Pairing: Jungkook | Reader Word Count: 34.8k (ooops someone’s got a bit carried away hehe) Genre: PrinceJungkookAU, Angst, Fluff & Smut.
A/N: This is the first story of the five “short” (if you can call them short lmao) stories about Greyria that I’ll be posting during summer. Probably I won’t be posting the next one until a couple of weeks from today, because I have the idea of them all, but none is completely written yet. I hope you enjoy it! Let me know what you think of it! Because It’s really long, I fear you won’t be able to read it from your phone or tablet, sorry :(
Summary:After all, he was her red rose, while she was just
another one of the many blue roses that grew in the dying gardens of Greyria.
“The best stories - those that speak about past lovers, about untold
stories and broken hearts, about beautiful promises of future and happiness
that got lost in the wind; those that make you feel happiness, loss, hurt,
love, hate, fear and sadness all at once; those that live in your heart for the
rest of your days - always have sad endings, my love,” her grandma had always told her
when she was just a little girl in a baby pink dress.
The public dimension is integral to Holzer’s work. Her large-scale installations have included advertising billboards, projections on buildings and other architectural structures, and illuminated electronic displays. LED signs have become her most visible medium, although her diverse practice incorporates a wide array of media including street posters, painted signs, stone benches, paintings, photographs, sound, video, projections, the Internet, and a race car for BMW. Text-based light projections have been central to Holzer’s practice since 1996. As of 2010, her LED signs have become more sculptural.” (x)
“I need to know what happened between you and
Nesta refused to meet his gaze, her hard face
angled away from him even though a moment before her hands had been curiously
wondering down his bare chest, his sword hitting the training room floor with a
clang as he instantly dropped it.
When Nesta had entered the room, Cassian was
not surprised. For the past few months she would come towards the middle of his
sessions and linger to watch, sometimes joining in, most times content to be a
bystander. Things between them had… not progressed since the war. Although
Cassian still savoured the way her lips felt on his, and he often pondered what
her mouth would taste like when not mixed with blood and tears, he was holding
himself back. Why? Because when he was alone with her, she looked like she
wanted to kill him. Any moments of tenderness between them had passed, and it
seemed Nesta wasn’t inclined to rekindle what they could have had.
And Cassian, Cauldron curse his soul for it,
could not stand the thought of letting another woman let him dangle. To get to
a place where Cassian had accepted he deserved to be more than just a back-up
piece of flesh to a woman who didn’t know what, or who, she really wanted was
harder than any physical training he had ever done. He still was not perfect at
it either, and to not chase after Nesta like a lost pet looking for its owner
was a true feat of strength for him.
“I need to know why she has you so whipped, and
why Azriel doesn’t even care.”
Cassian took a step away from her, picking up
his fallen sword and crossing the training courtyard to put it away. The sun
was beating down on him hard, and he’d exerted himself beyond what he usually would
today. He was frustrated – he always was these days – and the only way he could
think to rectify that was by hitting a lot of things with a very sharp object.
“Why?” Cassian kept his tone polite, not
wanting her to know how hesitant he was to speak of the matter.
Nesta took a step towards him, her blue dress
gliding behind her. She had her arms crossed over her chest, and her ever-present
frown was even deeper today. Her startling eyes had now met his, and Cassian
was surprised at the amount of fury in them. People often mistook Nesta for
emotionless, or for feeling nothing but spite and anger, but they just didn’t
know how to read her. It was all about the eyes – one look into them and Nesta
Archeron would unwillingly spill all her secrets.
“I need to know if you’re in love with her.”
Cassian scoffed at suggestion. “Why would you
think something as preposterous that?”
Nesta’s jaw tightened as she glared at him.
“Because every time I turn my godsdamned back you’re with her, doting to her
every need and want and wish and I’m fucking sick of trying to guess what the
hell is going on between you two.” Nesta threw her arms up in the air.
Cassian was astonished, and met her wrath with
a sarcastic smirk. “I don’t think that has anything to do with you, Sweetheart.”
He knew he shouldn’t tease her, but where did she get off asking him this shit?
It was Nesta who told him to leave her alone after the war, it was Nesta who
could barely be in the same room as him unless he was training. Fuck, today
when she had touched him was the first contact they’d since she was willing to
die for him – another one of her actions that simply didn’t make sense. He’d
told her how he felt.
I have no regrets in
my life but this. That we did not have time. That I did not have time with you, Nesta. I will find you again in the next world – the next life. And
we will have that time. I promise.
He’d laid himself bare, and he was met with the
animosity she usually saved for, well, anybody but Elain. Before, he could see
through it. Not justify it, but understand her motivations. Now, he did not
“Just. Tell. Me.”
“If you don’t then I’ll assume the worst.”
With a roll of his eyes, he strolled past her
and out of the courtyard, twisting through the garden paths that would take him
to his personal townhouse. “What’s the worst for you, Nesta? What would be so
bad?” he called back to her.
“What would be so bad,” she spat as she stomped after him, “is if I keep waiting for
you, not realising that you’ll never get over her.”
Cassian stopped so quickly Nesta barely avoided
slamming into his back. “Excuse me?” He turned to look at her. “You? Waiting
for me? I don’t think so.”
She blinked up at him. “Cassian, I-”
“Don’t you dare insinuate that the reason we
aren’t-” Cassian floundered, not even knowing how to describe what they could potentially
be. “The reason we aren’t… something, is not because of me. You barely look at
me. I’m lucky if you speak to me at all. And worse, when I think we are making
progress you shut me down even harder. You don’t have a right to ask me about
my personal life when you do everything you can to make sure you aren’t a part
Nesta sighed haughtily through her nose. “I’m
trying.” Her voice was tight, like she was being strangled by the very words
she was trying to speak.
“Sure. Whatever you say, Nesta.” Cassian was
beyond caring about how bluntly he spoke. He rubbed his hands over his face,
then pinched his nose. Without looking at her, he brushed past her.
He should have looked.
He didn’t look back – he wasn’t in the mood to
deal with this. She had done nothing but push him away. Nothing but degrade his
existence after she’d let him think that she felt the same way about him. It
was okay if she didn’t, but it was not healthy for him to continue pining after
her. He could not do it. He would not.
“Cassian?” This time her voice was softer,
gentler, and he could hear it cracking as she tried not to cry.
He didn’t hate himself when he looked back at
“Wherever you are, Mor is too. You’ll speak to
me, and then stop the moment she’s there. When I think that maybe I can get you
alone, she always whisks you away and you always let her. She hates me, and
that’s okay, but sometimes it feels like the hate she has for me makes you
dislike me too. You feel like I’m shutting you out? Okay. I feel like you’re a
ghost forever haunting a woman that is clearly using you as a buffer between
her and Azriel. I – I don’t know what’s
going on between you and her and Azriel, all I know is that I can’t help
thinking and feeling these things. You told me you wanted time with me, so
spend time with me. Prioritize me.”
He was astonished at her outburst, but also, in
a way he couldn’t fully comprehend, relieved that she was finally speaking to
him. That he was getting truths from her.
He swallowed hard, and walked back to her side.
He didn’t immediately talk, rather led them to a stone bench where they could
both sit. They did, a foot apart and with no inclination to touch, and he sat
in silence for a minute or two, processing her words.
“We’ve slept together,” he eventually said.
“Okay,” she whispered.
“It was hundreds of years ago – I was her
first, not that I knew until I actually-” Cassian cut himself off, those
details not relevant.
“Did you love her then? Did she feel like that
Cassian sighed. “I love Mor the way I love
Feyre. She’s my best friend. All those years ago, when we were barely adults? I
thought I did. It’s why I did what I did, even if I knew it was wrong.”
Nesta glanced sideways at him, her thumbs
fidgeting as she listened. “Why was it wrong?”
“She was Rhys’ cousin. But more than that,
Azriel had feelings for her, too. Ones that were stronger than mine. I knew
about them, and I never planned on making a move on Mor. But then Az and Rhys
went away, and we were alone and talking and laughing and she made me feel like
she felt the same way. I justified the betrayal to my brothers because I
thought she wanted it, wanted me. You have to understand, when I was younger I
had no power for myself. I was the lowest tier solider, and it looked like I
always would be. I was often regarded as just something to fuck by women. I was
a bastard, I couldn’t possibly expect more. Although I’d had sex, I’d never had
a relationship or anything close to it. And then Mor came along, and made me
feel like I was worth her time. It was easy to fall into it. Easy for Az, too.”
Cassian took a deep breath before continuing.
“That night we were alone and I’d cooked for
her. We were laughing about something – whatever it was, was so hilarious that
it had us in fits. Next thing I know, she’s kissing me, and I feel like I’ve
been Cauldron-blessed. She wanted more, so I gave it to her, not realising she
hadn’t done it before. The moment her maiden-head yielded to me I knew I’d made
a mistake. But I was willing to compromise my honour for this woman, thought
she was worth it.”
Cassian tilted his head up at the afternoon
sun, letting the rays warm his face. With his eyes closed, he told Nesta, “it
took me a very long time to realise that she was using me for a purpose. That I
was nothing to her. Not nothing, but only a friend. One she probably never
would’ve made if not for the bond between Rhys and me. I have never fought with
Rhys the way I did when he’d found out what I’d done, and I’ve never forgiven
myself for the look on Azriel’s face: hurt, but also resignation. He didn’t
think he deserved her, and it made me furious. Mad, because I was the asshole
that bedded the woman he was falling in love with, and despair because my
brother was worth everything in the world, and I played a part in him believing
that he didn’t.”
It had not been a long while since Cassian had
felt the familiar stinging in his eyes, the tears that he quashed regularly.
“And now?” Nesta hesitantly asked.
“For years I thought maybe she did feel
something for me, and was just giving me room so Rhys wouldn’t get violent
again and Azriel wouldn’t be too hurt. Then I realised what she was really
doing was letting me be the reason she stayed away from Azriel, and that
whatever feelings she had were never for me. It got to the point where I let
her – was her willing accomplice. Never, never
do I want Azriel to have to feel the way I did. To feel as ugly, and as
undeserving. He’s too good for that. He’s better than us all.”
Nesta tucked a strand of her golden hair behind
her ear, a thoughtful expression gracing her face, before clasping them in her
“I should’ve stopped doing it a long, long time
ago,” Cassian further admitted. “And if not then, I should’ve stopped doing it
the moment I knew I had feelings for you.”
Her eyes snapped to his, now open and staring
“It’s no shock to either of us that I feel this
way, Nesta. I have since the moment I met you.”
She breathed heavily, her eyes now portraying a
tale of confusion and want, hesitancy and immediacy all at once.
“I thought maybe,” her voice was shaking
slightly, “you were caught up in the war, and perhaps the words you said were
only told because you thought we might die.”
Cassian didn’t reply with words, rather, he
slowly wove his hand in between hers so he could hold her. Just a little. His hand
was clammy after training, and he was quaking ever so slightly, but if the
squeeze he felt from her was any indication, Nesta didn’t mind.
She also scooted just a bit closer to him,
starting to close the foot of space between them.
“I’m sorry I’ve been ignoring you,” she said quietly,
now wrapping both her small, smooth hands around his rough one so she could
clutch it to her chest.
It was a rare occasion for her to show such
vulnerability, and he was revelling in it. He wanted to pull on all her threads
until he unravelled her, leaving nothing but the woman she actually was with no
façade covering her. He still wanted those threads though, but he wished Nesta
to weave them not because of past trauma, but because she desired to create her
own narrative – one away from the idea of protecting herself.
“I’m sorry for the way I’ve been behaving with
Mor. I’ve done it for so long that I don’t even realise I’m doing it. It’s
never hurt someone before, and I’m sorry you had to deal with it.”
“We’re a sad, sorry lot, aren’t we?” Nesta
breathed a laugh and stood, Cassian rising with her as she hadn’t let go of his
hand. “So what now, Cassian?”
Cassian looked over the woman he had been
silently pining after since the moment he’d met her – the woman who looked like
she might be ready for him, for all the love he had to give her.
“That’s up to you, Sweetheart.”
Her face pinched at the pet name, but her eyes
danced and her cheeks blushed the most beautiful pink he’s ever seen.
“I have a few ideas.” She smirked at him and
let go of his hand, sashaying away from him. He grinned after her, especially
when she said, “Well, are you coming?”
Requested by @my-unique-mind:
Fred imagine where the reader is transferring from the American school, becomes a ravenclaw(same age as Fred) She has a class with Fred and during a test she helps him by giving him a couple of answers even though they don’t know each other. After class Fred says thanks, turns into friendship but both like each other. Ends with them finally kissing, maybe smut if you write that.
Word count: 2,793 (+51 from the extended ending) (+1,260 from the smut - which is a lot)
Characters: Fred x reader, Professor McGonagall, George, Dean Thomas, Ron, Harry, Hermione, Ginny, Percy, Molly and Arthur.
Warnings: Smut at the end, but you can totally skip it (I suck at this).
A/N: Freddie my love (this is not a Grease!Live reference), I liked this one quite a lot. I’m very sorry for my awful smut writing but hey, practice makes perfect! I hope you like it. Enjoy!
transferred student at a magic school wasn’t half as awesome as being a
transferred student in no-maj schools. The kids at Hogwarts would not only
laugh at the way she pronounced the spells, but would always correct her from “no-maj”
to “Muggles”. They would complain constantly about why Americans don’t speak English
correctly, and of course they would laugh at how Ilvermorny copied the house
it’s not half as good as the one here,” they would say, “they aren’t even sure
what house represents what. They’re definitions are so badly structured.”
say, the food at Hogwarts was extremely different; and it was horrible not to
have the Puckwudgies there to have a chat or at least to have company. The elves
at Hogwarts would mostly stay hidden the whole day, and if one of them was out
they wouldn’t talk to the students.
thing that bothered her was the fact that Hogwarts was full of ghosts.
Ilvermorny hadn’t got a single ghost, poltergeist, or similar. Peeves would
pull her hair, the house ghost would float through her, and it just wasn’t
she hadn’t made many friends. After being sorted in Ravenclaw, she found a few
of her roommates as not-so bad. They would help each other out to open the
common room’s door, do some homework, etc. but that was about it. Ravenclaws
strange to find someone pressing their forehead against the wall, trying to
create a telepathic connection to the castle; or people wearing bizarre clothing
and saying all kinds of senseless stuff. And even when that was funny, even
interesting, at times, (Y/N) just couldn’t relate completely.
her home, she missed her friends, she missed her old school, and she missed
was really smart, dedicated her alone time to study, which made her become one
of the best students in each and every single one of her classes. So when the
first exams came, she was not even a bit nervous.
Pssst…” Someone started. Professor McGonagall gave said student a stern glance.
was long, and there were some easy questions and some other that, everyone
except (Y/N), felt like ripping their eyes off with the wands rather than
figuring them out. One of those was Fred Weasley, who continued to try and call
(Y/N)’s attention once Professor McGonagall left the room to get some extra
Ilvermorny…” Ilvermorny was her nickname. Some asshole Slytherin had named her
like that and ever since they all called her that instead of asking for her
“I have a
name.” She hissed, looking back at Fred.
your name, then?” Fred asked with his usual joking smile.
She replied and turned his back again to Fred.
Psst… Psst…” He continued.
hissed angrily, looking back again.
need help with the last two… Page three… Please.” In spite of begging, Fred
didn’t lose the smile. (Y/N) knew that he wouldn’t stop bothering if she didn’t
help, and McGonagall was out so she sighed and agreed.
finished her exam soon after. She got up and handed it to McGonagall, who gave
her a warm smile before taking it. (Y/N) smiled back and went back to her
place, only to grab her stuff and leave.
walked past him, Fred managed to grab her arm, putting a ball of paper on her
hand before letting go. (Y/N) didn’t even flinch, she just kept walking and it
wasn’t until she was quite far from the classroom that she checked what the
paper ball was.
There was a
strange doodle on it. As soon as (Y/N) un-balled the paper, it started moving. “Thanks
for the help.” it read, “Courtyard, after lunch?” (Y/N) smiled, noticing how
his doodles represented her and Fred, hanging out. Literally, the doodles
seemed to be laughing… Or convulsing, maybe. His drawing skills weren’t really
the best when he was doing an important exam.
wanted to be chill, but she couldn’t. It’s not like everyone had been awful to
her, but not even her friends had
even wondered what her name was. So Fred, asking her and calling her by her
real name and not the stupid Ilvermorny nickname, and then asking her to hang
out was kind of like a dream.
patiently – not so much – for the lunch time to come. She tried to be chill,
but she just couldn’t help but to let her eyes wander to the Gryffindor’s
table, where she met with Fred staring at her, and smiling.
finished her lunch, she forced herself not to run out of the Great Hall, but
rather speed-walking as elegantly as possible. Fred, who was just waiting for
her to get up, didn’t lose time and caught up with her in no time.
smiled to each other and walked in silence to the Courtyard. They sat at one of
the stone benches. The silence that followed was a bit uncomfortable, but it
didn’t last long, fortunately.
huh?” Fred said, “I heard it’s half the size of Hogwarts.”
smaller, but only because Hogwarts is a castle and Ilvermorny started off as a
house.” She explained, tired of answering the same questions. Although, Fred’s
voice tone wasn’t mocking like the others, so she was not quite as upset as
do you like it here?” (Y/N) shrugged.
home, but the view at the common room is amazing.” Fred laughed.
snuck into Ravenclaw’s common room… Don’t ask.” He said after the girl furrowed
her eyebrows, “It was late at night and the view was almost the same as the one
at the Astronomy Tower.”
For half an
hour, Fred and (Y/N) shared all kinds of stories and funny anecdotes. (Y/N)
finally understood what everyone said about the Weasley Twins – Everyone loved
them, and if they didn’t love them it was probably because they had no sense of
humour at all.
exact replica of Fred and another boy walked towards them.
Freddie.” The twin cheered.
Fred chuckled, “Dean.”
Dean nodded his way.
“We didn’t know
you got a new friend.” George said, sitting next to (Y/N) with a flirty look. “George
Weasley.” He grabbed her hand and kissed it, “What name should I put to your
George giggled as well. Fred rolled his eyes and got her attention again.
“That is my
twin, George… Although you already know that.” The twins shared a glance, “And
this one is Dean Thomas, the master mind behind half of our pranks.”
to meet you, (Y/N).” Dean smiled at her.
the transferred student?” George asked.
Ilvermorny.” Dean snapped his fingers and nodded as the realization sunk on
is a stupid nickname.” George furrowed.
it’s stupid, a Slytherin was involved!” Fred replied.
call you that.” George promised.
(Y/N) befriended the twins and the master mind. They became so close in so
little time that, after two months, they included her on a prank they pulled on
some last year Slytherins. Of course, when the teachers caught them, they
denied her having anything to do.
(Y/N) developed a rather more profound bond. They became literal best friends,
sharing everything and anything – except their massive crush for one and other.
sneak her into the Gryffindor’s common room – not that it bothered anyone,
Gryffindor’s were usually nice to her since she befriended the Weasleys. She
would go to The Burrow on holidays and stay up all night, by the fire place,
sharing jokes with him. They would skip class together, have breakfast together
(whenever it was possible), study together, spend their free time with the
other, etc. They were inseparable.
was aware of their feelings for each other, and even some people thought they
were dating; but teens are dumb and (Y/N) and Fred were scared to death to
confess their crush. Therefore, after a while, George and Dean decided to make
the first move.
going to spend the last weeks of summer at The Burrow, along with Dean, Harry
and Hermione. If that house looked full every Christmas when every Weasley was
there, that summer was even worse.
at Charlie’s old room, Dean at Bill’s, Harry with Ron and Hermione with Ginny;
and even so, it seemed like the house was full.
(Y/N), and Arthur loved her even better because they shared their admiration
for muggle’s stuff. Also, the Weasleys were never mean to her or said anything
about her accent – which was slowly fading, becoming a mixture between British
and American accent. By the end of the summer, Mr. Weasley ended up saying
no-maj instead of muggle, which was hilarious to hear.
night, Fred would sneak inside Charlie’s room, only to find (Y/N) waiting for
him. They would talk about everything, and Fred would show her all kinds of
weird stuff - from products he and George had created for their store, to
things that he created all by himself just for fun. (Y/N) on the other hand,
would tell him about the books she had read, or really any kind of weird
thought that had crossed her mind along the day. They found each other
before Dean and George pulled their magnificent
move – to which Hermione and Ginny referred to as lame – Fred and (Y/N) had
an especially long night. They fell asleep mid-sentence and they didn’t woke up
until the next morning. After all those night pulling all-nighters, their
bodies had begged them, and forced them, to get some decent sleep.
George noticed soon enough and dragged his brother out of Charlie’s room before
Molly got up. She would have a heart attack if she saw Fred and (Y/N) sleeping
together, even if it were as innocently as they had.
got time to process what was going on. But the sight of recently-woken-up (Y/N)
stuck to his mind for the rest of the day. Her messy hair and how she squinted
her eyes with the light. Her raspy voice – saying his name and something along
the lines of “oh no, we fell asleep, get out before your mother kills us” – and
of course just her flawless-self just lying beside him.
the boys do all kinds of house chores, and then she made the girls help her out
with the dinner. Therefore, Fred and (Y/N) barely got time to talk during the
day, which only added up more nerves and awkwardness to the situation. If they
had gotten time to wake up and talk, it wouldn’t have been worse than an “Oh,
this is odd”, “You have hedgehog hair”, a few laughs and that’s it. But by
pulling them apart, they encouraged their minds to overthink the situation.
By the time
dinner came, they sat next to the other but barely said a word. Everyone –
except Molly and Arthur – noticed which caused some giggles and a knowing smile
from George to Dean.
Arthur went to be early, claiming that they would be out early in the morning.
George and Dean also left by excusing with “we’re tired from being up all night creating some new products”,
Ginny got the hint and left without saying anything other than good night; the
golden trio said that Harry was having a headache and that he needed both
Hermione and Ron to take care of him. Percy left using his “prefects don’t
clean” excuse. That left Fred and (Y/N) in charge of picking up the table and
washing the dishes.
for the dishes as Fred cleaned up the table. They weren’t allowed to use magic
outside the school, yet. So the tasks
had to be hand-made.
cleaned up very quickly and ended up joining (Y/N) with the dishes. She washed,
was your day?” Fred asked nonchalantly.
not as tiring as yours.” She joked.
to have many boys around to the things dad can’t do anymore.” Fred explained.
them knew that the conversation wouldn’t go any further if they didn’t talk
about last night. And really, it had been a really innocent accident, so there
was no reason to be ashamed or uncomfortable about it. Therefore, Fred cleared
his throat and decided to speak.
lucky that George got me out of your room on time,” He chuckled, “mom got up
five minutes after and I swear I have never sweated as much as I did this
She giggled, “I thought we were going to get killed or something.”
they know that George and Dean had asked Harry for his Invisible cloak, and
were hiding at the stairs, observing their every move. Of course the cloak was
a bit small, so they had to be sitting in order to be completely covered.
even say good morning.” Fred spoke, “Good morning, by the way.”
needs a little push.” George whispered, pulling the wand a bit out of the cloak
and doing just enough magic for it to work but not much that the Ministry would
send a letter.
from the soap suddenly became more, and it jumped
covering her nose – kind of like a foam clown nose. Fred and (Y/N)
furrowed, but instead of wondering who was responsible, they burst in laughter.
like a clown.” Fred commented.
like you then.” She joked.
them laughed once more. Then, Fred grabbed an old but clean cloth and took the
foam away himself, instead of letting her do it. Of course, this isn’t a
romantic movie, so instead of suddenly making out like George wanted; they just
blushed a little and proceeded to finish the dishes.
George decided to go for plan B, which would probably end up in Fred hating his
twin for the rest of his life but it was worth the try.
Fred to check something out while (Y/N) returned to her room. George put on
Fred’s pyjamas and, after taking around twenty long breaths, he knocked on her
door. She was so tired she would barely know the difference.
you.” George spoke as his cheeks turned bright red, “I have loved you for a
long while but I’m too much of a wimp and was too afraid to tell you.”
cheeks were bright red, and her (Y/E/C) eyes were opened widely. Her jaw
dropped, and her breathing turned faster.
anything. Good night.” And with that, George ran back to their room, changing
quickly onto his own clothes.
Fred went back to their room soon after. George was still super red, which
caused Fred to get suspicious. Then, he noticed his pyjamas all scrambled
around the floor.
you do?” Fred asked. Of course, twins have a connection – and wizard twins have
an ever stronger one, so Fred was almost certain of what George had done, but
he wasn’t willing to believe it.
me.” George begged, giving a step back.
best friend, George!” Fred hissed, “What if she doesn’t talk to me ever again?”
think…” Fred groaned, not letting his brother finish his sentence. He stormed
out of their room, straight to Charlie’s.
the door the same way he would knock it when he wanted to sneak in. (Y/N)
opened; her cheeks were still red.
couldn’t finish his sentence. (Y/N) slammed her lips on Fred’s, who stiffened
in shock for a second before melting into her arms.
pulled him into the room, and Fred shut the door behind him. Dean and George
high fived, calling the attention of every other teen in the house.
Harry, Ron, Hermione and even Percy got out of their rooms. They peeked from
the staircase to where Charlie’s room was.
work?” Ginny asked excitedly.
George smiled up to his sister.
hate you?” Harry asked with half concern and half excitement.
think Fred will hate anyone after tonight.” Percy informed from his side of the
stairs. In spite of being the usual cocky-Percy, he seemed to be happy for his
Ron and Hermione!” George cheered, high-fiving Dean again.
and Hermione asked in unison.
go back to bed kids.” George laughed, “Let Freddie have some fun.”
*Entended ending* (Which is ambienced the morning after)
you mean you just started dating?” Molly asked as she served breakfast the
that.” Fred answered, “(Y/N) and I just started dating last night.”
she was your girlfriend ever since you first wrote about her in one of your
letters.” Molly shrugged her shoulders.
Plot: What if you could win 100,000 Won by giving someone a makeover? But here’s the catch – you have 6 months to turn a nerdy, anti-social male into the school’s biggest heartthrob.
Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Reader
Genre: Angst, Highschool au!
Warnings: Mentions of sex, predator drug (spiking drink), self-loathing
Notes: okay it’s getting really dark wtf. I swear to all hell it’s as dark as the oblivion now WHY AM I SUCH AN ANGSTY PERSON. What’s sad is most of this shit actually happens. I just.. I can’t. 5k words
You could feel eyes boring into the back of your skull while you ate your rice, your grip on the chopsticks tightening slightly. It was obvious when people stared – the feeling of discomfort always gave those people away. Whether it was good or bad, you could tell by looking back. You had, and your eyes landed on a group of three boys, the two paler ones simply glaring, while the third decided to stick to occasional glances.
Anonymous said: Hi could you write a imagine where harry or Niall are frat boys and make it super cute and like fluffy and funny plzzzzzz they are my weakness and the other boys are there too but harry or Niall either one is like the leader.
A/N: Thank you for the request! This is my debut in the land of AU, so please be kind. Lots of fluff in this one.
You’re peering at the map on your phone screen as you come around the corner, trying to find the professor’s office for your meeting about adding his Genetics course to your schedule. Your advisor has told you that one more class will be too much, but you are determined to finish your biology degree in three years instead of four. This building is such a labyrinth. The room numbers are getting larger now, but they are all odd numbers, and his office is room number 154 which is definitively even.
But you’re running late, and looking down at the layout of the building on your phone, trying to figure out where you are when WHAM! you run smack into a solid wall, sending your books and phone flying in different directions. The force of the impact nearly knocks you over, so you reach out, pedaling with your arms to try to grasp at something so you don’t fall flat on your ass in the middle of the hallway. Strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you into a hard chest.
Gasping, you brace your hands on the solid warmth in front of you, looking into the greenest eyes you’ve ever seen.
“Oi!” the softest lips ever exclaim, “Are you okay, pet? Didn’t see you there. Shouldn’t have been texting my mate.”
I just got done reading These Shallow Graves by Jennifer Donnelly (It was super great btw) and it inspired me to do a Solangelo victorian AU where Nico is the son of a wealthy business man and Will is their newly hired gardner. I’m debating whether or not I should continue it…
“More tea for you, Mr. Di Angelo,” a maid said as she placed a fresh cup in front of Nico. Nico thanked her and watched her disappear into the other room; how he wished he could follow her.
He had been sitting with his mother and step sister for the past hour, listening to Drew Tanaka, the daughter of a wealthy merchant, gossip about fellow members of New York City’s elite. Hazel and Mrs. Di Angelo took great interest in the conversation. Their eyes would widen at certain comments, and they would let out disbelieving gasps at others.
Nico, however, could name a million other activities he’d rather be doing. Ever since his eighteenth birthday earlier that year, his parents had insisted that he find a wife. But, despite the fact that they had invited every girl in the city into their home, Nico felt no connection to any of them. While they were kind and intelligent girls, Nico could not find the attachment needed to build a successful marriage.
He sighed and sipped his tea. The voices of the three women around him faded to dull background noise as he allowed himself to get lost in his thoughts.
Nico felt guilty for not liking any of the girls. He knew his parents wanted him to find someone he could settle down with, someone who could give him companionship throughout his life. A soggy feeling settled in his stomach him every time he admitted to his parents that he had yet to find the right person.
Unable to stand the dreadful event any longer, Nico cleared his throat. His mother looked at him and frowned. “Yes, Nico?”
“I’m not feeling well all of a sudden. Would it be alright if I stepped out into the garden for a bit of fresh air?” he asked.
“Of course, dear,” Mrs. Di Angelo replied. She returned to her conversation while Nico stood from the table and made his way out the back door.
The warm spring air was a stark contrast from the stuffy atmosphere of the drawing room. Nico took a few deep breaths to calm his nerves before taking a seat on a stone bench nearby. The garden was always one of Nico’s favorite places. He felt hidden among the lush bushes of lavender and manicured hedges. A fountain burbled merrily at the center of the garden, while birds sang from the treetops. The scent of gardenias perfumed the air.
As he was taking in the scenery, his eyes suddenly fell upon an unfamiliar face tending the roses that climbed the garden walls. It was a boy who looked about his age with tan skin spotted with freckles, and a mop of golden curls that fell into his dark blue eyes. His face and clothes were caked in dirt, and several leaves were caught in his hair.
Suddenly, the boy noticed Nico and stumbled to his feet. “Pardon me, Mr. Di Angelo, I was just finishing up,” he said.
Nico’s face colored at the sudden attention. “No, no, it’s my fault for interrupting you. I just came to get a breath of fresh air.”
“Shouldn’t you be having tea with Ms. Tanaka today?” the boy asked.
Nico sighed, “Yes, I just needed a bit of a break. I hate those gatherings.” His eyes grew to the size of saucers at the realization of what he had said. “Of course, don’t tell my parents that,” he added hastily.
The boy laughed and sat down beside him. Nico’s heart skipped a beat at the proximity. He was close enough now that Nico could count the freckles on his face.
“You know, most men would love to be in your situation right now,” the boy pointed out.
“I suppose so,” Nico muttered.
“You don’t enjoy them?” the boy said.
Nico shook his head. “They are nice girls, but I don’t care for them. Not enough to marry them, at least.”
The boy shifted awkwardly, “I’ve never been much of a fan of women myself,” he admitted. Nico gaped at him. Had he really just said what he thought he said?
“Shit,” the boy cursed. He averted his eyes and ran a hand through his hair, “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, it’s fine, I don’t really like girls either. I’m not sure I want my parents to know that, though,” Nico replied.
A mischievous flicker appeared in the boy’s eyes. “There seem to be lots of things you don’t want your parents to know, yet you tell me,” he remarked.
Nico rolled his eyes, “Don’t flatter yourself.”
The boy chuckled, “Do you tell all your staff about the the secrets you keep from your parents?”
“You know, for someone who looks so charming, you have a gift for being annoying Mr…” Nico’s voice trailed off. He realized he did not know the boy’s name.
“Solace. Will Solace,” the boy-Will-said.
“Well then, Will, you are certainly talented at getting under my skin,” Nico finished.
Their conversation was cut short by the sound of someone pounding on the door that lead into the garden. “Nico!” Hazel called. “Nico, is everything alright? You’ve been gone an awfully long time!”
“One moment, Hazel!” Nico shouted. He turned to face Will, “I have to go before my mother starts to worry.”
“Of course. Duty calls,” Will replied.
They fell into an awkward silence. “Can I see you again?” Will said suddenly. Nico stared at him in shock. His heart was pounding so hard it felt like it would leap out of his chest. Will sighed and shook his head, “Nevermind, it was improper of me to-”
Nico cut him off, “I would love to.”
The corners of Will’s mouth lifted into a smile, “Okay, then. How about tonight, around ten? I can meet you in the same place.”
It was an effort for Nico to fight the blush that threatened to overwhelm his face. “That sounds perfect,” he answered. With one last goodbye to Will, Nico made his way across the garden and disappeared into the house.
Benvolio knew but very little about his soon-to-be wife. But one thing he did know was this: she was a proud woman, and asking did not come easily to her.
So when Rosaline Capulet asked something of him, he listened.
Rosaline had stayed sullenly quiet on most matters concerning their impending marriage, mostly speaking up on aspects that concerned her sister in some way. Whenever they met with a variety of representatives of both their houses to plan this practical aspect of the ceremony or that, she seemed wholly disinterested in the topic, and only reluctantly involved herself if pressed to do so.
But when her uncle brought her to the Montagues’ family seat for one such afternoon of planning, her usual withdrawn behaviour seemed tinted with uncharacteristic trepidation, and when Benvolio offered his arm to lead her up the stairs, her grip was far too tight to be considered proper on a woman who had been raised a lady.
At first, he only took note of her distraction to escape the boredom of listening to their uncles try to outdo each other with tales of their business acumen. But the longer Benvolio watched his betrothed, the more intrigued he became.
All morning, Benvolio kept finding proof that something was wrong with Rosaline. She seemed tense, skittish, barely managed to stay in her seat as her eyes frantically dashed around the room, jumping from one lower member of his house to the next. She tried to hide it, of course, not one to easily bare her vulnerabilities, but when the gates opened downstairs to let in a whole group of Montague men, freshly returned from a ride out with their horses, she actually flinched at the sound of their boisterous laughter, and her already strenuous grip on her cup of sweetened wine tightened even more.
It was only once the heads of their two houses had declared it time for a break that he found out what was behind her sullen mood.
After a light luncheon, Lord Montague invited them all to come see the new statue gallery recently installed in the inner courtyard, one of the largest and finest collections of contemporary art in the city. His uncle’s claim, though no doubt stated mostly for Lord Capulet’s benefit, was true, Benvolio knew: The gallery boasted statues by the most talented and original artists of the day, and Benvolio, the only one in the family with an eye for the arts, had made sure they were arranged in such a way as to best display their individual beauty.
It was this part of the house they were headed to now, and with Lord Montague busy watching Lord Capulet for signs of displeasure at being thus upstaged, and Lord Capulet determined not to show any such sign, it was easy enough to pull his bride away from the central aisle and towards a small stone bench set between two statues.
“You are unusually quiet this morning, Capulet.“
They had gradually come to be on friendlier terms, but not so much as to make him actually call her by her given name - though the privilege would by rights be his, since they had been engaged for some weeks now. He had, he thought, made a valiant effort to hate her, as the bloody tradition of their families and his own bruised pride demanded. For a brief moment after Romeo’s death, he had even attempted to blame her for it somehow - but then, he was just as much to blame for the tragedy that had ripped away their houses’ heirs.
But Benvolio had never been a man to whom hatred and resentment came easily, and smart, headstrong Rosaline was a difficult woman to hate. He may bristle at the way she turned up her nose at him, may feel the urge to take her down a peg or two with a well-aimed barb from time to time. But now, two months into their engagement, he only antagonized her for sport, and his jabs were merely meant to sting, not wound.
Now, Rosaline showed once more that candidness he had admired, even envied in her before: She neither tried to evade his question nor to deny his observation, but came straight out with her answer.
The first time she saw Victor skate, sitting
next to Yuuri as he excitedly rambled about Victor’s technique and form, she
could see in his young face that he loved it. The way he moved over the ice,
demanding the crowd’s attention and flourishing with a bright smile as the last
notes floated through the tiny speakers of the television, were all signs of
happiness. She had seen similar signs in Yuuri and was happy that her son had
found someone so positive to view as a role model.
Over the years she continued to watch Victor,
sometimes with Yuuri, sometimes without, and she began to notice the change.
His eyes didn’t crinkle when he smiled anymore, his smile was tense and on the
edge of uncertainty, while his posture had changed from proud to stiffly proper.
Victor’s passion for skating was dwindling, and she could see it devolving in
every performance and every poster her son proudly tacked to his wall.
Watching over Minako’s shoulder, Hiroko observed
the sullen performance, portrayed in a prince-like costume while Victor’s face
seemed consumed by his own emotions. Minako claimed it was better suited for a
man who was younger and more innocent. Hiroko believed it was the perfect
program for a man with a broken heart.
When Victor arrived in Hasetsu, bright-eyed and
bouncing on the balls of his feet, begging to know if he had found the
residence of Yuuri Katsuki, Hiroko could already tell he was a man in love. She
observed the flush of Victor’s cheeks every time Yuuri’s name was said, and the
way his gaze darted around as if Yuuri would appear at any moment. She had no
idea how Victor Nikiforov had fallen for her son, but she was certain that it
had happened. Within the first minutes of meeting him, Hiroko opened her arms,
her home, and her heart to Victor.
As certain as she was that Victor was in love with
Yuuri, she knew that Yuuri would remain oblivious to it for as long as it
suited him. Discovering Victor, crying into his own palm while seated on a
stone bench in the garden, Hiroko knew her son had unintentionally broken the
heart of the only man he had ever loved. Quietly sitting on the bench, Hiroko
slid a silent hand over the one he had left resting on his knee. When he
finally met her eyes, she smiled, sympathetic to the struggles of loving their
Yuuri. Victor had collapsed onto her, his mutterings a mix of Russian, English
and terrible Japanese, and she had held him tight until the tears vanished. She
knew there was nothing she could say to make it better and that they would find
each other in time.
She did, however, take the time to collect all
the posters from Yuuri’s hiding places. Waiting for a day when Yuuri was
scheduled to spend several hours with Minako, Hiroko pulled Victor to a table
in the dining room of the onsen and revealed her son’s secret. With every
poster and every story, she saw the hope return to Victor’s eyes. Reminding him
to be patient, she kissed his cheek and left him alone to gloat over his new
Makkachin sat on Mama Katsuki’s lap while she
wrapped her arms around his neck. On the screen Yuuri was declaring his love
for Victor for the whole world to hear, while Victor sat blissfully unaware of
what was happening. Before Yuuri returned home, she would pull Victor aside and
make him watch the translation of the press conference, echoing his squeals
when he jumped into her arms to celebrate. That night, they would make katsudon
together for the first time, presenting it to Yuuri with twin grins as he
arrived home. She slipped away, standing hidden at the door of the kitchen
watching her boys exchange shy smiles. Pushing the door closed, she smiled as their
shadows leaned together in what was to be their first kiss.
Makkachin lay on the floor, crumpled with
shallow breathing as Mama Katsuki raced to find the phone. It had been her
husband who carried Makkachin to the vet’s office, but it had been Mama Katsuki
who had refused to leave Makkachin’s side until Victor arrived. When he had
raced into the swinging doors, crying out for his baby, she had caught him in
open arms, holding him close as their tears fell in silent sobs. Together, they
would stay continuously awake until Makkachin was safe at home again.
It was Victor who called them first, unable to
contain his excitement over the ring that Yuuri had put on his finger. Mama
Katsuki had listened to every detail of the story, missing the parts where
Victor accidentally slipped into excited Russian, but understanding all the
same. Her boys had decided to stay together, and the joy of this fact left her
cheeks stained with happy tears.
Yuuri was out with Makkachin when Victor came to
sit next to her, his bottom lip being abused by the nervous biting of Victor’s
teeth. They were moving to St. Petersburg to be together. He was taking Yuuri
away from them again. Victor begged her not to hate him. The tears remained
unfallen as Hiroko wrapped Victor into a hug, whispering about him being a
silly boy and that they would love him, even from a distance. She wanted them
to be happy, and gave her blessings with a loving press of a motherly kiss to
On the day of the wedding, Hiroko stood in the
doorway of Yuuri’s childhood bedroom, suppressing her tears as she thought
about how far her boy had come. It wasn’t the gold medals and the world records
that made his journey worthwhile, but the love he had learned to appreciate
along the way. Feeling someone behind her, Hiroko turned to find Victor,
dressed in his wedding tux, nervously shuffling his feet. Accepting him into her
arms, she heard him whisper “thank you for everything” in his much-improved
Later at the reception, after Hiroko had danced with Yuuri,
she would accept Victor’s hand as well and join her other son on the dance
floor for her second mother/son dance of the night.
A/N: I am taking so long with requests but bear it with me, would you? Feedback <3
Ever since Steve’s team arrived into Wakanda,
they seemed to be a lot better; well, everyone except for one. (Y/N) was quiet
by nature, but after everything that happened, and the people she had lost
because of the men’s stubbornness, she decided to build up the highest walls so
no one could reach to her.
Her powers had caused terrible damage, and she
promised herself to not use them anymore; she was not completely in control of
them, and it almost seemed like they controlled her sometimes. The only place
where she could unravel them and feel completely free from her fears were the
gardens, but they were usually full of people and full of the king’s servants
who were kind enough to ask if everything was alright.
One day, as she started wandering, she found a
spot that hadn’t been taken care of in quite a while. It was calling her name,
and feeling her protective instinct blossoming once again, she went every day
for over a month just to take care of the plants that there laid withering.
(Y/N) was not at home, and she was most certainly not safe, but that portion of
land somehow needed her as much as she needed it. She moved things around with
her powers, feeling completely in control of her telekinesis for once in her
life. And she even created a small pond with her element-control. Only her part
of the gardens could bring a smile to her heart.
She was often seen carrying a book and running
away, not even the few teammates she still had in Wakanda could get more from
her than a greeting, and the king himself started to wonder what she did all
day and why she pushed everyone away.
Until he discovered her little secret. T’Challa
found her sitting on a stone little bench she had made all by herself. It was
still a bit rough, but comfortable enough to sit there for a while. He cleared
his throat to let her know there was somebody with her.
“Mind if I sit?” T’Challa asked as he pointed
at the empty space next to (Y/N). She nodded silently and he sat down. “Did I
“No—king T’Challa—you—” she stammered—“I was
just—nothing.” She shook her head and fell silent again, trying to focus her
sight on the book, but she couldn’t help but to look at him from the corner of
her eye. The man was not only beautiful, but in his presence she felt tiny, and
somehow, safe again.
T’Challa cleared his throat and began again.
“You know, I’ve always liked this side of the gardens, ever since I was a child;
whenever there was some sort of royal happening, I used to run all the way here
and my mother would find me somehow.” He sounded absentminded, but in his mind
one thought wandered, and it wasn’t even the reminiscence of his favorite
childhood memories, but he was trying to imagine how it would be if (Y/N)
smiled; he was most certain that he had never seen her like that. “It always
felt like an escape. My father didn’t even knew about the immensity of his own
palace…” he chuckled, “so how did you discover this?”
“I just started walking and… I got here.” She
shrugged. None of them looked at one another, but (Y/N) could feel how fixated
he was on her. “The plants needed some help.”
“I think I could hire you as the gardener,
would you like that?”
“If it means I can stay here…” she turned her
head to face him, “I would.”
“You know… I’ve asked around for you, but the
others said you were not talking to them,” (Y/N) bit her bottom lip almost
immediately, “may I know the reason why?”
“I just don’t know what I could say to them…”
She shrugged. “My mother used to tell me that if I didn’t have anything nice to
say, then I’d better keep quiet.”
“Don’t you think that’s a harsh thing to say to
a daughter?” He pointed out.
“My mother…” she started, “she was not the kindest
woman alive,” she gave him a quick look, “but it doesn’t matter, she’s not
among the living anymore.”
“I’m sorry to hear that…” he gulped. “And were
the Avengers somehow like a family to you?”
“They were the closest thing I had to a family,
and it ended up just like the first one, and probably just as bloody.” (Y/N)
pursed her lips in a thin line. “You know, when I was at school nobody really
liked me, and not only because I wasn’t popular. People feared me; kids feared
me because at kindergarten I spoke to a dying plant and it seemed to come to
live again.” She giggled, but it sounded more like a heavy sigh. “Then, things
around the house flew for no apparent reason, and that was when my parents
started to fear me too and so I ran away.” Her voice seemed to crack, so she
remained silent a few seconds before clearing her throat and starting again. “There
were some people looking for me, bad people, and they got to my parents because
they were the closest thing to me. They died because of me, because I wasn’t
there to protect them.” She inhaled sharply and shook her head. “Then SHIELD
found me and I became an avenger. I had a family again, a terribly
dysfunctional one because let’s face it, none of them knew how to have a
family. We were the outcasts, the weird ones. I felt at home but… It didn’t
last long.” She looked at her hands and hid them inside her sleeves. “The
things I love never last for long, mainly because I destroy them.”
“I’m sorry…” The king softly said. He looked at
her and to his eyes, she had never looked more vulnerable, but it wasn’t the
vulnerability that meant weakness; not at all. This vulnerability made her so
transparent, like a fragile glass, just a stone away from breaking into a
million pieces. She looked very differently from how she did in The Raft, where
she looked utterly terrified. (Y/N) allowed her walls to fall apart just enough
to let him know why she tried to shut everyone away. But her walls started to
build quickly up, and before T’Challa could say something, she was slowly
He followed her and grabbed her hand, trying to
make her turn around. Her (Y/E/C) eyes were getting watery, and a rosy color
tried to take over her cheeks. He didn’t know what to do, or if what he was
about to do was ok, but he went along with it, and taking a deep breath, his
hand went up to (Y/N)’s cheek and gently stroke it. She trembled under his
touch and in T’Challa’s mind, the worst fears played.
“Don’t do this, T’Challa.” She mumbled. “Get
away from me before it’s too late.” She tried to free herself from his grip. “I
don’t want to hurt you…”
“How about you let me decide if I want to get hurt
or not?” He softly asked, not wanting to let go of her. “And how about you come
out of your bedchamber to socialize? I’ll be hosting a party at the palace in
two nights, and I’d love to take you as my date.”
“I don’t even have a dress.” (Y/N) stuttered.
“I’m quite sure Ms. Maximoff can handle that
for both of us.” He leaned in to kiss (Y/N)’s cheek and bowed his head before
saying his goodbyes.
“T’Challa, wait!” She screamed, running her way
up to him; who, with long steps, had already gotten a few meters away. “I
haven’t even said yes.”
“Well,” he smiled, “I will go by your room in
two days and if you’re wearing pajamas, then I’ll know you’ve turned down my
invitation.” T’Challa took (Y/N)’s hand and lifted it enough to kiss it,
looking straight into her eyes.
And two days from then, King T’Challa knocked
on (Y/N)’s golden doors, only to be welcomed by one of the maidens that was in
charge of her. Inside the dormitory, Wanda was finishing the last details of
(Y/N)’s dress. The king couldn’t help to smile at the sight of such a beautiful
woman. She wore a long, navy blue dress that even though it was not tight, it
still held on to her curves perfectly. She turned around, almost in slow
motion, and smiled back at the dark complexioned man that so fondly looked at
She looked like a dream come true; like his own
little piece of heaven was on earth, right in front of his very eyes.
“You’re gorgeous,” T’Challa said in amusement,
“and you look gorgeous too.”
“You’re not so bad yourself, your highness.”
(Y/N) smiled as she bowed her head.
They walked together through the hallway that
lead to the big ballroom where a lot of people had gathered for a celebration
that (Y/N) was not aware of. The couple greeted some of the guests and everyone
kept mentioning how gorgeous T’Challa’s companion was. She did not feel afraid
of hurting anybody, because having him by her side was enough to keep her mind
occupied. She was very grateful for his ministrations to her, and she wouldn’t
have enough life to thank him for everything he had done.
Not only he managed to make her speak of her
past, but she also felt like she had a friend, someone she could really count
on, and (Y/N) appreciated that the most.
Once the greetings and protocol salutes were
over, the two were offered a glass of champagne to start the night; (Y/N) was
not a drinker, and mostly because of her uncontrolled powers, she declined the
drink as asked for some water instead.
“You never told me what you’re celebrating.”
(Y/N) mentioned at the table. They were sitting together, and in order to speak
to him, she had to lean in closer. T’Challa shivered lightly at the feeling of
her breath close to his skin.
“It’s my father’s birthday today,” he explained,
“and it’s a tradition to remember the birthdays of a king or a queen. I suppose
mine will be remembered one day.” He replied with a soft smile. (Y/N)
corresponded the smile with a soft giggle. “Hey! You’re smiling, that’s a
“I have a good reason to smile tonight.” She
conceded. “You know, I never met your father… but he sure as hell did a great
job bringing you up.” She sighed. “You’re a great man, T’Challa, and you’re
going to be an even greater king.” T’Challa smiled nervously; he was used to
receive compliments about his duty as the new king of Wakanda, but if they came
from (Y/N)’s lips, the compliments felt a hundred times better and it made his
heart beat faster than ever. “I don’t think I can thank you enough for taking
me out of my bedroom… I had forgotten how it felt to be with people, like real
people.” She shook her head and giggled. Then, she leaned her head on
T’Challa’s shoulder and felt how he tenderly kissed her hair.
“Shall we dance?” He asked, after a moment in
The musicians started to play a slow tune,
perfect for a romantic dance. The two stood up and headed for the center of the
dance-floor. For the first time, (Y/N) felt extremely nervous and
self-conscious around the king. There had never been that little space between
them; not even at the Leipzig airport, and not even when they were all rescued
from The Raft. She shivered when his big hand softly placed on the small of her
back, not too low, but not up high. She took a deep breath before relaxing
again and taking the hand that he offered.
When she looked up, she could’ve sworn
T’Challa’s eyes were in the shape of a heart. He looked down at her and smiled
when he found she was looking at him. He looked away with a winner grin and he
led the slow movements of their bodies.
“Is there a special person you left back home?”
He softly asked.
“No, I didn’t.” (Y/N) replied in a defeated
voice. “Love has not been good with me. I told you, I hurt everyone I love.”
She quickly looked away. “I just don’t think I’ll ever be good enough for
someone. I mean just look at me—”
“I am,” T’Challa cut her off, “and I have done
it for a while… and I have to say it; you’re the most gorgeous woman that I’ve
“You’re just saying it to make me feel better.”
(Y/N) shook her head in disbelief.
“I wish I did—” T’Challa let go of her hand and
placed it on her cheek, cupping it gently—“but I’m not. It’s hard to put it
into words, especially with this many people around us, but you’re good enough
for me, and you’re so, so good that I believe I’m the one who doesn’t deserve
“I—I… I just don’t know what to say.” She
“You needn’t say a thing,” he assured her,
nodding his head once, “just promise me you’ll never say something like you’re
not good enough again. You are good enough, you’re more than good enough, and
you don’t hurt the people you love, and you have my word about it.”
Out of a sudden, T’Challa felt brave enough to
lean in and gently press his lips on hers before she could argue any more. It
didn’t take long for her to realize what the blabbering was about; she wasn’t
really sure if she felt the same, or even if she was able to feel something for
somebody again, but the safety his arms, walls and gates provided were more
than enough to make her consider giving that leap of faith.
“T’Challa, I need you to hear me out on this
one.” She pulled away from him. “This is not easy for me, and I… I don’t know
if I feel the same about you.”
“I will not push you into something you don’t
want.” He assured. “Set the boundaries and I’ll respect them. I like you, but I
want you to be happy, even if it means without me.”
“And what if that’s exactly it?”
“We’ll figure that out together, then.” He
leaned in, but instead of kissing her lips, T’Challa kissed her forehead as
they kept dancing.
Chapter 2: “I didn’t think you would come back, lassie.”
Tamlin could rarely distinguish truth from reality. Sometimes, there are days when the two converge together, leaving him more confused than ever. Today would be one of them. Then, there’s the matter of the women residing in his court, vying for his attention to marry him. Would he ever find a suitable woman to marry, let alone love?