who said we had to go to the house, you get to suffer." Tino pouted, flashing the pathway with two flashlights.

The screen fades again, but this time, they're out of the sewers and on the road again, but they're in town, well, the old version of it. "Okay," Waiola huffs, seeming to be in a mood, "the boys were complaining, and what with the guy with the gun, we decided twenty minutes walking in the sewers was enough for the day. Be back in a second with the outro!" She pants, flashing a peace sign at the camera Frankie was holding.

And the screen did black out completely this time, and it was just Waiola and Sara in her backyard, lying in a hammock, napping peacefully for a minute. Then, Waiola gets out, kissing the girl's forehead before grabbing the camera and focusing it on her.

"The boys went home, Sara's staying the night, and I guess that was it? Anyways, thank you guys for watching!" Waiola spews out her outro and when she stopped recording, she let out a breath, returning to her girlfriend's welcoming arms.

"Boys are dumb." She mumbles, and Sara all but nods, leaving the two to their nap.

#if they were human #IF #and everyone could show up on camera #here's the mischeif they'd get up to #waiola #sara #frankie #tino #vampires but theyre humans gang #writing

0 notes