shade garden under trees

Happy Birthday to @abominableobriens !  Here’s some emo-ass bittyparse, as promised <3

On AO3 here.

The air is so hot and wet that sweat beads above Bitty’s upper lip from the barest amount of exertion.  In the shade, Bitty feels marginally better; there’s some relief from the sun’s harsh rays, at least.  But the air is so still he can’t even hear the rustling of leaves overhead.  The world weighs heavily on him, from the air so thick he could choke to the rough, uneven bark of the tree digging into his back to the uncomfortable prickle of grass against the parts of his thighs exposed by his too-short shorts.

With this weather, if Bitty closed his eyes, he could be back in Georgia.  

He hasn’t been home in four years, since the summer after his sophomore year, but Bitty has still spent a lot of time closing his eyes and being in Georgia this summer.  Now that the Bruins have finished their season, he has a lot more time on his hands.  He’s spent far too much of it at the Public Garden, staring down geese from under the shade of a willow tree, hoping to catch the smallest breeze from the pond and ignoring the buzzing of his phone in his pocket.  

It’s always the old Samwell Hockey groupchat.

Jack hasn’t sent the chat a message in over two years.  

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The Other Odinson- Loki x reader |Part 2|

 Part 1 Part 3

“Are you ready to answer my question?”

“Don’t you have someone else to trouble girl? Go away.”

“No, answer me first.”

Loki groans and rubs his face with his palms, glaring at the girl through his fingers. She sat, across from him, lips in a tight line, eyebrows furrowed as she stares back. For a week, it has been like this, Y/n always seemed to have nothing better to do than pester Loki’s soul. Since she said that she ‘felt’ his sadness, she just would not leave him alone. And it’s about overly annoying, if she was not going to be his sister-in-law he would have chased her away already.
From a young age, with the help of his mother, he learnt how to use seidr, and with furthering his studies on his own, it is not hard to sense magic from another person. It was almost like an aura, surrounding her in a fury of colours. She is intelligent, that much he could see, she knows what she’s doing.
It was one of the reasons she sparked his interest the first night she came to Asgard. He was surprised when he heard that she was to wed Thor, everyone was. How an oaf like him managed to find himself a maiden such as her is beyond the knowledge of the Gods themselves.
Loki was glad when she sighs and leans back into her chair, leaving the library once again in it’s original state: quiet. Loki raises an eyebrow when she pulls a book from his pile on the table. He didn’t mind of course, though he is curious to see if she could actually read it. It’s written in runes, it’d be really amusing if she couldn’t. She opens it and her e/c eyes scan the page, after a while, her eyebrows furrow in what Loki would call, blatant confusion. “Can you actually read that?”
Her eyes snap up to meet his, she looked as if his question offended her very existence, “Of course I could read it…This rune is just unfamiliar to me.” She turns the book to show him, tapping her finger next to it. Loki chuckles, shaking his head at her, “That my Dear, is a very simple rune.” he states, before picking up a book of his own, Y/n pouts, seeing that he wasn’t going to tell her what the rune is.
“Would you tell me what it is?”


When Y/n saw Loki again, was a few days later. He was sitting under the shade of a large tree in the garden, a book in his hand. Y/n had held back on asking him about his personal business since the day in the library, like he said it is not any of her concern. His business is his own, and she respects that. So she stuck to getting to know him instead, when he trusts her enough, he might tell her. She had been sure to read his feelings every once in a while to make sure that everything was well, but she has a feeling he knows when she does. So she doesn’t do it very often, just in case he snaps at her for prying.
Some say Loki is unapproachable, but that’s not true, give him a chance and he’s one of the most easiest persons to talk to. Once you get through to him, he’s really sweet, Y/n learnt this in the few days she’s spent around him. They became friends, just thinking about how that happened makes her laugh.

“You are very annoying, did you know that?” Loki asked Y/n glaring at her from across the table filled with books. She smiles and nodded, “And your legs are capable of propelling yourself off a cliff.”

In truth, she had been in a bad mood that day and wanted nothing more than to just cool down and read a good book. And Loki had opened his mouth to say that when she did absolutely nothing for him to call her annoying. He had smiled then, asking her if she knew that she was telling him to 'go die’.
To which she responded with a sarcastic ’No, absolutely not.“

If anyone saw them, they’d think that they’ve known each other for years, they’ve gotten that close already.
Y/n makes her way over to the raven haired Prince, sitting on the grass next to him. He acknowledged her, but kept his eyes in the thick book. "You know, at some point, there’ll be no more room in your already big head.” She muses, sitting down in the green grass next to him. He hums in response, not looking up from the book, she sighs, picking one of the blades of grass, twirling it between her slender fingers. The green matched the colour of her dress, the color of his eyes.
The color she found herself loving more and more.
She looks over at Loki the minute thought ran through her head. It could just be that i’m spending too much time around him, she thinks, looking back to the grass in her hand. Yes, that’s definitely it.
She was so lost in her thoughts, she didn’t notice that Loki had closed his book to look at her. He could tell she was thinking by the way her eyes were glazed over, “What are you thinking about?” he asks, genuinely curious. The girl shakes her head, her eyebrows furrowed as she stared at the blade of grass in her hand, “It’s nothing…”
Loki watches her carefully, watching as the wheels in her head turned. She chuckles to herself before looking at him, “About that rune,” she smiles, Loki rolls his eyes, a small rare smile gracing his features. “No Y/n. I’ll tell you when it’s time to do so.”
The girl sighs and lays back on the grass, “You’re boring,” she grumbles poking his side, Loki chuckles, “I know.”

Later that day, Y/n was at the Bifrost, saying her farewells to her father and Akaela. He’s leaving to go back home, for some “important business” and would be back in Asgard after a few days, though she wondered why he has need for her handmaiden.
Akaela hugs her, “Do not cause any trouble while I am gone,”
“Of course not, I will await your return Akaela,” Y/n smiles, while her father shook his head at them, “I wish you safe travels father,” Y/n smiles when her father hugged her.
Y/n is very grateful for her father’s leaving, not having him around every corner. She loves her father very much, but you do know how fathers are; breathtakingly annoying at times. Always up to speed with the development of his future son-in-law, the only one fit to marry his daughter.
When Y/n was going back into the palace was when Thor came out of nowhere, “My Lady,” he greets, a mega-watt smile on his lips. Y/n smiles back, curtsying
to the blond Demi-God, “My Prince,”
She would like to think that things were going swimmingly well with Thor, as she was still getting used to the whole, to-be-husband scenario. But since this morning in the gardens, she’s having a little trouble capturing her rightful intent. She refuses that she is falling for Loki, she didn’t want to even think about it. Loki, is her friend, and that’s where she drew the line. There is nothing more to it, above it or beside it, just so we’re clear.
Thor extends his arm to her and she loops hers through his, and they begin walking. “How about a trip to the city?” Thor questions, looking down at her, Y/n hums, she’s been to the city only once to get some things with Akaela. Under hood and cloak so she wouldn’t draw attention to herself much, she couldn’t really enjoy herself being hidden, so she agrees. If this was a good chance as any to get his brother out of her head, she would gladly take it.
They decided to go on foot, taking their time to walk and enjoy each other’s company. “So, any special reason why you wanted to take a walk this way?” Y/n asks, they were halfway through their walk. People who saw and noticed them stopped to do the whole formal greeting, something Y/n never got used to, she believes that they shouldn’t have to. Out of respect or otherwise, she’s a normal person, just like them. Princess or no.
“I think the people of Asgard should know their future Queen,” Thor says, Y/n smiles, slightly unnerved about the thought of becoming Queen. It was going to happen eventually, with or without Thor at her side, but now it’s definitely certain. She had always grown up thinking she’d grow up and be an independent Queen, ruling on her own and keeping order her way. Not needing a man to tell her what to do and when, but then came Thor. But, it’s not like she isn’t happy, she is.
When the two of them made it back to the palace, it was late and dinner time was drawing near. Thor offered to walk her to her chambers, but she declined, saying she needed a moment to think to herself. In truth she was going to see Loki, he has a habit of skipping meals because he’s either too busy trying to expand his already vast knowledge to be bothered. So she wants to make sure he eats, when she got to his chambers she knocks quietly on the door.
It opens, and a girl with big blue eyes blinks at her, the girl was Freya; Loki’s handmaiden. She bowed her head quickly, not expecting to see Thor’s betrothed standing outside Loki’s chambers. Akaela, told her once about Freya, she’s a sweet girl honestly and she does her job well. Of course, she has the patience to serve Loki, but Akaela had heard from another maid that she somehow hoped she’d get closer to the Prince.
The blonde girl smiles politely, but Y/n could just sense a hint of something behind it. Jealousy perhaps?
Y/n! her head scolds, this girl is probably just tired and you bothered her right in the middle of her work!
“I did not mean to disturb you and distract you from your tasks,” Y/n felt the need to apologize, because she may have well did. Freya’s blue eyes widens and she shakes her head, “No, of course not Princess,” she dismisses Y/n’s apology and Y/n smiles.
“I don’t suppose you have seen Prince Loki anywhere by chance?” at the mention of his name, Y/n felt that feeling intensify, it was definitely coming from the maid, and Y/n took a step back. Yes, that was indeed jealousy, in it’s strongest form.
“Yes, My Lady,” Freya gives a tight smile, “He had taken a walk to the gardens,”
Y/n smiles again, nodding to the girl before quickly turning away to make her way to her garden. And she could just feel Freya’s eyes boring holes into her back. She could have just simply explain why she wanted to see him and dismiss the girl’s jealousy, but she couldn’t. As she said earlier, Loki is her friend, and that’s it.
Or is it really? Y/n steps falter and she stops, her mind took the time now to badger her. And trust me, she could do without the mental torture.

Do you honestly think that’s it?

Yes of course! There’s nothing more to it, Shut up.

She could hear that little voice in her head scoff, Yes, so we can deny the fact that he has been plaguing your thoughts since the first time you met. That your friendship with him means more to you than marrying Thor.
You can not trick yourself into believing that it is nothing more than a friendship to you, you fell in love with Loki.

So there Y/n was, in the middle of a dimly lit hallway, in tears. Because the voice in her head is right, she had fallen for the other Odinson, as much as she would dare to deny it.
She fell too fast and too hard to stop.
And the only reason this hurts, is because she know the trouble that would follow if she acted on her feelings. One of many things would happen, Loki would dismiss her feelings because he never saw her that way.

Or he wouldn’t, the voice says.

Y/n wipes her tears, and continues on her path to the gardens.

When she found Loki, she had completely broken down. Leaving the Prince utterly confused and not knowing how to deal with the crying female. So he just held her until her sobs subsided.
He knew she would come to find him eventually, since she spends more of her time with him than Thor. And, Loki knew, he was enjoying her presence a little too much, why not enjoy something you can’t have while you have it.
He realised a time ago, when he was alone with his thoughts for too long. Every time she is with him, he’s happier, like there was no care in the world. It was confusing at first, to why he was feeling that way towards a woman who was to marry his brother.
But when it finally hit him, and boy did it hit hard, he actually loves her, more than he thought he did. But he did not want to ruin what they had now, because what they had now was too good, and Loki could not risk losing that.
“What could possibly be the matter Little one?” Loki asks, pulling away to look at her, but the girl would not hazard a look upwards. Her eyes stared at the grass below their feet, her hair blocking her face from view. Loki raises his hand and tucks the tresses of h/c hair behind her ear, lifting her head so that he could look into her eyes.
“Y/n,” saying her name only makes a fresh batch of tears fall from her eyes. “What did my idiot of a brother do this time?” he questions, and Y/n’s shoulders shake with a sad laugh, she shakes her head.
“It’s not him,” she whispers, loud enough so he could hear, another tear falls and she hangs her head again. “I–I don’t know what to do anymore,” Y/n whispers softly her eyes trained on the floor, daring not to look into his emerald eyes. Loki furrows his eyebrows, lifting her head with his forefinger, her e/c eyes were glassy and filled with unshed tears.
She takes a breath, and a tear slither down her rosy cheek. “I am torn between doing what’s right for my people and doing what’s right for me.” she cries, tears cascading down her face again, leaving Loki again helpless. That does not really explain why she walked there crying up a lake, she looked completely broken and lost in herself.
“What are you taking about Y/n?” Loki asks, gently wiping away her tears.
“You,” she replies, looking up and into his eyes, “What?”
And Loki saw it then, swarming in her eyes, it was there the whole time and he didn’t notice. How could he not notice?!
A bit startled by his discovery, Loki takes a step back, looking away from her as he tried to gather his thoughts. “I knew it was foolish to come here.” he hears Y/n whisper sadly, she was about to turn away when Loki stops her.
His lips meet hers in a rough kiss, as a surprised gasp leaves her lips, his fingers tangle in her hair and he deepens the kiss. When her soft hand settled on his jaw, her other hand in his hair, a low growl rumbles in Loki’s chest.
Y/n breathes out a laugh, her lips tingles from his kiss. Loki chuckles, pressing his forehead against hers. “About that rune, Y/n.. ” Loki says against her lips before kissing her again, “So you are going to tell me?” she laughs quietly, looking into his eyes, where she could only love.
“It’s about time I told you. What it means, my Darling Y/n, is Love.”


Something wicked this way comes. Can anyone else feel that trouble brewing? Don’t worry, Part three is coming soon. ;)

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Stay sweet.

to the ends of the earth

pairing: reader x young k

genre: fluff/ angst?

word count: 1,503

requested by anonymous: ( This came out longer than a drabble haha I hope it’s okay anon!)  

He was betrothed at age seven.

To commoners that was too early of an age to become engaged to someone but Brian Kang was no commoner, he was royalty. He was prince of the Kang kingdom that ruled over the land for hundreds of generations. As a prince, Brian had everything he ever wanted and needed in life, everything but true love.

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fiorellaoftheforest  asked:

Hello! I sent in the anthousai ask! Sorry I didn't specify but what you did was great! I actually love it so much I want more but for the Mukami boys this time!!Keep up all the incredible work❤️❤️❤️❤️

Aw thank you! 💕 Here’s some love for the Mukamis~

-Would silently read his book on the garden bench as you admire the flowers
-Steals small glances at you but looks away when you turn around
-Smiles ever so slightly at how happy nature makes you
-Takes you to one of the royal gardens on your anniversary for a romantic picnic

-Finds it fascinating how passionate you are about something he’s never really given much thought to
-Is completely baffled at how you can make flowers grow out of nothing
-Loves your flower crowns and thinks they’re adorable on you
-You’d toss one onto his head when he said he liked them and smile brightly
-He couldn’t help but smile with you

-Always spending time outside with you
-Ecstatic that someone else shares one of his passions
-Finds it kinda hot that you’re not afraid to get your hands dirty in the garden
-Thinks your hair is the most beautiful thing in the world
-You’d lose track of time as you pick fruit and plant flowers together, just making casual conversation

-Loves how innocent you look with the flowers that naturally part of your hair
-Would bring you small flowers and plant bouquets because he knows how happy they make you
-You’d teach him how to garden and he ends up becoming completely immersed
-You two would spend most of your days in the garden, relaxing under the cool shade of the trees and cuddling

This had been John’s favorite spot in the garden. Nestled just under the tree to get enough shade, but not too far back that he would feel the cold on a less warm day. He’d spent a good solid hour setting up the chair just right, placing, sitting down, grumbling to himself, and then getting back up to repeat the process all over again. Sherlock had hid his smile, keeping his face turned towards the earth as he dug the spade into the dirt. John was adamant about getting the chair in just the right spot.

“If I am going to spend so much time out here, I better be comfortable,” he had said.

Sherlock hadn’t bothered to point out that if John wanted comfort while still outside, the porch around front was a perfect spot. He could even watch the road from there. But John persisted in getting the chair in just the right spot until, face a bit red and brow sweaty, he settled in the chair with a quiet sigh of relief. His John is—was, he corrects himself again— oddly stubborn about some things.

And territorial. Sherlock had never sat in the chair, because it was John’s. It was an important distinction. Even a life spent together didn’t change some behaviours. The cottage was both of theirs. The bed. The plates (though not the mugs). The sofa. All of those fell around shared territory, but others, like John’s chair or his pillow, were always just John’s.

He supposed it didn’t matter much now. Sherlock placed the book and tea cup on the little table nearby and ran his shaking fingers along the chair, feeling the pockmarks in the wood, a quiet tale of twenty summers spent outside. The slats were different colours, the need to replace and repair telling a different story. He rubbed his hand back and forth over it, even now still hesitant to sit.

The sun was beginning to lower in the sky, creeping towards sunset, and with it the coldness of night would soon settle into his bones. He ached; his joints and chest and head all hollowed out. He was tired. The chair beckoned to him and he slowly lowered himself into it, finally bringing his back to rest against it.

And there was John. In the curves of the wood and the quiet strength. In the comfort it brought to his tired body. He pressed his fingertips against his lips and finally understood why John had picked this spot. It gave him a perfect view of the garden and hives. He slowly closed his eyes and imagined John furtively looking up from a book to glance at him as Sherlock tended the flowerbeds. The sunset would be lovely from this spot, placed just so in a perfect cocoon of solitude.

He picked up the book from the table and turned to the first page. John’s voice whispered in his ear, the thrill in his voice picking up as he embellished each adventure. It was never about the cases, no matter how often Sherlock berated him for ignoring the evidence in favour of telling a story. No, they had always been about the two of them, sharing a life. Sentiment: even in the early stories, it shouted from every page. Sherlock lives means John Watson lives. The inverse, of course, had always been true, too. There had been a time he would have scoffed at being lonely. Not now. Five days without John was an eternity. 

He tucked a finger into the book to mark his place. Closing his eyes once more, he turned his head, and pressed his cheek up against the wood. For a moment, the roughened surface was replaced with the scratch of a wool jumper against his skin. The warmth the wood retained even as the sun set was John’s warmth.

John was here still, waiting. Five days was certainly long enough. Sherlock let out harsh breath, his chest tight. Far too long to keep someone waiting. He let out another breath, thinner and weaker than the last. The quiet settled over him and filled him. John would be cross.

His hand slackened. The book tumbled from his lap. The tea grew cold.

And in the garden, the hum of the bees slowly quieted as they settled in for the night.

English translation of some Hadith and Quranic verses about nature in Jannah ♥ In shaa Allah ♥ (to be continued In Shaa Allah ♥)

The trunk of every tree in the Garden is of gold.

♥ They will have fruits there and whatever they request. ‘Peace!’ A word from a Merciful Lord.
(Surah Ya Sin: 57-58)

♥ But those who have iman and do right actions will have Gardens with rivers flowing under them. That is the Great Victory.
(Surat al- Buruj: 11)

♥ Shaded by spreading branches.
(Surat ar-Rahman: 48)

♥ In the Garden, there is a tree under whose shade a rider could travel for a hundred years without covering [the distance] completely.
(Narrated by Sahl ibn Sa’d, Sahih Muslim)

♥ In the Garden there is a tree under whose shade a rider can travel for one-hundred years. And if you wish, you can recite: “and wide-spreading shade.”
(Qur’an 56:30) (Narrated by Abu Hurayra, Sahih al-Bukhari)

♥ But as for those who have iman and do right actions, We will admit them into Gardens with rivers flowing under them, remaining in them timelessly, for ever and ever. In them they will have spouses of perfect purity and We will admit them into cool, refreshing shade.
(Surat an-Nisa’: 57)

♥ What is the Garden promised to those who have taqwa like? It has rivers flowing under it and its foodstuffs and cool shade never fail. That is the final fate of those who have taqwa. But the final fate of the kuffar is the Fire.
(Surat ar-Ra‘d: 35)

♥ What is the Garden promised to those who have taqwa like? It has rivers flowing under it and its foodstuffs and cool shade never fail. That is the final fate of those who have taqwa. But the final fate of the kuffar is the Fire.
(Surat ar-Ra‘d: 35)

♥ The people with taqwa will be amid shade and fountains.
(Surat al-Mursalat: 41)

♥ Reclining in it on couches, they will experience there neither burning sun nor bitter cold.
(Surat al-Insan: 13)

In Shaa Allah, may us all meet there Ameen ♥

(to be continued In Shaa Allah ♥)

Creepypasta #673: Rough Patch

Story length: Long

You enter the kitchen, totally unaware I’m watching you. That I’ve been watching for days. You turn on the radio just as the 8am news is starting, as you always do after your morning run. You’re nervous, waiting for any news on the girl. Missing, only 6 years old. The report starts, it details her disappearance from her bed, her family’s terror when they found her room empty on the morning of her 6th birthday, how there were no fingerprints, no sign of a struggle. There are no updates, still missing, no evidence. But the world is searching for her, and that’s great.

You turn off the radio after that report, the only report that matters, and begin to make yourself breakfast. A hearty plate of bacon, eggs, beans, toast and mushrooms. I don’t know how you can eat, how you can even think of food. I know I can’t. I get a little more comfortable, it’s hard sitting here in your garden every day. Under the shade of the trees, at least I have protection from the sun. I watch you leave your house, you check the back door lock, and leave by the front. You always do that. I think about my wife and children. I think about how this would make them feel. I wait.

When you return, I’m sleeping. I know this because I wake angry at myself. You could have seen me. Then you’d have known all of what I plan to do. That can’t happen. But you don’t see me. You’re so stupid. When I’m sure you’re occupied, I pull out the scrap of denim from my pocket. The scrap that matches your jacket. The scrap left on my daughter’s bedroom floor after you stole her. I pick myself up off your garden and make my way to the back door.

Upon entering the house, I pick up a knife from your kitchen. Nice and sharp. Careful not to make a sound, I open the door to your living room a crack and peer in. You’re sitting in your red velvet chair, not a care in the world. That makes me angry. I grip the knife harder, and recall the day I passed you in the street. The first time I saw that torn denim jacket. Your dead, empty eyes, hollow in their sockets. I tread lightly to the back of your chair. Lucky that it’s red, maybe your blood won’t show when I slit your throat.

Your skin cuts like butter. You struggle, and that excites me. I’m so happy to finally avenge my baby. There are big, black bin bags in your kitchen, I grab one for your disgusting, lumpy body. You’ve got blood everywhere. I put your limp body in a bag and drag it in to the basement that’s connected to your kitchen. I open the door and push your body down in to the darkness. A methodical search of the house bears no useful information, I return to the living room where my mobile phone has been charging.

I’m furious, so frustrated with myself. How could I have been wrong again? I’m certain that scrap of denim matched your jacket. It was you, I am sure. I sit, slumped in the red arm chair, the blood soaking my back. I want to cry, to vomit, I can’t bear that I’ve got it wrong again. I can’t be wrong, there’s something, I know it.

My phone vibrates on the chair of the arm. A text message, from Jan. I unlock my phone, and throw it at the wall seconds later, before covering the floor in sick.

‘I need you to come back home. They have found her, baby. Turn your phone back on, come home, I know this affected you but our baby’s back. She’s alive, she’s back, come home please!’

In the background, some news report, '3 more found dead their homes in South London, this makes for 7 total, however police still suspect there to be more. Keep your doors locked at all times, we are searching for the killer.’

Credits to: georgeoliscott

When the Day Met the Night

Teen!Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2,763

Warnings: None

Request: -

A/N: So I’m an asshole who decided to write this instead of a request because I seriously couldn’t get this song out of my head. So sorry, not sorry. Probs gonna turn this into a little series, part 2 up tomorrow hopefully 

Part 1 Part 2

Your name: submit What is this?

Shit, they were gonna be late. Well, late by Sam’s standards. Not that Dean usually cared if he was tardy, but he knew Sam did, and today his little brother had asked him to take him to the school in the middle of summer to get in a few volunteer hours so he could apply for some geeky club he wanted in to.

The Impala hadn’t even stopped moving before Sam was jumping out of the car, tossing a thanks over his shoulder as he dashed into the school, backpack bouncing up and down the entire way. Dean let out a low chuckle and muttered “You’re welcome” to himself before putting the car in reverse and backing out of the lot.

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