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shadowworks · 3 years

Text

Compulsion

Pairing: Mafia!Dabi X Reader

Warnings: dubconish themes, flirting with Hawks, blood, murder, blackmail, fingering. NSFW, quirkless AU!

Word Count: 4.4k

A/N: Alright! This piece is for The Smut Pile Mafia Collab

I have to give my wholehearted thanks to @hisoknen @some-kindofgnome , @pleasantanathema, and @ever-enthralled for reading this over the last couple weeks, and making sure it reads well! I am so happy to have you beautiful souls! Also a special shoutout to Raph for brainstorming with me when I was stuck at the very end. 💕

Edit: This has fanart! Beautiful @maewoahoah created a Mafia!Hawks piece right here and a Mafia!Dabi piece here! She’s very talented! ;)

On this ominous winter evening it begins snowing.

You readjust your peacoat and step through the frosty glow of the street lamp to your front door. Your muscles ache a little more than usual, your steps a little heavier. It’s been a long and tedious day at work; far less stimulating compared to Toga’s position working for a bootlegger named Tomura. But both jobs pay the rent. You push papers and withhold your scowls towards clients. Now, you want a bath.

The sound of a muffled radio plays on the other side, and it floods your ears as you walk in with warmth and an iron smell wafting your chilled nose.

“Folks, I'm goin' down to St. James Infirmary...

Seeeee, my baby there;

She's stretched out on a long, white table

She looks so sweet, so cold, so fair.”

Toga’s playing blues again. It’s a routine she has before the graveyard shift across town. At this time, she’s in the kitchen making something before she goes, but you’re having trouble figuring out what food smells like copper.

“He-e-e-y,” you call lazily, a sing-songy tone in your voice.

She doesn’t answer, though you hear the clacking of stiletto heels on wood, which makes you amble down the hall to see what she’s doing.

“Think you can smuggle some whiskey tonight? I thought we had some, but Keigo probably polished it off last—“

You stop in the doorway.

There’s a poor bastard lying flat on his back, head twisting too far towards the sink. Ribbons of blood streak down his colorless skin, pouring out from a dark and glossy hole just beneath his jaw. You see it puddle and stain the edges of his hair a sticky red, the only sound besides your heart thudding is the soft thrums from the parlor.

“ When I die please bury me in my high top Stetson hat

Put a twenty dollar gold piece on my watch chain

So the gang'll know I died standing pat.”

You’re in a daze, one where you’re not sure how long you’ve been staring. It doesn’t seem real. Is it real? But it’s not until you hear the sound of heels clicking against the wood floors that you drag your gaze to the noise.

Toga’s standing near the stove, her features vacant, shoulders slouched, and she’s holding a knife that’s still wet.

What the fuck?

You want to scream, berate her, seethe what the fuck was she thinking, or if she was thinking for that matter. But the blonde speaks up before you do, with a voice above a whisper.

“He was going to leave me. Said he was too dangerous.” Toga doesn’t look in your direction, moving to the rim of pooled blood which has stopped spreading out, “I told him I wouldn’t let anyone come between us, but he wouldn’t listen.”

Your jaw goes taut, staring incredulously at her steely face. The lack of emotion gives you a sinking feeling in your stomach.

The man wasn’t a random suit who bled out on your floor, this moron was seeing Toga on and off for months and had been trying to be more present.

Nights spent arriving at your door with flowers and sweets, and driving her to work was becoming a staple in his routine. He preferred staying in Toga’s room if they had the day off, and he always slipped out when the morning frost dusted the grass, a soft bluish hue painting the streets before sunlight.

But that’s not the problem. See, he was a core member inside the Mafia running the northern side of the city, ‘The League’ they like to call themselves. The only men above this guy was his boss Tomura, and the underboss Dabi. You don’t know the former, but you’ve spent time with the latter.

You’re aware of his sadistic nature that flashes behind those teal eyes, and he doesn’t try to hide it, either. The sideway glances during a poker match before he fucked someone over , the smile he wore when you asked about the purple bruises on his knuckles.

So fan-fucking-tastic, the broad has some nerve.

You curl your lip, already shrugging your shoulders from your coat. You toss it over the table and start rolling up your sleeves to the elbows.

Toga finally turns towards you after catching movement by her side, brows raising confused, “What are you doing?”

“You’re gonna grab his feet and we’re gonna move him onto the rug in the hall.”

You step in the blood, grabbing him by the rusty black colored jacket and dragging him from the puddle. Of course it leaves drag marks, your heels making tracks alongside, but you can deal with the clean up later.

Toga hurries over to help, carrying him by the legs and letting you guide the body to the floral rug.

“You don’t want to know what happened?”

You stop. Immediately dropping the dead weight, his blond head lolls off to the side. Your palms sheen with red, but you straighten up and push a beach curl from your cheekbone with the back of your hand.

“Not really. All I want is this fucker out of my house.”

It’s her turn to stare at you incredulously. This is completely out of nowhere for you to be assisting in hiding a dead boyfriend, even if you two are roommates. You’ve only been living together for four months now.

“Toga, I need you to listen, okay?” you say, a bit mockingly, “I can look past the murdering business by pretending you acted in self defense, but if you don’t have the goddamn brains to realize this idiot has friends, then I suggest you don’t stab people!”

Toga flinches slightly at the lilted pitch in your voice, already suggesting panicky, “We can take him to the woods and hide him there?”

“That’ll work.” You don’t think Twice about it.

Working together, you both hoist him a couple feet onto the rug, refusing to look at his face. You didn’t need to be feeling a pang of guilt. It doesn’t take long for you to roll him towards the front door, as the material wraps around his figure.

The hardest part is retreating to the car. The moment you push through the door, you see the distance from where you stand and the car parked a little down the sloping street. You both give a hard look to the powdery snow dusting the ground, quiet and enchanting. It would be beautiful...had you not been carrying a corpse.

“Stop being a little bitch and heave!”

“I can’t! You’re making me hold all the weight!”

“He’s off the ground! How the fuck are you holding all the weight?”

“But my arms hurt!”

“Fucking hell, Toga. What if I had stayed at my sister’s tonight? What then?”

“Stop yelling at me! I get it, alright? I shouldn’t have done it in the house!”

Your bickering toils through the winds, muffled by the falling snow. The burst of cold air is running through your buttoned blouse while crossing to the 1929 Chevrolet causing a shiver to roll down your back. When you reach the car Toga plops the rug down onto the snow first, then you. Your wet fingers feel numb against the metal handle.

There’s one entrance on each side, which likely will make shimming the body to the backseat much harder. You pause, looking at the front in thought.

“I’ll go first,” you say, “when he’s in, you go and grab our coats.”

“Are we burying him?”

“Think the lake’s faster.”

“What if it’s icy? They’ll see the hole if we throw him in.”

You both ponder your options for a little while, this isn’t exactly something you’ve done before...You can’t say the same for Toga, but she seems just as puzzled, almost clueless on how to get rid of her ex.

Meanwhile, the rolled corpse behind you starts to slip downhill, little by little. The slanting street gives speed and the rug starts to roll.. Red droplets trail behind in its wake.

You just happen to see it first.

“Toga—Toga, the body! The body!”

Toga cries out, taking off after the rug as best she can on a frozen sheet. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

The graceful snowfall flutters with pain and chaos.

Toga skids against the fresh ice, feet stumbling under her navy blue dress. She falls to the ground with a hard thud, and you see she isn’t stopping. She keeps going alongside the body, sliding until the two disappear under another parked car.

You don’t have time to think, a chill strikes up your spine in your panic.

“Toga!” you call out, taking off after her. Unfortunately you find yourself abruptly on your back, pounding hard on the stones and stealing the breath from your lungs.

If you could sigh right now you would. Or rather, if you could punch Toga right now you would, as rage twists with a throbbing pain in your chest. Was all this worth having a mobster roommate? The odds were piling against her. You have a mind to push her in the lake when you get there.

Several silent minutes go by with you staring up at the cloudy sky. It’s brighter from the illuminating white snow, and despite the icy powder prickling your flesh, you have no choice but to wait for the ache in your chest to fade.

“Enjoying the view?”

You hear a new voice, male, and the suave tone tells you who it is before he treads near. He looks over you with half lidded eyes of honey gold.

He’s very pretty. The drifting snow flakes above his wheat coloured head manage to enhance this, though the uplifted eyes lined in black, and nicely sharp features are the last thing you want to see. You’re nowhere near ready to start lying out of Toga’s mess.

“That can’t be too comfy down there,” Keigo says, bending forward with an outstretched hand,“C’mon, upsy-daisy.”

You take his hand, feeling another leather glove hold your waist and lift you onto your feet. When you settle, he starts brushing the caked snow off your back. Mobster or not, he’s at least a gentleman.

“You alright?” he asks, giving you a once over for any fresh scratches.

You give a slow nod, crossing your arms over your chest. Fear’s got the better of you, and you look anywhere but him., “What are you doing here? I thought you were working tonight.”

“Oh I am! You could say I’m on patrol, need to pick up a few things.”

Your gaze stills to your left, heart skipping. Keigo’s not alone. Standing nearby, a slim figure dressed in black from head to toe is watching you two lazily. A thread of smoke seeps from his parted lips, clouding a handsome face and spikes of black hair. Keigo keeps talking, but you can’t take your eyes off the ghostly presence you know to be Dabi.

“Unfortunately that includes loverboy. He was supposed to be back hours ago, but we figured he’s still fooling around,” a little smirk tugs at his mouth, suggestively “He’s still inside, right?”

You blink, turning back to face Keigo, “I wouldn’t know, I just got home,” you lie.

“Look at you! You look like you’re about to freeze to death.” He starts suddenly, swiftly slipping his arms out from his heavy coat, revealing a black three piece with pinstripes, and a brighter crimson tie. In one smooth motion he twirls the long, beige coat over your shoulders, letting it rest over your figure.

“Thank you,” you say, before your eyes catch something.

Dabi moves towards the clumsy skid marks, head tilting down to the red dots in the snow near his polished shoe. You stiffen.

“You sure you’re okay?”

Your gaze flashes from Dabi’s retreating back to a politely smiling Keigo, “Yeah, I’m fine! I’m really cold is all.”

“Well, we should get you inside. You know you left your door wide open?” Shit, the door. You forgot about the stupid door—

(Dabi looms across the indents in the snow and follows down the hill like a dark shadow against crystals illuminating bright.)

“Ah yeah, I thought I left my purse in the car. It was just for a second, and then I slipped,” You force a smile. Relax. You need to relax. Keigo doesn’t seem convinced, reading something off in your features.

“Is that right?”

(He gets the edge of the old Ford, and notes the specks of red soak wider here. The spots lead underneath.)

“I know, it’s pretty foolish. It’s um...It’s a good thing you showed up when you did, or...”

Your eyes drift over Keigo’s shoulder. The underboss starts to crouch low. Your pupils shrink, a new wave of panic tingles the back of your neck. Damn him, why was he so clever?

“Dabi, wait!” you shout, pushing past Keigo’s shoulder. In your hurry you kick up the snowy crystals, rushing to the taller mobster in his long obsidian coat. Dabi quickly turns, standing up.tall before you hook onto his upper arm like a lover. “I saw an animal go under there that looked hurt. You shouldn’t mess with it.”

A smirk that breaks into a grin spreads on his face, a look of amusement blooming from your look of fright. You want to glare at him, though that could be dangerous. Why does he like seeing you scared?

“An animal, you say?” he parrots back, adopting the same mocking pitch you gave Toga earlier. He’s not in the least bit on edge, and you really don’t like that. He flicks his teal eyes up to look behind you just then, “Good thing I have the city’s best exterminator right here.”

As if on cue, you hear the crunching boots of Keigo walking to the car. “Give me a break with the dirty work, will ya?”

“What, scared of a little pest?” Dabi taunts back coolly.

“I’m not too fond of getting my knees wet, actually,” Keigo returns quite dryly, sharp eyes studying the long pattern marks. He places his gloved hands on his thighs and drops himself to a crouch in front of the vehicle.

You desperately hope Toga proves you wrong. Maybe she had the common sense to bail while no one was looking. It’s all you can do at this point, while Keigo dips his head underneath. You don��t realize, but your grip on Dabi’s arm presses tighter into the wool.

Keigo inspects below for a moment. There’s a long pause like a winter evening should be. Silent. Calming. You can almost believe in the soothing little lie. Then Keigo coughs a laugh that echoes through the street. Bursts of manic giggles grow louder from the mobster, leaving you tilting your head at his pushed back hair, confused.

“There’s a pest, alright! I think I caught something—“

Keigo reaches under, and with an impressively strong yank, Toga’s head pops out in a doe eyed stare. Her arms are wrapped around a bundled rug with a fairly familiar head sticking out.

“Hey there, Toga!” Keigo exclaims, “When did you become a rat?”

Dabi tips his head down, drawing the lit cigarette back to his lazy smile. He’s shockingly calm which does nothing to ease your shivering panic. Toga however, seems fine. In fact, she’s moved on to livelier feelings.

“Hey! Does it look like a rat could’ve done this?!” she snaps, shaking the body in her arms. It bangs against the bottom of the car sending loud echoes through the nearly empty street. Specks of blood dribble on the white ground, and a couple more drops spray her cheeks.

You stare up at the clouds, rolling your eyes. Goddamnit Toga.

“Yeah, I guess a rat can’t hold a knife, huh? Ya got me there.” Keigo turns and beams you a smug look, eyes half lidded in an expression that reads, nice try, but you failed.

You scrunch your nose, quietly shooting him back a glare. Asshole might’ve caught you both red handed, but he didn’t have to be so fucking cocky about it. It’s only charming when he has a winning hand at cards. Beside you, Dabi’s shoulders shake with silent laughter, though you don’t have the guts to flash him the same glower. He is second in command after all.

“Yeah, see? That’s what I thought!” Toga says in victory.

You blink very, very slowly at Toga when she finally meets your vastly unamused gaze,“...Nice work, Toga.”

It comes suddenly. A fiery warmth ghosts the dip in your waist as Dabi leans in. It’s not unwelcomed, raw and soothing even, but it hardly lasts. His hand curls around Keigo’s coat collar and pulls it off your shoulders. The crisp wind rushes to your exposed arms.

“You got any rat poison on you, Hawks?” Dabi tosses the coat to Keigo.

He catches it mid air as he rises to stand. “Nah, fresh out. But we have some back at the house.”

“You want to take care of our rat problem then?”

“Can do, boss man.”

Before you can figure out what they mean–what they have planned for Toga–Dabi’s pristine leather glove presses at the small of your back and directs you toward the pouring light of the open door. “Don’t wait up.”

It’s barely there, but as you shift your eyes to Keigo, his features take on a darkened look toward Dabi.

“Play nice, now,” you hear Keigo say. This time though, the joyous tone is gone.

A new song hums on the radio when you’re pushed through the threshold, you listen to the richly solemn blues as Dabi closes the door. He turns the lock with a click and pockets the key.

“I forgive you

'Cause I can't forget you.

You've got me in between the devil and the deep blue sea”

He doesn’t give you a passing glance, instead he turns and strolls down the freshly bare hall. He hasn’t removed his coat, and each room he passes he tilts his head in to search for something, stopping by the parlor. With a twist of a knob, he shuts off the radio.

“Where’d she ice him?” he asks, still not looking at you by the stairwell.

“In the kitchen.” You return. No point in hiding it now.

His steps creak the wood as he ambles further down, knowing full well where to go. He’s been here a handful of times; of course, those were happier evenings filled with drunken laughs.

You watch him stand by the doorway, staring at the vibrant mess of a crime scene. He pops the tip of his cigarette in his mouth before slipping from your line of sight. Dabi’s got the key to the door, so it’s not like you can run away—especially with Keigo just outside. It’s too risky to try and you know it, but it does cross your mind.

Summing up the courage, you decide to follow Dabi with measured steps, “What are you going to do with Toga?”

When you face the kitchen, Dabi’s near the table where you threw your coat. He has a hand in one of your pockets, and he’s fishing for something inside. It jingles in his grip as he stuffs it into his own pocket. Your car keys.

“Are you going to kill her?” you try again, a little irked he’s swiping your things left and right. He doesn’t release your coat either, laying it over the crook of his elbow.

He draws a final inhale from the dying bud, and crosses to the sink to snuff it out. An exhale of smoke blows out from his lips, “Killing her seems like a favor, don’t you think?”

“I thought it was the other way around.”

He turns, flicking teal eyes sheening with energy at you, “That lunatic’s no longer your concern. Right now, you ought to be more worried about yourself.”

Your features go taut, which in turn makes Dabi’s sadistic smirk return.

“I didn’t help her kill him.”

“No,” he agrees, taking a few strides around the blood to approach you,“but you were willing to stash the stiff.”

“Yeah, for this very reason. I didn’t want you coming after me!”

Dabi draws dangerously close, mere inches apart as he glances down with lidded eyes, the smell of tobacco perfumes from his shirt collar nestled under a violet tie. He crooks his index finger, embellished with a silver ring, ghosting it under your chin. “How’d that turn out for you, babydoll?”

With a ruthless smile, he breaks the fixed stare and rounds you to the hallway. He seems to be making his way towards the parlor again, but the swish of your peacoat in his arm, set you off.

How dare he? You don’t like how he’s walked inside, claiming what’s yours. You might have your life screwed over, but at the very least you want your coat back as some semblance of control.

You stalk after him, picking up pace to aim for his arm. The clacks of your heels are loud, but you currently couldn’t care less about being sneaky, “Give it fucking back. You’re not keeping that!”

You lunge for the black wool, but as your fingers brush the material on his left elbow, Dabi whips the coat, rotating arms. You’re not fast enough, but you try a second reach for his right arm, huffing out a growl at his stealthy reflexes.

“Dabi, I’m serious! You’re such a—”

In a twirling motion his newly free palm shoves at your shoulder, pinning you against the stairwell’s wall. He’s close, so close, the blue flames in his eyes are absurdly intense.

“That makes two of us. You’ll get this back when I say so.”

His voice is low, soft lips almost connecting to yours. You tilt your chin up, glaring at him with fearful, tentative eyes. His gaze flashes with mirth, and he huffs a small laugh at you.

“I’ve always liked this about you. That spark inside you.” He muses. The peacoat spills to the floor. Dabi lifts his slender fingers, pushing back a loose curl from your cheek.

Your stomach flips, as shocks tickle your skin. There’s been subtle flirting between you two before. You just wrote it off as overthinking the moment. Even though he only called you, babydoll, and he sat next to you at gatherings. How he filled your glass with water instead of booze as the nights waned. Now, you feel foolish for denying the little signs.

“You have a horrible way of showing girls you like ‘em,” you counter back, your voice’s quiet but leveled.

“Yeah?” he asks. The arm holding your shoulder tightens, while the other lowers to collect your long skirt. He traces his knuckles on the soft flesh of your thigh. As his hand trails up, his eyes remain fixed on your facial features. “Maybe this will help.”

His slim fingers reach the cotton slip, and it’s easy to pull off to the side, exposing the lips of your warmth. He tests the waters, sweeping the tips of his fingers across your folds. Your mouth parts in a breathless hitch in your throat. Dabi parts his own lips drawing near, ‘til his lips touch yours but not quite pressing together yet. His pierced nose bumps yours.

“Now here’s what’s going to happen,” he starts, just before sinking two fingers between your folds, pumping deep and slow inside. “You’ll go upstairs and pack what you need. When you come down—”

He thrusts particularly hard into you, sending a gasping moan to fall from your open mouth. His voice remains calm, a hint of glee can be detected. Fucking bastard.

“—You’ll be leaving with me. You’ll work for me...Live with me…And you’ll do everything I say. You got it, babydoll?”

He adds a third finger, soaking his knuckles deep with your slick. He’s hitting the right spots, the perfectly deep pressure. Your attention turns hazy as wakes of pleasure tighten just below your stomach. Your hips buck against his thrusting hand, yet still, you manage to nod your head.

Moans flutter from your lips and vibrate onto his smiling one. To heighten the pleasure he begins swirling your wet clit. “Ah, Dabi...Oh god, Dabi—”

He slows his fingers suddenly, which makes you cry out. He pretends to ignore it. “If you try to escape me...I will hunt you down and hurt you in ways that will marr that pretty skin of yours. I’ll make you scream so loud, and no one will be there to save you. Tell me you understand.”

He curls his knuckles, pressing into a rough spot at the top, pumping fiercely against your slippery, muscular walls. You cry out, squeezing at his shirt collar and coat. “Fuck—I understand, I understand! Baby, right there, ah!”

Dabi gives you no mercy. He tugs and twirls the bud of sensitive nerves, swirling with driven circles that clench your walls in wonderous pressure. You’re close, he’s so close to sending you in high bliss. Your moans get heavier, and your clenching more and more and—

He removes his fingers. Another cry of protest sobs from your mouth only to be swallowed by Dabi’s lips on yours. His tongue massages the moans from your breath, his scent of cigarettes and smoke immerse your senses as you drown in the kiss.

He slowly breaks apart with a wet sound, looking deeply in your lust-glossed eyes. His voice is low and arousingly husky. “Now get your things.”

Before you know it, Dabi pulls away from your shoulders, and turns for the parlor. You try catching your breath, watching his slim, muscular back...Did that happen? Did he rob you of everything? Your home, your life, your orgasm?

Eventually, with light steps you do as you’re told, and turn to climb up the stairs. What choice do you have? He has your life in the palm of his hand. And right before you make it to the top, your hand drawn on the railing, the spinning clicks of your house phone perk your ear.

A long pause. Then finally, Dabi’s rich voice speaks up from the parlor,

“Hey, I’ll be needing a few guys at Togas...Yeah, we found him….Toga did him in pretty good...No, we’ll need the good bleach for cleanup.”

***

P.S, this might be a mini series 👀

#dabi x reader #touya todoroki x reader #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #dabi #touya todoroki #my hero academia fanfiction #boku no hero academia fanfics #mafia!dabi #tw blackmail #tw blood #keigo takami #bnha x reader #the smut pile #tw dubcon #shadow tales

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potter-imagines · 3 years

Text

Meadow (George Weasley x Reader)

Prompt: Hi, maybe fred or george (you can choose) and the reader are spending the afternoon in a flower meadow together? (sorry for my english, it's not my first language)🙈😊

Notes: okay I'm sure spring break isn't a thing at hogwarts but for this write, it is . hope you enjoy !!

Warnings: none, just a lot of fluff cause everyone loves george

Word Count: 3.5k

Spring break was winding down to a close as early April broke through. New life was brought to fruition as the snow from the harsh winter evaporated into the ground. Outside the grounds of the Weasley’s home were fields and fields of open land. Flowers sprouted in every step creating a kaleidoscope of colors. Those tumbling plains seemed to extend for miles beyond the horizon. Just beyond those grassy hills and slopes was a large, secluded meadow.

It was the early hours of a Saturday morning when a pair invaded the area far before the sun began to rise. The meadow Y/n and George had been occupying seemed to be the perfect location to view the birth of the new season. The perfect spot to enjoy each other’s company. Soon they would be ushered back to Kings Cross and board the Hogwarts Express- George for his last time and Y/n, well it certainly wouldn’t be her last time, no matter how hard she dreamed it was. The topic of George leaving Hogwarts was one the couple tip-toed around. Break was only two weeks but that meant two extra weeks for the pair to be together. With the school year tumbling to an end, George would be leaving school soon with his brother to start his dream and Y/n would be stuck needing to finish her last year at Hogwarts alone. The girl was a year below her boyfriend and although it never caused any friction for the pair, the gap was finally giving them issues.

In George’s mind, arriving to his last school year was both an accomplishment, and a burden. As excited as he was to finally leave those stone walls that held him back, the last thing he wanted was to leave her behind. It didn’t make any of the pain easier knowing that he’d be leaving alongside Fred earlier than the rest of their classmates. Y/n had been the only other living soul Fred and George had filled in on their grand exit plan. They needed someone to keep guard and be a lookout so who better than the one person they trusted not to run their mouth.

There was a heavy smell of earth in the air, mixed with the faint odor of new growth. The vivid green leaves and the cheerful colors of the blossoms are a feast. Flowers popped up from the soiled ground and the fruit hanging from the trees were starting to come to life.

The couple had spent a good portion of their break at the secluded meadow. In a way, it became their little secret spot. Not that it was a secret location by any means. Fred and George had discovered the meadow a few years back when they had ventured miles away from the burrow. The boys were always adventurous, especially when Molly and Arthur finally allowed them free range outside the family home when they were eleven. There were miles and miles of tall grass and woodland that made it easy to get lost. Of course with Fred and George, losing their way was never a worry. When the boys stumbled upon the breathtaking meadow, George seemed to be the only one interested in their find. Fred had wandered off into the section of forest they entered through, his attention captured by a group of baby deer camouflage in the woods. For years George would wander back to the meadow on his own when he needed a break from the loudness of his siblings or grew tired of Ron trailing on his coattails every turn. He promised himself he would keep the spot to himself, let it be his own private sanctuary. This plan ran smooth for a few years before George made the exception to break the rule for one person only.

But for now, the two could only take advantage of the time they had together and they didn’t intend to spend a second apart. It looked as if Y/n and George had stepped straight into a storybook. The grass was Eden-green and thigh-high to a thrush. A neon-blue ribbon of river ran through the ground in a squiggle line. A party of bright yellow ducklings scattered in the calm water, small quacks filling the air. Chirping and sweet songs from the birds made that feeling of Spring become a reality. Buzzing bumble bees and wildflowers sprung along the land. The sounds of nature engulfed the girl whole as she melted into the soft grass.

“I could stay here for the rest of my life- away from people, away from the world. It’s peaceful.” Y/n hummed softly. Her large doe eyes observed the clouds that formed a perfect line-up in the baby blue sky, as if they were boats safely moored in celestial harbour. Peeks of sunlight seeped in through the cracks in the fluffy clouds casting a shimmering light as they danced slowly by in the sky. Just a moment before she was listing off all the animals and objects she saw in the sky. Now she was considering the thought of staring at them forever.

George stole a quick glance down where she laid in his lap. Strands of her h/c hair flowing across his legs and hands. It tickled against his skin as a light breeze swept past. Her abrupt words had caught him off guard. He had missed the sound of her voice for the last hour, although adored the trance-like state of happiness that she was in so he was constantly biting his tongue to keep his thoughts from pouring out. Now that she was somewhat back to earth, he was eager to chat. Tilting his head in her direction George raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah?” He questioned.

A smile graced her lips as she nodded in confirmation. The land was beautiful, unlike anything she had seen. There certainly weren’t any meadows with such serenity as this in the city of London. For once in her life she could hear the sound of her heart beating in the quietness of the open land and she loved it. No cars honking, no crabby cityfolk shoving their way through crowds, no taxi drivers screaming at pedestrians to move, no bright lights, just nature and all of its creations.

Extending her arm, Y/n pointed out to the land. George followed her direction to see she was gesturing to a small section of the meadow that was surrounded by an eyecatching army of poppies and bellflowers. A large willow tree stood towering over the side. In the middle was a bare section- large enough for a home to fit. Y/n grinned in excitement as she suddenly sat up straight.

“Yeah. Build a little cottage, start a garden, maybe even a family… I think it would be lovely.” She said dreamily. Her eyes looked up to George in wonder, silently asking him to share his opinion. Mirroring her previous actions, George scanned the meadow. He placed his hand against his chin, pretending to think long and hard about her idea. Y/n giggled besides him and shoved him lightly on the shoulder. He chuckled in response and leaned back into the log supporting him. George nodded in agreement to the pondering dream.

There was a casual grace to the meadow, as if it has a peripheral awareness of its own beauty yet would rather be at peace in this warm sun. It was quaint and humble yet glowing in - like a glorious mansion hidden away in a forest. A hidden gem that was to be kept away from the rest of society. Their own little happy place that opened and bloomed just for them. There was something so magical about the meadow that George couldn’t pass it up. It felt like fate leading him there- leading them.

“Think we could make that work. The family part is a definante- it’s just building a home that’ll take a bit of time. We could get started on making a family of our own right now-” George was cut off when a hand clamped over his mouth. Although he was only joking, he wouldn’t be opposed to the idea.

“George-” She warned playfully.

“Or in a few years. But living out here would be nice. ‘S not like I got to worry about commuting for work. It’d be a nice escape from the shop once we get business running, and once you graduate. Not to mention moving out here would mean I’d get to see more of you in that pretty dress. Flowers in your hair... you look so enchanting, darling.” A bashfulness struck Y/n to her core at his words. Her eyes instinctively shot down to the grass as a paint of red rose to her face. George’s heart quite literally stuttered at her reaction. Making her blush, seeing her smile because of something he said never failed to bring a sense of happiness to George. That damn smile, he thought to himself. He was sure she could convince him of anything when that innocent look took over. It was natural for her. Y/n was simply ethereal in every way.

His hand brushed as gently as a feather across the skin of her cheek. Pushing the daisy back in place behind her ear, George drew his hand down from her ear to her neck. Gripping her softly George pulled her towards his body, lessening the space between the pair. Dipping his head he leaned in towards the girl until their lips were only inches apart. He smirked teasingly, ready to make a remark when Y/n took matters into her own hands.

Linking her hand around his chin she pulled his face in hers with a deep kiss. Although she initiated the gesture, it was George’s response that made her lose all sense of control. His large hands moved from her face to her waist in an instant. Much to Y/n’s surprise he lifted her without warning, still holding her lips in his, and placed her in his lap so she was facing him. Her hands instinctively switched to wrap around his neck for stability. Fingers gripped at his short ginger locks as she adjusted her hips into his.

Y/n’s heart pounded in her chest as her entire body got weaker. She could only focus on how soft he felt against her mouth, how addictively he invaded all her senses. Everytime their lips met a rush of adrenaline and love ran through her veins. The muscles in her body went limp at his touch, jelly like. George held a tight lock around her waist keeping her steady against him. He slipped his tongue against her mouth, visibly shuddering when she slid her tongue against his in return. Tension was pooling by the second as the kiss intensified. Y/n’s strawberry dress cascaded down the side of legs as she repositioned in his lap earning a groan from George. Hot breath fanned against her face briefly at her movements. His hand darted from the small of her back to the exposed skin on her upper thigh, pushing her further into his body. The vibration of his voice against her lips and the tight grip of his hands on her thighs sent shivers down her spine. His kiss was sweet, like a long awaited embrace. Stars blurred her vision as George gripped her against his chest. The moment was quickly turning into a not so innocent kiss causing Y/n to slowly detach her lips from his. As she pulled away she remained sat in his lap, fingers brushing along the skin of his face as she admired his beauty. A smug smile was displayed on his face while he repositioned his hands behind his body to hold the pair up. Still holding his face in her palms, Y/n pressed forward to scatter a line of kisses on his cheeks. He chuckled in amusement before her kiss latched to his mouth once more. Between short and passionate pecks she fought for words to tell him how much he meant to her. She wanted to tell him all the emotions of love and desire he brought onto her. Tell him how she could never live with another- how he was the only one she wanted for the rest of her life.

“You’re too good to me, George.” She whispered against his lips. The lack of space between them was intoxicating. Heat emanated from George’s cheeks as he desperately attempted to regain his breath and compose himself. His chest was light with air caused by the sweetness of the girl before him. A small smear of glitter lip gloss covered his bottom lip in a shine.

George tasted a hint of bubble gum as his tongue swept along the skin of his bottom lip.

“I’d give you the whole world if I could but I’m afraid I don’t have the coins for that yet, princess.” Pressing his forehead against hers, George hummed the words. Y/n shook her head with a smile as she countered his grand proposition with one of her own.

“All I need is a quaint, cozy cottage out here and you… well a dog or a kitten would be nice too.” She laughed.

George could only stare at her in that moment. Her words registered although the naturalness to her beauty was too much for him to process. The sun hit her back in with such purpose it was as if she were an angel breaking through the sky. Her strawberry midi dress flowed down her sides and pooled in between his legs. Pretty pink satin clung to her form. The sparkling red strawberries fitted her perfectly. The ruffles on her shoulders gave her the look of a cottage princess, a fairy even. Hair flowing freely in the wind, it was a sight he’d never grow tired of seeing. He’d never seen someone as breathtaking as her.

Taking advantage of his silence, Y/n looked up to George in seriousness. His large brown eyes stared lovingly back to her. Gesturing to the meadow surrounding them, Y/n asked him,

“Do you think you’d be happy out here?”

George tore his stare from the girl to scope out the land once more. All the years he spent wandering down here alone in his mind and looking for some sort of answer to life, now he had found it. He could already picture where he would build a playset for the children and where he’d be able to make a small Quidditch pitch to teach your future kids. Ideas were forming for the house and how many rooms you’d both want. George was thinking somewhere around eight- extra room for more kids. Mapped out where the house would go, where he’d build a garden for you, figured out what tree would be perfect for him to put together a treehouse with Fred for the kids, and where the path would go towards the lake. The layout was quickly forming and he wanted in.

Y/n watched in curiosity as the thoughts swarmed through her lover’s head. She could see him intently thinking things over, then smiling before tilting his face back down at the girl. His head moved down so his lips could press against the skin of her forehead as he kissed her.

“Darling, as long as I’m with you, I’ll be more than happy.” He reassured her.

Y/n melted into the warmth provided by his lips. Her body leaned into his, desperate for more of him. George wrapped his arm around her shoulder tightly and fixed his body so he was sitting tall. She clung to his frame like a koala to a tree, burying her face into the material of his hoodie.

“Once I graduate?” Her muffled voice vibrated against his sternum. George ran his fingers up and down her spine as he held her tight.

“Once you graduate.” George repeated sincerely. Although they’d gone over the conversation a million different times, Y/n couldn’t help the shadow of doubts that crept into her mind. She trusted George with all her heart- every inch of her being but they’d be living in two separate worlds for a year and she worried that was something he might not want. Maybe he would realize he wanted to be with a girl his age, or someone older, someone not stuck at Hogwarts. Even without reason for worry, it still came.

Remaining in his hold yet moving back slightly, Y/n’s eyes darted to the flower covered ground. Her fingers ran along the petals absentmindedly as she worked to find the courage to speak. Her shift in emotions did not go unnoticed by the boy. George focused on the look of contemplation adorning her. As adorable as she looked, he hated seeing her in the slightest bit of distress. This went for any situation whether Y/n was stressed about a class, feeling ill, or just sad because she’s hungry, George does everything in his control to fix it for her.

“You’ll wait for me?” The sudden question took George aback. Her tone was a mix of innocence and fear. His confusion arose for the grave manner of her inquiry. Even if her worries were astonishingly unworldly to George, he knew better than to shut down her insecurities brashly. If the topic at hand weren’t so significant to their relationship, he might even crack a joke. However the seriousness in her features was not to be ignored.

George reached out to interlock his fingers through her warm hands. That comforting smile of his graced his face as he brought her knuckles up to his lips and placed a trial of kisses along the bones.

“Of course I’ll wait, love. No other girl I’d want to spend the rest of my life with- no other girl I want to call my wife, the mother of my children. No one but you, my love.” George insisted. It seemed magical to Y/n the way he always knew exactly what to say. Always so heartfelt and honest in meaning. He never told her a lie to make her happy but somehow managed to piece together a perfect string of words to make her whole again. Something in the way he spoke, in his words, it made her believe nearly anything was plausible. Most of all, she trusted him and believed that he had every intention of sticking around, which brought a sneaking grin to Y/n’s face. All those worries washed away at his words. It was a part she loved deeply about him.

The feeling of George’s touch smoothing over the bottom of her pink dress pulled Y/n back to the meadow. The scent of lavender and vanilla wafted past his nose from the perfume he had gifted her for Christmas. His fingers would skim against her bare leg in a teasing fashion as he smirked. Y/n let out a giggle at the tickling sensation of his touch. Her arms wrapped around his neck for support while her bashful grin never ceased.

“There’s that pretty smile.” George remarked with a chuckle. A sense of victory took hold of him at seeing her worries vanish. Arms locked around his neck, Y/n pulled him towards her as her head fell to his chest. Given their limited time, all the couple wanted to do for the next month was be in each other’s arms. George cherished every opportunity he got to hold her, knowing he’d spend the next year missing her everyday. It came in the little things as well like the way her hair always smelled like a basket of delicious fruits, or how she’d hum to herself while they were studying together. He already knew he’d spend most days babbling on to Fred about how much he missed Y/n. Break was almost over which meant the twins would be leaving Hogwarts for good within a few weeks. Y/n dreaded the idea of not seeing George every day, not getting to kiss him or hug him. George hated thinking about having to hear from her through letters and not getting to hear that sweet laughter every day. So for now, all George wanted was to hold his girl and enjoy the excitement for their future he felt budding inside of him.

The colors in the sky were starting to grow brighter by the minute and without saying it, the pair both knew they’d be needing to head back to The Burrow for lunch sooner then they’d care to admit. In the serenity of the meadows the couple found a sense of home. Y/n soaked in their last bits of time in the meadow before George mentioned them heading back. Although neither moved at his words but instead remained holding onto one another.

“I love you, George.”

“I love you more, princess.”

204 notes · View notes

sytco · 3 years

Text

common blessings [joochan]

pairing: childhood friend!hong joochan x reader

word count: 3.5k (!)

requested: "toothrotting fluff ft. joochan"

dedicated to @sahiflowers.

a/n: im SO SO sorry this took so long and i hope u like it even a little and that it makes u smile thank u for being so patient ily!! ily!!! reminder im always here for u!!

In which you find that time is meaningless when Joochan is not by your side.

wonderboy.

Sometimes, you speculate whether Joochan has some kind of genius for finding you as soon as the school bell rings, signalling the end of another day.

Today, he surprises you behind the auditorium where you lean against a maple tree, hugging your bag to your chest, because you’ve skipped your last period (Introduction to Psychology) in favor of lying on the grass so you can watch the clouds in peace. And Joochan smiles a fond, fond smile because you have that look on your face again that you only get when you’re lost in thought.

“Missed me?”

You tense from shock before relaxing at the sight of your boyfriend who widens his arms so you can walk right into them.

“How’d you find me?” Your voice is muffled in the fabric of his vest and Joochan reaches up so he can play with the back of your collar.

“Just had a little hunch you might be here.” And this is the answer he always gives, accompanied with the same smug smile each time.

You pout even if Joochan can’t see it. “That doesn’t explain anything.”

“Well now,” he says in an affected voice that sounds like the narrator from that National Geographic documentary on penguins the two of you watched last week, “I can’t afford to have you getting your hands on all my secrets, can I? I’ve got to keep some things to myself so that in ten year's time, you’ll still think I’m the most amazing and magical boy in the universe.”

It’s ridiculous, you think, how it’s nearly winter but the way you can feel the laughter that starts in his chest and electrifies you to your fingertips is more than capable of keeping you warm and making you feel like you’re really alive.

“Doesn’t matter if I find out all your secrets or not,” you mumble, “you’ll always be the most amazing and magical boy in the universe to me.”

From the courtyard around the corner, you can hear Jaehyun shouting a loud “Oi Joochan!”.

Joochan ignores him and instead casually pecks your cheek with a kiss that feels like a blessing. “Always?”

You tilt your head as though unsure. "Well… for at least fifty years, probably.”

“Fifty?!” Joochan echoes in mock outrage, and you playfully poke his side to which he flinches slightly.

“I was lying. I meant for all of time ever.”

And despite him doing his best to hide it, your boyfriend melts instantly, burying his face in the crook of your neck where he’s probably smiling his brilliant smile that feels like the sun against your skin.

Jaehyun’s voice interrupts the peace and quiet once again with a noticeably louder and more panicked tone.

“Hong Joochan! We’re going to be late for soccer practice!”

Joochan groans exaggeratedly and you can’t help but giggle at his theatrics. “Wish I didn’t have to go to stupid practice,” he grumbles.

“You know, I’ll wait for you in the library until you’re done,” you offer and Joochan perks up - if only slightly because your arms still feel like heaven after years of loving you, and two hours of kicking a ball around (while Donghyun and Jibeom brainstorm inventive ways to trip each other up, much to Coach Lee’s chagrin) just can’t compete. He tells you as much in the way his arms tighten around you.

“You’re the best,” Joochan declares suddenly, “I might be the most amazing and magical boy in the universe, but you’re the best.”

You snort. “Go to practice already before Jaehyun starts going spare, wonderboy.”

Joochan kisses your forehead one last time before he detaches himself from you with a dejected sigh and picks up your bag, slinging it over his shoulder despite your protests. “Walk with me to the oval?”

You slip your hand into his hand only to find it a perfect fit and wonder briefly if there is anywhere in this world you would not walk to with Hong Joochan, the boy who has a smile like sunlight and a personality like a billion shooting stars.

“Of course.”

fm.

There is the occasional moment in which you wish that your boyfriend wasn’t so exceedingly talented in nearly every field he tries his hand at, because the various extracurriculars that Joochan (being the naturally energetic and enthusiastic person he is) involves himself with have an awful way of making tremendous demands on his time towards the end of the semester.

Right now is one of those moments when Joochan trudges into your room and dives face first onto your bed without even bothering to shake his coat off. “So what was it today?” you ask in a voice that betrays your concern and Joochan can’t help but smile at it.

“Theatre rehearsal,” he yawns, “then string quartet practice. Also an hour of soccer drills with some of the boys. Even though it’s a Saturday.”

You get up from your chair at the desk so you can sit on the bed where Joochan immediately moves his head onto your lap, lifting your hand and resting it on his hair. You absentmindedly start stroking it, staring out the window at a soft grey sky.

“Did you eat?”

Joochan shakes his head. “No time. My dumb E string broke again so I barely managed to have half an apple before we went straight into a new Mozart piece today. Think we might perform it at the next concert. You’d come, right?” And he asks that in a self-assured tone, because he already knows what your answer is going to be.

You give it to him anyway because there’s no point in hiding your blatant admiration for all that he does. “No matter what.”

“And just to see me, right?”

You fake a pause that has Joochan peering up at you suspiciously.

“You do know I have friends who aren’t you that are participating in the concert, right? Like Jangjun and Sungyoon?”

Joochan scowls. “But none of those hooligans are your boyfriend, who - in case you forgot but I do know you’d never - is me.”

“That’s quite true,” you concede before leaning down to kiss his cheek with a smile that makes Joochan’s stomach fill with butterflies which are probably colored pink and green and blue. It never gets old, he thinks: your talent for turning his world upside down in a look or a word or an action. And you don’t even know you’re doing it most of the time.

“Mean,” he accuses but in a half-hearted manner and your smile only widens because you know that Joochan is supremely happy despite his exhaustion, if the way his brow has smoothed completely and he has started drawing little stars on your knee is anything to go by.

There’s a gentle lull in the conversation while you continue to run your fingers through Joochan’s hair, and especially his fringe. It’s almost as though time has passed you by, leaving you together in your own little reality where things like hazy futures and big concerts and broken violin strings do not dare draw near.

“Wanna order something later on for dinner?” you ask quietly.

“Maybe,” he grins through closed eyes, “but nap first.”

Your radio continues to run, and you drift in and out of listening to the DJ duo while watching the rain finally fall outside.

“It’s been pretty cold recently, hasn’t it?” one of the DJs opens the conversation after a small stream of ads.

“Sure has, pal. And speaking of the cold, apparently our first snow of the season is scheduled for next week Friday!”

“So do you have any plans lined up with a special someone?”

“Just had to remind me of how single I am, didn’t you”- rambunctious peals of laughter crackle from the speakers - “but maybe some of our lovely listeners will send in their plans for next Friday.”

“I sure did - and wow, they’re already pouring in! Do you wanna read one out?”

“Let’s see… Listener ha_miii_ran says: ‘I’m planning on confessing to my crush of two years. I’m pretty nervous about this so I’m hoping the two of you will wish me luck!’ All the best of luck to you, Ha Miran-nim, from the both of us. I don’t know how you’re planning on it, but hopefully the first snow will act as a good luck charm for you!”

“Yeah, good luck Ha Miran-nim!” the other DJ chimes in. “Be sure to update us on how it goes!”

“Well, we’ll be back with some more stories after this excerpt from a famous piano concerto - maybe some of our more classically-inclined audience will recognise its globally renowned composer.”

A beautiful melody begins to play and you’re on the cusp of losing yourself in the music when you are most abruptly interrupted by a sleepy, but decisive, “Gershwin.”

You blink down at Joochan. “What?”

“It’s Gershwin. The composer. Don't you think your boyfriend's clever for knowing that?"

“I thought my boyfriend was asleep, actually,” and you narrow your eyes.

“I was,” Joochan protests, “I only woke up when they were talking about the snow or something. And then they talked about that person who’s confessing to their crush of two years - got me thinking about how I can relate because I vividly remember having a crush on you for at least three before I could muster up the courage to confess. Which ended up working out for the best, you know,” he adds in a thoughtful tone, “but sometimes I’d get so nervous just thinking about it that I couldn’t sleep at all. Anyways, I’m really hungry now, so can we order something soon please?”

Maybe it’s the way he so nonchalantly wears his heart for you on his sleeve, or maybe it’s the way he looks at you as though you have strung the Milky Way itself together and made a gift of it to him. Maybe it’s the way you simply realize that you might not be able to live with yourself if you were to lose your boyfriend, ever. But for whatever reason it is, a thousand smiles bloom in your heart and you lean down to give Joochan a kiss that hopefully tastes like everything you cannot possibly put into words.

“Anything you want,” you whisper, and Joochan draws a heart on your knee in response.

enchanted.

You’re outside the auditorium again but in front of it, this time, and not behind. The post-concert hubbub has died down, mostly owing to the fact that much of the audience has left already whether it’s to a late congratulatory supper or down to the boardwalk where fireworks are scheduled to go off at midnight. The bouquet of lily of the valleys in your hand trembles slightly as you use your other hand to fumble around for your ringing phone.

“Hello?”

“You’re waiting outside, right?” Joochan asks.

“Yeah, I am.”

“See, Donghyun, I told you I was right about - wait. Wait! Don't move!”

And then you have less than two seconds to process exactly what is happening before your boyfriend catches you up in a running embrace that sends the world spinning in a flurry of snow and stars and kisses that Joochan plants all over your cheeks. He remains blissfully unaware that somewhere in the vicinity, Donghyun has started making gagging sounds at your very public display of affection, punctuated by Jaehyun’s giggling. (You pay them no mind.)

“Did you enjoy the concert?” he asks, fond expectation twinkling in his eyes.

You nod too much. “You were incredible,” you tell him honestly, and Joochan beams.

“I was, wasn’t I?” he says in a satisfied voice as he pulls you closer. “Guess all those hours of practice paid off.”

“It’s almost like that’s the whole point of practicing,” you tease.

“It’s lucky you’re cute and I’m hopelessly in love with you,” Joochan crinkles his nose in contrived distaste for your little jab before hugging you again so he can hear you whisper just how proud you are of him, right into his ear.

And the two of you stay like that for a little before you remember the gift you brought with you.

“For me?” And the look in his eyes reminds you of how he looked at you when you first told him that you loved him too - or maybe of every time you’ve told him that you love him too.

“Who else?”

He snaps up the bouquet, pressing it against his nose and inhaling deeply with a smile. "This is a nice surprise."

"They mean 'return to happiness'," you say, gently touching a little white bloom that looks like a star against the backdrop of Joochan's black school blazer. "Thought it was cute. And the florist was sold out of roses anyway."

Joochan laughs with the warmth of a thousand sunbeams and puts your hand in his so he can start gently tugging you away.

“But your violin”- you begin protesting.

“But nothing,” he shushes you as the school gets smaller and smaller behind you in the distance. “I don’t even want to see that thing for a week. Hey, and guess what - I found a secret place for just you and me so we can watch the fireworks without being pressed up against everyone else like sardines in a tin can.”

“You and I are going to watch the fireworks?” you echo, surprise colouring your voice.

Joochan’s exhale turns into a giggle. “Who else?” And you dig an elbow into his side, hiding a smile at his antics.

The two of you stroll down quiet streets and you lean into your boyfriend’s comforting warmth. Most shops are closed with the exception of some fast food chains and convenience stores, but you notice almost none of them now as Joochan picks up the pace, his excitement bleeding into the quiet song he sings that floats up in the air and is lost somewhere in the stars above.

“Here we are,” says Joochan proudly and he helps you up into the little gazebo at the top of the hill you hadn’t realized you were climbing. “Take this,” he adds as he tosses you a torch that brightly illuminates the space you’re in as soon as you switch it on. You turn to the rustling sounds on your left, finally seeing the wooden bench that Joochan is busy spreading a rug over.

“You planned this beforehand?” And there’s a note of wonder in your voice - the same kind that only Joochan ever seems to be able to evoke. “I thought we were going straight home.”

He gestures for you to sit next to him with a charming smile and you do so immediately. “Told you I can’t give up all the secrecy. Not yet.” Or, he thinks privately to himself, not when you look at him like that.

The golden light from the torch casts long shadows over the grass and gives Joochan’s face a nearly ethereal glow that reminds you of summer sunsets despite the cold. You slip into a soft and easy silence - one that comes from memories built upon memories, resulting in a code made up of gazes and touch that only the two of you will ever understand. And so when he squeezes your hand gently, you instantly open your arms for him to sink right into.

There’s only a few minutes left until midnight when you finally speak.

“Joochan,” you murmur.

“Mm?”

“You ever think about where we’ll be this time next year?”

Joochan shifts his posture slightly. “Often, actually. Especially when I go to sleep at night and think about tomorrow - then I’ll wonder if it’ll even remotely go the way I want it to.”

“And how do you usually want it to go?” you ask.

“Someone has a lot of questions today,” Joochan remarks with a droll look on his face that makes you laugh briefly before his expression sobers. “But usually I want it to go safely. You know? Everything in its proper place and things like that. And more importantly, I want to know all the time that I’ll be able to see you.”

You’re silent for a moment, looking out over the view of the city. If you squint, you can just make out the boardwalk by the beach and the crowds of people who have gathered there, young and old alike. “I’m scared sometimes.”

Joochan frowns. “Scared of what? I’ll fight it off for you,” and he waves a threatening fist at nothing in particular.

“The future, I guess. It sounds silly but… sometimes I don’t know if we’ll always be okay. Like this, the way things are right now. Whether it’s tomorrow or next year or even after that.” Your voice fades in volume until it’s nearly lost against the threads of your scarf, and Joochan’s heart breaks a little when he hears it: the genuine uncertainty and timid fear that seeps past the smile you give him in an effort to hide it.

“Why do you think we might not be okay?”

You look down at your feet, almost embarrassed by your own honesty. “Well, people… change, Joo. They move places, and have goals to achieve and dreams to chase down. And we’re not immune to that either.”

It’s Joochan’s turn to be silent for a bit as he mulls over your words before he straightens in your hold, turning his face towards you so he can affectionately bump his nose against yours. “You’re right,” he says in a voice that mirrors your sadness, “and it would be a lie to say I don’t think about the same things you do. But”- and he leans in to give you a quick kiss that’s shaped like a smile - “it’d also be a lie to say that every dream doesn’t feature you in it. Because every dream of mine that I’ve ever had places you centre stage.”

He kisses you again, a little longer - a little more wistfully.

“You see, the real problem here is that you have me perpetually thinking that I can’t do any of this without you,” he says simply. “Whether it’s late night phone calls or early morning messages; or maybe we’ll find ourselves having to book flights for each other, holding bags full of gifts that remind us of us. And maybe it’ll be hard and maybe I’ll wake up some days, knowing I won’t be able to see you. But that doesn’t mean we won’t be okay.”

You swallow and Joochan watches you carefully, the urgency in his eyes prompting him to lift your chin so you can see it too.

“Even if we change,” he continues in a whisper, hoping you will understand the heart in his words. “And we should. And we will, and we’ll still be okay. You believe me, don’t you? Seeing as I’m the most amazing and magical boy in the universe?”

Somewhere, midnight comes and goes and the fireworks start, dousing you and Joochan in bursts of coloured light.

“Of course I do,” you smile with eyes that glitter with tears of relief and he pulls you into a tight hug, so tight you can feel every movement of his rib cage as he breathes in and out.

For once, you do not feel that fear deep down that threatens to taint your time with the only boy you think you cannot live without. And so you unreservedly hold him in return, fingers running through his hair as he tells you that he loves you, over and over again.

up, up and away.

There had been a time during your childhood when your one greatest wish had been to go see the stars.

So your friend Joochan, in all his clumsy sincerity, had done his best to make you a rocket out of a box he’d found at home. He’d then brought it to your house after he’d finished it, blue marker staining his fingertips and glitter shaped like stars lost in his thick fringe.

The two of you had sat in it together and looked up at the moon, holding hands from childish innocence and recounting thrilling tales of adventures you’d never had. And before having to go home to bed that day, he’d made you a promise that present-day Joochan complains about not being able to fulfill.

“I know I said I’d take you to the stars,” Joochan sighs in displeasure from where he lies on your bed, right next to you, “but while your boyfriend is exceptionally talented, you do know I’m no astronaut, right?”

You hold his hand in response and look into his eyes that sparkle with mirth and deeper in, shine with a love that always gives you peace.

It may be that Joochan will never be able to keep his promise of taking you to space in a real, functioning rocket. But, as you drop a kiss on his mouth that soon widens into a brilliant smile, you can’t find it in yourself to really care.

After all, it’s hard to miss the stars when for you, they all start with Joochan and end with him.

if u liked this please consider dropping a like and reblogging with ur thoughts because feedback is!! always appreciated thank you!!!

#SCREAMS IT'S FINALLY DONE WITH I'M FINALLY FINISHED #golden child #golden child scenarios #golden child imagines #hong joochan #golden child hong joochan #golden child joochan #joochan #ju writes #gncd #golcha #im now off to go cry. or nap. both

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depressedhatakekakashi · 2 years

Text

Our Little Deal

Prompt: Training

Hatake Yua and Akimochi Choza

Words: 742

@narutoocevent

For: @clethan who wanted some Choza Love

Konoha was a beautiful village. With lush green grass, flowers blooming in every available patch of dirt, and warm sunlight shining down on the villagers. For the first time in her life Yua couldn’t spot a mountain of snow, or brown sludge anywhere she looked.

Living in such a beautiful place, she couldn’t help but go out for a walk every day and enjoy the weather. Even if Sakumo told her it would be easier to stay home. That she wouldn’t have to deal with people staring at her and spreading gossip among each other as long as she stayed at the Hatake compound.

There was just so much for her to see. No one could blame her for wanting to explore. If she was going to live in Konoha, she wanted to see every inch of it. The little shops are tucked away in the dark corners of the alleyways. All of the different plants that grew there, and the animals that ran through the streets.

“Yua-San!” Hearing a familiar voice calling out to her, Yua glanced down the path to see Choza running towards her with a bag of chips in hand and a smile on his face.

“I thought you were supposed to be training right now,” Sakumo had informed her that she was meeting up with his team to train for a bit. Even though all three of them were now Jonin, they still liked to spar once in a while to keep their skills sharp, and Sakumo used it as an excuse to check in on his old students. Ensuring they were still working cohesively as a team and assisting them if they weren’t working together perfectly. “Don’t tell me you’re late, Choza.”

“I forgot,” the Akimichi rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, showing more shame for his forgetfulness than either of his teammates ever would. Perhaps that was why Yua liked him the most. He was always such an honest kid. “I’m just hoping Sensei doesn’t scold me over it.”

“Mmm,” usually Yua would remind Choza of the importance of punctuality and training. Perhaps even lecture him a little for allowing such an important event to slip his mind. Today, however, she was feeling a bit nicer. Perhaps because this moment reminded her so much of those rare moments where Mifune would show his vulnerability to her and ask for her guidance. “If he asks about it, tell him I stopped you on the way over to help me with some groceries.”

Of course, now she would need to pick up some groceries to support Choza’s little lie. An easy task to fullfil, and a great excuse to walk through the market and peek around some of the shops.

Choza stared at her with wide, hopeful eyes. “Do you really mean it?” He asked, excitement dripping in his words. “Yua-san, you’re amazing!” He threw his arms open, preparing to hug her when he remembered her current condition and forced himself to take a step back. “When you have your baby, i’m going to make sure to bring them all of the best potato chips.”

The words caught Yua off guard for a second, but once she had processed them she laughed. A small, controlled laugh that was easy to muffle with her hand, but it was a stronger response than most people could get out of her. “I’ll keep you to that,” she promised, closing her eyes and giving him a soft smile. “Now get going. Sakumo is a patient man, but if you keep him waiting too long he will come looking for you.”

As if suddenly realizing where he was supposed to be, Choza rushed down the street with a ‘thank you’ and a slight curse when he just about ran into someone else along the way.

“Shinobi,” she muttered fondly, careful to keep her words low enough so that unwanted ears didn’t hear her. “What a strange bunch.”

No doubt they would say the same about her, though. With her ideals of honor and friendship, she was bound to raise a few eyebrows. She didn’t mind feeling a little out of place though. Where she was, surrounded by strange customs and new faces, was right where she belonged.

“Come on,” she whispered, placing a hand over her belly as if it would connect her to her child so that they could hear her words. “I think we deserve a treat before groceries.”

#Hatake Yua #Pregnant Yua #Kakashi's mother #there's a lil Kakashi in there #he wants dango #XD #narutoocevent2022 #NarutoOCEevent #akimichi choza #Akimichi Choza

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emily-the-fae · 3 years

Text

Sound of a Heartbeat

Part 5. Walking makes the road

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 6

Unbelievable, but I'm finally back with a new chapter. I've been going through a lot of stuff with my studies and personal life for the past month and here it comes. Finally done with the editing. Most definitely not the best chapter in the story, but it has to be here to keep the storyline together and moving. Anyways, enjoy. Like and comment if you do, I'm very happy to receive feedback.

PS Dracula back to the story soon:)

I still have no beta and English isn't my mothertongue.

Pairing: Dracula X OC

Warnings: probably none, skeletons on sticks...the usual stuff

Wandering into the lands ruled over by darkness itself has never been pleasant.

The next morning was freezing cold, just as the passing night - no warmth was brought by the little sunlight that came - and upon waking up Shari briefly wondered how she wasn't dead of the cold yet. Her mornings were something like crawling out of a tomb every time - the kind she imagined when she heard the stories of vampires awakening, though no doubt they must have still felt better than she did. Those bastards.

Morning light was dim and weak, there were torn scraps of greyish mist laying low above the ground and the forest was eerily quiet. Shari knew the sun had to be very low, but nevertheless up, which meant that she had to be on the move already, and yet she couldn’t force herself to move a single inch, as if the forces of the castle were sensing her approach and weakening her on purpose.

She hadn't entered any towns - in fact, hadn't seen any in the previous eight hours or so of her walking the day before - and though her food supplies weren't awfully low, her health seemed to be protesting and weakening at hourly rate, demanding normal human conditions and rest. She needed warmth and a bed, and she was sure as hell that where she was heading she would either get those only already in Dracula's den, or won't get it at all.

- So? Are you up? Heading? The faster you rise, the faster we'll be there, - Shari sat back against the tree trunk, taking a gulp of cold water from her flask - she wouldn't mind Trevor's whiskey right now, but the hunter took it all with him; Rodo was seemingly relieved that he was free of his duty of being her personal heater, he jumped up and ran around the forest opening, stretching his stiff muscles. At least someone had energy left.

- You know I'm really beginning to hate you now... - she yawned.

- I believe you have already mentioned that.

- Not enough, apparently.

- Oh, come on, you like my company. Besides I'm the only one helping you so hey...

- Ok, ok can I get my food at least?

- You can eat on the go! Come on! - she whistled for Rodo even though she knew he couldn't hear her. Shari stood up purposefully slowly and made the first hesitant steps to follow her guide. Oh where were those wonderful times when she could stay in bed almost all day if she was feeling under the weather? She could kill for such a possibility at the given moment. There was a screech of another winged demon somewhere in the distance, Shari shuddered, brought out of her thoughts and Rodo turned his head briefly, seemingly considering whether he should bolt to search for the other creature, but quickly averted his muzzle from the direction and followed Shari, jumping from tree to ground and back up.

It was going to be a long day.

- Did you walk the same way? First time you found his castle? - the scenery about them was dreadful to say the very least. The forest was greyer now, less green, less alive than on the route before. The few small villages they passed were seemingly abandoned completely for decades if not centuries and Shari felt rather than acknowledged that the farther she went, the worse it would become.

- Not quite, - Lisa replied, her voice all too lively for a ghost. - The direction I came from was a bit more disturbing than here, - Shari briefly wondered how that should have looked, if this desolation seemed lively in comparison. - And I also went alone you know, so...

- Oh, yes, thank you, my wise guide for leading my way... Probably to the dinner table of a very aggressive vampire, - Shari bowed mockingly, then coughed again, swallowing the blood the pooled to her mouth.

- Calm down. There won't be anyone there, I'm quite sure.

- A-ha! So now you are "quite" sure!?

- Don't be mean, I'm trying to save your life here.

- Exactly me for some reason, - Shari snorted sarcastically.

- For the same reasons you helped Adrian. Because I can't just walk past... and because I feel rather than know that helping you is more than just helping one particular person. Just like you felt about him - didn't you?

That shut the girl up for considerable time.

They walked all day long only making one small stop to rest during - at least what was supposed to be - midday (it was very hard to understand where the sun was behind the treetops, clouds and fog). Shari coughed up blood and swore like a sailor, but Lisa only let her sit down long enough to gulp down some food. If she wasn’t killed by some night creature, she would sure as hell be tired to death with such a guide pushing her to the limit. It was visible how the closeness of their destination made the ghost more and more agitated.

The dawn was already close and Shari was ready to give up the hopes of getting to her goal on that day - ever, to be honest, judging by the condition of her lungs – her body desperately wanted her to drop down and call it a night. The forest around them was dreary and dense, the mist had never lessened since morning; Shari was cold, slightly wet and unbearably tired and even Rodo seemed to lose some of his enthusiasm, even though the darkness should have empowered him. Maybe being around humans rubbed off on the creature a little.

- Shush, - Lisa turned to Shari as they walked on, gesturing for her to cut her whining and keep quiet. Shari stopped abruptly looking around in alert, trying to see through at least some reasonable distance between the tree trunks. Finally she understood what picked her companion’s attention: clearing began to be noticeable before them - it seemed that the woods were all of a sudden coming to their edge.

They carried on walking in silence for a few more minutes until they finally reached the end of the trees – the edge of the forest. The final border between the darkness of Dracula’s lands and the normal world. Shari gasped in surprise and horror: in front of her was a few feet sandy drop covered here and there in greyish grass that led to a whole field, dry and dead in dim yellow lights with no snow upon it, weak bushes appearing here and there. It seemed that the mere presence of the undead somewhere nearby sucked the life out of the lands. Peculiar graveyard formation occupied a part of the land - human skeletons hanging on tall sticks, all in varying poses, as if frozen in their deadly agony, dried with ages and falling apart. Whatever happened there, it was nothing good. If this was what the owner of the lands decided to expose to lone travelers, it was quite obvious there would be no “welcome” shield ahead.

There was no visible end to the field, at least the reddish mist coloured by the light of the setting sun made it impossible to see far in the distance. Shari coughed, dusty air tickling her throat, and looked back to the ghost in confusion. Was this what they had searched for?

- Are you sure this is…?

- My reaction precisely when I first saw this place, - Lisa was amused, watching the healer's fearful face. - Come on, we're almost there now.

- Wait! What, there? To those? - she gestured actively to the mass of aged corpses, but Lisa payed no attention to her reaction. - Lord, why do I always get myself into the deepest trouble I can find? Could've stayed somewhere safe and warm, healed a bit, but no-o I had to be right here, torn apart by bats and hell-knows-what-else-inhabits-this-place, - Shari mumbled to herself as they descended into the valley, her feet slipping upon rocks and sliding on the unsolid sandy ground.

- Oh, come on, it's not as scary here. You’ve surely seen worse - Lisa replied, - they were walking deeper into the field, navigating their way between the mutilated skeletons, as the reddish-grey twilight around them was darkening minute by minute.

- Maybe. Doesn’t mean I want to see more.

Just as the words left her mouth, there was a blood-chilling howl somewhere in the distance and a horde of great black bats, apparently awoken by the sound, appeared out of nowhere, flapping their wings above their heads rapidly; Shari yelled and dipped down in fear. Rodo on the contrary jumped up from behind her back, trying to reach the annoying loud things and succeeding in catching one of the creatures between his sharp fangs. Shari only crouched down lower, as she heard the struggles of the defeated being next to her ear. Then a snap - the animal stopped moving, as Rodo tightened his jaws, probably breaking the thing's stamina. Just as abrupt as it began, the flapping of the bats above her stopped too.

- Lisa? Are-are they gone? - her voice was slightly shaking, she awaited the dreadful howl to repeat even closer.

- Shari, stand up! Shari! - she heard Lisa's voice coming from behind her back and turned around, her eyes searching for the ghost, as she realized that Lisa has moved much further away than she expected. Shari was on her feet in an instant, finally noticing what stood behind the ghost's transparent form, her mouth fell agape at what she could see before her now.

A wide set of steps that led to doors so tall that she felt her head spin even looking up at it - the dark stone walls went up and disappeared in the low greyish mist. Her ghost companion was at the top of the steps already and Rodo was gladly running up to the doors, apparently recognizing the smell of his own home of some time ago. Shari followed behind him hesitantly, looking around for any sign of movement.

- Come on, don't be shy, - Lisa cooed, as if luring in a small child. Her greyish form paused on one spot, waiting for Shari by the door. The girl looked around one more time as she joined the ghost on the final steps,

- Are you... Sure? This doesn't look completely abandoned. I mean, can you be sure he isn't home? That he won't be back soon? Clearly you can’t, why am I even asking… This was a terrible idea straight from the beginning, - she was visibly shacking, clenching and unclenching her fists, stepping from one foot to the other. The whole journey suddenly felt like a big mistake that could still be possibly abandoned if she did not take the final leap. Shari put her hand on the door handle then pulled away in fear. She took a deep breath, putting her palm back more steadily on the door, but was still hesitant to push it open. She paused. There was once again the dreadful howl from before, now closer to them, the creature producing it still not visible. They were standing in almost complete darkness.

- Go! - Lisa pressed.

Rodo leaped on spot beside them.

Shari held her breath – and finally pushed the handle and jumped inside, scared to even look in forward and terrified of what was awaiting behind, diving head-first into unknown - if he is there, let it be, she'd rather be torn apart by him than by whatever thing outside that let out those blood-freezing sounds; Rodo slid in too, in a ghastly manner, his massive form unnaturally smoothly squeezing through the small gap in the doorway and the next moment the door was shut behind her with a loud blow. She was finally inside Dracula's castle.

#please don't judge me #i'm trying #castlevania #dracula x oc #dracula x reader #vlad dracula #vlad dracula țepeș #lisa fahrenheit #sypha belnades #trevor belmont #adrian tepes #alucard #my writing #castlevania fanfiction

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sadoeuphemist · 3 years

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Stories I thought about writing, but didn’t:

my voice is poisonous, a gift from a strange god my parents once befriended. I’m careful not to speak, but I know they’re afraid.

A poison-voiced girl is born to deaf parents, but falls in love with a hearing boy. Their courtship is marked on her end by a thrilling restraint, biting her lip, knowing she could kill him with an indiscretion; he, on the other hand, longs to see her act without inhibition. He manages to make her laugh, sigh, gasp out in wonder - each time he falls ill from the poison of her voice, but is undeterred even in his convalescence, returning renewed in his goal to tease another sound out of her.

Her parents tell her to break it off; she’ll kill him. She reluctantly agrees. He refuses, pleads with her, grasps her hands so she can’t sign. In anguish she cries out his name — but lo! he does not sicken, does not die. It turns out his repeated exposures to her voice have mithridatized him against it. She can speak around him freely! They both agree that this development has taken a lot of the excitement out of the relationship, but it has been replaced with a greater casualness and intimacy that balances it out.

I can see the angels in their true form, a thousand splendid eyes and all. They think it’s funny, and have taken to hanging around my apartment

The angels start making excuses to keep showing up at my apartment, in the manner of the annunciation, but for increasingly trivial reasons. They come bearing tidings about how I should definitely get the turkey wrap for lunch, which brand of fabric softener I should buy, how that quarter I’ll find on the sidewalk is a sign that I am favored by God. They come bearing bad tidings too: The Lord has heard of all the evil in your printer, and has sent us here to jam it. Their presence becomes completely overbearing, but they are insistent. There’s a reason you see us in our true forms, they say, all their splendid eyes shining. Is it so hard to believe that the God that formed every atom of you in the womb should watch over you always, that every mundane moment of your existence in this world is shot through with the divine?

There was a body in the river, ice cold and snow white. Sometimes it was all the way dead. Sometimes it sat up and talked to me.

A king has declared that whoever can complete the following tasks shall marry his daughter: 1) to recover a lost treasure stolen from his family hundreds of years ago; 2) to name the start of the pact between men and horses; and 3) to find a cure to the plague ravaging the land.

Our plucky folk hero helps an old lady who sits by the river; she tells him of the snow white body within, who has sat up and spoken to her at odd times throughout her life. It is the spirit of the glacier: the glacier melts, and forms the river; layer by layer the past frozen in it is uncovered, parts of it living and parts of it dead. Our hero builds many bonfires and melts the glacier faster; the body lives and dies and lives many times over and tells him the three answers. 1) The thief fell into a crevasse and was frozen over; the ice is melted now, and the treasure can be recovered. 2) Iron horseshoes frozen in the glacier reveal the pact is many thousands of years old. 3) The plague is an old one, frozen and released anew with the glacier’s melting; it is carried in the livestock, and they must be slaughtered.

The hero solves the king’s tasks and marries his daughter. Presumably the new king is then faced with the challenge of the rising sea levels; no idea how that plays out.

“We’re all nice to each other here,” they told us, “we’ve got angels in the hills. They like it when we’re nice. And they see everything.”

This one’s tough to summarize adequately. Two men are going door to door, seemingly taking a survey of the religious beliefs in a small town. They finish, sit together in their car. People have been very cooperative. One of the men remarks that the local religious beliefs are disappointingly unremarkable: yes, they believe in angels watching from the hills, but most people believe in an omniscient God watching over them, and whether it is God or his intercessors, does it make a significant difference?

They sit in the car. Perhaps they smoke in the lazy sunlight. They have finished their survey ahead of time. One of them proposes: Suppose we have a picnic lunch up in the hills?

They park at the base of the hill and walk up. Lovely day. They spread out a blanket from the car, stretch their legs out on the grass, take off their coats, loosen their ties. They’ve brought their packed lunch, sandwiches, a thermos of lemonade. They talk about how pleasant all the people were. Their kind of religion seems so ... brittle, one of the men remarks. If I thought there was someone waiting to punish me the moment I stepped out of line, I’d want to do something horrible just to get it over with.

You think so? says his partner. I think just the opposite. The grand problem with religion is that there aren’t enough consequences for wickedness. I know if I saw the wicked being smote down on a regular basis, I would very satisfied in my religion indeed.

Well, of course you would; you’re a sadist.

Me? A sadist? Hardly.

You’re a sadist, his partner says teasingly. A sadist and brute.

They smile at each other. Idle conversation. There is a suggestion that they have visited many such towns and cities, asking the same question, but have yet to receive a satisfactory answer. At one point one of them notes that there’s something in the trees, but this remark is ignored and nothing is ever made of it. The conversation turns back to whether the angels in the hills are real or not. The ‘sadist’ stands up, declares his intent to do something wicked to test them. He marches around, swinging his arms, then looks around at the trees and puts his hands on his hips and laughs.

You know, up here away from society, he declares, I can’t think of a single wicked thing to do!

(Maybe a conversation here about how he could tear branches from trees, despoil the scenery, find an animal to kill; but then again animals in nature strip bark from trees, kill each other bloodily all the time, tear each other to bits, so how wicked could that be, really?)

He looks down at his partner still lying back on the blanket. Unless, of course, I were to do something wicked to you.

Whatever happens next, it is very leisurely. The scene is easy, very relaxed. Lovely day. Calm. Bright blue sky. Clouds float across it, white like feathered wings, and then pass, leaving not a trace behind.

None of us can imagine what life was like before the Clocks came, before clockwork cities, and all their technology. They rebuilt our crumbling society, in perfect, mechanical order.

Brief musings on a hypothetical pre-Clock society. A society built around the sun, all buildings roofless, everyone’s necks craned upward. Cities built running north to south so as not to block anyone’s view of the rise and set. A society built around hourglasses, everyone judging the passage of time by the sand puddling around their feet, knees, waists, clambering up onto growing dunes, waiting for the flip, for the sand to slowly drain away and the furnishings of their homes to be uncovered. Perhaps this was our unimaginable life before the Clocks came: sands stretching far away and bare, the hypothetical counterpart bulb of an hourglass reflected invisible above us, empty and vast with unrealized possibility, waiting to be reset.

When I was very young, I met a bear at the edge of the woods. Before I could play dead, it bowed to me.

Jokey little fic where a child is instructed on the etiquette of bears: when to bow, when to curtsy, when to raise your hands and make yourself as large as possible, when to climb a tree, when to play dead. (Note that grizzlies are territorial, so if they attack you and play dead they’ll leave you alone because the threat is neutralized; whereas black bears are not territorial, so playing dead will do no good because a black bear will only attack if it deliberately wants to fuck you up.)

I was given very specific instructions. Go to the rosebush on a clear night. As the moonlight turns the roses silver, feed them three drops of blood.

After years of trying for a child, a couple turns to an old witch to help. The woman is instructed to eat a rose from a magical rosebush. If she first pricks her finger and stains the rose red with her blood, then she will have a son, ruddy and robust and bold in battle; if she visits the bush on a clear night and eats a rose painted silver by moonlight, then she will have a daughter, as pale and graceful and elegant as the moon.

The woman is uneasy with the implications of this binary, and says so. The witch smiles and gives her a new set of instructions. So she pricks her finger at night, her blood painted black by the moonlight, and nine months later gives birth to a child as black as a rose, who is neither boy nor girl.

Never manged to come up with a plot for this one. The kid grows up to have a career fulfilling all those “Neither man nor woman” prophecies? Eh. Kinda corny. There’s something about gender roles in fairy tales here, but I couldn’t put it together.

Not for the first time, the company time loop drill had gone very, very wrong.

I did actually write a response for this one, but it got too long and I gave up on it. Summary of the rest of the idea I had:

Time resets. Nagle confirms that it is both an actual time loop and a drill; the company is doing a controlled time loop to prepare them for the real thing. People complain. What’s the point of a drill when an actual time loop would let you keep doing things over and over until you get it right? Nagle points out that could take years, subjectively, and that this is a controlled experience where he has a code to abort the exercise if anything seriously goes wrong. He insists they try to make it work.

They go through a bunch of loops. Don’t succeed. It’s highly technical stuff that none of them are trained for. Morale drops. People start complaining, they’ve spent hours at this, they should be off duty by now. Nagle points out there’s a ruling, established with VR training, that companies don’t need to pay their employees according to their subjective experience of time, and officially they’ve only spent 34 minutes at this.

More loops. Morale drops further. People start demanding Nagle use the abort code, threatening to quit. Nagle points out that while they’re in this time loop, their actions are consequence-free, but once he ends the loop they’ll have to live with their decisions for the rest of their lives. Are they sure they really want to quit?

At that point someone loses it and kills Nagle. Shock. Panic. Some satisfaction. He’s reborn the next loop, starts screaming about it - someone kills him again. Complete social breakdown. Eventually some people decide, fuck it, let’s just live in this loop forever. Killing Nagle becomes a standard thing they do at the start of every loop, so that he can’t input the abort code. They go through various reconfigurations of their social group - orgies, riots, open paranoia where everyone colonizes a different part of the building, regressing to primitivism, open warfare between various sects, rebuilding of society along different axes of thought. Everyone starts thinking of themselves as immortal, they start calling themselves things like ‘Chronobog of the Infinite Plane of Despair’ or whatever; the narration gets increasingly surreal.

After god knows how many cycles of this, everyone finally achieves an equilibrium of perfect enlightenment. They know what must be done. They leave Nagle alive, he watches as they move in perfect unison to unlock the server room and overcome all the obstacles and repair the tachyon servers, loop is finally terminated, normal flow of time resumes.

Nagle stands up, gives a speech, starts congratulating them on completing the drill. As he talks, everyone can feel the rapport they’ve built start to slip away - they no longer understand each other perfectly outside of the context of those 34 minutes. Time is moving forward again, and with it introducing unfamiliarity, uncertainty, an impossible onslaught of variables that they cannot predict or prepare for, and they are all moving inescapably further from each other even as they glance around and try to catch each other’s eyes and keep holding on to that feeling of perfect unity - but it’s too late now, they are strangers behind familiar faces, all of them heading in their own directions, going to be returning to their own separate lives; that moment of solidarity they had is past.

And then Nagle claps his hands at them and says, “OK, drill’s over, everyone back to work!”

#fiction #dumping grounds

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alolowrites · 4 years

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Cuddling Through the Seasons

Summary: Fatgum’s cuddles never go out of season

Author’s Note: This is my third story for the @bnhabookclub’s Hero Camp Bingo event. This was also a request from @bnha-homeroom (sorry it took so long!)

The prompt used was Cuddles and this is my first story for Fatgum. Hopefully I’ll do more stories for this guy because he’s deserves the best.

Enjoy!

Word Count: 1.6K+

Spring

High in the sky rests the glorious bright sun. It’s golden rays shine through the vibrant pink flowers blooming on every tree, emphasizing their natural beauty. Two birds playfully chase each other in between the branches, their lovely chirps in harmony with the soothing sounds of the gentle stream below—Mother Nature is simply a lady with many hidden talents.

Although the grass maintains a healthy green coat, it too is covered by fresh cherry blossom petals blown off the trees—it adds a beautiful pop to the land. Few people arrive and wander through the peaceful park. Some snap a couple of pictures on their phones, their bodies bent in odd angles to capture that perfect Instagram-worthy shot. Others silently take in the whole scenery with their eyes and save the mental image deep in their memory jar—that’s how you are enjoying today with Taishiro.

Both of you sit under a tree that is different from the others; it’s branches are abundant, and some hang charmingly over the water. A quick wind blows through the park, tugging the delicate petals until one slowly falls to the stream. Everything is serene, almost like an abstract landscape painting on display at an art museum.

Closing your eyes, you sink in deeper into Taishiro’s plump chest. A relaxed sigh escapes his lips as you enjoy your massive pillow. His large arms wrap around you like a snuggly safety belt—they are protective and warm. Your fingers affectionately glide up and down his sweater to the beat of the stream. You hum, “Everything is so beautiful.”

Taishiro leans back on the thick tree trunk and glances at you; he cheekily grins, “That’s ‘cause you’re here, darlin’. The cherry blossoms are a nice touch, though.”

You roll your eyes, “You’re such a cheesy guy, you know that?”

“Yeah, but that’s what you love ‘bout me.”

“That is very true,” you playfully tap his arm, smirking up at him. Another cherry blossom falls and lands on top of your head. Taishiro raises on hand to carefully pluck it off your hair and holds it high against the sunlight. The flower is so soft and just the right shade of pink. He thinks it’s perfect, just like you.

Taishiro shows the sakura petal to you, “Here’s a little present.”

Your heart swells, a tiny blush dusting your cheeks as you reach for the flower. You take a whiff of the sweet aroma and lean back against your living pillow. Squeezing the hero’s hand, you look up to flash him a faint smile, “Thank you.”

You never let go of the cherry blossom petal.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

Summer

Far in the distance lies the vast calm sea. Ocean waves creep steadily toward the fine white sand, kissing the land hello before returning outward. Light puffy clouds float along the peaceful cerulean sky, morphing into different images at the hands of your wild imagination. It’s a fun way to pass the time and relax the mind.

You inhale the fresh, natural air—it smells like freedom. The city’s chaotic and bustling streets are an afterthought. The prying eyes of paparazzi and other media hounds are thousands of miles away from your paradise home. The avalanche stress tied with Taishiro’s hero lifestyle vanishes when the two of you step on the warm sand.

“Whatcha’ thinkin’ about, darlin’?” His voice is loud but soothing at the same time. You feel the gigantic teddy bear stand behind you. It wasn’t long until Taishiro traps you into his loving embrace, giving you a quick squeeze. Your toes wiggle into the smooth sand as a sharp wind whistles by; the waves hear it and crash against the shoreline.

“How a place like this,” you nod toward the dancing water, “somehow exists. It’s almost as if I’m dreaming—” You yelp at the slight pinch, and Taishiro roars with laughter. You crane your neck up to glare at him, “What was that for?”

“Well you’re not dreamin’, that’s for sure.” You elbow into his stomach knowing entirely well it did not phase him at all. Taishiro retaliates by hugging you harder, enjoying the delightful squeals ringing into the semi-deserted beach. Other tourists linger around, but the land is so spacious that you barely see them. It’s easy to think you two are alone with all the privacy in the world, an idea that doesn’t exist back at home—a small price to pay while being a pro hero.

In a way, Taishiro is glad this moment is not a dream. It won’t fade away once he wakes up, but will stay in his memory for a long time. Just as you calm down, a mischievous grin crosses the hero’s lips, and his grip tightens around your waist. You had a bad feeling about this and clenched his hands, “Hey…what are you doing—”

“Hold on!”

“Don’t you dare!”

Your words fall on deaf ears as he effortlessly carries you in his arms and charges toward the sea that is waiting to greet you both.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

Autumn

Bright yellow lanterns glow above the narrow streets, gently swaying back and forth without a care in the world. Luscious pampas grass decorate the roofs, the creamy-white feathery plumes waving hello to everyone passing through the area. A chubby hand reaches upward; the baby is determined to grab the mesmerizing fluffy grass until something else catches their eye.

An elegant pyramid of tsukimi dango neatly sits on a black plate. There are fifteen white dumplings, each perfectly round and white as the precious moon gleaming tonight. A crowd grows around the delicious display, making it nearly impossible to squeeze through the sardine bodies. Fortunately, the group departs when they see Fatgum approaching with his hearty smile, and you follow closely behind—sometimes being a hero has its perks.

Taishiro greets everyone until a middle-aged man freaks out from his stall, “It’s an honor to meet you, Fatgum! Thank you for keeping our streets safe!”

“It’s no problem really—”

“Please take these dumplings! They’re on the house!”

Taishiro gives you a side-glance, and you shrug. Who were you to deny some free food, especially if they are those moon-like dumplings? You grab the plate from the man’s trembling hands and bow. The hero safely guides you away from the crowd and spots an empty grass field. Plopping down, you dramatically groan, “That was so much walking!”

“Sorry, darlin’! Guess I got a lil carried away,” he chuckles while scratching his forehead. Taishiro takes a seat behind you.

“I think that’s an understatement, but,” you gleefully raise the plate that barely reached his eyes, “we got free dumplings!”

“They do look good,” Taishiro hums and takes one round treat. You plop the tsukimi dango in your mouth, the rice flavor surprisingly strong, yet pleasing to your tastebuds—it’s a chewy delight. The pyramid crumbles in seconds, and you scoot back to rest your head against the gentle giant; out of instinct, he cradles you in his arms.

A chilly air blows by and makes you shiver despite wearing a cashmere sweater. Taishiro notices and shifts his posture to shield you from the cold—a small act that melts your heart every time. You gaze at the luminous moon until your eyes struggle to stay awake; it doesn’t help that Taishiro feels like all toasty like a fleece blanket.

It definitely was all that walking, and you yawn before dozing off in his arms.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

Winter

Snow showers rain down on your quiet neighborhood. The bare tree branches scoff at the fluffy cotton balls falling from the sky; they barely weighed more than a feather. An hour later, the branches are slouching under the heavyweight and weeping for mercy—but the snow never stops.

A thin white blanket hides the dull, gray streets and vibrant decorations flourish to their heart’s content. Tiny bells chime once Jack Frost blows a chilly wind down the sidewalks. Thick garlands covered in elegant ribbons stretch for miles on some apartment balconies. And others hung colorful Christmas lights that flicker to a very jolly tune.

In a way, the snow ties everything together to bring out the pleasant holiday mood—it’s simply magical. Two pairs of footsteps, one small like a mouse and the other the size of a giant, imprint themselves on the powdery sidewalk. You waddle toward the apartment with arms bundled around yourself; you’re craving for something warm. Any minute longer outside and your legs will permanently turn into icicles.

“O-open t-the do-or, p-please,” you chatter through your teeth while bouncing nonstop. Taishiro chuckles and you glare at him, making his grin widen more. You barge in once he unlocks the door and dust off the snow on your coat. Hasty footsteps rush to the kitchen so you could warm the teapot as quickly as possible.

Taishiro shakes his head—you quickly get cold. He relaxes on the couch, not bothering to change out of his Santa costume; if anything, the clothes are comfortable and roomy. You wander into the living room and shiver up a storm. A gloved hand beckons for you, “Come over here, darlin’.”

Shuffling toward the mellow hero, he pulls you on top of him. Without hesitation, his arm wraps around you to keep you steady. One ear sits above his chest, and you focus on the faint sound of his heartbeat. Not even the Santa costume could mask Taishiro’s alluring honeydew scent, which drives you crazy. You contently sigh, “You made so many kids smile today, hun.”

“I’m glad,” he answers while stroking your hair, “Those kids at the hospital deserve all the happiness in the world, ya’ know?”

“Yeah…” A finger lazily draws out imaginary lines along Taishiro’s red velvet coat. An involuntary shiver runs down his spine. Only your charming touches could make him react like this, and he savors them all. You raise your head and squirm closer to the hero’s face. With loving eyes, you whisper, “You make a fantastic Santa Claus.”

“Fantastic enough to get a kiss from Mrs. Claus?”

“Sure,” you giggle and pull down his fake white beard. As you plant a sweet kiss on his lips, you decide that you no longer needed that nice hot cup of tea.

Third prompt is crossed off. Which one will be next? Stay tune! Thank you for reading!

Previous prompt: Betrayal

Hero Camp Bingo Masterlist

#fatgum x reader #fat gum x reader #taishiro toyomitsu #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #bnhabookclub #hero camp bingo #cuddles #fluff

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tearsofgrace · 4 years

Text

written for suptober day 2: earth

word count: 1700, check archive for other tags!

okay i know i said i was sorry yesterday... but. this time i’m actually sorry

The other angels never got it. Why he loved it so much.

Well really, he’d never understood it either. His home was in Heaven. His family was in Heaven. Most of his eons of life had been spent in Heaven. Even God, the father he was taught to love and worship, had been in Heaven.

But Heaven wasn’t Earth.

Heaven didn’t have mountains that jutted out from the land, reaching for the sky but never quite touching it. Heaven didn’t have wide networks of rivers, snaking across continents, cutting the land deeper and deeper and forming wide gaping canyons. Heaven didn’t have entire ecosystems of life underwater carefully balanced, able to survive with the meager sunlight provided from above.

But it wasn’t just about the astonishing natural beauty of Earth. The other angels never would have understood that anyway. Awe was such a human emotion. Angels were better suited for obedience.

What drew Castiel to Earth, over and over, were the imperfections.

The way nature never quite conformed to patterns. The way flowers sprouted up across an entire field in patches, some small and some spanning miles. The way animals that could have- should have been enemies pulled together to make a better life for both of them. The way snow fell in Spring, covering the buds of green and suffocating them.

And when humans had come along, they’d tried to explain it all. Written countless equations, established rules that couldn’t be broken, scales that measured everything. They tried over and over to make sense of the world, to reign it in and fit it into their small box of human understanding. And they failed. Every single time.

And maybe that’s what fascinated Cas. Because he would never be able to understand it, to explain it, even with millions of years of experience, of divine understanding.

He loved the imperfections. The complexity. The systems that had taken on a life of their own after their creator left them.

But he loved humanity too. Long before humanity had become a very narrow word in his mind, he loved to watch people struggle to fit into the world. To watch them try and define themselves, to define others. He loved to watch them fall in love, to watch their hearts break, to watch them be lifted up and dragged back down just as quickly.

For millions of years, he thought that would be another thing he would never understand. The range of human emotion. The depth to which they can feel.

And then he’d met Dean Winchester. Or maybe met is too weak a word. He’d raised Dean Winchester from the infernos of damnation and painstakingly rearranged every atom in his body to its perfect form.

But that wasn’t what changed him. It was watching Dean. Watching him choose others over and over, watching him selflessly defend the world, watching him refuse to be controlled by the whims of those in power.

That’s what taught Cas to feel.

It was strange, at first. To be on a mission, and feel his heart crying out, yearning to be with someone else. To see an innocent lifeless before him and feel a stab of guilt, of pain for a human he had never met. To feel conflicted when he was given an order, not just confused and full of doubt as he always had been, but torn, broken, afraid to go through with what was being asked of him.

He grew to love it though. To love the joy, the elation, the swell in his breast when he looked at something beautiful. But even more he learned to love the pain, the heartbreak, the feeling of being totally alone in the world. Because they taught him. They taught him that just like Earth, humanity was not perfect, yet he loved it all the same. He fell for it- no, for him, all the same.

And now he had to leave.

It wasn’t that he feared death. He was no great loss to this world. The Winchesters, of course, would be upset. But they would move on, in time. But everyone else… they would see Castiel’s death as a triumph for Earth.

So he wasn’t afraid, not of what he would leave behind. But he wanted to stay. As selfish as it was, he didn’t want to leave. He wanted more time to roam the Earth, to discover places no man had ever set foot before, to watch the seasons change, and people change with them.

He’d known, when he made the deal, that he’d be taken. He had not known it would be so soon.

Even crouched behind Dean’s bed, both of them breathing heavily as the knocks on the door grew louder, he didn’t know why the time was now. Because he wasn’t happy. He wasn’t exactly unhappy, but there would always be that one thing, the unspoken thing that would keep him from true happiness.

And he was okay with it. He didn’t expect it. The unlikeliness of it ever happening was the reason he’d ever made the deal.

“Cas,” Dean breathed quietly, clutching his side and breathing quietly. “Are you- I mean, why is it here now? I thought you said-”

“The deal was I could live until I was truly happy,” Cas said tiredly. The last 24 hours had not been kind. He’d told the Winchester’s about his deal, which resulted in anger from Sam and numbness then tears from Dean. Which wasn’t quite how he thought it would go. But regardless, it was with heavy hearts they had all gone to bed, only to be woken by a cosmic entity a few hours later.

“And, you’re still not…” Dean trailed off. That had been the part Dean got caught up on. Not that he’d made a deal, or sacrificed himself, or had stopped the Shadow from taking Jack, but that he wasn’t happy.

“No, Dean,” Cas said quietly.

“Dammit, Cas.” There it was. That spark of anger. Dean lashing out because he didn’t know exactly what he was feeling. But there wasn’t any of the usual fire behind it, he just sounded tired.

“I’m not going to let it take you.”

“I don’t think you have a choice.”

“I’m serious, man. We can’t do this without you.”

And Cas almost laughed at that one. Of course they could. He wasn’t a necessary part of this team. His being part of it, even his desire to stay in this world, it was all selfish. He wanted to stay because he loved it, not because they loved him.

“Yes, you can.”

“Will you shut up? Look, Cas, I,” Dean took a deep breath, “I know you think of me and Sam as brothers…” Dean trailed off and Cas looked at his hands. If only it were that simple. “And I want you to know we care about you too, even if we don’t say it enough. But,” he hesitated again and Cas looked up in concern. Maybe the wound in Dean’s side was worse than he thought. Dean readjusted himself against the bed and started again. “But I cannot let you die without telling you.”

Cas barely registered the words, looking closely at Dean’s wound and resting his hand next to it to try and sense the severity with his grace. It was fading every day, but he was enough in tune with Dean that he could normally get a read on him fairly quickly.

“I love you,” Dean blurted.

The world stopped spinning. Maybe somewhere, far across the earth, someone was still breathing, still talking, still grieving, still rejoicing, still living. But in the tiny bedroom deep within the bunker, nothing moved. Dean’s steady breathing froze, Cas’ hand on his side came to a standstill, the knocking on the door went soft.

Then everything was in motion again. The knocking more insistent, pounding through the wood, the beginnings of splinters starting to form.

“I love you,” Dean repeated quietly. “And I know you don’t feel the same. But I can’t let you die- die again, without you knowing.”

And that’s when Cas felt it. More strongly than any emotion he’d ever felt, coursing through his whole body and making his lips turn up in spite of, well, everything. Happiness. Pure, simple, real happiness.

For once, he didn’t think.

He just pulled Dean toward him, tilting his chin up as he did. In his eyes, he saw nothing but trust.

Then he kissed him softly, reaching up his hand bloodied from Dean’s side to grip his shoulder. Dean melted into him immediately, a soft sigh escaping his lips. Cas squeezed him tighter, afraid to let go, afraid of what it would mean.

When he finally pulled away, he looked into Dean’s dazed eyes and smiled softly. “I love you too, Dean.”

Before the hunter had a chance to respond, the door came crashing open and Billie--no, the Shadow--came walking in.

The smile on her face was completely empty. There was absolutely nothing behind it. No anger, no malice, no joy, no mirth just… nothingness.

“It’s time, Castiel,” she said, and her voice sent shivers up Cas’ spine.

He peeled his hand off Dean’s shoulder, ignoring the bloody mark it left behind, and stood to face her. “I know.”

Dean stumbled to his feet next him. “No. Hell, no, Cas I said you were staying and you’re staying if you think I’m gonna fucking let you walk away after-”

“I made a deal, Dean.”

“So what? You aren’t gonna fight? You’re just gonna give in. Bullshit, Cas.” Dean’s voice was rising in anger, but tears were glistening in his eyes and they were wide with pain, with emotion.

Cas reached forward, wiping a tear from his face, almost letting his resolve weaken when Dean immediately leaned into his hand, desperate for contact, and then turned to face the Shadow.

She took him by the shoulders, and for a minute, he saw it all. He saw stretches of open plain, vast cities rising from the ground, a ladybug walking delicately over a strand of grass, a man picking up another man’s dropped papers, smiling at him, a wave crashing on a rocky shore. He saw Earth.

And then all of it faded from his vision and he was left with only one picture, crystal clear.

Dean Winchester, eyes widened in fear, a bloody handprint on his shoulder, reaching out desperately to save him, to raise him from eternal emptiness. He looked helpless, broken, lost. Cas wanted to run to him, to kiss him and say everything was going to be okay. But he couldn’t. Earth didn’t need him anymore. Dean’s face filled his mind and he sobbed.

Then he blinked. And everything went black.

tag list [ask to be added or removed!]:

@fandomstuff67 @menjiiii @witchyanaels @starlightcastiel @chaoticdean @larryforeveralways @starclaire @flowersforcas @tlakhtwritesdestiel @wanderingcas @prayedtoyou @good-things-do-happen-dean @jayus-fandom-writer @cas-you-assbutt-dean-needs-you @gmotheemo @starrynightdeancas

#suptober20 #destiel ficlet #destiel oneshot #supernatural #spn fanfic #destiel angst #angst #bloody handprint #hurt #major character death #my writing

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alltheworldsinmyhead · 3 years

Photo

time, wondrous time

elain & azriel & lucien // ao3

Time, curious time

Gave me no compasses, gave me no signs

Were there clues I didn't see?

And isn't it just so pretty to think

All along there was some

Invisible string

Tying you to me?

Bright sunlight wakes Elain up, relentlessly tapping on her closed eyelids until she groans softly; making her clammy skin sizzle. She cannot escape from it, not sandwiched naked between two bodies the way she is. Flushed all-over, not an inch of her untouched; her cheek pressed to one male’s back, her legs tangled up with another’s. Some minuscule human part of her left weeping in shame, quietly, somewhere too deep inside her to bother with it.

Instead of hiding underneath thin sheets, she spits out a strand of hair stuck to her lower lip and begins grounding herself. It’s a slow, meticulous process, boring and alike to fishing out pebbles of a certain shade from a riverbed full of all kinds of rocks – but then, Elain’s well versed in it for now. Last night’s memories are a bit brighter, a bit more solid than all of the other images blooming in her head. There is laughter and auburn wine, the taste of it on her tongue, pomegranate juice dripping down her neck until it was licked off. Sand-colored marble kissing the bare soles of her feet when she was running through the corridors. Sheer silk swishing around her calves. Sweet ache coiling deep in her belly, between her slick thighs, the release hard enough to leave her feeling breathless, almost empty. There’s snow falling in the Steppes, chubby cheeks and round, silver-blue eyes of her mother-

Which don’t belong to yesterday, nor to any of the yesterdays before. Elain indulges herself though; let’s happiness and adoration fill her to the brim when she stays with this image for a bit longer. Those tiny fingers locked around a lock of her sister’s hair, Nesta’s cooing, a lullaby falling from her lips soft like a caress… It’s too nice, too delicious to not melt into this vision.

But then - a rough hand slides up her thigh, fingers tracing the arch of her hipbone. Quiet laughter echoes when she trembles in response.

The future bursts like a soap bubble in the air and Elain falls painfully into here and now. She bares her throat to rest the back of her head on Azriel’s chest, smiling brightly with her eyes still firmly closed when he presses a kiss underneath her jaw.

‘’Good morning, Elain.’’ He whispers.

Before she can reply, a familiar warmth spills deep inside her belly – happiness and annoyance and pleasure mixed up in equal measure – and Lucien huffs, his voice muffled by the pillow:

‘’Why do you always have to wake up so early?’’

It’s the sun. – Elain wants to say, want to sing-song into his ear until he fully awakens.- It’s the sun and you are the one responsible for it.

But she’s too content, too comfy – so he blindly moves her hand from Lucien’s waist to his back, traces loopy I love you-s on the bare skin with her fingertips as the bond inside her purrs like a cat in response. She can feel the silky strands of his hair brushing her knuckles and, for the thousandth time, she vows she’ll never let him cut them.

‘’Good morning.’’ She lets out an exhale. ‘’The sun’s telling you to rise and shine, my lord.’’

Azriel’s near-soundless laugh makes the bed shake a bit. It’s her favorite sound in the world – as beautiful as her future nephew’s shrieks of joy, as beautiful as Nesta’s singing voice.

As beautiful as Lucien’s fond, irritated groan.

‘’You two will pay me back for it, you know.’’

Oh, she knows.

Lips and hands and cocks and wings and starlight underneath her eyelids; and moans and names and curses; in the daylight, in the moonlight; on the soft grass in her personal garden, bees buzzing around them as they make love, her knees scraped raw, teeth-marks on her neck, finger-shaped bruises on her thighs.

Before now – before them, she didn’t know it’s even possible to feel such ecstasy, that sex can be like this. She doesn’t know how she was managing to live without it, how she did not crave this connection as one craves air every second, every heartbeat of her life.

‘’Is that a threat or promise, oh mighty High Lord?’’ Azriel snickers and Elain hides her face in Lucien’s hair to suppress her giggle. ‘’Be careful not to bite more than you can chew.’’

‘’I think we all know I can chew plenty.’’ Lucien shoots back, unflinchingly. Just enough bite in his tone that she squeezes her thighs together, that she feels Azriel’s hand climbing up the ladder of her ribs to brush her breast.

‘’Shush, both of you.’’ She whispers. ‘’It’s too early for that.’’

She can almost feel Lucien’s grin on her own lips.

‘’It’s never too early for that.’’

Like a cat waking up from a nap on a sunny afternoon, Elain slowly stretches her body- brushing, caressing, electing hisses and groans left and right in process, her bones and muscles re-forming from their half-molten state when she yawns.

And then she opens her eyes.

Lucien has turned to lay flat on his back, smiling at her in the light of the morning. There are pillow creases pressed on his cheek and she almost manages to reach out and touch them before Azriel throws his arms across her torso and beats her to it.

Darling, terrible Azriel, all the impossible contradictions of him. All brutality and goodness, quiet agony, dark humor. How delicately his hand caresses Lucien’s cheek. How delicately he touches her, every time, until she tells him not to – as if she was something holy and precious, and worth living for.

Life’s – life’s just this, being tangled up, tied into a knot with her mate and her beloved, her glorious, gorgeous, grand lovers keeping her tethered, keeping her safe. Not for the first time, Elain feels a quiet glee at this thought – oh, let her sisters’ keep their mates and their great love stories full of heartbreak and pain, and impossible choices. Elain refused to go down this road. Elain refused impossible choices.

Elain, for the first time in her life, took a stand for something, refused to let the tide of fate to carry her from one place to another as if she was a petal on the wind.

And Elain is adored.

And Elain adores in return.

She wants to melt in-between them, slither underneath their ribs, bind them together for all eternity. Time is a river and she has long ago stopped drowning – now she’s swimming like a fish, no longer gasping for air, no longer cold and lost. The Cauldron’s power hums in her, this horrifyingly ancient beast Nesta has conquered and Elain has tamed: you’ll go first, you’ll go first into this ageless dark, sweet doe.

And how exactly does it matter?

Lucien turns his face slightly to press his lips to the inside of Azriel’s hand. His own hand grips her waist to press her closer, closer; the three of them, hips pressing together, legs entangling, until their heartbeats sound like one perfect harmony in her ears.

How does it matter, when they will have each other even when I’m gone?

Her human life, brief and long evaporated like a puff of an exhale on a frost morning.

The centuries of love she got in exchange.

Feyre, her little sister always so nosy beyond measure, burning in curiosity when she asks, time and time again, how does it even work, as if the three of them sat down around the business table the way Nesta sits with foreign traders to discuss terms and conditions; Mor biting the inside of her cheek not to laugh whenever Elain just shrugs in response. It’s not strange for her, loving them both, sharing and being shared. She has always had too much love inside her anyway, too much to know how to use it properly – wasting it on undeserving human men and pretty, petty things, this love without a purpose that she has now. Enough love for both of the best men she has ever met, both of them always so hungry for love, starved for it.

Elain has shed her humanity and all her human inhibitions the way silk dress slides to the marble floor, exposing skin and flesh begging to be touched – kept them on her and then got rid of them all at once, instantaneously.

Future rushes through her mind like a waterfall, all the good things: roses blooming, stars falling, Feyre’s rounded belly and her son’s first word, Lucien’s hungry gaze, Cassian’s deep laughter and Nesta’s silver one, rows and endless rows of books in the thousand libraries all toppled over, Azriel sleeping peacefully by her side-

Elain rests her head on Lucien’s shoulder and tangles her fingers in Azriel’s hair when he hides his face in the crook of her neck. The Day Court keeps them warm and safe when they drift back into dreams.

Oh, how truly blessed she is.

#elriel #elucien #elain x azriel x lucien #azriel x lucien #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #elain archeron

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omgkatsudonplease · 3 years

Text

[ficlet, bagginshield] shock and delight, pt 1 (bridgerton au)

The banks of the Brandywine River are packed with strolling couples on the day of the promenade, their chaperones following shortly behind. Thorin and the Fundinson brothers arrive exactly on time, Thorin carrying a bottle of Old Winyards. According to the sommelier in the shop at Bucklebury, this particular bottle was their last vintage one.

Bilbo and his chaperone Mr Greyhame show up a couple minutes late, the Hobbit fretting and dabbing at his brows with a monogrammed handkerchief. “I’m so terribly sorry for my lateness,” he flusters, hopping on one foot to the other like a nervous rabbit as he peers up at Thorin with a sheepish grin. “I forgot my pocket-handkerchief and had to go back for it.”

Thorin is caught between the absolute adorableness of Bilbo’s contrite pout and the absolute absurdity of the reason for his tardiness.

“You are forgiven,” he declares instead. Bilbo’s pout smooths into a heart-melting smile.

The two of them begin to head down the path alongside the river, their pace leisurely. Other promenaders pass them by, as well as several open carriages pulled by unprotesting ponies. Thorin finds his gaze oddly drawn to the way the spring sunlight seems to burnish Bilbo’s curls into gold. Probably where Lord Stormcrow got the Golden Hare moniker, he thinks, before forcibly looking away towards a young Hobbit family having a picnic by the river.

It’s a picture-perfect image of marital bliss. Thorin supposes something like that is what Bilbo is looking for, which Thorin himself obviously could not provide. Though he has yet to hear of any pushback against what must be an odd coupling by both Dwarvish and Hobbit standards, he is sure opposition will make itself known eventually. A marriage of true minds often lacks the productivity factor of a standard marriage, something which would be keenly felt in the family of a gentleman as distinguished as Bilbo Baggins’s.

He, on the other hand, has already named his sister-children as his heirs. So it didn’t matter whether or not he married at all, nor did it matter whether or not his One (wherever they may be) possessed the physical apparatus or mental inclination for childbearing.

“I have a question,” says Bilbo after a moment, breaking through Thorin’s thoughts like sunlight through stormclouds. “How do you know Gandalf? He’s an old family friend of mine, and apparently my cousin Fortinbras was the one who suggested he watch over me this season, but I don’t know how he would know you.” He looks thoughtful, hazel eyes peering inquisitively into Thorin’s face.

In spite of himself, Thorin feels exposed, almost vulnerable.

“I suppose Gandalf does have a lot of fingers in a lot of pies, though,” muses Bilbo after a moment, before laughing and shrugging it off. “So? How do you know Gandalf?”

“To use your phrasing, Mr Greyhame has a finger in Erebor’s pie,” replies Thorin simply, not wanting to discuss how, years upon years ago, the Wizard had found his father in the depths of the Greenwood lost in enchantments and his own memories. King Thráin had, as the story went, finally succumbed to his grief about the deaths of his father and son, and had gotten lost in the Greenwood on his way to Azanulbizar to mourn them.

He half suspects that telling Bilbo all of that would just make the poor Hobbit run off screaming in the opposite direction. So instead he bites his tongue, folding his hands behind his back.

“I see,” says Bilbo, fiddling nervously with one of his cuff-links. “I’ve never been to Erebor. I’ve barely even left the Shire as-is.”

Thorin arches an eyebrow, remembering the abundance of maps and walking-sticks in Bag End the first time he’d gone over for dinner. The smial, though grand in size and luxurious in room variety, didn’t have the same cold ostentation as the mansions of Dwarves or Men. It felt homey, well-loved. A testament to lives well-lived.

No wonder Bilbo was so picky about the search for his One. If Thorin were not king, he would have wanted his halls just as cosy and warm, and he would have wanted to share it with only those who would brighten its nooks and crannies.

“You certainly give the appearance of being well-travelled,” he says neutrally, still thinking of the maps and walking-sticks.

“Within the Shire,” demurs Bilbo. “I have had to go to Annúminas on business, of course, and once I went to Fornost with my parents on holiday, but Hobbits as a rule try to stick within the four farthings of the Shire. After all, why go out to see the rest of the world when the world comes to us every year?”

His last question is both rhetorical and bitter. Thorin’s heart aches a little just hearing it.

“So it is a matter of respectability?” he wonders wryly. Bilbo raises an eyebrow, so Thorin explains. “There is not much stopping you from running out of your front door and into the Blue, after all.”

Bilbo chuckles ruefully. “No,” he agrees. “But every time the side of me that craves adventures begins to make plans, the other side of me protests mightily, saying I’ll miss my books and my armchair and having six regular meals a day.”

Thorin has, indeed, noticed that restaurants and tea shops in the Shire have a more constant cycle of meals than anywhere else in Middle-earth. He’s honestly not complaining.

“Speaking of meals,” he says, nodding towards the basket that Mr Greyhame is carrying, “I brought Old Winyards. Shall we find somewhere to sit?”

Bilbo checks his pocket-watch. “It’s halfway between elevensies and luncheon,” he remarks.

“Yes,” says Thorin. “Consider it ‘lunchensies’.”

Bilbo bursts out in laughter at that, a bright joyful sound that rings through Thorin like one of the golden bells of Dale. His own stomach flutters a bit, and it takes all of his self-control to simply gesture for Balin and Dwalin to come help them set up their picnic on the banks of the Brandywine River.

Lunchensies is a success. Bilbo immediately takes a liking to Balin the moment they all sit down on the blanket together, happily chatting with him about books and history in between bites of his sandwich. Thorin watches them, unable to stop the smile on his face as he watches the way his old friend brightens under the Hobbit’s genuine inquisitiveness.

“Yes, the road between here and Erebor was not as arduous as it used to be,” Balin is saying. “There is, of course, the stray highway robbery within Orc territory, but rumour has it that after the Shadow was broken at the end of the last Age, the majority of the Enemy’s armies have fallen out of its thrall and prefer to keep to themselves within the Mountains.”

“Occupying the ancestral halls of Khazad-dûm,” growls Dwalin. Thorin, too, feels the cold resentment deep in his stomach, but he tempers it by watching Bilbo chew thoughtfully at his sandwich, his nose twitching like a rabbit’s.

“While Durin’s Bane continues to live, Khazad-dûm cannot be retaken,” he reminds Dwalin.

“If it continues to live,” muses Balin, before hastily switching the topic. “On the other hand, we are fortunate not to have awoken anything similar within Erebor. Though we did almost lose it to the firedrake Smaug.”

Thorin remembers the flames, remembers the lives lost to the dragon. The tragedy had seemed insurmountable at the time, but now he supposes rebuilding a Kingdom within the ashes of dragonfire was not as bad as being forced to flee for a new home like what had happened to his ancestors in Khazad-dûm.

“Almost?” echoes Bilbo, his eyes wide. Dwalin hands him and Thorin both glasses of the Old Winyards. Mr Greyhame, too, is helping himself to a liberal portion of the wine.

“The Lady Mika, wife of the Lord of Dale, requited her husband’s death upon the dragon by shooting him with a black arrow,” explains Thorin as he pops a strawberry into his mouth. The fruit’s juices spill over his fingers; he hastily licks it off before wiping his fingers with the handkerchief.

Bilbo’s cheeks are dusted light pink when Thorin looks up again, and Thorin can feel his own cheeks heating in response.

“Well,” flounders the Hobbit, “that must have been terrible to go through. We haven’t had anything quite like that in the Shire, save for long and fell winters and the odd plague outbreak. But enough talk of dark and grim things! What is your favourite part of Erebor?”

The question throws Thorin for a moment. “Everything,” he says, but Bilbo raises a doubtful eyebrow at that. “All of Erebor is connected,” explains Thorin. “From the mines to the forges to the crafting halls, every part serves the whole.”

“Cogs in a machine,” muses Bilbo. “But what about a location? If you’ve grown up there all your life, surely you must have a favourite place. Secret hideouts from childhood, all of that.”

Thorin considers the question again, and this time the answer comes almost as if he had always meant to say it: “My mother’s garden,” he replies. “She kept a well-tended terrace beside the Royal apartments. We still take care of it, of course, and in the spring the cherry and apple blossoms blanket the grass like petalled snow.”

Bilbo’s expression lights up. “That sounds incredible,” he says.

“In the summer, the entire terrace is flooded with fireflies. I remember thinking once as a child that they were stars come down to play with us.”

Bilbo’s hands tighten against the stem of his wineglass. “I should very much like to see that,” he says quietly. Thorin smiles, before noticing the knowing glint in their companions’ eyes.

He glares at them until they subside.

#the hobbit #bagginshield #tolkien #lily's dabbles #bridgerton au

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shijiujun · 4 years

Note

I LOVE your chuyao fics. I was wondering if you can write something about them being soulmates with soul marks. Another prompt is chuyao being soulmates but was never able to be together for different reasons, but in this lifetime, this is their chance. Time after Time. Life after Life. Their souls yearning to be together. LOVE you for sharing your fics.

Heya! Oh my god, this took FOREVER, I think about 3 months plus, but here it is, it’s a shorter one but ooof it’s my first soulmate/soulmark/reincarnation fic!

Summary: Lu Yao dies at the grand old age of 72 seated in his rocking chair, his hand clutching onto a photo of him and Chusheng, a man who died nearly 40 years ago without even saying goodbye to him. A man who had his soul mark, but didn’t tell him.

He remembers Qiao Chusheng fully when he sees him in what seems to be their next life the moment he lays his eyes on him.

“You’re the new roommate then?” asks Chusheng, standing at the door with only a towel wrapped around his waist. “Come on in.”

Warnings: Major character deaths (temporary!!!)

⬇⬇⬇

1965

An almost faded photo of him and Chusheng - the only one Lu Yao has - sits on the table next to a cup of steaming tea. Leaning into his rocking chair which is lined with thick fur to keep him warm in the dead of winter, Lu Yao reaches out with shaking hands to slide it over to him.

They were so young then, Chusheng in that lovely, gorgeous navy blue three-piece suit and himself in that red corduroy jacket and pants, a photo Youning took when they were not looking. Lu Yao can hardly remember what it was they were talking about that sunny afternoon, but as he closes his eyes, he thinks he can still feel the warm sunlight on his skin, the fresh scent of flowers and grass in the air as he stood right next to Chusheng.

And the smile in Chusheng's voice as he spoke to him.

One would think that at the ripe old age of 72, Lu Yao would have learnt to let things go, but the regret sits heavy in his chest — an unchanging weight that has lodged itself permanently between his heart and his ribcage, throbbing painfully with every breath he has taken in the last forty years.

Forty years, Lu Yao thinks.

Forty years since he laid eyes on the man he loved for the very last time. A man he never got to spend his life with, for which Lu Yao has regretted since.

As he aged, as the wrinkles sank deeper and sun spots emerged on his once-smooth and unblemished skin, Lu Yao can barely see his own soul mark anymore. The image of it however has been seared into his brain — a full moon right over his heart, just like the one he saw that night with Chusheng on the bridge, when they were both naive and hoping life was just that bit simpler, that time would pass just a little slower.

A full moon that was printed right over Chusheng’s heart, identical to Lu Yao’s.

Qiao Chusheng, Lu Yao blinks languidly, how dare you?

When Lu Yao finally saw it, when he finally realized that he had lost so much time he could have had with Chusheng because the man truly was his soulmate all along, Chusheng was no longer breathing.

I’m sorry, Liu Zi had said to him, his face ashen.

Lu Yao stood in the morgue, a place he had spent so much time with Chusheng in as the man watched him conduct multiple brief autopsies on their latest victims. Instead of an unknown face and body lying there this time, however, it was Chusheng.

By then, Lu Yao hadn’t seen Chusheng in three years, having fled to Paris to escape his family and a love that he thought would never be reciprocated.

He told us not to let you know, Youning said, her eyes swollen from a few hours of continuous tears, he wanted something better for you.

Well, Lu Yao thinks bitterly, Chusheng eliminated that 'better' option the moment he died, leaving him alone with regrets of all the things they never said to each other. And forty years later, he is old, dying and alone. No wife, no children, no family in sight.

If Youning didn’t force him to come live with her and her huge family a few years ago, Lu Yao might have died even sooner perhaps.

As it is, Youning and her husband are still alive. If Chusheng did not leave them so early, he would have been uncle to three lovely children and their children too. The manor is never quiet, the silence constantly punctuated with high-pitched giggles, raucous laughter and heavy footsteps. Hands, both big and small, patting or shaking at him to get his attention, asking him to tell them exciting stories of his days way back as a consulting detective.

Those days were his happiest. And after his soulmate left him, the most painful.

If only he had said something, if only he did not leave like a coward, if only Lu Yao had opened his fucking mouth and taken a leap of faith, he could have had a few more years with Chusheng, if not a lifetime.

Lu Yao has lived four, excruciating and long decades after as punishment, even though he’d thought about following after Chusheng too many times. Every glance at the soul mark on his chest makes the skin burn as his throat tightens, unable to breathe as the memory of Chusheng’s every word, his every smile and touch, assaults his senses.

The afternoon today is unnaturally lovely for this season, sunlight peeking through the dense clouds and casting a golden glow against the thick sheets of snow outside. Lu Yao is afraid of the cold and has dreaded every winter since Chusheng was buried, because the only person who loved him enough to ensure that he was always warmed up died forty years ago, taking along with him Lu Yao’s beating heart.

On this day, however, the biting winds don’t seem to bother him all that much. He left the door open earlier, and from where he’s seated, he can see the grand manor that is Youning and her soulmate’s home. Outside in the courtyard, Li Chuyu, Youning’s eldest daughter, is watching her two children and their three cousins tumble in the snow with Li Minsheng, Chuyu’s younger brother and Youning’s third child.

They grew up calling him San Tu shushu, and Lu Yao wonders what kind of an uncle Chusheng would have been. If Chusheng knew that Lu Yao spent most of his time buying expensive gifts for the children and agreeing to all their requests, including when Chuyu and her younger sister, Chuwen, begged him to bring them to a crime scene, Lu Yao knows Chusheng might have scolded him for it.

I wouldn’t have, Chusheng’s voice sounds in the back of his head.

Lu Yao smiles. Chusheng is standing right there next to him as he says that, dressed in the same navy blue suit from the photo in his hands.

“You wouldn’t have?” Lu Yao croaks before huffing in laughter, “You’re such a liar, Lao Qiao.”

How would I have had the heart to scold you, Chusheng points out, I would have scolded the children instead.

“Even I can’t bear to scold them,” Lu Yao says, sighing as he looks out again. “Minsheng reminds me of you. And the way Chuwen nags at me sometimes, it’s as if you were around when they were growing up.”

They grew up well, Chusheng agrees.

Lu Yao feels the slightest of pressure on his shoulder, but he no longer has any energy to turn and look at Chusheng.

San Tu ah, Chusheng says softly, you did well.

“Did I?” asks Lu Yao, shuddering as he takes in another breath. “I lost you.”

Stupid, and there it is, that exasperated but immensely fond tone that Lu Yao has not heard in so long, you’ll never lose me.

Lu Yao chuckles, and for the first time since he saw Chusheng’s lifeless body, that weight in his chest eases.

Much later, when little Ruoyun runs into the little hut that serves as San Tu yeye’s private study, she sees the old man asleep on his rocking chair. Her baba and gugu are there, their eyes puffy and red, and Youning nainai is there as well, seated on a stool right next to San Tu yeye.

“Nainai! I want to ask yeye about something,” Ruoyun says quietly, coming inside. “Is yeye sleeping?”

She goes to Youning when the old woman opens her arms, wondering why everyone is crying.

“Ruoyun ah,” Youning nainai says, “Your San Tu yeye went to find your Chusheng yeye.”

“Chusheng yeye? The one who has San Tu yeye’s mark?”

Clutched tight in his right hand is the photo she took so many years ago of Chusheng and Lu Yao, his fingers curled around it as he left.

===

2019

He remembers Qiao Chusheng fully when he sees him in what seems to be their next life the moment he lays his eyes on him.

“You’re the new roommate then?” asks Chusheng, standing at the door with only a towel wrapped around his waist. “Come on in.”

Lu Yao stands frozen in the doorway for a good few seconds, his eyes trained on his new roommate as everything clicks in his head, all the missing pieces sliding together perfectly in his head as images of a different looking Qiao Chusheng melds together with the one before him.

For as long as Lu Yao could remember, he has dreamt of himself and his soulmate, but differently. Snippets and snatches of moments that belonged to a different time, and when he was younger, his mother would bring him to doctors and psychologists to see what exactly was ailing him but Lu Yao continued having the dreams. He learnt instead to hide them from his family and friends.

He did wonder if he was going insane, or if there was something wrong with him, but while the dreams were frequent when he was much younger, once he entered high school, they only turned up occasionally. In university, Lu Yao could almost pretend he was normal and that everything he dreamt of and saw was simply a figment of his imagination.

A man in an old police uniform, driving an old, vintage car. The same man putting a watch on his wrist. The man in a long, black cape on one occasion, in a leather jacket on a few other occasions, and the one that surfaced frequently was him in a three-piece navy blue suit. Lu Yao never heard any sort of dialogue, but he remembers the man’s gentle eyes, full of fondness for him and the smile tugging at his lips whenever he looks at Lu Yao.

Looking at him like he loves him. The same soul mark on the man’s chest, right where Lu Yao’s is.

A full moon, like the one he and Qiao Chusheng, in their past life, was looking at that night. Lu Yao remembers that night as clearly as if it was a recurring dream.

And right here, right now, Lu Yao’s breath catches, because his new roommate’s soul mark is there for everyone to see, fresh from his shower.

It matches the soul mark on Lu Yao’s chest, and for a moment, he feels nauseous and sick.

“Hey, are you okay?” Chusheng frowns, stepping forward. “You look a little sick, are you-“

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence, because Lu Yao bends over, and empties his stomach right on the man’s doorstep.

—

When his mind is clearer and the urge to throw up has abated somewhat, Lu Yao feels like throwing himself into the river and be done with it.

His soulmate, his one and only true love, and Lu Yao just made him clean up his mess. Most people would be happy to find their soulmates, he knows, but right now, Lu Yao is petrified. His cheeks are scalding hot with embarrassment as he lies there unmoving on the couch after Chusheng helped him there.

“Lu Yao, isn’t it?” Chusheng’s voice sounds right next to him then, and Lu Yao jolts. “Man-jie said you were coming over today.”

“I’m Qiao Chusheng. Are you sure you don’t want to go to the hospital?”

Ah, Lu Yao thinks, even his name is the same.

Lu Yao suspects that he’s truly gone off the bend, because what are the fucking odds? Soulmates and soul marks are the order of the natural world, but reincarnation, prophetic dreams, fate and what not? That’s something you only see out of movies.

Shaking his head in mortification, Lu Yao croaks, “I was feeling a little under the weather from the long train ride. I’m a doctor, I’m fine.”

Then, “I’m really sorry about the door.”

“No worries. You’re a doctor at Jiahui International? That’s four streets away from here,” Chusheng smiles.

Lu Yao feels his dumb, traitorous heart leap at the sight of those curved lips.

“Yeah, this is the closest place I could find,” Lu Yao swallows. “You… What do you do?”

“I work at the precinct, it’s seven blocks away in the other direction,” Chusheng answers.

A police officer, Lu Yao thinks, just like…

Just like before.

“It’s almost time for dinner and I’ve got some ingredients in the fridge,” Chusheng says suddenly, getting to his feet. “Are you allergic to anything? I’ll do some seafood porridge and two light dishes.”

“Ah, you don’t have to go to the trouble-“

Lu Yao tries to get to his feet, but Chusheng pats at his shoulder, signalling for him to just lie down and take a good rest.

“Consider it a welcome dinner,” he winks. “I haven’t had many roommates that throw up right on the door the first time we meet.”

Lu Yao’s cheeks flame immediately and the nausea recedes momentarily. He’s not sure if he can manage without throwing up again, so he obeys and lies there, almost drifting off to the sound of Chusheng in the kitchen.

It feels as if he’s split into two - one part of him remembers another Qiao Chusheng from a long, long time ago, and the other part of him has met his own Qiao Chusheng now. Are they one and the same? If they are, it doesn’t seem as if this Qiao Chusheng suffers from the same dreams as he does, because the man didn’t even pause one bit at the sight of him earlier.

Smiling to himself a little, Lu Yao knows all he has is time. If the dreams are from a past life, a past life of love unfulfilled and soulmates who were doomed to part, then in this one, in this life…

Lu Yao will never let him go again.

He’s interrupted from his thoughts when a steaming hot bowl of porridge appears in front of him, and the scent has his stomach growling loudly.

“You’re too skinny,” Chusheng says, sitting down on the coffee table as he moves the bowl closer to Lu Yao. “Are all doctors as skinny as you are?”

“Have you seen a lot of doctors?”

Lu Yao asks, then grabs for the bowl thankfully as he sits up. His hand touches Chusheng’s unintentionally right at that moment, and Lu Yao draws in a sharp breath and jerks, as if the contact burnt him.

Chusheng is staring at him with an indescribable expression on his face.

Damn it, Lu Yao did not think so far earlier, how he would tell Qiao Chusheng that he has a matching mark on his own chest. He didn’t think the connection would be this strong either — in his dreams, he doesn’t recall this ever happening, otherwise maybe Lu Yao in the past would have gotten a clue, considering how often Qiao Chusheng touched him.

Quietly, as if entranced, Chusheng reaches out. His fingers lightly trail over the spot where Lu Yao’s soul mark should be, hidden underneath his shirt.

“… here?” he asks, eyes wide. “The same?”

Setting the bowl on the table next to Chusheng, Lu Yao unbuttons the top few buttons on his shirt, his fingers hesitant and a little clumsy. His cheeks are tinged slightly in red and even though he knows this is his soulmate, the man he's destined to spend the rest of his life with, this Qiao Chusheng is new to him.

“You didn’t say anything earlier when you saw mine,” Chusheng swallows, Lu Yao’s soul mark visible to him now.

“I was busy throwing up at your door,” reminds Lu Yao, and then because it’s a little ticklish, he grasps at Chusheng’s straying hand.

The grip brings Chusheng back to the present, but nothing can prepare Lu Yao for the wide, gorgeous smile that emerges on Chusheng’s face.

"You mean... our door," Chusheng replies cheekily.

It takes Lu Yao's breath away.

“Here, eat up, and we should… we should talk,” Chusheng says, already sounding like a naggy motherhen as he picks up the bowl again.

He watches a little reverently, so quiet as he watches Lu Yao eat, not forgetting to pick up some vegetables and meat from the two other dishes he cooked and place them in Lu Yao’s bowl whenever it looks a little empty.

Perhaps this Chusheng will never remember, Lu Yao wonders, it’s too soon to tell.

One thing is for certain — the way this Chusheng looks at him, and the way the past Qiao Chusheng looked at Lu Yao… it is exactly the same.

“What do you like to eat? I’ll do some grocery shopping later,” Chusheng suggests.

Lu Yao smiles then, remembering all the times this man bought breakfast and meals for him in a lifetime that is not his own.

“We can go together,” he says.

They have the rest of this life to figure it out.

#my roommate is a detective #mriad #chuyao #民国奇探 #ahhhh kind of back from writing hiatus i guess?#this has been in my askbox forever #sorry anon #thank you anon #soulmate!au #soulmark!au #reincarnation #fic

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blossom-hwa · 3 years

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Evanescent - FELIX

This drabble... this one has a soft spot in my heart. It was somewhat inspired by the Chinese legend of the silk weaver and the cowherd, and it’s my second favorite drabble so far, after Seungmin’s :)

(two more bingos completed! seasonal coffee/first snowfall/magic and jumping in a leaf pile/apple picking/first snowfall :D)

Unbeleafable prompt: first snowfall

Pairing: Felix x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, slight angst, seasons!au

Triggers: very, very slight allusions to death (nothing explicit)

Word Count: 1.7k

Evanescent: soon passing out of sight, memory, or existence; quickly fading or disappearing

The universe can try to keep you apart, but on the day of the first snow, Felix knows he’ll be in your arms.

Unbeleafable Masterlist | Stray Kids Drabbles Masterlist

Autumn is a transitory season, the interlude between summer’s blistering heat and winter’s shivering cold. The sun is out and though the wind has begun to cool, it’s still warm enough to run outside and play on the blankets of crunchy, fallen leaves.

Felix loves his season, does the best he can to make the transition from sunny warmth to snowy chill as smooth as possible. He gauges the breeze, sharpening it slightly when he feels a bit mischievous, warming it when he feels too cold. He watches the changing of the leaves, the transition from verdant green to rich red and muted brown, making sure they drift from their branches and fall as his Mother Earth requires.

One might say there’s always a lingering suspense in the air, though, hovering in the breeze as leaves turn orange and fall, blanketing the deadening grass. They might reason the cause as knowledge, the knowledge that this pleasantly cool weather will eventually fade and turn to frost and ice and sharp cold.

That’s well and true. Knowledge of the future always manages to mute the joy of the present. But what they don’t know is that their Felix, Lord of Autumn, Spirit of the Fallen Leaves, is the one who brings the slight melancholy to the air. For as joyful as their lord is, as bright as he makes the golden sunlight, dappling it through paper-thin leaves of scarlet and sunset orange, there is a reason behind the unsightly molding brown at the edges of those very same leaves.

For every fall, Felix waits. As he watches the trees and feels the wind, tends to the young branches about to undergo their first winter and soothes the old, dying trunks, he waits. He waits for the first sharp chill in the air that is not his, nipping cheeks and tousling hair and sending gusts of fallen leaves scattering across the roads. He waits for the arrival of the first frost, blackening the vines and coating the world in glittering ice. He waits for jet black hair, deep brown eyes, cold skin with the faintest tinge of pink but otherwise the color of snow.

He waits, lovelorn, for the one day in the year he will see the spirit that his Mother Earth, the Night Sky, and the universe have barred from him.

While he and his siblings, Chan and Jeongin, were born of the Earth, you and your brother, Minho, were fashioned from the Night. It was unfair, the Night Sky spoke, that the Mother Earth should give so much warmth and joy all throughout the year. There must be balance, she argued, and the universe agreed.

So the winter twins were formed, with pale skin and brown eyes, straight hair streaking to the ground. With chilling gazes and cold hands, you and Minho brought frost and ice and snow to the Earth, sent sharp winds to counter the blustery breezes of summer. By all accounts, no one should have fallen for anyone, not when the warm spirits of Earth were so different from the frigid children of Night. Friends, maybe. But not love.

Yet Felix fell for black hair and brown eyes, for the playfulness in your heart that froze the ponds into ice rinks for the children, that softened the snow enough for play. You fell, too, for tanned skin and freckled cheeks, for the gentleness in his gaze that warmed chilling winds for the tired and the poor, that cultivated the trees and laid their limbs to rest when their journey on the Earth was over.

But it was forbidden. Balance, the universe scolded, black Night and green Earth looking on in anger and disapproval. A son of the Earth cannot love a daughter of the Night. You must be separated, or you could bring tragedy to us all.

You begged. He pleaded. The powers above did not relent. So you sent blizzards upon the earth, buried life beneath smothering heaps of snow. He recused himself from the people, let the breezes fly and the leaves turn without care. His brothers didn’t plead with him, only cared for him and went on with their duties, the cold judgment in their faces aimed at the many-eyed heavens.

Balance? Felix thought one day, gazing stonily beyond the sky. We can show them what a true absence of balance means.

So it was the universe’s turn to plead after a century of separation, decades of bodies resting under never-ending whirling snow, of harvests ruined by winter come too early or summer extended too late. And as he stood by your side, staring into the powerful eyes of the heavens, Felix did not feel an ounce of regret.

One day, the universe finally conceded. On one day, the day that autumn shifts to winter, you will meet.

You clenched your fists, skin turning even whiter under the pressure of your fingers. Felix wanted to do the same.

But the universe is powerful. Though the powers above may have tolerated your dismissal for some years, they could still very well turn a harsh sentence on either of you if you disagreed again. You knew this.

Tight-lipped, you agreed. So did he.

And now he waits, year after year, for the season’s first snow.

He never knows exactly when you will come. Sometimes you’re a bit late, sometimes a bit early. Strict timing has never been the way of the sky, after all – approximations are perfectly all right, even when it comes to the seasons. But he can sense your arrival in the wind’s chill, the windows’ frost. And when he feels it, he smiles.

He’s at home when white flakes begin falling from the sky. At first, he thinks it’s a trick of the light – maybe a flash of a nearby candle messing with his vision. But then there’s a knock on the glass, and Felix nearly breaks a leg scrambling to open the window.

Your twin’s brown eyes sparkle into his, glowing like a cat’s in the dark. “She’s waiting for you,” Minho says, lips curled into the slightest smile.

Felix doesn’t even know what he says in reply. He just knows that he slams the window shut as soon as he can and bolts out the door, racing for the spot in the forest where you always, always meet.

The snow has started falling in earnest by the time he arrives at the edge of the trees, out of breath and shivering slightly (why did he forget to bring a coat, again?). Barely able to keep the grin off his face, he begins running through the soft snow.

He feels your presence more than sees you at first. The air turns a note colder, biting at his tanned skin with a sharp nip that makes him regret not bringing a coat even more (his fall skin wasn’t made for the chill, damn it all). The wind swirls harder, faster in his ears, snow pelting from the sky in huge, soft flakes.

Then a pale figure in the shadows turns around, and everything evaporates from Felix’s senses except you.

Snow flies from the ground as you rush to each other, white skin clashing with tan, swirling brown eyes staring into hazel. For a moment, you only look, drinking in the sight of each other’s faces, taking in every second that passes in the other’s presence.

Your hands are bitterly cold against Felix’s warm arms. Slowly, gently, so as not to break the spell, Felix slides his hands down your skin to entwine your fingers with his. Time has taught him not to flinch at your physical chill – he knows the heart inside is warmer than the sun.

“Hi,” he finally breathes, voice barely audible over the sound of the whirling winter wind.

You just crush your lips to his in response.

Later, the two of you will walk around the forest in the darkness of the early morning and watch the sunrise from the hill you found decades ago. You’ll probably conjure a coat or something out of nowhere and put it on him, teasing him for his thin skin made for the sun. He might take you on a trip to the nearby village, disguising yourselves as a young couple, and exchange a few trinkets with you along the way.

Night will fall eventually, and the spirits of the seasons will come together for one meal, laughing and joking until the candles burn out, and then you’ll take him back to the forest. There, you’ll talk and kiss and simply enjoy the other’s presence, silently counting down the minutes, the seconds until the last kiss before midnight strikes and Felix disappears for another year.

But for now, he loses himself in your icy grip, letting his warmth bleed a bit of color into your skin, allowing your freezing fingers to chill his own. He kisses your cold lips over and over, breaking away only to enjoy the way your eyes look, frosty and warm at the same time.

Some might wonder if such a love is worth it, if one day of pure bliss is worth a full year of waiting. On his loneliest days, Felix sometimes feels inclined to think the same. But then he remembers your smile, your touch, and he knows that he would wait decades, centuries, millennia to feel your arms wrapped around him just once again.

One year, really, is a small price to pay.

You kiss him again, soft and quick, and Felix feels you smile against his lips just before you pull away. “Sorry,” you finally whisper, eyes flashing with the playful cheer that stole his heart so many centuries ago. Your throaty voice, sweet and grating and harsh, sprinkled with the wildness of your blizzard winds, sounds like bells in Felix’s ears. “I just missed you a lot.”

Felix feels himself melting into your touch as you gently brush ice crystals out of his hair. The soft look on your face sparkles like the falling snow, and his heart swells with love.

He smiles.

“I missed you too.”

#starryktown #inkidz #unbeleafable bingo #stray kids #skz #stray kids felix #felix #stray kids scenarios #stray kids felix scenarios #skz scenarios #fluff #angst #seasons!au #evanescent #scriptura-delirus

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notapaladin · 3 years

Text

we are all walking each other home

Did anyone order plotless summer family fluff by the pool with snow cones? No? Too bad, that’s all I got. In which Acatl and Teomitl and their family have a good day.

Also on AO3!

If the young and devastatingly attractive Revered Speaker of Tenochtitlan wanted to invite his Imperial Consort’s close family to the palace to stave off the heat of the rainy season in his gardens and pools, none of them were going to gainsay him—especially not Acatl. Though his obligations nagged at him, he could set them down for a few hours to spend time with his brother and sisters. It would be nice to simply rest for once; Teomitl insisted it was the least he deserved.

Though I’m not sure how restful this is going to be, he thought. The gardens Teomitl had inherited from his predecessors were certainly lovely enough, all lush greenery and tiled fountains, even if they couldn’t measure up to his lover’s dreams for his own under-construction palace across the Sacred Precinct from Acatl’s temple. If they’d been left alone to walk the paths and stretch out under the trees, Acatl imagined he’d find it comfortable enough. But they weren’t alone, and that made all the difference. He was glad to have mended his relationship with his other sisters, he loved his nieces and nephews to distraction, but all of them together in the same space was...

“Ollin, stop running by the water! You’ll fall!”

“So then I said to Citlalli, I said...”

“And nobody’s offered for you yet, Coaxoch? Why, when I was your age—”

“Auntie!”

...Well. It was a lot.

He’d claimed a seat at the farthest end of one of the intricately dyed reed mats Teomitl had had spread out, watching the chaos unfold from under the shade of a sprawling tree. Ollin had not stopped running; he and a few of his similarly aged cousins had all gotten into what appeared to be an impromptu game of tag with Acatl’s dog Miton, who was yipping up a delighted storm and wagging his tail so fast it was an orange-tipped blur. His sisters Nelli and Icnoyotl had shown up gossiping about something someone’s brother had done and hadn’t so much as paused for breath since, with their husbands providing increasingly colorful—and increasingly loud—commentary. Mihmatini, enormously pregnant, had lowered herself into the waist-deep pool nearby and kept dropping down to dunk her entire body underwater in a way that suggested she was trying to either muffle her nephews’ shrieking or grow gills, whichever happened first. And Teomitl?

Teomitl was in his element. He’d shed all his finery save for the emerald piercing his septum—still too new to be removed so soon in the healing process—but he didn’t need any, not with the way he was crouched down and beaming at Nelli’s fourth daughter showing him a bug she’d caught. It could have melted a stone; Acatl’s heart didn’t stand a chance. He knew he was smiling helplessly, knew his adoration would be clear to anyone so much as sparing him a passing glance, but just then he didn’t care. I love you. I love you. You’re going to be a wonderful father.

“My lords!”

A few of his family members twitched. Nobody except Teomitl seemed to think that the servants carrying trays loaded with bowls of compacted mountain snow and pitchers of fruit juice were talking to them; he, meanwhile, sprang up and announced, “Ices for everyone! Excellent, set them down just there.”

“We get ice?!” That was Nelli’s daughter, her voice rising in a delighted shriek.

“You get ice,” Mihmatini informed her, accepting Teomitl’s arm to heave herself out of the pool with a grunt. “Eat it before it melts.”

Nobody quite swarmed the trays—they were all too polite or too overawed by the match their Mihmatini had made—but there was a general purposeful drift in that direction. Even Teomitl’s gray-and-white hound Ehecatzin slunk over hopefully to try to steal some; when one of Acatl’s brothers-in-law nudged him away, he settled for being scratched behind the ears. Miton, more singleminded, had to be ordered to sit. Acatl watched, finding himself disinclined to move. It was true that snow carried down from the mountains was a treat reserved for those of imperial blood or imperial alliances, especially on such a hot day, but he didn’t really feel like inserting himself into the crowd when everyone was debating fruit toppings.

Eventually, Teomitl padded over with a bowl in each hand, stretching out his long legs as he sat down. It was closer than he ought to be with so many eyes around them, but once again Acatl found he couldn’t really mind. Not when Teomitl was quirking up a smile as he set down a bowl of pineapple-drenched ice for him.

“Brought you some,” he said quietly. Not that he needed to keep his voice down; there was no way to put two dogs and over a dozen people in one space and not have it be loud enough to drown out any conversation they might have. Still, Acatl appreciated the discretion.

He picked up the bowl, noting that Teomitl’s own was the violently pink shade only pitaya fruit juice could give. The runners were fast and the ice had been stored well; it was still cold enough to chill his fingers through the clay. “I would have gotten up.”

“You looked comfortable.” There was another of those soft, sunny smiles, and he couldn’t help smiling in return.

“Mm. So did you.” His lover was always at his best in a friendly crowd, laughing and joking until his family saw past the jade and turquoise to the man beneath. All that energy needed a purpose. Rather like our dogs, he mused, but he knew better than to ever say that out loud even if they did all share a tendency to snore.

Teomitl shifted a little closer, so that they almost touched. The fingers of his free hand twitched as though he wanted to twine them with Acatl’s own. “I’m more comfortable here.”

Then he licked at his half-melted cup of snow, erasing all chances of Acatl managing to reply. The fruit juice was staining his lips and tongue; though he was graceful as he usually was when eating, a drop clung to the corner of his mouth and Acatl itched to brush it away. He didn’t. He wasn’t sure he could move. Teomitl made a soft noise of pure pleasure that sent a lightning surge of want through his veins, and he couldn’t look away. “Ngh.”

Teomitl cast a glance at him from under lowered lashes, lips curving in a wicked smile. “Hm?”

They couldn’t possibly be any more in public. Taking a deep breath, he wrenched his mind away from memories of what that tongue could do. “Nothing.”

Teomitl hummed, smugly pleased with himself, and motioned to their bowls. “Have some. It’s good.”

He studied his bowl for a moment before trying it; there were chunks of fruit as well as juice, cold and sweet enough to make his teeth hurt. The pain was well worth it, because it was delicious. He let his eyes slide closed as he ate, focusing on the sensations around him—the warmth of the sun through dappled shade, the chill of the ice on his tongue, the tingling awareness of Teomitl’s body next to his, the happy chatter of his nieces and nephews and siblings. He caught slivers of conversation too, Necalli’s first campaign and Nelli’s recipe for washing blood from dyed cotton mingling in his ears. His heart felt like a tiny sun.

This is what makes life living. He inhaled, breathing in the scents of fruit and crushed grass and warm water. The flowers, the jade. Mihmatini was right.

Eventually, all the ice was gone. He was aware of his siblings’ conversations around him; two of his brothers-in-law were discussing the weather with the grave importance it deserved, while his sisters were discussing Mihmatini’s pregnancy with a frankness that was turning Icnoyotl’s always-squeamish husband Chimalli slightly green. The children, unsurprisingly, were the first to throw themselves back into the water; Neutemoc and Chimalli were next, theoretically to keep an eye on them but actually to tow the smallest ones around in the water while they screeched with joy. Teomitl, still eyeing the remains of his ice as though there might possibly be some fruit left, actually set the bowl down and perked up at the sight.

Acatl nudged him. “Go on, help them corral the flock. It’ll be good practice for you.”

Teomitl’s smile was a little crooked, a little helpless, and terribly endearing. “I hope the baby gets along with its cousins.”

“They’ll certainly have plenty of options,” he replied dryly. Between Neutemoc’s five and all his sisters’ spawn, Teomitl’s child would have over a dozen cousins to play with by the time it was born. As always when he thought of it, he sent a brief mental prayer to the gods for Mihmatini’s continued health. She’s the Guardian of the Sacred Precinct. The Imperial Consort of the Revered Speaker. And she’d have my head for fretting over her.

“...They will.” Now the smile was wistful. “Your family is wonderful.”

He nudged him a little harder. “Our family. Or did you forget you chose this?”

Mihmatini was sliding back into the pool, and Teomitl’s eyes followed her for a moment. His fingers just barely grazed the back of Acatl’s hand. “Hmm. I did choose this, didn’t I?”

Then Teomitl left his side and plunged into the water, and he realized that he had perhaps miscalculated.

His lover was always beautiful, whether he was in a warrior’s armor or all the gold and feathers of his office. Even in the plainest clothing, the curve of his cheekbones and the brightness of his smile could take Acatl’s breath away. He’d thought, with the years they’d been together, that nothing could surprise him anymore.

Duality preserve him, he was wrong. He’d never seen Teomitl like this—all rippling water and rippling muscle, laughing and shaking water from his hair as Mihmatini splashed him playfully and Ollin clung whooping to his arm. Droplets hung sparkling in the sunlight like stars, running in rivulets down the well-sculpted lines of his chest and stomach. Surrounded by water—surrounded by family, head flung back in brilliant careless joy—he was more magnificent than he’d been at his coronation. Acatl had just eaten, but he felt as hungry as Toci. I love you. The words beat in tune with his heart. I want you.

Every line of his body felt like a taut bowstring, but he couldn’t move. If he moved, he was going to do something stupid.

Neutemoc’s voice snapped him out of his trance. His brother leaned on his elbows at the edge of the pool, water dripping off him onto the tiles, and flashed him a tired grin. “I’m sweating just looking at you, Acatl. Join us!”

“Nhm,” he managed.

Teomitl lowered Ollin back into the water and gave Acatl a grin of his own. “Please?”

Well, it was hot. But he was still strangely reluctant to move, and it took a long moment before he could stand up, stretch well enough that something in his back stopped complaining, and amble over to the water. The sun hadn’t warmed it as much as he thought; when he slid down into it, he had to clench his teeth at the chill. For a while he simply stood next to his brother, watching their family play.

Neutemoc elbowed him. “See? Told you it was better in the water.”

He nodded. True, they were surrounded by bright flowers and screaming life, but it was...peaceful, here. It reminded him of his childhood, before their father had died and everything had started to go so wrong. No. He shook his head, banishing that line of thought. Today had been wonderful so far, and that was how it would stay. He was standing in cool, clear water with a belly full of delicious food and his family around him. His nieces had roped Teomitl into some sort of splash-based war that involved a great deal of high-pitched giggling on all sides, whereas his older nephews were skipping the splashing in favor of an impromptu and very messy wrestling match. He was on the sidelines, content to observe.

And then someone’s errant flailing limb sprayed him with a fine mist, and he jolted out of his reverie.

“Sorry!” Teomitl called. It would have sounded much more sincere if he wasn’t grinning.

“Hrmph,” he grumbled, closing his eyes. He knew he was failing at suppressing his own smile, and Teomitl must be able to see it.

The peace of his immediate surroundings didn’t last long. The sounds of splashing water grew louder and closer, and his nieces’ shrieks took on the sort of gleeful pitch he associated with trouble. Oh no.

That was all the warning he got before a gout of water arced down and drenched him completely. He yelped, inhaling water, and as he coughed and spluttered and caught his breath he decided that someone was about to be in deep trouble. Grimacing, he scraped his hair back from his face, blinked water out of his eyes, and looked around for the perpetrator.

The unrepentant perpetrator. “You looked hot?”

He took a deep breath and leveled a glare at his lover. “Teomitl.”

“Ah,” Teomitl began.

And then Acatl taught him one of the benefits of growing up with a brother close in age. Namely, when you had someone who was willing and able to throw you into the nearest body of water at any opportunity, you got very good at fighting back in kind. He pushed off from the wall, wading rapidly towards him; before Teomitl could scramble out of range, Acatl’s arm came up to splash him in the face. “You asked for this!”

Teomitl danced out of the way, a grin splitting his face, and wasted no time splashing Acatl back. “Is it war, then?!”

It was war. Their nieces and nephews joined in, splashing both of them indiscriminately; Acatl reeled under the onslaught, but managed to stay on his feet no matter the weight of his wet hair. Teomitl was stronger than he was, but unused to fighting such a battle. It was easy to back him against the edge of the pool. And then the dogs, wanting to be a part of the fun, plunged into the water in a cacophony of howls and a storm of wagging tails, and he had to stagger back as Miton all but flopped on top of him.

“Bad dog—ack!” Opening his mouth was a mistake, for Teomitl took advantage of his distraction to splash his face again. He glared at his lover through the curtain of his dripping hair.

Teomitl took one look at his face and his eyes went wide; Acatl had a moment of satisfaction before his lover ducked sideways, dodging behind a very surprised Necalli. “Protect me!”

Just as quickly, Necalli darted out of the way. “My lord uncle, you are on your own.”

Teomitl was the furthest thing from a coward, but evidently he had learned when discretion was to be the better part of valor. He turned and waded rapidly for the far edge of the pool.

“Get back here--!”

Teomitl laughed brightly. “You’ll have to catch me first, Acatl!”

Oh, so that’s how it is. Feeling his face split into an unaccustomed grin, Acatl ran after him. Teomitl was younger, faster, and in better shape; but when he heaved himself out of the water and took off down the path, Acatl wasn’t too far behind. As he ran, he realized he didn’t have a plan, but he didn’t need one; it was a beautiful summer day, his blood was pumping, and he was alive. That was all that mattered. Teomitl swerved around a densely-flowered shrub, and he followed.

Whoever had planned the layout of the palace gardens had desired privacy; it was darker and quieter here, the chaos of the pool muffled by the greenery. Anything beyond that Acatl didn’t have a chance to absorb, however, because Teomitl was grabbing him and pulling him into a hot, hungry kiss.

Oh.

That was the last coherent thought he had for a while. His mind was full of Teomitl—of the heat of his wet skin, the strength of the arms around him, the way he still tasted of pitaya juice and mountain snow. One hand settled at his waist; the other slid up into his hair, burying into the thick strands until a soft growl of pleasure reverberated through them both. His body knew just what to do, arching to press himself even closer, and when he dug his nails into Teomitl’s back he was rewarded with a whine. If he didn’t need to breathe, he could have kissed him for hours.

When Teomitl pulled away, mouth red and eyes glittering with desire, he whispered, “I missed you. I’ve been wanting to do that all day.”

He wasn’t the only one. But before he could say that, a calloused hand slid down his spine, and Acatl sucked in a hard breath at the way Teomitl’s hips pressed against his own. His blood was still up, but now all that simmering energy was alert to a new purpose. “It’s only been a few hours.”

Teomitl’s expression turned wicked as that hand reached his ass, giving it a lingering squeeze. “And? You’re irresistable.”

Perhaps there was the occasional downside to having such a young and enthusiastic lover, he thought. Out loud, he huffed, “The children will hear us.”

“They’re playing with the dogs.”

The barking, splashing, and cheering ringing through the gardens were loud enough to muffle them—if they were careful. Still, Acatl bit his lip and shook his head. Children were one thing; his nosy sisters were another thing entirely. “My siblings will hear us.”

Teomitl scowled lightly at that. “Am I Revered Speaker or not?”

“Teomitl!” he hissed.

The scowl vanished as though it had never been. Teomitl lowered his head to nuzzle at Acatl’s throat, voice so soft it was almost inaudible. Any sweetness was tempered by the way he drew his nails lightly up the column of Acatl’s spine, hard enough to sting pleasantly but not enough to leave a mark. As his lover’s lips moved against his skin, Acatl shivered. “We’ll be quiet.”

It was tempting. Gods, it was tempting. Teomitl kissed him again, long and slow, and he felt his resolve weakening. His family could entertain themselves for a few minutes, surely. Half an hour. He would prefer more time—would prefer to give Teomitl his full attention all night—but he wasn’t a fool to turn down what was so freely offered. The breeze was cold in the shade, but that didn’t matter when his lover was so warm in his arms, the slide of skin on skin setting his blood on fire. “Mmm...”

“Come on,” Teomitl breathed, and shifted to press a thigh between his legs. Acatl found himself wishing briefly and desperately that they’d have the forethought to hide against something solid, but then Teomitl was mouthing at his throat and he wasn’t thinking anything at all.

“Nngh...” At any other time, he might have been embarrassed at the whine that escaped him, but shame was very far away at the moment. His self-control was hanging only be a few very thin threads, and only the din of his family gathering not nearly far enough away was keeping it in place. We could. They’re having fun without us; they won’t be looking for us yet. But...

But they could. Of course Mihmatini knew, and he was almost sure that Neutemoc did as well, though of course they’d never discussed it beyond the most vague assurances that yes, he was perfectly happy—but his other sisters were clueless, and the thought of their reactions if they discovered him in Teomitl’s arms was enough to turn his bones to ice. Reluctantly, he panted, “No. We shouldn’t.”

Teomitl sighed and pulled back, but he kept Acatl within the circle of his arms as though he couldn’t bear to let him go. “I hate when you’re reasonable.”

“No, you don’t,” he murmured fondly.

When Acatl lifted a hand to cup his cheek, Teomitl tilted his head into it with a faint stirring of a smile. “...No, I don’t.”

There was a particularly loud splash from the direction of the pool, and Acatl winced. “Let’s get back before they wonder where we’ve gone.”

“Mm.” With one final caress, Teomitl let him go. “Alright.”

Later, there would be dinner; later, there would be dancers and musicians to entertain them. Later, he and Teomitl would be properly alone. But for now, they would bask in the warmth of their family and the bonds they’d made.

#obsidian and blood #acatl #teomitl #mihmatini #neutemoc #teocatl #mihmitl #neutemoc's brood #paladin writes stuff

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elsanna-shenanigans · 3 years

Text

December Contest Submission #10: Waves

Words: ca. 3100 Setting: Canon Lemon: No CW: Anxiety, Depression, angst

—

I have been running for so long.

Days. Months. Years. I stopped counting.

My lungs burned with each intake of breathe. The frigid air scorching like a frozen flame. My limbs ached from being forced into constant motion and the cold weighed down my body with a stiffness all to familiar.

But the cold, it did not bother me. I can feel it in every fiber of my being and I welcome the cold. After all, it numbed the pain inside my head. It surrounds me in a shield of ice that keeps me safe.

Everything I do, everything I know is surrounded by cold and no amount of running would change that. No amount of movement on my own would bring any form of warmth to my body or my soul.

But I can’t stop running.

To even think of stopping terrified me to the point the world around me blurred and all I can see is the white coldness of the barren landscape that surrounds me.

I kept running.

—-

“Mmfph! Anna!” Elsa pulled away from Anna’s lips with a laugh. Anna tucked a strand of her loose red-hair behind her ear before giving her sister another quick kiss and pulled away to sit in her lap.

“What was that for?” she chuckled.

“I called your name nearly two dozen times and you didn’t respond. True Love’s kiss always works in fairytales and I thought it couldn’t hurt to try.” Anna shrugged and leaned against the winter-blonde. Pale arms wrapped around her and pulled her tight. A nose buried itself in red-hair, loving the scent that was so distinctly Anna.

The two had been enjoying a picnic out in the woods beyond Arendelle. A quiet area where they could be alone. The season of winter had rolled in not long ago, but they had yet to see much snow and the air while frigid had not turned biting cold. A good day for a quiet moment together.

A blanket had been laid out underneath one of the larger trees and despite the chill in the air they were comfortable. The two enjoyed the food the kitchen staff had so thoughtfully prepared and while Elsa no longer lived in the castle she would always be sure to thank them for everything whenever she came to visit.

“Wasn’t I in the middle of eating a sandwich?”

Anna looked over her shoulder an impish grin on her face. “What sandwich?”

Elsa laughed hard, her shoulders shaking. “I can’t believe you.” she said nuzzling into red-hair once more still laughing. Anna said nothing, only enjoying the joy radiating from her sister. They sat together, enjoying the feeling of being with the other.

“You’re awfully cuddly today, ya know. Not that I’m complaining,” Anna said after a moment’s silence.

Elsa smiled, “You’re warm.”

Anna hummed and reached a hand around to idly scratch the back of Elsa’s head. “And here I thought the cold didn’t bother you.”

Elsa leaned into her sister’s touch, ice-blue eyes closing in delight. She huffed, “I can still feel the cold silly. That’s why I enjoy your warmth so much, is that such a crime?”

Anna turned and pressed her lips to Elsa’s cheek. The winter-blonde could feel Anna’s smile as she spoke, “A crime of passion perhaps.”

The two broke into light laughter at the comment before settling in each others embrace once more.

Elsa’s gaze shifted to somewhere in the distance. Her mind drifting off again before a warm hand embraced her own and a sweet voice cut through the fog before it could settle in.

“Do you often get lost inside your head?” Sea-green eyes looked into ice-blue searching their depths as the glazed over look faded.

Elsa sighed and hunched over loosening her hold on the red-head, “More than I realize.”

Anna sensed there was more to her sister’s drifting off and sat up, worry evident on her face. Elsa looked away as she continued, hands plucking at the grass, “Ever since that day in Ahtohallan when I di– when I–” Anna gave Elsa’s thigh a gentle squeeze. She didn’t have to say it if she couldn’t, Anna already understood. “I went too deep then. And my mind has been drifting more that I’m away in the forest. Without you near it feels like half of my soul is missing.”

Her eyes lined with silver as she turned and looked back at her sister, the Queen, raw sadness leaking out of her icy-depths and shaking her voice. “Without you near I fear I may go to deep and never come back.”

Anna’s heart ached for her sister and she pulled her in tight as the winter-blonde wept. She understood the distance was hard on them both. She understood they both had separate responsibilities and what some might even call separate destinies. Her eyes hardened and she internally scoffed at that. Destiny could kiss her ass. If they weren’t meant to be together then she would have never brought Elsa back from the North Mountain, would have never went with her to the Enchanted Forest. No, whatever the world would have for them, they were supposed to do it together. This separation, this distance, was slowly destroying them and she would not have any bit of it.

Anna held Elsa tighter as a new wave of sobs wracked through her body. Maybe the distance was necessary for a time, a time for them to figure things out and come to decisions on their own, but that had been done in a few months time. Feelings were realized, and of course Elsa fought it for a bit, but the two eventually realized they could not be without the other. Sisters or lovers or whatever they were to be, they were to be together. The two of them just had to find a way. They would find a way.

When Elsa finally pulled back, Anna smiled gently and wiped away the few stray tears. Elsa grasped Anna’s hand on her cheek and pressed a kiss to her palm. She smiled and Anna smiled back. “If you start to go to deep,” she said, “remember you’re not going alone.”

More tears filled Elsa’s eyes at the declaration. Instead of letting herself cry more she pulled Anna in for a rough and sloppy kiss. Her emotions so raw and so open. Anna readily accepted whatever method her sister used to express those emotions. Words were often a struggle for them both. One used too many, the other could never find them. They found a way around it, one that pleased them both.

They both lay panting, half on the blanket, half on the grass. A bright smile spread across Anna’s face and was echoed back faintly on Elsa’s own.

“How-how do you come back when I’m not with you?” Anna asked after a moment. She was unsure if it would bring the moment down and didn’t want to upset Elsa, but she had to be sure when they were apart that Elsa would be okay.

Elsa looked toward the trees again a smile still on her face and a light in her eyes. “Bruni.”

Anna sat up at that. “Bruni?”

Elsa returned her gaze to her sister and admired her figure in the sunlight. “He’s figured out that all it takes is a bit of warmth to bring me back from the cold deep.”

Anna nodded and thought for a moment before saying, “Let me guess he jumps on your face and lights himself on fire.”

Elsa chuckled and reached for Anna’s hand who gladly accepted. “He usually tries my hand or my shoulders first, but yes sometimes I come back to a flaming salamander on my face.”

“That sounds like something I’d like a photograph of.” Anna grinned.

“Oh, I’m sure you would.”

Silence fell and Elsa found herself resting her head on Anna’s lap. Anna gently massaged her scalp and played with her winter-blonde hair admiring the softness of it. Sometimes she couldn’t believe hair this beautiful and soft could be real. She paused as a thought struck her.

“Would you like to stay with me in Arendelle for a few days, at least until you’re feeling a bit better?”

Elsa’s smile faded.

“There’s nothing more I want than to be with you,” she said and sat up, “But the forest, the people, I can’t just-they’re my home-I have-I can’t-!” She folded in on herself, wrapping her arms around her stomach and curling up.

The sudden change alarmed Anna. She knew her sister struggled with these things, but had not realize it had gotten this bad. Elsa couldn’t even think of doing something for herself, leaving the comfort of her own home without panic setting in. It broke Anna’s heart.

“Hey, shh, shh.” Anna rubbed Elsa’s back in soothing circles, “Deep breath.”

Elsa did as instructed albeit shaky and broken.

“There. Good girl.”

The pair continued like this, Anna muttering sweet nothings to help calm Elsa down. She didn’t uncurl from herself, but her shoulders relaxed, no longer pressed up to her ears and her muscles no longer tensed.

—-

Waves of dark water stood before me in the barren world. A warning to stop running, to face what I have been afraid to.

The waves did not stop me. I did not falter when I reached the water’s edge. I kept running ahead. The cold freezing each step atop the water. It would not touch me, would not stop me.

I didn’t get far when something pulled tight making me stumble. I looked down at the frozen waves beneath me, breath billowing in the cold air. A shimmer of light, a thread caught my attention. Had it always been there?

The thread slackened a bit as if the other side had moved closer. I almost didn’t want to look back and see what I’m connected to. The thought of something there scared me.

The waves rolled on ahead and I stood panting, staring at the dark water. I could keep going. I needed to keep going, but the thread. I took a step, then two and the thread pulled tight again. It stayed tight on the other end

I turned to see.

A girl. A girl I know, stood waist deep in the dark water. I may be able to freeze the waves beneath me, but she could not. Yet she stood in the waves, the thread connecting her to me and me to her.

I stared at her and she stared at me.

I did not know I had been connected with anyone, that she had been running as I have been running.

My heart started to hammer at the sight of her and I wanted to turn and run, but this thread-

The girl stepped back and I stumbled from the pull.

She looked at me with pleading eyes, begging me to come back.

The girl could go no further else the waves would consume her. She stretched out her hand to me letting me choose.

I looked at the strained thread.

It would be so easy to sever it. Save the girl from following and suffering and simply continue running. The pain it would cause would be immense. The pain I deserved to feel, but I couldn’t make her suffer. Never her, not anymore.

I looked down to the frozen water beneath my feet. The girl holding onto that thread, willing me to stay. She would follow if went, even if it destroyed her.

Stay, sever and run, or let her follow and destroy herself.

Why didn’t she just pull me to her, pull me away from the water?

She took a step toward me and stretched out her hand further. She would not push me, would not force me one way or the other.

The choice is mine and mine alone.

—-

Anna wrapped her arms around Elsa from behind and gently pressed her body against her. “I’m not asking you to leave and come live in Arendelle again. But I do think you need a break, need some time for yourself. And I’m asking if you’d like to spend that time with me.”

Elsa smiled faintly, tears streaming down her cheeks and nods.

Anna relaxed and laid down pulling Elsa gently with her. Elsa instantly grabbed onto Anna and buried her head in the red-head’s neck. She held on tightly fearing if she let go just a bit her sister would fade away and there would be nothing left but the black waves dragging her deeper and deeper.

“I’ll write Yelana and tell her where you’ll be for a bit.”

“Thank you.”

Anna was content to leave it at that, just enjoy each others company for a bit longer before the light began to fade and they would have to head back to Arendelle. Elsa would have been fine with the silence, wrapped up in each others embrace, but she found herself voicing her thoughts aloud after only a few moments.

“I wish you could come and stay in the forest with me.”

Anna turned and pressed a few quick kisses to Elsa’s lips surprising her. “I would gladly go with you. This, being Queen, I should have paid attention more in my studies or at least learned to control my temper better.”

Elsa giggled at that and Anna’s heart soared at the sound. She was laughing and that was good. “Ah I take it the council meetings aren’t much of a peaceful discussion then?”

Anna snorted, “Half that time they are, but I get so irate sitting for so long and end up shouting in anger without realizing. They’re learning it’s best to have some sort of activity going on while we have our meetings.”

“At least they didn’t result to chaining you to a chair while they talk.” Elsa grinned.

Anna winked back, “No, I’ll leave that for you to do when you’re talking between my legs.” Elsa made a sound somewhere between a choke and a laugh at the statement.

“Whatever you desire my Queen.”

“And if I desire to spend every waking moment next to you?”

“Well you know where to find me if you ever tire of your royal obligations.”

Anna pinched Elsa’s cheek who swatted at the offending hand. “As much as I really want to run away with you, Arendelle can’t be left without a crown.”

“Hmm-.” Elsa hummed in mock thought. “Do you think the townsfolk would mind if Honeymaren took your place?”

Anna blinked before laughing, “I don’t know. They think I do pretty well and she can’t be a more awkward or restless Queen than I am.”

“I don’t think you’re awkward, you deal with the people well.”

Anna huffed and said, “Well you haven’t heard of all the situations I find myself in. I mean who’s ever heard of their Queen being stuck up a chimney!”

Elsa pulled back and stared at Anna in surprise and bewilderment. “How even- I suppose the castle is more lively than ever.”

Anna pulled Elsa back against her. “You’ll see for yourself soon enough.”

Elsa hummed as Anna began playing with her hair again an act to keep her calm and act to keep her present. “Tell me more, about your little Queenly adventures.”

And Anna did. The stories were more or less nothing, little situations that most would brush off, but Anna always managed to tell the most simple stories in the most dramatic way. From sneaking into the kitchen to a grand escape through the halls of the castle. Discovering a family of rabbits living in the royal garden, and many more tales. They all filled Elsa with joy of being with her sister, the one she loved.

For through it all, all of her personal struggles, Anna was always there. Yes, they had disagreements and petty fights, but they always found a way back to each other. The thread of fate pulled taught, because one could not go where the other tried in the depths of her mind. One who faced the waves atop frozen steps and the other waist deep, desperate to keep going, but unable to do so without losing herself.

—-

A choice.

A choice to stay or go. A choice to risk breaking everything that I had been running from and running for.

My choice.

We stared at each other. I could feel the tears well up in my eyes and drip down. The girl smiled softly and nodded her head urging me to come to her.

One step.

Two steps.

More and more till the thread was no longer pulled taught and I was no longer above the waves. She embraced me then. Tears falling down and adding to the water around us.

She did not pull me out, she did not force me away. The girl merely held onto me as I clung to her.

The cold faded.

Together we moved a few paces back to shore, but not out of the water. I was not ready. She did not force me out and instead stayed beside me.

Together we sat in the shallow water.

I realized then as we watched the waves thundering on in the distance that I had been running to protect myself from everything I couldn’t face. I thought I had to go it alone, but I had been wrong.

She had been with me the entire time.

I grasped her hand in mine and laid my head on her shoulder.

Anyone else would have gone, would have left me or forced me down some path I did not wish to go.

But not her. Never her.

She would sit with me, through all my troubles and all my dark times. She would not yell or cry out and blame, no, she would sit and bear it with me.

Together in the waves she would stay beside me for as long as I needed.

—-

Elsa felt warm lips moving against hers once more. She must have drifted off again. “Okay, okay!” she laughed as Anna kept peppering kisses all over her face. “I’m here, I’m here.” Anna hummed and gave her one more kiss and Elsa sighed happily.

“Thank you.”

Anna grinned and tickled Elsa lightly, “For being the best sister or being the best lover?”

Elsa squirmed and laughed at the fingers dancing on her skin.

For keeping me from going to deep. She wanted to say, but didn’t. Elsa found herself wrapped in the embrace of her sister, her lover, her warmth and smiled softly up at Anna,

“For keeping me warm.”

#elsanna #submission #december 2020 contest #prompt: warmth #cw: angst #cw: anxiety #cw: depression

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harrypotterthehufflepuff · 4 years

Text

Fool

This was requested by: @oingo223

Request: If you want to, could you write a Fred Weasly imagine based off of the song "Fool for Love" by Lord Huron. Also I love your writing and appreciate what you do! And if you don't want to write this that is totally okay, and if you do then thank you so much!

~ ~ ~ ~

This was Amazing to do! I used the lyrics as dialogue .I hope it turned out as you wanted. I decided to write the reader as in first person and then explain what happened to Fred. And I hope that’s okay even though I’m pretty sure that’s not really how it works BUT WHATEVER, just enjoyyy <3

I highlited the parts where I’m using the lyrics.

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Warnings: swearing, blood, fighting.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

Word Count: 2.2 k

If you’d like to request something please head over to my other blog, https://ronaldandremuslover.tumblr.com/ and I’ll try and fix it for you !

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Once again, my phone had blown up by tumblr sending me countless of notifications that there has been an error. I hope by reposting this it will work. I also got a message from someone who said that they could not read below the keep Reading, which is obviously unfortunate. Gahh, I hope this will make it work. Thank you.

~ ~ ~ ~

'It's going to be alright. Everything is going to turn out splendid', Fred thought to himself. He shook his head in an attempt to get his hair out of his eyes. He stood on the same mountain you had shared your very first kiss and it was very windy all the way up at the top of the mountain. It didn't help that it was winter either. It was supposed to snow today.

I've got this. I know she's gonna be my wife.

A very soft pop came from behind him.

~ ~ ~ ~

The world had stopped spinning around you and you landed gracefully on the spot. Tall, crispy grass that reached up to your knees were swaying around you in the wind that made the waves of the ocean forceful. The smell of saltwater was evident and sand underneath your feet was sneaking into your sandals.

Only a couple of feet away you noticed the same red hair that you had so many times played with your hands. So many times you had smelled the wonderful smell of freshness. He was grinning, as per usual. But he did look rather nervous.

"Hello, Fred." Drawing nearer to him, you noticed he was wearing, what you remembered as, his most formal shirt.

"Hi, lovely."

You had already gotten a bad feeling from this. Your current boyfriend wasn't that happy with you seeing your ex. And Fred knew that the pet name 'lovely' was your favourite.

Rascal.

You pushed your hair behind your ear in an attempt to stop it getting in your face. The ocean beneath you was a deep blue and was glittering in the sunlight, making it appear as small crystals were floating around the surface.

It was very beautiful.

He was looking at you with those big, beautiful eyes that had once been the reason that you became attracted to him. But you were not allowed to think like that anymore. That wasn't fair to Jim, who had loved and cherished you for almost a year now. No, that wasn't fair.

"You said that you wanted to talk, Fred." The ocean was loud and the wind didn't help with making your voice distinct.

His smile got even bigger, it almost looked painful. "Yeah, I did say that."

The way that he reached into his pocket made your breath catch.

The way he got pulled out a small rectangular box made your hands shake.

The way he got down to one knee made your eyes shine with tears.

"Y/N, I know, believe me when I say that I know, that things have not been easy. But I also know that we, you and I, together, can make things a little bit easier,"

His eyes had also started to shine and had even gotten red,

"Because that's us. We always find a way to make things easier. Together. Together we make things better. We belong together, Y/N. And I know that you know that just as much as I do,"

He opened the small box in his hand. Inside was a ring with a small, white diamond. It was glittering in the sunlight and you could tell that Fred was shaking by the way that the ring was bouncing.

"So, therefore I ask you to become my wife. Will you marry me, Y/N?"

At this point, your cheeks were wet with tears and your vision blurry. Your hands were clapped over your mouth as if it would drench out the sobs that were escaping.

Was this it? Was this the moment where you got engaged? Do you even love Fred anymore? Didn't you make it clear that if he walked through that door in your apartment, that you two were over?

Your hands fell from your face, shaking. "Fred- I- This is- What?"

"I'm asking you to marry me. To live with me." His voice was strained from trying to keep back his tears.

This was not it. This was not the moment where you got engaged. You do not love Fred anymore. You had made it more than clear that of he stormed off, he could not come running back to you.

No, this wasn't fair to anyone.

"No." The word rolled off your tongue as it had been the easiest decision in your life.

He looked dumbfounded, lost, heartbroken. It was like you could hear everything crumbling inside of him.

But he just stood up straight and looked at you through his eyelashes that were clumped together by tears, "No?"

"No." You echoed. "My answer is no, Fred. This, (you waved your arms at him) Is ridiculous! What were you thinking?"

Your sudden outburst had taken him by such surprise that he stumbled backwards a few steps.

"I was thinking that we belong together. We always have!" The way he tried to keep his voice calm and collected made your temper rise. Everything was not calm and nothing had ever been more out of control.

What was happening?

"You know that I'm already in a relationship!" You cried, your hands curled up into fists.

Fred snorted and crossed his arms tightly around his chest, "You mean that sad excuse for a man? Big Jim?"

"At least he hasn't walked out on me! He hasn't left me in the middle of a room, crying to the point where my eyes stung!"

He went silent.

Your remark had affected him because now he was letting his tears flow down his pale, freckled cheeks.

At one point in your life, you had once laid in be with him and been trying to count all of them.

At one point.

At last, Fred said, "You know, I bet he's not so tough."

"Oh yeah?" You said, growling.

"Yeah, I hear he's this massive ol' chap with big muscles and everything, but I've also heard people talking about him, not very nice words. He seems to have a lot of ladies 'round town that wooes whenever he's around, eh?"

You scowled at him, "Jealous?"

Fred laughed, but not the usual sweet and charming laughter. This was the annoyed and fake one. "Y/N, you're a smart girl. You know you don't love him."

His voice had now moved on from the annoyed tone to a quiet and pleading one.

It broke your heart.

"Fred, please. This is not right. I need to go."

He made a go to grab your hand but you quickly recoiled. It wouldn't do you any good to make physical contact with him. It would only bring back memories. Memories of you caressing his cheek or him hugging you from behind...

Stop!

"Tell me you don't love me." He said, "Look into my eyes and say to me, 'Fred, I don't love you anymore."

You couldn't. You couldn't tell him that. It wasn't okay to lie.

Instead, you backed away and just as you were about to turn around to apparate, you gave him one last apologetic, watery smile.

~ ~ ~ ~

Fred knew that Jim worked in a very popular bar. That's why he had precisely chosen this bar to have a drink- or not.

He opened the doors and stepped inside. It was incredibly warm and people were seated close together. Mostly men were seated around the bar. And the women who walked around seemed to work at the place.

Fred glanced around the bar in hopes of seeing an incredibly tall man. He had never seen Jim in person before, but when a man got out from a door that led to somewhere behind the bar and even had to duck as he got out from the door, Fred knew that that was the man he was looking for.

He puffed out his chest and pulled back his shoulders and headed towards the overgrown man.

Once he had pushed enough people out of the way to get to the front of the bar he managed to get a good look at the man. He looked like a nice guy despite his height and uncommonly broad chest.

Dammit.

"What'd you fancy?"

Fred had been too busy inspecting him that he hadn't even noticed that he had asked him a question.

But instead of telling him what drink he'd fancy, he simply said, "I come for to find Big Jim, well, here I am and I guess you’re him."

Jim looked around, clearly confused. He looked back at Fred, his dark brown eyes looked almost like black. "Yeah, I'm him. Now would you like a drink or not?"

The red-headed man just grinned at him, mockingly. "I see how you got your name, you're tall as hell and broad as a train."

Jim, who had looked rather calm, had started to get an impatient look on his face. His nostrils flaring, "Yeah, right." He said as he had been told that many times before, "If you don't want a drink the get out. I don't have time for this shi-"

"Have you spoken to Y/N today?" Fred interrupted.

Jim's face turned blank for a split second but was quickly replaced with a doubtful expression. "D'you know her?"

He rolled his eyes, "No, only her name. Yes, I do know her."

"Do I know you?"

"No, you haven't slept with me."

The tall man standing behind the bar had let go of the glass he had been holding. He stared at Fred as though he had just said something unforgivable. "Who are you, you red-headed knob?"

Fred leaned onto the bar to get closer to him, "I'm Fred. Nice to meet you, Big Jim."

"Hold it, you're Fred? Y/N's..."

"Y/N's ex-boyfriend, yeah." He smirked at him as if daring him to lay a hand on him. "You know after all the talk I've heard, I expected you to be more... buff. You know... A little bit... good looking."

The barman was about to say something when Fred continued, "After all, they say you’re a hard-worn man." He narrowed his eyes at him, hoping to provoke something within him, "The baddest guy in the whole wide land."

But Jim merely blinked at him. "I don't have time for you shit. Piss off."

Jim was much taller than him. He towered over him to the point where Fred had to tilt his head to properly look at him. But he wasn't backing down. Not now.

The second Fred had stepped into this crowded bar, he knew what he was going to do. He still did. And he was determined to fulfil his duty. And so he jumped over the bar when Jim had turned around. The sound had clearly made Big Jim turn to face Fred. And when he did, Fred struck. He punched him square in the face.

"Well, I'm not afraid to fight, let's step outside and I'll show you why."

Fred goaded hastily before Jim would hit him back and jumped over the bar and ran for the door. He heard Jim run behind him, he could feel him breathing down his neck.

As soon as he had flung the door open with his entire body, a big hand had gripped the back of his jacket and pulled him backwards. He was spun around to face the man he had just punched. A black bruise was already forming around his eye.

Ha-ha.

For a hot second, Fred's vision blackened and his nose became incredibly hot. But after seconds of realizing what had happened, he had regained his balance and had only just stumbled backwards.

He was not going to fall.

"You know, you don't hit half bad," Jim said, his voice steady but his eyes flashing over every part of Fred's body as if he was looking for potential places to punch and kick, "Oh, but I'm gonna lay you to ground tonight."

Before Fred had blinked Jim was running towards him, his hand ready strike him in the gut.

He landed on his back, the snow melting and seeping in through the jacket and plaided shirt. He couldn't help but whimper as the afterpain hit him. Jim was just as strong as he looked, if not stronger.

The broad-chested man snorted and smirked down at him on the ground, "Pretty pathetic, aren't you?" He said before giving a last kick to his stomach again.

"Just wait until I catch my breath!" Fred gasped as Jim staggered over triumphantly to the door, "Gonna send you on to an early death..."

Bollocks.

He only noticed that his nose was bleeding when he spotted a red liquid in the pearly white snow. He defeatedly rolled over onto his back, relieving the pain in his stomach.

It felt as if his body was turning against him. But,' No, I’m not afraid to die, I’m just mad I left Big Jim alive' was all he could think. He had failed.

He stared into the endless sky and wondered when everything had turned to absolute dragon dung.

If he could turn back time to change his decision to leave you alone in the dark room, he would in an instant. But he can't. It was too late.

He closed his eyes and heaved a great sigh,

'I really don’t know where I’m goin' He thought to himself.

Nice one, Freddie.

'I know I should have never looked back, Shit, why can't I ever just do the right thing?' The thought occurred to him.

I was born to lose 'cause I’m a fool for love, that's just me, he thought.

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #harry potter #fred weasley imagine #harry potter imagine #hogwarts #harry potter fanfic rec #harry potter fanfiction #request #fool for love #:) <3

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