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nuagederose · 8 months

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As the Seasons Grey | Chapter Forty-Three: Build God, Then We’ll Talk

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All week long, Alex kept his eye on Christine, especially when he brought it back in to show her the framing: he also insisted on the inclusion of her signature at one point. He even gave her a brand new pen just for that, and the pressure was especially on her when she did it during class as well. She took off the cap and pressed the tip to the very bottom of the page: careful not to make the frame fall down the wall onto the floor, she lightly signed her name at that very bottom corner on the right.

“Christine has this untapped talent in art,” he explained to the class. “Hence why I've been rather intense about that in particular lately. She just... has it. You know, it's like when you meet someone and they have this utterly beautiful singing voice, and you wonder where it's been all your life. It's just like that.”

She lifted her hand and turned back towards him so everyone in the class could see the drawing as he had perched it against the blackboard. He brought it with him every day that week, and she knew that she had done something to him for him to do that.

“This should be in the Guggenheim,” he declared as he ran his fingers through his black hair. “I really mean that, too. This feels historic. It should be seen where everyone can see it.” He then tapped his pencil on the edge of the podium. “Five hundred word essay on French art! Due next Wednesday.”

“French art?” Christine asked him.

“Yeah! Go read about French art and tell me how you feel about it. Any era you'd like, be it the Renaissance or the modern era—bonus if you can get it to correlate with literature, too. Mr. Hansen offered to help me grade papers so my load's a little lighter this time around.” He rubbed his hands together and took off his glasses. “You all think you can do it?”

“Maybe,” Eric replied with a straight face.

“Oh, come on, Sluggo, it's at least five hundred words! It'll take you twenty minutes. Just tell me how you feel.” He waved his finger in the air as if to dismiss everyone.

“Does that include me?” Christine asked him in a low voice, and Alex glanced up at the drawing.

“I think what you did was plenty,” he replied to her, also in a low voice and with a wink to boot, to which she gasped.

“Alex, for real?”

“For real. A plus plus plus for Miss Peck.” She pressed a hand to her chest and mouthed “thank you” to him, and she scurried over to her book bag and scooped it off the back of her chair. Eric waited for her to put her coat back on, but then she caught a glimpse of Alex picking up the drawing and looking on at it. She hoped that he would take it home and put it in a good place where Captain Howdy wouldn't be able to find it. Christine ran her fingers through her ponytail and then she and Eric walked on out of there and to the hallway.

“I have to pick up Lou again,” he told her.

“Again?”

“Yeah. He's going to be over at Washington Square Park, though. Not that far of a drive this time around.”

“May I ask what he’s doing over there?”

“He’s got car trouble and… just enough change to get a single bus ride back to the park. He called me and said he doesn’t have that much money on him to make it all the way back to Queens. You know, with the feeder buses and whatnot.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah…”

They walked out to the parking lot, where the clouds hung low over their heads. Christine shivered and tugged the lapels of her coat up to her ears.

“Are you cold?” he asked her.

“A little bit, yeah,” she replied with a shudder and another shiver. Eric fumbled the keys but he caught them before he dropped them on the ground; when he reached the driver’s side door, he was quick to unlock the doors for the two of them. They climbed into the car at the same time, to which Christine shivered some more.

“Goddamn,” she muttered.

“I hope Lou can boogie over to us quickly,” Eric said as he fired up the car. “It’s too cold.”

Even though they made their way back to the street and they reached the archway within no time, they still had very little heat in the actual car itself.

“Let’s get out of here,” Eric grumbled as they pulled up to the curb and climbed out onto the sidewalk together.

“Yeah, it’s actually warmer out here than it is in there,” Christine declared as she joined him on the other side of the car. The fountains were silent for the winter time, but the water still swirled around before them, and they moved around enough for Eric to pick up a few flat stones from the concrete on the way over to the outer rim. Christine shivered and tugged her hood over her head: she hoped that Louie wouldn't be long as she could feel more snow upon them.

“I can't believe he put you on the spot like that,” Eric declared as they reached the water's partially frozen edge. He held the stone between his index finger and his thumb, and he skipped it across the surface: three skips before the head of the fountain at the center of the water.

“Who?” she asked him.

“Alex. He made you sign that drawing right in front of everyone. Totally put you on the spot.”

“He didn’t put me on the spot,” Christine assured him with a shake of her head. “I promise you, I wasn’t put on the spot.”

“If he put you on the spot, you’d be cursing him out, I would think…” His voice trailed off.

“He's very particular, Alex is,” she confessed to him.

“Come to think of it, I would imagine,” Eric replied as he skipped a stone out across the water. “I would imagine you are, too.”

“Yeah, I guess you could say that I am particular,” she said. “I like you with the white buttons on your shirt.”

“You like the white buttons?” He adjusted the lapels of his sweater underneath his jacket: he wore a black knit sweater with bright pearly white buttons the width of a cucumber medallion.

“Yeah. I don't know, it's a good look for you. The white buttons bring out the pale round shape of your face. It's like how I imagine Alex looking really good in a white shirt.”

“A plain white shirt or a shirt shirt? Like one that buttons up?”

“Either one,” Christine said. He showed her a little smile as he skipped the third stone, which brought four skips out before it sank on the other side of the fountain head.

“Excellent!” she decreed.

“I’ve gotten ten skips on this fountain here,” he told her. “Lou’s the skip master, though, at thirteen. No idea how he does it, either.”

“Does he like… flick his wrist really quickly or something?”

“I think so? I’ve watched him do it before and I can’t hardly watch him do it because his elbow blocks it.” He brushed off his hands and tucked them into his coat pockets, and shivered a long slow hard and deep shudder there next to her.

“Would you call yourselves boyfriend and girlfriend at all?” he then asked her.

“Who? Me and Alex?”

“Yeah.”

“I don't know what I would call us, to be perfectly honest,” Christine reluctantly confessed. “He's got a fiancée already and I'm the other woman. But he's never called me the other woman, though.”

“But it is obvious, though.”

“Oh, yeah. Between me and him, absolutely. But neither of us have said anything about it, though—probably because we can't. Whenever we get together, we just talk about stuff, rather than relationship stuff. When there is relationship stuff, it's usually about how his wedding is coming up but he would rather be with me, but he can't make up his mind, though.”

The two of them congregated by the railing of the fountain, just so they could peer into the freezing cold dark water right beneath them. Through the sparse pockets of ice crystals, they could see their own reflections gazing back at them. The feeling of snow lingered in the air over their heads, and Christine knew it was upon them.

“How do you feel about him getting married?” Eric finally asked her.

“I don’t want him to get married,” she replied. “You know, because we’ve had the misfortune of encountering her.”

“Right, right.”

“But at the same time, there’s this huge part of me that feels like I don’t deserve him. He’s perfect and everything I could ever ask for in someone else.”

“He reminds you of Chris,” he followed along.

“He reminds me totally of Chris, yeah,” she said as a few flurries fluttered down from the cold gray sky. “Even down to the nappy, kinky, slightly curly hair and the unusual nose. I’ve also just never… felt worthy of the time and attention of other people, either. Everyone else is good-looking and interesting except me. I have to fight to gain the attention of people, like it's not enough to just be boring. No guy—especially no guy like him—would ever want to be with me, it’s crazy to even think about.”

“You know, if it’s any comfort, I often feel that way,” he assured her.

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah. What girl wants to be with a short stubby half-Mexican boy with long black hair halfway down his back? Like it baffles me.”

Christine turned her attention towards him and the somber look in his brown eyes.

“This girl,” she said with a point to herself. “At least, be friends with each other. You know, you and I are going to California for some time in a few months.” And his face lit up as she said that.

“Indeed we are!” he chirped. “I’ve got almost enough money saved up for our little trip, too. Just waiting for my next refund to come through.”

“Beautiful!”

Something caught her eye right then, and she gazed past him to see the black newsboy cap over the head of black hair and a black pea coat on the other side of the fountain. A part of her wondered as to why she was there, especially when she lived further up along the spine of New York, but she would have to save that question for later.

“What?” Eric turned his attention behind him.

“Valentina!” Christine called out to her. “Valentina! Hi!”

“Hey!” she called out to them. She skirted around the side of the fountain and fixed the lapels of her coat all the while. “What're you guys doing here?”

“I should ask you the same thing,” Christine declared once she came within earshot. “We're waiting for a friend to come in on the bus.”

“I'm waiting for that same bus, too,” Valentina replied. “Marlene wants me to come and help her with some things.”

Christine then glanced over to Eric, who still folded his arms over the railing around the fountain and kept his attention fixed on those cold waters. They were leaving for California in June, and Alex's wedding took place in July. Not enough time once she put some thought about it and when she realized that the gray sky overhead only lasted for so long before it turned blue again. The hourglass only had so much sand in it.

“I have to think of a plan to interrupt that wedding,” she told her, to which Valentina showed her a smile.

“You’ve come to the right person. And we’ve got time, too.”

“Not that much, though,” Eric pointed out.

“Yes, but we really do have time,” Valentina insisted as she joined the two of them there. “First things first, do either of you know if you're invited or not?”

“Not at all,” Christine replied with a shake of her head.

“Okay, that's going to be a touch more difficult. We can always sneak in—especially if it's an outdoors wedding.”

“It's going to be Fourth of July weekend, so I reckon it'll be outdoors.”

“Okay. And I assume there's going to be booze there.”

“Knowing how Alex likes his wine, absolutely,” she decreed.

“You're gonna drink him under the table?” Eric followed along with a raise of his eyebrows.

“Val's one part Ukrainian and three parts Romanian, she can do it,” Christine assured him.

“I was also think of doing it to her, but I imagine it having a better effect on him,” Valentina said with a chuckle.

“Or you could do it the night before and give him a hangover,” Eric suggested. “And one such that he won't want to partake in it.”

“Hey, yeah! The night before during his bachelor party.” “But it's going to be a bachelor party, though,” Christine pointed out. “No girls allowed.”

Valentina held onto the brim of her hat and raised her eyebrows, and Christine gaped at her.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously! Eric is going to introduce Alex to his new friend Victor.”

Christine rounded Eric with her arm outstretched.

“You're Batman,” she told her.

“I am Batman!” Valentina declared with a chuckle.

“Dude—”

“Dude.” They gave each other a high five.

“I assume the other Sundaes are going to come along, too,” Christine quipped.

“I'll ask Sabrina if she wants to partake in the fun. You know, 'cause she and I are so close. I have no idea if Marlene and Colette are going to have time then, but I'll ask them, too.”

The bus lumbered up from behind the corner behind her and she hastily gathered herself.

“Looks like that's my ride,” she told them.

“What else are we going to do once we drink Alex under the table, though?” Eric asked her.

“Chris is gonna come in and make it all better for him,” Valentina declared as the bus came closer to the back of Eric's car. “He'll be far removed from his bride to be, and he'll hopefully have his feelings invested in the right place. It's simple, but we can only hope that it's airtight.”

The bus pulled up to the curb and the door squeaked open. She held onto her hat as she neared the open doorway, and at the same time, Louie almost stumbled right out of the back half of the bus. He flashed the driver a wave as he strolled on over to Eric and Christine.

“I just think of what Nelly said about them,” she confessed to him. “How they’re trouble.”

“Who, the Sundaes? The four girls who sat behind us in Mr. Hansen’s class?”

“Yeah. I remember her distinctly telling me that, too. But it’s weird, though, it’s like she had a change of heart or something. In fact, when she came back to school the other day, I mentioned to her that I spent the night with Valentina and she never bat a lash.”

“Interesting. I also hope it can all go according to plan and you can get to Alex in time, too.”

“I hope so, too. My one fear is that he can actually see through her disguise, or that neither of you can get into that party…” Her voice trailed off as Louie entered within earshot. She also had the pervasive fear that anyone from the outside, be it Louie or anyone else, figured out as to what they were doing.

#Spotify #as the seasons grey #as the seasons grey fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic with art #chapter 43 #alex skolnick #eric peterson #oc art #traditional art #traditional drawing #artists on tumblr #badgalnirvhannahart #testament #testament band

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charlotteevanswyn · 2 years

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Lost Genesis, Part 1: Angeline.

There was a gentle snowfall in which covered a city in the middle of the coldest region of Andysia Sal Vallus. A country to the north-east in which expanded widely to the south-east of the world. At the moment, many people within the city of Andys were gathering at a church, in which music could be heard pouring through the open front doors as they entered one at a time. The sun was rising overhead to the peak of noon. Inside, at least two hundred people were already gathered, with another hundred or two filing in to fill more empty seats. The surrounding area had other people milling about outside, some in the graveyard attached to the side of the church itself, grieving lost loved-ones.

The seventh day of the week was their day of rest. Not a soul was seen working outside of essential jobs, and to those people, even they were given pass to take it easy. They took this day very seriously every week. It was a time to regenerate, recuperate, and celebrate the end of the week, and the subsequent beginning of the next week.

Elsewhere in the city, there was a gigantic mountain that was completely isolated, almost as if created, which was situated at the far north end. Because the terrain surrounding the mountain was considered impassable for the current era, many believed that the mountain was the end of the world on the northern side. Although, despite modern science having proven that false, the belief that the mountain was truly an "End" of some kind remained strong.

Aside from the many gathering about the church, a handful were ascending the only pathway up the mountain, carrying bags over their shoulders, or baskets in their hands. Filled with gifts, mostly food, and other such things for the being that supposedly lived in this mountain.

Inside the church, a young girl with beautiful snow-white hair and blue eyes sang alone, accompanied only by instrumentals played by the clergymen and a few nuns. Her voice filled the church fully, and many felt it touch their hearts as though she were giving her entire life out.

She was twelve, and the most adored girl in the entire city. Many from other cities came to hear her sing on occasion, and this week was especially seen full of foreigners from even other countries coming to hear her voice. The news of this beautiful young girl had reached the whole of the world itself. There was even a small team in the rafters overhead recording her performance.

Her name was Angeline Lailah Aerhardt. She was in line to become the next High Priestess of the Andysian Church after the current one passes. In the audience her father was present. His hair was graying, and his eyes were the same blue as hers. He was decorated with medals in his military uniform, a beautiful white suit and large coat to match it. He wore a proud smile as he watched his daughter sing upon the stage of the church.

Coming down from the mountain around this time now was a young boy with long black hair, and blue eyes. He was in a hurry down, rushing by those who were ascending the mountain path. He had been running for a few minutes already, and nearly tripped a few times as he went. Always though, he found his footing and kept going, always avoiding a scratch anywhere on his body. His clothes were simple, much different than the typical resident of the city. He was clearly poor, if not completely impoverished. Many believed he was an orphan, since no one was aware of his parents at all. He looked towards the church as he hurried down, his breathing became a bit labored as he started to reach the bottom, and continued to run for the church.

By the time he had reached it, he heard the instruments coming to an end. He made it up the stairs to the doors, and was greeted by a clergyman who he brushed off and walked by without greeting back. The clergyman sneered at him and saved face for the next person coming in to attend the upcoming sermon.

His name was Kaneryo Sora Valentine. He wasn't quite looked at fondly. If anything, he was infamous for simply existing. He didn't know the reason why, but there were rumors he was a monster. Orphans were thought to be pretty much impossible, especially ones that don’t adopted as long as he has. A cursed child, was the story, a monster that was trying to hide among them. His pitch-black hair was quite uncommon for the region, as almost everyone there had a lighter shade of brown or some shade of blonde hair.

Kaneryo, who preferred to be called by Kane, never quite understood the grievances people had with him, but he usually shrugged it off and barely paid attention either way. He made his way down the center aisle to his usually sitting place near the front, and slid in just in time to see Angeline giving a bow to everyone.

He frowned a bit. He missed her performance again this week. It was the eighth time in a row he wasn't fast enough to get down the mountain to see her perform. And like usual, he slept in due to the problems he was experiencing otherwise. Angeline stepped down off the stage and walked down the aisle to sit with her father, passing by Kane as he watched her go. For a moment, she glanced back to him, having noticed him watching to intensely. Their eyes locked for a moment, and both of their hearts skipped a beat. She turned quickly and headed to her father after he beckoned her closer. Kane turned his head to the front stage as the head priest, a man by the name of Father Arkwryght, called for everyone's attention.

Kane didn't care for the sermon itself, but he would seem rude and disrespectful if he left now. So, he'd have to suffer through another hour of nothing enjoyable.

After the sermon had ended, the gathering had stood to begin leaving, and the crowd became dense and difficult to navigate. Kane tried to see if he could spot Angeline again, but wasn't able to. He was bumped into by an older woman with golden-blonde hair, and knocked over by her. She stopped, "Oh! I'm sorry little one!" she knelt down and offered a hand to help him stand back up. He carefully reached up and went to take her hand. Her husband grabbed her shoulder, "No, Barbara. That's the cursed one. Let's go before he haunts us."

She hesitantly took her hand back and stood up, leaving with her husband while Kane slowly stood up on his own, brushing his thin linen shirt off. He bit back his voice, not wanting to shout at them for that.

As the gathering cleared, Kane eventually managed to get outside. He looked around a small bit, but then heard behind him, "Mr. Valentine? I'm surprised to see you down here."

As Kane turned, he saw Father Arkwryght. Kane took a step back, "Oh, F-Father Arkwryght… Sorry, I came down to see Angeline, but I barely missed her." he grabbed one of his arms nervously, sighing with a hint of dismay.

The priest got down on his level and smiled, "Don't worry, Kaneryo. I am certain you will catch her next time."

Kane hated seeing that smile. He turned immediately and hurried off. The priest stood and shook his head, "That boy…"

Kane ran to the mountain path again, starting his way up as others were beginning to come back down.

He watched some go by, and received quite a few looks at he went back up.

Nasty looks, like he was a thieving little child about to steal the offerings they had just placed there.

Well… Unfortunately, those offers were for him. Although a majority of the townsfolk weren't fully aware, the 'Monster' they were giving offerings to, to keep at bay, was him.

The rumors had started when he was born, after all. Ever since, they'd go up every week on the seventh, and leave offerings to keep whatever "Monster" lived on the mountain at bay.

But that same monster was claimed to be that boy.

Kane made it to the top of the mountain as the sun was beginning to move overhead, ready to settle for the evening to break in. The snow had stopped falling, the skies had cleared by then. He looked to the bags and baskets left at the top, and began to rummage through.

It was all worthless.

Broken items. Old weathered and worn clothes and week's old foodstuffs.

It seemed insulting. If he had really been a monster, he was certain he'd have killed the entire city's people by now.

But even in that thought, he saw Angeline in the back of his mind, and the dismay and sorrow she'd feel if he did such a thing.

He covered his face and sat on his knees, barely holding himself up with his other hand as he bent over.

It was painful. Utterly and completely painful.

He sorted through the offerings a bit more after a few minutes. He pushed aside what was essentially trash dropped off on him, and found a few things of actual worth. Some old books he could read, those were his favorite to get. There was at least one meal that had been prepared that day. Of course, the city still had some good people… Or at least, people who rightfully feared a monster in the mountains.

As the sun began to settle behind the horizon, Kane got a bit of the trash together and gathered in a pile before finding a few sticks to pile over top that, then kept his hands together for a second while breathing carefully.

It was somewhat difficult. The air was thinner up here, and so breathing was harder, and especially for him, to breath was so much more necessary than simple basic need to survive. It was his source of mana. He deeply inhale before gently parting his hands and exhaling. A small flame blew from his mouth and caught the pile on fire. He sat cross-legged in front of the small fire as he shivered ever-so-slightly from the winter air.

The cold typically didn't bother him like it did others, but during the middle of winter, up on the mountain, even he began to get cold.

He watched the sky darken overhead and begin to reveal stars along with the full moon. The gentle light that shone overhead was beaten out only by the campfire he'd made in front of him.

A breeze blew in from the updraft, and came over the mountain ridge. His hair blew back, and settled gently against the back of his neck and face. He then stood up and looked over to the mouth of the cave that led downwards, and descended for the evening, carrying a bag of books, and the offered meal from earlier with him.

After reaching the bottom, it was lit dimly by crimson crystals in the wall, as well as a few other colored crystals in different parts of the higher walls. He found his alcove, which was lit by a single beautiful, gently glowing flower that grew from a crack in the rocks, where some dirt had been. A silver-leafed and stemmed flower with ruby-red petals shaped similarly to a blossom. Coated thinly in frost, it gave off a gentle cool air that offset the warmth of the mountain's depths, and its gentle glow gave him enough light to read.

The book he'd been given had been a story which involved a hero and heroine. A companionship he was desperately longing for. He had long given up on family of any kind. All he wanted now, especially after reading stories like these, was someone to call a friend. A friend, or lover, someone he could have as his own, to call his own, to be there with him just to speak.

He had a feeling though, that it could never happen. It simply wasn't in his favor.

Despite being moon-kissed by the Goddess in the Dark Sky, he had never once experienced her blessings or favor. He wondered if the mark on his sternum meant anything at all.

He set the book aside and ate. The meal was good, prepared by what must have been a grandmother. It simply had that kind of feeling within it.

After he ate, he laid back on the stone floor, looking up at the ceiling aimlessly as his thoughts wandered pointlessly between topics with no rhyme or reason. Nothing stuck, it seemed pointless to think too hard to begin with.

His eyes drifted over as he noticed an ethereal blue butterfly gently flying into his view. He slowly sat up and held his hand out. The butterfly landed on his finger and he brought it closer, "Hello. What's your name?"

The butterfly gently flapped its wings, and a hollow voice rang out, 'My name is Sophie. What is your name, little one?'

Kane, "I'm Kane. What brings you down here?"

The butterfly flew off his finger and to his flower, gently landing on it, "The Snow-Blossom called for me. It has an excess of mana, and needs to be drained a little so it doesn't die."

Kane looked over, "That can happen?" he asked while pulling his legs in to sit cross-legged.

Sophie, the ethereal blue butterfly gently flapped its wings as she let off a soft glow, "Of course. Excess of any kind can be harmful to anyone. Mana in living things must be regulated, if its left unchecked, it can bloat your Soul, and suffocate your Spirit."

Kane tilted his head slightly, "Well, I guess I shouldn't worry too much then. I don't ever have much mana at all."

Sophie lifted off the flower as its glow died down slightly, then flew over to Kane, landing on his shoulder, "I would not worry too much, little one. You have as much mana as you need. Your body seems quite adequate at regulating it by itself, which is a marvel for someone your age. You should be proud. After all, you can speak to spirits like I with this much fluency and ease."

Kane, "Is it not normal to be able to speak to spirits, Sophie?"

Sophie, "Almost nobody can. You are very special in this case."

Kane seemed unsure, "The priests can talk to spirits, though…"

Sophie, "They can ask spirits questions and receive vague answers. That is not the same as what we are doing now. We are talking openly, freely. There is no limit to our ability to understand one another through words."

Sophie then flew off his shoulder, "Please do not doubt yourself, little one. I would be so sad to see you squander your gifts from the Mother of The Dark Sky in such a way."

Kane watched her fly until she was out of view. Then, he scooted back against a wall and put a hand over his sternum, "…Gifts…? But, what good does talking to spirits do me…?"

…Elsewhere, Angeline was sitting on a thin bed over a metal frame which sat in shallow water off the shore of an artificial garden in the courtyard of the church. It was surrounded by walls of the church, and not a single window allowed view inside from the sides. The top was open completely, exposed to the sky as the moon came overhead. As she sat there, a nun came over with a plate in her hand, lined specifically and purposefully with certain flower petals and wings of insects such as butterflies, moths, dragonflies, and a set of a bee's wings. The plate was laid on the bed, and the nun gave a bow before leaving.

Angeline lifted her thin fork, and stared at the plate as a look completely betraying her visage on stage overcame her. It was apathetic and unfeeling, completely cold and devoid of any visible hope. She stabbed a petal and brought it to her mouth, eating it. There was no sustenance physically, but she could feel the mana within it filling her magical circuit.

It tasted awful. Horrible, even. Especially the wings of moths. It was dirty and disgusting, barely prepared in any meaningful way. Served as is, difficult to swallow, unreasonable to consume. It was frustrating.

Her father had no idea it was even happening. She couldn't bring herself to tell him either. To disenfranchise her father with the church he adored his entire life, she felt wasn't her place. Besides, this was a traditional practice to prepare a girl for the transition to High Priestess, so it had to be okay somehow.

She thought for a moment about running away. Denying any request to become the high priestess, maybe even run away from the country itself, somewhere else. She likely could, she was protected by the mark on her sternum after all.

She looked to the sky, and frowned, "Oh mother… Where are you?" She'd asked the question so many times. Now she wondered which mother she was asking for. Her biological mother, or the Goddess who blessed her.

She closed her eyes for a moment and gently breathed as she recalled a vision from many of her nightmares. Wolves howling, piercing screams of hellish cries. A woman's face she didn't recognize haunted her. A beautiful woman with bright, crimson eyes, and snow-white hair like her own.

She knew how her mother looked, in fact, Angeline herself was the spitting image of her mother. Some time ago now, her mother had disappeared, but her father had assured Angeline that she would come home some day soon.

That was five years ago.

Her mother had never once come home since then, but her father never wavered in his faith to her mother, his wife.

As she finished the plate, and set the fork on it, she looked over to see Father Arkwryght watching over her from under the archway leading back into the halls of the church. Next to him was his son, a slightly older boy of eighteen named Hadianteras who was watching her as well. She had been told she would marry the boy some day, as the High Priestess was always meant to marry the men of noble families.

Naturally, Arkwryght was a noble family in Andysia, one of the highest esteemed.

Angeline never felt anything for him, though. Despite his best efforts to win her over and become her friend at all, she never showed any form of interest.

But there was already documentation for their eventual marriage.

Whether she really wanted to or not, she was going to have to marry him some day.

Angeline looked away, and Father Arkwryght took his son down the hall back into the church to leave her alone.

As she thought over that fact, she felt a numbing sensation in her legs, and a weakness in her fingers. She hated the idea of marrying someone so fake. The smiles Hadianteras put on for her were never there when he looked away. The kindness he displayed when he knew she was watching was always lacking when she spied on him from afar. He was fake in every way, only there to please his father it seemed. But even then, he seemed to truly care about being loved by her. Maybe because he just didn't like the idea of having to marry a loveless woman.

In any case, she wouldn't have to for another four years thankfully. Maybe within four years, some other noble she actually liked would come around, and the documentation could be revoked for the sake of actual love.

As she thought about a noble, the vision of Kane from earlier came to mind. He was the absolute opposite of anyone of noble blood. His black hair was… What was it to her? It was beautiful. Unique, even. She had never seen someone with hair like his. It was smooth, straight. It was kept but still maintained a wildness to it. She had seen him before, handling animals that had become restless for the farmers.

Despite what many of the city-folk said, he was the opposite of a monster. Even her father occasionally let slip some annoyances with the seeming loathing the poor kid received.

Her mother had once mentioned a young boy with black hair too, back when they were still a whole family.

She wondered if her mother knew who Kane was.

She didn't know his name of course, and she felt afraid to ask anyone about him. Maybe tonight she could ask her father about him?

The water surrounding her gently glittered in the moonlight, and she brought her hands together, "…Oh Mother… please guide me from here. Some day, one day… Whisk me away from this accursed holy place, spare me from this stagnant tradition. Let me choose my lover, my husband. Please, don't leave me to be given away…"

She looked up at the sky again, the open sky shining brilliantly with stars, "…Upon my sternum lays the mark of the moon, a blessing given only to those born under the Dark Moon. It must mean something more than a simple happenstance of birth. I've been told I'm blessed by you, but I have yet to feel such a way. All that has happened to me has been because of my wonderful father, and this accursed church. So what is it then that you have blessed me with? Is it my magical talents? Those were given to me by my mother and father's blood. It cannot be that… So what? Mother, please, give me a sign that I am still your child."

There was naught but silence. She frowned and hung her head, pulling her hands apart to support herself. Her shoulders shook a bit, "What do I do…?"

She was left in silence under moonlight. Not an answer to be heard anywhere. Not from the Mother of The Dark Sky, nor from her own mother.

She felt dismayed, and looked to her side just as an ethereal blue butterfly was flying by. It landed on a flower growing from the shallow water, and saw it gently glow as it retrieved mana from the flower, then flew under the archway with a gentle dance to its wings. She hopped off the bed and her feet landed in the shallow water, making a small splash before she carefully walked over to the archway to start following the butterfly.

She made it down the hall a fair ways before she was stopped by a passing nun, "Oh, my Lady. Have you already finished your ritual for the evening? Do I need to call your father?"

Angeline looked past the nun and saw the butterfly disappear around a corner, then looked to her, "Y-yeah. I'm done. Could you please call dad? I want to go home."

The nun nodded gently and led Angeline the opposite way the butterfly went, out into the main congregation area and had her sit on a pew while the nun went to the phone booth to call her father over.

Angeline sat in the empty church hall with a sad feeling in her chest. She really wanted to see what the butterfly was trying to show her, she could tell it wanted her to follow it.

While she wasn't capable of communicating with spirits like her mother could, she was sure if she could interact with them at all, then she should be able to someday speak to them, if she just tried hard enough to be with them more.

But now, in the modern age, as steam and smoke filtered the skies in larger, more industrial cities, the spirits had become sparse and rarely ever seen. The common man could no longer even see a spirit, let alone those well practiced in magic or witchcraft.

Very few could see spirits, in fact, the only families in all of Andysia who could were the Aerhardts, Romanovs, and the Luciusyn. Even in her own family's name, Angeline was the only one with a clear view of the spirits. Her father had told her he'd long since forgotten how to see spirits, but he could still every so often hear their faint whispers speak to him.

Members of the church could allegedly speak to spirits, but in a very limited capacity by using magic to bridge the two worlds that housed the world she lived in, and where the spirits resided.

However, none of them could freely see or speak to spirits, not even the great High Priest Maxwell.

Angeline looked up as her ear twitched, recognizing the sound of her father's boots against the church's wood floor as she looked over and saw him. She stood up and hurried over to her dad, giving him a hug. He gently hugged her back, "Aw… Did you miss me, little one?"

Angeline tightened her grip on her father, "Mhm… I wanna go home, can we go right home?"

He laughed and lifted her up onto his shoulders with ease. Despite his apparent age, he was still in great shape. He was after all still in active duty to the Andysian military, and at that, he bore the emblem of a General. A golden dragon with blue accents was laid in a patch on his right shoulder, marking his name and rank. General Matthew Joseph Aerhardt.

He carried her outside, kneeling down under the front doors ridge as to not bump Angeline's head as he carried her over shoulder. After reaching the car, he brought her off his shoulder, and opened the passenger seat for her.

Angeline got into the car and gently held her dress up to avoid it being caught in the car door, and her father shut it.

Matthew got into the driver's seat and started the car, backing out of the church's parking lot and beginning to drive down the road.

Angeline looked out the window as she always did during any kind of car ride, looking at stores and buildings along the way.

At some point, she got distracted by the mountain over yonder, and stared at it, "…Dad? Do you know who the monster is that lives up there?"

Matthew laughed, "Why do you ask? Are you afraid it might come down?"

Angeline nodded slightly, "Mhm."

Matthew slowed down to stop at a red stoplight, and rested his wrist on the steering wheel, "They say a great Beast of Darkness rests upon that mountain, but the only person I've ever seen come down during the daylight, who goes up during the nightlight, is that young boy you met a few years ago."

Angeline looked over to her father, "Huh? Did I… You mean, the boy with black hair?"

Matthew looked at his daughter, "Did you forget, dear? You saved him from being picked on by a few of the older kids by scaring them off. Apparently you said I'd kick their butts."

Angeline blushed and looked away, "D-did I? It sounds like something I'd do… But, I don't remember it very well. In fact, I don't recall it whatsoever… How old was I?"

Matthew sighed and scratched his beard, "It was only a few months after your mother left… So a little over five years ago now. That kid, he strikes me as the kind of child who's going to suffer because of other people's ignorance."

Angeline frowned, "That's not fair."

Matthew stepped on the gas as the light turned green, "You'll find that many people have not lived such lucky lives as you and I have, Angeline. That boy is a prime example."

Angeline looked to her father, "But, aren't you one of the people that helps protect people like that, daddy? You're a general and-"

Matthew, "Unfortunately, Angie, I'm not allowed to help that kid. Otherwise I would have by now. Everything involving him now is up to the Church and Mr. Romanov. Has been since he was discovered. I don't like discouraging you of anything, but you'd be much safer if you didn't try to concern yourself with him too much."

Angeline looked back out the window towards the mountain. She heard the hurt in her father's voice having to tell her that, and quietly accepted that he had to be right about it. Still, it didn't feel quite right. If that boy she saw earlier, when they locked eyes just before the sermon, was really living up in that mountain… She wondered how he was surviving all by himself.

She absentmindedly brought her hand to her sternum as she looked at the mountain, "Okay." she gave a halfhearted response to her father.

Matthew smiled slightly, "Here, why don't we stop by the coffee shop and pick up a couple cakes? You've been super good in school lately, so I think its time you got a reward."

Angeline's mood shifted only slightly, but the promise of cake certainly had her attention away from thinking about the mountain or the boy she saw earlier that day.

After visiting the coffee shop together, Matthew drove them home, and Angeline enjoyed her cake in her room.

She sat on her bed, which was dressed in a simple but cute pink bedding set and a white blanket. She looked out her window at one point, and saw the mountain peaking between neighboring houses. After she finished her cake, she set the plastic plate down on her nearby desk and walked over to her window, hopping up onto the window cell and looking out at the mountain. The moon overhead shone brilliantly in the sky, and tried to bleed its light into her room. She glanced over to her light switch and rocked her head to the side. She then hurried over to her light switch and turned it off, then went back to her window cell to enjoy the moonlight.

As the light shone inward through her window, it touched the crescent moon scar on her sternum, gently reflecting a silver light off of it. She kept her knees lightly hugged, and leaned against her window.

She then thought for a moment, back to the boy from earlier that day. She had seen his face so clearly, and before she had looked away, she'd tried to get another good glance at him.

Maybe, just maybe, her eyes were playing a trick on her, but she could have sworn with his low-cut linen collar, she had spotted the same crescent scar on his sternum as well.

Part of her wanted to believe they were connected somehow, that way she would have an excuse to look for him.

They'd met before once, but she couldn't remember. But that couldn't be right, she remembered everything from the moment she was three years old onward perfectly.

She held her head a bit, confused, "His name… I know his name, I know I know it… But what is it? K. It starts with a K. Keith? Kendrick… Karl… No. None of those sound right… Why can't I remember what happened that day?"

She looked out the window again and moved her hand down from her head, she then glanced to the church, "…Did… Did they take that memory from me?" she held her hand over her sternum with a hint of fear. She quietly trembled at the thought.

Inquisitors of the Church were capable of altering memories down to the very Soul. But not even they could make a Heart forget entirely.

She knew she knew who the boy was. Absolutely, she had memories of her father quietly complaining about being useless in the matter surrounding him, even if vague. She had clear memories of dealing with older kids by the bridge at the park, but who was she defending? She thought she had protected herself, but her father said otherwise… Did the Inquisitors forget witnesses?

She shuddered and dropped down from her window, running to her bed and hiding under her covers.

She buried her head under her pillow for good measure.

Angeline didn't want to attend the church the next day, but knew she was going to. She considered running away again.

But… She couldn't leave her father. Her mother had left him, and she didn't want him to lose his daughter too.

Angeline quietly cried under her pillow, overwhelmed with no sense of what to do.

She was utterly lost, confused… She was scared.

In the mountain, Kane was holding his hand over his sternum as he felt a wave of melancholy. Typical for around the time of night for him, but it felt heavier than usual, and his crescent scar ached.

Tomorrow was going to be another day of painful descent down the back of the mountain to the reservoir.

Within that reservoir laid many beautiful gems, crystals, and materials the church had instructed him to retrieve during the working week.

He did it because it helped his reputation grow from "Hated" to "Tolerated."

He hoped it would eventually get him accepted by the Church and public people if he worked hard for them, and helped out any way he could.

For now though, he brought the bag of books over to give his head some support as he laid down to sleep.

It was awful. Uncomfortable, cold, and terribly lonely.

Like every night, he was going to quietly cry himself to sleep.

Maybe the next week would change something? He hoped. He hoped beyond hope, that like the books he had read, that suddenly his life would turn around. That it would change drastically for the better.

Maybe some old man would show up, a wise sage that told him he had a grand destiny to fulfill.

Maybe news will reach him that he's actually some nobleman's long lost son, and he has an incredible inheritance to claim.

Maybe, just maybe, someone will find him who wants to be his friend… And that his friend will somehow convince everyone to accept him because they defeated some villain together because they had each other.

#original work #character #fiction

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whirlybirbs · 3 years

Text

FEVER-DREAM ; echo/reader

summary: echo is fine-tuning his new prosthesis. you have experience, you help. unspoken feelings are acted on. adoration blooms. you learn what mesh’la means.

word count: 3k

pairing: echo / f!reader

tags: mutual pining, lots of tender looks, victorian-era hand-touching sluttiness, echo is a gentle soul, reader is head over heels, a touch of ptsd mention, set on ord mantell, mention of our boy fives, in this house we love assistive devices, enough sexual tension to power the death star

a/n: this is me round-house kicking the bad batch writers in the throat because they made echo cosplay a droid — but, also because this man deserves to be treated as more than a means to a mission’s end. majority of you know i am ~bitter~ (understatement of the century) of tbb’s plot/design/writing. but echo has been a favorite from the original days... so have some very soft fic.

i reference character redesigns by @nibeul in this piece — please go peep them here, and some updated character spreads here! they’re really beautiful and add a phenomenal layer of storytelling to the existing designs that’s lacking. nibuel’s art and writing is lovely. please give them a follow — i can’t rec their work enough.

“How does it feel?”

The words are nearly whispered; it’s clear you didn’t want to startle him, and Echo can feel the pinch in his brow soften at your sudden appearence in the doorway.

His bunk, at the back of the Havoc Marauder, is small — the space itself even more so. There’s a makeshift partition, hooked together with spare parts and meant to offer a bit of privacy on the cramped vessel. Its slate grey color has faded, and the edges have become tattered in the cycles of use.

When Echo pulls his dark eyes up from his work, you’re leaning against the frame — your expression is earnest.

For a moment, the once-ARC Trooper is quiet.

He wonders if he’ll ever get used to your attention. Each and every time, it sends him into a spiral; his heart catches as he inhales and tries to push down the warm stir in his gut. The sight of you is enough, nowadays, to melt Echo’s well-maintained irritability. His attention is stolen from his ever-present pain, if only for a bit.

There are plenty of days where he misses the old him — the wide-eyed, eager ARC Trooper who had his brothers by his side. His real brothers. Hevy, Cutup, Droidbait... Fives.

Fuckin’ hell, Fives was probably staring down at him now laughing.

No matter what changes, you’re still shit with the ladies, vod’ika.

In a way he hasn’t fully admitted to himself, you make him feel like himself again. Like... Like some shiny cadet, on leave and distracted by the promises of pretty smiles passing-by. It’s good.

This makes him feel... good.

He flexes, and his right hand — the new, gunmetal durasteel cyberized-prosthesis — closes into a tight fist. It’s taken him a bit, but the feeling isn’t so foreign now. It’s still... slow. Slower than he’s used to, but you’d mentioned it may take some time. The phantom feelings get better, too. All in all, it’s a good thing.

Your own hand, your left, glimmers back in the same gunmetal color.

(Echo had never pressed you about the missing limb — not until one day, in Cid’s, you’d joined him in a quiet corner. You’d spilled your drink and a complaint about getting the star-cherry syrup out of the joints had slipped out. Echo had laughed; a real laugh, the sort that was so rare coming from him, it had you staring at him as if he’d hung ever star in the sky.

Can I ask how it happened? he’d said, breaking the heavy silence when your eyes never left his.

The Pykes, you’d said, and that was enough.)

“I haven’t, uh... Haven’t gotten the sensory calibration right yet.”

Then, his prosthesis cramps. His fingers go rigid, and Echo curses sharply as he reaches around his forearm to quickly reboot the appendage. It goes slack, then hums alive once more.

You wince.

You’re slow to move into the room — and you settle atop one of the crates Echo had stolen from the belly of the ship, an old Mantell Mix shipping container. You’re mindful to set his datapad aside, to not disturb his space too much. Before you reach for his hand, however, you lift your chin and open your hands in your lap.

“May I?” you ask, just as soft as before.

Echo feels small under your gaze.

Truth be told, you’re doing more than just... asking. You’re taking him in — appreciating him. It’s a habit that’s grown more and more apparent to not only himself, but the others.

In recent rotations, Echo has let his hair grow out — not long, but the once close buzz he’d kept has begun to curl at the top. Not entirely dissimilair to how it was before the Citadel. The dermal implants, the ones the Techno Union installed in order to parse the nuerological data in his head, stand out against his warm-colored skin.

His usual AJ^6-inspired headpiece is resting on his bunk.

That damn thing.

A neccesary tool. One that, given the amount of user data Tech had procured when working on modifying the implant, Echo found himself immediately distrusting. It wasn’t as if the AJ^6 cyborg construct had a beautiful track record, and frankly, Echo would like to keep his personality in tact, thank you very much. There were plenty of days he felt machine enough.

It wasn’t often you saw him without the headset; you knew it made linking in via his scomp easier to handle, it made the visualization of data transfers as easy as breathing. For Echo, it was a part of his vast kit, an important tool. For you, seeing him without it bubbles up a bit of a smile.

Echo catches it.

His eyes narrow playfully.

He looks... well. You — hell, are there words for it? For the way the sight of him makes you feel? It’s like there’s a world full of potential there, a thousand words unsaid, and feelings that have steeped in the warmth of longing gazes and half-there touches.

You’re still looking up at him, knees bent on the crate.

You blink, realizing you’ve been caught staring — not for the first time and certainly not for the last. In the beginning, it had left a sour taste in Echo’s mouth. But, now... Well, it stokes a sort of pride in his chest that he hangs onto.

It never gets easier to recover from — certainly not when Echo smirks. He moves to allow you to take his prosthesis into your lap. The gesture is gentle; your fingers cradle the firm yet pliable metal.

“What?” he asks. His voice, low and rough and warm, is tinted with amusement.

“Nothing,” you say vaguely with a shrug — as if that’s supposed to explain any part of your enamored stare. Your attention moves to the prosthesis.

“Nothing?” he asks, moving to thumb his left ear with his free hand with a dash of nervousness. A habit. Echo tilts his head as his fingers brush the cochlear implant there. The panel rests neatly against the side of his head, a small rounded-off square. The bite of self-consciousness has dwindled around you — but still, it creeps back up every now and again.

The Corporal’s brows knot playfully as you turn his new hand over in your lap; you’re admiring the upgraded feel, the more seamless panelling in comparison to your own. Echo watches your lashes flutter in silent thought.

Then:

“You’re a terrible liar, you know.”

You blink slowly at the hand, swallow down your sudden sheepishness and ignore his gaze. You bite back the smile digging into your cheeks. “Maybe.”

“Do I have something on my face?” he asks suddenly, and you look up.

A baited trick. He’s smiling.

The warm sort — the sort reserved for you and for Omega. The two souls that hold a piece of his heart, with all its ticking valves and electric timed pulses. There are machinisms that keep him alive, and then there is you. Your wide-eyed expression melts, giving way to the sort of smile he’s tried to memorize over and over. It’s the same smile that has warded off that reoccuring nightmare of the night on the tarmac at the Citadel, the same smile that has pulled him through the grit of phantom pains.

“What—” a sudden laugh bursts from your chest, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You were staring, mesh’la,” he rumbles out as a reminder, enjoying the fact he’s suddenly become the center of your attention. Echo leans back, his boot toeing yours. You nudge it back. Your face feels hot. You ignore his pointedly teasing look with a roll of your eyes.

The nickname started a few weeks ago. You haven’t asked what it means — no, for now it’s meaning hangs in the balance. Untouched but there. The affection the word carries makes your heart feel heavier and unbelievably full.

“Bad habit,” you chirp back, looking up at him through your lashes.

His laugh is warm.

“Maybe not.”

“No,” you say quietly; your voice is soft as your eyes bounce across his face, tracing the lines of his face with your gaze, “I don’t think it is.”

There’s a silence that slips between you — a comfortable one. It’s heavier than before. That has begun to happen recently, especially with the petal-soft utterance of mesh’la becoming more and more frequent. You hold his gaze. Echo lets out a soft, contented sigh.

Then, you remember the task at hand.

You clear your throat.

“Uh... The access panel I’m looking for,” you say slowly as your raise your finger to point to your own arm, “It’s on your bicep.”

Echo blinks. He clears his own throat before looking down — he hadn’t even noticed that access panel. That could explain the jarring miscommunication stalling the limb. This model had more bells and whistles than he initally realized.

Better than a fuckin’ scomp link, that’s for sure.

Wordlessly, Echo makes room on his bunk. You move to settle beside him, your bent leg resting aginst his hip as you half-straddle the bed; your other knee brushes his thigh — and Echo tries to sit still. You’re close, now.

“Is it okay if...?” you trail off, fingers tugging on the short sleeve of his blacks; you pause until Echo offers a curt nod. You catch him swallow. You push onward, fingers nimbly rolling the fabric up over his broad bicep.

Echo steals a glance your way as your fingers pass across a slip of his bare skin.

In his lap, both his hands twitch.

He’s no small man. Lean and athletic, Echo is built like a soldier. Omega had said once that Echo was an ARC Trooper, one of the best of the best. You believed every bit of it, and you’d hung on her words when she’d rambled on about ARC training, about Kamino, and about who Echo was before you knew him. It was all in the past, though. That Echo is a part of this Echo but... They’re different men. He’s been changed by the things that have happened.

You don’t press him on the details.

In time, they’re slipped into conversation here and there — between the here and now.

In the beginning, when you’d found yourself amongst the crew of the Havoc Marauder — be it for a simple job on Cid’s behalf — Echo had hardly paid you a moment of attention, though you admit you’d been curious from the start. It had taken three jobs for you to finally see his face. Then began the slow and gradual bonding over catching joints, grating plates, and hardware updates. His legs, your arm. Two pieces of a pair.

Now, he has this. A beautiful new upgrade — something he’s wanted for a long time. A part of his old self is back, in a way.

You liked that it was more than just a tool. That, in having this piece of his body back, he felt like more than a tool. More than a scomp link.

After all, he is a man — a... a very handsome man. One whose proximity is sort of distracting you, again, from the task at hand.

“The panel here,” you say as you slowly press on the seam that enables the settings panel to be revealed; you’re mindful to explain, “It controls sensory outputs, as well as synchonized synaptic commands. The panel on my forearm does the same to my hand, yours is just... well, you’ve got the new and improve version.”

Echo ducks his head as you work, watching you from the corner of his eye. “Feeling a bit jealous, mesh’la?”

“Maybe,” you breathe out with a smile.

Then, you lift your eyes. You intended to see that he was still comfortable, but instead you come face to face with the Corporal. His nose nearly brushes yours when you lift you chin, completely dragged in by the closeness shared.

There’s a beat of tension. Echo’s mouth goes dry.

You fingers pause. You swallow hard. “How... uh, how does it feel?”

Echo tightens his grip, then releases. His breath tickles your cheeks. His eyes, a deep, warm brown, flit from your eyes to your mouth, and then back. His voice is a croak.

“...Same as before.”

You tinker with a dial, eyes never leaving his; your voice is above a whisper. “And now?”

It’s immediate. Like a rush of cold air up his arm — and on instinct, Echo’s hand twitches. His fingers grip the fabric of his blacks, along his thigh, and... he feels it. The smooth, stretch of the material. It’s... it feels like a lot. His fingertips, metallic and cyberized, tingle. It’s distracting.

He can feel.

His hand is slow. It moves across to bridge the space between you. His pointer finger settles on the curve of your knee; the feeling of your tactical pants beneath his fingertip is ignored, instead he chases the heat of your body.

Your breath catches at the touch.

Echo’s face is turned to you, but... his attention has settled on his hand. His palm then sweeps across your thigh. He follows the curve, soaks in the feeling. You’re frozen in place, beating back the desperate sound of appreciation that threatens to be pulled from your throat. The touch is... more than welcomed.

The closeness itself is making you dizzy.

Then, Echo turns — and the warm, durasteel-plated palm finds your cheek.

Your skin is hot.

“Is this okay, mesh’la?” he whispers, words riding on a quiet exhale — the sort that make you feel... well, you don’t even have words for the way he makes you feel. Echo is... kind, honest, and loyal. Above all else, he’s gentle. Despite it all, despite every bit of horror he’d been put through, he’d never lost sight of the importance of a gentle hand. Especially now in a moment as intimate as this. It coaxes you closer.

You lean into the cybernetic attachment, cheek resting in his palm. You nod, then, with eyes eager to take in every bit of this moment.

He chuckles at the enthusiasm. Echo’s thumb, deft and smooth, then traces the line of your lower lip.

The feeling is... the gnawing pain that he’s felt for nearly a year has melted. Finally, the itch has been scratched in his brain and the hollow ache of his bones is gone. It’s relief, and comfort, and excitement and all these beautiful things — and you.

You’re stuck — you don’t want to move, you won’t move. He’s rooted you completely, and when his other hand — the calloused and warm one of flesh and blood — finds it’s spot along your thigh, you swallow a lovesick sigh that would only exaserbate your desperation.

Your mouth is moving before you realize it.

“What does it mean?”

Echo’s eyes narrow, only a bit, and he runs his thumb up your cheekbone.

“What does what mean?”

“Mesh’la,” it sounds foreign on your tongue. It’s not Hutteese or Twi’leki, not like any language you know, “Will you tell me what it means, Echo?”

The corner of his lips quirk. Your eyes jump to it.

You feel like someone’s reached right into your chest and given your heart a squeeze — and it only worsens when he laughs. He laughs, deep and quiet and warm, like a thunderstorm on a summer night. It feels cruel, to string you along like this when you’re here, lips parted, hanging off his every touch and his every word.

“Beautiful,” he says quietly as his other hand touches your jaw — it’s so damn reverent, this little moment in time, that you almost don’t believe it’s real.

It feels like a dream — like someone has come in and stolen your thoughts from you; like the unrequited yearning has finally stoked a fire large enough to burn you up entirely, a fever you never knew you wanted.

His nose brushes yours.

Your fingers wind into the fabric of his chest. You’re clinging, lost to the moment — and you can’t help wonder if this is how it feels when he catches you adoring him. He’s admiring you so tenderly that you nearly break.

You want to kiss him.

He’s thought about nothing but kissing you for the last five days at least. Longer in his dreams. Nowadays, it’s a constant pull, a constant want.

And now, it’s here — a present and current moment where it can happen. Where he can stop being a shiny cadet and he can make a move...

Enter Omega.

“Echo, we’re back—!”

The telltale hammer of a girl’s boots on the floor signals that the party is back from their supply run — but you’re so far off, spinning in a different universe, you don’t even hear her until its too late... Until Echo is yanking himself away and clearing his throat and rolling his wrist to test the prosthesis in a different way, a less intimate way.

You blink, then rattle yourself back to the present. Omega is in the doorway staring with a quizzical look. Clearly, your state does little to dissuade the assumptions she’s already making and you can see the gears turning in her head. The dark-haired girl then slowly grins.

“Hi.”

You swallow. “Hi, Omega.”

“...Whatcha guys doin’?”

Echo coughs. “Uh, just fine-tuning the new upgrade.”

“...Riiiiiight.”

You rub your cheeks and laugh — clearly forced and incredibly pained — as you stand up and nearly ram your head right into the top of Echo’s bunk. It’s met with a hiss of warning from the trooper as he jumps up to try and protect you from the impact.

“Well! Uh, thanks for letting me help, Echo,” you clap, rocking back and forth on your boots, “I, uh... Oh, Cid called. I should... I should get back—”

“Yea,” he says, straining a bit to find the words, “Yea, I’ll... I’ll comm you if it starts to, uh... If it starts to act up?”

Omega watches the exchange, big brown eyes moving from left to right.

“Good, great — yea, that’s,” you inhale as you rub your thighs and move towards the door, “Perfect. Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Bye!” Omega calls, waving.

You wave back, smiling. “Bye, Omega.”

Then, once it’s only Echo and Omega in the bunk, the tween speaks.

“...What the kriff was that?”

#HE IS A CORPORAL!!!!!#let echo say fuck #and omega #echo x reader #echo imagine #arc trooper echo x reader #echo/reader #echo/you #echo x you #tcw imagine #tbb imagine #sw imagine #the bad batch imagine #THANK YOU ANON WHO SENT ME THE UPDATED SPREADS #LOVE U ANGEL

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morgansunflower · 3 years

Text

Beautiful 1/2

Bruce Wayne X Wife! Reader

Batmom! Reader

Warnings: suggestive content. Showering together.

Words:1041

Victorian Era. Batmom go's through labor with her and Bruce's first blood son.

Arthur's notes. Pic down below is from Gotham by gaslight movie. Selina & pregnant Pic is to represent reader! Hope you all enjoy!

Richard's P. O. V

"so the big blue elephant--" I stammer as Tim raised his hand "yes?" what on earth did I say wrong now?

"elephant is grey not b-w-u"

I cracked a smile. The door shut with a blanket stuffed in the bottom and top cracks to further prevent our ears from hearing our mum painfully scream. Timmy was scared out his little mind. He kept thinking about everything that could go wrong. I couldn't let his little head be thinking such horrible things. As well as I did not favor to think of losing someone I love. Especially someone like Y/N. She loves us. She takes care of us. She'll always be my mum in my heart.

"alright Mr picky, he's grey. So the big GREY elephant stomped his feet" I stomp my feet causing a smile to form on Tim's face

Jason's P. O. V

I sit within the library under the desk. I couldn't let Grayson or little Timmy see me feel so.. Broken. My legs crouched upward and face buried in between my legs. I hold my legs as I hear another scream from someone I love very much. Mum. She didn't bring me into this world but she never treated me like a scum. My biological mother died. I had tried to wake her up. My biological dad had left us first chance he got. I had shook her arm to wake her up. She wasn't breathing and she never woke up. She had been sick for weeks. I should have known, I could have done something. Though Y/N.. She wasn't into really bad shit. She takes care of me. She loves me. What if I lose Y/N to? Why does something happen to everyone I love? I began to feel my eyes shake. Don't cry!

Bruce's P. O. V

Only wearing my trousers with my red robe that had black trim. I sit behind my wife with her bare body in between my legs and her back up against my chest. Her legs bent upward. I use a dampened cloth to wipe away her sweat off her face and anywhere it was needed. Her hair braided into a bun. It was not ideal for me to be present. Though my wife knows who I am. She's knows I'd be more restless without being with her. I need to protect her. As another contraction rips through her, she bent her back with her head on my shoulder as she screamed. I drop the cloth and swiftly take her shaking hands. My wife began panting. She begins to cry, again resting her back on my chest.

"rest mistress your child's head is present breath for a moment" the midwife ordered

She turns her head to me with a tender smile. I kiss her lips gently and place the palm of my hand on her face. The amount of strength she has is remarkable.

"I don't know how much longer I can withstand this" she brokenly said breathing outward heavily. My heart shattering to hear how much agony she is in. I should be able to fix this!

"shh do not be fearful my love it is almost over with and then you may hold our child" I assured with a soft voice, though I'm truly frightened by what may happen

"it is time" the midwife said

I kiss her forehead our hands locked to each other's. She pushes screaming with crys, sending a deep sense of helpless worry to my core. I wanted to end her pain but I couldn't. Suddenly her muscles were less pained. Her grip lose and breathing eased. I see my son. My little boy. My heart swells as he cried. Y/N covers her face with her hands as she sobs. The midwife placed the infant on her chest. I kiss my son's wet head. My eyes shake as I feel so much overwhelmed joy.

"oh Bruce he's precious!" she half-laughed half-cried

I am utterly speechless. My beautiful son is here. Four precious boy's.

Y/N's P. O. V

After I rid of the afterbirth and I nursed my son. The midwife took my son to clean him. Bruce kisses my shoulder blade. He still holds me in his arms.

"it is time to clean yourself Mrs Wayne" she said

"I will tend to my wife" he told her

Bruce carrying me with my legs resting on his left arm and head on his right shoulder. He stands holding me with complete ease.

"sir I'd advise you not to let into your.." she stammered as Bruce probably glared to her or she was uncomfortable further speaking

He grunted "I am fully aware of my wife's condition and that she is desperate need of rest Ms. Once you have tended to my son let Alfred take over and he will aquire you your payment" Bruce said with a slight rude tone.

She gently nodded. Bruce steps into the bathroom that was by the bedroom. He sits me on the toilet seat and strips down to nothing. He takes my hands and helps me stand. We step into the shower and he turns the water on. He holds my hands motioning me under the shower. He gently rubbed my thighs up to my shoulders. I gently hummed in a relaxing tone. His hands like magic. I feel a sincere sense of not being as beautiful as I was. I know my husband is longing for love making as I am. Though we mustn't do such now.

"I am truly sorry Bruce I know it's been so long.. Not that I am attract--" he cuts me off with a deep kiss

I part from his lips to breath, his index finger bent under my chin. He moves his left arm across my lower hip.

"dare you not say such a thing. As soon as you are ready I will be here" he lovingly smiled to me "and I will prove to you that I still feel and always will be captivated by your beauty"

My heart melts I wrap my arms around his neck. His strong arm's wrap around me. I feel myself relaxing in his touch.

206 notes · View notes

kohanayaki · 3 years

Text

.:Time and Time Again:. (Marauders Era x Reader) Ch 3

Continuing the story of how you and Sirius became friends; as James and Remus grow closer to you, Sirius continues to treat you coldly until a late night encounter makes him question everything.

LINKS: CH 1 CH 2 CH 3 CH 4 CH 5 CH 6 CH 7 CH 8

________________________________________________________

Ch 3 .:Resistance and Reconciliation:.

~Previously~

“I'm not going to bother making friends with someone whose family is so wrapped up in blood politics they forget to be human beings first. Trust me, I've met their mother enough times to know.”

“Did you ever ask them about it?” Remus pressed.

“I don't really need to, do I? They're a (L/n). Open your eyes, Moony!”

Remus' brow furrowed, a shine in his eyes akin to sympathy as he regarded Sirius.

“Perhaps it's you that needs to clear your vision, friend.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 1974 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sirius sat on the stone ledge on the window of his dorm room, looking out towards the Black Lake. He could see the push and pull of the wind as the thin branches of the ash trees bowed gently with the rhythm. In the reflection of the glass he could see James and Peter behind him experimenting with an altered set of wizard's chess, complete with fire-breathing knights and bishops that threw daggers, while one of Remus' records spun in the background.

Despite everything he could have been thinking about at the moment, his thoughts, irritatingly enough, drifted to you. He frowned slightly as he leaned his shoulder against the window, annoyed that you occupied even a portion of his mind. He just couldn't understand you. Somehow you had turned James, who had once openly proclaimed you his sworn enemy, into something close to a friend in the span of a year. You had no qualms with pranks pulled on you, yet you were fiercely protective when they were directed at others. You were always smiling, yet your temper took no prisoners. If you weren't a Slytherin you might even be attractive.

The thought made him bolt upright. Where the hell did that come from? He almost laughed. No. Absolutely not. He was Sirius Black, he could get anyone he wanted in this bloody school, and he certainly wasn't going to busy his mind with you. What the hell was wrong with him? It's not like he noticed the way you smiled to yourself when you were reading, or the fact that the sound of your laugh got stuck in his head like a song—

No. Stop it. Get your head straight, they're evil.

Sirius exhaled deeply, rubbing his tired eyes with his hands. For some reason that thought didn't sit right in his brain, and the longer he sat with it he came to a horrifying conclusion:

Maybe Remus was right.

The only time you'd really been nasty to them was when they'd instigated it first, or whenever they had a go at Snivelus, which had become less and less frequent; Sirius suspected because of your tentative friendship with James. He'd always just assumed you were like the other Slytherins he'd come to know. There's been hearsay circulating around you, especially given your family's reputation, but you yourself hadn't really done anything to prove the rumors. Maybe you really weren't like your family at all. Maybe you were like him. . .

Suddenly, he caught movement in the corner of his eye, not from his friend's reflections but from outside the window itself. A figure emerged from the lamplight of the castle gate, making their way towards the edge of the forest. If the green lining of your school robes and (h/c) hair didn't peak his interest, the flash that he saw of your face as you shot a quick glance over your shoulder confirmed it was you.

Sirius' mind began racing as he watched you disappear into the foliage, and suddenly every thought that had given you the benefit of the doubt vanished. He'd heard the rumors about the gatherings in the forest, everyone had. He'd even caught Snape practicing dark magic there himself one of the first nights they'd used the Shrieking Shack passageway.

He jumped off his perch by the window and grabbed a sheet of parchment and a quill, drawing a rough outline of the perimeter of the forest. He labeled the Black Lake so his spell would have a going off point and pressed his wand to the still drying ink.

“Revelare Popularis,”

The enchantment was a work in progress— a technique he'd learned from a seventh year. It wasn't exact, but it was enough to tell him if anyone else was in the forest right now. His eyes darted across the paper as he scanned his makeshift map, and the color drained from his face as he saw names suddenly appear in a cluster by the lake: Mulciber, Wilkes, Avery, and Malfoy.

Was this it? Were you really one of them?

James looked up from his game as he saw Sirius grab his leather jacket off where it hung from his bedpost.

“Going somewhere?”

“(L/n) just went into the forest,” Sirius said, “I'm following them.”

“Why, Sirius?” Remus said sardonically, having had enough of his unusual grudge against you, “We're not really ones to talk when it comes to sneaking around the forest at night, now are we?”

“He's got a point,” James said, “I mean, what do you think you're going to see?”

“What do I think?” Sirius scoffed, pushing the paper into Jame's hands, “what does it look like?”

James looked down at the parchment blankly.

“What am I looking at?”

“A variation on Revelio,” Sirius explained quickly, “if you have a location in mind it shows you who's there, but only at the time the charm is cast.”

“Are you kidding me?” James' jaw nearly dropped, “You're just now showing this to us? We could have been taking advantage of this spell to dodge Filch this whole time!”

“I'm serious.”

James had to fight hard not to make a joke out of that one.

“If (L/n)'s meeting up with those guys it can't be for anything good,” Sirius continued, “and I'm gonna find out exactly why.”

Before any of the boys could get another word in, Sirius took off running down the corridor. James groaned, rebelling against the urge to slam his head into the wall.

“I've got to stop him before he does something stupid,” he said, pulling a coat on over his shoulders, “You with me, Remus?”

“Probably not the best idea,” Lupin reminded him, “the moon's full tomorrow. I won't turn, but in the direct moonlight I may get a bit. . . well, you know.”

“Right,” James sighed, running a hand through his hair in distress, “Peter?”

The boy jolted as he was addressed, his eyes quickly cast down to his twiddling fingers.

“I. . . w-well. . .”

“Fine,” James said, waving them off in annoyance, “I'll go at him alone.”

___________________________________________________

You took a grateful breath of the crisp night air, letting the wind whistle through your hair and clothes. You loved your common room, but it could feel constricting at times, especially when there were nights as beautiful as this taking place.

Your eyes drifted up to the moon, smiling at the sight of it. It was nearly full, only a sliver of white missing from the very edge of the sphere. The sight alone was enough to make you feel more at home in your own skin, an inexplicable sense of comfort washing over you. You hadn't been able to really let loose and just run in so long. You'd made doubly sure no one had followed you into the forest, but you still gave your surroundings a quick once over. You jumped as the sound of leaves crunching suddenly asserted itself behind you and you lit your wand quickly, turning to see who it was.

“. . . Black?”

“Sorry, were you expecting someone else? One of your pureblood friends, maybe?”

The confused look on your face only made his anger flare.

“Don't act coy,” he asked harshly, “just what are you playing at?”

Your back straightened in surprise, taken aback by his words.

“Excuse me?”

“I've seen you talking to my brother, Rosier, Snivelus, and all those other Slytherins. Don't think I don't know what you're doing,” the words flew out of his mouth before they had time to pass through his brain, every irrational irritation he had regarding you spewing out of him at once, “I've had to sit through it, you know. All those dinners where my parents talk blood politics with all the fanatics who think just like them. I've listened to your mother brag all about your pure blood line and how her child is 'so eager to carry on the family traditions'. So whatever you're planning by getting close to James, I'm not going to let it happen.”

You felt like you were frozen in place, staring at him as your throat tightened into knots.

“My mom?” you said, voice suddenly small, “Sirius. . . my mom passed away when I was little.”

Your words hit the Gryffindor like a truck.

“. . . what?” he asked dumbly, his brain delaying slightly in processing what you'd just said.

“She got sick. . . an experimental spell gone wrong. If you met someone with my family's name that spoke like that, it was probably my aunt. My cousin goes to Ilvermorny. That's the child she's talking about, not me. The divide between purebloods and muggleborns is even more severe in America, if you can believe it. . . ”

Sirius faltered, this new information going against everything he'd heard and thought he knew about you and your family.

“But,” he hesitated, “your father—”

“Put up the image he had to in order to keep me safe,” you said. You knew he was documented as being very open about his pureblood pride and distaste towards muggles, but it was a cover more than anything, “Since he stopped speaking with my aunt and moved us both away from the estate, she's acted as the new head of the (L/n) House, and that was years ago. . .”

You trailed off awkwardly, not feeling very self-righteous in your explanation.

“I know my family doesn't have the best reputation. . . that's probably why you hate me, huh?” you chuckled humorlessly, wincing at how harsh the words came out. But if you were honest, you were hurt that out of everyone in their group, Sirius was the one that didn't even seem to want to give you a chance. You were the one who had extended the olive branch in the first place on the condition that they ease up on Severus.

“Hate you?” Sirius echoed hollowly, feeling guilt creep up on him like a shadow, “that's. . . shit, no, that's not—”

“Everte Statum!”

You gasped as Sirius was suddenly shot backwards, his body flipping wildly through the air from the force before being slammed against the trunk of a nearby tree. His head spun, heavily disoriented as his vision shifted in shades.

You had drawn your wand on instinct, looking around for your attackers when you saw a black-clad figure lift their hood, revealing a long mane of white hair that stood out starkly in the night.

Malfoy.

“Well, looky here,” Mulciber taunted, revealing himself behind you, “we've caught the two biggest blood traitors of the last century having a touching little moment together.”

Laughter echoed from the trees, Wilkes emerging from the shadows. You took up a defensive position as their group surrounded you.

“Now, let's not be hasty, Mulciber,” Lucius said, “their father may have disgraced their house, yes, but they didn't have a choice. It's not too late for them to make the right one now.” His lips turned up into a snarl as he regarded Sirius, “get away from that blood traitor, (L/n), he'll rub off on you.”

You grit your teeth hard, preparing to cast a spell when Malfoy put his hand up in a silencing gesture, the pretentious little prat.

“Ah, you don't want to make any rash moves either, (L/n),” he said, looking to your left. You followed his gaze to see Avery coming out of the foliage, grappling with someone under his arm.

“Potter?!”

James smiled weakly as Avery held him in a choke hold, a bit of blood dripping down the side of his head.

“Hey,” he said, humor still light in his voice, “So, this didn't exactly work out as planned.” He groaned as Avery's elbow was driven into his stomach, effectively silencing him.

As soon as you tried to move towards him, Lucius had his wand pointed at you.

“Let him go and get lost, Malfoy,” you said lowly, “you've taken this far enough.”

“You've been avoiding us, (L/n),” Lucius said, ignoring you entirely, “Snape may have come up with some rubbish excuses for you earlier, but you can't keep running from this.”

“If practicing curses on first years and terrorizing other people is how you plan on using magic, then I don't want any part of your little cult,” you spat, “face it, Malfoy— you lot need me, but I don't need you.”

Lucius exhaled sharply, his genuine surprise at your resistance replaced quickly with anger.

“Think about what you're doing, (L/n),” he said, his eyes narrowing dangerously, “don't be a fool like your father.”

That did it.

With a growl you unleashed an orange bolt of energy from your wand, your Stupefy hitting Lucius square in the chest. Mulciber was quick to retaliate with a jinx of his own, which you quickly nullified with a shield charm. Shock flashed across his expression at your casual use of nonverbal magic, and he recovered one second too late.

Sirius was back on his feet, petrifying Mulciber and swatting Wilkes away like a fly with the knockback jinx before either could cast a spell at you. You and Sirius found yourselves back to back, fending off Lucius as he continued to direct a steady stream of curses in your direction. Sirius managed to create an opening for you and you turned to where James was being held.

“Evanossa!”

A flash of blue hit Avery, who shrieked in horror when he saw that the arm he was using to hold Potter had turned gelatinous, fingers drooping down like melting ice cream. James wasted no time paying him back in kind for roughing him up earlier, sending him flying into the oak tree and using the water from the Black Lake to freeze him there before joining you in the fray.

“Expelliarmus!” he called out, sending Wilke's wand spinning out of his reach and leaving only Malfoy against the three of you.

Lucius faltered for a moment as he stared down your group of three, but held fast.

“Leave it, Malfoy,” you said, “it's over.”

He growled under his breath, taking up an obvious offensive stance, but you were too quick.

“Ebublio!”

Lucius gasped as he suddenly found himself encased in a giant bubble, his knockback jinx ricocheting off the inside and hitting him in the back of the head. He pounded against the bubble in frustration but found it to be thick as Plexiglas and just as strong, unable to pop it. Suddenly, he was hoisted into the air as you raised your wand higher, directing him farther and farther away until he was hovering directly over the Black Lake.

“Let me go this instant!” he growled.

A devilish smile graced your features.

“You got it.”

“No, wait, don't you dar—AHH!!”

You turned your back on him, your breaking eye contact promptly bursting the bubble and sending him flailing into the water a few feet below.

You chuckled as you sent a few quick counter-jinxes out from your wand, restoring Mulciber's range of motion and liquefying the ice that trapped Avery.

As soon as Mulciber was unpetrified he took off running towards the Lake where Lucius was furiously treading water, tripping over his feet as he dragged Wilkes along with him. Avery limped after them, defrosted but still chilled to his bones (which you had been so kind to also restore).

“I'd fish him out quickly if I were you,” you called after them, “the giant squid is more active at night.”

“You're out of your mind, (L/n)!” Avery turned around and yelled, but with fear evident in his eyes, “You'll live to regret this, mark my words. The Headmaster—”

“Would love to know who cast the first spell, I'm sure,” you said darkly.

Avery stammered out some lame response under his breath before turning around and running after the rest of group, retreating.

Sirius turned to look at you, awestruck and chocked full of adrenaline. Maybe you really weren't so bad after all.

“That was. . .” James trailed off, grasping for the words and blurting them out as soon as he found them, “Brilliant, (Y/n). You're bloody brilliant.”

You felt your face heat up, not expecting that. You and James had stopped trading insults and threats (serious ones, anyways) and your teasing had become well meant, but neither of you had crossed the threshold of actually paying the other a compliment before.

“Thanks, Potter,” you said, unable to fight the smile on your face. You turned to Sirius briefly. “I hope this cleared some things up for us,” you said, “I'd really like to try and be friends, so. . .”

“Yeah,” Sirius said, wanting to kick himself at the way you turned him into a monosyllabic neanderthal with just a look. You gave him a small smile before turning back to James who was trying desperately to hide his limp and aching rib cage.

“Alright, let's get you to the hospital wing, Potter,” you sighed, “you look like a cheap action star in a muggle movie.”

“Uh,” James said nervously, “better we not. If I go to Madame Pomfrey three times in one day she'll never let me hear the end of it.”

“And who's fault is that?” You huffed, slinging an arm over his shoulder and helping him walk, “at least let me patch you up, then.”

Sirius followed some distance behind you, watching as you walked James back towards the castle and laughed at his occasional jokes. This one night had just turned everything upside down for Sirius. This whole time he was sure that he didn't like you because you were a blood-purist Slytherin and he was jealous that you were taking his best friend away from him; but the way you had stood up to Lucius and his goons made your position on blood politics very clear, and the tight feeling that struck Sirius' chest as he watched you cozy up with James made him reevaluate just which one of you he was jealous of.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Sirius?”

The man blinked, slowly coming back to reality. You were looking up at him in concern, your head resting lightly on his shoulder. It took an embarrassing amount of his willpower to keep from leaning forward just a few inches and kissing you.

Could you pick a worse time, you numbskull? He thought, mentally smacking himself for even thinking about it.

“Are you okay?” you asked hesitantly after he stayed silent.

“I'm alright,” he insisted, giving you a reassuring smile, “just. . . thinking about how far we've come.”

His answer surprised you, though not in a bad way.

“I suppose we have,” you smiled back, “this is a far cry from you scowling at me from across the Great Hall over your breakfast.”

“I did not scowl,” Sirius scoffed playfully, nudging you away with his shoulder.

“Right,” you grinned, “scowling, glaring, glowering, whichever you prefer.”

“I said I was sorry,” he said, putting his hands up in mock surrender, although you both knew you weren't really upset about it. You'd long since forgiven him for his initial misjudgment.

When your light laughter died down, your head found itself lulling to the side again, tiredness taking over your mind as you rested against Sirius once more. When you tilted your head up to look at him he had a surprisingly pensive look on his face. Your eyes traveled across his expression, his gray eyes almost taking on a deep shade of blue in the shadows of his room. You noticed how much younger he looked when he was smiling; it was in moments like these when it really set in how long you had known each other, because you could see the years in his eyes.

Your own flickered down to his lips in spite of yourself and Sirius' heart skipped a beat, fearing you could feel it racing in his rib cage. When had you turned him so soft? He chuckled inwardly. Long before he had fully come to terms with how he felt about you was the answer. Even when he was in Azkaban, with two of his closest friends dead and the world convinced he was at fault, even if he had to live with the fact that he would never see you again, he still thought of you, and that kept him alive, sane— himself. But now you were here in front of him, and he was terrified that at any moment you would vanish into thin air and he would find himself back in that horrible cinder block cell, face to face with a dementor as it took his last memories of you away from him.

Your hand squeezed his, almost as if you had read his thoughts— as if you were assuring him that you were real, and you weren't going anywhere. You noticed him leaning in closer, even if he didn't, possessed by some invisible force. You were nearly about to meet him halfway when you were suddenly startled apart by the sound of quick, heavy-footed steps bounding down the stairs.

You both looked at each other as if you had just awoken from some sort of trance, instinctively putting some distance between yourselves as you shifted away awkwardly.

“I. . . I should probably get to bed,” you said, your face warm.

“Right,” Sirius said, reluctantly getting up from his seat at the edge of his bed, “I've kept you up long enough, I'm sure you're tired. . .”

Before you left his room you turned over your shoulder, a small smile on your face.

“It's really good to see you again, Sirius,” you said earnestly, “we should catch up for real later.”

“Definitely,” he said, a bit of his old self reflected in that smirk of his, albeit forced.

You steeled yourself, turning the doorknob and closing the door behind you gently before you did something to ruin the friendship you had just gotten back after over a decade. You shook the thought aside, your head hurting. You really did need to sleep after today.

You were about to head into your room, but something in you didn't feel quite right. You'd definitely heard someone go down the stairs, but you hadn't heard the front door open or close. Dread pooled in your stomach at your gut feeling, and you found yourself inexplicably making your way back down the stairs.

The house was eerily silent now that its residents had either gone off to bed or disapparated until the next meeting in a few days time. You'd left Sirius upstairs, and you knew Harry was staying here for the time being until school began, but everyone else had gone home. So then why did you still feel someone else's presence so acutely?

You stared at the empty hallway leading to the front door, taking a cautious step forward; the image in front of you didn't feel real. The colors were too saturated, the edges too sharp, and the surfaces too smooth. And that's when it hit you. The smell of rain. Leather-bound books. Lavender.

You froze, staring at the seemingly empty space in front of you.

“Severus?”

The potions master didn't dare make a sound, thinly veiled behind his invisibility charm but clearly not well enough. He was standing not three feet in front of you, taking in the sight of you as if it were the last thing he would ever see.

He panicked slightly as he felt you reach out to him with your mind, shutting himself off expertly. Your hurt expression as you were unable to detect anything pained him, but he wouldn't dare think that he deserved to say anything to you. What was there to say after everything he'd done?

Your gaze roamed the empty hall, and for a moment he could have sworn you stared him right in the eyes.

You knew he was there.

The moment lasted no longer than a second before you looked away, turning to go back up the stairs. As soon as your back was facing the front door you heard it open then close gently, and the tears you had been fighting to hold back finally spilled over.

Read chapter 4 here !

Taglist: @sleep-i-ness, @blackpinkdolan, @parker-natasha, @ornella0910 @undertaker1827 @thatwierdo-koemi

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hp-imagines-07 · 3 years

Note

hey bae <33

Ok so this is a request? I dont know if you do those mainly because I just found your account since I was banned from my last one and forgot your user :(

But anyways here's a request,

Soft sirius.

Yep, that's it. Soft sirius. So maybe the reader (fem!) is pregnant with their 1st child, and they've been trying for months since they got married (no smut please :D) and he just gets so excited (also, lily and James survived and harry too. Pete didn't betray :( ( I don't know if you don't like him but please make him and Remus and Marlene (obvi) the like 'cool' aunt and uncles! This is long I know but I saw a head canon that made me think of this :) ! If you decide not to - that's totally fine. !! But you also said about needing requests ? Or sending them, so I thought ' hm why not ? ' :))

But ....

Maybe as another request (angst) the reader can have a miscarriage?( where she looses her baby because James and lily died and petunia wouldn't give harry to them) sirius doesn't go to Azkaban,they find out it's peter but not in time to save them ( separate stories of course)

alright... two blurbs in one post... requests can be magic, can't they?

Blurb 1: Happiness and Pregnancy Sickness

Sirius Black x Fem!Reader

Universe: Harry Potter; The Marauders' era

Type: just fluff and funny... Marauders being happy :,)

Summary: The thing Sirius most loves is you and your child, while the thing you most hate is pregnancy sickness.

Request: YES|no

Prompt: xxx

Warnings: pregnancy sickness?

Song: xxx

Word Count: 440 (just a little blurb)

Posted: 24th of June 2021

A/N: thank you for this beautiful request, I've been wanting to write more blurbs so just drop some more requests any time!! and I also have no idea if 'Toad in the Hole' was a thing, but as I had no idea about which dish to put in the story, I had to google about "England Typical Food" lol

MY MASTERLIST

Your eyes trailed around Sirius' gorgeous being.

Many people would look at his dark clothes, long hair, to-be-shaved beard and harsh expression, and imagine a tough man. Not that he isn't tough but, most of the time he's just a... cuttie (as you'd call it).

And seeing him playing with little Harry is just the purest sigh your brain has ever registered - until now.

It's like the world around them doesn't matter as long as Sirius keep putting blocks above one another and Harry slaps his baby hand, making it all fall as they laugh.

For a second you felt your mind drifting to the image of Sirius holding your still unborn daughter and showing your friends how she would giggle with one of the stupid things he did.

Remus, Peter and Marlene would totally blow him off by showing how the 'cool' uncles and aunt would make your daughter laugh harder, while Lily would probably be too mesmerized with her god-daughter features and James would feel really proud of his best friend for having a happy family of his own.

The little smile on your face from the pure sight and thoughts was fastly replaced by a face of disgust as you smelled the scent of Marlene's classic 'Toad in the Hole'. In less than a second, your stomach started doing flips and you felt your mouth watering.

You got up the fastest you could with a 6-months pregnant belly from Lily and James' couch and Sirius (as he had felt the smell too) ran behind you to the bathroom, leaving a confused Harry behind.

As you threw up your breakfast and Sirius held your hair while caressing your back, Lily, Marlene, James, Peter and Remus stood in front of the open door looking at the bathroom with scared and confused expressions. It took around 23 seconds for Lily to remember the talk you two had had earlier about the foods that started to make you sick.

The redheaded's face was hit with realisation as she thought about your voice saying "Especially Toad in the Hole, just the smell makes me sick..." and it didn't take a blink for her to grab the dish from Marlene's hands and throw it in the trash can outside.

"Hey-!" The blond's protests were cut short with you and Sirius walking out of the bathroom.

"I take you didn't know about the sickness..." You said with a sour voice and looked straight at Marlene while Sirius had his arm around your waist.

She raised her arms in defence. "I had no idea!" Her voice was high pitched from confusion and you all laughed.

☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾

Blurb 2: All The Bad Things

Sirius Black x Fem!Reader

Universe: Harry Potter; The Marauders era

Type: full ANGSTTTT

Summary: When all the bad things hit you and Sirius, you can only have each other.

Request: YES|no

Prompt: xxx

Warnings: TW - death, miscarriage

Song: xxx

Word Count: 419

A/N: i tried to make this really sad, not sure if it worked but it's still kinda hard for me to describe sad scenes and feelings lol

Bad things happen when you aren't expecting them. Bad things stab you in the back. Bad things try to take you down.

And bad things can make it worst.

You were never one to believe in that kind of comments, you always thought that the people who said it was just passing through a sad time and they needed help.

But you never thought you could be the one to need help and agree with this kind of concepts…

You had always been the person to support others through their hard times like you did every day after the full moon with Remus, every time Sirius would get into a conflict with his family, every time James would show only to you how he was actually sad that the girl he loved wasn't interested in him…

And that's the exact reason why Sirius had no idea how to comfort you properly as you broke down just after walking inside your home.

Seeing you kneeled on the floor, with both your hands above the belly that once had a little baby growing in there, just made Sirius weak in the knees and realising that yes, it was happening to you.

His right foot closed the door behind him and Padfoot looked at you with tears welling in his eyes.

Your desperate hands tried to get under the layers of clothing you were wearing on a cold day and your eyes shut with tears streaming non-stopping down your face. With your trembling hands finally in touch with the bare skin of the slightly swollen bump, you didn't even care about the low temperature of your fingertips, all you tried was to feel your child.

As you started to realise that your son or daughter (they didn't live long enough for you to find out, even if you felt it was a girl) had actually died, broken and hopeless sobs ripped from the back of your throat.

Sirius fell on his weak knees beside you and held you to his chest while it moved frantically up and down because of his deep sobs and thick breaths.

Yours and Sirius' hands were resting on your now-empty uterus as you cried for Regulus, the betrayal of Peter, the death of Marlene, Dorcas, Lily and James, your god-son being taken away from you, the war and your miscarriage.

Your chests hurt with the pain of so many losses. And, you felt helpless, sadness hopeless, hurt.

But you weren't alone. Sirius was right there, right beside you, to go through all the bad things.

☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾

Taglist:

@cheapglitter @Weasleysmuch @potters-heart @writtenbypics @littlemaladaptivedaydreamer @dralf0yy @buff-bork @rd155 @seppys-return-to-madness @luciferedits @old-soul-young-mind @pxtrickhxckstettxr @sleep-i-ness @marauderswhisperer @liberty01 @gweaslvy @weasleytwins-41 @siriuslysirius07 @turtlepad @ilovewinter101 @monimillion @simonsbluee @smokey102 @aberette13 @yourbloodyqueen @loverboyreid @eeshea @susceptible-but-siriusexual @Weareloserstogether @queenofthepouges @gracielou0518 @lukedetails @kiwi-sloan @wonderful-writer @666cookies @kateriinabovos @mflufflion @zzzzzcakes @mysticalmalfoy @lostaurorax @brithedemonspawn @tinylumpiaa @milkshakelol @spookybooisa @sarcasticallywitty15 @Rue-123 @inglourious-imagines @simpforelliie @cruelsummer-s @novelist2 @nottherealslimshady @kimsescapefromreality

#sirius black imagine #sirius black hc #sirius imagine #sirius black fic #sirius x reader #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black headcanon #sirius black x reader #sirius orion black #sirius black #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black one shot #sirius black angst #sirius black blurb #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius black fluff

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princesssarisa · 3 years

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Cinderella September-through-November: "Poor Cinderella" (1934 Betty Boop cartoon)

This classic '30s cartoon was not only Betty Boop's first appearance in color, but the first color cartoon Fleischer Studios ever made. It was their answer to Walt Disney's success with his three-strip Technicolor Silly Symphonies.

Because Disney had an exclusive contract with Technicolor at the time, though, the Fleischers used Cinecolor instead: a two-strip process which produced only two colors, red and blue-green. But even with this limited palette, they create a charming little fairy-tale world with what another reviewer has described as a stained glass-like quality, and with lavishly detailed, beautiful storybook backgrounds, even though most of the characters are drawn in Fleischer's usual bouncy, cartoony and slightly grotesque style. To show off the color to the fullest, even Betty/Cinderella's hair is colored red instead of its usual black. This cartoon also makes good use of the stereoptical camera, Fleischer's equivalent of Disney's multiplane camera designed to give the animation more depth: some of the aforementioned lavish backgrounds were actual, physical 3D models, rotated behind the animation cells. Cinderella's ride in her coach to the ball and her whirling with the Prince on the ballroom floor are especially striking examples of this technology.

Technical innovations aside, this is an endearing cartoon short. In no way a definitive Cinderella, but endearing. It faithfully retells the familiar tale in simple, broad strokes. (Sometimes it even simplifies it – for example, there's no Stepmother in sight, only the two Stepsisters.) Dialogue is sparing, with most of the story sung rather than spoken, and the musical style is gentle and sweet, with the waltz-time theme song, "I'm Just A Poor Cinderella" (a guaranteed ear-worm) composed in the style of an old romantic parlor ballad. But the cartoon still finds room for some irreverent jokes, modern references and classic surreal Fleischer gags. Animals and inanimate objects talk and sing here and there: even the pumpkin, just before being turned into a coach, grows a jack o'lantern face and sings about how glad he is not to be carved up for a pie. (A moment that's either charming or creepy, depending on your viewpoint.) At the ball, Cupid wallops the stuffy Prince with a mallet when he sees Betty/Cinderella, sending him sliding headfirst down the staircase to greet her, and a caricature of popular crooner Rudy Vallée appears to sing the theme song. During the slipper-fitting, one Stepsister's big toe grows a face to glare at her as she tries to cram it in. And while this Hays Code-era version of Betty is more demure and less of a sex symbol than in her notorious pre-Code cartoons, there's still a hint of the Fleischers' classic risqué humor. Her magical dress transformation has her rags slowly disappear, revealing a modest long undergarment, which promptly transforms into skimpy, lacy lingerie before the ballgown forms over it.

Rather than the more familiar Mae Questel, Betty is voiced here by Bonnie Poe, who also voices all the other female characters. She shows off her versatility well, not only providing Betty's signature New York-accented cutie-pie voice, but also the screeching of the two Stepsisters and the lovely rich alto of the elegant Fairy Godmother. The few male voices are allegedly provided by Jack Mercer, best known for voicing Popeye.

Is this one of the greatest Cinderella adaptations? No. But is it charming in its own right and a groundbreaking classic in Betty Boop's cartoon catalogue? Most definitely yes!

@ariel-seagull-wings, @superkingofpriderock

#cinderella #poor cinderella #cinderella september through november #betty boop #cartoon #animation #1934 #cartoon short #fleischer studios #fairy tale

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bump1nthen1ght · 3 years

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Waltz of the Vampire (Vampire x Reader)

Pairing: Fem!Fat!Reader/Fem!Vampire

Genre: Fantasy (Vaguely Historical/Renaissance)

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3469 words

Summary: You forcibly attend the ball of the rich family that has just moved to town, unexpectedly finding comfort with one of their daughters.

Request: Hey!! I love your writing a lot! Would you consider an elf or a vampire whatever suits your fancy with a fat fem!reader. I try hard not to hate my body but it can be really hard sometimes and I know a lot of people go through it not just plus size folks but... idk it’s my weakness and a huge comfort. Anyway I hope you have a awesome day!!!

A/N: I really loved writing this request, and after I finish Thicker than Water, I might make a part two.

Serena has been to a lot of parties. Too many, in her opinion, even over her 326-year span of life. Her matriarch, “Mother” as she is called by her and the coven, believes there is no such thing.

Every move they make is celebrated by a grand ball, invitations sent out to every available person. Mother claims it’s the best way for them to fit in, to hide in the crowd rather than the shadows.

Serena understands this, she’s seen it work wonder for their reputation time and time again, but she still does not like them.

Tonight is especially dreadful, a bad hunt the day before and a quick spat with her “brother” enough to sour the whole get together. Serena spends most of the night eluding suitors and dance partners, embracing a mysterious persona so she can enjoy some alone-time.

As she looks around at the dance floor, Serena concludes that she is not a fan of the new fashion statements of this era. A bit too strict, too formal, with precise lacings and starchy hoop skirts. It makes the dance floor too stuffy in her opinion, no room to twirl your fabric or move your limbs.

She sips on her special red wine, eye’s lazily perusing the hall for her siblings, hoping to gain some company, when she spots you. Selena is brought to a pause, mid-drink, as your embroidered skirt glimmers, catching the light as you twirl it across the room. Her eyes widen, determination peaked when she notices you don’t have a partner.

How beautiful.

----------

Oooh, I love this song.

You hum, unconsciously bouncing from side to side as your favorite piano piece begins to play. It’s a piece you have on your list to learn in the future, bubbly and cheerful with a bumpy melody and the option for a fun violin accompaniment.

The energy of the music quickly translates to the dance floor, where couple’s begin to giggle and improvise amidst the strict waltz and counted-steps. It’s a shame that it’s such a good piece because for the first time of the night, you really wish someone would ask you to dance.

When the news the MacArthur’s were throwing a huge welcoming ball had reached your household, your mother quickly began throwing together preparations for you to attend. You had sighed, set your feet in a preemptive ice bath, and ready for another boring night.

As a former socialite herself, from girlhood you were forced to attend party after party. While it had done as intended and transformed your sister into a perfect lady, it had the opposite effect on you. The stiffness of the hoop skirts, the suits, and all the damn people always stuffed up your throat and flushed your face. With your sister as the shining star, it was easy for you to slip into the shadows, and avoid the preening of your mother’s etiquette lessons.

Now, as a growing woman with more and more free-time, you used all of your abilities to avoid huge social gatherings. You found your place amongst small gatherings with local friends, sneaking wine from the cellar and telling stories in the freezing cold around a fire

But as the music increases it’s tempo, with flourishing skirts and plenty of laughter, you can’t help but lose yourself in the joviality of the gathering. The fancy dresses, the even fancier alcohol, and the decadent ballroom had you wondering if you had been missing out a bit.

If only Margaret and Min-Young were here, now that would be a party.

You giggle into your champagne, heels still tapping against the hardwood and hand slightly tossing your skirt back and forth. You easily fall back into your reclusive corner to avoid embarrassing eyes who may glance upon your solitude. But a tiny yelp escapes you when your heel accidentally digs into a foot. You whip around, faced already flushed red with embarrassment.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry! I didn’t look where...I was…”

Behind you, dressed in a dark purple satin gown, is Serena Macarthur herself. She stands a solid two heads above you, hair done up in an immaculate up do and two shimmering ruby earrings dangling from her ears. Her face is serene, lips curled up in a bit of a smirk. You quickly jerk away and give a half-decent curtsy, noticing her beautiful black dancing shoes which you just stomped on. “I apologize, Miss Macarthur, I can’t believe I acted so foolishly. I didn’t realize-”

“Oh, there is no need to worry darling. I’m alright, no harm done.” She says, her voice low and musical, almost like a thrumming bass line. Her gloved hand is placed on your shoulder, the other slides up your neck and tilts up your chin to meet her eye line.

My god, she is stunning.

Her eyes are a color you’ve never seen before, not dissimilar to the sharp gemstones in her earrings. Serena’s makeup, simple yet sharp, does everything to accentuate the cardinal-red of her irises. You can feel the simmering blush heating up your skin as she continues to stare. “I was actually coming this way to speak to you, flower. It’s my fault really, for sneaking up on you.”

You shake your hands, nearly spilling over the champagne in your glass. “Oh no, it’s no problem. Like you said, no harm done”. You force a giggle, hastily taking a sip of your champagne. “May I ask what you wished to speak of?”

Serena smiles, a smirk which is just as sharp as the rest of her, though her eyes betray no slyness or ill-will. “I was going to enquire about your dress. I noticed it from across the room and was stunned by how enchanting it is.”

“Oh! Well, thank you very much.” You blush, unconsciously rubbing your finger over the embroidered flowers on the skirt. “I actually-”

“Whoops!”

In less than a second, you find yourself right next to Serena, as a drunk dancer trips and spills his drink all over the floor. You blink, brain not even fully processing what just happened, as you notice Serena’s arm on your elbow and the red wine splattered where you stood just moments ago.

Did she move me? But when-how did she-

“Sorry! Sorry about that.” The man slurs, sheepishly scratching the back of his head. His partner, a distressed young woman, grabs his elbow and forces him to stand straight. “Guess I’ve had too much.” His embarrassed partner chokes out a laugh as he continues to sway.

“Yes, it seems you have. Make sure to fix that, soon.”

Serena’s tone is barely above talking volume, but holds a command like a powerful shout, Both of the dancers jerk with surprise, furiously bowing as the female drags the man out of the hall.

Serena sighs, rubbing her forehead with exasperation. She turns toward you, smiles back on her face.

“Would you like to take this to the garden? Seems the party is getting a bit too rowdy for good conversation.”

You nod, still a bit befuddled by Serena’s quick mood change and even quicker reflexes. But you link elbows when she holds hers up in invitation nonetheless, following her outside.

---------

The Macarthur estate is beautiful, as expected, and the garden fits that image to a T. Even in the moonlight you can see the finely cultivated roses bushes which decorate it, along with the gleaming marble fountain and sitting space under an ornately decorated gazebo. The two of your heels click along the paved path as you walk towards the center, your half-empty drink still in hand.

“You were sadly interrupted, but you were mentioning something about the dress?”

You nod, taking another long sip of your champagne, hoping a little alcohol may temper your thoughts.

“Yes, I was just going to say that I made it myself.” Serena’s eyes grow wide, eyes darting up and down your attire, and you feel yourself fluster. “It’s a tradition in my family, you see. My great-great-grandmother was very diligent when it came to teaching her kids how to sew, even the boys, and it became such an insisted upon skill that all her children ended up making their own evening clothing for special occasions. It ended up filtering down that every child makes one special outfit themselves, for what occasion it doesn’t particularly matter, but something thatt is uniquely you.” You pull up the end of your skirt, pointing out the flower pattern. “I’ve always had a fondness for gardening, so I tried to incorporate that into my dress. Plus,” You smooth out your skirt, “Most party dresses I’ve found are a bit too restrictive for my tastes, I wanted something I could really get into some fun with, y’know?” You force a giggle, immediately wondering if that comment was a bit too salacious for high-society talk. Serena simply smirks, letting out a low chuckle of her own.

“I wholeheartedly agree. May I take a closer look?” She gestures to your skirt and you hastily nod. The two of you take a seat by the fountain, Serena’s glove accidentally brushing against your calf as she picks up your skirt. You try and control your shiver from the simple contact. She hums admirably as she runs along your work. “Such incredibly done Sunflowers, the detail you put in is astounding. And these are forget-me-nots, correct?”

“Oh yes, those are my favorite kind.” Serena’s hands continue to run along the linework, following the bumps and dips of each flower petal. “As you can see I had trouble with the lavender, what with the petals being so small.” Serena shakes her head, a fond smile on her face. She looks up at you, forcing you to hastily act as if you weren’t admiring her face.

“The work you put in makes them twice as beautiful, mistakes be damned.” You blush even harder, throwing your hand and taking a final sip of your champagne.

“Thank you very much, but I have a long way to go.”

Serena’s hand hasn’t left your skirt, now resting on her lap as she continues to look at you. You swallow the last droplets of champagne down your throat, trying to fill the silence.

“The band is incredible, did you hire them locally?” You stutter, setting down your glass. Serena continues to fiddle with your skirt.

“Some of them, yes, but the violinist is actually my older sister, Marigold.”

“Wow! Make sure to give her my compliments, she’s very talented.” Serena nods, before her eyes dart down your toes. As the music echoes out of the hall and into the garden, you had unconsciously begun to tap your toes to the beat. When she glances at you, she can see your head slightly bobbing, a content look painting your face. A small smile forces one on to hers.

How cute. She internally sighs, noting how soft the skin of your cheek looks, the nice curve of your jaw, and your adorable noise. The pulsing blood which would run down your throat, the crimson looking devine against your exposed collarbone and dripping below your breast line.

She stands up abruptly, forcing those evocative thoughts out of her mind. You were quite cute and good company, someone Serena would like to get to know. Sometimes the crossed wires of her brain confused attraction for bloodlust, mistaking the butterflies for hunger pains.. She is almost embarrassed; It was one of the common hurdles new vampires had to overcome, a bridge she thought she crossed years ago

You startle, looking up at her with innocent doe eyes. Serena holds out her hand, ignoring how she can hear your steady pulse, unintentionally matching the beat of the music.

“May I have this dance, fair lady?” She almost whispers, bowing slightly.

Your face flushes, nodding without a word, and slipping your bare hand into her glove.

Serena boldly grabs your hip and presses you against her, quickly taking the lead. Your brain fervently recalls all of your formal dancing lessons, pressing your head into her chest as she takes you along.

In her arms, following her perfected steps, that slithering self-consciousness sneaks back into your brain. Your logic tries to reason with it;

You wanted to dance, but now that this beautiful woman has gladly offered her hand, you want to stop?

But your insecurities are louder, screaming about every trip and every spare touch. This close, you can feel her firm musculature through the dress, spotting the hint of her bicep as she leads you. With her dainty and elegant hand on your side, you feel twice aware of your size underneath, every imperfection concealed by your dress.

You had fallen in love with this dress when making it, but had always been hesitant to wear it. You feared that once you put it on, that beautiful picture in your mind would shatter, leaving you forlorned of what could never be. Not with you wearing it, you had thought, avoiding your own mirror as you left.

“Something on your mind, flower?”

Serena whispers into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. Your back jerks and contorts back into position, almost stepping your foot on hers. You shake your head furiously.

“Oh no! I-I just-” You stumble, trying to find an easy excuse, but are stopped when you take a look at her face.

She’s resplendent, even up close, not a hint of makeup to be seen. But across her cheeks, slightly faded from what looks like years away from the sun, are-

“My, you have such wonderful freckles.” You murmur, without a second thought.

Unbeknownst to you, if Serena could blush, she would. But the scrunched up look of embarrassment is telling, hinting that maybe this beautiful heiress has her own things she hides away.

“W-well, thank you.” She hastily utters, eyes averting from yours. It’s uncharacteristically shy and you can’t control the giggle that escapes you.

To give her some reprieve, you take your eyes off her face and trail them around the garden. They catch on the fountain, where the contrasting colors of your dresses stand out amidst the black. In the reflection, the two of you could not look more different. Serena stands a head above you, slim-fitted dark purple dress pulled across her curves, while your bright green dress cinches at the waist, flowing out like the flower's detailed skirt. It blows and beckons with every movement, brushing occasionally against your form and showing off the contours of your body.

Damn, you think, we look hot.

Just as fickle as it’s counterpoint, confidence quickly overtakes your mind, blocking out the noise of your doubt. You hold tight to your beautiful partner, in the beautiful dress that you made, and allow the happiness of this moment to exist uninterrupted, however short it may be.

The music increases its pace, the smooth line of a saxophone bringing up the energy. With a new burst of energy, you allow yourself to improvise amidst the strict waltz. You lift your weight off your heels and try to glide from step to step, like the fast-paced tango dancers your mother once took you to see. Serena matches your enthusiasm, gripping your waist, even lifting you a few inches off the ground when a particular chord strikes. Her fingers slightly tickle your ribs, an ecstatic giggle escaping you and you falter a misstep. Your mind almost stops, embarrassed by your stumble and that insecurity sneaking back in, but Serena follows your new tempo with grace, urging you along with improvisation.

Your bodies follow the music with abandon, ordered steps devolving into impassioned stamps and twists, Serena twirling you around as the violin and piano sing from afar. Your heart and mind are running on adrenaline. It’s like when you were little, letting out your energy in any way possible. Serena’s laughter is magical and for once you don’t detest your awkward snorts and chuckles.

As the music slows, the two of you near-tumble back into the fountain, taking a seat with heaving chests.

“Whew, I haven’t danced like that in a while!” You say, brushing a stray hair back behind your ear. Serena nods, patting her stomach as she continues to laugh.

“Me as well. I forgot how fun it could be, when you’re not counting your steps.”

“Oh good, you do that too. I always wondered how no one got dreadfully bored just saying 1-2-3 over and over.” You mutter, taking in a deep breath and patting her thigh. Your other hand drifts down to the fountain water, letting your fingertips brush across the top and inadvertently catching your reflection once more.

It’s not the most flattering angle, your shoulders slump and the water slightly distorted, and those intruding thoughts try to slip in once more.

Oh shut up, let us have this.

Your logic sighs, batting it away without another second thought.

As the two of you sit, your energy eventually begins to drift back down, your muscles slightly tired from that short burst of impact. You sneak a glance at Serena.

While her outfit is still immaculate, her updo shows the smallest signs of dishelevement, curly black hairs falling down above her ears. In a way, she’s more beautiful than ever.

“Me and some friends are actually getting together next week. The shepherd's daughter, Violet, is getting married and they are throwing a little shindig at the barn to celebrate. Do you want to come?”

Serena looks up at you, slightly surprised, face furrowed with that hidden bashfulness. But she nods nonetheless, shooting you a bright smile.

Still high off your dance, you just barely miss her large fangs, which glimmer under the moonlight.

You smile back, only startled when the large bell tower from the center of town chimes. Your head looks towards it’s large face and back towards the moon position. You’d guess it was midnight. Seems the two of you had lost track of time while dancing.

“Well, I should probably be going.” You say, standing up and brushing off your skirt. “I do have some gardening to attend to in the morning, going to need a solid amount of sleep. But,” You say, eyes demure and locked on your toes as Serena stands up, “I had a lot of fun tonight. More than usual, I would say.” You giggle, twirling a strand of your hair. Serena hmms in agreement.

“Me as well, flower. Your company has been the highlight of my night.”

In a bold move, Serena grabs your hand and lays a kiss on the back of it. Her eyes radiate that power and certainty from before, crimson irises shining in the night. Your blush crawls its way back up your neck.

“I-I can say the same.”

The two of you stay in that position for a moment, Serena pulling away her lips but keeping a lingering hold on your hand. Your heart thrums in your chest, while hers is deathly silent. Neither of you wants to be the first to pull away.

“I-uhm.” You stumble, hand still locked in place.

Now’s as good a time as any. You suppose.

In a quick movement, your hand loosens from Serena’s grasp and you give a quick peck on her cheek. In another, you have pulled away, sprinting towards your carriage.

“I-I’ll see you Saturday!” You shout, nearly tripping over a rose bush.

Left behind in the garden stands Serena, cold hand pressed against the burning skin of her cheek. Your kiss shot through her body like a lightning strike, almost jolting her frozen-heart alight.

That night, Serena goes for a hunt. She barely takes the time to change out of her formal clothes, nearly tearing the delicate lacework of her dress. Her claws catch on her gloves and almost rip apart, her heels scuffing the floor as she kicks them off and to the side. Her undead body is thrumming with life, untapped energy that longs to get out.

Her thoughts run a mile a minute, forcibly distracted by the Grizzly bear she currently has in a choke hold. It puts up a good fight, but Serena is running off of pure bloodlust.

At least, she thinks it’s bloodlust. A deeper part of her knows it's something else; The sparking fire of something new and a little bit frightening.

The last time she was personally invited to a ball, an event, a ceremony was less than a couple months ago. When you hold a position such as hers, look like her, they are common occurrences.

But to a party? Not a politically motivated meetup, but a genuine, let your hair down, party? Well, she hadn’t been to one since she was a youngling of 150.

And for the first time in a while, she is excited.

#reader insert #monster romance #female reader #monster x reader #vampire x reader #my writing #vampire

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angstymarauder · 3 years

Text

Arch Enemies {M.M}

Marlene McKinnon x Female!reader ; marauders era

summary: where two long-time rivals realize how thin the line between love and hate really are after an unfortunate quidditch incident.

word count: 3.4k ish

contains: angst, fluff, a heated kiss?, side of wolfstar,

a/n: i didn’t re-read it bc I'm lazy. Also if people could drop some wlw angsty harry potter recs that would be phenomenal.

· · · ∞ · · · · · · ∞ · · · · · · ∞ · · · · · · ∞ · · ·

Marlene McKinnon has been your rival since as far back in your Hogwarts years as you can remember. Always at each other’s heads. Always a competition between the two of you. Always striving to be better than the other.

The two of you made just about everything a competition. Chess Matches. Pranking. Grades. Eating. Walking. Detentions (you almost got kicked out of Hogwarts that year.)

Anything that could somehow be made competitive, you two competed. And while you tended to beat her with grades, she often beat you in things that took place outside of the classroom.

The Marauders, apparently, have been placing bets and keeping track of your wins against one another. Lily even claims that one time she walked into their room unexpectedly and caught them writing on a poster on their wall that had both your names in big letters on each side and a series of tallies below each with dates and event names on the bottom, but as soon as they saw her one of them casted a spell to make it disappear.

This year was no different. You knew it was stupid to believe that maybe, just maybe, you’d be able to try out for the quidditch team without Marlene fighting you for the same spot. You have no real desire to be on the quidditch team, quite honestly, but your older siblings play quidditch, your parents played quidditch, your aunts, your uncles, your cousins, your grandparents, your great-grandparents.

You have a quidditch family and you do not want to can not disappoint them.

The hope that Marlene may leave you alone for this one was shattered, as you expected it to be, when you walk into the team's locker room, a bag of quidditch gear in your hand. “Y/L” Marlene spoke as soon as her eyes met yours. Her eyes widened more than usual, a change most people don’t notice, but then again, you’re not most people. You know Marlene better than anyone else, you’ve memorized the meaning of every look in her eyes, every curve of her lips, every flick of her hands. You know her brain, how she works, what she is thinking, for the most part at least because right now you found yourself momentarily confused by the surprise lacing her voice. Why is she so surprised? Did she not expect you to be there? Your thoughts are cut short when the blonde standing at the other side of the room clears her throat in an attempt to reactive her favorite tone of voice when speaking to you, cockiness, “you going for the beater position too?”

“Yea,” you respond, walking over to one of the lockers.

“May the best player win,” you continued unpacking your bag, putting on the final touches to your uniform, but you didn’t need to look at her to know that she was smirking as she spoke, you could hear it clear enough in her voice.

She awaited a snarky response from you, you know that, but you didn’t want to waste your energy on a catfight right now. Your anxiety is already through the roof, there is enough pressure on you at the moment that you feel like your brain physically cannot handle any more conflict, so you ignore her.

Her eyes burn holes into your body as you continue to pull your knee pads on. Eventually, the door opens and you listen to her steps as she walks out of the locker room, closing the door with a slam and leaving you all alone.

It’s not long before you’re 100% ready for tryouts. You stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror for a moment before leaving. Taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm your nerves. Calm your mind. It helps a little bit, but maybe not enough.

· · · ∞ · · ·

“Y/L! Watch out!” is the last thing you hear before everything goes black.

The tryouts were going great, James was the captain this year and after stealing a glance at his little sheet, you could tell that you were going to beat Marlene out for this spot.

You should’ve been happier with that knowledge than you were, but somewhere deep down you almost wanted Marlene to beat you. This wasn't what you wanted and by the look in her eyes, you knew that this was what she wanted. A strange feeling arose in your chest each time she looked at you during tryouts, her eyes conveyed a message you hadn’t seen her wear yet and all you wanted to do was decode it. To understand why her eyes looked… sad? Almost. Like she knew you were going to beat her and she was upset about it. She’s never been upset before, always a team player. She took her losses as they came and just vowed to beat you next time. But for some reason… for some reason this was different.

· · · ∞ · · ·

Marlene’s Pov:

You looked so pretty. Flyaway hairs and a look of determination on your face as you swatted away Bludgers so effortlessly. She loved quidditch, but she wasn't as good as you. Jealous, not because you’ll win whatever competition the two of you are probably making out of this, but jealous because she knows she won’t get the position she’s been working her ass off for. Lost in thought she doesn't even notice the bludger coming towards her, luckily she hits it just in time, but then… Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Marlene watched as the bludger tumbled straight towards you, “Y/L! Watch out,” was all she could get in before it hit you right in the head.

· · · ∞ · · ·

The first thing you felt when you woke up was an intense pounding in your skill that caused an unconscious groan to leave your mouth. As you increasingly became aware your head began hurting more and more. You went to bring your hand up to rub your eyes in an attempt to wake yourself up when you felt another hand on yours. Opening your eyes only increased your headache, but the desire to know whose hand was holding yours overruled the pain. Their hand was soft, warm, it felt like … like home. That's the only word you could find in this pain-forsaken state to properly describe the feeling.

The blur of a person who held your hand made you think you were crazy. You found yourself blinking a few times in attempts to clear your vision, not initially trusting your eyes and barely trusting them now as you see Marlene McKinnon's hand, holding yours.

Marlene McKinnon.

Your arch-nemesis?

The one who practically hates you?

Yea… her.

What the fuck.

Why is she holding your hand… and why do you never want her to let go?

You can feel your lips curve up into an unconscious smile as you stare at the place where her hand connects with yours before roaming your eyes up to her figure to her sleeping face being held up by her other hand, elbow resting on her armchair next to your bed. She looks so peaceful, so beautiful, and you wonder why you’ve never noticed how gorgeous she was before. How her lips look so soft and her skin so smooth. The way the waning gibbous moonlight shines into the room from the large infirmary windows and lights her face up in a way you’ve never seen in before and in that moment you want nothing more than to stare at her face like that forever. You don’t even notice your other hand moving up to touch her face until you hear a voice whisper from a few beds over from yours. “Oh, you’re up.” Startled, you feel like you were just caught committing a crime and immediately pull your hand back to where it was before. Marlene shifts in her sleep from your quick movements and you’re watching this moment slip through your fingers, silently begging whatever runs the universe to let you stay in this moment just a little bit longer. Thankfully, they answer and Marlene stills, returning to her peaceful sleep. “Don’t worry, Lils says she sleeps like a log.”

You giggle at these words, turning to face Remus with a smile, “yea, she does. We can never get her up in the morning.” “It’s the same with Sirius. He never wants to wake up.” The two of you giggle quietly, afraid to wake up anyone in the castle this late at night, especially the girl sitting beside you. You talk about Remus first, asking if the full moon the night before was really that bad that Pomfrey made him stay overnight again and if he's okay. He assures you that he is fine and redirects the conversation to you, “What about you? Are you okay?”

“I don’t even know what happened to me,” you tell him, “or why my head hurts so much or why M-” you pause, now looking at the girl. You’re scared of speaking the words out loud, afraid it may reveal that her presence is only a dream or a figment of your imagination and that you will sound crazy if you speak about it.

“Or why Marlene is here, holding your hand.” Remus finishes your sentence.

“Or that.” you turn your gaze back to Remus, now wishing the moon was a little darker so your close friend can’t see the blush that is surely on your face.

“Well to answer your first questions,” started Remus, “You got hit with a bludger during tryouts, Marlene and Sirius rushed u in here while I was taking a nap - thanks for that by the way”

“Sorry” you giggled

“- and then Sirius went back to practice, as for McKinnon there, she refused to leave. I think she feels bad cause she's the one that hit you. Pomfrey said you probably have a concussion which means you can’t … well you can’t play quidditch this year.” You should be focusing on the quidditch part, it was something you were working so hard for, but you can’t stop your mind from trailing off to her. Is she only here because she feels bad? Or is there more to it? You hope it's more. You’re not sure when these feelings came to fruition, but they’re there now and you’re worried about getting your hopes up because it means risking yourself getting let down.

“I think she likes you,” you take a minute to process the werewolves' words, glancing between the blonde’s head and her hand.

“You think so?” you say with a hopeful smile.

“I think she’s liked you since first year and you’re just too oblivious to realize it,” you look up with him, your confused face causing a slight chuckle to leave his lips, “I’m observant, you know that but it's not that difficult to see how in love you two are, even though you act like you hate each other. I think she knows what she feels,” you both glanced at the girl, “and I think you just figured out what you feel.”

You smile at his words. “I think you’re right,” you admit, too tired to be stubborn and reject what your heart says is a fact.

“Just wait till January to tell everyone please, I have a bet going with the boys and- “ Suddenly the door to the infirmary opens, Remus goes quiet with confusion and Marlen begins to stir from the noise. She’s really waking up this time, you immediately close your eyes, unsure of what else to do or even say to her. You can feel her eyes on your face, her hand holding yours. “Good morning sleepyhead,” remarked Remus. You curse out his name in your head as you feel Marlene’s hand immediately rip out of yours. All you want to do is look at her face, read her mind. Was she embarrassed? Ashamed? Your mind went to the worst.

“How’s the girlfriend?” marked a new voice, Sirius. Of course. Who else would come to the infirmary this late other than Sirius to check up on Remus?

“She’s not my girlfriend.” remarked Marlene, her tone sending a brief stab of pain through your own heart, “I don’t even like her,” another stab.

“Yea, okay, and Moonys not my werewolf boyfriend.” You would’ve laughed, hearing the noises of Remus hitting Sirius in response to his words, but your mind was stuck on the words of the girl who was still standing close enough for you to feel the heat radiating off her body.

“I don’t like her,” she said, her words laced with annoyance and anger, “In fact, I hate her. We’re literally enemies.”

“Then why are you here then?” Remus rebutted, he probably meant to be helpful, but the words she spoke next only made your heart ache more.

“Because I’m not a monster! I hit her with the bludger and I felt bad. That’s it. Nothing else.” you were almost thankful when you started to hear her moving around, collecting her stuff, tears were threatening to spill out of your eyes and you didn’t want her to see. “I’m tired so I’m going, goodbye.” And with that you waited, listening to the sounds of her footsteps, getting quieter with each moment. You listened to the opening and closing of the infirmary door and only dared to open your eyes again once you could no longer hear the clicking of her shoes down the hallway.

“You okay?” Remus spoke first, witnessing the silent tears now streaming down your face. You wish you stayed asleep. You wish you never looked at her. Never let yourself feel something you knew she wouldn’t reciprocate. You curse yourself for believing Remus’ hopeful words.

“Fine,” you spoke quietly before turning to your side, the back facing the two boys who get to share the kind of romance you find yourself only able to dream about.

“M’Sorry,” you heard Remus whisper, before the weight of your head and your heart lulled you into a dreamless sleep.

· · · ∞ · · ·

You woke up to Madam Pomfrey's voice urging you awake. Her soft voice reminded you of your mother and made you want to curl up into her arms and cry, Marlene's words last night still resting their weight on your chest. “How are you this morning, love?” she asks, placing a plate of food on the bedside table, you're thankful that she doesn't mention the tear stains that probably made their home on your cheeks last night.

“M’fine,” you mumble, “better.”

“Good, good,” she smiles, handing you a glass of water that you didn’t realize how much you needed until the whole glass was gone in a minute and Madam Pomfrey had to fetch you a new one. “Took a big hit yesterday, that Miss McKinnon has a good arm.” You hum in agreeance, an attempt to not be rude to the elder in front of you, but hearing her name still hurts, the wound of her words still leaving scars on your heart that haven’t even begun to scab. “Speaking of the devil,” the nurse spoke, your head raising up to see Marlene's figure entering the curtain that surrounded your bed. Her hair looked so soft, messier than you usually see it, but you liked it. You couldn’t stop your eyes from travelling down her face, taking in her beauty while she was awake. Bags plagued her beautiful brown eyes, she didn't sleep much last night. Your gaze moved to her lips, the same lips that unknowingly cut scars along your heart mere hours ago. Memories from the night before that you had allowed yourself to forget for a moment returned as fast as they left, returning the heartache that accompanies them. Suddenly, you found the hem of your shirt more interesting, keeping your gaze and your hands on that. “I’ll leave you two alone,” spoke Madam Pomfrey, ignoring the tension-filled silence that laid in the air, “I’d like to keep you here for a little while longer but you should be discharged by dinner,” and with that she left the two of you alone, your breaking heart not even strong enough to look at her.

“Hey,” she spoke first, breaking the silence, but not moving from her spot where she stood at the end of your bed. “Sorry I hit you with a bludger,” she tried to joke, but the tension was too thick that it was just awkward.

“Why are you here?” you ask, a sudden surge of bravery coming from the anger that stems from your sadness.

“Wh-What?”

“Why are you here?” “Because I feel bad? Because I'm not a total bitch and I care about you?” she remarks.

“Why do you care?” your voice grows louder, angrier than you want it, but you’re too stubborn to stop speaking now. “I can’t play anymore, you got the spot on the team, didn’t you? “I mean you said it yourself we’re enemies, right? You hate me?” you continue, repeating her words from last night. “So isn’t this what you wanted? You won. You beat me. Congratulations.”

“So you were eavesdropping?” she asks, her tone attempting to stay angry, but her eyes revealing that look you’re slowly seeing more and more often.

“It’s not eavesdropping if I’m lying right there.”

“Merlin, y/n, I don’t hate you!”

“Liar.”

“You’re so stubborn,” she yells, getting closer to your face.

“If you don’t hate me then why would you say it?” You sat up, both your voices were raising, anger surging through the air.

“Because I don’t hate you! I love you,” she yelled, and then everything went quiet. She loves me? Only now did you realize how close your faces were. Her lips were inches from yours, your ragged breaths intermingled with one another, both of you already exhausted from your previous argument. You looked up from her lips to her eyes, just to find them already staring into yours.

“You what?” you whispered so low that only she could hear it.

“ I-” her eyes were filled with fear. Fear that her feelings won’t be reciprocated. Fear to express the vulnerable emotion that has plagued her heart for how long? You don’t know. So you move forward and capture her lips in yours.

After the initial surprise, Marlene began to kiss you back, her hands finding the back of your neck and your head while yours found her hips. You broke apart too soon for your liking and she rested her forehead on yours. One of your hands moved to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear before speaking. “I love you too.” You watched as her eyes lit up with joy and you couldn’t help but smile. “I get a point on the leaderboard for admitting it first,” she chuckled.

“Mmhm,” you hummed in agreeance leaning forward again so your lips brushed against hers as you spoke, “but I get one for kissing you first.”

“Dammit,” she whispered, before leaning in for another kiss.

· · · ∞ · · ·

“So Gryffindor Beater, huh?” you asked Marlene. The two of you laid together in the infirmary bed, her back pressed up against half of your chest, your arm hanging around her shoulder twirling and untwirling her hair with your one hand while both her hands played with the fingers of your other.

“Yea, James said it’s mine if I want it, but I don’t need to take it if you don’t want me to.”

“No, merlin no,” you said quickly, “I know how much you want that spot, I barely even wanted it. Was only doing it because with my family I felt like I had to.”

“Really?” She looked up at you hopefully, “you don't mind.”

“Nope.” “Promise?”

“Promise.” She gave her a peck on the lips before turning her head around again. “Plus, you’re going to look so hot in that uniform, I feel like I’ll be the real winner in this situation.” Your words earn a loud laugh from the girl in your arms and you feel like you're on cloud 9. You place a quick kiss on her temple and want nothing more than to be the one to make her laugh for the rest of your lives. Lives that you hopefully get to spend together.

Meanwhile…

“Told you so,” he whispered.

“I should’ve kept my mouth shut,” the second boy groaned, placing coins into the other boy's outstretched hand.

“Yea, but look how cute they are, Moony the Matchmaker.”

“Oh shut up Padfoot,” he groaned, “I’m hungry, let's go to dinner.” “Whatever you say handsome,” barked the boy before looping arms with his lover and walking away from the two girls in the infirmary who looked utterly and completely infatuated with one another.

81 notes · View notes

stormblessed95 · 3 years

Note

Okay, hard questions coming in. Ready yourself lol.

1) Favorite Twitter pic of Yoongi?

2) Favorite photoshoot look for Yoongi?

3) Favorite song of Yoongi's?

4) Favorite lyrics of all time in a BTS song?

5) Favorite hair color on Yoongi?

6) Favorite hairstyle on Yoongi?

7) Favorite award show look of BTS?

8) Glasses or no glasses (I love the round glasses!)

9) Beanie or bucket hat?

10) Favorite look of Yoongi (any year please!)

11) Favorite RUN episode?

12) Favorite look of RM? Hair color? Hairstyle?

13) Favorite look of Jin? Hair color? Hairstyle?

14) Favorite look of Hobi? Hair color (I loved him with red hair! He was beautiful!)? Hairstyle?

15) Favorite memes of all the boys (the new Tae one keeps popping up and it keeps making me wheeze)?

16) Favorite photoshoot concept of the boys?

17) Favorite documentary of the boys?

18) Favorite trait that Yoongi has?

19) Favorite BTS pic?

20) Cutest picture of the maknae line, in your opinion?

I just realized how long this is and I need to stop before I overload you lol. Good luck! Love your blog btw!

I was expecting some deep analysis type questions but this is almost WORSE. I'm horribly indecisive, why do you think I'm double biased?! Oh boy. Here we go!

1. Favorite Yoongi selca?

2. Favorite photoshoot look for Yoongi?

These ones. WHO GAVE HIM THE RIGHT?! IM FINE ITS OKAY

3. Favorite Yoongi song?

I can't choose and you can't make me! Its either Intro: Nevermind, Daechwita, What Do You Think?, Give it to Me or Moonlight. I love everything he touches though, let's be real

4. Favorite BTS lyrics?

I can't really pick favorites because I love so much of them. But I really do love the lyrics from Answer: Love myself:

When even the scars made by your own mistakes mark your constellations

I also really love the "and you're gonna be happy" and essentially the entire song from 00:00 I will probably end up with both of those tattooed at some point. They have such incredible lyricism.

5. Favorite Hair color on Yoongi?

Black or Blonde. Yes. I die over the mint every time, but the black and blonde hit DIFFERENT. His hair during Butter, the black with silver hues, SUPERB

6. Favorite Hairstyle on Yoongi?

Daechwita black hair undercut. Literally kill me now. The long blonde hair ponytail was my next bet. Basically this music video is really just top notch for me. I watch it often. Lol

7. Favorite Award Show look of BTS?

All of THIS. Minimoni especially!

8. Glasses or no glasses?

I love them either way but the way they ALL pull off any type of frames is amazing. Glasses for me!

9. Beanie or bucket hat?

Beanie. They look incredible in both but the bucket hats hide their faces more. Lemme see your beautiful eyes please!

10. Favorite look of Yoongi?

I'm assuming you aren't going to want me to continue to answer In The Soop for these favorite look questions i see farther down the list.... but I can't help it! They were GLOWING

11. Favorite RUN episode?

Again, you can't make me pick jusy 1. Sorry not sorry.

Episodes 33/34 where they jumped into photo frames and failed lol

Episodes 75/76 where they made directed their own short movie

Episodes 84/85 were hysterical

Episodes 97/98 they were all so cuddly and giggly it was so cute

Episode 109 with the voice dubbing

Episodes 131/132 debating with the water canons at the pool lmfao amazing

And the collaboration episodes with PD-Na were incredible and amazing

So that was a lot. Sorry. But I narrowed it down from simply saying ALL OF THEM by alot. You're welcome!

12. Favorite look of RM?

IN THE SOOP!!!! But if I had to pick something different, honestly him during the Butter era interviews with the dual toned blond/brown hair. It's WORKING for him and I'm having such a hard time taking my eyes off him lately. OR the Dynamite era. The way he KILLED that look. Could barely handle it

13. Favorite look of Jin?

IN THE SOOP!!! Lmao sorry, but otherwise PURPLE HAIR JIN SUPREMACY. And also his blonde hair now, chef's kiss! (I tend to be partial to dark hair BTS for the most part, probably plays a part in why in the soop looks are my favs)

14. Favorite look of Hobi?

You should all be expecting this.... IN THE SOOP! Lol but again, otherwise I'd have to go with the classic Dior Hobi. I love dark hair Hobi the most too. The blonde right now though is really working for him 😳

15. Favorite memes of the boys?

I don't really save memes on my phone too much. But they crack me up whenever I see them! Lol the Daechwita Tae is REALLY making the rounds right now 🤣 I love it so much

16. Favorite photoshoot concept of the boys?

YNWA Era concept with all the confetti

17. Favorite documentary?

Probably Break the Silence: the Docu Series and Break the Silence: the movie Persona

18. Favorite trait Yoongi has?

Physical? Probably the way he smiles in degrees until he just can't hold it back anymore and the way he sometimes smirks with half his mouth instead.

Personality? The way he is quietly there as a major support system for all the guys and his endless amounts of patience.

19. Favorite BTS picture?

This is mean. ALL OF THEM.

Maybe this one? Just them genuinely enjoying each other's company and taking a photo together because they want to 🥺

20. Cutest Maknae line photo IMO?

ALL OF THEM. But I'm definitely partial to the puppy pile cuddles

Thanks for all the questions! This was fun!

#anon #ask #20 questions #my personal favorites

33 notes · View notes

emf005 · 3 years

Text

Like Me For Me Part I

Marauders Era

Sirius x Reader

Warnings- Talk of abuse, mentions of death

Part 1 out of 3

“Come on, Y/N/N,” your friend pleaded. “You know you want to go.” You thought about it for a moment as you five walked down the hall.

“No. No, I really don’t think I want to. Not in the slightest.” She huffed and folded her arms across her chest. Marleen was one of the prettiest and most popular girls in your grade. You were the opposite of her. Her and the rest of your friends actually.

It wasn’t that you weren’t pretty. You were actually drop dead gorgeous. You liked that, actually. That you were pretty. But you also hated it. You hated that you were pretty and fashionable with every fiber of your being.

Your friends knew you were fashionable and beautiful, and they often urged you to show it like you helped them do. Be popular like them and not just ‘that one girl… oh what's her name?’ But you liked being her. Big glasses, that were faker than fake, oversized sweaters that hung off your body and leggings and sweatpants and jeans that barely even touched your legs they were so baggy. If you weren’t in your school uniform that's what you were in. And your hair.. Well… that was always just naturally a mess. You normally just threw it up into a messy bun or ponytail.

“Come on, Y/N. The winter ball this year is supposed to be the grandest there has ever been! You already promised to help us get ready. Why won’t you just go?” Cora asked. She was a Hufflepuff in your year. Yet again, very pretty and very popular.

“Because I don’t want to. You all have handsome dates who are beyond thrilled to go with you and I have my studying in the library.”

“Which will be closed!” Darla squeaked. She was a small rounder Ravenclaw with deep black hair. But still considered one of the prettiest girls in school. She was going with Peter Pettigrew to the dance. And you couldn’t have thanked god enough. That's all she talked about was that boy.

“Thank you, captain obvious,” you hummed and flourished your robes dramatically to leave and head to the black lake for Care of Magical Creatures. “Good afternoon everyone. I’ll see you all at dinner. Perhaps.” You added at the end, sounding mysterious. You may or may not read far to many mysteries in your spare time.

Your friends rolled their eyes and left you to go down on your own. As you headed down you saw your other close, very beautiful, friend Lily Evans.

“Lily!” She turned and waved at you. You jogged down the hill and skidded to a halt before you tripped over a rock. “What's up?” You asked, not even close to out of breath despite the distance you had just run.

“Nothing. You?”

“Oh, just headed down to C.O.M.C.”

“No one is going to start calling it that,” she hummed as you two continued down.

“I know. And I don't really care, either. It just gets tiring saying that entire phrase all the time. C.O.M.C. is much easier in my opinion, thank you very much.” You said with a nod. She rolled her eyes.

“Whatever you say. Are you coming to the Christmas dance?”

“Absolutely not. I’m still helping you with hair and make up though, right?”

“You’re letting her help you with your makeup and hair, Evans?” Narcissa Black scoffed. You looked down at your shoes and frowned. So you may dress down to take attention away from yourself. What you didn't realize was that that would call attention to other things. Girls would then call you ugly and unstylish, which was the biggest insult of them all. But at least men weren’t prancing on you, right?

“Oh shove off, Narcissa.” A voice called from a ways down the path. You looked up and saw Sirius, James, and Remus looking over their shoulders at the three of you. “Like you have much more style.”

Was that supposed to be a double edged sword? Was that supposed to stab both Narcissa and I?

You couldn't help but wonder.

Sirius Black. The boy you have had a crush on for the longest time. I mean, who hasn’t. Marleen often told you to go try your luck, but you wouldn’t dare. You were far too cautious for that. Love and dating was a matter you took very seriously. You weren’t just going to date because you wanted to. You wanted it to be a mutual liking of each other. Well, a bit more of a mutual liking.

And while you had a crush on that boy, he had a reputation of just dating to date. Or one night stands or one week stands. Even just leaving the girls crushed and throwing themselves at him long after they had broken up. But you didn't like him because he was popular, like them. Or that he was gorgeous (Because he certainly was). No. You liked him because of his personality. Which, with teen hormones, wasn’t something that often happened.

Narcissa sneered at her cousin but made no further comment and just stormed away. You turned your attention to the ground again and scurried off towards the class. You weren't shy. You normally would greet the boys even though none of you really talked. Except you and Remus. You two were quite close. But Sirius’ comment stung a bit and you really couldn't face them. Lily and the boys watched you go and she sighed with a shake of her head.

The boys watched in confusion. Well, James and Sirius did. Remus knew what had happened, he had actually been the first to figure out your crush on him, even before you had figured it out yourself. He knew that you were quite fashionable and took pride in your work of your friends’ appearances when they asked you to do their makeup or their hair. Or even help pick out a perfect outfit that was both stylish and practical for their activities for the day. And he also knew how much comments like ones both Sirius and Narcissa made hurt you.

“What was that about?” James asked as he watched you drop your bag and settle on the grass away from the class. “I mean. I know we aren’t her friends really, but she normally gives us a wave or something.”

“Aren’t you her friend, Rem?” Sirius asked, slinging his bag further on his shoulder as they headed down to the lake.

“Yeah.”

“Is she mad at you?”

“No.”

“Then what was that about?”

“Missing the attention?” Lily teased. She had Remus had suspicions that Sirius actually liked you back, but had never mentioned it to more than each other.

“Ha!” he scoffed. “I have all the attention of the entire school, Evans. Why would I miss one from.. What?” She and Remus were looking at him the exact same way. “What's with the looks? Why is it coming from the both of you? James, help, I’m scared.” James laughed. Lily rolled her eyes and walked past.

“Your boyfriend can’t save you from everything Sirius. Least of all me.” She called over her shoulder and headed to sit by you. You had pulled out your sketchbook and were doodling.

“Am I the only one lost?”

“No.” James responded, making googly eyes at Lily. Both Remus and Sirius rolled their eyes at that.

“Who can tell me about Nifflers?” Your professor asked. Your hand shot up, Lily’s followed a moment later. You two rivaled in everything school related. (a healthy, playful rivalry. It was one of the reasons you two were friends.) Though, you were often a bit better at Care of Magical Creatures and she was often better at Potions.

“Miss. Y/L/N.”

“Nifflers are attracted to shiny objects, which make them wonderful for locating treasure, but that also means that they can wreak havoc if kept (or set loose) indoors. Nifflers in general are usually harmless. They are native to Britain and live in burrows as deep as twenty feet below ground, the females can produce six to eight young in a single litter. Nifflers have a pouch on their bellies which holds far more than at first seemed possible, like the effects of an Undetectable Extension Charm on a container. Nifflers were gentle by nature and can even be affectionate towards their owners. However, they could destroy belongings looking for sparkly objects, and for that reason it is inadvisable to keep them as a house pet. It is also implied that they could turn vicious if provoked.”

“Very good, Miss. Y/L/N. Ten points to Gryffindor.” You smiled at the praise, needing a boost today.

“Try Miss. Know-it-all.” You heard someone grumble from beside you. No one else, including Lily, heard. But being mocked like that was still better than the so-called “praise” you would get if you let your beauty show through.

You tucked your knees closer to your chest, unknowing of the eyes on you from the other side of the area. They were not mocking or angry or anything even close. They were actually close to admiration, if not that.

You sat by Marleen and Lily in the Great Hall eating dinner. Classes had finally ended, which meant no more classes. Only Homework. But yours was nearly done. You had gotten the majority of it done during Divinations. You “did not possess the gift” so she wouldn’t really assign Homework. And were you complaining? Hell no.

“You should really come, Y/N. Please! It will be so much fun! We would all have dates and we could all dance the night away in the arms of our dashing men,” she said dramatically. You rolled your eyes and shoved another fork full of food into your mouth.

“I don’t have a date yet,” Lily said.

“Didn’t James ask you and you said you’d think about it?” She didn’t say anything. The poor boy had finally grown up enough to win some of Lily's approval. If she would just say yes!

“Oh, just say yes to the poor boy, Lily! He looks like a wounded puppy every time you reject him. Especially this year! Just go as friends or something.”

“Only if you go.” You rolled your eyes and shoveled another fork full into your mouth.

“Firstly, no one would want to go with me. Second off, everyone already has a date.”

“Sirius doesn’t.” she hummed and you started to choke on your food, making her and Marleen laugh. The table looked over at the three of you, including the Marauders.

“NOT-Cough cough cough cough- funny!” You wheezed out.

“I’m being serious, no pun intended.”

“Lily, you heard what he said today during COMC. Think! No one wants to go out with me.”

“Oh come on, why would-”

“Mar, I swear to god, if you finish that sentence,” you stood up dramatically, “I will shove a fork down your throat and open up your voice box, got it?” She just stared at you with wide eyes and nodded. “Good. Good night ladies. I have work to do.” You left the table and headed to your dorm.

“So, who are you asking, Pads?” James asked, tossing the snitch he had nicked from the broom shed in the air.

“Probably just float around and dance with everyone. Everyone already has a date.” He shrugged and took another bite of his sandwich. Remus then got a terrible idea.

“Why not ask Y/N?”

“Huh? Why?”

“She doesn’t have a date yet either.”

“That's shocking,” they heard someone mutter from down the table. They glared in that general direction.

“Nah. More fun to just float around.”

“Come on, Sirius. It could be fun. She seems alright.”

“Not my type.”

“You have a type? I thought your ‘type’ was female?” Remus asked. Sirius threw a bread roll at him.

“Yes. And she is not it. Smart is not exactly my idea of a fun night. If you know what I mean.” The three boys rolled their eyes at Sirius.

“She’s not like that, Sirius.” Remus defended you. “Come on. You might have fun. And it's not even like-” they heard coughing from down the table and looked down to see you choking on your food. Remus face palmed. He was trying to get you a date with your crush and here you were choking elegantly on your food.

Remus looked away from you and back at his friend, about to try and convince him again when he noticed something strange. Sirius had his cup raised to his lips, hiding his mouth, but he could still see the corners upturned and a fond look in his eyes.

The damn dog does like her! He thought.

“Come on Sirius. For me? She’s my friend and I want her to relax for a night.” Remus attempted. Sirius pulled his gaze away from you and turned to his friend and sighed dramatically.

“Fine! I’ll go ask her now. Happy?”

“Yes. But she’s leaving.” Sirius’ head whipped around just in time to see you disappear from the great hall. He grabbed his nearly finished sandwich and dashed out of the doors after you, eating as he went. He looked around once he got to the entry hall.

Where had you gone? And how had you disappeared so fast? He continued dating as he made his way up to the common room. Perhaps you had decided to turn in for the night?

In truth, Sirius didn't think he had a crush on you. He had an interest. Not a crush or an attraction. You were foreign to him. He knew Remus was right. You weren’t a stuck up know it all. And despite the crew you hung around, you didn’t act like a popular girl. You were kind, and smart, and the few jokes he had heard you cracking were genuinely funny that he had caught himself laughing quietly to himself at a few.

He had been out with Marleen a few times, but that wasn't anything to either of them. Just a bit of fun between friends. A date here, a make out session there. All because… Why not?

He caught you as you were headed up the stairs to your dorm.

“Y/L/N!” You turned and smiled a quiet smile at him.

“Hi, Sirius.” You leaned on the banister. “What's up?”

“You don’t have a date to the dance yet, do you?”

“No but-”

“Well do you want to go with me?” You were speechless and skeptical.

“You don’t mean that.”

“Yeah I do.”

“Sirius, no. You really don’t. I bet Remus talked you into it.” His silence was enough of an answer for you. “Figured. Go with someone you want to go with, Sirius. You don’t want to damage your reputation by going with a muggle born nerd like me.” you smirked and turned to go upstairs again.

Had he just been turned down? That did not sit well with him. Not one bit. And the way you had called yourself a muggle born nerd didn’t sit well either.

“I actually do, and I won’t take no for an answer.” He saw you sigh.

“Sirius. I’m not even going.”

“But you're staying for break.”

“Well, yes…”

“So you could if you wanted to.”

“Well, yeah but-”

“So why don’t you want to?” You didn’t answer. How did you tell your crush that you didn’t want to look pretty or that you were too scared to be seen in anything other than sweats and a sweatshirt in public? “Y/N?”

“Uh… Yeah?”

“So, are we going?”

“I don’t have much of a choice in the matter, do I?”

“Not at this stage in the game.. No.” You sighed.

“I’ll meet you at the staircase by the Great Hall at eight. No earlier. Deal?”

“It's a date.”

“No. It's a compromise. Technically I’m doing James a favor and your doing Remus a favor. I’m helping your friend and I’m helping yours. Good night, Sirius.” You left the room and disappeared into your room to write to your mum and ask her for one of your dresses from home. You weren’t about to ruin Sirius’ reputation to save your own hide. What could go wrong?

Sirius had been left speechless. That was the strangest and most reluctant acceptance that had ever happened to him. He was definitely giving Remus hell for this, though this did make him a bit more curious about you, he wouldn’t lie… to himself at least.

First Chapter done!! Make sure to check back for part 2!!!

#sirius black #hard to get #sirius x reader #marauders

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angelicmichael · 3 years

Text

Willow

Michael Langdon x reader

Summary: Reader, who is a witch (not tied to the og coven) is best friends with Michael. They decide to spend Valentines day together in outpost three. Based on this post, and the 'willow' music video by Taylor Swift.

Words: 3.0k+

Warnings: mentions of rituals/covens (its vague tho), slow burn, light angst, mutual pining, gross fluff, plot heavy and VERY descriptive I'm sorry dhdhd, valentines day fic, mentions of food, friends to lovers

A/N: yall rlly liked my last Michael blurb so I made this kinda similar!! Also the idea of witch! Reader not being tied to the og coven is NOT my idea, others have done it before - I just did it cause it made sense w the music video this fic is based off of ✌🏻. This is mostly me self indulging ngl so if the fic doesnt make sense that's why haha. The v beginning is like Sojourn! Era and then the rest of the fic is somewhere between fire & reign and outpost era. this fic is rlly just me trying to say happy early mf valentines day !! 💖💖 okay bye

February 14th was always a day you dreaded; The idea and concept of a whole fucking holiday being dedicated to just love.. really put a bitter taste in your mouth. In your opinion, it was just a reason for couples to show a disgusting amount of PDA and get away with it.

However; due to a incredibly corny and cliché situation you found yourself in; you now were seeing the incoming holiday in a different light. When you thought of the holiday.. You first thought of Michael. Michael Langdon.

Meeting Michael at all was a complete accident - You met months ago in fall; on a dark cloudy night. Every detail from that evening was etched and woven into your mind as if it had just happened yesterday; and you could only hope that it would remain that way forever. After all; that was the night when you had met your favorite person. You even remembered the weather.. The bitterness of the cold wind making it seem as if it was seconds from storming.

You were part of a small coven which was meeting due to a full moon, it was a rather mundane and basic ritual you were preforming. One of which you had preformed more times you could even count on your fingers.. However; what made that ritual special is that your coven happened to be recruiting.

Full black outfits, including thin, long cloaks is what everyone wore to the occasion.. After everything was over and done with; you went to leave - the bitter coldness of the night urging you to leave rather quickly.

However; something.. almost a invisible force made you stop walking away from the crowd and made you physically stop. You slowly stopped walking; and turned around. You sharply gasped when you saw a figure directly in front of you - wearing a dark ensemble that matched yours nearly identically.

Immediately you grew weary. A sharp, nauseated feeling started to manifest inside of you.

"Were you following me"? You spoke with your voice raised, your hands which previously fell loosely at your side were starting to curl into fists.

You could feel yourself getting defensive. You quickly flicked your eyes over at the other coven members - making sure you weren't causing a scene; not wanting to draw attention to the situation until it grew necessary.

"Yes, but.. look. I just wanted to talk to you.. away from the others". The boy stated.

You bit your lip to suppress a groan. You rolled your eyes, not really caring that he could see how bothered you were.

"Fine. But c'mon, make it quick". You said, not trying to hide the irritation in your voice.

You turned around and walked a few feet away from the crowd, not looking back but merely expecting him to follow you. You were expecting he was just another newbie with dumb questions, or needed clarification on something.

You turned to talk to him, and that's when you noticed something you about him you seemed to overlook earlier - his beauty. You were completely taken aback and breath taken. Light blue eyes met your gaze as you stared blankly at him; momentarily stunned. He looked beyond ethereal; his pale cheeks flushed a light pink from the cold and his blonde hair looked as if it could be spun from gold. It was almost like he could sense how you were suddenly taken aback.. A smug smirk played on his lips; if you didn't know any better you would say he almost seemed cocky.

"There's something about you that's different from the others. I could sense it". He stated.

"How"? You stuttered.

You watched as he took a couple steps toward you and in one quick swoop, pushed the hood of his cloak fully back. He got even closer but you didn't dare move. You watched him curiously as he turned to the side, pushing his blonde locks of hair out of the way to show you something behind his ear.. Your blood instantly went cold once you saw three sixes; however you weren't scared. In fact you were really the first person that Michael met that didn't practically faint when they saw his mark. Looking back; you supposed that's why you and Michael bonded so quickly and became so close.

It didn't take long for him after that to confine in you that people either avoided him or became obsessed once they knew; both reactions ultimately stemming from fear. You were the first person to look past that and to just see him as a actual human being - not just a vessel for some fucked up prophecy to play out.

Even though Michael's beauty was undeniable to you; the relationship you two had was strictly platonic.. and in the past that was never something that bothered you. You supposed that he was tired of people throwing themselves at his feet and what he really needed more than anything was a friend - so you chose to be that for him, not daring to try and test the boundaries your relationship had.

However; the boundaries were seemingly starting to come down naturally - because your relationship wasnt entirely platonic anymore. Things between you two weren't exactly black and white as they used to be; a great example of this, was how you two were planning on spending Valentines Day together.

You and Michael agreed to spend it as friends. Neither of you had a date and spending Valentines alone when you had Michael seemed redundant.. and honestly just boring. Instead of making Valentines day an all day event; it started for you two as a 'date' at 6 pm.

In order to avoid having to confront putting a label on your.. situationship, the venue for your lavish Valentines date was at a more.. private venue. He only gave you a address and instructions, you didn't really know what exactly to expect but you knew you weren't going to his house. It was somewhere new.

It was nearly six pm, the sun had just set - leaving the sky a shade somewhere between navy blue and pure black. The air was cold on your skin as you stepped out of the car, wondering where the hell you even were.

The area you found yourself in was completely bare and void of any trees, the only object or building you saw was a giant, black, metal structure. The instructions Michael gave you had told you about this but.. seeing it in person was merely jarring, oddly unsettling. You approached it, trying to ignore the nerves and anxiety you could feel creeping in.

You couldn't help but wonder what the hell this place was and why out of all the places you two could have a 'date', it would have to be here?

As you stood in front of an elevator - stepping in, you felt very reluctant to do so. It definitely felt a bit weird that Michael wanted to meet you in such a secluded place but.. he was your best friend. He would never hurt you.. especially on valentines day.. Right?

The doors opened and you slowly stepped out, immediately taken back. You were now in a oval room, with a long hallway stretching out. You first quickly scanned your surroundings for Michael but, he wasnt here. Not in your line of vision anyway. You nearly forgot you were here for Michael at all for a second. The interior was breathtaking; resembling a old, Victorian style mansion. Even though you were still utterly confused; Michaels reasoning for choosing this venue was starting to become more clear to you.

It was the cozy, romantic vibe the 'house' seemed to radiate. The dim lighting also amplified this affect; seemingly giving everything in sight a subtle golden glow, otherwise everything remained relatively dark. You walked through the building; down hallways, looking for any sounds of life at all. Your witchy senses didn't always work on Michael, so you didn't even bother to try to use those. He was right about how you were powerful but, his powers still outshone yours unfortunately.

You finally heard something, something faint; soft music playing distantly in the background. You followed it swiftly, the music getting louder and louder until you found him - in what appeared to be the library.

The room was immense; books were lined on shelves that bordered the room. Couches, along with a decent sized fireplace and chandelier - and of course a record player, also resided in the library. Playing a tune that sounded similar but you couldn't quite remember what it was.. whatever it was, it sounded old and romantic - maybe from the 50s.

"Your not very good at hiding, you know. The music was a dead giveaway". You commented playfully.

Michael greeted you with a smirk, obviously holding back laughter. He stood up from one of the couches; approaching you. He looked incredibly handsome in the normal black ensemble he was wore but tonight he sported a long black coat. Making you fondly nostalgic of the night you two met.

He got dangerously close to you, almost in your face but you weren't intimidated. Plus, you knew he wasnt trying to actually intimidate you. Michael being the way he was; you knew he wouldn't have asked you to spend Valentines with him if he didn't tolerate you in some way.

"Its a good thing I wasnt trying to hide then, is it"? He spoke; his eyes pierced into yours.

The direct eye contact was starting to get unnerving and so was the.. apparent tension. You took a step back, looking away and laughing awkwardly - trying to remind yourself you two were strictly friends. Best friends, in fact. Nothing more.. and nothing less.

"So.. what even is this place? You don't own this or something.. do you"? You asked, slyly changing the topic.

"Actually I do. It's being saved for something I have in the works; but nothing's official yet. I wanted to get your opinion though.. what do you think"? Michael asked.

Even though you absolutely loved, whatever the hell this place even was, something.. felt off. Perhaps it was the fact it was completely secluded and private. Too private. You knew Michael was into some weird shit with the Satanists but; you figured he would atleast tell you by now if he was planning on something big with them.. Something that would require a huge fucking mansion underground.

"This place is beautiful, Michael. But what is it for"?

"Your too eager for your own good, (y/n). You will know in due time, I promise; but for now.. come sit with me".

He gently grabbed your wrist and guided you over to one of the bare, black couches; you followed - sitting next to him.

The hours continuing were filled with incredibly cheesy gestures that you only rolled your eyes at, and teased him for. The first being a few small, pink flowers he had conjured up and then tucked into your hair. At first you really thought nothing of it, they were just pretty flowers. However; you knew due to Michael's nature that he didn't just so happen to come across those flowers, he summoned them purposefully - specifically for you.. You didn't bother to try and hide how flustered this made you.

"Those are beautiful; what are they"? You asked, gesturing to the flowers.

"Thought you'd never ask. Wild roses. They hold many meanings; most agree they represent both love, suffering, beauty.. life. They're even said to protect the living from the dead".

You couldn't help but to laugh at his explanation.

"Will they protect me from you? You know your not exactly human yourself". You teased.

The corner of Michael's lips slid into a slow smile, one that you couldn't quite decipher whether it was an ironic or genuine gesture.

You nearly jumped at how quickly one of Michael's hands suddenly slid up into your hair; seemingly picking out one of the petals that had fallen from one of the flowers - he retracted his hand, holding onto the petal.

"No. Your going to need something stronger than that to keep me away". He said playfully, before crushing the already wilted petal in his hand - letting it fall carelessly to ground.

You could only roll your eyes.

Next came the food and well.. you were beyond impressed. Your not certain exactly how he managed to get your favorite food down who knows how many feet underground, but.. he did. And it was perfect.

You were both pretty quiet during that time; Michael didn't really have a reason to be but you couldn't help but to get lost within your thoughts. Sure; you two were best friends but.. that didn't necessarily warrant him to do all of this for you. Was it possible that he felt.. something else, like you did?

You couldn't help but to shut that thought down as quick as it came; that had to just be you projecting. There was no way in hell he could love you back..

Wait.. love?

It was like a involuntary reflex the way you suddenly jolted up and backed away from the table. Even though it was just a thought, the fact you just admitted to yourself that you loved him.. What the fuck did that even mean?

Michael looked startled at well, you could tell by the color of his knuckles that he now had a death grip on his silverware. His icy, blue eyes matched yours with a startled gaze.. As if he was trying to contemplate your next move or to get a good read on you. You were more than well acquainted with Michael's powers by now; you knew how he had the ability to read minds and that's partially why you found yourself, slowly at first, starting to take steps away from him. Wanting desperately to get the fuck away from him. You knew that if Michael even suspected what you were thinking or how you felt, that your friendship could possibly be over. That would be it, he would want absolutely nothing to do with you. You would be no better than the dozens of women and even men that threw themselves at Michael; Maybe even worse.

You made it down a random hallway until you found yourself physically colliding into him - fucking transmutation.

You felt a sudden urge to just turn around to try and escape again but you knew he wouldn't let you. Instead you let yourself be captive, you let him hold you. Gently encasing you into a hug. It was painful how hard you were trying to hold back your tears - blindly running away was already embarrassing enough, letting him see you cry would be too much.. Too much for one night, anyways. You felt him let go of you - stepping back a little bit in order to make eye contact with you.

"What has gotten into you-" He started.

"Michael- I'm so sorry but I just need to go. We can talk about this tomorrow but for now I just really need to be alone-"

You tried to turn around in order to make another (more calm) attempt at leaving but you felt something grab at your wrist, yet again. His grasp, along with his hand were achingly soft. You hated how much you enjoyed him making physical contact with you - even if it was something just as docile as this. You also couldn't help but to hate the spark of electricity you felt when his skin touched yours - and you couldn't help but to wonder whether he felt it too.

"No. I need to know what I did wrong. I'm not letting us end today like this". Michael said, his voice was strained with emotion.

His words were spoken urgently, his voice unsteady and even threatening to break.. That's when you knew you completely fucked up. He totally misinterpreted your actions.. the sudden realization hit you, piercing your heart like a knife.

"No, your right. Can we sit"? You asked.

He let go of your wrist coldly, sauntering out of the hallway you two were in. You would be lying if you were to admit that his sudden cold actions didn't hurt you; it definitely stung but you couldn't help to feel in this moment that you kind of deserved it.

The walk over was quiet and even a bit awkward. When you two sat; he looked at you expectedly.. waiting for you to talk first and explain your sudden, impulsive actions.

"It wasnt you.. that's not why I tried to leave at all, Michael. You did everything right. I mean that's really the 'problem', even though calling it a problem still isn't the right word but.." You paused before carrying on.

"What you did tonight for me was perfect, and I'm so thankful for that, truly. But I just feel like I'm starting to interpret your actions in a different way than in which you mean them and that's not fair to you. I know you just want a friend-" Your words continuously came out faster the longer you spoke, you were completely rambling at this point but Michael stopped you.

"Hey, stop". He said softly.

You felt as if you were dreaming when you saw him start to move closer to you.. it happened so quickly it almost felt fake. Michael gently pushed you back onto the couch, so that you were basically laying down flat on your back. You pulled him back with you so that he was on top, your hands automatically going to his shoulders.. feeling the sudden urge to yank his black top off and to feel his skin under your palms. The feeling was tempting; you could feel how hot his skin was even with his shirt on. You assumed your hands were cold by the way Michael shivered and even groaned when you touched him, that had to be the only logical explanation for him acting like that..

The manner in which he bent down, his lips getting closer and closer to yours was nothing but diabolic. He stopped until the point where his lips were just ghosting above yours - maybe only really a mere centimeter away from touching. It felt entirely far too tempting to just - barely tilt your head forward and stop whatever game your friend Langdon was trying to play, but.. you didnt. In reality; the teasing was far too delicious for you to want it to end so soon.

"Who said I just wanted to be friends"? He whispered.

You could taste his breath as he spoke, you felt trapped.. But if you were to be honest with yourself, you wouldn't rather spend Valentines Day any other way than in this manner.. Trapped with your absolute favorite person, with nothing else in the world to do but to get lost in each other.

His lips roughly collided with yours with such passion that you really haven't ever felt before. It threw you off guard for a moment, but you figured there was no sense in shying from it. You had been craving to be loved by him for so long; craving for him to touch you like this and now that it was finally happening.. you only relaxed and embraced the feeling.

Time slipped away from you far too quickly but after all; time didn't really feel real at all when you were underground in a bunker. No windows or clocks to help ground you back into reality..

You knew it was atleast passed midnight now; hours had passed and you two were now residing in one of the random rooms that you had come to learn was of 'Outpost Three'. It was apparent how careful he was with his words when he told you about the place; almost like he didn't want to tell you too much. He told you most of everything, like the cooperative and how this building was for some type of event that would be taking place in the summer but you didn't probe farther. You knew he would tell you in all due time.

You two were lying on a random, spare bed. It was luxurious and dangerously soft, but if you were honest - the sheets almost seemed scratchy in comparison to Michaels bare skin. Your head wasnt on a pillow but instead on Michael's bare chest, his rhythmic heart beat nearly lulling you to sleep. Almost putting you in some type of odd trance.

You both watched the movie that was playing on his laptop; propped up on a few sparse pillows at the end of the bed. Although you really weren't trying to keep up with what was happening or what the actors were even saying. Instead, you chose to be fully present with Michael, almost entranced in his presence. You two weren't talking but, just being surrounded by him - feeling his fingers lazily playing with your hair was heaven to you.

You still felt as if you were in a dream. After all in what timeline would you ever be so lucky to call someone like Michael, yours?? Even though you two weren't exactly official, you really didn't mind at this moment. Labels only seemed to really complicate things and in your opinion; you felt more than privileged to just sit here entangled with Michael, and to escape the rest of reality for a while.

Taglist: @mina672 @michaellangdonstanaccount @langdonsexual @jimmason @blakewaterxx @dark-mei-rose @9layerdevilfoodcake @prophecy-is-inevitable @matildaofoz @beautyiswithinchaos @frenchlangdon

#michael x reader #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon fanfic #michael langdon fanfiction #ahs fanfiction #my fic #i hope yall like this 🥺 its kinda odd i feel like but.. idk. im proud of the ending lmao #will post to ao3 in a few hours or so #lemme know if u would like to be on the taglist #I almost cut out the backstory of how they met but i just feel like it overall adds to the fic??#ALSO the timing of this fic is probably not accurate at all like canon wise loll but idc

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axlsangel · 4 years

Text

A Favor

Axl Rose x Reader

Concept: You work as Axl’s PA during the Use Your Illusion Era, but to Axl, you could be of more use.

Warning: 3,000 Words of S M U T

(*ovaries have left chat*)

You watch as the supermodel twirls her hair, tilting her head almost enough to snap her neck as she listens to Axl. It didn’t take a genius to recognize that she wasn’t much into his rambling as she was into making him believe she cared, but you had no room to speak. Instead, you were busy sorting out Axl’s suitcase for him before you all headed onto a plane back to North America for the next leg of the tour.

Needless to say, your arms were beginning to hurt from having to fold so many clothes since Axl had a habit of crumpling them and squeezing them together to make it all fit inside. Now and then, you snickered at the graphics, or just some of the outfit choices in general, like a shirt that read ‘Nobody Knows I’m a Lesbian’. You even blushed as you came across a personal favorite, his Marlboro t-shirt he’d worn during their concert in Indiana. You examined the fabric for a moment, recalling how he had paired it with a light pink bandana, thinking him to be utterly gorgeous throughout the show where he’d offered compassion to his fans and nailed every note with ease.

“Should I wear that one for our next show?” Axl’s voice erupted you from your thoughts, urging you to look up. By now, Stephanie had left the room, plausibly to catch her flight back to New York, where she was staying.

“You don’t have to,” you murmured, looking through some of his options. “This black fishnet can work wonders.”

Axl snorted, giving you a playful eye roll as he sat back down on the hotel sofa. You can tell he was instantly sucked back into his thoughts just by the way he appeared— the familiar hunch of his shoulders, his pursed lips, and the way his knee began to bob relentlessly.

“Is there anything I can do for you, Boss?” You murmured, sensing his tension pivoting around the room. You’d been warned many times before taking up the job that Axl was hard to deal with, not only as a friend, but just his mere presence could be tiring. Though you continue to stick beside him, mainly because you fear him having to deal with losing another person in his life.

Axl looks up at you, scrutinizing you in a way that felt unfamiliar. The chartreuse in his eyes had darkened, a mysterious grey seeming to swivel around his dilated pupils.

“Do you think she loves me?” He asks abruptly, his voice lacking of any tone you could decipher as a specific emotion.

“Stephanie?” You think for a moment, regarding whether it’d be wrongful to tell him of your exact thoughts. But Axl was never not honest with you, and he deserved the same respect in return. “Frankly, I-I don’t...”

Axl nods, but he remains peering at you.

“C’mere, Y/N,” he orders, but you remain stagnant. If you came any closer, you would be hovering over him, perhaps too close to his lap, especially in a place as intimate as the couch where borders could easily be broken.

“Axl, I—”

“Just c’mere,” he says, this time in a sharper manner, and you reluctantly oblige, stepping forward. Right before him, looking down at him, you can catch the aroma of nicotine and a hint of cologne emanating off of him. You thought of all the times you were able to recognize his scent, even in a subtle moments such as when he walked past you to get to the stage or to his dressing room. But now, you two were this close, and all you wanted was to feel closer to him. He was a mystery you wished to unravel, to lose yourself in the twists and turns that make up his complex persona. But he was somebody else’s.

“Can you do me a favor, dear?” He cocks his head at you, and you almost fall breathless as you discern the look in his eyes to be of lust.

“Anything,” you exhale, almost too quickly and confidently for your own liking, but he only smirks in approval.

“Kneel down right there, on the floor.”

You frown as you look at the spaces on the couch beside him, though after working for him for a good extent of time, you’ve acquired a fair idea of how picky and demanding he could be. Therefore, you knelt down just as he’d asked, looking up at him sheepishly. You watch as his fingers graze across his own belt, beginning to undo it as you recognize your own look of desire lingering in the reflections on his rings.

“Slide this off for me,” he tells you as he pushes his pants down to his thighs, and you quickly pull them down further, tossing them aside. Looking up at him, you can already see the bulge almost bigger than the height of your face. “Again,” he continues, this time with his briefs, prompting you to pull them down, stopping as you watch his cock spring free from the garment. You can hardly tear your gaze off of it, feeling almost intimidated seeing him in a position like that right before you. His legs spread slightly, his cock almost to his stomach, white droplets of precum already beading off the reddened tip. And of course, the way he looked at you, as though a treasure placed right before him.

It was unfaithful of him, and of you regarding that you were just his assistant. But your pussy was already beginning to throb in your underwear as you never longed for a more desirable sight.

“Suck me off, Y/N,” he gives his next demand.

You lean closer, resting your hands on his knees, taking a moment to register the abrupt turn of events as you look up at him. “Are y-you sure?”

“Of course, I need this, I need you to do this...” His hand reaches to caress your cheek, and you almost lose yourself in the reassuring smile he gives you, a flash of sweetness in a moment of sensuality.

Without wasting another second, you salivate your mouth, gliding your tongue from the base to the tip of his long cock. Instantly, he relaxes into the back of the couch, inspecting you as you get a feel for him. Your tongue travels every vein before you wrap your lips around the head, looking up at him as you swirl your tongue around it.

“Fuck...” he exhales, and his voice is already rasped and deepened with an appetite, one of which you devote yourself to salvaging. His fingers thread through your hair as you bring your lips down further, hollowing your cheeks to allow room for his girth to push through. His hips rise from the cushion, descending and ascending again and again as he pushes your head down further. You don’t realize how far you’ve taken him until you feel his cock hitting the back of your throat. His hand had moved down to your neck, his thumb brushing along your chin in a slow and lazy manner as he released a deep moan.

You bobbed your head, caressing his balls in a more conscious manner regarding the tenderness there, though keeping your actions around his cock swift and sensual.

“Such a good girl,” he murmurs, his voice laced with seduction as you come back up, allowing the saliva that was starting to choke you spill out over his cock. He smirked as he smeared your own drool over your cheek with his thumb, slapping your face lightly before pushing you back down on his cock. You gag around him, though he continues to hold you there, bucking his hips over and over and fucking your mouth ruthlessly.

He brings you back up, giving you a moment to cough and gather back your strength. He pulls his shirt off, tossing it aside before his hands fall to his sides as he sinks back further into the couch. “Take your clothes off.”

You don’t hesitate, instantly denuding before him. As you unclasp your bra, you look up at him, eyeing the lustful anticipation in his eyes and allowing the bra to fall, your nipples hardening with the brisk flush of the air conditioner hitting them.

“Come up here, beauty,” he murmurs, even though you haven’t taken your thong off. You climb onto his lap, looking at him shyly as he wraps an arm around your waist, his other hand stroking your breasts tenderly. A lilting mewl escapes your lips as you lean back a bit, allowing him to almost cradle you as his fingers flick against the sensitive flesh. You shiver as you watch him lean closer, his tongue circling one of your areoles before flattening against your nipple.

“Axl,” you whisper, closing your eyes as you relax into the feeling, growing even more wet as he begins to nip and suck at different m places along your breasts, leaving reddened splotches that you were certain would progress into hickeys in only a matter of time. Your hand reaches to wrap around his cock, lazily stroking his erection as his lips travel your body.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N,” he mumbles against you. You open your eyes as he rests you down on the cushion, watching him adjust himself between your legs, feeling almost too seen in such a vulnerable position. Though the way he adorns your body with soft hands and agile lips, you feel desired for the first time in the longest while.

His index fingers hook along the remaining skimpy fabric between you and him, and you lift your hips, allowing him to pull them down to your knees. You blush as he leans down, so close to your pussy that he could inhale the arousal riveting off of you.

“Such a pretty little pussy,” he comments, pressing a kiss to your clit, his eyes meeting yours. “S’all mine tonight...”

“A-Are you going to fuck me?” You inquire shyly, feeling your juices glazing your inner thighs, needing him more than ever.

“I’m gonna take my time with you,” he says, giving you a cute wink as he kisses along your pussy again. You witness your own wetness glistening off his lips, leaning your head back and sighing with a mix of contentment and desire. You wouldn’t mind Axl making love to you all night, especially if it was all you could have him for.

He takes his time rubbing his lips against your pussy, his fingers now and then dragging across your folds, spreading your wetness. He minds it as though a cat playing with a mouse, getting a feel for which places brought goosebumps to your skin whenever he touched them, and simply just admiring seeing something so perfect before him. You instinctively spread your legs further as you feel his sharp tongue flick against your clit, sliding beneath it and running down your folds with as much dexterity as his own finger could do.

“A-Axl,” you whimper as you feel yourself throbbing for him, needing him to move quicker or you’d just combust.

“Patience,” he hisses, looking up at you hastily before reverting his attention back to his little game. You sit up to grasp a better view of him, lacing your fingers into his hair and propping your leg on his shoulder. He leaves kisses along your inner thighs before spreading your folds again, his tongue flicking harshly against your opening, lapping up the juices dripping out of you. “So fuckin’ wet for me...”

“Shit!” You moan loudly as he shoves the tip of his tongue inside of you without hesitation, drawing back before doing it again, his teeth grazing over your folds as he pushes his tongue deeper and deeper.

You couldn’t begin to decipher if he treated Stephanie this good, if he even cared to eat her out with as much passion as he was with you, thrusting his tongue in and out and slobbering over your tight pussy. And it wasn’t as though you cared either. If he needed you, then it was enough to show that she couldn’t even begin to chip away at the layers of satisfaction he vied for.

You let him know how good he was making you feel, gripping his hair a bit tighter and letting out pornographic moans, ones of which so passionate and raw that he almost lost himself in how perfect you sounded.

“You taste so good, darlin’,” he murmurs, sending vibrations right up your pussy. You shudder as you scoot up to the arm of the couch, pulling him back up to you, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your lips against his own, kissing him with all the desire pent up inside of you since the moment you first ever saw him.

He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you back onto his lap as his tongue rolls around your own, allowing you to taste your own sweetness.

“P-Please, I need you inside of me,” you whisper rashly as you pull away, rubbing yourself against his length, your folds spreading along him as you sway your hips.

“Such a needy little thing...” He smirks as his hands hold either side of your waist, his rings grazing into your skin as he lifts you, bringing you carefully back down on his cock. A mix of pain and pleasure courses through you as you feel your walls tearing to make room for his girth.

“Fuck,” you gasp as he brings you down all the way, his cock buried inside of you now. You rest your hands on his shoulders, taking a moment to gather yourself as he trails kisses along your jaw and neck.

“My pretty little gal,” he whispers, fondly snaking his arms around your waist, holding you against his chest as you subtly circle your hips.

“I-I’m not yours,” you reply, your voice just above a whisper as you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck. “She is.” You can feel him tense up, though he doesn’t loosen the embrace he holds you in.

“I’m gonna figure this out,” he reassures, his nose brushing against your cheek as you speaks to you closely, every word right in your ear as they belong to you only.

You lift your hips, beginning to ride him as your thighs straddled either side of his waist. He adjusts again, holding you close with one arm as he rested a hand on the cushion, making it easier for him to maintain balance as he bucked his hips up into your tight hole. You moved with him, rolling your hips into his, circling them, lifting them, dropping them— doing anything to continue expelling the deep grouses and moans from his lips.

He sounded so perfect; like everything you’ve ever wanted.

You yelp as you feel his thrusts getting sharper and stronger, eventually being shoved back against the cushions as he clambers on top of you. Your legs spread further for him, and you could care less for the pain in your inner thighs as he hammered himself into you.

In a moment like this, you’re able to get a better look at him. You watch as sweat glistens off his chest and abs, his hair darkening with the perspiration that’d soaked it, and his eyes hooded with carnality. You feel yourself getting closer, wishing to hang onto the moment. His hands move from your hips and up into his own hair, stilling himself and allowing you to writhe yourself against him, slowly enough to examine the way his big cock disappeared into your pussy.

Axl smirked as he looked down at you, adoring you and your actions. “Take your time, baby,” he murmurs. “I’m getting close, too.”

You blush as you pull away completely, seeing his tip already bubbling with his cum, letting him enter you again, almost instinctively recognizing the warmth inside of you to be of his own essence.

“Axl...” you whimper, feeling closer as he twitches inside of you.

“Cum around me, baby,” he tells you, his final order as he lowers himself on top of you, kissing your lips hungrily.

And you don’t hesitate, instantly feeling warmth contriving in your lower stomach, your pussy throbbing harder than ever as your walls close in on him. It doesn’t take long before you feel his own cum spilling into you, his body weakly collapsing on top of you.

You two remain there for another hour or so, your legs wrapped around his waist, his cheek pressed against your chest as he listens to your heartbeat. You’ve never been in such an intimate moment, and never did you anticipate having him even wish to stay clinging to you after all that’d just gone down.

“Was it love, or was it just sex, Axl?” You whisper, your fingers brushing through his strawberry hair. He smiles against your chest, perhaps because your heartbeat has quickened significantly, or was he just that infatuated?

“It was everything to me, love.”

“And what about her?” You frown as you remember Stephanie, feeling a bit of shame broiling in your stomach.

“She doesn’t matter, Y/N,” Axl tells you, looking up at you. “She can’t matter compared to you.”

“But you’re with her—”

“I’m gonna end it,” he interrupts hastily. “I don’t want to miss feeling like I matter because I chose to spend time with someone who could care less about me.”

You sigh as you look at him, your thumb brushing against the height of his cheekbone. “You do matter.”

He smiles as he rises up, kissing your lips softly. “And thanks to you, it’s not some facade. It’s a reality.”

#guns n roses #axl rose x you #axl rose imagine #axl rose x reader #axl rose smut #guns n roses x reader #gnr x reader #gnr imagine #guns n roses x you #gnr smut

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hajimeiwaswife · 3 years

Text

STRINGS

Word count: 4,1K

Warnings: major character death, little angst

Summary: two lovers reunited by the power of music.

"Traveller! Be careful!" Xiao shouted, reaching to Aether in time to safe him from being knocked by a giant rock that fell out of the mountain.

"Thank you, Xiao." the boy said, out of breath, before resuming the fight against their enemies, the ones that had taken his sister away from him.

Xiao recognised easily the odour of blood, having spilled so much by himself in his past. If it had been any other time, he would have fought harshly and precisely, but now that he had finally found happiness, he didn't want to die. Or worst, his significant other to die.

Years took upon the Adeptus to finally open up to the Anemo Archon, who didn't give up on him ever since they met. Barbatos, or Venti, as he liked to go by, had been by his side trying for the Adeptus to comprehend human emotions, feelings that he already had inside of him. He had been so patient with him, so caring, that now Xiao finally understood what it was to be loved. But what if this battle took it away from him? He was terrified.

The sound of explosions surrounded the landscape, lifeless corpses on the ground above pools of scarlet liquid decorating the grass. The touch of Death wrapping those who sighed their last breath, too many to be count. The Adeptus was heading into battle again when he felt someone grab his shoulder, the gentle hands of his lover.

"Not there," Venti stated, taking Xiao's hand in his, "you're needed in this other area. The Millelith are having trouble."

He took his orders, not without giving him a nod to indicate respect and, in Xiao's language, a 'take care'. Venti, however, took the Adeptus' nape and kissed him briefly before running away, laughing mischievously. Poor Xiao, flustered as ever, followed the way he had been indicated and started fighting in all his might again, powerful lance in hand.

Hours of battle passed, more dead around the survivors to assimilate. The Adeptus was tired and in need of checking on his loved ones, but he continued to fulfil his duty, he understood that if he was exhausted, humans would be in their limit. Nonetheless, after everything went quiet, he breathed as if he had been deprived of oxygen for centuries.

The silence was appalling, announcing the misfortunes and desperation that waited for those who were still alive. Xiao took a look around, sighting Aether with Paimon, Zhongli, Kaeya, Diluc, Jean and some of the Knights of Favonious. He also saw some of his fellow Adepti and the Qixing. But he couldn't find Venti, the Anemo Archon was nowhere to be seen nor to be heard.

A bad feeling sunk in the bottom of his stomach, with shaking legs he started walking along the path of corpses, wishing to be mistaken and to not find his lover laying within them. When he saw no green in the clothes of the dead, he felt relieved, knowing that the Archon was somewhere else, until he saw the blue braids he loved so much.

His heart dropped while he approached the corpse, green clothes now red from blood, characteristic hat lost somewhere in the valley, aquamarine eyes, once full of life, now looked at the sky without emotion, lifeless, no soul behind them. The Adeptus' knees gave up and fell next to his lover's body. He was speechless, in shock, completely gone from reality as his brain tried to understand what was going on in front of him. 'Please, let it be another nightmare.'

With tremble hands, Xiao took Venti's body in a cold hug, the Archon's head on the Adeptus' chest that rumbled in a hurt scream, shouting to the skies and letting them know he had had enough, he had lost the person he loved the most. Swaying them both from side to side, Xiao cried, caressing Barbatos' hair. "I love you, please, don't leave me." Xiao begged, heartbroken. "I know I never told you, but I think- no, I am in love with you. At last, I understand my feelings. Please, Venti, don't go."

Aether came next to Xiao, pitying his friend's sobs that didn't stop. He also felt sad by Venti's loss, he considered the Archon his friend, and he was going to cry and mourn his death. Along with him, the survivors of Mondstadt as a whole kneed in front of the dead Archon and the Adeptus, bidding their goodbyes to Barbatos, the Archon of the City of Freedom.

2000 years later, in another dimension...

Xiao was late, he had overslept and had lost the train to the Conservatory, again. He had spent the night studying Harmony II and lost track of time. What was sleep for a student, though? 'Never heard of it.'

Running across the street, trying not to lose his piano sheets, he finally got to the bus station, the only transport apart from the train that could get him to his destination. It was to its fullest, so he would have to be standing, not very practical to study. He eyes followed the Chopin Nocturne nº20, thinking the rubatos in his mind and trying to memorize the digits in the final scales. He sighed, if he hadn't had spent so much time studying the Harmony rules in the Gregorian Era, he would have had enough time to practice piano. But organization wasn't his best attribute.

He trusted his ability reading at first sight and closed the folder, looking out the window. It was a good day, the sun was shining and lighting the path of those who walked in their way to their jobs, schools, universities or even who were just strolling. The few trees the city had were full of green leaves that were swaying to the sound of the pre summer breeze, warning people of the incoming heat wave. Xiao wished to finish the year as soon as possible so he could go to the beach and stroll and listen to music with the dancing waves of the ocean.

The rest of the morning went without incident, his inner talent allowing him to feign having study and his teacher praising his musicality. Xiao was a sensitive person, he felt too deep, different from what everyone who knew him thought of him because of his rough facade. His musicality and deep feelings were what made him an expert in Chopin, being the best in his region to play the musical pieces of the Polish composer.

He exited the place and walked to the train station thinking about his incoming exams, music was definitely one of the tougher and more beautiful things he had ever experimented. At the same time, he started listening a guitar melody and a sweet voice accompanying it; Xiao looked to the source of the sound and saw a boy his age playing an acoustic guitar and singing inside the train station. He had dyed dark blue hair, nearly black, that degraded into a light blue the nearer it came closer to his hair tips. He had enough hair to pull it into a bun, giving him a carefree look that matched his crop trousers, white t-shirt and denim jacket. But when they both made eye contact, Xiao swore to had seen those eyes before, gentle aquamarine gaze looking back at him.

The pianist stood there for a few minutes, listening and admiring the singer, but he had to go if he didn't want to lose the train. He just hoped he would see the singer again, captivated by his songs and, especially, his eyes.

Indeed, he saw the man every day since at that same spot, at the same hour, different songs. Xiao envied him, he also wanted to compose, but was too focused learning classical pieces to invest more time in composing his own ones, but he was positive one day he would.

It continued like that for a month; the man would be there, playing and singing while Xiao stood there for some minutes listening to him. He was so familiar and strange at the same time that Xiao had no choice but be intrigued by him. Until one day, the man wasn't there.

"What?" Xiao looked around, but the dark blue haired man wasn't in his usual spot nor in any nearby.

For a week, the singer didn't appear and Xiao started to think he would not see him again. Much to his disdain, he felt sad; he always waited for the time of the day where he would see and hear the man, it was like a ritual for him. Now, all of a sudden, it was gone.

Walking out of the train, distracted looking for the man, he didn't notice his folder opening and the piano sheets getting lost among the people.

"Hey!" he heard behind him. Even if he had never heard him talk, he knew it was him, his voice sounded as sweet as when he sang. He turned around and saw the singer behind him, shaking some papers in his hands, "I think these are yours!"

Xiao took at what the singer had in his hand. He was still rather shocked by finding him again after so long, but he paid attention to the papers to recognise them as his piano sheets, the ones he needed for his exam tomorrow.

"Thank you," he said nonchalantly, taking them from the other musician.

Their hands touched for an instant, a short among of time for any other mortal, but enough for them to feel a tingle inside their chests. Xiao took the sheets quickly and put some distance between them both. He didn't know what that feeling was and he definitely didn't want to discover it.

"You're welcome!" answered the man, smiling brightly after falling silent for a few seconds after the incident, "I see you play the piano, are you majoring in music?"

"Yes," replied the pianist, looking at everywhere but the man in front of him.

"That's so cool! I would have loved to learn music officially, but I had to conformed with learning by myself."

"I see."

"Hehe! I always saw you pass while I was playing, it's cool to know that I had a fellow musician listening to me!"

"Hmm, you're not that bad."

"Why, thank you."

The singer felt how closed up the pianist was, so he took it as a compliment, comprehending that maybe he wasn't really used to interacting with people. Meanwhile, Xiao was panicking. He had been looking for the man for weeks and now he couldn't even talk properly.

"What's your name?"

"My name?"

"Yes!" the singer waited for the other man to reply, patiently.

"...Xiao," said the pianist after considering telling him or not, "and yours?"

"I'm Venti, nice to meet you!"

Again, them both felt like those names were too familiar, a similar sensation like the one before arose in their stomachs. Venti smiled, something that Xiao noticed to be frequent, as in the two minutes they had been interacting he hadn't stopped smiling.

"Well, I hope I see you around! Maybe one day we can play together."

"I guess so, yes."

With a parting nod, Xiao turned around and went to his daily classes, not without thinking about their encounter. Something felt odd in the deep of the situation, he just couldn't think of what it was. Feeling like you know someone without having actually met wasn't something that happened at Xiao's life.

Returning from the Conservatory that afternoon, he first heard the guitar and voice, and then saw Venti playing at the train station. 'So, he's back, definitely'. He passed by him, Venti's eyes on Xiao already, giving each other a smile from the singer's part and a nod from Xiao's, and then parting.

The following weeks followed the same dynamic. Sometimes, Venti ventured to talk to Xiao, small talk, enough to get the pianist to open to him. He learned that Xiao was majoring in music specializing in piano, that he had his final exams in June and that he had a cat. The singer felt happy to have collected so much information for someone who rarely opened up.

"I was thinking that maybe we should play together," Venti said, one afternoon after Xiao returned from his classes. They had decided to have a coffee every Thursday to catch up and so they could have more normal conversations and not rushed ones at the station. Or, better said, Venti offered and Xiao just followed.

"I don't play your type of music."

"Ah?" said the singer, confused, "What do you mean with 'my type of music'?"

"Well, I'm specializing in classical music." Xiao shrugged his shoulders, returning to his almond and chocolate muffin.

"Well, yes, but that doesn't mean you can't play other styles."

Xiao continued eating, listening to Venti rumble about pop, rock and R&B. The pianist knew which styles they were, their characteristics and the most popular singers for each style, but something in the way Venti talked made him want to listen nonstop. The young singer was passionate about what he did, just as Xiao was about his profession.

"So? What do you say?"

"I don't know," Xiao started, biting his lip, "I don't think I would be good on it."

"If you can play Chopin and Mozart, you can play four chords on repeat."

Like that, Venti took Xiao to the little studio he had with Aether, his producer. Both musicians were really young, but had already launched a couple EPs. Xiao was amazed by the studio, there was a little keyboard, an acoustic guitar, an electric guitar and then the recording studio and the production table.

"Do you like it?"

Xiao just nodded, directing himself to the keyboard and switching it on. The keys were less harsh than a piano's keys, but he was sure he could manage to play on it. The sound was more electric, just what he expected.

Venti, on his part, was following Xiao's movements, happy to see him interested in what he could offer. He had been feeling dizzy in the pianist's presence for quite some time now, and he was sure he was falling for him. He was determined to show him how he felt and to open Xiao's mind.

"You can come here whenever you want, I would love to play with you," Venti said, smiling brightly when Xiao sat on the bench and placed his hand on the keys, "Can you play something for me?"

The pianist thought for some seconds, deciding on what he could gift Venti's ears with, and decided to play Fantasia in D minor by Mozart. A beautiful and complete piece by his favourite composer, he enjoyed so much playing him that got lost in the moment. The most difficult thing was to keep balance between the left and the right in the sense of sound, but for the rest Xiao had everything so clear that the melodies kept falling out of the keyboard.

After nearly ten minutes, hi finished. Venti was shocked by the way the man played, emotional and emotionless at the same time, a technique enviable. If he could do that in a keyboard, what could he do in a piano? What could he do in a harpsichord to keep up with the real instrument Mozart used?

"Sorry for the quality, a keyboard doesn't make justice to the piece." Xiao said, timidly, standing up from the bench.

"Nonsense," started the singer, still moved by the little performance, "it was incredible. You're such a good pianist!"

"I'm just mediocre." mumbled the man, blushing furiously.

"No mediocre pianist can do what you had just presented, Xiao."

They looked at each other on silence for a moment, Xiao noticing his heart rushing again. Something about Venti made him feel dizzy in a good way, it scared him, but also desired to know why he felt so attracted to the singer. Venti was just admiring Xiao's features, skin kissed by the moon, eyes deep as gold wells, rough expression that was becoming in a vulnerable one. He reminded him of a cat, wanting to make it look as he was independent and surly, but that actually was a sweetheart who needed love and care as any other human being.

'Maybe he'll let me love him in a near future.' thought the singer, gazing at a distracted Xiao, who was touching the acoustic guitar.

They decided to try and play something together, improvising in the moment and giving each other inspiration to think of better ways of following the music. Xiao had to admit to himself that it was fun and that it sounded good. He never thought he would be able to improvise to pop music, but there he was, following a guitarist and singer man.

Venti opened his mouth and started singing an, of course, improvised melody. Xiao nearly stopped playing, too distracted with the sweet and hypnotizing voice of the other man. Every time he heard him sing a memory came to his mind, one of that same voice singing just for him. Memory? No, it couldn't be. It felt like a dream, a very far away dream he had when he was a kid.

Venti, on his part, had the same memory whenever Xiao appeared when he was singing. He saw a lyre, green clothes and tattoos, golden eyes that returned his caring gaze; he also heard his own voice. What it was he didn't know, but that it had a meaning, he was sure.

The following days, after a hard time convincing Xiao, the both of them started composing a song. The chords were not the usual for the 21st Century chords, they reminded of an old Era, one forgotten by the human kind, one that only the two of them understood. The melody was melancholic, similar to a letter to a loved one you lost. The lyrics were heart-breaking, Venti provided a cruel perspective of love, requited love that did not fulfil the dream of both lovers of becoming true for centuries of being apart.

Xiao was in love with their creation, wanting to play more and more, getting lost in the music that Venti gifted him with. He didn't care about the heartache he felt whenever Venti called him 'friend', he didn't care about the goose bumps every time the singer touched his hand, he didn't care about the overwhelming desire to kiss him when he smiled. He only cared for giving him the best piano version he could offer.

"Crimson red blinded my vision, there and then you took the decision," sang Venti, fingers moving within the strings of his guitar, "'I'll see you again', you said, 'when the sun goes down and I don't feel regret."

Xiao played, keys sounding too much for his liking, he really disliked the keyboard, but it was his only way of playing with Venti. He had considered inviting him to his house, but the acoustic wouldn't have been that good.

"Arrows flied, swords were wielded, but your kiss was enough to put me out of war. Let me tell you, everything but you was a blur."

The pianist couldn't take it anymore, the lyrics had been giving him a headache ever since Venti wrote them. He loved them and hated them at the same time, it was like they were mocking him, remembering him of something he lost, but he couldn't remember what it was.

He stood up from the piano, storming out of the room and living Venti confused. The singer knew how Xiao could be, but that didn't make him feel less worried. He had never left a rehearsal, always playing his best and taking part actively in the decisions taken for the song. What could have trigger him so much to make him exit the room?

"Hey!" Venti called out, stopping Xiao from going out the studio, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." replied the pianist, tone piercing.

"Don't even try that with me," said the singer, annoyed, "we're passed the state of putting a facade."

"Really, it's no―"

Venti didn't know what crossed his mind. He was so angry, frustrated, annoyed and disappointed in Xiao not trusting him after so much effort to get to him that he kissed him out of desperation.

The pianist couldn't move, not understanding why he had a pair of lips on his, but liking the feeling of the kiss. Hesitant, he placed one of his hands on Venti's waist and the other on his left cheek and corresponded the kiss.

Hearts content and reunited, jumping in euphoria; souls greeting each other after being apart for so long; bodies finding like you find an old item you forgot you had but that you deeply cared for. They separated, a thread of saliva connecting the two of them.

"W-what?"

"Come with me, my lovely adeptus."

"Adeptus? What's that?" asked Xiao, confused, still grabbing Venti's waist.

"I-I don't know, it just felt... right? To say." replied an equally confused singer.

Venti dismissed the topic fast, carrying Xiao with him to the studio's couch. He made the pianist lay on it while he topped him, kissing him again and again, taking away his shirt after checking for his consent.

The windows tarnished because of the heat, moans of pleasure could be heard as they both took care of the other in a loving way, caressing, kissing, biting their bodies. When Venti entered Xiao after preparing him, they both saw the stars. Love noises filled the empty and soundproof room, fastened breaths demonstrating the effort of being in love, orgasmic euphoria filling the empty space on their chest, gifting them the chance of reuniting something that didn't consummate on the past.

No amount of time could break the bond they created at that moment mixed with the one they forged two thousand years prior. Post orgasmic music running between them as they recovered from the love-making session.

Venti got up, searching for towels on the little bathroom of the studio to clean both of them, trying to extend the blissful moment before they had to talk about it, focusing on the aftercare.

"Thank you." whispered a tired Xiao after getting cleaned up and being helped to put his clothes on.

"It's nothing," said Venti, shy for the first time the both of them had met, something that didn't passed Xiao's observant skills.

"Do you... regret this?"

"No!" exclaimed Venti after noticing the insecurity on the pianist's voice, "No, of course no. I was just, you know, wondering if..."

"If?"

"Wondering what this leads us to."

Xiao thought for some seconds, he knew he liked Venti, it would explain his body reactions whenever he was near him, and he understood what had just happened as Venti returning his feelings. For what he had read on books, that meant they were dating, but he could be wrong.

"I guess I'm your boyfriend," he mumbled, gazing at the floor.

"B-boyfriend!?" asked Venti, surprised of the statement the other man made.

"Isn't that the term for the person you are dating?"

"Uh... yes, but you hadn't asked me to be your boyfriend..." Venti was amused and shocked with Xiao's bold attitude, but he blamed it to the pianist's lack of experience.

"Oh, then, would you be my boyfriend?"

"But don't make it so... cold!" Venti face palmed, laughing at the situation they had at hand. He had to say, though, Xiao's ignorance on the topic was adorable, his heart was melting at the man's confused gaze.

"Then how?"

"Forget it, yes, I'll be your boyfriend." Venti replied, still laughing.

"Okay, good," said Xiao, nodding and processing the information. "now what?"

"Now we continue with the song, that we have to finish recording it."

Venti stood up from the couch, giving Xiao a small peck and 'hehe'-ing after. He positioned himself on the guitar again, shaking a little at the amount of emotion running through his veins. The pianist was still on sitting, watching Venti's every move the same way he looked at his piano. The singer was touched by the sincere look on Xiao's eyes, meaning he did feel the same.

"C'mon, little Adeptus, go play the piano half as good as you played my body."

The blush on the other's man face was imminent, causing Venti to find his new favourite thing: teasing the music student.

Music had reunited the lovers that war separated once, being the conductor channel of an Archon and an Adeptus to find their way back to the other's arms. Their past kept a mystery from them both, but their souls did remember each other, hugging and causing the two men to love as much as they once did. A bright future waited for the two talented musicians now that nothing could separate them again.

The air was pure and clear again.

#xiao x venti #xiaoven #venti x xiao #xiao #venti #xiao genshin impact #venti genshin impact #genshin impact #musician venti #musician xiao #pride 2021 #happy pride 🌈

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