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kleinundscharf · 1 year

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Forbidden things

One night Reader stumbles upon Ominis soundly sleeping in a Slytherin common room and things take an unexpected turn.

Tags: Ominis x MC, MC POV, Dark Gryffindor!MC, MC female but this chapter i guess can be gender ambiguous since use of POV, mentioned use of Unforgivable Curses.

Word Count: 2402

Authors Note: This is a first chapter to a series. I will be re-reading and fixing minor mistakes before posting on AO3. For now I just really wanted to post it here, while writing this full length novel. This is my first fanfiction, English is not my first language, yada-yada, be gentle with me pls

Things that are supposed to be forbidden taste good.

That’s why when opportunity arises you learn forbidden curses one by one. But you are not like Sebastian and you know when not to cross the line. Maybe your line stands further than for Ominis but it is still present. You can feel it.

First things first, after learning Cruciatus you hop on your broom and fly to the closest goblin camp to test it. To say those screams full of unbearable pain caused by your first unforgivable aren’t a delight to your ears would be a lie.

Then you learn Imperius curse. Surely, you manage to weasel your way out of the catacombs without casting it on Ominis. That would be far beyond the line you’ve drawn. “I would never hurt him” you think, but you know that’s a lie. If only he had known what are you up to and what measures are you using he would be hurt, yet you don’t stop. You use Imperio on various enemies, trying to get the taste of it. Is it worth it? The twisted pleasure of making your enemies kill their allies is definitely pours over you heart like the most delicious honey.

You learn the last spell out of sheer curiosity. That one is somehow the least exciting of all. The thing is - you get off the fight, you savor it. It makes your heart beat faster with excitement. The killing curse is lacking in that department. If anything it stops the game you love playing so much. So you try it once - just to know that you are still a diligent student and of course it works perfectly. And then you never use it again.

Maybe if it happen to be the only thing between your own life and death but usually there are plenty of other options standing between those two.

As time passes you grow weary of pained screams, excitement of bending someone’s will slowly fades. You find your self wanting to finish the fight in the most efficient ways and move on to other things, the ones that matter right now, the ones that excite you more.

Another factor to it is as of late you seem to never be alone. There’s always Ominis, Poppy, Natty, Amit or someone else present. In those social situations you prefer to go for “socially approved” spells, especially as you are trying rather carefully to preserve a certain appearance.

You were never captivated by dark arts like Sebastian was. And you saw what have become of him. What that love did to him. Maybe forbidden things shall stay forbidden if they have power to destroy us, you thought. And brushed away that thought.

Because to you nothing felt forbidden. Not curses, not curfew, not casually slipping into common rooms of each house. All felt natural and simple with no consequences. Nothing to weight you down.

Until that one time.

It was the middle of your 7th year, and even as the days were starting to grow longer, it surely didn’t feel like it. Especially since at nighttime you felt more and more anxious about upcoming changes.

You knew that soon enough school days will be over and you will be roaming free. Not bound by the place or people, not really. You’ve saved enough money for comfortable living but you wanted more. You never wanted to be just comfortable, of course. You wanted to indulge, to spoil yourself, as you deserved. And that demanded more recourses than you’ve had. Those thoughts were unpleasant and on certain nights haunting.

It was one of those nights, so before you’ve settled for lying in bed, restless and your mind pacing - you found yourself in front of Slytherin common room’s entrance.

You’ve slipped inside like you belonged here, like you did hundred times before - Sebs, Ominis and Imelda were amongst your closest friends after all. And nobody in the house really cared much - most of Slytherins considered rules that school tried to implore on students as a nuisance nonetheless.

You’ve found your way here because tonight you felt like watching that mesmerizing underwater visage. It always made you feel somewhat peaceful, just like flying did, and on that particular night you didn’t feel like flying. Tonight you felt drawn here.

To your delight Slytherin common room was almost completely empty due to ungodly hour, most students were in their bed for a quite some time, maybe apart from couple a few, slumbering in their chairs next to a fireplace. You easily followed familiar path to the window, settling in the chair right in front of it. You weren’t the only person with refined taste, so it was an obvious choice for furniture arrangement to align with idea of admiring the view.

Sometimes you even wished to attend this house but you knew that would be inconvenient for your cause. It would draw more attention to things you were up to, it would inevitably make people question your motives. And you were trying to escape prying eyes, after all.

You knew your house suited you better anyway - being calculated just for the sake of greater good(even your own selfish good) was never your strongest suit per se. You rushed head first for things your heart wanted at the moment, for all things maybe except one.

As you nestled in a comfortable armchair, staring at the scenery outside a window, lost in your thoughts about things to come - you’ve felt a minor commotion on the sofa, the one positioned next to another window, furthest from the entrance. Maybe someone was having a restless night as well.

Suddenly you’ve felt less comfortable, like someone was intruding on your own private moment. And your sense of tranquility started to gradually dissolve.

Maybe it was a night for flying after all? Or maybe a night for crashing some of your friend’s beds? Sure they wouldn’t mind. You and Imelda often spent time in each other’s sheets, especially on the nights before early flying or after late night flights, it were just natural to not go separate ways.

As you started to move towards the exit you gave a quick glance to that corner window once more and froze in your place, realizing that person on the sofa was sleeping. And that person in fact was your friend Ominis.

You felt a shiver of excitement going through your body, since the situation was not something common, not in the slightest. It was not usual for your dear friend to spend the night outside of his bedroom. As far as you knew, of course.

And even if it was, for you to come across him in that situation, vulnerable and exposed, was strange without a doubt.

All those times you’ve visited - most of them had purpose, plan, something, hangout or a party, company or goal. Rarely you alone, wandering. So, in your 3 years in Hogwarts that this situation has occurred for the first time.

And truths be told, things that are out of ordinary tend to excite us the most. First times are usually the ones that stay with us forever, no matter how small they are.

Of course, you wouldn’t just leave him here, pretending like it never happened. Maybe you should wake him and tell him to go to his own bed. Or maybe you should cast some blanket. Either way, contemplating any of those choices, you came closer.

Moments later you’ve found yourself squatting in front of him, studying the face you supposedly knew so well. With his eyes closed and that line between his brows relaxed he seemed really calm and relaxed, almost serene. You found yourself thinking how that look was vastly different from his everyday appearance, but you couldn’t quite put a finger on what exactly was different at first. Upon reflecting upon it you settled for a conclusion that most likely it was the lack of usual politeness this boy carried everywhere with him. Boy. Your lips twitched forming a subtle smile at that passing thought.

He was a boy when you’ve met him. Pretty back then, without a doubt, but now, studying his face thoroughly, in a comfort of being left unattended, you realized actually how much he has grown into his features. Some edges got sharper and some rounded up, his hair were slightly longer and fell on his face, framing it perfectly. He had slight bags under his eyes you never noticed before. All that NEWTs studying, you assumed, were taking it`s toll.

Green moonlight, contorted by the thick body of water, and dim lighting suited him. That’s on being of descendants of Salazar himself, you smiled again at the thought.

Just the view of him so vulnerable and defenseless made you feel strange surge of tenderness bubbling inside.

He always was the only one to make you question your morals. He was the only one who actually made you reflect upon your actions, made you consider if your next move will hurt him.

You knew that you couldn’t pass on Unforgivables at the time, stakes were high and you sure weren’t letting a tiniest chance for your defeat, no matter what cost. Your concerns about his bad experiences with people like you came second.

Somehow when it came to everyone else around you it just felt different. When you consciously didn’t use curses in front of you occasional companions you felt like hiding the truth from them was simple, casual, like breathing. An obvious choice that never bothered you one bit. And it never bothered you what they would think, what they would feel if they knew, if the forbidden curse would escape your mouth on accident. You would dissolve that situation, find the right words, convince them of your cause or beg them to forgive your mistake. Or you would give up on their friendship if that didn’t work out. Imagining that turn of events never made you break a sweat.

Ominis, on the other hand, made you slow down in your rapidly deteriorating choices whenever they occurred. He made you doubt if you should go down that path. And doubt is a luxury you couldn’t afford.

Long story short, with him things always felt different, like you were hiding the truth not for the sake of convenience, but because you actually were terrified of hurting him. And losing his graces. Because you couldn’t mend his vies on dark arts and couldn’t lose him. Hiding your true self from him never felt easy like with the others, it always felt complex and heavy.

And that is why you never pushed your friendship any further. Avoided opportunities to take one more step and turn things into something more, to be romantically involved, to hold each other tighter. You`ve settled for him being your dearest friend. Because just that would prove painful enough if turned sour.

When you let someone into your heart it complicates things. People become part of you and if they were to be detached - so would go that part, piece of raw flesh ripped apart. Closer you get, more vulnerable you are. And you wanted to be stronger.

Of course, all of that didn’t came in an instant. When you first met him you were deeply astonished how easy it was play him. You always said the right words and here he was, exactly where you wanted him, you didn’t feel a hint of remorse. He was just a scrawny kid who held some keys you required. You didn’t concern yourself with establishing meaningful connections, you weren’t a Hufflepuff after all. It’s only goals that mattered. And playing him was just one of those measures to achieve them.

But you two inevitably grew closer and you felt yourself slowly surrender to the routine, your heart softening up. Sixth year was tame and you’ve allowed yourself to spend more time doing basic student stuff. Seeking comfort in reassuring words and human warmth. Occasionally, strong hands hands holding you tight and warm lips kissing you with desire and need. Not him, of course, but someone else, someone safe. Someone who you would never fall for. No harm done, just a moment of physical pleasure, in won`t make scales around your heart fall off, you reassured yourself at times.

When your mind resurfaced from all those heavy thoughts you were still blankly staring at the young man in front of you. Minutes have passed and you had no idea how many.

Your hand reached out his face, as to figure out his temperature, just in case. He looked and felt fine, so you gently stroked his hair, traced his cheek with your fingers and then in one swift motion eliminated the distance that separated you two, touching the corner of his lips with yours, surprising even yourself with that gesture.

Not a romantic kiss on the lips without asking for permission, something far more tame that would be allowed with a privilege of being his close friend. But still felt miles further from any friendly peck on the cheek that wouldn’t raise an eyebrow.

It felt exciting and it felt right and yet it felt like something was breaking .

If you were to snuck into his warm embrace and spend the night like that, tangled, nobody would have ever questioned it. He would be maybe slightly surprised how you got here, but in the end it wouldn’t change a thing. You were friends after all. And that allowed room for a certain closeness.

But you didn’t settle for that, acting on impulse, rushing your hear first.

It dawned on you what you have done.

Crossing the line you’ve drawn yourself so carefully, prominent line between you too, between friendship and something more.

It wasn’t rules or curfews or laws you brushed off with such ease, completely disregarding them. Because it wasn’t the other people who forbade it but yourself. And that’s the one that mattered, the one that actually existed and felt real. You tasted the forbidden thing that actually felt like one for the first time.

At lightning speed you got up, trying to make as little noise as possible and hastily made your escape. As you were leaving you finally knew what forbidden things taste like. After all, what are forbidden things, if not something we continue to crave for, even while knowing we shouldn’t.

#hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt #ominis #hogwarts legacy player character #ominis x player character #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #ominis x oc #ominis x mc #ominis x you #hphl fanfiction

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fumikomiyasaki · 9 months

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🏊: Ember and Fabio

🌳: Shirrira and Odel

🎦: Chizuko and Flynn

Summer Heat

🏊: our muses go swimming at the lake

He was glad this day Zariyah could take over his duty so he could get out of the dorm for the day yet he was still unsure how to approach this. Despite his height and strong look he lacked the confidence in himself and in general so although he was excited to go swimming with Ember who he had a crush on he barely knew how to get his feelings across or how to show her that he cared. He arrived at the lake bringing her as gift a novel Izar didn't need anymore as she thanked him and packed it away... yet as he approached the water she noticed him being nervous.

"Can't you swim?"

"N-no I can.... its just often hard to tell how cold it will be."

She looked up at him and then gave a nod.

"We can go in slowly... I don't mind waiting as long as you are ready."

Eventually they moved forward but in shock Fabio accidentally grabbed her hand and apoligized yet she didn't let go.

"If you worry then keep holding it... I don't mind it."

"Even if m-my height strains it."

"Its alright."

He blushed a little but then continued to go into the water with her... eventually getting used to the cold and smiling even...

"Fabio, say why did you want to go with me off all people?"

"Um... I like spending time with you... and I thought maybe this way.... you get a break as well from all the things you have to do."

A calm smile appeared on her face, one where his ears couldn't help but waggle curiously.... He never knew what she really thought of him but he wanted to make sure she felt comfortable around her... as he was in thoughts however he noticed her swimming closer and blushed even more.

"Your feelings are plenty obvious."

Suddenly he felt his forehead going warm just to notice that she placed a small kiss on his forehead, swimming away and getting confused about what just happened...

"W-wait for me."

He was unsure if what he just witnessed was his fantasy or actually if it happened however for now he was just glad to spend time with her a little... maybe another day he would find the courage to actually speak up to her about his obvious crush.

🌳: our muses look for some shade

The Sun was high, many streets were busy, however Odel knew it would be much more comforting to get a break in the forrests from the weather... especially cause he made a promise with Shirrira to take her on a walk to the forrest he described to her before... eventually among the exhausting sunlight the finally got embraced by the shade of a small secluded leafy path to their destination, as she had an arm around his to walk with him.

"The spirits voices sound calm and peacefull... but I feel one disrupting it."

"Really but... Oh no... I can guess who it is."

In quick sucession both got disturbed in their peace by Odels personal Shinigami Ame.... who posed cutely before handing him some stones.

"I thank you for finishing the errand but you couldn't have picked a worse timing."

"But Odi... I wanted to have some praise, aren't you proud of cute little me."

He groaned in annoyance and petted her head.

"Fine you did well but I would still ask you to leave, I am busy as you see."

"Alrighty then, freetime for me."

With a big smile the Shinigami exited the stage as Shirrira looked up at him.

"Who was-"

"She is... part of my power is all... I am sorry she disrupted the peace."

Suddenly he heard a cute chuckle from her that got him to show a small smile.

"She is one energetic spirit for sure..."

He opened his hand and quickly casted a small spell before handing what he held to her.

"Actually she just brought the gift i had for you. Around the right time."

She felt him bring a necklace around her neck with a beautifull blue stone hanging from it. A bit of red hinted on her face.

"Its wonderfull... thank you."

"Its as beautifull as you... I hope you will keep close."

She showed him a small smile and nodded before putting her arm in his again. "I shall."

And so they walked deeper into the forrest together. Sharing some nice chats before they have to get back to their dorms.

-----------------------------

🎦: our muses go to an air-conditioned theater

"Urgh do you really have to see this movie?"

"But Onyx, I was busy and its only screening today, this might be my only chance to see it on screen."

As usual he was dramatic about his proposal to a date but eventually Chizuko gave in so in return he would keep quiet for the rest of the day and so they both got settled on that movie he wanted to see so bad. The theater was a blessing compared to the heat outside and in doubt if the movie was boring she still had her notes with her to write in between....

They sat on a couples seat together as the movie started... Flynn invested into the story and analysing every detail yet after 30 minutes he suddenly noticed her leaning her head on his shoulder and dozing off... it was true cause of writing she got barely any sleep left... to make her comfortable like a blanket he put his feathery arm around her to keep her close.

Eventually after 30 more minutes he woke up into the climax of the movie as Flynn gave her a small smirk.

"Seems my sleeping beauty is awake, its almost over, soon I can give you some freedom from this."

She rubbed her eyes and shook her head.

"I already owe you 30 minutes cause I fell asleep, I guess I can spend that much time with you."

"You are too sweet my Onyx, my de-"

"Pshh the movie."

As he was shut down by a viewer the both stayed holding hand during the ending before walking out together... Flynn using the rest of the time to nerd a little about the movie as she calmly listened.

#twisted wonderland oc #twst oc #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland ocs #twst #disney twst #twst ocs #twistedwonderland #twistedwonderlandoc #fabio vierunar #fabio x ember #odel aradia #odel x shirrira #flynn deradelle #flynn x chizuko

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utilitycaster · 2 years

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001: TAZ (Specifically interested TAZ Balance takes but if you wanna mix in Amnesty or the mini arcs between the two go for it!)

002: Percy/Vex (I'm sure you've talked about about them a ton, but as a bit of a new follower I'd love to hear your opinions) 003: Fig Faeth (or if you haven't seen Fantasy High, your pick of Dimension 20 characters)

below a cut simply bc this shall be long as fuck

TAZ Balance

Favorite character: Lucretia

Least Favorite character: none really;

5 Favorite ships (canon or non-canon): I feel there were not really five ships in this but like, naturally, Lup/Barry and Taako/Kravitz were both a delight

Character I find most attractive: I mean, probably Magnus.

Character I would be best friends with: I want to hang out with Carey and Killian

An unpopular opinion: I think TAZ Balance is very good and I love the graphic novels and all that but I do still think that Amnesty was stronger and deserves more accolades.

Most Badass Character: Lup, this is not a question

Most Epic Villain: I guess John? The main antagonist is like,

Favourite Friendship: the Taco Twins

Character I most identify with: Lucretia, for better or for worse. I do not think I am a well-intentioned extremist irl but I think in a D&D story I could absolutely fall into that.

Character I wish I could be: Davenport but after his memory is restored and he's just a sea captain

Percy/Vex

When I started shipping them: hard to say in that I went into C1 knowing how the general ships shook out. I do remember loving their interaction when Percy first tells VM about the Briarwoods and Vex immediately is like "oh this is 100% our problem now too",

What makes me happy about them: everything. My ideal for fictional romances is truly "we are flawed in the same way, but through each other we can see how we are worthy of love despite that" so like, this is my fucking jam.

What makes me sad about them: not much, honestly! lifespan angst was made up by mediocre fanfic writers to sell more mediocre fanfic.

Things done in fanfic that annoys me: nothing specific to them; in general I am a very "he would not fucking say that" person when it comes to fanfic so getting the voices right is crucial, but that's always true for any ship.

Things I look for in fanfic: see above; get the voices right.

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: I mean, they are perfect for each other and no other ships for either of them compare, but I would not be mad at Percy/Tary or Vex/Zahra.

My happily ever after for them: they've got it! Percy just wants to do weird science in a workshop while a competent partner does all the political work; Vex wants the security that power grants her after a childhood and young adulthood of profound instability and emotional abuse, and both want someone who loves even their more vengeful and complicated side, and that's what they're doing!

Fig Faeth

How I feel about this character: She is great. Love how Emily leaned into Angry Teen in a way that felt real and understandable.

Any/all the people I ship romantically with this character: Ayda

My favorite non-romantic relationship for this character: I mean, all the bad kids, but Riz and Kristen are some of my favorites. Also her relationship with Gilear is wonderful.

My unpopular opinion about this character: None really?

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: Nothing specific other than "please give us a third season one day, please d20 cast, please"

Favorite friendship for this character: Probably Riz; Emily and Murph as players are hilarious in that they NEVER explore romantic chemistry despite being irl married, but their characters almost always end up really good friends.

#answered #Anonymous #long post #ask meme #cr tag

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hunxi-after-hours · 3 years

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lol I am so glad someone else shares my salt about how much ZZS’s character got fucked over in the last few eps. and honestly a lot of what happened was OOC for WKX too, like you said their whole relationship is build on mutual trust and openness and then their whole ending is based on a series of pointless lies to each other??? why????

sdlfksjdlfkj I don’t want to like, bring negativity into what was a very joyous text for the first thirty-some episodes, but actually I am So Mad about what the final six episodes do to Zhou Zishu

throwing everything else below a cut, beware of SHL spoilers

so! so. let’s go back to episode fucking one of this show. we meet Zhou Zishu. he is a ball of angst wrapped up in the skin of a deadly assassin armored in the black cloak of a powerful commander of the prince of Jin’s secret police or whatever. the first thing he does is kill a good man. the next thing he does is pressure a young woman into drinking poison. the third thing he does is execute one of his loyal subordinates in a manner that may be mutually consensual but still horrific to witness.

so we’re like. oh shit. who is this dude. are we...supposed to like him? and then. and then Zhou Zishu walks into the imperial court and goes to his knees before his prince and his liege and asks to be relieved from service. no, he doesn’t ask--he forces the decision, because he has already taken the act of justice upon himself, and has been inflicting unspeakable pain and punishment on his body for, oh, the past fifteen months

and we go oh. Oh? because suddenly this person who seemed like a cold-blooded killer when we first met him is showing grief, and vulnerability, and guilt, and doubt. we find out that Zhou Zishu has done all of these horrible things in the name of loyalty, in the name of service, but even then, his conscience still speaks out too strongly against the supposedly noble project that he has taken uncountable lives for. so he takes, in his eyes, the only way out--he gifts himself a long and painful death. he carves the beginning of a slow torment into his bones. he goes to live out his last years in a haze of misery and alcohol.

that is where we start.

this is the first element of plot and characterization we’re introduced to--Zhou Zishu is the main character, and his emotional journey from resigned-to-impending-death to actually-I-want-to-live-because-now-I-have-people-I-would-live-for is one of the most powerfully moving parts of the entire show. look, I love Wen Kexing and his complex revenge plots and impeccable sense of style and flair for the dramatic and his quiet moments of vulnerability and care, but Zhou Zishu is the heart of the story, and I will die on this hill

so much of 《山河令》 is about two men who were ready to die for their crimes finding out that there are still things in the world they would live for. it is a story about the nature of forgiveness, especially self-forgiveness; it is about reaffirming the belief that, despite all the evil and darkness and despair in the world, life is beautiful and wonderful and still worth living

and up to episode 30 or so, Zhou Zishu’s journey is so goddamn compelling--he grudgingly gets drawn back into jianghu affairs. he is dragged--kicking and grumbling and rolling his eyes--into caring about other people, and letting other people care about him. he is talked back into wanting to live again.

(he goes home)

Zhou Zishu is making strides on this journey of healing and self-acceptance and even the tentative beginnings of hope and joy, when his past comes back for him with knives and blood and teeth

and this? this was masterful. I loved the drama of Zhou Zishu walking out from the gates of his manor. his refusal to be cowed despite his capture. the knowing and willing sacrifice he makes to protect his newly-found loved ones. and his commitment to surviving, to doggedly hanging on long enough for Wen Kexing to ride in with the rescue. Zhou Zishu walks into imprisonment and certain torture with his head held high, knowing that he might not come out of this alive but his heart at ease because this is a sacrifice he is choosing to make, to defend and protect those he cares about

this is a sacrifice with meaning.

okay. jump forward to the end of episode 32, after Wen Kexing has swan dived off a goddamn cliff and Zhou Zishu jumped after him. I’m not going to get into my salt about Ye Baiyi right now (but trust me, I have it), but after Zhou Zishu wakes up again to find that Wen Kexing is still dead and everything still bitterly wrong, he returns to the cliff and goes nuclear. he writes a time limit into his body and, in a grief-fueled rage, makes the decision to avenge Wen Kexing with what little time he has left

and of course Wen Kexing isn’t dead; of course this was all an elaborate deception, and good for Wen Kexing--he gets very public closure! he gets to destroy Zhao Jing and chew out the rest of the jianghu for being hypocritical assholes! everyone is happy and drinking wine over dinner together!

except where does that fucking put Zhou Zishu, huh??? where does that put Zhou Zishu’s greatest sacrifice thus far??? it renders his actions utterly meaningless; it means he has hastened his death to no end

this rankles especially because remember? Zhou Zishu has only recently regained the will to live. and now he’s shortened his lifespan again for literally no reason

he’s quiet and upset at that celebratory dinner but he keeps it in; he doesn’t want to ruin the good mood--Wen Kexing seems genuinely happy for once--and then there is the wedding. There are so many good things happening for the people he loves, he doesn’t want to rain on their parade with, y’know, his impending death, which again, he accelerated for no goddamn reason because he wasn’t let in on Wen Kexing’s schemes

(look I don’t mind that Zhou Zishu was left out of the loop for whatever reasons you’d like, in-universe or dramatic--all I ask is that you deal with the emotional fall-out of that deception. so much of the relationship negotiation between Zhou Zishu and Wen Kexing revolves around trust and understanding; Zhou Zishu takes the first leap and trusts Wen Kexing with his true identity. Wen Kexing agonizes over his identity and backstory, and when it comes out in the messiest, ugliest way possible, Zhou Zishu is there for him)

anyway I’m like, okay with all of this convoluted plotting? as long as they address the fall-out of Zhou Zishu’s invisible sacrifices. but do they? nope. I mean, to be fair, a lot of shit goes down very suddenly (when I said that if there was a wedding it was going to be crashed because of genre logic I meant it as a JOKE--), so there are extenuating circumstances, I get it, but Zhou Zishu decides to take his remaining days and go do something noble. which is. idk how I feel about it thematically but whatever--the important thing is that he makes this choice

Zhou Zishu doesn’t really have many choices in his life, so I am very invested in the fact that he chooses to give up his life to do the right thing. it’s! his! choice! fucking! respect that! my dudes!

and then ??????? stuff happens, he and Wen Kexing are locked in an ice library, they do an experimental medical cultivational procedure (wow doesn’t that sound familiar) and we get the reveal when they’re halfway through and can’t stop that Wen Kexing knows that this procedure will kill him in the process of granting Zhou Zishu immortality and I’m--

what???? literally what???? the fuck???? Wen Kexing??? why??? would you do that???

Wen Kexing acknowledges that he is taking the selfish, cowardly way out--he would rather die bringing Zhou Zishu back to life than live without Zhou Zishu. and I’m like. sure. thanks. you acknowledged that. you went ahead and did it anyway. you didn’t just consign Zhou Zishu to living with the guilt of your life on his hands, you consigned him to an eternity of it

Wen?? Kexing???? a literal murder-suicide would have been kinder?????

whatever. whatever. the extra episode is like, a sloppy fix-it in the sense that it kind of handwaves everything and goes “they’re immortal and magic and living happily on an ice mountain together!” and that is literally the exact same move that the Harry Potter series pulls with its “nineteen years later all was well” and the Hunger Games film trilogy with “sunlit Katniss with a baby” and I’m like, thanks, you didn’t resolve shit, but they’re alive and bantering and fighting in front of this poor kid who just came here for some instruction and I’m just like--

where is the knock-down drag-out fight about the repercussions of their actions!!!! where is the yelling and the betrayal and the heightened emotions!!! where is Wen Kexing yelling “I couldn’t stand to lose you” and Zhou Zishu shouting back “do you think I could stand to lose you either????” where are these two disasters negotiating the absolute mess of the last four episodes??? where is it???

sdlfkjsk tl;dr they did Zhou Zishu dirty and I’m salty about it

#zero braincell jianghu #look I have very specific needs in my narrative so this particular iteration of this narrative did not work for me #I shall go find comfort in the novel I guess #shlspoilers

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2jaeh · 3 years

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5 things to do with you | renjun

your bookworm boyfriend renjun wants to recreate his favourite fictional romance.

genre: tooth rotting fluff

content: gender neutral!reader, brief mention of death

word count: 1.6k

author lin

"Did you really make a whole list?" You giggled as Renjun's brows scrunched together into a frown, his eyes scanning over his notes app.

"I don't want to miss anything," Renjun insisted in his soft, calming voice that made you smile, "everything has to go according to the book."

Five Things To Do With You by Xiao Dejun. That was the book to which your little literature major boyfriend was referring. It was the latest sappy romance novel he was obsessed with. He had convinced you to read it and basically each chapter was a different scenario that described what the protagonist wanted to experience with his lover, then at the end you find out that his lover actually died and they never got to live out everything he wanted. Sad, yes. Depressing, actually. But Renjun had insisted that you reminded him of the lover of the book - "minus the death part" he felt the need to emphasise - and he had the bright idea of recreating all the scenarios from the book with you.

You were, at first, very confused by his request, but then again you always found the way Renjun got so absorbed by fiction extremely charming. He was embarrassed by his love for " cringe fictional romance, but he could always feel comfortable to share that side with you. He had dragged you out of your apartment at 9am and now you were standing in the park down the road, grinning at the boy and watching him pull up his extremely detailed notes on the agenda for today.

1. I want to take you on a morning stroll

"Shall we?" Renjun gave you an adorable smile, holding his hand out to you.

You took his hand, interlacing your fingers, and began walking through the park. It was fairly quiet at this time, except for the birds happily chirping and a few children yelling at the playground some distance away. The grass was a lush green, there was a light, gentle breeze and flowers were blooming at a few spots since Spring was around the corner.

"This is nice." You sighed out a breath of fresh air and Renjun laughed lightly.

"Aren't you glad I begged you to come out today?" He smirked playfully before twirling you around.

"Do you think we're in some romcom right now?" You laughed, still feeling a bit dizzy from the sudden twirl as you held onto his arm for support.

"Just for today, let's pretend that we are." Renjun pouted adorably and you could only nod before planting a sweet peck on his lips.

"Anything and everything?" You pondered, your eyes absentmindedly looking at the menu in front of you.

2. I want us to eat anything and everything

"Well if we order everything our wallets will grow legs and kick my ass," Renjun joked, "we should just stick to some ridiculous desserts and not care about any consequences."

"You had me right at ridiculous," You chuckled, before pointing at the menu, "I'll have that gigantic oreo sundae, thank you."

Renjun stuck to his suggestion and also ordered a ridiculously sized chocolate cake sundae. You dug into your desserts, sneakily shoving your spoons into each other's glasses when the other wasn't paying attention. Once all your ice cream had disappeared, you sighed in contentment, slumping back in your seat and patting your abdomen in satisfaction. You turned your head forward and caught Renjun staring right at you, a dreamy smile on his face.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" You frowned.

"I'll tell you later," Renjun grinned before pushing his chair back, standing up, "for now I'll just say you're cute."

"You're cute too… I guess." You teased, laughing when Renjun gave you an offended look.

"You guess!?" He whined, pouting and turning his head when you came over to hold his arm.

"I was just joking," you sighed deeply, nuzzling your face into his shoulder, "now let's go you baby."

3. I want to try something that's scary for both of us

"Are you really scared of roller skating?" You gave Renjun an amused expression as he got ready to fight his case.

"Listen, the last time I was in a pair of roller skates I fell face first and Yangyang had to carry me off the rink." Renjun complained and you just nodded, finding his insistence adorable.

"It's okay, this time I'll be here to hold your hand." You teased him.

You both laced up your roller skates and got onto the smooth, wooden rink. As expected, Renjun was scrambling all over the place but at least he avoided falling over by securely locking his arm through yours. Fortunately the rink was only occupied by the guy at the front desk and a cleaner, so he wouldn't have to be too humiliated should he fall face first again. Once Renjun was more stable, you took hold of both his hands and guided him to the middle of the rink. He was still a bit shaky, but the grin on his face reassured you that he was enjoying himself.

You slowly let go of his hands and he frantically held his arms out for you to hold him again. You laughed lightly at his adorable reaction before skating closer to him, wrapping your arms around his torso. He immediately placed his arms over your shoulders and visibly got more comfortable.

"Sorry, I thought you weren't scared about falling now." You cooed as you held him close and maneuvered your bodies towards the railings.

"I'm not worried about falling," Renjun spoke with laughter in his voice, "I just wanted you to keep holding me."

4. I want to kiss you under the afternoon sunshine

"My apartment is closer, why couldn't we just go there." You grumbled, your legs already exhausted from walking for the past 15 minutes.

"Because the rooftop at my building is better," Renjun whined and you rolled your eyes, "there we can get that perfect sunset glow."

"Wow, you're so meticulous." You teased him and now it was his turn to roll his eyes.

You both shortly made your way to the apartment building in which Renjun resided. As you walked through the glass front doors, Renjun grabbed hold of your hand and began rushing you up the emergency stairs.

"Can't we take the elevator?" You called out to him as the boy continued to race up the stairs, dragging you along with him.

"It's under maintenance!" Renjun replied nonchalantly.

"Okay, so why are we running!?" You yelled just before Renjun swung open the metal door that led to the rooftop of the building.

"So we don't miss this.." Renjun replied with a satisfied smile, holding his arm out to gesture towards the sky that now had a beautiful orange tint; the clouds were still - almost as though they were painted - and the sun was almost disappearing in the distance.

"It's beautiful." You said breathlessly, your head held high as you took in the scenery surrounding you.

Renjun's hands came up to cup your face, tilting your head down to look at him. With no words exchanged, he pressed his lips to yours, his actions filled with so much love and passion that words could never explain. You felt him smile into the kiss until you heard his cute laughter fill your ears. He rested his forehead against yours and your heart fluttered at the loving smile on his face. The orange hue from the sky made him appear golden, glowing like the angel that he was to you.

"What's so funny?" You asked, the smile never leaving your face as well.

"It's just… I can't believe you willingly spent the day with me… like this… living out my cringe fantasies," Renjun laughed shyly, "even in the restaurant earlier I was thinking… who else would ever do that for me?"

"Well… I love you and all your quirks," You admitted, your eyes staring right back into his, "I love everything about you."

"Hey, you stole my moment," Renjun complained playfully, "but I love you too, all your quirks, everything about you..."

"Do you know why the protagonist's lover reminds me so much of you?" Renjun asked in a low voice.

"No, why?"

"The protagonist always describes them as someone who brings out the best in them, someone who helps them unleash their unapologetic real self," Renjun explained and you felt yourself overwhelmed with love, "that's what you do for me, by loving you, you make me love myself… because how can I not love myself when someone as incredible as you loves me?"

"God Renjun, I'm gonna start crying," you grimaced as you hid your face in the crook of his neck, "I really do love you so much, and it just warms my heart that I can help you realize what an amazing person you are."

Renjun tucked his hand under your chin and guided you to lift your head to look at him again. He pressed another sweet kiss on your lips and used his thumb to swipe away the stray tear that had escaped your eye.

"By the way," You started abruptly, your lips still hovering near his, "what's the fifth thing? I forgot."

"It's fine, we've already done it." Renjun shrugged before kissing away the small, confused frown that appeared on your face.

5. I want to tell you how I loved you and you were everything to me

#renjun #huang renjun #renjun x reader #renjun fluff #renjun scenarios #renjun imagines #renjun au #nct dream #nct dream fluff #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios #nct scenarios #nct #nct imagines #nct au #nct drabble

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introvert--weeb · 3 years

Note

Haiz!! Could I ask for a Tokyo revenger character match up?

I'm a 16 year old female who stands at 5 ft. I'm a Sagittarius and INTP-T. I'm pansexual/questioning but I don't have much of a preference.

My personality I'm a sort of ambivert leaning more on introvert side. I'm outgoing when I'm talking with my friends and depending on the day and where I am I can be really social, I guess u can say I know how to fake being social? I can say I'm bold with doing stuff on my own or with friends but not to other people. Like if someone asked me to try and climb a brick wall to the roof because they tossed their shoe on the roof I will (and have) but I can't for the life of me tell someone I like their shirt if ion know them. Under stress I react in 2 ways the first way I'm either really quiet and am scanning in my head or mumble all the ways on what to do about the situation I'm stressed about or the second way is me just stress cursing, which may sound like I'm mad or sumthin cause people have told me when I curse it's very aggressive.

I'm quite temperature sensitive especially during summer as my friends say. One minute I'd complain it's hot and a minute after we turn on the ac I'd complain it's cold, it's a problem I know. I have a low level of germophobia as in I sometimes can't stand to touch certain things like door handles or sit comfortably in the school cafeteria tables or the classroom seats that at one point I started to clean them. I struggle a lot when I type like ALOT that sometimes my words come out like this aonomw which would be someone or other times would be like this pan5h34 (panther) or I'd have trouble typing words like table and have to keep texting it till I get it right or give up. I also forget words exist like cake, or light switch ect. I'm also really competitive and have one sided competition that the other persondoesn't know about.

I'm very optimistically realistic yet also look at the bad side of things. Like I'd be like thinking of the good side of things then I'd think of the bad and it's just be a roller coaster of me loudly mumbling then yelling and rolling on the floor of why I thought of the bad. I also have ALOT of theories that I love to tell to those who I'm close with, I make a new theory every night. I also have all of weird 3 am thoughts but during the day.

Aesthetically I'm all over the place I mostly wear sweats or leggings with a jacket or hoodie because lowkey am insecure bout my body BUT I'm working on it. I usually have my hair down doing whatever it wants but when I want to style it I have it half up and half down with my bangs loosely curled.

My hobbies is mostly just reading books like novels, manhwas, mangas or watching anime. I like to play videogames especially with friends I mostly like to play first shooter games like COD, or horror multiplayer games, or also those tapping games just to pass the time. I also like to sing to music or practice singing and dancing to like kpop songs or I'd try and make choreos sumtime.

(*ˊᗜˋ*)ᵗᑋᵃᐢᵏ ᵞᵒᵘ for taking the time to read this, I'm sorry if it's too long I kinda got carried away 😅. If you end up doing this request take ur time, thank you and take care of urself.

Please bare with me on this one! There is a reason and it's mostly headcanon-y 😅❤️

You shall be matched with...

South Terano ❤️

Outside of the gang, I see South as being really caring and a softie for the person who had stolen his heart. A complete 180 from canon Terano. This is a personal headcanon and other headcanons are available.

So, back to the match-up. South had met you in a music store while he was searching for more classical records. Considering you were shorter than him, it was surprising that you had caught his eye but you had and now he couldn't take them off you.

It was as you entered the aisle that South occupied that he had decided to introduce himself. You were a little intimidated by the tattoos decorating his face but as he started a conversation about music, you slowly got more comfortable. The entire interaction had resulted in the tall blond getting your number and arranging a hang out for the next day. To say he was excited was an understatement.

Your first date would be a simple cafe trip since he felt a neutral place like that would be the best. After all, there was a minimal amount of background noise so he could ask you about yourself as much as he pleased, but it was also not entirely boring where he would struggle to entertain you when awkward moments arose. The entire hang out had you falling slowly for South and you were quick to agree to a second date.

A relationship with South is one where you feel protected. He hadn't told you he was the leader of a.gang until he felt you could handle the information. You were a little nervous around him at first but this quickly dissolved back to the normal comfortable interactions you were so used to.

South won't ever admit it, but he finds you adorable all the time. Like, he enjoyed the way you would mutter to yourself when you were deep in thought, how your texts could sometimes be full of typos, but he especially loved how you would tell him about all the theories you thought up of about anything. This boy would sit and listen with the biggest smile as he watched the way your eyes lit up as you explained the newest idea you had. His heart would melt and he would find it hard to not gather you up in his arms with how cute you were!

Once this boy finds out about your aversion to touching surfaces because of the germs, he would make sure you were comfortable at all times. Opens the doors for you, places his jacket on a seat so you can sit down, even carrying a pack of antibacterial wipes in his pockets at all times. No-one in Rokuhara Tandai knew about this and he would definitely keep it that way. After all, he is a feared leader. He didn't want to seem weak in front of those that follow him.

No-one can tell me that this boy does not game when he is at home relaxing. First person shooters are his go to as he feels this best relieves his stress. So finding out you also enjoyed playing video games, he would 100% play any game with you. Even bought a second controller so he always had one in his home for you.

It was by accident that South had heard you sing and saw you dance. He had come over to visit and you had lost track of the time. So once he had reached your door and opened it slightly, he had seen you lost in your music. South found the sight breathtaking and had decided to watch from the doorway until you finally noticed him. Would encourage you to continue the 'show' for him, a smirk dancing on his lips.

Requests are closed for match ups.

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers match up #match up requests #match up event #100 followers event #requested #south terano #terano south

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oshbluepacific · 3 years

Text

Anxious

Type: Angst/Fluff

Character: Park Chanyeol x Reader

Words Counted: 3k+

questions and request are available / masterlist

You don’t know why you were built like this. Socially, you aren’t active. You don’t like meeting new people. You don’t like being in a social events or even being in the crowd. You don’t like going to the mall because most of the people who goes there are the people who actually have friends to hang out with or work colleague to meet up with. You don’t start the conversation—you don’t like getting into a conversation with people. You avoid going to parties or even joining a club. You would much rather spend time at home, in your room, reading your favourite novel while listening to music and spend time with yourself.

On the other hand,

Park Chanyeol was the complete opposite of you.

He was everyone’s favorite person. The go-to call. The social butterfly, the most popular kid on campus. He could bring a room to life with his presence and personality with a snap of a finger. He could easily get along with people—new people—so fast. He loves to make people smile and laugh, maybe that’s one of the reason why people love him and all the girls would go head over heels for him.

But out of all the girls has been trying to get to him, all the text messages, all of those confessions, all of those bouquet of flowers and chocolates he received on the daily. He never really lay his attentions to any of it and he choose to date you.

The first time you actually talked to Chanyeol was because he needed your help with a class he was failing.

“Hey, (Y/N), right?” He asked, walking closer to your locker.

“Yeah, is something wrong?” You asked him, feeling yoru cheeks getting red as your heart races a marathon.

“Oh, nothing is wrong… Sorry if I startled you or anything.” He said, sounding cautious.

“N-no, it’s fine, I guess you just took my by surprise.” You laughed off, and he just gave you a warm smile.

“So, I’m failing Mr. Sun’s class pretty bad, and I know you’re the ace in the class, so, I was wondering if you could tutor me for a bit, just for like a couple of days until I get it all straight up.” He said.

You were surprised by his favor and you couldn’t give him an immediate answer, but he knew that he was giving you too much pressure.

“I’m sorry, if this came so sudden to you, you don’t have to give me the answer today, I’ll let you think about it—or don’t, if you already made up your mind on answering no, is totally fine too.” He said cooly.

“I’ll do it…” You answered him.

“Really?” He asked you, and you nodded your head.

“I don’t want to see other people fail, so I can hand you some of my notes, and if you have any questions about anything, you can just text me.” You told him. And you can see that light on his face as his smile grew.

“Really? Woah, that’s great thank you!”

From there, you both exchange phone numbers and he began texting you back on forth until there was a day where he didn’t get anything from your notes or even through your explanation. So you both decided to meet up somewhere.

You remembered that you were wearing a pair of black pants with a gray knitted cardigan over your white t-shirt. You remembered the sky was grey as if it was going to rain that day. You remembered how happy Chanyeol was to see you. He was wearing a pair of black jeans and a black hoodie over his beige coat. You never really pay attention to him, but you found him very attractive that day.

He slowly try his best to keep you comfortable in the conversation as you both walked the street. Buying coffee on the way, visiting various of places until you both actually got to the place where he had plan on taking you.

He took you to his favorite place which was also your favorite place; the library. Both of you eventually got to know each other really well during this meeting, and you taught him all the things he had been missing out on, and he was so happy that you’re having a good time with him. When it was time to go home, he insisted on walking you back to your place because it was getting dark and he was worried about you, so you gave in.

”I really had a great time with you Chanyeol, thank you.” You smiled at him.

“Don’t mention it, I should be the one that thank you.” He winked and you felt your cheeks getting red as you giggled.

“We should do this again sometimes!” He said, and he saw how surprised you were but you smiled at him.

“That would be nice.” You told him.

After 4 to 5 more “dates” with Chanyeol, he finally asked you to be his girlfriend. You thought about it long and hard before saying yes to him. You can’t even imagine yourself, someone like Park Chanyeol dating a girl like you. A guy who loves social activity, dating somone who avoids and dread them.

The first first two months of your relationship was rocky, because most of the time you were doubting him, and you were just so insecure about yourself that you thought to yourself, you don’t even deserve to be with Chanyeol. He reminded you that he loves you on the daily, he always make time for you, when people—mostly girls—try to drag you down, he would always make you look the other way, and kept reminding you that they’re just jealous, until eventually you don’t care about what other people say about you or about your relationship with Chanyeol anymore.

He the rock in your life. The living, breathing constant thing, that knows you inside and out.

“Hey, I was wondering…” He said suddenly, shifting his position.

You were planning on going out to see a movie, but it suddenly rained as you got to Chanyeol’s place, so he decided to stay in and enjoy Netflix instead.

And you couldn’t complain there.

“What?” You asked, turning your attention to his face.

“So my best friend just opened his new coffee shop in town, I want to go there with you, and you know… Maybe introduce you to my friends.” He said.

You stared at him for a brief moment before you could draw your eyes back to the TV screen.

“It’s a small place, so there not going to be a lot of people.” He added in.

“What if people sees us? I mean, what if someone talks bad about us?” You asked him.

“Then let them talk, and I know deep down you don’t believe any of the things people say about us… correct?” You nodded your head. “Good.” He smiled, kissing your temples. “You’re going to love the place—and the coffee too!” He said excitedly. You can’t help but to smile over his excitement, when really you were pushing all of your anxiety away.

“Are you ready?” Chanyeol asked, as he could feel your presence coming out of you room. He was stunned to see you in a pair of black tight jeans and long sleeves turtleneck. Your hair tied into a bun and keeping your make-up to the lightest.

“I can’t find my jacket, I think I left it at your place the last time—“ “Stop talking right now, because I want to come near you and I want to hug you.” He said, wrapping his arms around you.

“What…?” You asked confusedly, looking up to him.

“You look beautiful today.” He smiled warmly, and you could feel your smile grew from ear to ear, he leaned down pressing his lips to yours as you wrap your arms around your neck.

“Thank you…” You thanks him as his lips parted from you.

He pulled away from the hug before taking off his jacket off and putting it on you.

“Wear mine.” He told you. “You still look beautiful in it.”

Even though his jacket were always too big for you, but you always find them comfortable to wear.

“Okay, now that we got that out of the way…” He clapped his hands together before walking towards the door.

“Shall we?”

You couldn’t help but to admire the little place. It was small, yet felt warm. The smell of fresh coffee, the sizzle of the steamers and just the sound of distant and small chattering in the room didn’t make you feel bothered at all.

“Park Chanyeol! I’m glad you could make it!” A tall man wearing brown apron approached from the bar.

“Oh Sehun! Of course I came!” Chanyon said happily before they exchange handshakes.

“Oh right—Sehun, this is my girlfriend (Y/N)!” Chanyeol introduced you as he put his arm around you.

You lift your hand, giving Sehun a small, shy smile.

“Ah… So this is the (Y/N) I’ve heard so much about, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Sehun smiled warmly to you, bowing his head slightly.

“Go pick a seat, drinks on me today, what are you having?” He asked.

“I’ll have Americano.” Chanyeol answered him.

“For you?” Sehun asked you.

“I’ll just have a vanilla latte.” You answered him.

“Right on.” Sehun then went back to the bar before both of you could choose an empty seat next to the window.

“So… how are you liking the place?” Chanyeol asked as he took a seat.

“This place is nice, I love it here.” You told him truthfully, and Chanyon was just so happy to hear it.

“Glad to hear that.” He smiled.

Minutes later, Sehun came with two drinks on his hand but his apron was off.

“Ice Americano for Chanyeol, and Iced Vanilla Latte for (Y/N).” He placed the drinks one by one before you thanked him.

“Mind if I sit with you guys?” He asked.

Chanyeol nodded your head but he looked to you as you were nodding your head.

“No, please join us.” You smiled at Sehun before he could pull up a nearby chair.

“So, (Y/N), how are you liking the place?” Sehun asked.

You sipped on your coffee before you could answer his question. Putting the glass down.

“Oh, I love it here—I just told Chanyeol about it, I might come over again if I need some refreshing.” You told him, before taking another sip of your coffee. “And the coffe’s great! What made you want to open your own coffee shop?” You asked him.

You could see the bright smile on Sehun’s face before he excitedly explained.

Chanyeol listened to Sehun’s story, but his eyes were always distracted by you. He couldn’t help but to feel proud of you and super happy that you can comfortable talk with Sehun. Sehun is one of his closest friend, and so it means a lot for Chanyeol that you’re comfortable with someone he’s close with. He watched you laughed and smiled at something Sehun told you. As you were listening to Sehun, you caught Chanyeol staring at you and you turn your attention to him.

“Yeol, what are you looking at?” You asked him.

Chanyeol snapped out of his own thoughts and shook his head. “No, it’s nothing.” He smield at you, and you smiled back before turning your attention back to Sehun.

“It’s the typical Chanyeol, always dazing in his own mind.” Sehun commented and you just giggled.

“Okay, I’ll let you both be, I should probably get back to the bar… they need my help I guess…” Sehun said, looking over his shoulder towards the bar.

“Okay.” Chanyeol smiled.

“Okay, if you guys need anything, I’ll be over there—and (Y/N), it was really great talking to you!” Sehun smiled before trotting back towards the bar.

You turn your eyes towards Chanyeol who’s already smiling ear to ear, looking at you.

“What?” You asked him.

“Sehun is one of my closest friend, and seeing you getting along with him, being comfortable here, and of course Sehun being warm towards you and being… Sehun obviously, it just made me really happy.” He said.

You gave him a small smiled, before reaching your hand for his. He took yoru hand before binging it up, kissing yoru knuckles.

“I need to go to the bathroom, you good?” He asked, and you respond by nodding your head.

“Okay, I’ll be back in a jiff.” He said, leaving the table.

You looked out the window where you could see the sky was getting grey and you could see people walking by, pulling their jackets tighter. Judging by the looks of the woman’s hair, the wind must be blowing hard outside.

“(Y/N)?” You heard a woman’s voice.

You turned your head to see your classmates. A group of girls. And the one that called your name is the one you’ve always try to avoid whenever you’re hanging out.

“Can’t believe that you’re actually here, what are you doing here?” She asked, taking a seat where Chanyeol was sitting before the other girls sat down as well. You could feel yoru heart racing, and your palms getting sweaty. You turn your eyes to the bar, and you could see Sheun had his hands full on the bar.

“You’re here alone?” She asked raising her eyebrow. You shook your head.

“I’m here with Chanyeol.” You answered her, letting out a heavy breath.

Where is he??You asked, yoru eyes moving to every corner of the room, searching for Chanyeol.

“I’m still wondering why Chanyeol would want to go out with you, when really—he could have me as a girlfriend.” She said, but you just stayed silent. Holding off every inch of your anxiety.

You could feel your eyes burning, your breathing started to get heavy.

“What does he see in you anyway.” She asked, leaning her face closer to you.

“You’re weird, you don’t socially fit, you’re not as popular as I am.”

“Have you ever thought that maybe Chanyeol is with you because he’s just using you for his grades? He never truly loves you? do you think he loves you??? you’re kidding right, if you actually believe that he loves you—“

“JUST STOP!” You suddenly shouted, and before you could say anything else, you suddenly found yourself getting hard to breathe, the room was spinning, and you could feel your heart was just racing like nothing before.

“Stop… stop, stop, stop!” You repeated, and before you could even break, you could feel familiar pair of arms wrapped around you. You looked up and you could see Chanyeol glaring at the woman’s direction.

“Come on (Y/N), let’s get ouot of here.”

You forced your wiggly legs to get up. You stumbled, your way out but Chanyeol caught you. Everything was a blur, all you could hear was your own heavy breathing, eyes to the ground, focusing on your steps to you won’t trip. You heard Sehun asking something, but you couldn’t make up any words.

Chanyeol brought you to his car, getting to the backseat with him.

“(Y/N), baby, hey, hey focus on me.” You could hear Chanyeol’s voice.

“I can’t Yeol, it’s get—it’s getting hard to breathe…” You gasped for air, shutting your eyes, your hands gripping on his shoulder.

“Baby, hey, hey, look at me… look at me.” He said, cupping your face with his hands.

Youoepedn yoru eyes, looking at his eyes and you could feel your breathing starts to get stable, your heart slowing.

“Breathe… inhale…” He inhaled his breath together with you. “Exhale…”

Chanyeol repeated the steps three times before you could feel yourself getting calm and relaxed.

“That’s it… Come here…” He pulled you into his embrace and you reflexively wrapped your arms around his stomach.

“I’m sorry.” You sniffled.

“Don’t, don’t be sorry… None of us saw them coming, everything was doing great until they came along.” He said.

“Everytime I see her, I just got a panic attack because—she said that you’re dating me because of your grades, she said that you don’t love me, she said that I don’t deserve you and that i—“

“Shhh…. Don’t—stop, please, you don’t believe in all of that do you?” Chanyeol asked. Lifting your face up.

“I mean... I’m a freak Yeol, I don’t fit in the social life, I don’t fit with your crowd—“

“You’re progressing… Baby, I saw the way you talked with Sehun, and that’s something!” Chanyeol said proudly.

“I never want to push you to change your social behavior overnight, and I never expected you to do so, for you, it takes time and adjustments.”

“And to see you having conversations with Sehun, slowly being comfortable in public, that’s a progress I want to see! I’m proud of you!” He said hying the situation, and you chuckled.

“I want you to change for you, I don’t want you to change for me.” He finally said.

“I love you okay? I hope you don’t believe anything—any words that came out of their mouth.” He added and you nod you head, trying to process everything he said to you.

He kissed the top of your head before he could move down to your nose then you leaned in to press your lips against his. Moving rhythmically, full of love and passion.

“Thank you Yeol…” You thanked him, and he smiled.

“Thank you for giving me the chance to be with you.” He smiled.

You heard chatters outside the car, and your attention turns to the coffee shop. You and Chanyeol saw the girls walking out, looking disappointed with Sehun behind them, shaking his head talking about something you can’t hear. Your classmate—the main girl looked so disappointed before he could walk away from the place. Sehun’s eyes caught yours, and he waved his hand to come over.

“I think Sehun just kicked them out, do you want to go back?”

You pulled a long breath before exhaling as you pulled away from Chanyeol’s embrace.

“As long as nobody destrying my vibe again, let’s go!” You told him and Chanyeol smiled, looking at your excitement.

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ladynestaarcheron · 3 years

Text

Fears All the Way Down - Chapter Six

ao3 - masterpost

Hey, babes! Here are our canon fixes for the week:

1. When Nesta was six, she met with a man who declared more or less immediately that she would forever be hopeless at playing an instrument or singing, but that she had a good ear for music. Bull.

2. Nesta is apparently so desperate for a friend that she gives the House life, but never really hangs out with the priestesses. Um. Okay? Sounds fake, but okay.

3. Both Gwyn and Emerie have never left their homes in Sangravah and Illyria, respectively, except for when the IC brings them to the library. Not exactly a fix, but something we will start to explore.

Enjoy!

---

Since Nesta's accomplished virtually nothing in her life, she expects her ideas of "new things" to try to be easy to come up with. But after an hour of brainstorming in bed that Thursday evening, she only has two things scribbled in the notebook Thalia gave her: Wear yellow and Learn to play the trumpet.

"Don't suppose you have a trumpet in here?" Nesta says to the House.

The House only pulls the curtains shut in answer.

"Bedtime," she agrees, shutting the notebook and placing it on her bedside table. "I think this one-per-day rule is a bit much, don't you? Especially considering these self-defense lessons. Do you think other girls will come?" Nesta doesn't always wait for an answer when talking to the House. It tends to interject as it pleases, generally by opening doors or magicking a cup of tea in front of her. "I think that Emerie girl would like to. From Illyria, I told you about her...oh, thank you," she adds, for the House has placed the novel Nesta started last night by her pillow. "Shall I read aloud, then?"

She does, until she falls asleep.

The next morning, she draws looks from the hood-less girls and slight double-takes from the veiled priestesses; no doubt courtesy of the bright yellow dress the House had pulled out of her wardrobe this morning. She ignores them, not stopping until she reaches Clotho's office. When she knocks, Thalia's voice calls for her to enter.

"Well!" Thalia says, smiling.

"I'm never wearing this color again. It washes me out." Ruins the detox and more regulated eating she's had this past month.

"I think you look lovely," she insists, and Clotho nods. "But that's certainly your prerogative. Is that the worst consequence?"

"Yes, yes," Nesta says impatiently, waving a hand. "It won't kill me to try new things. Lesson learned."

Thalia looks over at Clotho. Perhaps she can tell what the priestess looks like under her hood, or perhaps she talks to her mind-to-mind like Feyre and Rhysand do, but Nesta almost thinks they exchange a glance of some sort. Amused, perhaps?

"Can either of us help you with anything, Nesta?" Thalia asks pleasantly, and gestures for her to sit down.

"Maybe," Nesta says taking a seat. Her cheeks color slightly as she does; why is she bashful about this all of a sudden? Around Thalia and Clotho? "I...well, I've started some self-defense, you know."

"We know." They both did, had both asked her how it was going. "You're still enjoying it, aren't you?"

"I...I am-it's good for me." Enjoy is a strong word.

"You said it helps keep you focused," Thalia says. "Centered."

"Yes. It...makes me feel good." She doesn't normally struggle with her words so much, does she? Does she sound like an idiot to the two of them, or just to her own ears? No, Clotho and Thalia would never say that about her. Never even think it. It's only her who's like this, trapped in her own wretched mind, slave to something dark and horrible and become just as vile-

But no, that isn't true. It's not just her who feels that way. And that's why she's here.

"It makes me feel more in control," Nesta says finally. "Of my life and my body."

Thalia leans back, satisfied. Clotho doesn't move. Nesta wonders if they know, if they can guess at what just went on in her mind. Either way, they both wait for her to continue.

"And I thought," she says, pausing to draw breath, "that maybe some other girls might be interested. With...Cassian."

At this, Clotho does cock her head.

"We meet in the mornings. Not on Tuesdays and not over the weekend," she adds, just so they aren't sitting in silence.

After a few moments that feel ridiculously long, Thalia says, "I think that's a wonderful idea, Nesta."

For a brief, strange moment, something happens. Nesta breathes in as Thalia finishes her sentence-not in relief or any emotion in particular, just to breathe-and as she does so, something inside of her shifts. Un-constricts.

But it's gone just as soon as it arrives, and before Nesta has time to dwell upon it, one of Clotho's notes appears. For a select group of girls, perhaps.

"Yes, I think we have the same few in mind...Of course, Nesta, you're welcome to share this with all of the students, but just between Clotho and myself, I think we'll privately encourage four or five...yes, thank you for bringing this up to us, Nesta," Thalia says, finishing with another warm smile.

Don't go just yet, Nesta, please, Clotho writes as Thalia takes her leave. I wanted to ask you how you were doing.

"I'm well. Thank you."

I'm glad to hear these self-defense lessons have something to do with that...our own lectures and exercises too, I hope?

Nesta raises her head slightly as her cheeks tinge pink. "I-yes. I think so." Clotho waits, unmoving, until Nesta sighs and says, "I do like the lectures."

Wonderful. Which ones?

Nesta answers honestly, "All of them." It's...it's quite something, to learn things. Things she never knew, never imagined, from females who are so passionate about them. "And...I like the jewelery. I like working with my hands."

I'm so very happy to hear you're finding yourself here, Nesta, Clotho's pen writes out. Have you given any thought to a more permanent assignment?

"I...thought you were supposed to."

With your input, of course. We would never want you to do something you were uncomfortable with.

But Gwyn's not comfortable with Merrill, is she? "I don't know. There's not really anything wrong with any of the priestesses, I suppose." It's only when Clotho begins lightly shaking with amusement that Nesta realizes she probably shouldn't have said that. "That is...I like them." She does. Enough.

Well, I'm happy to hear that, too.

Nesta rises, rather abrupt. "I've got to sort books," she says, and doesn't wait for a proper goodbye before leaving.

---

The amount Nesta has improved after only a few short weeks of being in the library floors Cassian. Her weight gain, voluntarily asking him for self-defense lessons, her performance in said lessons, and she still manages to find time to ask if other girls can join. Not even touching upon the fact that she's said she doesn't feel so dependent on alcohol anymore.

It shows incredible strength of character, and it makes Cassian's heart swell so much that he almost doesn't care when he meets an unfamiliar, tipsy young male he realizes must be one of the rebels in Windhaven, glaring at him.

Almost.

"What are you doing outside of your camp, boy?" Boy, he says, because he is one. He's not yet participated in the Rite.

"Visiting family," the boy slurs. "Sir," he adds, mocking.

"Go home," he orders, trying to imitate Nesta when she's at her coldest.

Perhaps it works, because the boy blanches before sneering and turning away.

He has to tell Rhys they're getting more brazen. Normally Cassian wouldn't care at all what any of them say to him-or at least, say he doesn't care-but if these pricks are bringing Nesta into it, all bets are off. He's going to follow up on whoever that was and make sure he doesn't come back to this camp until this situation is under control. Until the threat on the throne, on Nesta's life, is vanquished.

Shaking himself, he pushes into Emerie's shop. "Good morning."

She looks up. "You're back. Hello," she adds.

He gives her a smile. "Who was that?"

Emerie does not return his expression. "My baby cousin, Bellius," she says, bitter. "But never mind him." Just like that, Emerie phases out of her ire and into a cool, detached expression. Just like Nesta, he thinks. Perhaps that was why they liked each other-if they liked each other. "What can I help you with?"

"Perhaps you can help me," he says. "Nesta-Lady Nesta-you met here a few weeks ago?"

"Yes," she says, careful. "I remember."

"Well," he says, unsure of how to introduce the subject. "She's...started taking some self-defense lessons. For exercise. With me."

Emerie looks unconvinced. "For exercise?"

"And she thought you might be interested in joining. And that you have some friends who might be interested, too."

Emerie's face doesn't betray anything. She studies him, and it's been about ten seconds before she says, "Did she?"

"Yes," he says, feeling only slightly like perhaps the two of them training together might not be good for him.

"Hm," she says. After another minute of her own quiet deliberation, she says, slowly, "I will attend one of these lessons...and then I will...consult with my friends."

"All right," Cassian says, thankful that it's over. "Someone will be along to pick you up Monday morning."

He doesn't dawdle too long in saying goodbye. He has a lot to cover before Monday-figure out the best way to introduce self-defense to very traumatized, potentially, females, and now he'll have Emerie, and Nesta. What kind of dynamic will that create?

But he's been a soldier his whole life. Surely he can handle a few young females.

Hopefully.

---

Nesta has taken to carrying around her notebook wherever she goes, just in case she gets an idea of some new thing she can try. A girl named Deridre approaches her and asks her what self-defense is like, and if it's at all like the meditative yoga they do with the priestess Agata, so she writes that down. She goes to one of Daphne's lectures for the first time and learns about resuscitation and scrawls the name of a method to stop choking that seems simple enough to learn. Gwyn sees her writing and says, "You know, your finger nails are shaped so nicely. How come you never paint them?" so she adds that to her list, too.

She finds, actually, that it's quite nice to carry the book around. It's nice to have an excuse to write with such a fine pen. It's been years since she has.

Her sisters visit her over the weekend at her invitation and they are thrilled by her new things.

"I could teach you to paint," Feyre suggests.

Nesta wants to reply that the idea is to attempt things that do not make her want to pitch herself off the veranda, but instead she says, "You already tried that."

"Right," she says, deflating.

"But," she says, oddly disturbed by this response, and grasping for something to say, "maybe we can...sculpt. Or something. One day."

Feyre brightens at this. "Whenever you have time," she says, happily.

"How's self-defense going, Nesta?" Elain asks, would-be casual.

Nesta rolls her eyes. "You've heard we're inviting other girls?"

"Oh, Nesta, I just think it's such a grand idea-"

"Everyone's really excited about it, honestly, they've been trying for something like this for so long-"

"And with the Illyrian girls, Cassian said-"

"We know it's not exactly a unit, but still so impressive-"

"And we hear you're doing really well!"

"Yes! Really well! Maybe I could join you one day, too," Feyre says, hopeful.

"I'd watch. Or, or maybe even try some!"

Nesta takes a sip of water. She forgets how much noise these two make, honestly. "I don't think it's as exciting as you've imagined," she says. "Sure, you can come one day. Maybe not while the other girls...I'm a bit nervous," she confesses, suddenly. "Clotho and Thalia wouldn't let if they thought it was a bad idea, but I don't know..." She looks out onto the rainy city. The House keeps the interior warm for her, but sometimes she thinks she can still feel the cold in her bones anyway. "I mean, I'm the only one who ever leaves the library, and it could go really wrong. Obviously, no one's going to force herself to do this, and they can just no, but-uh," she finishes on a stammer, as she turns back to look at her sisters.

For there are shining silver tears in Elain's eyes, and Feyre's face looks cracked.

What has she said? What horrible thing has she done?

"No, no," Feyre says hurriedly, reading her expression.

"Sorry, Nesta," Elain says, bringing her hands to wipe her eyes. "It's just...it's just so nice to see you like this...about something."

"Oh," Nesta says, eventually.

Her sisters leave in the evening, but the likeness of their faces in her mind do not. Their expressions, their...love.

Is she really so different now, she wonders all weekend. Is she so much better? She doesn't feel particularly much of anything.

If this is better, then what had she been before?

Monday morning rolls around quickly, and she is decked in the uniform the House has supplied her and finished with a light breakfast, waiting at the arena on the roof before the sun has even fully risen.

"Nervous too?" Cassian says from behind her as he neatly lands in.

"I suppose," she says, not turning around.

"How long have you been here?"

"Fifteen minutes."

He chuckles. "Maybe more nervous than I am. Well...shall we begin?"

"No one's here yet."

"So? We can start just the two of us." He shrugs out of his jacket. "Would put us at ease, at least, don't you think?"

Us, he says. Like they are the same. They get nervous by the same things and the same things calm them down and they do it all together.

"Yes," she says, clearly needing it.

The movements come easier than on Thursday. Each time she gets better, and it is, she will admit, a rare sort of feeling. To know that she is improving at something. To feel it in her blood and bones.

Cassian's instructions leave no room for worrying in her mind. When she slips out of his holds, breaks out of his grip, all she can think of are his body and hers, anticipation of his next move and victory when she gets it right, or disgruntlement when she is wrong. They move through the steps in sync, almost like the ballet she used to study, and she is so consumed with it that she does not notice until they are done that they have an audience.

Not a particularly big one. Gwyn, Deirdre, and Azriel has brought Emerie, but an audience nonetheless.

"All right," Cassian says. "So what Nesta and I just did is called the Grunge Hook." He launches through into an explanation of what it means and Nesta blinks as she realizes he must have known they all had arrived. Seen them, heard them.

Her cheeks go cold. She can never notice anything else when he's there. Certainly not as they were; touching, talking...

"So Emerie and Nesta, and, ah, Miss..."

"Gwyn," Gwyn says at the same time Deirdre says, "Deirdre."

"Right," Cassian says. "Well, you two pair up."

Emerie walks over to Nesta and they are ready faster than the other two. Nesta tenses. They have not yet been outside-perhaps this was a mistake-what will Gwyn think of her now? She won't sit next to her for lectures anymore, won't come help her put books away-

But it is only a moment, and then Gwyn turns to Cassian and says, "I guess we should have dressed differently."

"You can wear whatever you're comfortable with," he says. "And you don't have to do anything you don't want to, either."

So Deirdre keeps her hood secured on, but Gwyn shrugs her robe off entirely to reveal simple, like-colored dress. Perhaps she'd like leggings and a skirt like Nesta's, she thinks. If she decides to continue...if other girls decide to join...

Emerie's, surprisingly, not as good at the movements as Nesta is. Surprisingly because Nesta doesn't really think of herself as good at this, just better than before, and because, well, Emerie's Illyrian, and all the Illyrians Nesta knows...

"It's your wings," Azriel says, approaching. "They throw you off balance."

She droops. "So I can't. Because I'm clipped."

Nesta flinches-it's such an ugly word. But what to say?

Azriel answers before she can, his shadows clearing from his face. "Of course not," he says, patient. "Just hold yourself this way," and he shows her how to maneuver her wings.

Emerie seems as though her emotions sway easier than Nesta's, as she appears cheered up by this. "Let's try again," she says to Nesta.

And they do, but it is not like before, with Cassian. It is not as in sync, and she is not as focused. Over on the other side, under Cassian's watch, Gwyn and Deirdre are doing even worse.

When the hour is done, Deirdre hurries back down faster than she has moved throughout the whole lesson, and Gwyn shoots Nesta a small smile, and nods her head once at Azriel, before saying, "Good to see you again," and leaving. Emerie says, "Thanks for thinking of me," and perhaps sounds a bit more genuine, but she turns to ask Azriel to take her back right after, and then she is gone too.

"Brilliant," Nesta says aloud, miserable.

Cassian looks over at her, surprised. "What?"

"Are you kidding me? That was horrible."

Cassian laughs. "Are you kidding me? That was great!"

"Enough," she snaps, skin burning. "I don't need-"

"Woah," he says, raising his hands. "Woah. Seriously, Nesta, what's wrong?"

She clenches her hands into fists. "Stop mocking me."

"I'm not!" he protests, and his stupid eyes are wide and innocent and his stupid voice is confused and concerned when he says, "Come on, why are you upset?" so she has no choice but to answer.

"They hated it and they were bad."

Cassian laughs again. A real laugh this time, with his head tilting back, and the sound echoing in the mountains. Her heart lurches. She ignores it.

"They did not hate it," he says, eyes twinkling. "And they were not bad. They're novices. Not everyone's a born natural like you, with a perfectly paired partner in me," he teases, winking, almost as though good-natured.

"They couldn't get away fast enough." Deirdre didn't even take off her hood. So much for helping other females.

Cassian's grin falters. Shit. Had she said that out loud?

He moves closer to her. "Do you know how many clipped Illyrian females have agreed to come to anything remotely similar to this?"

"You know I don't," she snaps, but he doesn't rise to her bait.

"None," he says, calm. "Emerie is the first. Do you know how long Deirdre's been in here?"

"No," she says. Longer than Gwyn, but not more than that.

"Since before Amarantha took over."

Nesta winces. Over fifty years, at least, then.

"And she came...you convinced her to come."

"I didn't," she says. "Thalia-"

"She told me," he interrupts. "She told me you told her what it was like and she wanted to try it."

Nesta stills at this. "Well...what does it matter if she just tries it once?"

He laughs-again! Why does he laugh so often? "Aren't you doing that? Trying things once? Oh, no, I don't mean it in a bad way, Nes, don't look like that. I'm just saying...okay. So it's not for everyone. Maybe she tries it once and never does it again. But it's still worth a whole fucking lot that she tried. And that's because of you. And how do you know she's not going to try again, anyway? Because she left when the hour was up?"

Nesta reddens slightly.

"Fuck," he says, and this time it doesn't amuse her, his easy swearing. "I-shit. Nesta. I'm not trying to hurt your feelings."

She startles. "I-what?"

"I just mean..." He runs his fingers through his hair. "Look. You did a good thing. Whether or not they continue, you did a good thing. And I think they will, for the record. Emerie might not want to come every day, you know, she might not have time...but I think Gwyn liked it enough."

Nesta feels something inside of her flutter. "She did?"

Cassian nods. "Definitely." He looks at her for another moment, then shakes his head.

"What?" she asks, dreading the answer.

"Nothing," he says. "I just don't understand how you can't possibly be so proud of yourself. Especially today." He shrugs slightly, completely oblivious to what is happening inside of her. That feeling from Clotho's office. What is that?

But it is gone as soon as it arrives, just like last time. He says, "See you tomorrow, Nesta," and leaves. And then she does too.

---

Cassian, Nesta learns over the course of the next few weeks, is right.

Not about her, obviously. But about the females still being interested.

Gwyn's excited about it. "I didn't realize you were so good," she gushes.

Nesta huffs in amusement. "Hardly."

"Well, better than the rest of us!"

"Just a bit more practice," she says. And there is something about the lessons with Cassian...though they don't do as much together, though, anymore. Not with the others there now. She almost wishes that she had not invited everyone for each of the lessons...maybe one morning with him just to herself.

But that's-that's just absurd. He's hardly hers.

Deirdre finds her that Monday, too, and thanks her for convincing her to go. Nesta privately wonders what on earth it was she had said that worked, because the conversation barely stands out in her mind, but she tells Deirdre she's glad to hear she enjoyed it, anyway.

"I think Roslin and Ananke would like it too," she says. "Thalia told them it would be good for them, but they were too nervous. I'll try and convince them...I didn't realize how much fun it would be," she adds with a gentle laugh.

Fun?

"Oh," Nesta says. "Oh...well, good. I mean, good to hear. I hope they...join too."

And Cassian is right about Emerie as well. She does not come on Tuesday, but she does on Wednesday, and tells Nesta she thinks she can keep coming twice a week.

"And your friends?" she asks.

"They're interested," she tells her. "But I think I have to work a little harder at convincing them."

Nesta nods, not wanting to ask what they might have stopping them from coming. Whatever happened to Emerie's wings-whoever had clipped her-perhaps those females have someone like that in their lives.

It is on the second Wednesday that Emerie arrives that Nesta asks her if she'd like to stay a while longer. She'd already asked Azriel the day before if he could possibly take her back after lunch, and he'd agreed.

There was something odd about talking to Azriel, she noticed. Something about those shadows. Something about the way they-looked?-at her. Something...

But Emerie agrees, if a bit shyly, and she asks Gwyn if she'd like to take lunch with the two of them instead of in the priestesses' dining hall, and Nesta has her new thing for the day: hosting people for a meal.

They ogle everything openly, jaws dropping as the House pulls out chairs for them and food appears as Nesta requests it.

"Thank you," she says.

"You're...talking to the House?" Gwyn asks.

"Yes."

"Oh. Thank you," she adds.

"Thank you," Emerie says quickly.

The House likes them too. Nesta can tell. There's a bit more effort being made here today, she thinks, as she notes a fancy bouquet in the middle of the table and finer china than she normally uses. Nesta smiles to herself.

Nesta searches for something she can say, a safe topic that has nothing to do with self-defense, but Gwyn beats her to it. "So, how do you two know each other?" she asks.

"Nesta came to Illyria to scare some rebels who are trying to kill her," Emerie answers casually.

Gwyn jerks her head towards Nesta. "Really?"

"Not quite how I would have phrased it," Nesta says. "But true enough, I suppose."

"Why are they trying to kill you?" Gwyn says, eyes wide.

Wonderful. What a fantastic luncheon this is.

"They don't like me very much."

"They're scared of her," Emerie says. "And they want to overthrow the High Lord and High Lady." She turns to Nesta. "What do you think of that?"

Nesta raises an eyebrow as she cuts into her food. "Of killing my sister and Rhysand? Well, I've certainly thought of it myself, at times."

They both laugh. Nesta blinks. Then she smiles slightly.

"I have to assume I'm against them," she says. "But to be honest, I don't really understand any of the politics here. I'm...not very well-informed."

"Oh, neither am I," Gwyn says, shaking her head. "It's terrible. I mean, I've lived in this court all my life, and I'm so pitifully ignorant. It's ridiculous. I don't know the first thing about Illyria, like. Or even Velaris, really. And I have no excuse. I live in a library, for gods' sakes."

"I don't know of any books I'd recommend for you to learn about Illyria," Emerie says, thoughtful. "Not unless you read Illyrian, that is."

"See, I didn't even know there was an Illyrian until you just said that. Pathetic."

"Can you recommend other books?" Nesta says, latching on the chance to steer the conversation away from the history of the Night Court and into perhaps the only topic she might be able to contribute to.

"Oh, of course," Emerie says, pausing to swallow. "What do you like?"

"Romance," Nesta says, as Gwyn says, "Adventure."

"Ooh, The Knight Society. That's both. You can read that together."

Gwyn grins at Nesta. "Book club," she says. "What's it about?"

Emerie launches into a description of the book-the series, actually-and eventually, Nesta finds herself not looking for things to say, but rather just...talking. Not forced. Not desperate. Just a part of the conversation. Easy, flowing...fun, almost.

Funny, at least. Emerie is clutching her sides laughing as she describes the worst romance novel she ever read and Gwyn giggles, her hands covering her mouth, but Nesta says thoughtfully, "That's not such a horrible idea, though."

"You think-"

"No, no, the premise is atrocious, yes," she says. "But that exact scene...that has potential."

"Potential, right," Emerie says, laughing still.

"No, I mean it," she says, but she lets it go, lets the conversation drift naturally.

She is disappointed when Azriel comes to take Emerie back, but picked up by the fact that they all are. Emerie promises to make time to stay for lunch again, either Monday or Wednesday of next week.

"This was so lovely," Gwyn says to her, wistful, as they walk down to the library together. "So much nicer than in the dining hall.

"Really?" Nesta says before she can stop herself. "Well...I eat lunch every day. You can join...if you'd like."

Gwyn brightens. "I would!"

So after two weeks of lessons with other girls (Roslin and Ananke have joined, and Lorelei and Ilana, too, though the later doesn't participate so much as watch), and more random assignments from Clotho, and new things for Thalia, Nesta finally finds herself with a few hours of quiet after Friday evening's lecture has been canceled.

"Shall we read?" she says to the House.

Lights flicker in answer. Too many for the usual yes or no. This means Nesta has to follow.

"All right," she says, standing. "To the veranda?" she asks. But it's too cold out, so she hopes not.

Instead, the House leads her to a room she hasn't been in since her first stay, upon first exploration. She has had no need.

"Oh," she says at the door, softly.

The knob turns slightly, not fully opening. The House giving her the final decision.

But she doesn't want to hurt its feelings, so she opens the door.

The music room-a conservatory, it can be called-just by the sheer size of it-is grander than she remembers. She had opened the door and not even stepped inside, that first time. Just stood there, frozen, before snapping the door shut and hurrying away.

She takes a slow step in, but almost as though she is being walked by some other being, she takes another, and then another, and before she knows it, she is seated at the piano.

Ballroom grand. Enormous. Sleek and glossy and it would sound just perfect, she knows.

Lights flicker from behind. She turns and lets out a little laugh.

"Thanks," she says, shaking her head at the spotlight, "but I don't think I'm going to be learning the trumpet this evening."

The lights stop, as if the House is acquiescing.

The lights above her now flicker briefly. So will you play the piano, then?

Nesta inhales and exhales deeply. Slowly. Again. And again. The same way Cassian has her do after lessons.

There's really...there's really nothing stopping her. There's no reason not to. If she were to pick up her notebook and write down the reasons why she can't play right now, there wouldn't be any.

So why can't she do it?

She doesn't have an answer. So with another deep breath, Nesta closes her eyes and gently presses her thumb to middle C.

The sound is soft, and then that feeling, from with Thalia and Clotho, and Cassian, hits her again. But as she hits the second note, it does not fade away. It stays this time. So she plays.

#nessian #nessian fic #acosf fic #acotar fic #nesta archeron #whatever the hell am i supposed to tag this asssssss????????#anyway. i'm thrilled to be sharing this!!#cannot WAIT for next chapter also #because nesta had to go on a journey to get to her journey #because she was in such a bad place!!#but here she's like...she's been getting better but not good #and now she can start getting good you know??#so exciting #hope y'all enjoy<3 #oh and btw i don't about you but i'm turning 22 next friday when i post chapter seven #so in case you were looking for a sign to share what you think...this is it #😌#lol #but kind of for real

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sabraeal · 3 years

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We Seek That Which We Shall Not Find, Ch 8

[Read on AO3]

Written for @eveluboi for winning the Obiyuki Trope Madness 2021 betting kitty! I meant for this to be out way back in June, but it quickly slipped from a 4-5K projected fic to 7K 😂

Cold porcelain presses up against her palms, slick from where her fingers wrap around the sink’s edge. Shirayuki bows her head down, watching the water spiral down the drain, and breathes. In and out; in and out. If she hadn’t left her phone out on the table, she could look at one of those gifs she bookmarked; the one where the triangle becomes a decagon maybe, or where the star burst becomes a mandala. But she did, so instead she has to visualize it, counting out the shapes behind her eyelids.

It doesn’t work, but at least it’s something.

There’s something distinctly high school dance about hiding the the bathroom-- though in here, it’s impossible to just sit on the toilet and brace her legs against the door. Not that she needs to; unlike a bathroom stall, this door actually locks. A feature she’s sure has nothing to do with whatever the Wisterias plan to get up to in that Jacuzzi tub.

Shirayuki frankly refuses to speculate on what that might be. She still has to look Izana in the eye tonight, and the last thing she needs is to be thinking about him doing-- things in here, with people. Maybe he just has a compressed spine at the ripe old age of twenty-five, the kind that can’t be alleviated by anything less than eight massage jets.

In any case, this whole strategy of retreat isn’t really her style. Or at least, it hadn’t been, until...before. Which was a blip on an otherwise spotless record of confronting her problems head-on, with the sort of determined attitude Jaja fondly refers to as foolhardy, and Busha calls bull-headedness.

Her fingers grip the bowl firmly, levering herself up to stare into the mirror. She can do this. She can go right out there, sit down, and have Lynet reject this proposal. Because a normal person wouldn’t hide in the bathroom to avoid a fictional conflict.

Right. Shiaryuki drops her hands, giving her reflection a steely nod. It’s not like this is her first time turning down a boy; even if Shuuka throws her in a dungeon, he’ll still have taken her rejection better than the last one did, and that was a real live person. Not that Raj is much of a measuring stick for any kind of model behavior, but-- still. The point stands.

The door gives beneath the pressure of her hand, opening with a silence that’s confusing rather than comforting. Zen’s house might not be as old as hers, but it’s still not new; the apartment went up in the last five years, and its doors still hang crooked, screaming every time they move more than an inch. She can’t imagine Izana going around oiling hinges.

“Hey.” A hand catches her, strong fingers banding around her wrist. Pale ones, slender and well-trimmed; she traces them right up a crisp flannel to find Kiki frowning down at her. “I would give it a minute.”

Shirayuki blinks, and suddenly the world refocuses. It’s oddly silent in the basement, only the thin tumble of dice from the floor above. Obi’s either up to something or Beaumains is in trouble; she can’t even beging to guess which one would be worse.

And Kiki’s leaning here, right against the neutral paint, waiting for her. She shifts, casting a worried look toward the game room. “Is something--?”

Mitsuhide clears his throat; it echoes down the empty hall, a sound that fills the space like thunder overhead. Shirayuki bites back the impulse to count until next lightning strike; even though she knows it should be the other way around, that light travels faster than sound, but this--

“Is something wrong?” Zen drawls, sounding nothing like the boy who sits next to her in homeroom. No, sounding like this, he’s every inch Izana’s brother.

-- this is different. Bedwyr uses his words before he dares draw his blade, and it comes too naturally to be anything besides pure Mitsuhide, just like Beaumains’ quick tongue is the same one that wags in Obi’s mouth. He rumbles before the strike, and this one is destined to hit too close to home.

“Zen.” There’s something about how Mitsuhide wields a name; Shirayuki hardly knows him-- not as much as Zen and Kiki, anyway-- but when he says hers, it’s like having those giant arms cradling her tight against his chest, in a way that is less romantic and more like a tiny kitten living in a jacket pocket. When he says Obi’s, it’s a buzz, a burr, the sound before a siren wails, a warning that will never become a threat.

And when he says Zen’s right now, it’s a weight, a boulder to bear like Atlas shoulders the earth. It’s the moment before the punishment comes in the last act; the last temptation to turn the antagonist back onto the path of the righteous. “You should rethink your behavior tonight.”

“My behavior?” Zen squawks, chair clattering beneath him. “I haven’t even done anything.”

Mitsuhide’s silence speaks volumes.

“I haven’t,” Zen insists, though it’s weaker this time. “You’re the ones who are just letting Obi act like the rules don’t apply to him.”

“We are?”

“Well...” The pout sits sullenly on this tongue. “Izana is. And you guys aren’t doing anything about it either!”

Mitsuhide heaves a sigh that would make trees sway. Kiki’s fingers flex in sympathy against her shoulder. “I think you’re being a little unfair.”

“Unfair?” The word squeaks at the end of Zen’s range. “What’s unfair is that Izana invited that guy for the specific purpose of scaring Shirayuki off, and no one seems to care.”

Shirayuki only realizes she’s moved when Kiki’s grip holds her back, one foot still hovering over the floor, poised to make a very determined stomp. Words are welling up in her like ground water during a storm; a whole monologue that threatens to flood the basement of her common sense. The whole night comes back to her in inches; every slight, every complaint is magnified tenfold now that she knows it comes to this, and she--

“Give them a minute,” Kiki murmurs. “Sometimes Zen just needs a swift application of a boot to his ass.”

She blinks up at her, body vibrating with a need to do something. “And Mitsuhide will do that?”

A picture might be a thousand words, but somehow Kiki’s eyebrows could compose a novel. She lifts them a bare, dubious inch, and Shirayuki knows that chapter one starts with, and you think you’d do any better? “You’ll see. He’ll come around. Have a little faith.”

Bitter words lick up her throat, a carefully composed diatribe furiously scribed by her irritation. A list of all Zen’s petty squabbles, of all the times he’d tried to sideline her or sequester Obi ready to spill out, but--

But she swallows it down. Tonight’s tried her patience for sure, but it’d been Zen who leaned across the aisle in homeroom her first day. The one who’d stuck out a hand and said, you must be new. The one who had made sure she’d had somewhere to sit at lunch-- sure, Kihal had found her by then, adopting her like a baby bird fallen from a nest, but he’d swung by even though his wasn’t until next period.

That’s what’s so frustrating, to be honest-- she knows how good he can be. So the fact he’s choosing to act this way instead...

Her shoulders sag under the weight of Kiki’s hand. “I’m trying to.”

When Mitsuhide speaks again, it’s even, patient; she’d be tempted to say it was like a parent to a child, but there’s no condescension, no sense of speaking down but rather across. “That’s possible. But you’re still the only one acting hostile at this table.”

Zen’s huffs, indignant. “So you want me to just sit here and let them ruin Shirayuki’s experience?”

Kiki pushes past her with a parting pat, sauntering into the room. “How could they when you’re doing such a good job of it yourself?”

Shirayuki can’t see either of the boys, but she can see Kiki when she spins a chair around, dropping down to straddle it. “You may not have noticed, but it doesn’t look like Shirayuki minds Obi being here. At least, not as much as you do.”

“Kiki,” Mitsuhide sighs, a warning. “That’s enough.”

Kiki must not agree, since she leans in, smile sharp enough to cut glass. “Maybe you need to lighten up, brother dearest.”

Zen sucks in a hard breath, like he’s been hit. “Don’t--”

The door rattles at the top of the stairs, a muffled voice turning to a dry laugh as it opens. Her stomach lurches like that moment at the top of a coaster, looking down at the track below. It’s Obi.

Kiki is a flurry of motion; her chair flips beneath her, and she sits back down hard, feet kicking up onto the table. When Izana and Obi emerge from the stairway, it looks like she‘s been idling at a casual tilt for hours, not seconds, but still, still--

Izana lifts one elegantly arched eyebrow. No matter how cleverly they all compose themselves, he almost certainly knows every word that’s been said.

“You’re back?” Zen coughs, his words hobbling awkwardly, dragged down by guilt. Izana’s other eyebrow joins the first. “What happened?”

Obi drops into his seat, cradling chin in hand. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I would,” Zen snaps, irritation already rising. “That’s why I asked.”

“Oh, don’t worry--” Obi tosses him a wink designed to send him through the roof-- “you’ll find out.”

“I--”

“If there’s any other business, tell me now,” Izana says, taking his place at the head of the table. “Otherwise, you’ve slept through the night.”

Obi flutters his eyes, grin taking on a feral edge. “Well, you know I’m all taken care of, Majesty.”

“Anyone else?” Izana sighs, long suffering. His eyes flick out over the table, settling into a frown. “Does anyone know where Shirayuki is?”

“Bathroom,” Kiki offers too quick, gaze cutting over to where she hides in the hall, before darting back. The corner of Izana’s mouth pulls deeper, and his eyes lift--

“Ah, I’m here!” Shirayuki hurries out, slipping into her seat. When she looks up Zen’s watching her with wide eyes, gears clunking along behind them as he looks from her to the hall and back, doing the exact equations she was hoping he couldn’t. “Sorry.”

“It’s not a problem,” Izana assures her, keeping his eyes fixed to the screen in front of him. “Did you have anything you needed to do before the night is over?”

“Ah, um.” Her fingers stretch wide over Lynet’s sheet, tips gripping at the table. “Yes. One last thing.”

The stars are bright tonight, shining in the firmament like jewels in velvet. Ancient poets would invoke Diana at the sight, at the thousand heroes and maidens consigned to shine above for defying their fates. Older ones still would call upon Arianrhod, the silver wheel, mother of wind and skies alone, praising the complexity of her beauty.

But when you raise your eyes to heaven’s glorious vault, you see only kingly gift laid at your feet, unasked. And when you lower them, another waits for you in Shuuka’s smile, devastating and earnest.

“A fine night, is it not?” His breath mists in the air between you; a lucky thing, since it obscures your grimace. “In all Our Lord’s creation, a man could not find one finer than this.”

“It is a wonder,” you murmur, stirring the fur at your cloak’s collar. “But I have seen so little of this world that I hesitate to say that in a thousands nights there would not be one that could surpass it.”

His mouth spreads wider still, the pearl of his teeth glimmering in the moon’s light. You’ve pleased him, somehow. “You can only say that, my lady, since you are graced with your own presence every moment, and I have only these. For now.”

Your feet stutter beneath you; the leaves crunching makes him turn, brow raised in concern. “Shuuka...”

“Ah, yes. You wished to speak with me, did you not?” His boot heels clack against the cobbles, coming to perch on the raised bed beside you. He is not close, even still, but having his eyes level with yours makes this moment too intimate for you to keep him fixed in your vision. Instead you turn, leaving him looming at the corner of your eye. “I am your servant in all things, my lady. Speak.”

“My lord,” you begin, for politeness seems the only kindness you can extend to him, “I believe there has been some misunderstanding.”

His head tilts. “A misunderstanding?”

His voice is lower, a manly rumble instead of its usual reedy melody; a child playing at a man. A man he only wishes to become because it might make you happy.

You sigh, your gut tangling as easy as your fingers do above it. Were you any other woman but yourself, you would be pleased to have made a match as fine as this. Perhaps even mere months ago, you would have been comforted by the thought of marrying a man you had met before, even if he had been a silly, sobbing boy at the time. But now, as you are, you cannot care for this-- this life your father wished for you, with no thought to your own.

“About the state of the agreement between our fathers.” Your breath catches in your chest before you manage, “They are both gone.”

Shuuka peers at you with shining eyes, and oh, if only you could choose your words as gently as he deserved. But you know better; a man who wears a hard helm often keeps a harder head beneath it, and women’s words only penetrate such a barrier if they are drawn to a point.

“That I know,” he says, so soft. “And I am sorry for it. But we may yet do what they willed for our future.”

“That is not all,” you continue, each word stinging with guilt. “This understanding was dissolved long before either of them was brought back into the great shepherd’s fold. When my family fell upon misfortune...”

You had hoped it would be easier to speak of it, but the words stick to your teeth, refusing to leave the safety of your mouth. Shuuka reaches out, clasping his hand in yours with far too much understanding for what you wish to say.

“I am not proud of what my father did,” he tells you, sincerity ringing from his words, clear as a church bell. “Though I am certain he thought it would be for the best, at the time. He never pledged my troth to any other, and above any other woman he had entertained to be the Lady of Laxdo, it was of you he spoke most highly.”

“That is--” hard to believe. Not when you spent most of your betrothal dance trodding on his son’s toes-- “Kind of you to say. I know that you value the words of your father above all others--”

“My father’s esteem is exceeded only by that of the Lord in Heaven, may he ever sit at his right hand.” Pain hollows his eyes, so raw that even in health he gleams gaunt beneath the moon’s light. You have both lost your fathers, but this wound is fresh, bleeding still, and yours--

Well, yours sewed up just fine with a little needle and thread. How quickly a wound heals when you must see to it yourself.

“Would that I could talk to him,” Shuuka rasps, fingers clenching around stone. “But I trust that if he could see you now, he would see a daughter still.”

His grief burns brightly, a halo that surrounds him-- no, a shroud, the sort that might bury him beside his fathers bones if he did not take care. It is that which makes all this worse, which turns what you must do from a discomfort to a cruelty. But it is better yet than what it could be if you indulged him, if you let pity and kindness stand where only love should.

“Yes, I understand,” you murmur, gathering every last draught of courage. “But I must admit, my lord, that I do not hold my own father in such esteem. You are a kind man, Lord Shuuka, the sort any woman would count her blessings should she find you as her husband, but I...”

You flounder, the night pressing in thickly around you. What you wouldn’t give for crickets, if only to break the silence.

“Ah.” There is a wealth of hurt hidden in that breath. “But you mean to say that it shall not be you, Lady Lynet.”

“What?” Zen’s eyes blink wide, so bright, so blue across from her. “You’re turning him down?”

Shirayuki stares. “What do you mean?”

“He’s a lord, isn’t he?” It’s a strange thing to ask, especially when they just spent the last week and change-- well, four hours really-- at his castle, but here was Zen, looking toward Izana like he needed clarification. “Wouldn’t Lynet, you know...?”

“Um.” Even with a sweep of Zen’s wrist and the emphatic lift of his eyebrows, Shirayuki still can’t see how that sentence might finish itself. “No, I don’t.”

It’s quiet enough to hear a pin drop, so when Obi lets out a hiccup, isn’t not exactly inconspicuous. She glances over at him, and from the way his mouth twitches at the corners, she’s hardly the first. “Is something...?”

Wrong, she means to say, but Obi gives a single solid shiver and collapses onto the table, head buried in his arms.

There’s a breath where her fingers go numb on the table, where her heart beat practically deafens her as it pound in her ears. She’s not here in the room, she’s out in the yard, a wrinkled arm reaching out to her, and all she can think about is where her phone is, whether she can reach it from here--

“My, my.” Izana’s drawl rattles her back to the table, gaze skittering over Zen’s forbidding glare, the clasped hand over Kiki’s mouth, Mitsuhide’s wide-eyes-- “Isn’t that an interesting question. Now just what does make Lord Shuuka such an attractive partner?”

Obi lifts his head, still trembling, but it’s not some medical event. Oh no, he’s just-- just laughing. Shirayuki catches her breath, holds it, and thinks of a triangle becoming a decagon.

Nothing is wrong. Everyone is safe. Healthy.

“W-well.” Zen’s voice creaks from the reach she suspects he’s about to make. “He has ah, hmm...”

“Large tracts of land?” Obi offers, so helpful.

Zen hands stiffen where he holds them out in front of him. “I wasn’t going to say that.”

His brows give a wiggle. “Looks like it.”

“I--”

“Castle Perilous already has land,” Shirayuki interjects, hoping the tremble hasn’t reached her voice. “Plenty of it.”

Obi leans back in his chair with a grin. “Castle Perilous has everything! Large tracts of lands, at least two level or dungeons, an ominous name...”

She flicks him a flat look. “My point is, Lynet doesn’t need a manor to maintain-- she already left that to save her sister. She has a quest, she doesn’t need--” she waves her hands, steady now-- “romance.”

Obi’s brow ticks up, just the tiniest bit.

“I mean, not with a man she’s only known a week,” she blurts out, feeling heat simmering beneath her collar, licking at her ears. “Why would I be playing D&D if I just wanted to-- to marry Lynet off to the first guy she saw?”

Zen’s mouth fall slack, eyes glued to his character sheet. “Huh.”

“Gee,” Kiki drawls, “all that production for nothing.”

“Shut--”

“If we’re all quite done?” Izana suggests pointedly. “I believe Lady Lynet is not quite done breaking her beau’s heart. Also--” those pale eyes cut toward her, eyebrow quirked pedantically-- “it’s Pathfinder, by the way.”

Kiki lets out a huff. “It’s the same thing.”

With exaggerated care, Izana nudges her character on the map. “It’s really not.”

You take Shuuka’s hands in your own; they’re soft, callused on the mounts like Arturius’. A swordsman’s hands, though not a warrior’s. He flushes beneath your touch, and you wonder if he is bothered by the rough touch of your own, marred by scrapes and scars, so unlike a lady’s that you might as well be a different country. That is what your father had called you once: a different country, the fondness thick in his voice.

That had been before. He had been a different man. You had been a different Lynet. A time you would long for, if you thought it might make any difference at all.

“I have my own path I must tread, my lord,” you murmur, “one that cannot be turned aside for my own comfort.”

He nods, head heavy. “I see. You too have your own quest of honor, like His Grace. A glory that only you can seek.”

“If only it were for glory--” your fingers stiffen in his hold, teeth gritting down on the troubles that long to pass through them-- “instead of to right the wrongs that have been done.”

His brows lift, and you do not imagine the offer in his eyes, the one that says you would only need to breathe the word, and he would raise his own blade in your honor. “To you?”

Your tongue would tie itself in knots if it could. “Among many.”

“I understand.” His hand squeezes yours so gently, as if you were a thing that could break, a glass woman cradled in his palms. That is a thing these lords do not understand; glass may be delicate once blown thread-thin, but it is first forged in fire, born at a temperature that would char flesh. “Perhaps, though, when you are done...”

It feels cruel to reject him, a man that loves the lady you could have been, but it is crueler still to give him hope where there is little to spare.

“Perhaps,” you say, stilted. It is too mild an answer for the passion in his eyes, but you learned long ago that fate’s whims could not be foreseen by any mortal heart. “But please, my lord. Do not wait for me.”

“It will be hard not to, my lady, for a woman like you is not easily found. However--” he lets out a raw chuckle-- “I do know what love sounds like when I hear it, and it...does not warm your voice when we speak.”

“I...”

Shuuka holds up one hand, chagrined, the other still wrapped in yours. “You owe me no explanation. I only mean to wish you well.”

He lifts your hand to his lips, laying a soft kiss to its back. “May God go with you, my lady. I pray you will not forget your loyal servant in your trials.”

“I...will not,” you breathe, wishing you might be the girl that could love this man. You cannot, you cannot, but oh, how much easier your road would be if you did. “Thank you.”

“Well,” Mitsuhide hums, smile hung awkwardly. “He seems nice!”

Zen nods, pink looming just under the apples of his cheeks. “A good, ah, potential ally.”

Shirayuki stares.

“You two,” Kiki starts, every syllable so overflowing with derision they practically leak, “are ridiculous.”

Obi looks fit to bursting as well-- at least, if the state of his twitching mouth is anything to go by-- but before he can get one word in edgewise, Izana clears his throat.

“Now that this little interlude is complete,” he drawls, casting a wary glance over the table. “I expect that we can move on?”

“No, wait, I’m sorry!” Shirayuki bursts out breathlessly. “Just--” she glances at Obi, squirming under the question in his eyes-- “just one more thing. I promise.”

Izana settles back in his chair, brows raised. “Oh no, by all means. Color me...” His mouth curves into a smirk that would cause a cleverer woman to reconsider. “...Intrigued.”

Your neck aches; beneath your veil, your hair lies heavy on your scalp, pinned and tied to within an inch of its life. There is no more of it than usual, you are sure, but it weighs on you now, a fetter meant to hobble your steps. A shackle meant to drag you down, to halt your progress forward. Perhaps that is always what it was meant to be.

A proper lady would not remove her covering until she was safely ensconced in her chambers; such manners had been pressed upon you since your first courses, first by your nurse and then again by your father. Modesty was a woman’s shield, and you clung to it then as if it could protect you, afraid of what might happen to you without it. No, afraid of who you might be.

But you are no fine lady, not by anything but birth. Such trappings were ripped from your hands, and now--

Now you are Lynet, alchemist and arcanist, and you keep nothing that will not serve you. Your fingers wedge beneath the fine linen, pins falling to your feet as you work them free. Everything about Laxdo may squeeze you, trying to fit you back in the mold your father made, but you will not, not ever again.

It may have been years since you last stepped in Laxdo’s halls, but this past week has made it something like a home, your feet carrying you with ease through the twisting corridors. A different answer but a moment ago and these would have been yours, your home in truth, but to stay here, to forget the power that you tamed with your own two hands and become nothing more than Shuuka’s wife--

It’s unthinkable. A life not meant for you. Though your sister would like it fine enough.

Your feet stutter beneath you, breath caught tight in your chest. Who are you to say what she would want, when you--

You shake yourself. This guilt won’t serve either, not if you let it hold you in place. Your gaze lifts, and finally you see where your industrious feet have brought you: Beaumains’ door.

It was inevitable that they would; your own chamber is on the same hall, mere steps away. But you had not meant to come here, to linger, save that-- that you had, for he has been on your mind since he delivered you to the dais, since Arturius had him sent from it to the revelry below. His voice has thrummed beneath your veins since you looked across the hall and saw him missing from the tables below, your mind turning over every word he spoke this night to see if his disappearance is merely a missing piece to a puzzle you have already solved. But no solutions have appeared before you, and now--

Now you stand here, head bare at his threshold, wondering whether you will be welcome.

You hand raises, hesitating above the grain. You could leave now, and no one would ever know. But if you did, if you simply left with no word, and found him gone on the morrow...

You knock twice. Then thrice. There is not a whisper from the other side of the door. You know better than to assume that means there is no man, not such a one as Beaumains.

“Beaumains,” you murmur, palm pressed flat against the wood. “Beaumains, if you are there...”

Your lips press to a thin line. You had not planned this, planned any of it, and your words will not come. You do not even know which ones you speak if they would.

Your forehead rests against the door, the ridges of its grain digging into your skin. “If you are there, I am here.”

There is no answer but silence.

“Goodnight,” you say finally. “I will...” You hesitate, breath catching in your chest. “I will see you on the morrow.”

Izana, at least, is happy to move on.

“If you have spells to prepare,” he offers graciously, “you may do so now, before we start the morning.”

Kiki raises an imperious brow. “I take it we’ll be doing combat, then?”

With a beatific smile, Izana informs her, “You may prepare for any eventuality you see fit.”

“Yeah.” Zen sighs, flipping to his spell list. “Combat.”

Shirayuki shuffles through her index cards, chewing on her cheek. Next to her Obi has affected a casual slouch, arm thrown haphazardly over his chair back and legs stretching well onto Zen’s side of the table. He doesn’t seem stressed, not like how she feels sitting in the splash zone of of their high stakes game of I’m Not Touching You during this fantasy field trip.

Her phone slides into her hand easier than it ever has, thumb sliding surreptitiously across the keyboard. Are you okay?

Her teeth grit down as soon as it’s sent, regret bitter on her tongue. It’s a stupid thing to ask; a feeling that grows when she watches him work his phone out of his pocket, eyebrows lifting as he reads.

His mouth curls into a satisfied smirk. peachy keen

Are you sure? Shirayuki peeks up from her cards, casting a subtle glance toward the end of the table. Izana’s bowed behind the screen, pen gracefully curving over page-- notes. He’s taking notes. I wanted to make sure Zen isn’t scaring you off.

lol impossible

A breath hisses out her nose, fingers tightening around the case. Leave it to Obi to make this into a joke. He’s really not a bad guy, I promise. I don’t know why he’s choosing to act like one.

A smothered noise hiccups out beside her, too loud in the room’s silence. Four heads bob up, three blond and one brown, and Obi smooths the noise out into a cough, a gentle clearing of his throat.

“Dorito,” he says with a tight wheeze, mouth twitching. “Musta gone down the wrong pipe.”

“Ah,” Izana hums, his eyes narrowing. “Of course.”

Zen, however, frowns. “We have Doritos?”

Obi’s mouth stretches into a smile. “You did.”

“How--?”

“Are we done with preparations, then?” Izana asks smoothly, settling back in his chair. “Should we continue...?”

“Ah, no!” Zen grimaces, ducking his head. “Just-- another minute.”

i got a good idea, Obi texts once. heads are down. but don worry im not going newere His teeth flash as he sends, jus had 2 take care f s/t

She glances up, and his grin is there to greet her, only growing wider when he reads the question in her eyes.

“Don’t worry, my lady,” he murmurs, shifting close enough for the words to ghost over her cheek. “Trust me.”

You wake to hue and cry, to chaos in the halls. A lord’s daughter might lay abed still, waiting for her maids to fetch her, but you were the Lady of Castle Perilous; when Morgaine comes to fetch you, you are already dressed, tucking the last tresses of red beneath your coif. She blinks, those midnight-dark eyes going wide before her expression settles into something far more grim, something more resigned than surprise.

“Beaumains isn’t in his chamber,” she tells you, no cushion in her words, only the bruising impact of the truth. “We suspect he never made it back to it.”

Your breath catches in your chest, struggling against its cage. “That can’t be true. Last night I...”

Spoke to his door, with not a single sign of him within.

“When the maid came to tend his hearth this morning, his cot was undisturbed and the fire burnt down to embers.” Morgaine fixes you with a steady gaze, braced as a man about to take a blow. “We mean to look for him.”

You snatch your cloak from where it hangs, winding it about your shoulders. “Then let us go. If he has been taken, then--”

“I suspect he has been taken by naught by stupidity, the same as any man,” the princess grouses, falling into step beside you as you hurry down the steps to the yard. “My brother wounded his pride, and he sought to restore it. Or at least commit some feat to let it scab cleanly.”

It rankles how much each word rings true. You had no brothers at Castle Perilous, but men you had in spades, and every one fool enough to put himself in mortal peril to salve his pride. “Let us hope you are wrong?”

Morgaine lets out a rasping laugh. “You prefer him to be in the hands of the enemy, then?”

“Rather than his own stupidity?” you ask, breathless, waiting for the yard’s door to open. “Always.”

When they do, your heart stops, stuttering right up into your throat.

“Alas.” The word hisses through Morgaine’s smile. “You are destined to be disappointed.”

Beaumains sits in the yard, perched merrily atop a cart drawn into the middle of it. You cannot, from this angle, divine what it is filled with, only that it is solid enough to hold him and his ego. Temper climbs up your neck, as choking as any ivy; to think, you worried about his heart enough to trouble your own, and now he sits here as if naught but a moment has passed from the night into the evening, as if this were but yet another day he spent in your company.

Oh, how you could climb that cart yourself to give him a piece of your mind. You do not-- would not, before all these men of Laxdo-- but the temptation lashes yours soles as thoroughly as any devil.

“Beaumains.” Arturius marches forth from the crowd, wrath crackling in the air as he walks. “What is the meaning of this? We awake to you missing, and now--?”

“So I heard.” His smile shines in the morning sun, just as brightly as his horns. “I was here, of course. Waiting.”

The Prince of the Angles flushes crimson, the whole of his frame shaking. “Then why would you not--?”

“For a lark.” His teeth flash; fitting since he wields his words like a blade. “Though I did leave last night. You see, something bothered me, and not just your manners.”

“Demon--”

“Devil,” Beaumains corrects, as fastidious as any tutor. “And you see, all this celebrating, it didn’t make sense. Not when we hadn’t solved who cursed our friend here.”

He holds one dark, clawed hand out to where Shuuka stands, gaping. “Me? But I thought--?”

“You know as well as any that we have been searching tirelessly,” Arturius snaps, temper well and truly frayed. “And now you come to mock us for it? Is it a fight you ask for? Is that what you desire? For I am happy to give it to you, if you do not--”

“I want no fight,” Beaumains scoffs. “I want results. And so...”

With a desultory kick, the back of the cart falls open, and out of it--

Ah, and out of it pours forth a mound of bodies.

“And so,” he continues with relish, “I got some.”

“You can’t do that,” Zen murmurs, but it’s not in anger. No, that’s shock that slackens his jaw, and with the number of tokens Obi just dropped on the map, it’s working on Shirayuki too. “That’s not-- he can’t do that, can he?”

“He just did,” Izana replies, somehow both weary and amused at the same time.

“But...” Zen stares at them, more than a dozen tokens sprawled over the grid. “How.”

Obi grins. “Skill.”

Izana casts him a dark, yet exhausted, glance. “He rolled very, very well.”

Shuuka skirts nearer, his face pale with shock. “Those are the men who sold us firewood. The very same you pulled from our hearths.”

“That they are.” Beaumains sits back on the cart; now that you can see inside it you see his seat is not a crate, as you had assumed, but two bodies stacked atop each other, the blood drying around their mouths and necks. “Or at least that’s what I was hoping, Master, since otherwise I’d have made a mortifying mistake indeed.”

Arturius has not moved, instead staring down at the hand that laid at his feet, at the twisted grimace the deceased’s face has twisted into. “You did this alone? With no other man to help you?”

“I surely did,” the devil sing-songs, his grin honing to a point. “Could you find me such a one, daring enough to help on a night so dark as the last?”

The prince’s jaw sets hard as granite, but his eyes belie his sternness, shining with heady mix of admiration and something that savors strongly of jealousy. “Well,” he grits out, shoulders jerking towards his ears. “I cannot fault you your skill, devil, but now there is no chance of us learning how or why this deed came to be done.”

Beaumains scoffs, enjoying every moment he sits above the Prince of all the Angles. “Have a little faith, O Master Mine. Before they met the fates they bought with their cursed coin, I asked them what man or beast compelled them to act. And they told me--” his eyes flash with triumph-- “a man in red.”

There is no chance for you to stifle your gasp, not when you see that armor shining before you, crimson in candlelight. Not when even now, that spiked gauntlet reaches toward you--

“Lynet?” Morgaine’s grasp brings you back to yourself, to the moment you inhabit. “Are you well?”

“Fine, fine,” you assure her. “It is only--”

That you may know who this enemy of Laxdo is. That you yourself have come to see him vanquished, but yet--

You cannot speak of it. Not even if you wished.

“You may thank me at your leisure, sirrah,” Beaumain crows, getting to his feet. Even now your stomach roils as you look, the blood nothing more than a black sheen on his boots. “I am ever at your--” he leaps, landing on the ground before Arturius’s gaze. “At your service.”

And with a singular, extravagant bow, Beaumains tips face first into the cobbles.

“Wait.” Shirayuki blinks down at the toppled figure, resting on a spray of tokens, right next to a white-painted 1. “What just happened?”

“Beaumains--” Izana’s mouth twitches at a corner-- “had but a single hit point left.”

Long fingers pluck the die from its resting place among the bodies, as if quick reflexes could keep them all from seeing the rock Obi just dropped. He glowers down at it-- all black and golden and glimmering, just like him-- and shoves it back into his bag. “And glass ankles, apparently.”

A low, heady laugh rolls across the table, Kiki kicking up her feet with a smirk. “This is why we invest in CON.”

Obi scoffs. “Please, I made it out with HP to spare.”

“Yeah,” she says, “one.”

“Well,” he grumbles, “it was enough, wasn’t it?”

You stoop to where Beaumains sits, propped up by the stable’s post and Bedwyr’s shoulder, hand raised to heal--

“Please.” Bedwyr’s impressive hand gently guides yours away, his smile tight and concerned. “You must save your strength, my lady.”

“I just awoke, sir,” you remind him, mouth pulled into an irritated line. “I am as fresh as I shall ever be.”

The knight cants his head, though you know him too well to believe he might fully acquiesce to you. “I know that well enough. But it is your talent we will need, should any challenges arise before day’s end. And this is entirely within my--”

“No, no.” Beaumains stirs at his side, eyes sliding open to relieve the unrelenting shadow of his face. “Let the pretty lady lay her hands on me, paladin. Her touch is far softer than yours.”

Ah, it would have been best for him not to say such things before the whole of Castle Laxdo. Or at least, not in front of its lord. The weight of his gaze already presses heavy on your back, growing only more weighty as Beaumains sears a bleary line up you with his gaze.

He’s far to gone to keep it steady; already it wanders, tracing Bedwyr’s lines as well, and--

“Wait, no, never mind,” he slurs, squinting up at that giant of a man. “You’ll do too, sir, if you’re so eager to put your hand--”

Bedwyr presses a palm to the center of Beaumain’s forehead, and with an authority you know can only come from the Lord in Heaven, he intones, “SLEEP.”

“You know, big guy,” Obi drawls, grin already stretching from ear to ear. “I’m pretty sure paladins don’t get those spells. And fighters definitely don’t.”

Mitsuhide glances up from his sheet, straight at Izana.

He smirks. “I’ll allow it.”

Beaumains sleeps the slumber of the ensorcelled. That is, complete and utterly quiet.

Bedwyr peered down, and with a nod of his head, declares, “That’s much better.”

#obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #dungeons & dragons au #my fic #ans #listen i know i said ONE chapter until the end of this arc #but like #TECHNCIALLY next chapter is gonna be the OOC wrap up for this arc #the session is complete though!#fans of this fic may REJOICE #you have two updated planned over the next two months too #Ch 9 is already in progress #and provided it does not grow out of proportion...should be complete by mid-september #and there's another update planned for late october that should hopefully kick off next arc #and perhaps...a POV CHANGE >:3c

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fangirl-ramblings · 3 years

Text

Pairing: Charles Smith x Female Readee

Word Count: 3222

Summary: Love is in the air around camp, but has Cupid's arrow somehow missed you and Charles?

Notes: The fluffiest of fluff, Reader POV / Charles POV

This @rdr-secret-cupid gift is for one of my favourite people - @12timetraveler. My sincere apologies for this Valentine's / birthday present being so late, but hopefully it's well worth the wait 😘

~* Tumblr Masterlist | Stories on AO3 *~

Cupid's Arrow

Reader's POV

14th Feb 1899

You looked around to see Dutch sitting in his tent, whispering sweet nothings to Miss O'Shea while Sean was trying his hardest to win over Karen, whose icy demeanour was starting to thaw with each passing drink he was plying her with. Hell, even John had had a little too much to drink and summoned the courage to pick a small posy of flowers and present them to Abigail as a small Valentine's gift.

You liked seeing the camp happy like this, all relaxed in each other's company; the likes of Javier and Tilly sitting next to each other as the former strummed on his guitar and filled the air with a sweet melody, or young Mary-Beth, enjoying the latest romance novel she acquired, only to tear her eyes away from the page to gaze lovingly towards an oblivious Arthur before continuing her story.

And while Micah's grumbling about it "not bein' right, someone like him talkin' to a fiiinnnne woman like her," as he watched young Lenny saying something to make Jenny giggle from across the way, was enough to for everybody to tell him to shut up, it certainly wasn't enough to dampen the mood around the place.

It was even nice to see Miss Grimshaw laugh and smile as she joined the older camp members in their reminiscences about previous Valentine's days with their own past loves, soon followed by raucous singing of filthy songs but as you took your makeshift seat of a crate at the poker table, you couldn’t but help feel Cupid’s arrow had struck everyone and somehow bypassed you.

You had secretly hoped that Charles would have joined in with the party, but the minute Dutch wound up his gramophone Charles had disappeared into the woods to take his position on guard duty.

While you'd taken many opportunities to try to make conversation and try to get to know him better over the last few months, you still found him to be a man of few words - but you liked that about him. The camp was full enough of loud-mouthed characters like Sean and Uncle that any moment you found yourself sitting in a comfortable silence with Mr. Smith was bliss.

As the night drew on and more and more alcohol was heartly consumed by all, you felt your eyes growing heavy and couldn’t summon the energy to sing along with the lyrics of “The Louisville Maid”.

"Well as fun as this is, I'm gonna call it a night," you announced to your campmates, knowing full well that nobody was really listening. You sighed as they were caught up in their merriment and headed towards your tent… only to walk straight into Charles.

"Whoa, careful there," he told you, giving you a small smile as he placed those big, strong hands of his upon your arms to help stop you from falling over on the spot.

Your face burned as you felt your face grow redder and with each passing second as you enjoyed his gentle but firm touch, causing you to look away to avoid staring into those beautiful, deep brown eyes of his. You hoped that he thought your flushed appearance was a result of all the alcohol running through your veins and not the thought currently running through your mind; what it would be like if he suddenly dipped and kissed you with a fervent passion?

"Sorry Charles, I… I… I hadn't realised you'd finished your shift already. Want a drink?"

"I'm okay, thank you, I was gonna try and get some sleep… and I think you should too - big day tomorrow isn't it?" Your brow furrowed as you tried to rack your brain. Had you arranged to go on a job and completely forgot? Charles watched you, with a confused look. "Oh, I thought you'd mentioned the other day that it was your birthday? Maybe I got it wrong?"

"Oh my word, yes it is," you gasped in wonderment, "I can't believe you remembered."

"Guess I just have a good memory for special occasions," he grinned, brushing a loose hair from your face without thinking, making you weak at the knees.

He cleared his throat and moved his hand away. "Well we best both go get some shut eye before the sun comes up. Good night and sweet dreams."

You watched him walk to his tent, before heading to your own. Still smiling to yourself, you drew the flaps shut and fell on the cot, relieving that brief moment you just had with Charles over and over as you closed your eyes and let sleep wash over you.

15th Feb 1899

As the sun beamed through the gaps of your tent, you woke up to a very different camp atmosphere compared to the night before. It was eerily quiet; with everybody still in bed, sleeping off the hangovers they'd given themselves at the party.

Deciding to make the most of having a quiet camp all to yourself, you sat yourself up and stretched - your muscles and joints aching in a way that made you laugh. Another year older today and your body was certainly reminding you of that fact with all the aches and pains you suddenly started feeling.

A part of you doubted anybody else would be able to remember that today was your birthday but you smiled as you saw Mary-Beth hadn't forgotten; she'd wrapped a romance novel with one of her ribbons and left it on your trunk. Next to it was a little handwritten note from her, wishing you a very happy birthday and how "the way the heroine in this story reminds me of how you act around Charles, maybe if you read it you'll end up with your true love too. x"

You playfully rolled your eyes; ever the romantic, Mary-Beth had seen you gazing at Charles one day and decided you were destined to be together.

Pulling on some fresh clothes, you stepped outside and made your way towards the coffee pot, presuming nobody would have thought to wash it out and prepare it ready for the morning. Yet, to your surprise, you lifted it up to find it freshly brewed and still piping hot.

“I figured everybody would be wanting some when they woke up,” Charles chuckled, walking behind you carrying some logs for the campfire.

“I’d say; seems they all had a lot to celebrate,” you laughed, pouring yourself a cup. “You want one?” you asked, offering Charles the filled mug currently in your hand.

“I’m okay thanks, I had one before I made a start on tidying the place up.”

“Oh trust me, I wouldn’t worry too much about that today - Grimshaw will have such a headache, she'll be far more focused on getting all the quieter jobs done," you giggled knowing from previous experience how badly Susan seemed to suffer from next morning hangovers.

He carefully placed the chopped wood next to the campfire before turning his attention back to you. "Oh I bet," he grinned, his eyes twinkling. "Actually, I have an idea that might help keep camp running smoothly and stop people grumbling.'

"Oh?" Curiosity had gotten the best of you and you were intrigued to know what he was thinking.

"I saw supplies were running low and was thinking of doing some hunting later… a good hearty stew might be what the others need to recover," rushing his words out before casting his eyes to the ground. "I, erm… I was wondering if you wanted to join me?"

"What? Because I'm the only other person sober enough to safely use a weapon right now?" you teased.

"That's one reason, but I'd also like some good company."

You stood gobsmacked as he turned away from you, quickly making his way over to Taima, pulling something from her saddle.

"I… I'd like to spend time with you too, but I'm afraid my pistol is no good for hunting." You hung your head in disappointment, mentally kicking yourself that this could be your one chance to be alone with the man you'd admired for all these months - and you've lost it because you never took the time to invest in decent hunting equipment.

"I can help you with that," Charles told you, pulling out an ornate looking bow and handing it to you. "I made it… for your birthday."

"For me?" Shocked by his act of kindness, you traced your fingers over each of the detail engravings that ran along each of the limbs, tears starting to cloud your vision. "This is beautiful, but are you sure you mean to give this to me?"

"Of course… a beautiful bow for a beautiful lady.” A sudden flash of fear crossed Charles’ eyes as he realised what he had just said, his body tensing.

"You… think I'm beautiful?" Your eyes looking deep into his, searching for the truth.

He nodded. "The most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes on… I'm sorry, I didn't mean to put you on the spot like that. If it's too awkward, we can just forget the hunting…"

He stopped mid-sentence as you kissed his cheek, his body relaxing as he realised he hadn't made a mistake in telling you.

"It's not awkward at all, I've liked you for a long time but I could never work out if the feeling is mutual." You gently thumbed his cheek, "Let's go on this hunting trip and talk about this in private shall we?" You suggested as you signaled for Charles to see what you could see.

Stood behind him was a small audience of John and Mary-Beth, both of whom were grinning over to you both.

Charles playfully rolled his eyes and walked you away from their gaze.

"Sounds like a good idea, wanna head out now?"

"Lead the way Mr. Smith." You held out your hand and he gladly took hold.

"Oh wait, you'll need some of these too" he reached back into his saddle to hand you a bunch of arrows… only to be confused as he heard you laughing.

"What's so funny?" Charles asked, trying to read your expression.

"Nothing… just looks like Cupid's arrows found me after all."

Charles' POV

14th Feb 1899

“I’ll take over here if you want,” John grumbled, clutching his face as he approached where Charles was currently taking up guard duty in the wooded area on the outskirts of camp. “I reckon my Valentine's night is as good as over.”

Charles turned to face his campmate, the moonlight showing a fresh red looking handprint across John's cheek. "You blew it with Abigail then?"

"Yep, I pushed my luck just a little too much," John chuckled lightly, "But I'm sure I'll survive. Go on, you go enjoy yourself… I saw [y/n] looking all lonesome up there, she could probably do with some company."

John waggled his eyebrows as Charles pretended to scowl; alcohol had given him loose lips one night and he had ended up confiding in Arthur and John about his feelings about the camp lady he'd taken a shine to. But he couldn’t hold the expression for long as a smile crept over his lips he thought about you.

"I'll probably just get some shut-eye instead, but I have been busy making this for her." He lifted up a beautiful bow that was resting against a nearby trunk. "It's her birthday tomorrow and she mentioned once she'd be interested in learning to hunt properly."

"You're a big old softie, ain't you Charles Smith?" John chuckled. "Well, I'm sure she'll appreciate the thought."

“Don’t you go ruining my reputation, John,” he laughed, making his way to the clearing where all the gang's horses grazed peacefully.

Taima looked up, nickering as she saw her owner nearby.

“Just a passing visit for now girl, but we can go out on a ride tomorrow,” he whispered to her, stroking her neck as she nuzzled against him. “In the meantime, I want you to keep this safe for me.” Charles lifted his saddle onto the hitching post that Taima was attached to, and carefully placed the bow into the holster on it. She watched her owner with curiosity, her ears pricking up as heard Charles rummaging in his saddlebag to retrieve an apple to reward his trusted Appaloosa for her loyalty.

The music was still playing as he walked back into camp, only this time it was Pearson’s accordion and Uncle’s banjo that filled the air as Miss Grimshaw sang a bawdy song. It was clear that the party wasn't ending anytime soon, but that wasn't going to stop Charles from trying to get some sleep. Heading towards his tent, he found himself looking around for a quick glance of his heart's desire, only for you to crash straight into him.

"Whoa, careful there," he told you, gently placing his hands upon your arms to help stop you from falling over on the spot. He could have swore he felt a jolt of electricity flowing through his veins as his skin touched yours.

"Sorry Charles, I… I… I hadn't realised you'd finished your shift already. Want a drink?"

"I'm okay thank you, I was gonna try and get some sleep… and I think you should too - big day tomorrow isn't it?" A flash of confusion crossed your face and Charles began to doubt himself. "Oh, I thought you'd mentioned the other day that it was your birthday? Maybe I got it wrong?"

"Oh my word, yes it is," you gasped in wonderment. "I can't believe you remembered."

"Guess I just have a good memory for special occasions," he grinned, brushing a loose hair from your face without thinking, before catching himself and moving his hand away.

Not really wanting the moment to be over but knowing he must tear himself away lest he stay admiring you all night, he cleared his throat.

"Well we best both go get some shut eye before the sun comes up. Good night and sweet dreams."

Making the short walk back to his own tent, his heart soared as he thought back over your reaction to him remembering your birthday. Now he couldn’t wait to see how you would react to your present.

Settling on his bed roll, he watched you draw your tent closed before allowing himself finally sleep and dream of you.

Charles found himself waking at the crack of dawn, just as the last few stragglers were stumbling towards their bedrolls . Realising he could effectively have the tranquillity of camp to himself, he gladly jumped up and set about getting ready for a new day.

Firstly he made his way over to Pearson’s wagon to grab a few coffee beans and started brewing a fresh pot. Noticing the meat supplies were running dangerously low, Charles made a mental note to go out hunting later and wondered if this could be the ideal opportunity to ask the birthday girl to join him.

While he waited for that certain someone to wake up, he had already stoked the fires back to life and disposed of the empty bottles that were scattered all around camp before finally enjoying a short break with a fresh cup of coffee.

It wasn't until he had made a start on chopping wood he had heard footsteps behind him and smiled to himself as he looked over to see [y/n] making her way over to the coffee pot.

“I figured everybody would be wanting some when they woke up,” Charles chuckled, walking up to her with an armful of logs for the campfire.

“I’d say; seems they all had a lot to celebrate,” she laughed in that sweet way that made Charles’ feel all warm inside as she poured a cup. “You want one?” asking as she offered the mug in her hand towards him.

“I’m okay thanks, I had one before I made a start on tidying the place up," he explained, walking over towards where the chopped wood was to be stored.

“Oh trust me, I wouldn’t worry too much about that today - Grimshaw will have such a headache, she'll be far more focused on getting all the quieter jobs done,"

Charles chuckled as he carefully placed the firewood down before realising this was his chance and turned his attention back to you.

"Oh I bet," grinning with a twinkle in his eyes. "Actually, I have an idea that might help keep camp running smoothly and stop people grumbling.'

"Oh?" you asked, tilting your head with curiosity.

He had noticed in the past that each time you asked a question about something that had piqued your interest, you would often tilt your head in this way and found it utterly adorable.

"I was thinking of doing some hunting later… a good hearty stew might be what the others need to recover," Charles rushed his words out before looking away bashfully. "I, erm… I was wondering if you wanted to join me?"

"What? Because I'm the only other person sober enough to safely use a weapon right now?" she smirked, and he felt his insides flip-flop. She was so damn beautiful.

"That's one reason, but I'd also like some good company," he told her, quickly turning to go fetch the bow from Taima’s saddle.

"I… I'd like to enjoy your company too, but I'm afraid my pistol is no good for hunting." She lowered her head in what seemed to be disappointment.

"I can help you with that," Charles told her, carefully placing the bow in her hands. "I made it….for your birthday."

"For me?" He watched as she traced her fingers over the engravings he spent so much time on, hoping the tears brimming in her eyes were because she was overjoyed. "This is beautiful… but are you sure it's for me?"

"Of course… a beautiful bow for a beautiful lady.” He kicked himself inwardly for saying it aloud,

"You… think I'm beautiful?" Your eyes looking deep into his, searching for the truth.

He nodded. "The most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes on… I'm sorry, I didn't mean to put you on the spot like that. If it's too awkward, we can just forget the hunting…"

He stopped mid-sentence as you kissed his cheek. The feeling of embarrassment replaced by one feeling like he could soar into the sky right now.

"It's not awkward at all, I've liked you for a long time but I could never work out if the feeling is mutual." Gently thumbing his cheek, you suggested, "Let's go on this hunting trip and talk about this in private shall we?"

He followed your gaze to see Mary-Beth and John grinning at you both as they stood by their tents.

Playfully rolling his eyes, Charles guided you away from their gaze.

"Sounds like a good idea, wanna head out now?"

"Lead the way Mr. Smith." You held out your hand and he gladly took hold.

"Oh wait, you'll need some of these too" he reached back into his saddle to hand you a bunch of arrows… only to be confused as he heard you laughing.

"What's so funny?" Charles asked, hoping thewhole entire moment wasn't a set up so camp could make fun of him

"Nothing… just looks like Cupid's arrows found me after all"

#fangirl writes #charles smith x f!reader #charles smith x female reader #rdr2 fanfic #rdr secret cupid 2021 #fluff

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daveyjacobss · 4 years

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something utterly divine

racetrack higgins x reader

summary: it’s safe to say that when y/n l/n volunteered to help the nuns she certainly wasn’t expecting this outcome. (or, in which racetrack higgins and y/n l/n find something utterly divine amongst the dirty, broken down streets of new york city)

a/n: uhhhh hi i know i haven’t posted any fics in like a year but please take this 11k word long fic as my heartfelt apology, i guess? i really hope you guys like it!! and, as always, please feel free to come tell me what you thought of it :)

masterlist

__________

New York city broke Y/N’s heart. Every day she would walk by kids out on the street, unnaturally thin with sunken in eyes that made them resemble a corpse more than a child — and the kind of dirty that would take at least three baths to wash away. The wealthy strut the streets with their noses upturned and their heads held high, refusing to look at the kids they considered vermin. Y/N never wanted any of them to think she was like that, but she could hardly bear to look at them half the time without tearing up or feeling a sudden rush of sickness.

Her family wasn’t wealthy enough to just be handing out money in order to help those in need, but she was desperate to help in any way she could. That was why she had approached the nuns in the first place, she knew that they aided in providing food — and sometimes even shelter — for the kids of New York and had wanted to offer her own services. She had been received kindly by the nuns and they praised her for her initiative, making her bashful. Though she was eager to help, she was remarkably shy around the nuns when she started out (partly because more than a few of them seemed to think that her helping them meant she had intentions to become a nun herself, which was far from the truth). Over time, though, the older women managed to bring her out of her shell and she grew more and more comfortable around them. She was only a messenger when she started out, really, passing notes between churches and reminders between nuns rather than doing any real hands on work (despite her insistence that she was perfectly capable). For some reason she could not for the life of her discern, the nuns never let her join them on their outings where they actually interacted with the people of the city. She grumbled about it often, and though they indulged her complaining their responses were only ever lines about keeping her out of harm's way and looks exchanged between each other that Y/N didn’t know how to decipher.

It was an early morning in March when she was asked to take a message to one of her favorite nuns, Mary, as quickly as possible at her post on one the wagons that they took out each day to distribute food to the children of the streets. Despite the fog that was hanging over the city, draining it of all its color, and the cold breeze that danced it’s way into her skirt, her heart could not be held down as it bounced around her chest in nervousness. She’d never been given the chance to truly see the nuns at work with any of the people they helped, and even though she wouldn’t be playing much of a role in that part, she would finally be at the scene.

It didn’t take much time to find the location of the wagon, the crowd of kids that surrounded it making it easy to spot even from a few blocks away. When she was given the message to deliver she hadn’t been told who exactly Sister Mary was handing out food to that day, but as she drew nearer it was clear that the crowd was made up primarily of newsies. She felt the nerves buzzing around in her body amp up in volume as she made her way around the crowd. Yes, she wanted to help and yes, she was getting better at not flinching away from street kids because of how her heart clenched at the sight of them, but a large crowd made up of mostly boys (some around her age and some even older) would always intimidate her no matter who was in it.

Skirting around the edge of the crowd, she reached the wagon easily. Mary, luckily, was standing on the ground beside it handing some bread to a young boy whose face was smeared with dirt. Y/N smiled kindly at him as she approached and he nodded in her direction with a maturity that was far beyond his years.

“They’re finally letting you out into the world, are they?” Sister Mary asked, grinning widely as Y/N walked up. She laughed slightly, coming to stand next to the nun and look out over the crowd.

“Only to come give you a message.” Mary pouted sympathetically at her.

“One day they’ll let you actually join us out here, don’t you worry about that. You’ve got at least one of us on your side.” She winked and Y/N laughed again. Sister Mary had always been one of her favorites because she was remarkably more lighthearted than most of her sisters, always ready to crack a joke. That, and she had taken Y/N under her wing immediately after meeting her.

“You know I always appreciate you standing up for me.” She kept the light tone in her voice, but there was genuine gratefulness in her eyes and Mary reached over to squeeze her hand.

“Now, what was that message you had for me?”

Y/N relayed the message that Sister Anna had given her, taking care to make sure she got each and every detail right. Mary nodded along in concentration as she listened, going to speak quickly with one of the other nuns present after Y/N had finished. Waiting for her to come back, Y/N took the time to gaze out into the crowd, letting her eyes glide over the faces of all the boys and girls who came for a quick bite that would most likely have to last them the whole day.

Her gaze was instantly drawn to a few boys near the front, louder than those around them as they talked and joked around with each other. One of them was wearing glasses perched atop his nose, and he was poking fun at one of the others with him, a boy sporting dirtied red hair underneath his cap, about him smelling bad. He was making a show of it, using his fingers to pinch to his nose and his other hand to wave away the air in front of him. A few of the other kids with him laughed at the antics and Y/N found herself letting out a quiet chuckle under her breath. The redhead rolled his eyes and responded in kind with a quip about his friend’s snoring, and Y/N smiled at how comfortable and playful they all seemed to be with each other.

It wasn’t until another boy with them started talking that she felt the air leave her lungs. She didn’t even really register what he was saying, only moved her gaze to find the source of the voice and froze upon seeing him. He looked to be about her age with unruly blonde curls peeking out from under his hat and an unlit cigar hanging out of his mouth. He was saying something that made all of the boys around him roar with laughter, lips moving around his cigar, but she couldn’t hear him — not with her heartbeat pounding in her ears, her eyes followed his every movement. There was no other way to put it: he was breathtakingly beautiful. He was the kind of boy she imagined heroines in her mother’s romance novels she sometimes read fell in love with at first sight, the kind of beautiful that could turn a sensible girl with no prior interest in romance into a bumbling mess.

“Oh dear,” she heard Mary whisper from beside her, startling her out of the trance the beautiful blonde boy had put her in. Mary’s eyes were trained on her with an eyebrow raised and a small, knowing smile on her face.

“Were you...” Y/N started, having to pause to take a breath. “Were you saying something?”

“No darling, only thinking something,” Mary reassured her, patting her arm gently. “If I’m not mistaken, I think you’ve fallen victim to one of the main reasons my sisters never wanted to bring you to one of these outings.” Y/N felt her face warm at Sister Mary’s words, hands grabbing at her skirt simply so she would have something to do with them.

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean,” she said, but even as her voice came out she could hear how breathless and high pitched she sounded. Mary practically snorted, moving so that she was facing the newsies instead of Y/N.

“So, which one was it?” She asked. Y/N sighed, knowing that there was no point in denying it. As subtly as she could, she pointed toward the boy that had caught her attention.

“That one there, with the blonde hair.”

Mary gave a surprised huff of laughter, her eyes turning toward the heavens. Y/N swore she could see her lips moving slightly, uttering a silent prayer.

“Oh my darling Y/N,” she said in a breathy, amused tone. “What on earth are we going to do with you?” Y/N tilted her head in confusion, furrowing her eyebrows at Sister Mary.

“What do you mean?” She asked, her grip on her skirt tightening out of anxiety. “It’s only a silly bout of infatuation, nothing that needs to be prayed over.” By then, the crowd was beginning to disperse as the newsies headed out for a day of selling. The other two nuns that had been with Mary were packing up all of their things and prepping the wagon to return to the church. Mary took a look around, glancing specifically at her sisters, before she answered.

“The boy in questions is a bit of a flirt,” she explained with a teasing smile on her face. “And he’s certainly one of the more, shall we say, rowdy newsies. I’ve no problem with you fancying him a bit, of course, but the others would have a fit. Especially if you decided to pursue the infatuation.” Y/N felt heat rush to her face as her eyes widened.

“Oh! No, I wouldn’t pursue it, of course.” Her words came out quickly, all running into one another. The look on Mary’s face made it clear just how much faith she had in Y/N’s reassurance. “Don’t look at me like that, you know I’d be much too shy to ever approach him.” She swatted Mary’s arm and the nun laughed again. She began to walk back toward the wagon, talking over her shoulder as she did.

“Of course you wouldn’t, dear. Just make sure you keep any fantasies and fascinations to yourself.” She winked one last time before her sisters helped her back into the wagon and they headed in the direction of the church. Y/N waved goodbye at them, all the while feeling the embarrassment at Sister Mary’s words curling up and knotting itself in her stomach.

On her way back home she stopped at the market to buy some food on her mother’s shopping list and, after second guessing herself, to buy a newspaper from a newsie situated near her house with a crutch under his arm and a warm smile on his face. The entire time she managed to keep her thoughts in check, and the blonde newsboy barely occurred to her for the rest of the day. It was only when she was lying in bed that night that she thought of him again, picturing the curve of his smile and wondering if she would ever get to see him up close so that she could find out the color of his eyes. She fantasized a storyline worthy of one of her mother’s books where they met in secret in the dead of night, and he came to her window like Romeo calling up to his Juliet.

But when she woke in the morning the fantasies were but distant memories, and she had much too busy a day to spend time dwelling on a boy she didn’t know. The blonde newsie was gone from her head.

It was only a week later that Sister Mary informed her with a sly smile that she had finally convinced the other nuns to let Y/N accompany her and Sister Margaret on the wagon the next morning. Y/N was alight with excitement and anxiety for the entire day after hearing the news, buzzing with energy. She was finally getting to do what she had always intended when she first volunteered herself to help the nuns.

She hadn’t thought about the blonde newsie for days, but as she struggled to sleep in the flurry of all of her jitters she wondered if she might catch a glimpse of him again.

__________

Racetrack Higgins was not particularly known for his manners. He was loud and boisterous and he preferred a good laugh to tame, pleasant conversation. It wasn’t like he ever had much of a choice in the matter, kids on the street had to toughen up and learn how to fend for themselves — and for those like Race that happened in the form of quick jokes and mindless flirting to keep things from getting too serious. He was always there to cheer up his friends, and always ready to throw out a compliment and a wink to the pretty girls that bought his papes. “Serious” was barely a word in his vocabulary, and everyone who knew him knew it.

That chilly March morning was no different from any other day. Race was weaving his way through the crowd of newsies as they all headed to the wagons, ripples of laughter following him as the boys realized why exactly he was running. Mush’s hat was clenched in his hand and Mush wasn’t too far behind him, shouting in annoyance at Race to give him his hat back. As he flew past Albert he heard his friend let out a hoot and a laugh, cheering him on. Race smiled. The feeling of the brisk morning air hitting his face as he ran, his brothers’ laughter surrounding him with every step, the promise of food and a good headline on the horizon — this was the feeling he lived for, the kind of thing that made the hungry days and the cold nights bearable. He never felt more free than when he was messing around with the other newsies, and he basked in his ability to elicit their laughter. If he had nothing else — no money, no food, no place to sleep — he would always have the newsies and their laughter. And that made it all worthwhile.

He slowed to a stop closer to the wagon, laughing around his cigar as he panted from the exhilaration. Mush caught up to him quickly once he stopped running, snatching his hat from Race’s hands and flicking him in the back of the head. The action only made Race laugh again, throwing an arm around Mush’s shoulders and leading them both toward the wagon where the nuns were already beginning to hand out food to the newsies who had made their way to the front of the crowd.

“Well, ‘m definitely more awake now than I was ten minutes ago,” Mush grumbled. A huff of laughter came from behind them, and Race turned to see Jack and Crutchie walking up to them.

“Can’t help yourself, can ya Racer?” Jack asked with a broad grin. Race smiled back, raising his arms in a mock shrug.

“What can I say? ‘S in my nature.”

“Here I was thinkin’ we called you Racetrack because of all the bettin’,” Crutchie chimed in. “And this whole time it’s ‘cause you run faster than any of the horses.” Race and Mush both laughed loudly at that while Jack shook his head at them all with a quiet chuckle. As they kept walking to the wagon Albert and Specs caught up with them, debating about what the day’s headline would be. They were mere feet away when Race finally looked up at the nuns who were handing out the food that day.

The world seemed to slow down around him. Running through the crowd of newsies had been a rush, and it had felt as if the world had been spinning around him, but all at once it seemed to stop turning altogether. Whoever she was, she wasn’t a nun. She wasn’t dressed like them, and she looked closer to Race’s age than theirs. Mush was saying something to him, but he couldn’t hear it. Her hair was pinned to keep it out of her face, and her smile was kind as she handed Buttons his food.

Someone gave him a small push from behind, and as he stumbled the world returned to its normal state. The push seemed to have shocked him out of whatever spell she had put him under, but now that everything was moving at a normal speed he was achingly aware of how he was only seconds away from being right in front of her. Quickly, he scrambled to straighten his hat on his head and brush his curls out of his face, plucking his cigar from his mouth and tucking it into his pocket. He could feel the boys looking at him strangely but he ignored them in favor of roughly wiping at his face in hopes of getting rid of any dirt. He gulped as he took the last step between them, looking up at her where she was perched on the wagon.

She wasn’t looking at him, turned around to grab some of the food they had stashed in there. When she did finally turn to face him, bread in hand, he could feel it happening again — the world moving around him in slow motion. She seemed to startle at the sight of him but he couldn’t guess at why. She had been serving newsboys all morning, what made him worth startling over? (He had an answer in mind, but it felt all too conceited to consider it fact.) He could feel himself beginning to smile at her, his lips moved by a force beyond his will. She turned her face away from him in a quick, jerky motion as he did, and he could feel his heart start to fall in his chest, disappointment setting in. She held out the bread without looking at him, and when he reached up to take it his hand brushed against hers.

Once, when Race had gone to swat Albert’s hand away from his cigar, he had felt a small shock between them. Davey had said it was called static electricity, and though he had tried to explain it further Race hadn’t understood a word he’d said. His hand brushing against the girl’s felt like that small shock of static electricity a million times over. It sent a buzzing, tingling feeling through his veins, spreading from the point his skin had met hers. A part of him wanted to grab at her hand, to hold it in his and ask if she felt the sparks mingling between their fingertips. But the touch only lasted for a second before she was pulling her hand back and he was stepping away with bread in hand. The buzzing, however, lingered. He felt like what Crutchie had said was actually true, that if he was out there on the tracks he could outrun any horse. He wasn’t sure his heart rate had ever been faster.

The world, which had not only slowed but had evidently disappeared around him, gradually came back into focus. The boys were joining him where he stood off to the side, savoring the food they’d been given. Specs looked at him with an all too knowing smile.

“So, what was that about?” He asked, his head tilting back to gesture toward the wagon where the girl still stood, continuing to distribute food to the remaining newsies. The rest of his friends asked similar questions, prodding at him teasingly, but he still felt a little too much like he’d had the wind knocked out of him to even try to answer.

“Looks like Racer’s got a lil’ crush,” Jack laughed, playfully hitting Race’s arm.

“Too bad she didn’t seem all that interested,” Mush snorted, definitely taking too much joy in the girls lack of reciprocation (though Race supposed that was fair since he had stolen his hat only 15 or so minutes before).

When Race could finally gather himself enough to speak, he said: “She’s just a pretty face, ‘s all. Nothing to get anybody’s panties in a twist about.” The boys laughed, like they always did. And they all went about their day, selling their papers and retiring to the lodge in the evening.

But the buzzing feeling persisted. All day he felt as if his fingers where he had touched her were disconnected from his body. He kept quiet about it, continuing on with his jokes like the morning interaction had been nothing but a footnote in his day. But for the first time, he wished no one was laughing.

________

Y/N had felt like she couldn’t breathe for practically two days straight. All she saw when she closed her eyes was that blonde newsboy and his brilliant blue eyes (because she’d been close enough to see his eyes that time, and they were gorgeous) as he started to smile

up at her. And every time she thought she could put it behind her she remembered the soft brush of his fingertips against hers as she handed him his food. She’d been too embarrassed to look him in the eye, but in the split seconds that they had touched, her heart in her throat, her own hand had memorized the feeling of his fingers — and now it felt like his fingerprints were burned into her skin. She could have gone blind, but she would have known him by the touch of his fingertips against hers.

She dreamt of him two nights in a row, of his half smile and his bright blue eyes alight with laughter. She’d never felt anything like it before, any other infatuations she had endured had come and gone rather quickly and rarely found their way into her dreams. Swallowing down her pride and embarrassment, she figured that was reason enough to approach Mary and ask about the blonde newsboy that seemed to have sunken his fingers into her heart without any chance for her to stop him.

It was easy to tell when she arrived at the monastery the next day that Sister Margaret, who had been with her and Sister Mary that day, had spread the word of her small encounter with the newsboy. Mary must have pitched in with the storytelling, too, with the way some of the nuns were looking at Y/N. Her face began to feel warm and she sped up her pace, ducking her head to avoid any of their gazes. Some of them were disapproving, others teasing, and she didn’t know which was worse. One look, which she received from Sister Anna when she was just steps away from Mary’s quarters, was pitying, and it puzzled her.

When she finally entered Mary’s room she looked at Y/N like she knew exactly why she was there, and it made Y/N sigh in exasperation before plopping herself down on the nun’s bed with a frown.

“Will you just tell me his name?” She finally spoke after a bout of weighted silence, her voice soft even in the quiet between them. Mary chuckled, Y/N’s frown deepened.

“They call him Racetrack,” she began to explain. “Or just Race, and one time I heard someone call him Racer.”

“Is he a runner?” Y/N asked, turning her head to look at Mary with confusion in her features.

“Not to my knowledge, no. They call him that because of how much time he spends down by the racetracks, spending his money on the horses.” Y/N absorbed the new information, allowing it to settle in.

“So he’s a gambler.” Mary nodded in confirmation. “Is he a good one?” Mary laughed again.

“Now that one I don’t know the answer to, but...” She trailed off and from the way her tone switched Y/N could tell before she even began to speak again that she wasn’t going to like what came out of her mouth. “My sisters want to make sure that you know that this boy of yours,” — Y/N wanted to protest that he wasn’t hers, but she kept quiet — “he’s a bit of a wildcard, and definitely a flirt. He wouldn’t be the kind of gentleman you’re used to.”

Y/N sucked in a sharp breath. To be truthful, she’d already been expecting that. This boy would have led a very different life than her, and it wasn’t hard to tell from looking at him that he was very different from the boys she had encountered throughout her life. The gambling aspect was certainly new, but the more she considered it the less it seemed like that big of a deal. All she knew was that she couldn’t stop thinking about him, and that, just maybe, him coming from such a different walk of life was part of the appeal — part of the thrill.

She ended up staying for dinner with the nuns, enduring countless comments on her supposed “relationship” with the newsboy. From the way some of them spoke about it she couldn’t tell whether they thought she was actually already seeing him or if they were aware she’d only encountered him twice and had never spoken a word to him. Sister Anna was unusually quiet until after dinner, when she pulled Y/N aside to give her an incredibly vague warning about not falling for any tricks the boy might try to pull on her. Though her heart protested, she listened carefully to Anna and made sure to repeat her words back to herself as she walked home. No matter how much her heart fluttered when she thought of him, she still didn’t know the newsboy at all and she certainly wasn’t planning to let him pull a fast one on her if she ever did see him again.

__________

One week later Mary asked Y/N to accompany her on an errand. She was delivering a message to a shop owner down near Brooklyn and wanted company on her walk, Y/N being her apparent first choice. By then it was April and it was raining often, they had even had to delay the errand for a day in order to avoid a downpour that had lasted from sunrise to sunset. Y/N couldn’t help but think of the newsies whenever she saw that it was raining, finding herself hoping they were somewhere dry and warm and that the rain didn’t steal too many of their sales. She hadn’t gone with the nuns to help hand out food since that first time, so she hadn’t seen the blonde newsboy since then, but he remained in her mind.

The sun was shining for the first time in days as Mary and Y/N began their walk, laughing about a dreadful joke Sister June had tried to tell the day before with little luck. A little voice in the back of her mind wondered why Mary had brought Y/N with her rather than one of her sisters, but she wrote it off as Mary preferring company that wasn’t as stiff as many of the nuns tended to be. It was only while Mary was speaking with the shopkeeper they’d come to see that Y/N realized exactly why she’d been brought along.

Standing just a bit away from the store, which Y/N was waiting in front of, was the blonde newsboy. He was holding up his newspapers and calling out ridiculous headlines that Y/N was sure weren’t true, but people kept approaching him to buy them anyway. The change she had brought with her felt like it was burning a hole in her pocket and she glanced warily back at the shop, looking through the window to see Mary still speaking with the man behind the counter. Taking a deep breath, she forced her feet to move in the direction of the newsie.

He was facing away from her, so even when she got closer he didn’t see her. Nervously, she cleared her throat before speaking up. “Excuse me?” She called out. He turned to find where her voice had come from and she felt the world go quiet as his eyes met hers. The downpour could have come back then and there and she was certain she wouldn’t have noticed, too enraptured by his eyes and the way his mouth hung slightly open, his cigar looking as though it might fall to the ground. He seemed to quickly regain his previous stature, his hand reaching up to straighten his hat, she presumed, until he pulled it clean off his head and held it to his chest as he bowed slightly before her.

“Afternoon, darlin’” He spoke, and her heart fluttered at the sound of his voice, her face warming at the pet name. He situated his hat back on his head before he continued to talk. “What can I do for ya?” There was a moment of silence where she tried to gather herself enough to get out a coherent sentence, entirely disarmed by the fact that the boy she’d been dreamily fantasizing about was standing right in front of her.

“What’s the headline today?” She finally asked, her voice a little bit shaky. She stayed rooted in place (unsure if she could get her feet to move even if she wanted to), but after hearing her speak again he took a small step toward her. She could hear warning alarms going off in her head as she did, but she hadn’t the faintest idea what they were warning of because not a single intelligible thought made its way to the front of her head other than the fact that he was smiling at her like an old friend of hers used to smile at girls before he flirted with them. The warning alarms got louder and oh, maybe they weren’t warning alarms, maybe that was just the sound of her blood rushing and her heart pounding in her chest faster than it ever had before.

“The headline?” He asked in confirmation, smile widening as he ducked his head slightly, sending his boyish attractiveness off the charts. “Why, that’d be: prettiest goil in new york makes newsie’s day.” He winked at her and she could have fainted. “Any interest in purchasing?” He held up a newspaper, shaking it a little in a joking way. She was sure he could see the way she was gulping down air, and when she reached into her pocket to pull out her money she fumbled with it. The pennies slipped from her fingers, hitting the dirty city sidewalk with quiet pings. Her face got impossibly warmer as she went to bend down to pick them up, only for the newsboy to beat her to it. He rushed over to grab them off the ground, and when he stood up straighter again he was far closer than he’d been before. “Here ya go, miss,” he said as he held out his hand with her change resting in his palm. She reached out but instead of taking the money, she closed his fingers around it. She watched as his eyes followed the movement of hands before slowly returning to her face, wide with some emotion she couldn’t read.

“Keep it,” she said. Her voice was so soft she wasn’t sure if he’d even heard her, so she cleared her a throat a little before speaking again. “I’ll take that newspaper, if you don’t mind.” A beat passed before he seemed to register what she had said, scrambling to hold out the paper to her. She took it gently from his hands, feeling a small smile make its way onto her face.

“The pape’s only two pennies,” she heard him say. “You gave me too much.” Her smile grew.

“Keep it,” she repeated. “On account of such an interesting headline.” Her heart was going crazy in her chest, she felt like it was bouncing around in her rib cage trying to bust its way out. He gave her an incredulous look before his own grin returned. She watched as he bent his legs until he was bowing before her again, looking up with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Meant of every word of it.” A clap of thunder sounded in the distance and she jumped slightly, her head turning to look up at the sky where storm clouds were beginning to gather. When she looked back to him he was no longer bowing, but his eyes stayed trained on her. “What’s your name?” He asked.

“Y/N,” she breathed, her voice being carried away on the soft wind that suddenly blew between them.

“Nice to meet ya, Y/N.” His smile never dropped, but he finally chanced a look up at the darkening sky. “Looks like we both should be findin’ somewhere dry soon, but if ya ever want ta find me again....” He trailed off as their eyes met again. She could have drowned herself in his eyes and been happy, she could have stood in the incoming rain for days just looking into his eyes and been happy. “The name’s Race,” he finished. “I’ll see ya around, darlin’.”

Just at that moment Sister Mary walked out of the shop behind them. Y/N looked back at the sound of the door opening, quickly taking a step back from Race and brushing her (now sweaty) hands on her skirt. She looked back at him quickly with a small smile and a nod before walking briskly over to join her friend.

“Ready to go?” Mary asked. “I reckon we better hurry if we don’t want to get caught in another storm.” Y/N nodded, linking arms with the nun as they began to walk back in the direction that had come from. She waited until they were far enough away to speak up again.

“You did that on purpose,” she hissed, glaring at Mary.

“I haven’t a clue what you mean,” Mary teased, a sly smile on her face. “And don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it. From what I saw through the window, he looked rather happy to see you.” Y/N felt the heat rush to her face again and knew if she tried to speak her voice would betray her, so she settled for lightly hitting Mary’s arm and grumbling at her to shut up, which made the nun laugh.

They only just barely made it back to the monastery before the rain began to fall. As she looked out at people rushing to shelter, she couldn’t help but think of Race, hoping he was somewhere safe and warm waiting out the storm.

__________

Race had been practically floating ever since he had seen the girl from the wagon again while he was selling. He would whisper her name to himself as he walked back from selling each day, basking in the way it felt on his tongue. Y/N — it echoed around his head like a prayer. At night he would lay in bed and look at his hand in the dark, remembering how she had reached out to close his fingers around her coins, the memory of her skin burned into his own. The boys had been pestering him about what had been making him so giddy, but he never gave them much of an answer. Their small interaction, the moments between them, felt like something private and divine, something not meant to be shared but instead to be savored and worshipped. He doubted he’d be able to get the words out to tell them anyway, not before they started teasing him with the expectation of him making his usual jokes. He loved making them laugh, and he had always been fine offering himself up to be laughed at, but just this once he wanted this one small thing to be separate from all the jokes. Y/N wasn’t something to laugh about, and he was reluctant to offer up the chance for the others to turn his already forming feelings for her into a joke.

It was ridiculous how much he liked her. He’d only seen her twice and spoken with her once, but he found his thoughts straying to her practically every minute. The way that she had looked at him, the way that she hadn’t turned away from his flirtatious comments.... everything about her made him want to know more. He found himself looking for her every time he went out selling, hoping to catch a glimpse of her smile.

Five days passed before, finally, his eyes latched onto her as she walked up to him with her eyes turned shyly downward. His grin couldn’t be stopped if he tried, his face lighting up at the sight of her.

“Well hello there, angel!” He called out when she was steps away from him. She looked up at him with a surprised face, but he watched as it melted into a fond smile and felt his heart practically burst. “Wanna know the headline today?”

“Depends, you gonna give me the real one?” Her smile morphed into something far more cheeky as she poked fun at him.

“‘Course not,” he answered. He looked at her bright eyes and her beautiful face, thinking that angel had been the right name to use because the only word he could think to describe her was angelic. He figured he was beginning to understand why she seemed to always be hanging around with the nuns, it made sense that they would want to keep a real life angel on earth close to them, safe from the rest of the world “No headline could compare to you.” The words were out of his mouth before he could even think about them, but before he could regret it her face turned bashful and he felt his breath leave him at how adorable the shyness looked on her.

“Well,” she started, after a moment of silence between them, “what have you got for me, then?” She bit her lip as she looked up at him and he went a little weak in the knees.

“Extra, extra — real life angel on earth blesses lowlife street rat with her presence.” His voice was much softer than when he would call out headlines to the public, his words uttered like a secret between them. Her nose scrunched up as he finished speaking and he was filled with an unbelievable urge to kiss her on the tip of that nose.

“You’re not a lowlife street rat.” He almost laughed out loud at her response, leaning back to let out an amused huff.

“That’s what ya got outta that, huh?” He asked teasingly. “Not the part about a literal heavenly angel on earth?” She smiled brightly.

“Well, it was the street rat I was interested in hearing about, not some dumb angel.” His heart skipped a beat. He had to reach up to grab his cigar from his mouth in fear of it falling to the ground as his jaw went slack. She was still smiling at him, and he had an overwhelming need to just....hold her. To wrap his arms around her and just feel her heartbeat against his.

“Don’t get my hopes up, angel,” he spoke after a long pause. “You goin’ ‘round sayin’ things like that you might give a street rat the idea that you like havin’ ‘im around.”

“Maybe I do,” she all but whispered. He hadn’t realized until then that they’d slowly been moving closer as they talked. They were a mere step away from each other then, her face close enough that he could see his own reflection clearly in her eyes. The sound of someone across the street yelling startled them both and they jumped apart. She cleared her throat before handing him her money. He took it without really looking and handed her a newspaper, gaze still firmly fixed on her face. It was only the fact that he felt one coin in his hand rather than two that made him look down to see the dime she had given him.

“This is too much—“ he started to protest, but she shook her head as a means of quieting him.

“I haven’t got anything else, so it’ll have to do.” He could tell she was lying, but he didn’t say it. He only nodded in thanks, tucking the coin away in his pocket. She smiled one last time at him before she walked away, disappearing into the New York crowd.

When he made it back to the lodge that night he was humming, so giddy he could hardly contain himself. Tommy Boy looked at him weirdly as he passed, but Race couldn’t be bothered by it. Even if she hadn’t meant it exactly the way he wanted her to, Y/N had clearly said that she was interested in him. Nothing could have brought him down from that cloud nine.

__________

Y/N tried to wait longer before she made the trek to see Race again, she really did, but she kept dreaming about him. Against her better judgement he seemed to have already firmly planted roots in her heart, so it was only three days after the last time she had seen him that she was looking for him around his usual selling spot. She squinted in the afternoon sun, furrowing her eyebrows as she didn’t spot him anywhere around where she had met him the two times prior.

“Lookin’ for someone?” She whipped around to see him standing behind her with a wide, shamelessly teasing smile. She let out a small sigh of relief, not realizing until then that she’d been holding her breath to keep the looming disappointment at bay. But there he was in all his glory, drumming his fingers along the strap of his bag while he grinned at her. “For a certain street rat, maybe?” She laughed at that, brushing a stray hair out her face.

“What headline have you got for me today, hm?” His grin widened, and she felt excitement unfurling in her veins at the giddiness on his face.

“This just in: real life angel on earth turns local street rat into a real boy.” He held out a newspaper to her and she giggled as she took it, dropping a nickel in his empty hand. He opened his mouth to tell her again, presumably, that she had paid him too much but she spoke before he had the chance.

“You don’t say? An angel performing miracles out in the open?”

“Oh yeah, ya should’a seen it. The angel was almost too pretty ta handle.”

“Too pretty, huh?”

“Definitely.”

“And the street rat?”

“Dirty and ugly, but blessed by her presence all the same.” She scrunched up her face at him.

“How about when he turned into a real boy? What was he like then?”

“Still dirty, lil’ less ugly.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” His smile turned more unsure, almost shy.

“And what.... What would you say?”

“I’d say he’s rather beautiful.” She watched as he let out a breath and looked at her with awe. “The angel must have known what she was doing.”

“Yeah, I’m starting ta think she really does.” He held her gaze with a small grin and she returned it in kind, her fingers tightening around the newspaper to keep herself from reaching out to brush away a loose curl that had fallen against his forehead.

They talked for a little while more while he continued to sell his papers and eventually he pushed the curl out of his face himself. The sun was beginning to set by the time she was walking back home, unable to get rid of the bright smile on her face. If the nuns could have seen her they would have had words, and she knew she would probably have endure several lectures the next day when she met them at the church since it was clear she had gone to see Race again (she found that she walked lighter after seeing him, and all of the nuns noticed) but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She could practically hear Mary’s teasing and Sister Anna’s motherly warnings as she brushed her hair before retiring to bed.

She dreamt of Race again and she woke up smiling.

_________

“You know, the nuns warned me about you,” Y/N said as Race handed her paper, a teasing flint dancing in her eyes.

“Did they now?” Race smirked, twirling his cigar in his hand as he pocketed the money she’d given him. She hummed, taking a step closer to him. He’d noticed that the more they saw each other the more comfortable she got, and that meant the distance between them was always shrinking and her flirting (he could call it flirting, couldn’t he? If it was something else he didn’t know the word for it) got bolder.

“They said you were nothing but a reckless flirt and I should be wary of you.” He felt a sudden sense of pride knowing that she’d been told to stay away and had continued to come anyway — practically on a daily basis by then.

“I can assure you, angel, I ain’t in this just for the fun of it.” He watched her smile falter before it widened and turned cheeky, looking just a little bit forced.

“And how do I know you’re not in it for the money?” He raised an eyebrow before taking another small step toward her, taking her hand in his.

“Stop paying so much and maybe you’ll find out.” He placed a kiss on the back of her hand, letting his lips linger there for just a second. When he looked back up at her it looked like she was holding her breath. The May sun that he’d been sweating in all day was shining behind her, but because of where she was standing its light was like a frame around her silhouette. She looked like something truly heavenly and divine, like a real angel — halo and all.

Someone cleared their throat to his right and they seemed to snap back into reality (he hadn’t even realized that they’d done it again, entered that little pocket of the world they sometimes found where only they existed). She pulled her hand back at lightning speed and he stood up straight as quick as he could, turning to glare at whoever had interrupted them.

Jojo was standing there, looking between the two of them before his gaze landed on Race and he smiled like he’d hit the jackpot. Race paled. He tried hard to think so loud that Jojo could hear him, to scream don’t laugh. Don’t make this one of our jokes, don’t make her think this is just a laugh for me. Don’t do it.

“Hey, Race.” Jojo’s smile slid into a lazier expression, his hands slipping into his pockets. Race couldn’t tell if he’d gotten the message, but he hoped to God he had. “Been lookin’ for you everywhere.” He chanced a glance over at Y/N, seeing that she looked unsure of whether or not she should leave and stick around. He didn’t even know what option would’ve been better at that point, just desperately clinging to the hope that Jojo wouldn’t go about this the wrong way. “Ya gonna introduce me to your friend?” Race sucked in a sharp breath.

“Uh, yeah... yeah. This is Y/N. Y/N this is Jojo,” he gestured between them. Y/N smiled kindly at the other newsie, nodding in his direction.

“Hello,” she spoke, tone as warm as always.

“Nice ta meet you, Miss,” Jojo smiled, tipping his hat slightly. Race let out a sigh of relief at his friendly and specifically non-teasing manner.

“The pleasure’s all mine.” Y/N gave a little curtsy and the action was so cute that it made Race’s heart stutter. “I should be going.” She turned to look at Race only, then. “Thank you for the paper.” He could see in her eyes that that wasn’t all she wanted to say, that maybe she was thanking him for something else, too. Before he could truly decipher it, she was already turning around with a small wave to them both. Race and Jojo watched her walk away for a moment before Jojo spoke up again.

“And what exactly was that I was interrupting, hm?” He asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Race scoffed, shoving him amicably.

“Shut up,” he grumbled, putting his cigar back

in mouth.

“C’mon,” Jojo laughed, throwing an arm around his friend’s shoulders. “The boys are all at Jacobi’s, and I’m sure they’ll all want to hear this story.” Race groaned but let Jojo drag him along anyway.

He was right, the boys were eager to hear the tale of Jojo finding Race with his lips pressed to some girl’s knuckles. And once that story had been told at least three times they all pestered him to tell them more about her, which led to him revealing that it was the very same girl who had been on the wagons with the nuns that day. They dragged every single detail out of him and though there were plenty of jokes made, he found comfort in the fact that no one seemed to make Y/N the target of their laughter and content in the fact that no one was teasing him too much about the lovestruck look he knew was on his face.

__________

Y/N was running incredibly late to go visit Race. She went practically every day around the same time and if she knew she couldn’t make it she’d let him know the day before. But the day had gotten away from her and she’d been caught up helping her mother with things at home. By the time she was out the door, just short of running with her skirt hiked up in her hands, the sun was already about to set.

She rushed through the New York streets, doubtful that Race would even still be there — it was late, after all, and she couldn’t possibly expect him to be waiting around for her to show up. Her heart clutched onto that hope, though, thinking about what it would mean if she arrived and he was there, waiting. Her heartbeat sped up to match her hurried footsteps and she couldn’t tell if it was because of how fast she was going or because the thought of Race always made her heart do strange things. Her only solace was that, with the sun leaving the sky, the unbearable June heat was softening.

She skidded to a stop just twenty feet away from where they usually met. Race was standing there in the pink light of the sunset, looking around the streets and fiddling with his cigar. Her heart stopped with her feet, and for a second she swore it wasn’t going to start again before it’s rhythmic beat came back in full force. He had waited for her. He was standing there, waiting for her.

She was breathing heavily as she approached him, trying her best to straighten herself out so she didn’t look as if she had run the whole way there. She caught the moment when he finally saw her and his eyes widened, a bright grin spreading on his face.

“I was startin’ to get worried, angel,” he said, walking to meet her halfway. “Thought maybe you’d forgotten ‘bout lil’ old me.”

“Never,” she smiled. “You’d be impossible to forget. And besides, I was only caught up with some errands my mother had me running.”

“Impossible to forget, yeah?” His smile turned teasing and she rolled her eyes affectionately.

“Don’t make me regret saying it,” she laughed.

“Never,” he quoted her, breathing the word so quiet she had to lean in to hear it. He was so close to her, so close that if she just grabbed him by vest and pulled him toward her they’d be chest to chest and the distance between their lips would be almost imperceivable. She wanted to do it, every bone in her body ached for her to be as close to him as possible. She had to scrunch her hands up in skirt in order to keep herself from doing something stupid with the way he was looking at her, like she’d hung the stars in the sky. “I saved a pape for you,” he spoke up again, offering up the only newspaper he had left with him. She stared down at it.

Her head was a mess of thoughts and affections. He had waited for her. He could probably have been finished selling long before she arrived, but he had saved her his last newspaper and waited until she came for it. Was it ridiculous to think he’d done it just to have the excuse to talk to her? Was it too soon to let her heart hope and flutter as she took the newspaper from him and handed him her change? Was it too much to think that just maybe if she had let herself pull him to her, he would have kissed her back?

“Thank you,” she finally whispered. His smile wasn’t as wide then, but it was softer around the edges and it felt like she might burst with all the love she felt for him in that moment.

“It’s getting dark,” he pointed out. She looked at the sun to see the sun had sunken almost entirely behind the horizon. “Can I walk you home?” She looked at him in surprise to see him holding his arm for her to take. She thought about what her parents might say if they saw her through the window being walked home by some boy. She thought of what the nuns might say if one of them caught sight of her letting the boy they’d warned her about walk her home. She took his arm anyway.

They talked as they strode down the street together, their voices quiet in the hush of nightfall. He made her laugh more times than she could count and every single time he smiled proudly at her.

“You’re something else, angel,” he said to her as they neared her house.

“I’m starting to think you call me ‘angel’ because you forgot my actual name.” She gave him a pointed look but its weight was lightened by the corners of her mouth fighting to turn upwards, her amusement shining through. They stopped walking in front of her house.

“How could I ever forget your name, Y/N?” He asked, his voice coming out as a whisper. He reached a hand up to brush a hair out of her face before letting it rest on her cheek, caressing her face. “It’s the closest thing I know to prayer.”

She stopped breathing.

He was so, so close to her. He called her angel and said her name like a prayer and made up headlines to make her laugh and never once tried to get one over on her and waited for her even when she was ridiculously late and saved his last newspaper to have a reason to see her and he was so close. She should have kissed him, then. But she didn’t.

A light turned on in her house and Race took a step backward from her.

“Goodnight, angel,” he whispered.

“Goodnight,” she breathed. He walked away, disappearing into the darkness of the night. When she finally made her way to bed and laid down for some much needed sleep all she could think of was his face close to hers and the way her heart had wanted to fly out of her body.

__________

There was a storm coming. Crutchie had said so that morning, and Race could practically smell it in the air. Y/N was telling him about how she liked summer storms because they offered a break from the heat, but her mother hated them because of the humidity. He watched her face, admiring the way her eyes shone as she spoke. He wasn’t an artist, like Jack, but he swore he knew every detail of her face so well by then that if he got his hands on some of Jack’s charcoal he could recreate it perfectly. The clouds looming ahead that served as a constant reminder of the impending storm were blocking out the sun, but she radiated her own light that kept the day from seeming too gloomy. Eventually, their conversation came to a halt as Y/N looked up at the sky with a sigh.

“I suppose I should be heading back to the monastery so I don’t get caught out in the rain.” She looked reluctant to leave and it made him smile.

“We wouldn’t want that,” He quipped. “Can’t have my angel catching a cold.” She laughed and hit his arm lightly.

“Oh it’s your angel now, is it?” He drew in a breath.

“It could be.”

She looked at him and, for once, he couldn’t figure out what she was thinking.

“Could be,” she repeated, barely mumbling the words. Her lips turned upward at the corners before she leaned in, kissing him softly on the cheek. “Goodbye, Race.” She looked up at him through her eyelashes before pulling away and turning to leave.

“Bye!” He croaked out, voice shaky and too loud — not that it mattered, she was already too far away to hear him by the time he had managed to get the word out.

The entire walk back to the lodge it was as if his feet didn’t touch the ground once. Days spent selling in July usually left him sweaty and exhausted, ready to collapse into bed, but there was too much adrenaline running through his veins for him to know what to with. The ghosts of her lips lingered on her cheeks and he half wondered if he looked in a mirror whether he would see a mark made in the shape of her kiss, burned into his skin like her fingers had all those months ago.

The newsies noticed something was up as soon as he walked in.

“Hey Racer, ya okay over there?” Jack called out, looking like he was ready to leap into action if he had to stop Race from falling over. The boy in question nodded dumbly, stumbling over to his bed before plopping down. A few of the boys followed him over and everyone’s eyes stayed trained on him.

“This ‘bout that goil of yours?” Mush piped up. “Y/N?”

“Yeah,” Race whispered, swallowing when he realized how dry his throat felt. “Yeah, she’s really something.” A smile spread across his face and he was sure he looked like a fool, sitting on his bed and smiling at nothing. The others exchanged looks.

“She’s got ya real bad, huh?” Albert asked, sounding like he was enjoying Race’s state of disarray much more than was necessary.

“She’s just - I mean, she’s....” He tugged his hat off his head and let his upper half fall back onto the bed. “Wow.” He heard a few of the boys snicker at him, but he couldn’t be bothered to care.

“Race is in loooove!” He heard Les yell from somewhere, drawing out the word teasingly in a way that made the kid fall into a fit of laughter. Race raised his hand and sat up to protest but stopped before he could. His face went slack as his eyes widened.

“Holy shit,” Jojo whispered. “He actually is.”

Again, Race wanted to say that he was wrong. But that was precisely the problem: he wasn’t wrong, not in the slightest. Race had definitely, fully, fallen in love with Y/N — and he hadn’t even realized it.

“I have to tell her,” he mumbled. The boys started to murmur around him.

“What?

“What did he say?”

“I have to go tell her,” he repeated, louder. “I have to tell her.” He stood up, buzzing with energy, his hat and cigar abandoned on his bed.

“Right now?” Davey asked. “Race, it’s pouring out.” As soon as he said it Race’s ears tuned in to the sound of rain falling outside. He didn’t care.

“Love doesn’t wait for rain!” Romeo called out enthusiastically. “Go get ‘er, Racetrack!” A few of the other newsies yelled with similar sentiments and Race smiled at them.

“See ya on the other side, boys.” With that, he was out the door, running through the empty streets in the rain on his way to the monastery.

Vaguely he registered Davey asking Jack if they should follow him, but he was out of earshot before he heard the answer. There was only one thing on his brain: he was in love with Y/N, and he was desperately hoping that she loved him, too.

________

Y/N was standing under one the stone awnings of the monastery, looking out as the rain fell. She liked to listen to it and she liked even more to see the streets empty of their usual bustling crowds, it made her feel peaceful — and she was in desperate need of calming down. Her face still felt warm from hearing Race call her his angel, and her stomach was still all knotted up from kissing him on the cheek. She hadn’t even known she was going to do it before she was leaning in, but when she saw his face afterward she was glad she had. The nuns had all given her looks when she returned, Sister Mary in particular smiling brightly at her. It had taken time, but over the months that she’d been visiting Race most of the nuns had come around. They were much more likely then to tease her about him rather than lecture her.

She gave a huff of laughter just thinking of the ridiculousness of the situation. Closing her eyes, she let the sound of the rain wash over her and calm her frantic heart.

Her peace was interrupted by the sound of fast footsteps, growing increasingly louder. She opened her eyes with furrowed brows, looking out into the streets to see who could be running around in the storm. The world stopped when she saw him.

He was absolutely soaked from the downpour, his hair matted to his face and his hat missing. He slowed to a stop when he saw her, standing twenty feet away from her in the rain.

“Hi!” He called out and raised his hand in greeting, and she laughed in disbelief at his casualness while in such a state.

“You’re gonna get sick!” She yelled, cupping her hands around her mouth so her voice would carry better over the rain. “What on earth are you doing?!”

“I had to come see you!” He called as she waved him in under the awning with her. He jogged to her, grabbing both of her hands in his and holding them up between their bodies. “I had to come see you,” he repeated, softer. He brought her hands up to his mouth and kissed her knuckles one by one, her breath hitching as he did. He looked at her like she really was an angel and it stole all of the air out of her lungs.

“What — what are you doing?” She managed to force the words out past the lump forming in her throat, her voice weak.

“I know I can’t offer ya much,” he said in lieu of an actual answer, and her heart stopped. “I know that if we were together it might be frowned ‘pon, and I know the nuns might not approve of me.” She was going to collapse, she was going to well and truly fall to the ground right then and there. “But I haven’t had a single second of peace since the first day I saw you. Y/N, you’re all I think about. I could spend the rest of my life with you and never grow tired of seeing your face or hearing your laugh. I could be happy with you for the rest of forever.”

“Race,” she breathed. “Are you asking me to marry you?” He laughed.

“No, not yet. Maybe someday, but for now...” He trailed off, looking at her with a tenderness in his eyes that made her want to pull him into a never-ending hug. “For now I’m saying that I am absolutely in love with you, Y/N L/N, and I’m asking you to be with me. I’m asking for you to hope with me that someday I’ll have enough saved up to buy you a ring and we can do this all over again.” He kissed her hand again before bringing it up to touch his face and holding it against his cheek. “I’m asking you to tell me you want me to stay.”

She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Everything that she was had been reduced to her heart beating out of control and the feeling of his skin against her hands. He loved her. He talked with her and he made her laugh and he waited for her and he walked her home when it got dark and he called her his angel and he loved her. And she loved him, unquestionably so.

“Racetrack Higgins, I have dreamt of you from the minute I met you. You are something utterly divine, and I have so much love for you I barely know what to do with it.” She watched as his hopeful smile grew at her words. “Of course I want you to stay. I want you to stay and never, ever leave me.”

He pulled her against him and she couldn’t even be bothered by the fact that he was still dripping with rain water. His arms wrapped around her bodice and she clasped her hands around his neck, holding his face to hers. He kissed her and she swore she heard angels singing among the rainfall. He kissed her and he kissed her and he kissed her and she was bursting with happiness and love from it. When they finally pulled away, panting, she saw him open his mouth to say something before closing it, squinting as his gaze moved from to the streets. She turned with confusion to see what he was looking at only to find a small bunch of newsies who seemed to have taken cover from the rain under an awning across the street. It looked like they were cheering, but she couldn’t hear them over the rain as it picked up even harder than before.

“Jesus Christ,” Race mumbled as he looked at them, making her laugh. He turned back to her and brought a hand up to scratch the back of his neck. “Sorry about them,” he said sheepishly. “They’re probably gonna wanna meet you.” She smiled, nothing could have brought her down from the high she was on — and being able to meet Race’s friends only sent her floating closer to the heavens.

“Fine by me,” she laughed. He smiled fondly at her in return. “We probably shouldn’t keep them waiting in the rain, though.”

“Well,” he grinned cheekily. “We can make them wait just a minute longer.” He leaned down to kiss her again, and she smiled into it.

One day, she would have to thank Sister Mary for bringing her on that errand way back in April. For the moment being, she was content to keep kissing Race as the rain fell around them.

__________

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#racetrack higgins x reader #newsies imagine #racetrack higgins #newsies x reader #jack kelly #david jacobs #jojo de la guerra #specs newsies #romeo newsies #albert dasilva #les jacobs #newsies #newsies live #anyway........come tell me what you thought og this!! validate me!!#*of #im pretty proud of this one :)#but also bruh this was 23 pages in google docs #bambi can kinda write

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thero0ks · 3 years

Text

In the Flesh <Shay Cormac>

Another work I forgot to transfer from AO3. Please enjoy <3

Autumn leaves floated on the surface of the river. Her elbows were pressed into her knees, and her nose was buried in a book. Songbirds called to each other, and the soft turning of the pages blended together into a peaceful melody. Her training schedule had been hectic, and preparation for winter at the homestead had taken up most of her free time. It was times like these that she coveted. Solitude, nature, and a good book seemed to always call out to her.

She could be the worst assassin at times. Completely oblivious to her surroundings, and completely engrossed in what she was doing. It was her Achilles' heel, and he knew it. His feet were silent as he crept up the path, taking extra care to avoid the crunchy orange leaves that littered the forest floor. He hesitated studying his target. Her posture was relaxed on the marble bench at the edge of the river. The cowl of her assassin robes were pulled down, and her (d/l) hair was unbound floating in the crisp breeze. As he crept closer he was engulfed in her scent, his eyes fluttered shut for a moment taking in her comforting scent. It reminded him of home, a place that he thought was lost forever. His dark eyes narrowed on his target, and he couldn’t help but grin as he launched himself at her. His hands were quick to find her sides, the tips of his fingers squeezing into soft flesh.

She let out a surprised squeak her body tensing, before letting out uncontrollable laughter. “Sh-Shay.” She managed to choke out between giggles. “Stop!” She shrieked. His attacks finally seized, and he wrapped his arms around her waist resting his chin on her shoulder, “What are you reading lass?”

“That is none of your business Mr. Cormac.” She said with a blush.

His eyes lit up reaching for the novel in her hands. He was quick to snatch it up before she could stop him. “Pamela?” He asked flipping through some of the pages. “A romance book?” He asked quirking an eyebrow as he took a seat on the bench next to her. “I didn’t know you were a hopeless romantic.” He said giving her shoulder a nudge.

“I’m not!” She said reaching for the book, which Shay seemed determined not to give back. “Hope said she liked it, so she lent it to me.”

Shay sprawled across the bench laying his head in her lap, book open to the page she was on. He cleared his throat and began to read out loud, leaving her red faced and embarrassed. After a couple of pages he stopped glancing up at her, “(Y/N) this is an awful book. Are you going to make me read this whole thing?”

She scoffed, “I never asked you to read it. You took that upon yourself, but I see what you mean. It’s even worse hearing it then it is reading it.”

Shay dropped the book, “what’s this sudden interest in romance novels?”

“You aren’t going to drop this are you?” She inquired with a roll of her eyes. He frowned, “humor me. I’m just curious.”

It occurred to her some time ago that he always managed to get her to inadvertently admit things that he didn’t want to be the first to say. He had a knack for convincing her to share her secrets with him, and he always seemed interested in what was going on in her mind. She was never the kind to open up, but if someone asked she would answer truthfully. Her heart was an open book for those willing to ask. “As you know I am a woman.” She began.

“Shocking.” Shay said dryly.

“Eventually, I would like to find someone…” She said rubbing the back of her neck. “Or maybe not, I don’t know. I guess I’m curious?” She continued to ramble.

“Wait, you mean to tell me you’ve never been with a man in any way?” He asked looking up at her, causing the woman to blush.

“I never said that!” She said folding her arms across his chest.

“You didn’t need to.” Shay said with a chuckle. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” He added.

“Regardless, my life isn’t exactly relationship material.” (Y/N) simply said, “but I can read about people who are in the position for such things.” She said simply.

“Maybe you just need someone who leads a similar life.” Shay said softly.

“He’s dead.” Liam’s voice echoed snapping her back to reality. “Shay is dead (Y/N).” He repeated trying to solidify the statement in her mind.

“Dead? How? When?” She asked. Her knees felt weak, and the world seemed to shake at it’s very core.

“He defected. He’s a traitor.” Liam said once more. He was being extremely blunt with her as if she should take his words as solid facts. “One of our fellow brothers, who shall remain nameless shot him.”

Her eyes widened turning on Liam instantly. For a moment her grief was transformed into rage. “Who the fuck shot him?” She asked shoving Liam against the wall.

“For his safety, and your sanity he shall remain anonymous. Now I would suggest you back down and return to your duties immediately.” Liam hissed.

With shaking hands she released him. Liam would not divulge any more information. He’d mentored her enough times for her to know how his mind worked. She spun around leaving the homestead behind her. Her mind was foggy, and emotions crashed about inside her like a sea during a storm. The marble bench by the river had a blanket of snow covering it. Bare fingered she managed to brush it off. Her whole body was numb, so she didn’t even feel the ice biting into her flesh. She collapsed onto the bench burying her face in her hands. Salty tears came quick, and sobs wracked her body. Her best friend was gone, and she’d never gotten to say goodbye.

* **

“Quicker on your feet!” Liam hollered to some novices across the yard. His eyes flickered back to the (p/c/l) figure in front of him. “Your stance is wrong. If someone twice your size swings at you they’ll break through your defense instantly.” He said placing his hands on her hips to adjuster her stance. His fingers lingered on her hip as his other hand adjusted the position of her sword. She knew what he was doing, but she hadn’t been able to conclude if he was ordered to do it as a distraction or if he was genuinely interested in her. Maybe his conscience was clear since his best friend was labeled a traitor, and was currently six feet under.

They ran through the drill until Liam felt the stance came naturally to her. She was placing a practice sword on the rack when Liam’s brogue startled her, “(Y/N). I wish to speak with ye.” She turned to face him giving him her full attention. “I know I’m your mentor, but I wanted to ask you something more personal.” He said softly looking down at the path as they walked. Her eyes widened, and her heart sped up. She knew where this conversation was going, and she’d been dreading it. “It seemed wrong at the time to say anything. You were a novice, and I was one of your mentors. Shay seemed pretty taken with ye, so I never pushed the matter.” He said stopping turning to face her. His hands quickly found hers gripping them for some sense of comfort, or support. “You’re beautiful.” He said earnestly leaning towards her. “I want you to join me in Virginia. I could be your only mentor from now on, and some time at sea together may do us both good.” He rambled on his eyes flickering up to her (e/c) gaze.

“Liam I-” but she was cut off by an Assassin.

“Sir! Kesegowaase is dead!” The rider declared handing him a sealed envelope. “There’s been reports that Shay Cormac has murdered him.”

Liam growled, “dammit! Dammit all to hell!” His thumb popped open the wax seal as his eyes scanned the letter. “That fucking traitor!”

“Shays alive?” Her voice seemed distant. The shock of the news was still seeping in.

“The Shay you knew is dead.” Liam said shaking his head. “Dammit, he’s overtaken one of the forts in New York. Achilles and Hope need to know. Come, you may be getting another promotion soon.” Liam said leading her towards the manor.

Achilles and Hope did not take the news well. (Y/N) found herself seated at a table watching the three debate the best course of action. “Perhaps we could draw him out?” Hope suggested her eyes flickering over to the (p/c/l) woman.

Liam frowned shaking his head, “he’ll be expecting that. Once he sees her he’ll be immediately on guard, or he’ll kill her.”

Hope tisked, “you boys still aren’t over that feud? Shay is obviously a traitor, you don’t have to worry about losing (Y/N) to him. Shay will know this, but I think we both know that he will try his damndest to win her over.” Hope said simply. “Men aren’t that complicated Liam.” She said flicking auburn locks over her shoulder.

(Y/N) sat up in her seat at the discussion. There were a lot of assumptions flying around the room about her, Shay, Liam, and her relationship with the two. She was about to interject, but stopped herself. It dawned on her that this may be the only opportunity she would get to learn the truth. If she could just speak to Shay she would know. Hope, Liam and Achilles hadn’t been entirely truthful regarding the events of Shay’s disappearance. Liam appeared to know that Shay was alive. How long had he known? Why didn’t he want her to know that Shay was still alive? She couldn’t escape the feeling that they were hiding something from her, and she was determined to get to the bottom of it.

“I think Hope’s right.” (Y/N) said making up her mind.

Liam raised his eyebrows at her statement. “I think I can draw him out. He’ll know if I bring others with me.” She added glancing around the room. “Liam’s right. He’d expect that, but Hope’s right too. Shay would expect me to try and find him. I’m sure he’s aware that news of him has spread to the brotherhood. I know he’d speak with me.” She said giving Liam’s hand a squeeze in an attempt to convince him her actions were innocent.

Liam squeezed her hand back, “so you’ll go…to Virginia with me?” Hope filled his eyes, and she was tempted to look away, ashamed of her lie.

“Yes, of course. After New York.” She said offering him a smile.

* **

New York was bustling with activity. Blending into crowds was an easy task for (Y/N). She made her way to the docks. The Morrigan had disappeared from the homestead, and (Y/N) assumed that this was the best place to look for Shay. The man wouldn’t wander too far away from his beloved ship. The docks seemed endless. She must have read the name of fifty different ships, but still no Morrigan.

Shay peaked around the corner of a ship. Her back was to him as her eyes scanned the docks. He’d managed to search the perimeter, and he was able to confirm that she was alone. She hadn’t changed much. Still completely oblivious to his predatory gaze. He was directly behind her when he finally spoke up, “looking for me lass?”

She jumped at his voice, but something inside her eased at the recognition of his voice. Her shoulders started to shake, and she knew there was no use in trying to stop the tears that pooled in her eyes. She slowly turned to face him, “you’re really alive. You’re not a ghost?” She stated gazing up at him. He could see the tears collecting on her long lashes and streaking down her face.

“Aye, it’s me. In the flesh.” He said with a simple nod of confirmation.

“You look...different.” She said eyeing his robes, and she noticed the blood red cross on his chest. Her eyes flickered up to his dark lidded eyes. “It suits you.” She said quietly.

He took a step towards her closing the distance between the two. His arms wrapped around her pulling her to him. He knew she’d spill whatever was on her mind when she felt safe, and he wasn’t wrong in his assumption.

“Shay everything is wrong. Liam told me you were a traitor, and that you were dead. I'm pretty sure Achilles, Hope and Liam aren't telling me the whole truth." Her voice was muffled in his coat. "And I think Liam's in love with me."

Shay froze at her last sentence, "Liam is in love with you?"

"I think; he wants to mentor me, and go to Virginia with him." She said, and her eyes widened at what she had just said. She quickly pulled away from Shay. "Shit! I shouldn't have told you that."

"Lass I think you need to sit down and calmly explain what's going on." He said observing her wide eyes and obsessive pacing. "Come on lass." He said putting his arm around her leading her across the docks. Fort Arsenal was close. He studied her out of the corner of his eye as he lead her to the fort. His heart still fluttered at the sight of her, and she still felt like home. He was worried she'd hate him, but he could see the internal conflict within her.

He lead her into the fort sitting her down in front of the fire. He shoved a glass of whiskey in her hand. "Drink this lass. It'll help." He said sitting next to her. He didn't try to speak until she finished the glass.

"Shay, what happened? I came home from my mission and Liam told me you were dead. He said that you were a traitor." Her eyes flickered down once more to the cross on his chest.

Shay sighed running his hand down his face, "I went to Lisbon, and found the precursor sight. When I touched it, it triggered an earthquake. It was a repeat of Haiti. Thousands of people died. All because of me." His gaze flickered to the fire. He couldn't bare to see her reaction. "I told Achilles what happened, and he refused to stop meddling with the precursor sights, so I attempted to steal the manuscript, and you know the rest."

He heard the thump of glass on the mahogany table and the shuffling of feet. "Shay, .Lisbon wasn't your fault. You didn't know." She said softly gripping his hands in hers. She was kneeling in front of him looking up at him.

"Do you love him?" Shay asked his gaze smoldering in the firelight.

"No, it's always been you." She said softly. Shay didn't hesitate to capture her lips in a kiss. He'd thought of this moment often, he'd imagined it in a hundred different ways, but nothing compared to this. His fingers tugging her closer, so that she was in his lap. Her fingers expertly pulling on his dark locks creating a pleasant sensation. He picked her up carrying her across the room letting her back hit the feather mattress. Her long lashes framed pupils blown with lust that gazed up at him with nothing but trust. He smoothed back her (h/c), "do you trust me?" He inquired searching her eyes for any doubt.

She nodded pulling him down by the lapels of his jacket and whispered, "always" against his lips.

* **

She awoke to the warm sun on her bare back. She gave a tentative stretch feeling a pleasurable soreness in her body. She rolled over to find the bed empty. She climbed out of the bed creeping across the floorboards hearing low voices echo through the fort. She turned to find a note on the bedside table.

Early morning meeting. I'll be back around ten. Yours, Shay

She grabbed a light blanket at the end of the bed wrapping it around her shoulders peeking out the window. It couldn't be past eight. Her robes were scattered across the mahogany floor, which she promptly ignored. She found a kettle and placed it over the fire taking a seat. She didn’t know if returning to the homestead was an option after last night. Hope had spies all over the city. She wasn’t a fool, and neither was Shay. Someone saw them enter Fort Arsenal, and she could guarantee that someone had been posted outside the stronghold all night to see if she left the fort. Which she hadn’t, so there were only two conclusions the brotherhood would come to: she was killed, or she defected. Hope would assume the latter, and Liam? Who knew. She could most likely convince him she was held prisoner from questioning, but the rest of the brotherhood wouldn’t trust her. The whistling of the kettle snapped her from her thoughts. She took the kettle off the fire busying herself with making a pot of tea.

* **

It was a little past ten when Shay got back. The pessimistic part of him worried she’d be gone, but his heart told him she stayed. He was eager to see her and possibly repeat the events from last night. He found her seated in front of the fire, deep in thought. “I was worried you’d left.” He said snapping her back to reality.

She quirked an eyebrow, “if I recall I’m the one who woke up alone.”

He chuckled giving her temple a kiss, “I left a note.” His hand giving her bare arm a rub. “I’m yours for the rest of the day.” He said pressing a kiss to her neck his stubble scratching the delicate skin.

“Shay..” She said softly, “we need to talk.”

Shay froze. He knew this conversation was coming, but he hadn’t been prepared for it to come so soon. He was hoping to enjoy her a little more before she left, but he understood the predicament she was in. The predicament he put her in. He rocked back on his heels using the momentum to stand. He took a seat in the chair opposite of her. Her bottom lip was glossy, and he knew she’d been anxiously biting it all morning. A habit she’d had since he met her.

“I realize the position I’m in.” She began her fingers playing with the ends of the blanket that was draped around her. “I am not a fool. I know Hope has spies in the city, I know we were followed, and I didn’t return to the bureau last night. To the brotherhood I’ve defected.” Her voice grew soft at the end. “I suppose in a way I have. I lied to Liam and Hope. They expected me to kill you, and I knew that I wouldn’t.” She hesitated, “a lot of people put their trust in me and I’ve betrayed them.” She groaned burying her head in her hands, “I’m going to fucking hell.”

He cursed, “Shite lass. This is my fault, I should have turned you away immediately. As soon as I saw you I had hope that someone didn’t completely turn on me. Then when you mentioned Liam I got angry, and jealous. I thought maybe he’d gotten to you too, and the thought of you loving him killed me, but when you told me you still cared for me I had to have you.” He confessed gripping her hands in his. “I’ve wanted you for so long, and it was selfish of me, but I’ll never regret last night. Even if you chose to leave.”

“After last night I have no desire to return to the homestead.”

A smile bloomed across Shay’s face, “you’re staying lass?”

“If you’ll have me.” She said kissing the tip of his nose.

He pulled her into a bone crushing hug, his thumb smoothing her hair. “I thought you were going to tell me I��d lost you forever.” He said nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck.

“I lost you once Shay. Never again.” She said kissing the top of his head.

“I love you lass.” Shay murmured against her neck.

Her heart eased at those four words. For once he’d been the first to confess. She’d heard him express it in a million different little ways, but his confession did not leave any room for doubt. Her fingers trailed his back as she uttered, “I love you too.

___

Tag List:

@jstar1992 @pink-polarfox

#Shay Cormac #shay cormac x reader #shay cormac oneshot #shay cormac x y/n #assassins creed rogue

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prettywordsyouleft · 3 years

Text

To Be Continued - Part 10

Summary: As an author, you had created Brian Kang for your current trilogy series to represent the ultimate man that everyone would love, along with Charli Evers - your female protagonist. What you hadn’t expected was for him to find a way out of the story and begin shaping up your world instead

Pairing: Brian Kang x female writer (ft. Park Sungjin)

Genre: writer au / romance / fantasy

Warnings: fictional characters coming to life / a bit of angst here and there / Sungjin as a cop (or does that only affect me?) >_>

Word count: 2487

Preview | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | Epilogue

The broken laptop was taken by Sungjin that night, and he returned it to you a fortnight later with a new screen on it. Despite being grateful, you were still hopeless. “Brian’s gone for good, isn’t he?”

“Maybe it’s time for you to move on from him, Y/N. I hate seeing you this stuck. Don’t you want to write other stories and start living again?”

Staring up at the man, you nodded numbly. “I hoped I’d be living with him. I guess dreaming up the perfect guy isn’t a healthy thing to do.”

“It did happen, and your grief is validated,” he told you, giving your upper arm a gentle squeeze. “Everyone faces a loss of someone in their life at one point or another. And we have to learn how to continue on after they’re gone.”

“You’re right,” you murmured, smiling gently at Sungjin. “Thank you for being a good friend to me.”

“Officially friend-zoned,” Sungjin teased, dramatically grappling at his heart. You giggled, and this made him stop and smile. “And officially hearing a good sound come from you. I hope you can feel comfortable to laugh more often, Y/N.”

“Thank you for everything you’ve done.”

“Now that you have your device back, how about you go and write something? I’m sure it’s been a long two weeks.”

You grinned at his statement, nodding along. “My desktop is so ancient. I was close to spending a lot of money on a new one.”

“Well, now you don’t have to. Off you go and write, Miss Writer.”

Your smile fell as soon as you shut the door, the friendly term Sungjin just called you only bringing up the moments where Brian had called you that time and time again. Counting to ten, you avoided crying for the first time over your loss and smiled.

“All I have to do is keep counting and writing,” you instructed, marching down to your office and plugged in the laptop. It fired up immediately, and the new screen was pristine. Thankfully, all of your work was backed up to an external so you didn’t have to worry about losing your work. It surprised you, however, that the computer remembered where it last was in your session, the end of the Eternity document appearing in front of you.

Reading over the paragraph you had sent Brian, you wrapped your arms around yourself for comfort. “You did well, Y/N. You waited for love, and you loved him like no other. This story’s over now, though. Let’s move on.”

Slowly, you deleted your message, making sure the document said The End and closed out of it, moving it to another storage space on your external hard-drive before opening a new document.

It was time to step out of the limbo you had endured for too long.

“Lily, did you get my first submission?” you asked as you continued to tap furiously at your keyboard, not bothering to check the expression of your editor on the small window in the corner of your screen.

“I did, and it’s fabulous.”

“Just fabulous?” you asked, scrunching your up face in annoyance. “I don’t think fabulous is enough.”

“Ooh, someone is feeling good about her work lately,” Lily crooned, and you grinned. “It’s good to see you working this happily again, Y/N.

“Well, the Encounter series is done now, and I need to have a follow-up story.”

“Does your favourite constable know about this?” she wondered dreamily, and you stopped typing to shoot Lily a look. “What? I distinctively remember you swooning over your protector. There’s no hope for you two to have a romance behind the scenes too?”

“Lily, I might be a writer who enjoys a good love story, but that’s all it remains as for me, a story. Sungjin is my friend, and I’ll surprise him with the final manuscript when this is done.”

“Yes boss!” she cheered and then gasped. “Oh, by the way! I heard that pre-order sales for Eternity have surpassed Captivated! When it launches in two week’s time, I’m certain you’re going to rank well!”

“And then that world will finally be at a close,” you murmured to yourself, Lily straining to hear what your lips had expressed. When you noticed her confusion, you smiled brightly. “Thanks for all your hard work over the past three years on this project, Lil.”

“You wrote them, Y/N. That world, especially Eternity, is a masterpiece.”

“Well, I hope the next story will be even better. More than fabulous, even.”

“You never let a single thing slide. I’ll sing your praises further when you send me the chapter you’re working on right now!”

“Onto it!” you said with a wave of goodbye, and the video call ended.

Slumping in your chair, your eyes shifted towards the wall calendar where the date had been circled for Eternity’s release.

You had taken Sungjin’s advice and picked yourself up out of the dumps. Of course, it hadn’t been easy, and still to this day you had moments where you yearned for Brian. However, you had remained strong since your initial resolve and left Eternity where it belonged – in your completed archive. You hadn’t sent messages, you didn’t open the document, and aside from when obligated to, you didn’t speak of that world to anyone. It still hurt too much, and you were looking forward to a time where this was all just a fond memory in your writing career.

Right now, with the impending sales and then signing tour that was booked, however, you were doing your best to distract yourself from anything that might make you cave.

Writing your police officer au was definitely helping with that, and you launched into typing again about Sungjin and Ella, you two protagonists.

You knew you probably should change his name, but the story made the most sense to you when you imagined your friend. Although you did wonder how you could separate the two when it came to the more romantic parts in the novel, you were having a lot of fun, remembering those juvenile feelings you once had for Sungjin before Brian stepped out of the laptop and changed your life entirely.

Sigh. You had thought of Brian again.

“When will I stop doing that?” you wondered in a sing-song voice, trying to keep upbeat. It was then that a new document popped up on the screen, and you groaned loudly. “And when will you stop glitching?”

It wasn’t the first time the new document tab would appear, now and then when you were in the midst of typing. You assumed you kept hitting the keyboard shortcut for opening it somehow and mentally wrote yourself a note to check if it could be disabled when you were done with this chapter.

Paying it no mind, you continued writing your story, not thinking once about all the mysterious happenings that preluded Brian’s appearance in the first place.

“Wow, I can’t believe I’m meeting you today!” a young voice announced, and you smiled brightly at the teen before you. “I’m a big fan of Brian and Charli!”

“Aren’t we all?” you mentioned happily back, reaching for the copy of Eternity she had placed down to sign. “What’s your name?”

“It’s Jennie! With an i-e.”

“Well, Jennie, with an i-e, I’m so glad you came today. I hope to see you at my next book signing in a couple of year’s time.”

“You can count on it, Y/N!”

The day continued much in the same, and whilst you were overwhelmed by the support of your fans, when you entered your hotel for the evening, you were more than emotionally exhausted.

“Stupid Charli. She’s living the dream,” you muttered and then caught yourself, sighing heavily with your unexpected negativity.

It was foolish to be jealous, and yet after listening to everyone say how perfect Brian and Charli were for each other all day long, you understood your reaction. Even if you were moving on, you wanted to be the one who was perfect for Brian Kang.

“Let’s count to ten, shall we?” you told yourself, breathing deeply and following through with your mantra. After ordering room service for dinner, you settled into the plush bed with your laptop, ready to stream a crime show you had been watching for research.

When the screen appeared though, it was opened on Microsoft Word with a new document waiting for you. You groaned and looked into the settings to make sure you had in fact disabled the keyboard shortcut. It was as you had left it and you let out a small huff at the program before hovering your cursor over the exit button.

Something in you made you pause, however, and you peered at the empty document with some interest. “Why are you following me around?”

Thinking of how Brian would always open a new document to converse with you, a glimmer of hope surged through, and you hit the keys with a rapid pace.

Are you there, Brian Kang?

Nothing came, and your words didn’t dissolve either. Rolling your eyes at your rash reaction, you closed the document and opened Netflix.

You were well into the throes of the show when your room service knocked on the door, casting you out of bed and over to the door. Once you returned with the tray of food you had been given, you noticed the document was back on the screen again.

“What is going on?” you wondered, staring at it for some time. Placing a hand on the screen, you closed your eyes and willed Brian to come out. It had been so long since you had done this, and yet your fervour was stronger than ever. You prayed so hard that when you opened your eyes and saw nothing there, your tears were immediately at the surface, cascading down your cheeks.

“I’m so over pining for you. Either come back or leave me alone!” you wailed, pushing the laptop aside and curling up into a ball.

You didn’t see it then, but the cursor started to move as if someone was holding down the space button, creating ten pages before it stopped.

The tour ended, and you were all too grateful to wake up back home with Binks curled up beside you. Kissing your furbaby until he made it apparent that your affection was unwanted, you climbed out of bed to brew yourself some coffee.

Today, you felt free. The saga of Eternity was over and whilst you knew you would still have to do a couple more interviews here and there in the future where you would be asked about the series, and your Discord would still be hit up regularly about reviews over the final story in the trilogy, today you were at least free from the contractual sides of the story. You wouldn’t have to actively talk about Charli Evers and Brian Kang ever again.

You also hoped that one day, once your pain resolved enough, that you could reread the series and remember why you had loved it all along, instead of the jealousy and burden you felt towards it right now.

With coffee and toast held in either hand, you bounced off to your office and sat down at your desk, blinking when you found your laptop on your desk already.

Had you pulled it out of its bag last night when you got home?

Shrugging, you hit the power button and were surprised when it immediately loaded up your home screen. “I did turn you off, you finicky device.”

Lots of little things had happened since getting the screen fixed, and you had left it down to that incident messing with it. You didn’t have it in you to believe otherwise.

Opening your emails, you went through the important correspondence, threw out the spam, and moved the replied ones to their relevant folders. Once your inbox was empty, you moved onto your other admin tasks for the day, ensuring you were all caught up before you stepped back into your police officer au.

When ready, you clicked on the file, and instead of it appearing, it was a blank document. “Oh no, you don’t! There were words in this file!”

Looking at the title of the word document, you were relieved to see it untitled and not that of your current story. Clicking again on the file from your writing folder, another blank document appeared instead.

“Open it! I have to write about Sungjin and Ella!” you exclaimed, hitting the file repeatedly. Tens of blank documents appeared with your efforts until you were panting with the annoyance. Sitting back, you shook your head. “That’s it! I’m buying a new laptop! I’m done with you!”

Before you could close the screen down, however, you noticed that one document appeared and had words in it. But it wasn’t your current one. Instead, Encounter appeared on the screen, scrolling at a rapid rate to the bottom. Then it changed tabs, moving through Captivated just as fast. Finally, Eternity finished it off, the words The End simply staring back at you.

“…Brian?”

Leaning forward towards the screen, you waited to see what would happen next. Annoyed that your hopes were raised yet again, you started to close the empty tabs, leaving the three stories up. A final tab appeared, and you burst into tears as words started to appear on the screen.

It’s time to start writing our story now.

Standing up shakily, you pointed at the screen. “Hurry up then, I’ve waited far too long to write this story with you.”

The screen went blank as your heart began to thud erratically in your chest, your eyes widened whilst waiting for what would happen next. Reaching for the power button, you watched as the screen lit up.

And then you felt arms embrace you immediately. “I’m sorry I’m so late.”

“I don’t care right now,” you managed to say despite your emotions running down your face. Pulling back just enough so you could see Brian’s handsome face, you shook your head in disbelief. “As long as you’re here.”

“For good,” he assured, leaning in for a passionate kiss. “That world is closed and done with. Whilst ours is only beginning.”

You knew with time, you would want to know why it took so long for Brian to return and to scold him for hurting you so much. You also knew Brian would placate you in every way, and you would hear all about his equal longing and struggle without you at his side.

But for now, this was all you needed. Dream men were hard to find existing in real life. You had found yours again, and this time you wouldn’t write him in one way or another. You’d let your life together pen the journey you had at each other’s side.

Your story was about to be continued.

_________________

Epilogue

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linmeiwei · 3 years

Text

How I changed my mind about Georgette Heyer’s A Civil Contract

I am one of those who, after reading this novel once in my twenties, put it away with a sense of disappointment. Don't get me wrong, I still thought this was a solid regency novel, quality-wise as good as anything Heyer was capable of producing. But the romance!

All the way through I sympathised with Jenny and was pained for Jenny, and in the end when she still wishes so much that Adam could love her as he loved Julia, I had felt unsatisfied and annoyed. I’m in my thirties when I revisited this novel. And I have to say... it's like I'm reading a different book! Honestly, I would posit that this is the only real romance Heyer ever wrote. Let me explain. Also, warning...

Instead of reading this novel from Jenny's perspective, as I did before, I read it, this time, from Adam's. I guess this is something new readers of Heyer might not know, but Heyer started writing for her brother, and was guided and edited by her father, and so her romances are actually very sympathetic towards men and much more oriented towards masculine sensibilities than you might be used to from other romances. In fact, I thoroughly recommend her novels to everybody, man or woman, romance-reader or not, because there is so much more adventure, history and comedy in them, than there ever is of the smooshy stuff. But that's by the by. So, reading this from Adam's perspective changes everything, because he is the actual protagonist of this novel, not Jenny. He is the more complex character, the one who grows and changes, the one whose arc we are really observing. Adam is a soldier, an attractive young man who is in love with a beautiful girl. When his father dies and saddles him with a ruined estate and mountains of debt, the dream of marrying the beautiful girl has to die, along with any plans and hopes Adam might have had. His world is turned upside down and out of a sense of responsibility he agrees, reluctantly and with some misgivings, to marry the plain and prosaic Jenny. She is the daughter of a vulgar but kind tradesman. She is not vulgar herself, though, but practical, sensible and (though Adam doesn't know it) in love with Adam. She agrees to the match because (as she later confesses to his sister in one of this novel's most heartbreaking scenes) this is the only way she could have helped him. She knows he is in love with somebody else. She knows she is too plain to ever attract him the way his first love, Julia, did. But she is determined that he shall be comfortable with her, at least, and so sets to work to accomplish this. Heyer does not mince matters. She goes to work to find the places in which such a marriage would rub and clash. She tells you, the reader who expects sighs and budding lusts and ugly-duckling-to-beautiful-swans transformations, that Adam looks upon his bride, the girl he had just married, and is momentarily repulsed by her. She tells you how awkward their honeymoon was. She lets Jenny's father trample into their marriage with his well-meaning but annoying and domineering offers to lavish the couple with every extravagant luxury. She also lets Adam yearn for another woman. But as the novel goes on, she also allows Jenny to shine - not in the way Julia did, not by ever becoming slender and beautiful, but by being herself: solid, plain but sensible, attentive to her husband's actual needs, attentive to her new home, intelligent, resourceful, caring. She allows Adam to see it, and as he grows up, to slowly appreciate and learn to love her. The story is really about his growing up: from the boy who yearns to be a soldier in action and desires with all his heart and body the beautiful, unattainable dream of a girl, to the man who farms, brings his house out of ruin, and loves his plain but capable wife. As a young romance reader I really wanted him to fall head over heels in love with Jenny. But as a grown up married woman, I know now that if that were what Heyer had written, I would have found it sweet for a few seconds and then I’d have put the book down and forgotten it as a nonsensical fantasy. Even when I did not like this romance, I have to admit, I never forgot it. Scenes from this one stuck with me much more than any from any other Heyer novel. Adam gaining a thorough, genuine appreciation of Jenny, a deep and warm liking, a feeling of being comfortable and being at home is romantic in a way that stays with you and makes you wonder, more deeply than any other romance, what love really is. And whether the romances we read really are about love. It seems by definition that they should be. But how often are they about couples who, seeing each other once, get all horny and behave silly? How often is it about couples who don't know each other really at all? That’s not love, is it? Love is about knowing someone and understanding them to their core, caring about someone, worrying about them, feeling complete and relaxed when in their company. In that sense, Jenny and Adam’s is the most really romantic romance of all of Heyer’s work. For all that Heyer makes you go through to get to that ending, it really is satisfying when Adam finally sees Julia for the sentimental airhead she is. It is soul-satisfying to have her bothering him with nonsense when he hasn't even had his breakfast yet. Jenny might have her own unrealistic fantasies about love, just the way Adam does, but when he looks upon her and kisses her and tells her that he loves her, I know that that is precisely what he means. He is not infatuated with her, blinded by her or giddy with longing for her. He loves her the way a husband loves his wife when all that nonsense passes. In fact, he loves her the way you, the reader, know he would never have grown to love Julia. With her he'd only ever have had that first rush of blind bewitchment, and when that dissolved, it would have left him with nothing but pleasant memories of a youthful passion. She would have grown as tiresome a burden to him as his mother is. So, here I am, ready to eat crow! Lovers of A Civil Contract...

I apologise to all the people with whom I argued about this novel being unromantic! I was wrong and you were right. There.

#georgette heyer #a civil contract #book review

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liannyeong · 3 years

Text

Crimson (Chapter 3)

Summary: Jaebeom tours Yujin around the mansion, and the start of the wedding preparations.

Word count: 2463

Pairing: Jaebeom X OC

Warning(s): None

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16

A/N: Phew! Managed to get this done in time! And it’s a longer chapter too :D Do support my works by buying me a coffee! Follow me on Twitter for updates ~ See you next week! ^^

Jaebeom takes Yujin to the garden first. Standing a few steps away from the garden arch, pink flowers decorating the iron base. The vibrant petals contrast against the surrounding plain green hedges. Jaebeom doesn't bring her into the garden though. Instead, he briefly explains that it's more of a maze instead of an actual garden.

"What's in the middle of the maze then?" Yujin asks, looking beyond the arch. Interestingly, the sun is bright overhead, but the garden pathway is rather dark, and there seems to be a kind of fog clouding it, giving a mysterious aura.

"Oh, nothing much. Just a water fountain, that's all," Jaebeom responds, bringing her attention to the mansion instead. Yujin slightly frowns. Why does the fae seem rather dismissive?

"The mansion has an east wing and a west wing," Jaebeom gestures to the rectangular blocks that emerge from the centre of the mansion. "And there are three floors. The first floor is a common area, where the kitchen and the dining hall are located in the west wing. The east wing is where the servants' quarters are located."

"The second floor is made up of sleeping quarters for the rest of the household. That one, however," Jaebeom points out at the balcony just above the front door to the mansion, "is the ballroom. The third floor is the library in its entirety."

Next, Jaebeom brings her back inside the mansion. They step into the kitchen first, where Chan -- the one who served them earlier -- is focused on cooking a dish. There are two other faes busily moving about in the kitchen. None of them seem to be affected by their presence. Yujin catches the greenish glint in their eyes.

"Does your household employ different elemental faes?" Yujin asks when they exit the kitchen.

"Elemental faes prefer to stick to their own kind. But here, it's different. We don't follow the general notion."

"What about Jinyoung? He's your brother but he's not a Fire fae."

Jaebeom smiles ruefully. "That's because he's my half-brother."

Yujin expects him to go on, but he doesn't. He leaves the conversation as it is. The next room over is the dining hall, but having been there during breakfast, Jaebeom skips to the servants' quarters.

"This is where the servants stay. If you need anything, you can approach them. Preferably, you should approach me though," Jaebeom murmurs the last sentence to himself but the silence in the house makes it loud and clear to Yujin's ears.

They head up the stairs, to the second floor. Jaebeom shows Yujin the ballroom, pushing open the large wooden door. It's basically empty, the daylight streaming into the room through the glass doors, casting a glow onto the marble-tiled floor. Beyond the doors is the balcony that she saw from the garden arch.

"We shall hold our wedding here," Jaebeom suddenly says, a huge grin on his face. In an instant, Yujin feels her heart drop. The tour has made her temporarily forget the reason she was brought here.

"Well, let's continue on." The fae walks out of the room, Yujin trailing behind.

He goes past the stairs and to the start of the hallway of the west wing, pausing there. "At the very end is where my room is located," Jaebeom states. "If you ever need anything, you can find me there."

Then they go up to the third floor, where the library is. The stairs form a bridge-like structure that splits into two pathways. The library appears taller than the other two floors, thanks to the roof that is shaped like a dome. It is made of entirely glass, allowing for the steady stream of sunlight. With the vast space -- a result of the merging of the two wings into one -- Yujin guesses there could be thousands of books in total: there are aisles of books, and every wall is turned into a bookshelf too!

"All the books in the library are my personal collection," Jaebeom gestures at the aisles. “But you’re more than welcome to read them.”

Yujin stares at Jaebeom, mouth gaping at him. She has always wanted to read new books but never had the chance, considering the financial situation of her family. They only have enough to sustain their survival, rarely anything more to purchase new things. Only once did her father gift her a novel that she has read multiple times throughout the years.

"Thank you, I’d like that a lot," Yujin can’t help but return a smile, genuinely grateful and happy. This seems to please the fae, for he looks at her as if she’s never smiled before.

"Well, uh--" Jaebeom clears his throat, “Come this way.”

Moving past rows of bookshelves, right at the very end, there is an arched glass window, with cushioned seats lined on the windowsill. Looking out, Yujin gets a bird's eye view of the mansion grounds, including the garden maze. She spots a fountain in the center, true to what Jaebeom said.

“It's nice, isn't it?” Jaebeom comments.

Definitely, Yujin thinks to herself.

“Well, that’s all there is in this mansion,” Jaebeom concludes. "I hope you’re more comfortable and familiar here."

“Yes, thank you for showing me around."

“Anything for you,” Jaebeom replies, eyes rather fond. "Ah yes, you’ll be fitted for your dress today, in the late afternoon. Yeri will remind you again."

“I shall leave you to yourself then,” he says, bowing politely and making his way out.

Yujin redirects her attention to the view outside. How advantageous is this, she realizes. Having a view from this angle will allow her to monitor the movements around the mansion.

She might have just arrived here and so far, no one has tried to harm her. Still, she can't get complacent. She can't let her guard down. There's a lot of things she doesn't know, questions that remain unanswered. But it's better she doesn't delve too much into it, she muses. The fae are skilled in deluding people, she reminds herself. It's better that she focuses on finding a way out of this place. She shouldn’t stay here any longer than necessary.

---

Yujin is woken by a shake on her shoulder, her eyes still heavy. She peeks an eye, the sun already casting slanted shadows through the windows. Yeri is standing next to the bed, reminding her of the dress fitting. Yujin quickly freshens herself up before following the servant lady to a guest room situated in the west wing of the mansion.

“Why couldn’t we do the fitting in my own room?” Yujin wonders aloud.

“It’s Master Im’s orders, Lady Shin,” Yeri responds as calm and dignified as usual. Then, she comes a little closer, and whispers, “Master Im doesn’t want anyone near or in your room.” She lets out a small giggle.

Yujin frowns. In an instant, the fae immediately reverts back to her composed self, as if she's done something wrong. Her sudden shift in mood has Yujin letting out a small laugh. Yeri smiles at her sheepishly.

The guestroom is as large as her room in the east wing. Seeing no one else in the room, Yujin decides to take her place at the loveseat. She’s rather thankful to have borrowed a book from the library and brought it along. She was reading it to pass time, but accidentally fell asleep until Yeri came. Basking in the silence of the room, Yujin flips open the book and continues on the page she left off.

She didn’t keep track of the time. She was nose deep into the novel when the door swings open and a commotion follows. Looking up, Yujin sees a male fae entering the room in the longest strides she has ever seen. He stands in the middle of the room, leaning his weight onto one foot. His legs are long, Yujin notices, and his cheekbones are visible beneath his slightly tanned skin. The next thing Yujin notices is the fae’s blue-colored eyes -- a sign that he is a Water fae. Yujin slowly rises to her feet.

“You must be the Shin Yujin,” the fae says with a subtle accent, looking her up and down. Perhaps elemental faes have different cultures and slightly different languages, much like human races.

“I’m Bam, your couturier,” he introduces himself. Before Yujin can even respond, he waves his hand and a mannequin appears in front of him, at the empty space between the guest bed and the loveseat. Bam steps forward, moving his right arm in a fluid motion and a measuring tape slides smoothly down his arm and into his hand. If Yujin had blinked, she might not have even noticed it.

“Measure her, please,” the male instructs and it’s like the measuring tape comes to life. Similar to water, the tape flows from the fae’s hand and slithers its way towards Yujin. It coils around her ankle, then spreads to her hip before covering her entire body like a tight-fit suit. It measures the littlest of details, leaving no skin untouched. Once done, it flows back down to the floor, creeping up to the mannequin. The mannequin morphs to be an exact replica of Yujin’s body.

“Alright, let’s see,” Bam goes. He crosses his arms, fingers underneath his chin, brows furrowed in thought. He tilts his head to the side, humming to himself. Then in the next moment, he suggests, “Perhaps a basic dress?”

Bam snaps his fingers and what appears to be snowflakes starts falling above the mannequin, to reveal a long simple dress. It is plain white, no design apart from the lace on the cap sleeves. The material hugs at the waist and tapers to her thighs, accentuating the Yujin’s curves. The tail fans out at the bottom, forming a smooth circle on the floor.

“What do you think?” the fae asks, glancing at Yujin. She doesn’t even get a chance to form her opinion, let alone open her mouth as Bam waves his hand, shaking his head. “On second thought, never mind. Let’s try another… I think… You’ll go better with an off-shoulder dress.”

Another snap and the basic dress moulds itself into an off-shoulder dress. The sleeves are long and tight to skin. There’s a dip in the middle, towards the cleavage but it’s not too low that it is racy. Around the waist is a rose gold embroidery, and the skirt flows loosely, multiple layers of light chiffon.

“What do you think?” Bam asks again, looking rather proud at his design. This time, Yujin has the time to step forward and feel the material.

The dress is beautiful, Yujin must admit, though she wonders if it suits her.

Just then, Jaebeom barges in, door slamming against the wall, his expression sour. “Bam!” he bellows.

“Oh, hello, Jaebeom,” the Water fae greets. “I think I’m just about done here--”

“How dare you make my bride wait!” Jaebeom raises his voice at the other, jabbing a finger into his chest. “Is this how you treat your clientele? Showing up late?”

Bam cowers. Yujin feels the temperature plummet. Watching the scene warily, she notices the candles around the room dimmed low, almost extinguished.

“I chose you as our couturier and yet, you treat my bride like a fool?”

“I’m sorry, Jaebeom, I had other business to attend to--”

“Excuses!” the Fire fae roars.

“Jaebeom--” Yujin intervenes, though her voice is small. Her own heart pounds in her ears. She definitely doesn’t want to be at the receiving end of Jaebeom’s wrath, but she feels the urge to defend Bam. The Water fae has his head hung low, avoiding any form of eye contact with the other fae. Yujin doesn’t know where she got the courage to move forward, such that she touches Jaebeom’s elbow. “It’s fine. It wasn’t a long wait -- not with a book to keep me company.”

Jaebeom looks over his shoulder. His anger seems to dissipate almost instantly. Out of the corner of her eye, Yujin notices the fires are back to normal. “Are you sure? I can punish him, if you’d like.”

“That won’t be ideal, would it? We need his service for our wedding,” she placates the male.

Jaebeom exhales steadily. Then he turns back to Bam, who is still looking down at his feet. Jaebeom jabs his finger into his chest once more, and spits, “You should be thankful to the mercy of my bride. Else, you’d be dead by now.”

The Fire fae faces Yujin once more, gently tapping her shoulder, a smile on his lips. His hand slides down her arm to hold her hand up between them. “If there’s anything you are displeased with, don’t hesitate to call me.” He brings up the hand higher, pressing his lips to her knuckles. Gently letting her go, Jaebeom turns on his heels and leaves the room. Yujin can’t help but notice how Bam immediately relaxes.

“Thank you for saving my life,” the couturier expresses his gratitude with a slight bow, a relieved expression on his face.

Yujin offers a kind smile. “I don’t think I did anything but you’re welcome.”

“Such amazing ability, you have,” Bam says. “I can’t believe that it’s true.”

Yujin cocks her head to the side. “What is?”

“Well,” Bam starts rather hesitantly. “Jaebeom has always been a hot-headed person, much worse than what you saw earlier. But his temper has mostly died down ever since he moved to this mansion, you see. Occasionally, he does get angry when it comes to important matters. But the fact that he was furious at me for being late and that you calmed him real quick… You really have Jaebeom wrapped around your finger.”

Yujin got reminded of Jinyoung, who said the same words. She shrugs her shoulders. “Maybe he doesn’t like truancy.”

Bam shakes his head. “I’ve known him all my life. And I’ve never seen him like this.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “You must mean a lot to him, considering that he’s protective of you.”

Yujin doubts so. There must be another reason for Jaebeom to behave in such a manner. Even if he is protective of me, it's because he needs me for something. But I wonder what...

“Ah!” Bam’s face suddenly lights up. He whips around and snaps his fingers at the mannequin. The sleeves are gone, and thin straps are added instead. Then, just slightly above the chest, a gold jewelry wraps around the mannequin. Magic flows downward, constructing a long chiffon cape that drapes all the way down, almost touching the floor.

“How do you find this?” Bam presents it to Yujin, his blue eyes gleam with pride.

“It’s-- Majestic.” Yujin finds herself amazed by the elegance it holds.

Bam grins wide. “Perfect for the bride of the Im house.”

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