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mcgnagallsarmy · 2 years

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Spuffy style Reading Challenge - #1: Alphabet Soup Challenge

A Different Kind of Hell by OffYourBird, 89768 words [NC-17]

Jumping through Glory's tower portal, Buffy and Spike find themselves in a hell dimension they never expected. One that looks suspiciously like 1880's London. Will they find a way back home? Will the truth behind William the Bloody at last make itself known? Will Buffy ever stop butchering the Queen's English? Join them and find out. Starts off at the end of "The Gift."

The Blue Eye of the Storm by MaggieLaFey, 114557 words [NC-17]

Instead of the Scythe, what Buffy finds under the vineyard is a portal to another dimension. Spike has followed her there, and it’s the two of them that will cross the portal… and remain trapped on the other side for far longer than they’d expected. What will happen when the two of them—plus a local guide—are away from the stress of Chez Summers? Will they find some peace in the eye of the storm?

Circles by toooldforthis, 5884 words [PG-13]

They're so near and yet so far away.

A post-series reunion oneshot.

The Darkling by OffYourBird, 360920 words [NC-17]

When Buffy’s quest to get Spike returned to her is fulfilled in an unexpected way, she finds herself in a complicated relationship with an intrigued master vampire who isn’t the man she loves, but who might be someday… if she can convince him to step out of the dark.

Encapsulated by BillieLiar, 3044 words [NC-17]

“Hotel. I was supposed to have a hotel. This is so not a hotel.” “They’re called capsule hotels, luv, they’re getting common lately.”

For You To Be You by lafillesauvage, 9298 words [Adult Only]

Alternate ending for 7x13 The Killer in Me. What happened after Buffy and Spike returned to an empty Revello Drive following the chipectomy? Well, in this story, Buffy realises just how much she cares for Spike, which leads to some fluffy reconciliations involving chocolate ice cream and Walker, Texas Ranger. She also gets her period, and adult-only fun is had by all.

Gestalt by OffYourBird, 2571 words [R]

A love story in pieces and parts.

Hunger by Sunalso, 148397 words [NC-17]

AU. Spike killed his third Slayer, but Dru was already dust. He's been lost, but when his supper turns out to be more than he bargained for, it leaves him hungry for something else instead. And Buffy? She's just hungry.

Inside Man by Holly, 85524 words [NC-17]

Spike had this perfect memory of them together—her holding his hand, looking at him with tears in her eyes, telling him she loved him. If a man had to die, that was the way to do it. But in their world, the dead don’t stay dead. A completely canon-compliant retelling of AtS Season 5, beginning with Harm’s Way.

Just Breathe by Passion4Spike, 13444 words [NC-17]

After being ripped out of heaven by her friends, there’s only one person who can help Buffy cope with a life that feels like hell in a world that’s just too much to bear, a world that she wants desperately to escape: Spike.

Kaleidoscope by Lirazel, 6731 words [PG-13]

"Can you tell me, is this love that I'm seeing?" One by one, the people in Buffy and Spike's lives try to add up the obvious.

Let me go but hold me tight by Miss Marisol, 2860 words [R]

This time, heartbreak isn’t the right word, she thinks; it isn’t a breaking. Isn’t a something that comes about when your world gets turned on its head—it is simply a nothing. It’s a vacancy of everything good. She had once read that darkness doesn’t exist, that it is merely the absence of light, and she remembers that she hadn’t understood the meaning of this then - but now she does. Takes place during Anya's and Xander's wedding and goes AU from there. After Buffy breaks up with Spike, she realizes that she's made a terrible mistake...

Meet Me at Midnight by Dusty, 93012 words [NC-17]

A story about the stolen midnight hours of season seven.

Night Reflections by honeygirl51885, 16693 words [NC-17]

He watched her from the shadows. She was a thing of beauty, but he wanted more. Needed more, always. “I’m not what men want.” Her words were a whisper in the dark. “You think you’re not desirable?” He would show her, make her see what kind of woman she really was. Buffy and Spike embark on a night of passionate exploration, showing each other what’s reflected within.

Once in a Lifetime by bewildered, 14938 words [NC-17]

“If you really think you can love this guy--I’m talking scary, messy, no-emotions-barred need--if you’re ready for that, then think about what you’re about to lose.” Buffy thinks. And then she runs.

A reimagination of Season 5, where Buffy notices some things.

Poetry by William Pratt - VERSUS by SPIKE by MissLuci, 8385 words [R]

Present day - happily married and mated for years, Buffy and Spike move into a new place. As Buffy is putting things away, she finds a small journal. Opening it up, she’s surprised to discover it’s a collection of poetry, written by Spike, before and after he was turned. Buffy is intrigued and she begins to read, reflecting on their life as each poem unfolds. - A story in three parts.

Quiet by Sunalso, 1436 words [R]

Not every night needs to be exciting.

Right Next (Door) to You by talesofstories, 7264 words [PG]

Buffy and Spike are neighbors, best friends, confidants. What they aren't is dating. Which is the one thing that everyone assumes they are doing.

Someday by Sunalso, 54011 words [NC-17]

AU. The world is broken, but Buffy is given seven days to make it better. Does saving humanity mean letting go of the one thing she wants, or grabbing on to it with both hands?

Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow by Sunalso, 135683 words [Adult Only]

Buffy has fallen into darkness and been forced to become a ghost in her own past. Only she didn't come back alone. What will it take to overcome depression, obsession, and death so that she can learn to live, love, and laugh again.

Unspoken by anaross, 30494 words [R]

"I've always envisioned him giving Buffy a garden that he could never go to in the daytime, to give her something alive for a change." - James Marsters.

Valentine's Shuffle by sweetprincipale, 24342 words [NC-17]

Every day is full of decisions that will change where you end up. Spike and Buffy travel down a Valentine’s Day road (or roads) where different choices put them on different paths. Will one of the paths bring them together? (Note the timelines and events of season four have been altered here. Some things haven’t happened or haven’t happened yet.)

World Enough, and Time by toooldforthis, 23442 words [R]

“You came back wrong,” he told her, all those years ago. He was right, but it took them a very long time to realise exactly what that meant. It meant a hundred more apocalypses, a thousand battles. It meant a journey, a prophecy, a war. They’d lose one other, and find their way back, and choose, again and again. And all the while, the earth was failing.

There are a lot more people than you think who are here for the long haul – like, the really long haul. This is a story about two of them.

Xander Harris and the Eye of Ra by SlayrGrl [PG-13]

Going on a solo mission in the desert wasn't quite the therapeutic escape Xander had hoped for to help him move on with his life post Sunnydale. But, when Xander finds himself a new travel companion, he discovers that having an obnoxious vampire-ghost to keep him company might actually be worse than being alone in the desert.

You Think You Know What's to Come by deedo, 5207 words [NC-17]

Buffy handled things a bit differently after she gave Spike the amulet. Some lines are taken from the episode 'Chosen'

Zeno's Paradox by resignedlybeneaththesky [PG-13]

You deserve this, Buffy thought to herself. You deserve to feel every second of this guilt because it’s your fault. Spike was suffering, truly suffering, as he grappled with his newly-won soul, and it was killing her a piece at a time to watch. And god help her, she loved him.

#Buffy The Vampire Slayer #btvs #spuffy #ficrec #reading challenges #thesunsetsandsheappears #lafillesauvage #sunalsolove #dustyfics #williamthebloodied

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nincompoopydoo · 3 years

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Can I request a Fred Weasley oneshot with the promts "you don't love him", and "love is supposed to be good". Thanks 😊

GOOD, PURE, AND BEAUTIFUL

PAIRING: Fred Weasley x reader WORD COUNT: 1.9k (about 1000 words my ass) SUMMARY: The Leaky Cauldron serves as a sanctuary to drink your problems away for the night but a certain ginger always seems to find his way to you. Possible part 2? A/N: Sorry this took so long, I had to rewrite the hold dang thing and I know I said I would write around 1000 words but looks like i can’t help but be long-winded. WARNINGS: Angst. Mentions of getting drunk. support my writing through ko-fi💖 MASTERLIST

You find solace in the pint of butterbeer, sitting at a table for two, tucked by the corner and under the archways of the Leaky Cauldron. The passing wizards in sleek venerable trench coats and witches with an odd taste in hats only act as an activity of sightseeing in keeping yourself awake, hypothesizing strangers’ lives and whether they might have gnomes lurking in their gardens or have gardens in the first place.

You are drawn to the drifting scent of butterscotch—the tankard of butterbeer sits glumly in your grasp as it has lost all its foam. You take a sip, more of a gulp, feeling the gas building up in your abdomen, and the sweetness to it almost feels sickening at this point.

Belly full yet feeling extremely empty.

The days leading up to you, being here at the Leaky Cauldron, and playing the part of the drunken witch very well weren't exactly pleasant. Flourish and Blotts seem to lose its shine in fulfilling your love for books and organization with every passing day and your relationship with the boy you met and fell madly in love with during your sixth year don’t seem to hold the same spark as before. Walter was a Ravenclaw—handsome, diligent, and incredibly smart. You and him dating had been an on-and-off situation because the one thing you two share in common is the lack of decisiveness.

Today, tonight, you and Walter are finally resolute. The true end where second, third, or fourth chances will never cease to exist from now on. With the new offer for a job in America, you and he both know drifting apart seems to be the only reasonable solution to the whole mess of what you assumed was love.

He spoke the words in this very spot, sat in the chair across from you. You had been watching the way his thumb would caress the back of his other hand and you knew, the night was bound to end in a disastrous way. An unfortunate turn of events for the witch who doesn’t truly know if she ever loved another or was ever loved.

Yet, you sit here, eyes completely dry. Far from crestfallen, far from regret. Only filled with the dread of not feeling the sadness you’re supposed to be feeling. You ignore how your shoulders feel lighter and how the tightness in your chest seems to have miraculously disappeared as soon as you watched Walter walk out of the Leaky Cauldron.

Are the butterbeers celebratory or depressing? You’re not sure.

You rest your chin on your palm, feeling like you’re in a daze. Butterbeer isn’t necessarily the type of drink to get you intoxicated but noting the rate you’re consuming each mug, it’s no surprise that you’re just a little tipsy.

Then, you see a certain ginger twin emerge from the entrance of the pub like some divine intervention. He seems to spot you from afar, waving in your direction. You lift your hand weakly in the midst of trying to figure out which of the twins you are particularly waving at. It’s Fred Weasley as it turns out, you recognize the certain strides with every step taken towards you that differs him from George. As he nears you, there’s an assurance that it’s certainly Fred with the sight of a mark on the bridge of his nose—an indicator and a technique to tell the twins apart you used when you were younger.

Fred halts by the empty seat diagonally to your left, hands shoved in the pockets.

“I have never seen you here at this hour—are you okay?” Fred cuts himself short, brows turning into a frown when he notices the unusual mess in your hair. If he knows you any better, well-kept and neat hair was all you cared about after the number of times you have furiously whined about the frizz in your hair during the summertime.

It isn’t summer now, well into the end of November. The days are colder and he remembers how your hair would especially shine in the gloom of Autumn.

“Not really.” is all you manage to say before taking the hundredth swig from your nearly empty butterbeer. You inspect the mug with furrowed brows and narrowed eyes. “I swear this was full the last time I looked...”

Before you know it, he’s snatching the mug away from you, dragging it across the table as he settles into the empty chair. He stares at you with a beckoning brow, expression mixed with disappointment, disapproval, and worry.

“Hey! That’s my butterbeer, Weasley!” you whine, trying to reach for it but Fred pushes it further, hand securing around it. Without hesitation, you smack him in the arm. “Stop being a complete arse, Fred. What are you even doing here and where’s George anyway?”

Fred winces in pretense pain, dramatically rubbing the side of his arm as he tries to suppress his laughter from your sudden burst of violence. “George is back at the shop going over numbers and as far as I’m concerned, I can be anywhere I want to be. You clearly had too much to drink.”

“But it's butterbeer!”

“That is exactly my point.”

You let out a huff, leaning into your seat and running your fingers through your hair. After a moment’s silence with Fred still staring you down in the effort of getting you to talk, you finally give in. He knows you too well for you to hide anything from him.

“Walter and I broke it off.”

Fred blinks, trying to hide his wide-eyed gaze. “For good?”

You finally turn to him, nodding slowly. “For good.”

“I’m sorry.” His voice is soft when in reality he’s trying to hide his relief in hearing that things between you and Walter have finally come to a resolution because falling in and out of a relationship was driving you mad. He cares for you and always has since the very beginning and a part of him wishes for those feelings of infatuation between two melancholic teenagers will emerge back from what he assumed was already dead.

He watches you lean your head back onto your palm, seemingly sinking deeper towards the table as you try to wrap your head around the situation to form proper words with your lips. “You know what’s the worst part of it all?” Fred shakes his head, eyes never breaking contact with your own. “I don’t even feel that sad about it. Like all those years were...nothing.” Your laugh comes out as a puff of air. It’s cynical rather than finding the humor in it. For the first time, he doesn’t laugh when you do.

Another beat of silence and Fred is contemplating whether his next words that beg to be freed from his mind are appropriate in a time like this. Although he knows how he tends to speak his mind without thinking of the consequences, he knows to tread lightly around you from the times when his words nearly tore your friendship apart.

Still, he knows to be honest with you.

Through the chatter of the crowd at the Leaky Cauldron whilst a few men by the other corner of the pub begin to break into singing a drinking song, Fred’s voice comes off as a whisper, barely audible. “You don’t love him, don’t you?”

Your gaze had initially drifted to the bunch of rowdy men, rendering verses about magical whisky and beer. Yet, they now return to hold a certain ginger’s gaze. You want to be offended by his question because of how it supposedly hurts the raw wound of feeling sorry for yourself. Your love life hasn’t been the best and your tendency to jump to your own defense about it is a clear note to everyone that it simply shouldn’t be questioned.

But it’s Fred. The one who has constantly looked out for you when other boys and men seem to take advantage of your hopeless romantic side. The one who would pull a prank on George just to see you smile. The one who ended up taking you to the Yule Ball as his date because Walter, at the time, rejected you like you were nothing. You should have known that it was never meant to be.

You know to be honest with Fred Weasley.

“I don’t think I ever did.”

He doesn’t say anything, wanting to listen as he waits for you to conceive the proper words to finally speak your mind. It is clear you want to let it out and let off of the burden that has trapped you under its knees, constantly looming over your shoulders and causing dread and fear of losing so much in such a short time. The band of merry men as the whole pub begins to join the group in singing about the joys of alcohol, life, and love in the tune of a traditional Scottish muggle song.

You wonder how can these people be so happy in a time of an impending war. Maybe, it's temporary, meant to drown the hurt and sorrows for tonight and when morning comes, they'll return to opening the stitches of their wounds. When morning comes, you will either wake up at this very table or in an empty bed. Either way, you’ll be alone.

Now, all you want to do is get all your worries and troubles off your chest, not wanting to feel so empty and suffocated. “Love,” you pause, inhaling deeply. ”Love is supposed to be good and pure and beautiful. Love was what I thought I had and right now, I don’t know what to make of it, Fred...I thought I was going to marry him someday.” You find yourself sighing once more, already feeling the lightness in your chest. Running your fingers along your cheek, you close your eyes to help yourself focus through your rapid thoughts and your dazed mind. “Everything is going wrong. I hate my job. I hate my bed. I’m drunk on butterbeer for Merlin’s sake. I feel so, so alone—”

“Ah, and that’s where you are wrong.”

Your eyes are open now, narrowed from adjusting to the sudden brightness of the candlelit place. They drift to Fred who seems very content. He then places his hand on yours and you realize you had been fiddling with your fingers for the last minute. His hand is warm on yours and the heat gradually travels to your chest, heartbeat now slightly picking up in speed. If you listen close enough, you would be able to hear it.

“You are never alone. Not when I’m around and you know I will always be around.”

His words tug at the side of your lips, now widening into a faint smile. It’s small but it’s the kind that reaches your eyes and raises your cheeks. “Thank you, Freddie.”

Then, you watch him abruptly come to a stand, chair screeching. He tugs on the lapels of his coat, adjusting it with the roll of his shoulders. He grabs the back of his chair, and leans forward, towards you. “George and I are visiting the Burrow for the weekend. I’m sure mum won’t mind you staying over.”

You blink, mouth slightly agape at his offer. “I don’t want to trouble anybody—”

“Don’t be silly. Mum loves you more than George and I combined. And she loves us a lot!”

You laugh and it’s genuine this time, knowing how Molly will be always whispering to you about what makes Fred a good husband in the kitchen when you’re washing up the plates and how she will never let you go to bed hungry.

The burrow is like your second home and right now, home is all you want and need.

“Alright, then.”

#happy 1000!#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x you #george weasley x reader #george wealsey imagine #george weasley #harry potter #harry potter imagine

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thesoulspulse · 3 years

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When Blue Eyes Meet (Good Vlad AU ~ Oneshot)

Summary: I couldn't sleep and got this beautifully heartfelt idea in my head about how my Good Vlad met his cat Madison for the first time and how she helped turn his life around. It's about she adopted him, sensing how bad Vlad needed a friend after Jack and Maddie moved on with their lives until they finally meet again at their college reunion. Warning, this mentions character death.

Vlad's POV

I'll never forget that day, the day I met a very special little lady.

I had only been fully discharged from the hospital for a few weeks but...after I insisted on making sure Jack and Maddie could move on with their own lives without me since I wouldn't drag them down, but once returned home I was suddenly reminded of how alone in the world I really was now. Both my parents had passed away before I started my freshman year of college but they left me with everything I would need to secure a bright future, even the house which gave me a place to return to in the first place since we had no idea the accident would result in me being bedridden for several years.

But as soon as I stepped inside the house, just like my heart it felt so...hollow.

The warmth I used to feel there was long gone, and it had nothing to do with still needing to pay the heating bill. And I suppose it's fortunate that the money I had set aside to pay for my school supplies and my half of the rent was enough to pay for my hospital bills so I had just enough left over to invest in gaining a new lease on life after the accident. It would take time, but I was confident I would be able to go back and continue my studies eventually, but for now I need to focus on figuring out how to cope with the other huge transformation I had undergone.

I almost had to laugh at the irony because perhaps I'm only living a half-life since the accident turned me half-ghost. It was difficult at first, hiding the truth about my condition not only from Jack and Maddie, but the nurses and doctors as well. Thankfully, I inherited my father's sharp wits and managed to conceal my powers fairly well. As for the rest, it was just easier to let people assume they were only seeing things whenever they saw a strange light or my hand seemed to pass through solid objects. After all, who would ever believe that a human with ghost powers could possibly exist...?

Still, I suppose one good thing about returning to that house is that it was nice to finally be able to relax somewhat knowing I wouldn't need to hide my powers from anyone, or at least not nearly as often when I was still a patient. I would still have to be careful if someone came to visit me, but honestly the odds of that happening ere highly unlikely. I say this because I have no living relatives left. No parents, no cousins or siblings, just me.

Sighing I set down my bags and started unpacking boxes. I needed something else to occupy my thoughts because I still hadn't quite gotten over the fact that I lost my scholarship. Realistically I knew that couldn't be helped given what happened to me so instead I turned my attention to the things I still could control, such as ensuring I still had a place to live since I was no longer a student and Jack wasn't my roommate anymore.

Speaking of which, right from the start I wanted make sure to avoid living somewhere with too many people around so although my original plan was to move back here after graduation I made the decision to return to this town ahead of schedule in light of my extenuating circumstances.

There were still faint traces of my old life here back from when my parents were still alive such as my father's desk and my mother's cooking supplies. And quite honestly, being back here and suddenly feeling their absence all over again...it made me sad. I missed them, just as much I miss Jack and Maddie but I had to start moving on too. So I shook my head, turned our old record player, and kept myself busy by unpacking my belongings.

Luckily I had everything I owned in the dorm moved here after it became painfully clear I wouldn't be able to attend classes anymore due to my critical condition. Jack and Maddie offered to do it for me personally but I declined their kind off because for one thing I didn't want them to find out where I live before I had enough time to gain full control of my powers, and for another I wanted to make a clean break for their sake...

I was dangerous to be around whether I liked it or not so exposing them to danger while my powers were still a bit difficult to control was not a risk I was willing to take. Especially since those two are all I had left and someday...I really hoped I'd be able to meet them again and tell them the truth about my powers. But until then, all I could do was try my best to start over and hope for the best.

Once I settled in, I began testing out my powers more, taking notes, pushing my limits, and yet the more I learned about myself the more I wished I had someone to share my discoveries with. Jack could be overzealous at times, but I missed how excited we both felt after making a new discovery about ghosts or ectoplasmic energy. And Maddie, she always knew how to reign us in so we could look at things more objectively even though she was usually just as eager to find out more too.

Having no one left to talk to or come home to had finally started to get to me and sadly as a result that's when the nightmares started up again too. Just like back in the hospital I would wake up in a cold sweat, clutching the sheets in both fists as the ghostly blue glow of my eyes cast flickering shadows on the walls. I had gotten careless because I thought I would be alright as long as I didn't have to worry about a doctor or a nurse walking in at any second and seeing my eyes glowing in the darkness.

That's when I realized I had to do something about this before things escalated even further and my emotions spiraled out of control again without some sort of outlet. I needed to make a connection, a way to overcome this shadow looming over me, so I considered seeing a therapist to prevent these nightmares from overtaking me. But I was afraid that if I did talk to someone...what if I became too emotional and exposed my powers to them? That could be a huge problem. I could always overshadow them, but I'd still be avoiding dealing with this terrible helplessness I felt.

That day, I was wandering around town in a daze, conflicted about how to deal with the problem when I happened to enter a local animal shelter. The people at the front desk were friendly, but I had never considered how my...ghostly attributes might make most animals wary of me since they have a sixth sense for the supernatural which quite honestly made me feel even more detached from the person I once was. As a boy I got along well with most animals but I never felt particularly attached to them. Dogs were a bit too energetic for my tastes and I had to deal with that enough with Jack but cats on the other hand, well I have always appreciated their independent spirit but I never considered them to be very affectionate animals...

That all changed the instant I saw her.

On my way out the door after satisfying my idle curiosity about how animals seem to perceive me now that I'm only half human I noticed this sleek black kitten staring directly at me with the most stunning blue eyes I've ever seen and when our eyes met, what I felt...I can't even describe it. It felt as though she was looking right at me, into my heart, and for the first time since the accident, it was like someone had noticed how lost I was and there was this unmistakable look of gentle sympathy in her eyes.

Mesmerized by her gaze, I turned around and asked the person at the desk more about her and they told me she had been abandoned which I could relate to to some degree. To be fair I hadn't been abandoned necessarily, but I felt that way sometimes since it was gradually becoming harder and harder to wake up alone in that empty house every morning, not sure what I should be doing with the rest of my life now that I'm all alone and don't have friends to confide in anymore I can visit whenever I want.

Impulsively I asked if I could hold her and they agreed, smiling at me secretively as if they already knew I felt an instant attachment to her and as soon as they handed her to me...she clung to me like her life depended on it and then crawled up onto my shoulders, wrapping her tiny body around my neck as much as possible and as soon as she was comfortable she started purring. It was like a hug of sorts and I had no idea how starved for the gentle contact from another living creature of any kind from someone that wasn't just another doctor poking and prodding me that all I remember is falling to my knees soon after, sobbing and resting my cheek against her head as she rubbed against me, licking away my tears.

Finally, I thought, this is what I've been searching for ever since I came home. I've missed having someone there who cares about me, someone to remind me that I'm not alone, someone who can stay by my side so I don't have to suffer in silence anymore without a friend there to comfort me just when I start to think I can't bear it anymore.

I'm sure everyone who saw me that day were just as stunned as I was by my meltdown, but I didn't care. I needed her. And she needed me, no, for reasons I cannot even begin to fathom she WANTED to be with me and no one else. It's like she had been waiting for me to walk in that door from the very start. Waiting for me to give her a home, a family, and most importantly...a name. And that name would become a bond that could never be broken, not even after her tragic death some years later when she returned to my side once more as a ghost because she knew I still desperately needed a friend-

And that's how Madison became my closest and dearest companion.

We’ve been inseparable ever since.

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awilddoddle · 2 years

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Here's my favorite anderperry oneshot that I have written. All of my work is on Wattpad and a03 but I thought I would post some here as well.

Why do I have to do everything

Neil had been pacing and debating going into Charlie's room for about 20 minutes. Finally on his millionth time passing the door Neil chose carpe deim. He turned the handle and busted into the room.

"I need your opinion" Neil confessed

"Have you ever heard of knocking, it's a cool concept, you should try it" Charlie said on his bed with a book that he was reading until his best friend busted into the room.

"Oh yeah, sorry. I need your opinion."

"Ok go for it."

"What would you say if I said that I'm into guys and I think I'm in love with Todd?" Neil said quickly as not to back out like he debated many times before.

"I would say one, welcome to the club and two you are just figuring this out, your not as slick as you might think Perry." Charlie smirked.

"Wait 'welcome to the club' what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I'm bi dufus, I could've sworn I talked to you, whatever not the time. Are you going to talk to him?"

"Talk to who"

"Talk to Todd, tell him that you're in love with him. Come on Perry pay attention it's like we are having two completely different conversations here." Charlie snapped.

"Oh right, um I don't know. Maybe someday just not right now. This is all completely new. I didn't know I liked guys until like a week ago. I just don't want to do something unless I'm 100% sure. Todd is one of, if not my best friend"

"Hey" Charlie said only half joking.

"Sorry- it's just I don't want lose him"

"It's ok, I know you. You'll make a good decision." Charlie says going in for a hug "But if I were I would make it sooner than later before he finds out himself. Again you don't hide things very well."

~~~

Only a few days later there was another person at Charlie's door.

"Come in" The door creakes open to reveal a stressed Todd Anderson walking into the room. "Oh Todd it's you I didn't expect that"

"To be honest neither did I, I just need to talk to you." Todd said slowly making his way over to Charlie.

"Sure, what is it?"

"You know Neil right?"

"Neil, Neil, Neil, nope doesn't ring a bell" Charlie joked.

"I know that you know him but do you know him?"

"Yeah I think so"

"So how do you think he would react if I told him that I may like him as maybe more than a friend?" Todd mumbled.

"Oh god do I have to do everything around here?" Charlie sighed grabbing Todd by the arm and dragging him into Neil and Todd's dorm where Neil sat writing on his bed.

"Sit" Charlie ordered Todd pointing to the floor. "Sit" Charlie ordered again but this time to Neil and now pointing to a spot facing across from Todd. The two boys obeyed Charlie and sat at their designated spots.

"Ok so it has come to my attention recently that you guys need to talk, so you will not leave this room until you do, I'm going to be right outside, just for the love of god talk!" Charlie demanded walking out and sitting on the other side of the door.

"What was that about?" Todd asked still trying to process how he got into this situation.

"I have no idea, what were you guys talking about that may have brought us here" Neil questioned pointing to the space between them which was very slowly getting smaller.

"That couldn't have been it," Todd lied, that was 100% what this is about. But why would his friend play such a cruel joke to him. There is no way Neil Perry could like him back, right? "Had you guys talked recently"

"Yeah a few days ago, but I don't think this is what it's about" Neil lied, that is 100% what this is about. But why would his friend play such a cruel joke on him. There is no way Todd Anderson could like him back, right?

"What did you guys talk about" Todd whispered since they are close enough that they hear eachothers breathing.

"What did you guys talk about?" Neil whispered back semi knowing what's going to happen next yet it still surprised him. Both of them leaned into eachother locking lips. Nobody knew who initiated the kiss but they were thankful to whoever did. They both took a breath before going in for seconds.

"I don't hear you guys talking" Charlie barged in. The two lovebirds stopped quickly and turned towards their friend embarrassment in their eyes. "Oh sorry continue boys" Charlie smirked satisfied with his work.

~~~

Hello hope you liked this oneshot. I made Charlie a little extra snarky because I was feeling. Most of this was made at like 1 am so sorry if it's bad.

#anderperry #neil and todd #dead poets #dead poets society #todd and neil #todd anderson #neil perry

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casuallydyinginthecorner · 3 years

Text

Nothing's Going To Hurt You- a Kiribaku Oneshot

I already posted this, but it was kinda hard to find, so... here it is again! Check the tags for tws!

Rating: PG-13

The dream started out familiar enough. The class was in the middle of training, and Bakugo had just blown through a row of cement blocks. He shouted triumphantly. His record was beaten for the second time today. Then All Might came into the room. No, he decided. He could do better. He tried again, but instead of exploding like the previous shot, the blocks caught the explosions and transformed into hands.

At first, the hands came towards him in a motherly caress. Then they turned gnarled, grabbing him and forcing him into a chair.

“You want to be a hero?” Shigaraki said in his mother’s voice. “Let’s see what you can do.” His grip turned to iron as the scene changed once again.

Now Bakugo was at the sports festival, his body chained to the pole, thunderous applause deafening his ears. The crowd around him faded and solidified into a person- first Half-and-Half, then Deku, then All Might. They extended a hand, the temperature rising around them.

“Let’s see what you can do.”

The heat grew from intense to suffocating, until soon enough it became so hot that the world around him contracted into a ball. No, the ball. He was trapped again, but this time Bakugo was too big to fit. Too big, yet so, so small. No matter how hard he punched and kicked and hit the walls, they only got harder, thicker, absorbing all the air. Bakugo’s face watered. If he didn’t find a way to get out now, he would die.

The walls expanded, turning into a stern hand that slapped his cheek.

“You think talking will get you what you want?” his mother scolded. “No. If you speak so quietly, cry so often, you will never get what you want. Stand up, Katsuki. Your crying is pathetic.”

But Bakugo couldn’t stop the tears from falling. It wasn’t his fault that he got kidnaped. It wasn’t his fault that he lost to Half-and-Half. It wasn’t his fault that he’d lost the chance to be more to his enemy, a quirkless, slower, pathetic person, who was somehow more brave, more courageous, more persistent, and somehow stupid enough to reach his hand out when Bakugo could get out of this mess himself, because he was supposed to be better. Than. This.

Bakugo shoved the hand aside and started running. But he couldn’t escape it. The hand melted into a new, expanding darkness, taking a new form in vague but recognizable blobs- his classmates. As he ran forward, they moved farther away. Bakugo jumped into the air and used explosions to propel himself, but to no avail. They surpassed him, and he was left behind. No. Not like this.

He extended his arm out and grabbed one. When it turned around, its face was made of tape. Bakugo jerked his hand back. The fire in his second hand sputtered out, landing on another blob, this one pink. Another seized him from behind, this one sparking waves of electricity. When he got pushed down, down, down into the darkness, the blob was bright red.

No. He couldn’t take this anymore. His limbs were numb, hair matted to his face with sweat and tears. But he had to endure it. He had to get through this. He couldn’t lose; not to All Might, not to Deku, and certainly not to some dream.

The darkness became more pressured as he fell. Bits of the blobs fell with him, turning into staticy bits of memories. The pressure increased as he took them in-a glimpse of his kindergarten teacher whispering a warning to “be careful around Bakugo, his behavior lately is erratic,” one of his mother and father shutting the door to his room until he could “get over himself” after a tantrum, one of All Might, pulling him away from Deku, not saying anything, but his expression saying enough.

As Bakugo fell down, the pressure in his ears turned to humming whispers, all saying one thing: you’re worthless.

Then, as a final parting gift, the dream changed one last time. He saw the bits of static form into one large person, floating towards the almost microscopic Bakugo-different now, older, but it had the same evil, chilling smile. It wasn’t until his body started crumbling into dust that he recognized it as Shigaraki’s.

“You’d make a fine villain someday.”

Even though Bakugo knew it was a dream, he could still feel the tingling of Decay working its way up his body. His lungs were constricting, filling with sand. He couldn’t breathe, no matter how hard he tried. Around him, the darkness became crushing, creating a void in his mind, threatening to suck up everything until he became nothing, just an insignificant speck. But wasn’t that all he was? Katsuki Bakugo would never be a hero, never rise to the top and become number one (1). Why should he even try? If all he would amount to would be worth too little, why should anyone believe in him? It was his fault he was kidnapped. If only he had trained faster, stronger, pushed himself harder and harder until he couldn’t anymore, maybe he would have-

“Bakugo?”

Suddenly the pressure eased, but the Decay didn’t stop. His lungs began to dissolve, droplets of blood filling the air. This was it. This was how he went out. A stupid, stupid dream.

“Bakugo, listen to me.” Somehow, this voice seemed different than the ones in the dream. Stable. More sure.

Something came out of the darkness. A hand, unfurling in his direction. After what he’d seen, Bakugo should have scrambled back and fired explosions at it. But this hand seemed different. It wasn’t suffocating or pressuring. If anything, it was inviting. Reassuring. Reaching out, not to harm, but save him.

He felt something on his arm. A faint, warm pressure, keeping him from fully drifting away. The hand moved closer.

“Focus on my hand. It’s warm, right?” Closer.

“It’s warm, just like the room. You’re in the common room, on the couch that faces the TV. The heater is going off, and it’s making a rumbling noise.” Closer.

The voice continued. “You’re lying on the couch, and one of your hands is on the floor. Can you feel it?” Closer. Slowly, the darkness faded to a lighter gray.

“It’s 1:24 a.m. No one else is here. It’s just you and me.” The hand was so close that Bakugo could almost see its jagged lines. If he jumped up now, he would reach it.

“You’re fine. You’re safe. You can open your eyes and nothing’s going to hurt you.” The hand became attached to a torso, which became attached to a face. Unlike the others, he could see this one clearly.

“Nothing’s going to hurt you.”

As Bakugo jumped from the ground, the face called out. Come on!

“Nothing’s going to hurt you.” The darkness turned to white as Bakugo took the hand. His eyes opened. The common room came into focus, and with that, someone else.

“Sh*tty Hair?”

“Yep.” He moved closer. “How do you feel?”

“Why do you care?” Bakugo sat up. Someone had set a glass of water on the coffee table in front of him.

“Drink this.” Sh*tty Hair handed him the glass. Bakugo downed it gratefully. With a start, he realized that Sh*tty Hair’s hand was still intertwined in his.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” Bakugo asked, tearing his hand away. He decided to ignore the look of hurt on Sh*tty Hair’s face.

“I was getting water and saw you fell asleep. I was gonna leave you be, but you were breathing so quickly…” Sh*tty Hair trailed off. “A panic attack,” he finally said. “I get those sometimes, too. What I just did? It’s called grounding. It helps.” His gaze went to the glass. “Oh, are you finished? I’ll get you some more water. And then,” he said, “we can talk about what happened? If you want?”

Bakugo said nothing. Why had he stepped in? His dream, or panic attack, or whatever it was, wasn’t any of his business.

Sh*tty Hair shrugged. “I don't know. It helps me to talk about it, sometimes.” He went over to the kitchen area, first grabbing another glass, then filling both with water from the sink. It wasn’t until he came back that Bakugo asked his question.

“Why did you help me?” he grumbled.

“What?”

“Why did you help me?” You’d think he told Sh*tty Hair he wanted to play chess, he was so shocked.

“Why wouldn’t I?” He chuckled. “You needed help-and there’s nothing wrong with that- and I know how it feels when you’re alone and panicking, so…”

What had he said? Nothing’s going to hurt you. Tch. Like he would know. But still, if what he’d said was true…

“I need to be alone.” Luckily, Sh*tty Hair seemed to understand.

“I’ll be in my room if you need me. Door’s unlocked.” With that, he set off towards the staircase.

Bakugo hesitated. Nothing’s going to hurt you.

“Sh*tty Hair?”

He turned around. “Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

A small smile spread across his face. “Anytime.”

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blushie14 · 3 years

Text

Announcement/Skephalo AU idea

Hey all you lovely people! Hope you guys are all doing well. Just wanna say I’m still on break and I’ll probably stay on break for a little while longer.

Buuuut I couldn’t help but write something I had in mind a little bit. It’s not exactly a fanfiction. Partially a drabble? It’s mostly just an idea.

If you’re interested in hearing my ideas for a hero/villain AU, feel free to keep reading.

So I've always had this AU in the back of my mind, and the more I think about it, the more I fall in love with the concept.

I don't know how long I had this idea, but either way I honestly have no clue how to turn it into a oneshot which makes me :(

So to make this easier for me, I'm just listing out my thought process. Seriously, I'm thinking up these things at the top of my head.

Skeppy is this well known hero that protects the city from various villains. His costume represents his minecraft skin a little.

Skeppy's powers relate to his minecraft skin being a diamond. He can summon crystals in any shape or form. It can be anything he wants it to be and can control wherever they can go (like telekinesis). His identity is hidden from the public.

One of his greatest enemies ever? Badboyhalo, who also has a costume similar to his minecraft skin.

He unfortunately doesn't have superpowers, but he's smart enough to build interesting/dangerous machines and weapons. Bad is also very good at combat.

"Now hold on a flipping second!" I can hear you say. "How in the world is this precious angel from above the villain in this?!"

Umm well you see, the thing is he's kind of.. not.. great at it. I mean he isn’t the worst at being a villain. It’s just that he’s almost harmless! He's the kind of villain who not a lot of people take seriously when he's first introduced.

His plans either end up being poorly executed or barely dangerous. Bad's persona is a little chaotic and basically "Mwahaha look how evil I am! I am the greatest villain of all time! >:D" ... Adorable, right? <3

When the two first face each other, Skeppy... does not take this guy seriously at all. Cuz first of all, what kind of dumb villain name is badboyhalo?! Skeppy finds this too funny to be true.

Bad of course gets immediately annoyed and all pouty about this (because how dare he makes fun of him). He tries to continue with whatever plan he was going to execute but..

Skeppy couldn't help but mess with him even more. Whatever his plan was, Skeppy didn't think it was a good one. It was waaaaay too easy to mess with him.

Because of that, Bad's plan to.. (idk, take over the city or somethin?) foiled and Skeppy didn't even have to do that much. He didn't even bother having the authorities involved.

When it comes to all of the other villains, he needed to get the job done right away. That means it’s something he can’t joke about. But Skeppy surprisingly found it really fun to stop this new villain. A small part of him hopes he gets to see him again.

Bad however was absolutely (salty bahaha) furious with Skeppy. He was already loathing this annoying and troublesome hero. He was also frustrated that he didn’t exactly make an impactful first impression. (I mean, he DID but not in the way he wanted to)

Eventually of course, they face each other again. The moment Bad sees Skeppy once again, he immediately tries to act as menacing and confident as possible. He… starts monologuing like a typical cartoon villain.

Like last time, Skeppy isn't taking this guy seriously. He interrupts his monologuing with dumb questions he could think of off the top of his head, floating right up to his face. (He's on a floating crystal platform)

"Soooo do you do anything in your spare time aside from acting all villainy?"

Bad is caught off guard by this. He was trying to have this epic moment and all and this guy just-... what? He could barely get words out to even answer him as Skeppy asked more questions. Skeppy finds him intriguing, so he might as well!

"Do you prefer soup or lasagna?"

"Why does your costume look like a clown?

"If you could turn into any food you wanted, what would you turn into?"

Bad then suddenly responds. "Hey! My costume does not look clown like!"

"I don't know dude, you seem kind of funny to me!"

"Oh you're one to talk! How am I supposed to take you seriously when your costume is so derpy!"

"Aww, thanks! I take that as a compliment!"

"Oh my goodness you muffin head. Just get out of my way!"

"Muffin head?" Skeppy bursts out laughing. This "big bad villain" really just used muffin as an insult. That's freaking hilarious.

"So I'm guessing you would want to be a muffin for that last question, hm?"

"No! No I-" Bad is stuttering, embarrassed that he was being mocked. "Maybe I do, but that's not the point right now! Stop laughing at me!"

Little did Bad know that Skeppy was undoing his hard work to carry out his plan while he was busy screaming at him.

When Bad realized this, it was already too late. His plan was ruined by Skeppy again. And of course, Bad was not happy.

As the weeks go by, scenarios similar to this would repeat over and over again. Skeppy would always trick him successfully, laughing every time their little "battle" would end.

Until this happened.

"You dirty cheater! That's the last time I fall for your tricks! Next time is going to be different!" Bad has had it with him.

Skeppy couldn't help but tease him to just rub salt in the wound. "You realize you've said that for like the 14th time, right?"

He giggled as he continued "I find it cute that you think you can win someday. Cute and hilarious badboyhalo."

Bad growled and stayed silent. He didn’t like it when Skeppy openly mocks him. He also hates when he jokingly calls him cute. How could he say that?! He's hardcore!

Besides, whenever he hears Skeppy call him cute, it makes him feel… weird.

As Skeppy leaves, happy with another day of fun destroying Bad's evil plans, Bad makes a serious decision.

His main goal has changed. He vows to destroy or at least trap Skeppy no matter what. Skeppy doesn't know it yet, but this was the rise of his archenemy.

I’m going to remind you all again... he’s almost harmless.

#skephalo #badboyhalo #skeppy #blushie chats #drabble #my writing #hero/villain au #to be deleted??

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ashenburst · 4 years

Text

Let It Happen

Fugo x Reader, fluff, 3861 words. Y’all aren’t in a relationship, but you might get into one after the events of this oneshot <3

Purple Haze has a special role here!

A new mission landed in Buccellati's hands. A retaliation ought to be carried out. That alone was a peculiar request, for Buccellati's team wasn't meant for these tasks – but since a higher-up commanded so, no reluctance would be shown. You and Fugo were chosen to do the dirty deed.

This selection was odd too, in your opinion at least. Despite being in the group for a month or so, you picked up on many patterns in their dynamics. When it came to missions, for example, Fugo participated by far the least. Buccellati avoided sending him for some reason. You assumed that his stand simply wasn't adequate.

Thinking more about it, you concluded that it truly was unusual. That and the fact that, out of all team members, you grew to be the closest to him, and yet did not know anything about his ability.

You had the opportunity to ask, but chose not to. You were no nosy type, and you wouldn't pry in case someone didn't wish to speak. You realized right at the beginning that these abilities wouldn't be easily shared with you, for you were new. The general distrust taught you not to snoop, and you were fine with that.

Fugo evidently had no desire to bring up his stand, so why rile him up? It wasn't even that important. Someday, you would find out its power, the same way you chatted to the Pistols and observed Aerosmith's pirouettes.

Understanding and patient as you were, this slow, mannered approach of yours earned immediate approval among your teammates. You recognized your boundaries and never overstepped them, thus remaining on everyone's good side. Even Abbacchio took a quick liking to you. And according to Fugo, that was extraordinary.

Things would reveal themselves on their own, in the right place and time, you reckoned. Upon being assigned your mission, this mindset was awarded. You glanced over to Fugo, knowing you'd soon get to see his stand in action.

"If it's no problem, Buccellati, I just have to finish correcting Narancia's assignments, then we can go," he explained to the team leader. Buccellati nodded in agreement.

"Make sure you're quick."

"Absolutely! Looks like Narancia has been improving, so this will be fast. In fact, he hasn't made a single mistake."

Narancia was sitting next to Fugo with a massive grin, staring at the many check marks and not a single cross on the paper.

"Not a single mistake, you say?" Mista repeated.

"Not a single mistake indeed," Fugo confirmed, vastly proud. This only made Mista laugh.

"Should I tell him?" Mista turned towards Abbacchio, and the white-haired male chuckled. They exchanged mischievous looks. You knew nothing good would come out of this, and so your brows knitted together in worry. Looking back to Narancia and Fugo, you noticed the once grinning boy had a slightly panicked expression. Just what was happening...?

"Tell me what?" Fugo too was beginning to get wary.

"Nothing!" Narancia abruptly responded instead of Mista. He couldn't have made himself more suspicious, you thought, squinting your eyes. You were absolutely certain he was hiding something and he was hiding it from Pannacotta Fugo. Did Narancia value his life that low?

You truly didn't want to see your dear friend vexed all over again, simply because of that boy's silly scheme. So you watched carefully, trying to dismantle this mess in your head before it would be too late.

The gunslinger laughed again, this time with a hand over his mouth. The fact even Abbacchio couldn't keep his amusement to himself, and instead smiled profusely, was enough of an omen.

"Boys, what are you hiding?" Buccellati's question was supposed to bring out some clarity in this situation. However, it failed to, for nobody wanted to speak up.

Fugo skewed the topic a little. "I have no idea what's happening, but I should announce that Narancia hadn't made a single mistake. Good job!"

"Hehe. Easy peasy lemon squeezy," Narancia responded to that.

"Gimme a high five, Narancia," Mista suggested and bent over the table, his hand in the air for Narancia to... not high five it. He shook his head no in awkward refusal.

"Why not?" Mista faked his sadness. "Come on, a little high five. Low five? Any five?"

Narancia grimaced. You rolled your eyes and offered your insight. "Is it that hard to lift your hand and high five Mista? Look." You did it instead of Narancia, which caused Mista a radiant grin. Despite this, the black-haired boy refused. Your doubts were fueled in abundance.

"Is there a reason why you don't want to show your hands?"

Narancia stuck out a tongue at you and lifted his left hand. "Nah. And is there a reason why Fugo and you are being late for the mission?" Oh dear, he was getting too defensive, which you noted with a blank face.

"Narancia!" Fugo scolded. He tried to reach out to the boy's right hand, but Narancia moved it away.

"Narancia, behave yourself immediately and stop this nonsense," Buccellati silenced him. He looked at you, then Fugo. "And you two aren't being late. I believe I know what's behind this farce, so there's no need to ruin yet another table to find out." The leader glared at Narancia and Fugo who were both in uncomfortable positions.

"It's evident, Buccellati. He's been cheating and wrote the answers on his hand," Fugo hissed, letting go of Narancia's biceps. The boy winced.

"On his fingers, to be exact," Abbacchio added nonchalantly.

"Oh fuck off," Narancia grumpily cursed and crossed his arms. Buccellati told you and Fugo to leave, and that he would deal with this problem himself. He tossed you the car keys with a chilling look. It was eerie, you had to admit. But you were glad you didn't get to witness Buccellati's anger, and thus were left with something just a tiny bit better: an annoyed Fugo.

Consequently, the mission began in silence. The two of you exited Libeccio with little to no information available. You knew the location of only one of your targets, and through that one man, you were supposed to find other people behind this conspiracy against the Famiglia. This was a job for your stand, obviously – you would pinpoint and track any target once it's marked. However, it had no destructive power, because it was literally a pair of binoculars. What could you do with them, hit someone in the head?

That was where you supposed Fugo's stand would step in. Something deadly for sure, to kill off everyone in this group. If what Buccellati had heard was correct, they had a meeting later that day, meaning all of them would be gathered on one spot. Convenient for killing.

You reached the car Buccellati was kind enough to borrow. You unlocked it and were about to enter, when you felt Fugo's hold on your hand. "I can drive," he offered.

"Are you sure?" Being the newest member meant you had the honor of driving others every single time, and you were used to that obligation. Seeing that Fugo could do that instead of you was... a surprise, simply put.

Although you asked such a meaningless question, Fugo found a reason to be annoyed. The violets of his eyes turned a shade darker. "I wouldn't be offering that if I weren't sure."

Sure, having a literal hedgehog of a person by your side wasn't too pleasant. But he was surprisingly easy to read. At the slightest signs of his irritation coming, you would make sure to avoid any future provocations. It wasn't a hard thing to do, not at all.

Fugo had good intentions and if his problems with rage were overlooked, you knew he would be an absolute angel. This time, similarly, he was trying to help. It was something you could only appreciate. So you nodded and responded, as calm as you could get, "Then thank you for being a gentleman. That's very nice of you."

Internally, you weren't as relaxed. What was it that you had just said? You bit your tongue. It sounded so weird, didn't it? But you just wanted to compliment Fugo.

And every time, he'd be positively baffled. He let go of you, his gaze switching its focus back and forth between your hand and your peaceful visage. Lastly, he smiled. Of course he did. "Why, it's nothing! You're welcome!" The way he'd always brighten at your understanding nature, ever so shyly, ever so innocently – it was something that never failed to make your heart flutter.

. . .

When Buccellati said you wouldn't be late, he was absolutely right. The man you were after was in his house and did not move at all. It took you about an hour of waiting to finally see him leave his residence, and hopefully, head to the remainder of the conspirators. But beforehand, you made sure to comfort Fugo about Narancia's cheating; luckily, it worked, and Fugo was quick to thank you.

After you had spotted the target with your stand, marked it on the tiny map on the binoculars, you followed the man's drive all the way to the rural parts of Napoli. Fugo wasn't exactly... the gentlest driver out there. Every now and then (to be exact, every time he would hit the brakes or start accelerating), you were reminded that it would've been way better if you were the one at the steering wheel. Oh well, too late to change that.

The neighborhood you were lead into was in deep neglect, and yet, nature found a way to make it pretty. Rebellious was the grass all around, falling over the sidewalk, and an occasional flower laid here and there to further disarrange the scenery. Trees grew in unorderly batches, not a single straight line to mark a well-planted row. Amongst the green, buildings were a scarce sight, but nothing short of unpleasant. Most were vandalized in one way or another, and the usual warm, prideful architecture in Napoli's center was completely absent in their build. It was almost as if you were in a completely different city.

The good thing about this tracking situation was that you didn't have to see the target's car, you had the map on your stand. Consequently, the target would have no guess that he was being followed. You were far enough not to be noticed.

And once the target slowed down, you knew he was on his feet. You informed Fugo and he, unfortunately, sped up. Dashing through the streets, the two of you quickly reached your target's proximity. That was when you told Fugo to park the car, which he did, albeit sloppily.

You got out of the car and walked to the house inside which the man had gone. You checked once again if the location on your binoculars' map matched the one you were in front of. It did. Your spot on the map was almost the same as that of the marked man's.

"He's in there," you confirmed.

"I'll send in my stand to get this over with," Fugo told you in a hush, "but we'll have to get near."

He walked over to the brick wall, and you followed. He leaned against it, standing by the window, then lifted a hand towards you.

"(Y/N)? Would you please move a little?"

You nodded and backed off. "Your stand?"

He nodded back. Next to him, the long-awaited mystery of a stand emerged. It was an oblique humanoid figure, shrouded in...

"Purple Haze!" Fugo presented his somber stand, and to announce his appearance, Purple Haze groaned. It wasn't only the jarring sound that abandoned his mouth. Through bared teeth and the stitches on his mouth, saliva, yes, so much saliva dripped – down his chin, onto the ground in long slivers. Tethered above was a pair of manic eyes that screamed of bewilderment, and spoke to you with its deadly stare. A sleek visor, curling down like a preying beak, was the only frail filter between you and Purple Haze's aggressive gaze.

The remainder of his attributes were sent into oblivion. You could not redirect your attention. It was wholly, utterly enslaved to this bane's eyes and its low growls. Was this monstrosity the manifestation of Fugo's soul?

One elaborate scene lasting a single instant, no more. That was enough to render you terrified. The very next moment, Fugo had his stand enter the house through the window – he cracked the glass with a high kick and swooped inside, that menace.

Fugo's menace. The mafioso stared back at you, his expression darkened by newfound misery. Your shock must've impacted him, and you knew, he felt bad for petrifying you. He told a lengthy explanation for you to, perhaps, calm down. To console you.

"My stand is capable of releasing a deadly airborne virus. Since our targets are inside with Purple Haze, the virus won't reach us. Everything will be over in no time." Having finished that sentence, Fugo paused – screeches began rising from the house. "So there's no reason to worry. You're safe and sound," he assured, then looked away.

Truth be told, you weren't even scared, rather – intimidated. That's what you had told him to ease him, then sat on the warm curb right at your feet. Yes, this had to be over soon. Judging by the croaking screams, you were positive it wouldn't last long. Otherwise, you'd go insane. It was deeply unnerving to sit idly next to carnage, and not do anything else but take in the death.

But the wails died down, and another sensation would come in. You heard a thump next to you, footsteps nearing – and that frightening gruff hum tagged along. You looked upwards, and saw none other than Fugo's stand. He bore into you with his intense pupils. Their severity could not be handled. Reflexively, you jumped on your feet, staggering backwards, and were about to scream for Fugo when you realized something was happening.

Your brows knitted together, you blinked, once, twice, thrice, unsure if you were seeing this right. Purple Haze ducked and picked a flower from the ground. He lifted it, a gesture meant for you and you only.

"Purple Haze...?" You whispered, not believing your vision a single bit.

Fugo's stand was murmuring incoherent gargles, hand still in the air, delicately holding the plant for you to take it. With his head hung low, the helmet hiding his face, it seemed almost as if he was... ashamed. If it weren't for the stark impression from before, you were certain you'd find this adorable.

And you were about to accept the precious gift when the stand user began yelling.

"Purple Haze! What the hell are you doing?!"

The stand made some guttural sounds, probably out of dissatisfaction, then turned towards his user. You, on the other hand, had to jump to the side because Fugo was yelling right into your ear.

You lifted your both hands, ready to cover your ears. "What's wrong?"

"(Y/N), get away from him. Right now!"

"B-but why?"

His fists balled up. "Just do it!" His sharp order made you flinch.

Strangely, although Fugo had ordered you to move, he got rid of his stand before you made more than a step. The ominous apparition vanished with a sound you could only perceive as sad – and so, the flower it had once held floated down to the ground. A sorrowful sight that trapped your fixation for a second or so. Afterwards, Fugo was heard.

"(Y/N), come here right now, please, just come," Fugo called out. You managed to discern desperation in his plea, but did not understand the excessive worry. It would be right to say you were slightly disturbed by the entire turnabout of events – and so, you quietly complied.

Once you reached him, he did not comment. You two began walking towards your car. He bore a grumpy façade, and likewise, shrouded his surroundings in uncomfortable silence. You debated if breaking it would be a good idea – you were unsure if you did something wrong, but then again, this guy could get stressed about the most minor of details.

As you saw for yourself, he had control over his stand. So why did he get so angry?

"Fugo."

"What?" He almost spat.

"I don't know what happened and why you reacted the way you did, but everything is fine. Nothing bad has happened."

Fugo grumbled in response. "Nothing bad has happened now, that's true. But promise me you will keep your distance from my stand."

"If it unsettles you that much, then no problem, I promise I'll do that." You tilted your head in his direction. The gloom in his expression had not faltered. "What's the deal with Purple Haze? Are you scared you can't control your stand?"

He snorted. "Absolutely not. I can control Purple Haze, but accidents happen, and I can't afford a stupid, preventable accident to cost an entire life. Your life. What if one of the sockets carrying the virus cracked when you took the flower? They're on his knuckles." Fugo lifted a fist. "You could've died then and there."

The gravity of the situation finally presented itself. With a nod and a newly formed lump in your throat, you acknowledged his explanation. You understood that his behavior stemmed from worry – so you couldn't help but feel bad for him, and yourself as well.

The risk was real and you could've succumbed to it. It was through dumb luck that you survived, and you knew that – but Fugo must've felt far worse, for it was him that the death would be blamed on.

"I'm sorry," you finally said, just in case. This surprised him.

"Why?"

Whereas others would continue blabbering or even arguing, inconsiderate in their wake, you were wise enough to stop. Just a little bit of patience did wonders. For you, to think things through – or even, to fasten your hold on the reins of usually wild conversations.

You happened to be one of the rare people willing to reconcile, sort things out peacefully. Compromise was what you were after; Fugo deserved it.

For he was a good person after all. He would eventually overcome his agitation and accept his faults. You knew this, and you knew how much he struggled to do so. Making things easier for him was the least you could do; you cared for him.

"For making you worry. I just didn't understand what was happening at the moment or why I might be in danger."

And it was through your apology that Fugo would find a reason to apologize himself.

"O-oh. It's fine. I... uh..." You heard him heave an aggravated sigh. "Never mind, you shouldn't be apologizing, it wasn't your fault anyway," he mumbled. Tone low paired with a tongue soft, you knew he was gradually calming down. Oddly, it relieved you as well.

Now, to lighten the conversation. Something very relevant. "It's okay. But hey, you have to admit it was super sweet of your stand to give me the flower," you pointed out.

You noticed that Fugo's jaw had clenched before his unconcerned reply. "And weird too. I wonder why he did that." He stopped in his tracks, thus confusing you.

"Something wrong?"

He was looking sideways, to the ground, at the moment you questioned him. Once he heard you, he whipped his head towards you, his eyes wide. "Not really. But give me a moment, please!" Then he stepped aside, to the very edge of the sidewalk, and squatted. You got even more confused.

When he stood up and turned around to face you, in his hand you saw a petite flower, similar to the one Purple Haze had once picked for you. But Fugo went a step further – he bowed, and even exclaimed dramatically:

"I'm sincerely sorry for lashing out on you. Please accept this flower as my humble apology!"

Oh, Fugo. Constantly nervous and so deeply insecure he was, fixing his mistakes and stepping over his rage, with countless of apologies and countless of tremors. His act was that of chivalry, and warmed your heart it did, however, his very own core was left in a qualm.

And the fact saddened you. You tried to joke around to make him laugh, if anything, to brighten his mood.

"Copying Purple Haze? So unoriginal." You rolled your eyes in a playful manner.

But Fugo, that poor boy, he misinterpreted your action. An awkward expression formed on his face as he straightened his back. "Well... you liked it when he did that...? So, uh..." His stammers were horrible to listen to. You had to do something, but what? How to show him that he was appreciated, forgiven? Show him –

You sighed, shook your head lightly. If it meant that you'd have to overstep your boundaries, then so be it.

Fugo's guard was low, so you took advantage of that to dive in for a tight hug. He simply froze – this surprised him vastly, you were certain. You were surprised as well. Purple Haze? That was nothing. Hugging Fugo was dozens of times scarier, or at least that was what your heartbeat rightfully dictated.

Because he was rigid. Unmoving, unsettling – unwelcoming.

The realization crept on you: you miscalculated. You quickly found yourself wanting to move away, doubts and misconceptions landing on your conscience like the worst of sham. It was as if you were rejected – no, no, you were being rejected, by someone who you truly cared for, and somehow, you understood in that regretful moment, by someone you wanted to care about you as well.

Affection, for him? That couldn't work, that would never work. You wanted to strip him off of it, for he could not handle it. That was when you felt him shift, move his arms upwards to – to actually hug you back.

Gentle words reached your ear, healing your hurting soul. "You... um, you smell nice," he complimented quietly. Just like that, a grin overtook your face. One statement, and he erased all of your aches.

You mumbled a thank you. Fugo would assume that it was simply gratitude for his kind words, but you knew its meaning was a lofty one – through this, you believed you realized your feelings towards him. And what once was a hurrying heartbeat that raced with fear, became a gleeful sensation that spread all over your chest.

Fleeting was the embrace, far too long and yet – surely not enough. Once the two of you stepped away from each other, no words were discovered to describe the moment. Fugo held a bashful smile, and you knew he wouldn't speak up first. You noticed a detail more, something that instantly made you chuckle.

"You dropped the poor flower," you told him with a pout.

"I... I had greater priorities other than holding it," he justified himself.

Priorities, he mentioned? Oh, you remembered something very important.

"Speaking of greater priorities, I am driving us back," you informed, placing your hands on your hips. Fugo had no choice but to agree.

Purple Haze was a fitting stand indeed. Misunderstood, just like his user, and undoubtedly a sweetheart.

#purple haze #fugo #pannacotta fugo #fugo x reader #fugo pannacotta #jojo x reader #jjba x reader #pannacotta fugo x reader #fugo headcanon #fugo headcanons #vento aureo #jjba part 5 #jojo part 5 #golden wind #vento aureo x reader #UWU

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mylordshesacactus · 3 years

Note

okay so i don't think any of these have been done before... fortnight, ancient, and forever please :)

what wip do you plan on posting next, if at all?

well that would be telling, wouldn’t it

(It’s--shock of shocks, stunner of stunners--a Happy Huntresses oneshot with @alexkablob, tongue-in-cheek working doc title is “May’s Crazy Interns”)

the first fic you ever posted online?

ohohoho y’all do not need to know me like that

it was a Narnia fanfic I started writing when I was literally thirteen. Honestly, I stand by the core concept as pretty damn strong--it was a story about the formation of Aslan’s Rebellion, a few decades pre-LWW, especially focusing on how the Wolves became part of Jadis’ army when they are clearly Talking Beasts like the rest of the Narnians.

(tl;dr she decided she WANTED wolves on hand, set about systematically disrupting their traditional social structure and community bonds, then started grooming frustrated young males. I was a normal eighth grader.)

It ended with a total party kill, with a few chapters of falling action after Aslan revived all the Narnians who’d been turned to stone in LWW. That number including the protagonist, who was the last surviving member of her found family before she was petrified. So, she gets to come back, but since almost everyone else she loved was killed outright...there was a decent amount of time spent on letting her get back to physical health, letting her choose NOT to take part in the climactic battle because she was traumatized and exhausted and letting the narrative validate her for that choice, and then Crystal Dragon Lion Jesus having a quiet talk with her about healing and grief and what the entire hell she’s supposed to do now.

VERY NORMAL eighth grader.

Obviously the concept was WAY too fucking ambitious for my skill at the time, and if I were to write it today I’d remove a lot of the elements that didn’t really add anything to the story and were mostly there because they’d been part of my initial “what if...” spitballing before I decided to write the thing down, and I wasn’t good enough yet to know what concepts to cut, spread between multiple characters, or save for another story.

So like. It’s not good. At all. But I’m not gonna beat up on 13-year-old Jo for it either, because for a story that was both her very first fanfiction ever AND her first OC, she avoided a lot of pitfalls and it’s pretty impressive in context.

do you balance fic writing with original concept stuff?

eh. I don’t really like the phrasing of “balance” in this question and what that implies, but I get what you mean.

I do quite a decent amount of original concept stuff. I have one that I may even start writing down someday soon just, like....for fun, to see what happens. My problem is that I end up with REALLY cool worldbuilding and EXTREMELY strong characters....and absolute fuckall to DO with them. I don’t know what I want the PLOT to be.

Which is why for this fun high-fantasy original concept I’m tossing around, I may (MAY. don’t get excited) try like....writing a handful of short stories and posting them, just to see what people think and get them out there. Maybe see if I can’t polish them into a coherent overall narrative from there.

Might even put them up as like a pay-what-you-like thing if I ever get that far. Again--just to see what happens!

#askmeme #disregardcanon

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anything4our-moony · 3 years

Text

By the Water Fountain

Pairing: Draco x Harry

Word count: 4.6k

Rating: T, mild language

Warnings: mention of excess drinking

Prompt/Summary: from @lxncelot‘s 100 dialogue prompts:

8- “Keep talking, I want to fall asleep to your voice.”

43- “Why didn’t you tell me?”

68- “But I’ve never told you that before.”

This is my first time posting a oneshot on this blog; I hope you all enjoy! <3

•••

Harry honestly didn’t drink very often.

He would occasionally have a beer with friends at dinner or a glass of firewhisky on special occasions. He was typically the designated sober friend when Seamus and Ron wanted to get drunk and sing karaoke in muggle bars, ensuring that they made it safely to their homes at the end of the night. He didn’t mind; he loved seeing his friends happy.

But after the day Harry had, he welcomed the blurred around the edges effect that crept into his vision as he downed his 4th drink at a local pub, and it was all because of Draco Bloody Malfoy.

Harry and Draco’s paths began to cross quite frequently, Harry working in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and Draco being the healer to patch up his wounds when his Gryffindor heart outweighed his rational brain and got him into dangerous situations. The fifth time Harry ended up at St. Mungo’s, Draco simply shook his head and muttered, “We have got to stop meeting like this, Potter.”

After getting over the initial awkwardness of ‘used to be enemies but are now grown adults with bigger issues’, they started to form an almost friendship. They both frequented a small, family owned Middle Eastern restaurant on their lunch breaks that was nearby the hospital, and after running into each other one two many times, decided to start sitting and eating together. “Because there’s no need to give the staff double the work, Potter.” Draco had scoffed when Harry had raised an eyebrow at his suggested arrangement. But he never complained.

Harry sat on the stiff, wooden barstool, stirring his drink mindlessly and staring at the glistening ice cubes, possibly hoping they had advice for him, when he heard a familiar voice behind him.

“This seat taken?” Ron Weasley sat down next to Harry and gestured to the bartender. “Can I get a pint of whatever you have on draft?” He turned to look Harry up and down. “You look like hell.”

Harry raised his glass a bit and mutter “Cheers, mate.”

Ron snorted. “Who is he and what’s he done to make the great Harry Potter run away to a bar to get plastered alone?”

When Harry first “came out” to his friends, Ron was the first to accept it. He had a conversation with all of their male friends and told them if they ever said anything cross to Harry about it, he’d hex their bollocks off. He was so grateful for Ron’s unwavering loyalty.

“How do you know it’s a bloke that’s got me gutted?” Harry replied, still staring down at his drink.

“Please.” Ron scoffed. “You’ve been staring at that drink like it might lay you on a couch and start giving you relationship advice.” He took a swig of his drink and added “Plus I’ve known you since you were eleven, mate. You’re not as mysterious and hard to read as you think.”

That made Harry laugh and then groan. He put his head in his hands. “Ron. I think that I might fancy someone.”

Ron looked startled, but replied, “Harry that’s great! Anyone I know?”

Harry moaned into his hands and hesitated but finally answered. “I think...I think I fancy Draco Malfoy.”

Harry hadn’t come to this realization quickly. Obviously he knew he was into blokes, but he never really considered anyone he was already acquainted with as an option. His small dating pool consisted of first dates with internet matches and set ups with friends of friends whose only similarity to Harry was their mutual queerness.

But Draco was...well, Draco. He would insult and tease you to your wits end, but was fiercely protective of the people he loved being their backs. He was outwardly cocky and arrogant, but when Draco sat next to Harry’s bed at St. Mungo’s chatting with him hours after his shift ended, he would confide in Harry all the ways he was immensely unsure of himself. He confessed how frightened he was that someday he wouldn’t be allowed to continue his work because the wrong person wouldn’t want an “Ex Death Eater” saving their life. He admitted that he had been utterly terrified during the war; that he wandered out early on, but had no idea how to get out without risking his and his parents’ lives. He even thanked Harry for the time he saved him in the room of requirement.

“I never showed you even an ounce of kindness, yet you risked your life just to save me. I didn’t know anyone could be that selfless.”

Even after all that, Harry still hadn’t put a name to what he was feeling for Draco. He couldn’t pinpoint what it was until that morning; the morning that caused him to end up in the pub in the first place.

Harry met Draco for lunch at their usual spot. They were talking about the recent Quidditch match that they had both read about in the Daily Prophet.

“I don’t know why the Harpies don’t just go ahead and make Ginevra the starting seeker. She’s not doing any good on the bench, and she can fly circles around that Malcolm chap.” He sipped his coffee and continued, “I bet she could even give you a run for your money.”

Harry laughed and took a bite of his falafel. “She could definitely kick my arse at this stage in my life. I haven’t been on a broomstick since the last time I tried to give Rose Weasley a flying lesson, and I think even she was better than me by the end of the day.” Draco flashed an easy smile at him.

They paid for their food and began to walk towards the hospital. There had been a misfired jinx at Harry’s work, resulting in all of the plumbing pouring out fruit pastilles instead of water. It didn’t seem like that big of a deal to him, but he was glad to have the rest of the day off regardless.

They walked in comfortable silence for a bit. The restaurant hadn’t been busy, so Draco had a few minutes to spare before he needed to return to his shift. They decided to take a seat on the edge of an old fountain in the middle of the square.

Draco looked at the water and laughed light heartedly. “Muggles are so odd. Why would anyone throw money into the water just to watch it sink? Do they know that it’s useless down there?”

Harry couldn’t help but smile. “It’s a superstitious tradition. You throw the money in and make a wish, and it’s supposed to come true. I’m not really sure why, though. Maybe because you made some odd kind of offering to the god of water fountains.” Draco pursed his lips and considered this.

“Here.” Harry said and reached into his pocket and pulled out two sickles. He handed one to Draco and closed his eyes. “I wish that the pipes get filled with candy at work more often so I can spend more time with my dear friend Draco.” He threw the coin over his shoulder, and it

splashed into the water. Draco smiled. He stared at the coin in his hand for a long moment, and just as Harry was about to open his mouth and say something, he closed his eyes and closed his hand around the coin.

“I wish that the world will someday see me for the good things I do in the present and will do in the future rather than the bad things I did in my past.” He tossed the coin over his shoulder and opened his eyes.

Harry stared into the grey eyes he had lately been becoming more and more familiar with. There was a hint of sadness there, but also a look of steadfast finality. He knew that Draco would continue to try and pay for his mistakes time and time again, whether through healing those who needed him or reinventing himself into the kindhearted, compassionate individual he was today. A gust of wind suddenly blew his platinum blonde hair into his face, and without thinking, Harry reached up and gently pushed it out of the way, revealing his grey eyes once again. Draco stiffened, and Harry dropped his hand and looked away. After a too long pause, Draco cleared his throat.

“I’ll- I better go inside, then.” He stood and brushed off the back of his trousers. Harry, carefully avoiding his eyes, nodded and stood as well. They both murmured awkward goodbyes and went their separate ways.

•••

Harry rested his elbows on the sticky bar top and groaned again. He fancied Draco Malfoy, and now he wasn’t sure if he’d ever recover.

Ron spluttered a bit, then finally said, “Well, it could be worse. At least he’s pretty attractive.”

Harry shifted his gaze towards his friend, frowning. “Yes I’m quite aware of that, thanks.” He sighed. “I think I just need to have a few more drinks about it.”

Ron smiled and patted Harry on the shoulder. Suddenly, his phone chimed, causing Ron to jump. He was still having trouble getting used to muggle technology.

He frowned. “Uh oh. ‘Mione says baby Hugo’s got a stomach bug. I better get home and relieve her for a bit.” He stood up and said pointedly to Harry, “It’s not the end of the world, mate. If you think it’ll work, ask him out. If you don’t-“ he shrugged “I guess you’re on the right track.” He gestured towards Harry’s empty glass. “Listen, don’t try and apparate in your condition. Get a cab or something, and call me if you need anything.” Harry grunted a response, not knowing if he could say anything coherent in his state. Ron patted his shoulder again, then turned and headed out the door.

Harry sighed, then asked the bartender for another drink.

After a while, the crowd in the pub began to dwindle down, and Harry realized he should probably make the trek home. He stood up and saw stars and knew Ron was right; he definitely could not apparate like this, unless he wanted half of him to end up in the Pacific Ocean. But there was one problem- Harry didn’t have any muggle money for a cab, and he was too drunk to remember what to do in this situation. He remembered Ron’s offer and picked up his phone and went to his recent calls. He was about to choose Ron’s contact when he saw another name.

‘Malfoy’ with a green snake emoji.

Harry giggled and grinned, and thought ‘what the hell?’ He stepped outside and clicked the call button.

It rang one and a half times, and a gravelly voice grumbled, “Potter? What the hell are you doing, do you know what time it is?”

Harry snorted and replied, “Yes Draco, I do know how to read.” He giggled. “Just because I’m not in Ravenclaw doesn’t mean I’m stupid.”

There was a short pause, and Draco remarked, “Are you drunk?”

“Hmm”, Harry mused happily, and said, “Extremely.”

Draco let out an exasperated sigh, and there was a shuffle of movement on the other line. “Where are you?” He demanded.

Harry looked and his vision swam. “Um. London?” He heard Draco inhale and start to say something, but quickly continued. “I’m just kidding, hah. There’s a street sign, but I don’t know what it says. Maybe I can’t read...” he trailed off. Then he spotted a familiar sculpture in front of a small park, and he perked up. “Oh! I see my statue!” He narrowed his eyes at the golden replica of him that had been placed there not too long ago. “It’s really embarrassing that they put that here. And I don’t think I’m actually that tall.”

Draco sighed again, and said, “Potter. I’ll be there in approximately 4 seconds. Please try not to die.” The line went dead, and Harry heard the *crack* of someone apparating next to him.

Put together, ready for the day Draco was already a sight to see; his pure blood upbringing instilled a need to constantly look flawless, no wrinkles or hairs out of place. He had immaculate posture, and one could tell by merely looking at him that he was someone important. But rumpled, hair perfectly messy, fresh out of bed blinking sleep from his eyes Draco? Well.

He was so beautiful Harry could cry.

“Hi.” Harry grinned drunkenly at him. Draco pursed his lips, looking equally amused and annoyed at the same time.

He murmured a simple, “Hello.”

Harry stared at his face, so gorgeously illuminated in the moonlight, sharp edges softened by the glow. Even in his drunken state, he wondered how he missed this; how he hadn’t recognized the burning need to stroke his ivory skin, run his fingers over his sharp nose, his lips...

Harry shook his head and sighed. “I’m drunk.”

Draco’s mouth turned up slightly at the corner, and he simply replied, “Quite.” He turned to look around. “We can side along apparate as long as you don’t try to do it yourself. Otherwise we’ll both end up splinched between here and Merlin knows where.” Draco put one arm around Harry’s waist and the other firmly on his bicep so they were chest to chest, while Harry tried to ignore the butterflies in his stomach.

Draco looked at him softly, expression unreadable, and asked, “Are you ready?” Harry swallowed and nodded, trying to ignore how close their faces were. Harry closed his eyes and hoped he didn’t vomit as the familiar feeling pulled at his stomach and the air swirled around him.

Just as quickly as it had started, everything suddenly stilled. “Harry.” Draco whispered. Harry opened his eyes to see Draco staring at him intently, with the same soft and confusing look as earlier. “Come on, I’ll help you up the stairs.”

Harry vaguely noticed that he didn’t quite recognize where they were, but he was focusing most of his attention on breathing steadily. He was extremely aware that Draco kept a firm hand on Harry’s waist as they walked up the stairs to a quaint little townhouse. Draco unlocked the door with the key and quietly let Harry inside.

At this point, Harry could feel his eyes starting to close on their own and his legs start to grow weak from exhaustion. Luckily, Draco led Harry to a bedroom with a beautiful wooden four poster bed. He sat down on the edge and rubbed his temples while Draco rummaged through a dresser. He pulled out a shirt and a pair of sleep pants and handed them to Harry.

“I’ll run and get you a glass of water.” He patted the top of Harry’s head before exiting the room and closing the door behind him. Harry quickly changed out of his stiff work clothes into the more comfortable ones Draco had leant him. He ran a hand through his unruly curls and moved to lay down. Draco came back with a glass of water and a small vial.

“Take this in the morning. It’ll help a bit.” Draco smiled as he sat on the edge of the bed and shook his head. “I never thought I’d have to be the one to rescue Harry Potter from a drunken escapade.”

Harry snorted sleepily. “I’m usually not one to drown my sorrows, but there’s a first time for everything.”

Draco pressed his mouth into a hard line and retorted, “Who’s the lucky girl that got to break The Chosen One’s heart?”

Harry just stared at him confused for a moment, before blurting out, “I’m gay.” Draco raised an eyebrow, and he continued, “Like, really really gay.”

Draco once again got that unreadable expression on his face, but his shoulders relaxed a little bit. “Well, I hope whoever had you ‘drowning your sorrows’, as you so eloquently put it, is worth it.” He started to stand up, but Harry clumsily grabbed for his hand.

“Wait no.” He frowned. “Keep talking, I want to fall asleep to the sound of your voice.” Draco’s face reddened (and Harry was way too drunk to consider what that meant), but nodded and sat back down.

“What would you like me to talk about, then?” Harry closed his eyes and relaxed. “Tell me more about your wish. At the fountain.”

He heard Draco’s breathing, not slow and even, but not panting either. Harry was vaguely aware that he was still clutching Draco’s hand. “I know that there’s no excuse for my actions. I’m well aware that I hurt more people than I can even begin to understand,” he hesitated, “but I hope someday I’ll be remembered as someone who eventually started to help rather than hurt.”

Harry wanted to keep listening, wanted Draco to talk to him until his voice gave out, but exhaustion was slowly taking over. He softly squeezed Draco’s hand and murmured, “I’ll always know that. I’ll remember.”

As Harry drifted off to sleep, Draco whispered, “Thank you, Harry.”

•••

Harry woke up the next morning feeling as though he had been repeatedly run over by the knight bus. He groaned and sat up. With a start, he realized he was not in his bedroom. He looked around the light grey room as the events of the night before came flooding back to him. “Oh Merlin.” He moaned and put his head in his hands.

“No, sorry, just me.” Draco smiled as he walked through the door. He set a mug of steaming tea next to Harry and said, “Three sugars and a pinch of cinnamon.” Harry looked up at him, squinting a bit as his eyes adjusted to the light.

“You know how I like my tea.” He stated blatantly. “But I’ve never told you that before.” Draco looked away, embarrassed.

“I’ve eaten lunch with you almost every day for the past four months, Potter. It’s an insult to my intelligence that you think I’m that unobservant.” There was no malice in his voice, only light hearted teasing. He looked at the bedside table and handed Harry his glasses and the vial he placed there the night before. “This won’t cure a hangover, but it’ll make it a hell of a lot more bearable.”

Harry mumbled a thanks and slid his glasses onto his face. He downed the potion in one gulp and grimaced. Draco laughed at whatever face Harry was making. He grumbled, “Remind me never to go near alcohol again.”

“Duly noted.” Draco said with another grin. “Come one them, I’ll make breakfast.”

Harry walked into the living room and noticed the blanket and pillow laid on the couch. “You slept on the sofa?” Harry asked.

Draco shrugged. “My bed was a bit occupied for the night.”

“I would have shared.” Harry replied without thinking. Draco looked away and busied himself in the kitchen.

What on Earth was wrong with him, Harry wondered idly. Draco apparently had the uncanny ability to make Harry say whatever was on his mind, both drunk and hungover it seemed. Draco started to hum to himself while he buttered bread, and Harry walked over and sat himself on the counter and allowed himself to really stare.

Draco was in the same rumpled shirt and sleep pants he had been wearing when he rescued Harry from the streets of London the night before. His hair was a bit flattened in the back from his pillow, and he had his sleeves pushed up to his elbows. Harry let himself daydream about

getting to witness this every morning; waking up to Draco, looking like a slightly disheveled Adonis, making Harry breakfast. His heart yearned for the domesticity of it all.

He didn’t realize he’d been caught staring until he looked up and his eyes met Draco’s. His cheeks warmed and he but his lip, embarrassed, but didn’t look away. He tapped his fingers on the counter anxiously. Draco stared at him for a moment longer then looked away, continuing his cooking. “Are cheese toasties alright? I always like a bit of comfort food when I’m hungover.” Draco smiled at him, a small but still dazzling smile.

“You don’t have to do that for me, I’m fine with anything, really.” He looked down at his fingers still tapping the counter.

Suddenly Draco’s hand covered his, halting his anxious tapping. “A bit restless, are we?” he teased softly. Harry looked up, about to respond, and realized Draco’s face was mere inches away from his own. He wasn’t sure if it was the leftover alcohol in his system or if it was his stupid, reckless Gryffindor heart, but something in him made him suddenly close the distance between them to kiss him.

As soon as he did it, he regretted it and pulled away. He leaped down from the counter and stumbled away towards the living room.

“I’m- er, sorry, I’ll just...” he stuttered. “I’m going to go.”

Draco reached an arm out to him. “Harry, wait-“

“Thank you for, um, all this. I-“, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “See you later.”

He quickly disapparated, leaving Draco standing in the kitchen looking confused, his arm still extended towards Harry.

•••

Harry hadn’t moved from his spot on the couch since he had arrived in his flat 3 hours earlier. He laid on his back with his arm flung over his eyes, his head still pounding from the hangover and his mortifying actions in Draco’s kitchen. His heart sank every time he thought about it. The

truth was, even before Harry’s discovery of his more than friendly feelings towards Draco, he’d cherished their relationship. Ron and Hermione were great friends, but they were everything to each other and often were lost in their own bubble, which was something Harry couldn’t and didn’t want to compete with. His relationship with Draco was something Harry had all to himself. It was effortless and easy, and he found himself looking forward to any time they spent together. He knew he’d ruined everything, and he was already grieving the loss of their friendship.

There was a soft knock on his door. He groaned. A local football team had been going door to door selling magazines to raise money for some kind of tournament for the past week. He got up and slowly walked to the door. As he opened it he said, “Look guys, I already bought a subscription last week, I’m really not interested in-“. He looked up.

Draco stood in the doorway with a tentative smile plastered on his face. He held up a brown paper sack and said, “You left without your breakfast.” Harry blinked at him, not processing what was going on. “Er-“, Draco rubbed his hand on the back of his neck, “can I come in?”

Harry blinked and nodded, stepping out of the way. Draco walked to the sofa and sat down. He looked back at Harry, who was still standing by the doorway looking flabbergasted, and gestured towards the empty seat next to him. Harry swallowed and slowly walked to the couch, sitting as far away from Draco as the tiny love seat allowed.

They were both silent for a moment. Harry started to tap his fingers anxiously on the cushions, but he remembered what had happened the last time he had done that near Draco and decided to put his hands in his lap instead.

Draco finally broke the silence by saying, “Do you remember Blaise Zabini?”

Harry pursed his lips at the odd question but answered, “Of course. He works over at Gringotts now, right?”

Draco nodded and continued, “He and I had a sort of fling in our fifth year. Very casual, very secret, but still very real.”

Harry stared at him blankly until realization dawned on him. “So...you’re saying that you’re-“.

“‘Like, really really gay’ as you so eloquently put it last night.” Draco smirked at him, and Harry gave him a tentative smile in return. Draco nonchalantly slid his knee closer to Harry’s and looked at him until he finally met his eyes.

“And”, he began, ”I think that I’d like to give you a proper kiss, if that’s alright with you.”

Harry swallowed loudly but managed to say, “I’d like that very much.” Draco smiled and slowly raised his hand to stroke Harry’s cheek. He moved towards him painfully slow, and Harry closed

his eyes and exhaled, parting his lips in a slight ‘o’ shape. Draco closed the last few inches between them and pressed their lips together.

Draco’s lips were soft and warm as they moved slowly against his own. Harry slid a bit closer and placed one hand on Draco’s knee and the other at the nape of his neck, twisting his fingers in his hair and deepening their kiss. Draco slowly slid his tongue along Harry’s bottom lip and let out a soft moan. Harry, in a moment of blind confidence moved his hands to Draco’s thighs and pulled him onto his lap, never breaking their kiss. He felt Draco skim his teeth along Harry’s lip as Harry slid his hands underneath Draco’s shirt, resting on his hips and gently tracing circles on his bare skin. Draco moved his hands into Harry’s hair and tugged gently, making him gasp and accidentally breaking their lips’ embrace. Draco pressed their foreheads together, eyes still closed and trying to catch their breath. Harry opened his eyes and silently traced his fingers across Draco’s facial features like he had longed to do last night. Draco leaned into Harry’s palm, still straddling him with his hands tangled in Harry’s ebony hair.

Harry was the one to eventually break their silence. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Draco quirked up an eyebrow. “You mean why didn’t I tell you that I’m gay, or why didn’t I tell you that I’ve wanted to snog the hell out of you since I was fifteen? Either way, it’s not something that just easily comes up in conversation, Potter.” He rolled his eyes but stroked his thumb against Harry’s face.

“Well you could’ve told me either way. I-“, Harry stopped. “Wait. Did you say fifteen?”

Draco but his lip. “I was a prat, I know. But I didn’t know how else to cope with falling for my sworn enemy. Very un-Slytherin of me.” Draco shifted so he was now sitting next to Harry with his legs stretched out across his lap. He held Harry’s hand in both of his and gently stroked his long fingers. “How long have-“, Draco stumbled, “Er-, when did you, um, realize?”

Harry laughed quietly. “Well I’ve known I was gay since I was 17. But I only discovered my feelings for you-“, Harry put his hand under Draco’s chin and pulled his face up to look at him, “less than 24 hours ago.” Draco’s face was so comical he couldn’t help but laugh. “I knew I felt something for you; a tug in my stomach perhaps. But I only put a name to it yesterday. You know, drowning my sorrows and that whole bit.” Harry paused, watching Draco’s face, then continued, “And I think you are, by the way.”

Draco looked at him questioningly. “Are what?”

Harry smiled a crooked smile at him and replied, “You said you hoped whoever I was drinking about was worth it.” He pushed Draco’s hair out of his eyes like he had only yesterday at the fountain. “And I definitely think you are.”

Draco sighed. “Bloody Gryffindor’s. Ridiculous romantics, the lot of you.” But he beamed at him and pulled Harry in to kiss him again before saying, “Harry Potter, you have the most brilliant soul I have ever had the privilege of encountering.”

Harry grinned and pushed him down on his back into the sofa and moved to hover over him. “Now who’s the romantic?” Harry stared into those granite grey eyes and smiled before kissing him once again.

•••

If you made it this far, thank you so so much for reading my fic! Please feel free to reply or message me with what you thought, any comments of suggestions for my writing, etc.! <3

#Drarry #Draco Malfoy #drarry fic #Harry Potter #HP #Harry potter fic #slytherin #Draco x Harry #EWE #Draco fic #Draco fanfiction

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yungidreamer · 4 years

Text

Heart in the Sea

The third oneshot in my Kinktober fantasy series

Summary: A selkie will always feel the call of the sea, but can she choose between the sweet and big hearted Seungmin and her true home when their paths cross.

Word count: 5.6k

Content warnings: The longing and bitter sweetness of love that is split between two worlds. A story of love and understanding that lasts a lifetime.

Suggested music: In the Distance by Tony Anderson and When You Fall Christian Reindl and When You Love Someone by Day6

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.

The nearly full moon hung high in the sky, sparkling brightly off the surface of the calm sea. She came ashore in her familiar cove, scooting her torpedo-shaped body up the soft sand and through the surf until the tide only lapped at her as it reached it’s farthest distance up the beach. With a sigh she sloughed off her skin, transforming into the beautiful woman she could change into only these three days around the full moon.

Tucking her skin under her arm, she scurried up the soft sand of the beach to the hidden little cave she knew was there. She pushed aside the curtain of vines and tucked her skin inside at the same she pulled out the human clothes she kept there for when she returned. Changing into them, she made sure the little cave was hidden again before setting off down the beach to enjoy her time here on land.

Not far down the beach was a pier where humans tended to gather. They had built restaurants, stores, and even a dive shop over the last decade. She and the others didn’t mind it. It was actually sort of nice to have them around, especially since they mostly stayed around the area that surrounded their pier. Their area just to the north was a designated refuge for wildlife which meant they were mostly left alone but were still near enough to take a swim with people when the mood struck them. The divers could be fun and, honestly, it was hilarious to imagine how many pictures there were out there of her looking adorable with her big black eyes and pert whiskers, waving at another divers go-pro.

She walked down the beach until she could hear the hum of the people mixed with that slight buzz their electric lights gave off that none of them seemed to notice. No one took note of her as she walked through the sparse crowd, heading to the stairs that lead up to the raised pier. It had a beautiful view of her ocean and often there were couples there, standing together watching the beauty of her sea.

Her bare feet felt cold on the damp wooden planks. It was cold, but not yet cold enough to make her wear shoes. They were something she had never really gotten used to. Too constricting and they kept her from feeling the beach, the sea. In winter she bowed to necessity but for now, when it was just that little overlap in the year when summer blended into fall, she would not yet.

Taking a seat on a bench on one side, she quietly watched the people chatting and laughing together. A few older men stood, poles in hand, fishing as they leaned on the wooden rails. A couple passed by, fingers entwined as they spoke quietly together. People seem so happy when they are coupled together, she thought as she watched them. Pairing off wasn’t really something her people did but part of her wondered what it might be like. If there was another like her in her colony, one who could shed their skin and walk in both worlds, perhaps she would pursue such things but, alas, she was the only one.

“Are you waiting for someone?” A voice startled her from her reverie and she turned to find a tall young human male standing very near to her.

“No,” she replied, taking a moment to really look at him. His hair was a light brown, neatly cut to a feathery softness around his ears and neck. It was slightly messy, having been mussed by the winds that were always blowing along the shore. He had dark brown eyes she could only describe as kind as they sparkled in the low light. He was dressed in a white button up shirt with a pale blue sweater vest over it, and jeans of a similar shade. It reminded her of summer mornings, full of the promise of warmth but still cool and fresh as the morning mist began to fade away.

“Would you mind hanging out with me?” He asked, stepping forward but still not taking a seat yet. “I’m not here with anyone either.”

“If you’d like,” she shrugged but scooted closer to one side of the bench.

“So do you live somewhere near here?” He was fishing for something to talk about.

“Not too far,” she admitted.

“Is that why you’ve come out here so late?” He asked, looking out at the other people rather than at her as he spoke.

“I like this place,” she shrugged, giving a half smile. “It has a lovely view of the sea and it’s not too loud. Not too many people.”

“You like the sea then?” He nodded.

“It’s a part of me,” she spoke honestly, but guessed that the meaning probably escaped the boy beside her.

“I feel like that about music,” he confessed, his face breaking into a joyful grin. “Writing music and singing is just a part of me. I’m not sure who I would be without it.”

“It must be nice to have that kind of passion about something,” she said after a moment's pause. “What sort of music do you do?”

“I like ballads,” he explained shyly. “Love songs and acoustic things.”

“People seem to like things about love,” she remarked, looking at all of the couples around them.

“Love can be wonderful,” He laughed. “It can also hurt like hell, but when you find the one, it's all worth it, you know?”

“Not really,” she admitted, giving him a quizzical look. “I don’t really understand love very well.”

“Haven’t you ever listened to love songs?” He sounded surprised.

“No, not really,” she shrugged and turned her eyes back to the sea.

“Will you be here tomorrow?” He suddenly asked.

“Yes,” she nodded, she had another couple of days on the shore.

“Can I meet you here tomorrow after school?” His voice was filled with excitement and she couldn’t see the harm. She nodded and he seemed satisfied, standing up with a bright expression on his face. “I should go home, but I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon, then I can teach you about love.”

“Alright,” She gave him a nod and watched as he started to walk away.

“I’m Seungmin by the way,” He said before he got too far away. She only waved in response watching him go.

Seungmin spent the whole day thinking about seeing her again. He went to class with only half of his mind on his courses as he thought about the mysterious girl he saw at the beach. He had to admit to the possibility she wouldn’t be waiting for him, or that she wouldn’t care to hang out with him even if she was. It was possible, but something about her made it worth trying. When classes were done, he ran home, grabbed his portable keyboard and headed for the beach with a happy spring to his step.

He found her there, sitting on a rock towards one side of the beach that stretched out in front of the line of shops that surrounded the pier. She sat alone, her knees pulled up to her chest as she looked out at the water. There was something...separate about her. She didn’t seem to fit in with anyone else there and it didn’t seem to bother her that it was true. That aloof, mysterious exterior just made him want to know what there was underneath. He wanted the chance to plumb her depths and explore her inscrutable soul.

“Hi,” Seungmin said as he took a seat on the rock next to hers.

“Hello,” she looked at him with warm eyes. “I wondered if you would actually come today.”

“Of course,” he laughed, giving her a wide and joyful smile. “I have something I wanted to show you.” He pulled out his keyboard and balanced it on his lap. Laying her head on her knees, she watched him flip some switches and make some adjustments before clearing his throat and bringing forth the first few notes from the keyboard on his lap.

“It was a really hard day today. My heart aches for you, the only thing I can do for you, is to be next to you, I'm sorry.” His voice was sweet and melodic as he sang. It had a warmth and intensity that spoke to her soul. Yesterday he had said he loved music and she could hear it in his voice. He was good at it and equally skilled at drawing the notes from the mechanical thing in his lap.

“When you love someone so much that it overflows, it's so amazing because this is how it is. I hope I can be a little helpful at least. I hope I can be your resting place. I'll try to make you feel at peace whenever you think of me during your busy days.

“You're such a soft-hearted person, every time you are silently in pain, even if I have to give my all, I want to make you smile again…”

They sat together for an hour as he sang some of his favorite love songs; the sad ones and the happy ones, the longing ones and the silly ones. She was sure that he could feel them in his bones as he sang them for her, giving her just a little window on what love meant, at least to him. It seemed selfless, joyful, and sweet, though perhaps that was really just him.

“Thank you,” she said as he took the keyboard off his lap, slipping it back into the bag he had brought with him. “Your voice is beautiful. Sonorous and soulful. It reminds me of the whales.”

“I haven’t ever been compared to a whale,” he laughed. “But thank you.”

“I suppose it is what I think of when I think of beautiful music,” she shrugged, blushing slightly. “I meant it as a compliment at least.”

“Whales are amazing,” he agreed. “We learned about them in school. I’d like to see one in person someday.”

“They are very pretty,” she nodded.

“Have you seen one before?” He asked with excitement.

“A few,” she replied. “But there aren’t that many left.”

“Yeah, we hunted a lot of them nearly to extinction,” Seungmin sighed.

“Humans seem to like killing things,” she observed, thinking of what she knew about people hunting seals like her.

“Some do,” he admitted. “I’d rather take pictures of them than kill them. I think sometimes it’s harder to get a good photo of something than it is to hunt it.”

“At least everything involved gets a second chance at it when you shoot with a camera rather than with a gun.” She concurred with good humor. They whiled away the hours together on the beach until he had to go home for dinner.

“Will you be here tomorrow?” He asked as he got up to leave.

“Yes,” she nodded. “But then I’ll be gone for a while.”

“I’ll come back tomorrow then,” he promised.

And he did. When they parted that last day he asked when she would come back. Soon she promised, around the next full moon. So long, he wondered sadly to himself as he rode the bus home that evening, so long to have to wait to see her again.

During the month that he waited for her to return, he still went to the beach most days, just to check and to explore the shore nearby. He spent a few days just wandering up and down that section of beach that was near the pier and it’s shops. There were natural barriers to either side with rocky outcrops reaching into the ocean except at low tide. Really, the area was more a massive cove, it just happened to be so wide it wasn’t terribly noticeable.

Over the second week, he began to explore beyond the rocks. One side extended into a long rocky beach filled with rocks that had been washed to smooth roundness. As the water washed ashore, it rushed through the rocks making the most wonderful whooshing sound. It was so calming, so rhythmic. I wonder if I could write something that would capture that feeling, he thought as he sat on an outcropping a slight distance from where the water swept in against the shore.

The week after that he went the opposite direction. At low tide he set out, following along the rocky, narrow beach until he found himself in a small horseshoe shaped cove surrounded by high rock walls that were nearly vertical. The cove itself was small and sheltered from the wind. The sea lapped in against the soft sand beach with a quiet sloop sloop sloop.

Taking a seat on a dry part of the beach, Seungmin took out his keyboard to try and write a little something. He dabbled with little tunes, a smattering of notes he combined and tested out, trying to make it match the sound his soul was waiting for. He couldn’t stay terribly long or he risked getting stuck there when the tide came in so he packed up to head back. As he threw his bag over his shoulder, something caught his eye out in the water. A little head was bobbing out among the waves. A seal, he wondered, squinting to try and get a better look. Before he could, it disappeared into the waves.

When the moon rose on the night before the full moon, she came out of the water and slipped her skin. It was getting colder and soon she would have to wear shoes, but now she still stubbornly refused. At least not today. Putting something on, she stole along that long half flooded beach to go look for Seungmin. She was sure he would be here. After all, he had been somewhere along her beach, near the pier, or on the rocky shore almost every day since they had first met. It wasn’t that she had gone to search for him, she assured herself. It was that she happened to see him that first day, then she wondered if he had come back, and eventually it just became a habit to look for him, to see if he had come again. Most days he played music. Sometimes it seemed to be something he knew, a whole song he had long since memorized, but often he seemed to be trying to find something in the notes, trying to invent something new. She liked those times. The sounds, while not perfect and not always sweet and melodic, held a creativity and expressiveness that captured her.

“Seungmin!” She said in surprise as she emerged from around the last outcrop to find him already there, waiting on a blanket on the beach.

“Hello,” he smiled at her, standing up and coming to the edge of his blanket. “I had a feeling you might come from over here.”

“How…” her eyes widened and a fear and suspicion trickled into her heart.

“Just a hunch,” he rushed to assure her. “Come here, I have a surprise for you. Do you want something to eat?” He extended a hand to her, inviting her to sit with him on the blanket. She took his hand, gingerly stepping onto the blanket with her damp feet. Seungmin reached into his basket and pulled out a hand towel he offered her to dry them off. Accepting it, she took a seat, drying her calves and feet which helped them to warm faster. She was grateful and offered him a thanks as she passed it back to him. When he took it back he handed her something else.

“What are these?” She asked, holding up the ball of knitted fabric he seemed to have handed her.

“Socks,” he replied. “Here, let me help.” Taking them back, he unfolded them, rolling one up in his hand before lifting one of her feet and slipping it on her up to her knee. He did the same with her other foot before setting it down with a shy smile.

“They are very warm, thank you,” she said gratefully. Seungmin nodded and turned back to the basket, pulling out a small packet of something and handing it to her.

“It’s a tuna sandwich,” he explained. “I thought you might like it.”

“Thank you,” she peeked inside the parchment paper bag to see the sandwich and the scent of fish wafted out to her. It smelled delicious. Usually she just fasted for the days she was with people. It wasn’t that long and had never really been a problem for her, but she had to admit, it wasn’t something she looked forward to. They ate in silence, both just sitting and looking at the sea, watching as the light faded into night. The night was still as the moon rose and the sun set opposite one another.

“Would you play something for me?” She finally asked.

“I’d love to,” he smiled at her. Pulling out his keyboard, he put it on his lap and turned it on. She stretched out on the blanket and closed her eyes, just wanting to listen to him play, to hear that joyful sound mix with the waves and wind of her home. She recognized small portions of the notes he played from the times he had come and played on those more isolated areas of the beach.

“Do you like it?” He asked when he stopped.

“Yes,” she nodded. “I like your music.”

“Thank you,” He let out a joyful laugh. “I wrote it for you.”

“Why?” She looked at him with questioning eyes.

“I like you,” he admitted shyly. “I wanted to have something to give you. Something you could take with you… even when you aren’t…” he let his voice trail off. There was a good chance he was wrong, that he had let his imagination run wild and had spent too many hours listening to the stories his grandmother liked to tell him.

“You know what I am, don’t you.” She said for him. “Are you going to trap me? Steal my skin.”

“I wouldn’t,” he said with absolute seriousness. “I could never do that; I couldn’t steal your life from you like that.”

“Why not?” She was curious, not that she wished he would but what she knew of humans, she would have guessed that most would have without much thought.

“Because love that comes from a selfish place only brings pain to everyone,” he replied. “I’d rather have just a little time with you that is happy than have you always but filled with sadness.”

“You are very special,” she told him, moving to sit beside him.

“No,” he denied, taking one of her hands in his. “I’m nothing special. Perhaps I just know how lucky I am.” He spread her fingers, gently weaving his in between and looking at how the skin between them went just a little higher than a regular human’s did. He sat with her on the beach as late as he could, heading home only after getting a call from his parents wondering where in the world he was. Packing up his keyboard and his basket, he put his shoes on and started to head up the beach to go home.

“Wait, aren’t you going to take the blanket?” She asked, standing beside it in her socks.

“You can keep it for this visit,” he said as he continued to move away. “I’ll take it back when you go.”

“Thank you,” she said loudly enough to make sure he heard her.

“See you tomorrow,” he waved one last time before he walked out of view. She sat down again, turning her gaze to the water to wait the hours until he would return.

One Year Later

“I have something I have to tell you,” Seungmin told her on the last night of her change.

“What is it?” She said, leaning her head on his shoulder as they ate and watched the sea.

“I’m going to be gone for a while,” he confessed. “I’m going to university in another place. I’ll come back when I can, but…”

“I understand,” she told him. “I knew you couldn’t always be here. I couldn’t ask you to give up your life any more than you could steal my skin.”

“Part of me wishes you would,” he admitted, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and burying his face in her hair that smelled like home to him now.

“You’re still here,” she said, bringing both their hands to sit over her heart. “Even when you aren’t here.”

Over the four years he studied, Seungmin came back as often as he could. When he could stay over the period of the full moon, he camped out in their little cove, bringing a tent they could both stay in together, enjoying the fleeting moments they could steal between them. If he was home when it was time for her to live as a seal, he would come and play for her. Sometimes she would come, wriggling her torpedo like body up onto the shore to nap beside him as he played, and others she would just bob in the shallows, playing in the water as she listened.

When he graduated, he came back home, working jobs to make ends meet as he also worked on his music and composing. In only a few years, he was able to make ends meet with his composing alone. His ability to make music that could pull at your heartstrings or make your heart soar brought money, if not renown to him. It was all he could have asked for.

When he had saved enough he bought a patch of land among the dunes a little down the beach from their cove and built a simple cottage. It was not large but had enough space for him to live in more than comfort, with a room he could compose in and a porch he could sit out and look at the sea anytime he wished. Now when she came ashore, she had a home to come to, a place that was warm year round and that was safe for her to keep her skin. She never needed shoes and never needed to worry that some adventurous soul would happen across it or that someone would steal it and trap her.

Many Years later

“Seungmin,” she said softly as they lay together under the covers. “I don’t think I can go back tomorrow.”

“Why?” He turned on his side to look at her with concern. She had never, in all the years he had known her, not gone back to the sea. “Is something wrong?”

“I wouldn’t say wrong,” she hedged slightly before taking his hand and placed it on her stomach. “I think it’s going to be like you so it would be best if I stayed like this until it comes.”

“A baby?” He breathed, wonder sparkling in his eyes. “How long?”

“I think as long as it takes people to have a baby,” she replied. “So probably half a year or a little more. I know I haven’t stayed that long before and perhaps it would be safe for me to go back, at least for a little while longer…”

“No,” he interjected quickly. “Stay, please. This is your home always, no matter how long and no matter your form, you can always stay here.”

“Thank you,” she smiled up at him. “Are you happy?”

“Ecstatic,” he asserted. “I can’t wait to meet our baby.”

“If it is like you,” she said timidly. “Can you care for it while I am gone?”

“Of course,” he couldn’t help but sound a little offended that she would even ask. “It is my child. I will love it and provide it with anything it needs.”

“I wasn’t even sure if you wanted children,” she pointed out. “We never spoke on the subject and I didn’t know if you would welcome one at all or not.”

“To have a small piece of you always here with me,” he smiled and brushed his thumb over her cheek. “I can’t say how happy it will make me.”

“I’m so happy to know that you want it as much as I do,” she spoke softly, cuddling up to him to go to sleep.

“I love you both,” he replied, pulling her into his arms.

“I can’t stay,” she whispered to the small child in the crib. “But I have never left so much of myself behind before.”

“We’ll be here when you come back,” Seungmin promised, wiping away the warm tear that rolled down her cheek. She stood and hugged him before going to where she kept her skin, stripping her human clothes before walking down to the beach to slip back into her skin and dive beneath the surf.

“Mama!” The little voice shouted from the porch as she saw the seal pop up from the softly lapping tide. “Daddy, mom is home!”

“Let’s go see her,” Seungmin scooped his daughter into his arms and carried her down the path to the beach. She was already on shore by the time they had wound their way through the dunes and sea grass. Her skin sloughed off and draped over one arm, she walked up over the soft sand to them. He greeted her with a kiss, trading their daughter for her skin before the three headed back up the path to their home.

“Sarah, what have you been up to while I’ve been gone?” She asked the little girl.

“I started school!” The little girl shouted.

“That’s wonderful,” she said with a smile.

“Why don’t you go get some of your work to show her?” Seungmin suggested.

“Okay!” The little girl ran upstairs excitedly.

“Welcome home,” He said, giving her a kiss.

“I’m so happy to see you,” she smiled up at him. “I have a surprise.” Placing his hand on her stomach, she smiled up at him.

“Another one?” Seungmin said excitedly. “Does that mean you’ll stay for a while again?”

“Not this time,” Her smile turned slightly sad, but did not disappear.

“Then let’s enjoy the time we have now, while we can.” He pulled her into a hug.

“Look mama!” Her daughter bounded down the stairs, papers gripped in her arms.

“Let me put something on, then you can show me everything,” She kissed her head before heading to where her clothes were already laid out.

During the long months she could not slip her skin, she stayed near her home, near her beach as much as she could. Seungmin spent many hours watching her swim in the waves or sitting with her as she sunned herself on the shore as their daughter played around them. Then, one day, she was not there alone. She was there with a small, white, fluffy pup.

“He’s beautiful, love,” he told her proudly when he joined her that morning. She fanned out her whiskers proudly, squinting up at him in her best seal smile.

Still more months passed before their second child was old enough to shift with her and they could both finally come home with Seungmin and her patiently waiting daughter. When the two of them stepped out onto the shore, he was struck by how old his son already looked. Rather than the months old infant he had expected to meet, he looked more like a toddler as he cuddled against his mother, holding her neck as she held him.

“Deacon, Mama!” Sarah shouted, running down to the beach to greet them. “Welcome home!”

“You look so grown up, my love,” she said, kissing her daughter's forehead.

“I’m in middle school now,” Her daughter beamed at her. “It started last week. School starts earlier now, but I’ll still try to wave good-bye every morning, just in case you can see me in the dark.”

“I can see quite well in the dark,” she assured her. “I will try to be here earlier so that I can see you go.”

“Do you want to see what I am learning?” Her daughter took her mother’s skin and passed her the robe she had brought before doing the same for her younger brother.

“We would love to see what you are learning now,” Her mother nodded.

“What is school like?” Deacon asked, taking his sister’s hand as they walked back up to the cottage.

“It can be fun, but it can also be really boring,” Sarah explained after giving it some thought. “You could always go to school, too.”

“Would I have to stay on land to do that?” Her brother asked.

“Yeah, but it isn’t so bad living up here,” she gave him a good natured laugh.

“I know it's not bad,” Deacon nodded. “But it isn’t really where I belong. I wish I could bring you with me to swim with us and see all there is out in the ocean.”

“Maybe I can learn how to dive and come visit one day,” his sister suggested as they stepped inside.

“If you do, I’ll help you swim,” he promised. “People don’t swim that well, even with the fins and stuff. But I can help.”

“Sarah, can I ask you to help him with something?” Her mother asked, coming back after putting her clothes on.

“What can I do?” Excitement filled her voice.

“Can you see if you can teach him to read a little while we are here?” She suggested. “Just for a little while each time we come. What do you think?”

“Sure! Come on Deacon, let me show you,” the two children rushed upstairs hand in hand.

“Did you really want him to learn, or were you hoping to get a little time with me?” Seungmin chuckled as he stepped out of the kitchen to greet her.

“Perhaps a little bit of both,” she admitted, giving him a happy kiss.

“He’s growing so fast,” Seungmin sighed, casting a glance at where they had disappeared. “I feel like I am missing so much of his life.”

“I know,” she commiserated. “I feel the same about our wonderful girl. But you have done so well raising her.”

“We have,” he agreed pointedly. “We have wonderful children.”

“Sarah Kim, Masters in Marine Biology,” the president announced, signaling it was her moment to step on the stage. Dressed in her graduation cap and gown, she stepped up, shaking the hand of the department heads, professors, and administrators as she made her way to accept her degree. It was perhaps predictable that she would follow this path, having always wanted to be a little closer to her mother’s world that seemed so close yet just out of reach. She wanted to understand it, she wanted to be a part of it, and most of all she wanted to protect it. After all, it was a part of her, too.

In the audience, her mother watched, seated beside her father, having stayed human this time, not wanting to miss this moment. Her brother had gone back to the sea, still far more comfortable there than on land and certainly uncomfortable with such large crowds. Sarah understood, she knew he would be there on the beach when she came back home, giving her a greeting before disappearing back under the waves. She knew he was proud. He had helped her learn and see so much on their dives together. They had both learned to walk in each other’s worlds.

After decades she came back from the sea a final time. She was growing old and, though the sea would always be a part of her, with her end near, she wanted to be with her loved ones. It was time to say goodbye and she could not imagine just never returning; leaving them wondering what had become of her one day when she just disappeared.

“I think I have finally come to stay, my love,” she told Seungmin as she took a seat beside him on the porch of their cottage on the beach.

“No more returning to the sea?” He asked quietly, putting an arm around her. “What about our son? Will he be alright out there, the only one of his kind?”

“He’s an adult and he will find his own path and his own family of his making,” she said with a proud confidence. “It’s not goodbye, just… time to let him go his own way.”

“Would you like me to play you your song?” He asked after a long silence.

“My song?” she asked, giving him a smile.

“You heard the part of it back on the beach the first time you came back to me,” he informed her. “I’ve been working on it ever since. It’s still not done, maybe it never will be, but would you like to hear it anyways?”

“Yes,” she said as she stood, ready to go to the music room where his piano sat, like his small ocean. It was an inseparable part of him, a little bit of his soul.

She stayed that final year in that cottage with the people she loved and still so near to the sea that would always hold a part of her, something even larger when her son was in it’s depths. When her time came, she could say she went without regrets and with her love by her side. Seungmin spread her ashes on their beach and in the sea so she would always be a part of both. He followed her only months after, at peace with his life and what he left behind. The cottage became the home of his daughter and a place where their son could always return to and always call home. His ashes joined hers, on their beach and in their sea, finally uniting them in a single place they could both always be.

Masterlist

#stray klds imagines #stray kids scenarios #kim seungmin #seungmin #seungmin imagines #seungmin scenarios #stray kids #kinktober #stray kids angst #selkie #fairy tales #stray kids smut #stray kids fluff

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exhaustedfander · 4 years

Text

Drown Me If You Must

A word of warning: This one’s incredibly sad. There is major angst in this one, and the ending can be viewed as suicide, though it’s up for interpreation.

This oneshot is a rewrite of an original short story I wrote a while back. Originally, the married couple are lesbians and the ocean is personified as a man, but sense it’s moceit, that gets flipped around the ocean’s personified as a woman. This is sad, but I’d love to hear what you think.

Word Count: 1,916

a03 link

He stared out an open window, the setting sun casting a warm glow over the sea. He watched the water, the foamy waves lapping at the ankles of the last beachgoers of the day as seagulls scoured the beach for crumbs. It was a pleasant, picturesque view, one that most people would tend to enjoy.

Janus didn’t.

Years ago, the sea took something from him. Something irreplaceable. No, she didn’t take him, people told Janus. It was an accident. A tragedy that could’ve happened to anyone. But Janus knew better. The ocean, for whatever reason, had a burning desire to take away the man that he loved more than anything else in the world, carrying out irreversible cruelty.

Maybe, Janus thought to himself sometimes when he was alone and the house was too quiet, the sea saw how wonderful Patton was and selfishly wanted him for herself. Or maybe he was always hers. Janus had watched the capture, had seen from this very window the beast that she truly was open her gaping maw and swallow his lover whole.

Janus had warned Patton about a million times not to go out that night.

“It’s dangerous,” he’d cautioned nervously, “What if something was to happen? There wouldn’t be anyone to help you.” Janus was by no means a nervous person, but for Patton’s safety, he was always cautious.

“I’ll be extra careful,” Patton promised, “I always am.”

“Be that as it may,” Janus said, eternally weak to the gleam in his husband’s eyes, “I don’t think it’s a good idea. You could get hurt. It’s risky…” Patton grinned, wrapping his arms around Janus and pressed his lips to Janus’s ear in a caressing whisper.

“I live for danger.”

This was a blatant lie, so much so, Janus couldn’t stop himself from laughing. Patton was by no means a daredevil. He didn’t enjoy the more dangerous activities life had to offer, instead enjoying tending to potted plants and baking an array of pastel frosted pastries. He worked as a kindergarten teacher who volunteered at the local Animal Shelter on the weekends. He apologized when he bumped into objects and insisted on petting every cat near to him, despite his allergy. Patton was about the least risk-seeking person Janus knew.

But he loved night swimming. Patton adored the ocean and everything about it, swimming in the evening a “wonderfully calming experience,” as he once explained it, but Janus couldn’t understand it. Why was Patton so compelled to put himself in such a situation, at the mercy of the current? What was calm relaxation for Patton petrified his husband.

Janus was terrified of the water and had been since he was young. Swimming in general, especially in the ocean, frightened him so much so that he struggled to stomach the thought of so much as attempting. It’s ironic to think that he moved to a house right by the sea, but he’d done it for Patton.

His husband made him deliriously happy, he had since the day they met. Janus was not a glass half full kind of person. He liked to think he looked at things as rationally as possible, always keen to look out for himself. He’d grown up in a family where it was every man for himself, being provided very little in the ways of affection. Janus had to be tough and watch his own back because as far as he was concerned, no one else was going to do so.

And then he’d met Patton. Bubbly, pun-loving, affectionate Patton, and all semblance of what he was convinced he was destined to be shattered into a million pieces. Janus didn’t think it was possible for him to fall for someone, to give into such intense, emotional feelings. It was dangerous to let his guard down, even a little bit, and yet Patton saw through his hardened exterior with ease. He saw the person Janus was inside, the person he hadn’t been allowed to be for so long, and for the first time in his life, Janus felt nothing but love.

So he moved there for him, so Patton could always be close to the sea.

“Oh you certainly live for danger,” Janus said sarcastically, finding it impossible to smother his smile, despite his nerves. “Do you promise you’ll be cautious?”

“Absealutely,” Patton said with a grin, earning a half-hearted groan from his husband, “I promise, Janny.”

“Okay,” Janus said with a sigh, trusting that things would work out, just as they always had. What a mistake that had been.

Of course, Janus had run down the beach, barefoot and screaming the name of the man who had stolen his heart as he watched him disappear under the waves. Of course, he had screamed for help, for someone, anyone who could rescue his husband. And of course, it was far too late. Patton was already gone, the sea stealing him away.

Maybe it was ignorant to continue living in that house, watching the very thing that had taken his love away day in and day out, but Janus couldn’t leave. He was bound to this place, no matter how sick with grief it made him. “What if Patton comes back? He won’t know where to find me.” The belief that somehow, in some form, Patton would be back with him someday had remained in his mind every day since the capture.

It had been five long years since that night. Janus cut ties with the few other people he’d been close with, unequipped to deal with their false sympathy any longer. Even Remus, someone who Janus had considered his closest friend had given up after a few years. Janus didn’t make any effort to maintain the relationship; what was the point?

Loneliness commanded his fragile heart most days, leaving Janus in an ever-present state of mourning. The house, after all this time, had remained relatively the same. Every photograph that was hung up was still there, all of Patton’s things still neat on the shelves. Janus hadn’t bothered to change any of the furniture around, either. The only thing that was strikingly different from that house that was once a home was the absence of Patton.

The breaking point came on a particularly cold, lonesome night. Janus hadn’t slept well in years; being awake late was nothing new. He tossed and turned sleeplessly, desperate for the rest he’d sought for out for too long.

It occurred to her suddenly, realization washing over him like the unrelenting crashing of waves. It didn’t matter how long time stretched on or how desperate he was to wipe Patton from his memory. The gaping hole in his chest where a heart once beat would remain empty without his husband by his side.

The epiphany set him into motion.

He rose slowly from the bed, pushing the blankets off and standing up uneasily. The wood floor groaned beneath his feet as he walked out of his bedroom, the house so dark he could barely see. He didn’t bother to turn on a light.

Janus wandered through the house, head thick with fog, and stopped just short of walking out the front door. Janus hesitated for the briefest moment, his hand grazing the door handle before he took a deep sure, deep breath and opened it, stepping out into the night.

The sand was cool under Janus’s bare feet, ivory moonbeams illuminating the waves. The smell of sea salt hung in his nostrils and suddenly, he’s back to that night, Patton’s echoed screams replaying again and again. Panic buzzed through Janus’s body, all instincts telling him to go back inside, crawl under the covers and pretend tomorrow would be better. He let a sigh roll past his lips, toes curling in the sand as he stared determinedly at the rolling waves.

No. He couldn’t turn back. Not now.

He plodded slowly down the beach until freezing foamy water was grazing over his feet. Janus felt his fear crippling him, weighing him down like a stone tossed into the water but he stood tall regardless, rebelling against the sinking feeling. He’d do this for his husband.

Janus stood still for a moment, feet soaking in the biting water before shouting in the loudest, most accusing voice he can muster: “You!”

The waves, as if paused by some god above, ceased their crashing the water stilled. All was quiet.

“You took something from me. Something irreplaceable!” He shouted despite the fear bubbling in the pit of his stomach and the shivers that racked his body. It didn’t matter that Janus was as terrified as he had been that night. He’d get his husband back one way or another, in this world or the next.

Janus swallowed down whatever remaining hesitations and continued, his voice quavering with grief.

“And now I want him back. I’m not afraid of you, not anymore.” Janus had always had a talent for deception. It wasn’t something he used against his husband, and he was calculated with his implementing of falsehoods, but it was a tool he found to be useful. The same was no less true now; terror coursing through his veins. Even so, he relieved the sentiment with such courage even the likes of the sea herself might believe him. Still, the water remained unmoved.

“I don’t care what you do to me.” Tears tumbled down Janus’s cheeks and there was a deep, haunting sorrow to the way he spoke, “You can kill me if you’d like. No one will believe it, regardless. It’ll be another ‘tragic accident’.” Janus slumped to his knees, teardrops dripping into the water as granules of sand stuck to his skin. This is how it was meant to go; Janus knew that now. “Drown me, if you must. I just want to see him again. I just want my husband back.”

The haunting quiet that had drifted through the last several minutes shattered as the tide was quickly sucked in from under Janus, sweeping him deeper into the water. Janus didn’t struggle, didn’t fight it, instead going limp.

He allowed the current to carry him far enough to a point he was no longer able to stand, beginning to flounder as the waves crest not far off. The sound was more peaceful than anything he’d ever heard and the impending sense of dread he’d expected never came. A final exasperated smile graced his face as a wave of considerable size and power swept him under, showing no mercy as she drove him down and Janus’s lungs filled with water.

The moon illuminated the otherwise black sea that Janus descended into. Years ago, a death such as this was Janus’s greatest fear, but now all it brought on was calm and peace. Finally, peace. Janus closed his eyes, letting go as he thought of finally seeing Patton again, a vision of his smile warming Janus’s frozen body as everything faded to black.

Maybe he was the one who the sea had claimed, the one destined to be taken, not Patton. Maybe it was both of them, two prisoners for the price of one. Or perhaps Janus was just a man so sick with the loss of his husband that he did what was necessary to finally see him again. Regardless, Janus found the peace he was searching for, a beauty that far outshined a sunset out an open window that captured a scene he was too tormented by to live with any longer.

=+=

Taglist:

@nadiestar, @unoriginalgayboyalex, @maryann-draws, @bella-in-a-bag, @igonnatalknothing, @elizabutgayer, @wishthefish916

Let me know if you wanna be added to my general taglist! I’d be happy to add folks.

#moceit #romantic moceit #human au #sanders sides #angst #heavy angst #major character death #fairly unhappy ending #can be looked at as a sooorta happier ending depending on how you look at it #I'm sorry y'all this one's sad #I feel like I'm committing a sin of some kind writing angst of these two #considering how much I love them #but whatcha gonna do #there's a liiitle bit of fluff tho #tiny bit #exhaustedfander writes #exhaustedfander

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captainsolare · 4 years

Text

The Puking Knight and her Hero - A Finral Roulacase One-Shot

A/N: This is a very self-indulgent x reader oneshot. Word Count: 1,235

You gulped and took a deep breath as you looked at the broom in your hands. “Alright, Y/N. You’ve got this.” You muttered, sighing as you remembered the day of the Magic Knights Entrance Exam. Broom riding had been your nemesis ever since then when you had discovered that you got motion sick. That day even though you passed the entrance exam even as an older candidate and had shown off impressively, you had earned yourself the reputation as The Puking Knight of The Black Bulls.

Even though it had been months since then people still joked about it. Frustrated, you had tried and tried to get over your motion sickness but it never seemed to work. But today you had errands you desperately needed to run and you’d be damned if you wasted a whole day walking to your destination one more time.

Which led you to now, you sat on the broom and let your magic power flow into the broom. “So far so good.” You said aloud, but after you made it more than a few feet off the ground you felt that familiar churning in your stomach. On impulse you brought both of your hands up to your mouth to try to keep everything in, causing you to fall off your broom, hard. Feeling defeated, you closed your eyes for a moment.

Just then, Finral was rounding the corner of the building. “You okay?” a voice asked, surprising you with a tap on your shoulder. You let out a surprised shriek and opened your eyes. “Oh it’s just you,” You sighed in relief. “Haha yeah, just little old me,”Finral chuckled, “You doing okay?” he asked, reaching his hand down as an offer to help you up. You took his hand and gave him a grimace. “Honestly, not really. This whole motion sickness thing is really putting a damper on my plans.” You replied with a sigh.

“Yeah understandable.” Finral replied. After an awkward pause, he opened his mouth again. “Well--” “So--” You said at the same time. You gestured for him to speak. “Well, you mentioned plans. Were you headed somewhere?” He asked. “Oh, crap, yeah,” You stammered, suddenly remembering your important errands,“I needed to go to the castle town market today. I have to pick some things up for a project I’m working on. I was going to try to ride a broom there but.. You saw how well that worked out.”

“Well, you’re lucky I’m here. I can take you!” Finral exclaimed. “Really? I don’t want to be a burden if you had other plans today.” “Nonsense! Actually, I needed to head to the market today too so it’s not a problem at all.” Finral lied, giving you his signature smile. You tilted your head, considering for a moment. “Well… If it’s really not a problem, I’d like that, you’re seriously my hero for this!” You smiled back.

It took all of Finral’s willpower not to pump his fist in the air, getting to spend the day with his crush? AND being called a hero for it? Even if he did have other things to do today, how could he miss this opportunity? He’d seen the way Zora had been looking at you recently, and it ticked him off. At least this time, your motion sickness worked in his favor; Zora likely couldn’t take you somewhere quickly without using a broom or other magical vehicle. Hah! Take that Zora! He thought.

You were an amazing knight even though you hadn’t been with the squad long; You were strong-willed and stubborn, and you could make anyone laugh. And your smile, he’d take you anywhere in the world if it meant he’d get to see that smile, and if you were alone, he’d be the only one that would get to see it.

“Uhh… Finral? Are you ready to go?” You asked, poking his arm. He snapped out of his thoughts and back into the real world. “Yeah! Let’s get going.”

Finral made a portal, and in no time you were in the castle town right near the market. “You’re so amazing Finral! I don’t feel sick at all.” You marveled. “Aww thanks.” He blushed, rubbing the back of his head nervously.

“So where to first?” he asked. “Uhh, I need to go to the fabric shop. And then to get some herbs that I heard help with motion sickness. And then I was planning on just doing some window shopping. But, don’t you have errands you need to run as well?” “Yeah, but I thought we could go together if that’s okay. I just need to pick up something for the captain.” “Oh okay,” You replied, “That’s fine with me. You can hold the fabric.”

You spent the day window shopping, but Finral wasn’t paying much attention to what you were pointing out. Instead he was staring at you, and thinking about how cute you looked when you were excited, and when you were admiring things. He adored the way your eyes lit up when you were talking about things you were passionate about, and he hoped maybe just a little, that someday he’d be one of those things.

By the time you were done shopping, it was late afternoon. “I can see why you didn’t want to just walk to town today.” Finral remarked, behind the myriad of items in his arms. “Yeah, sorry about all the stuff. I can carry some if you want.” You said guiltily as you walked along. “Nope, don’t worry about it!” He replied. “What did you need to grab for the captain again?” Remembering his errand he had said he needed to go on. “Huh? Oh that. Actually…” He turned and gave you a nervous smile. “I lied about that, I actually didn’t need to do anything, I just… wanted to spend some time with you today.”

You stopped, and thought about the implications of what he said. Finral stopped and looked at you, nervous that he was about to get rejected. You thought for a moment more, then made a decision. “Well, since we’re done with errands… Do you want to grab dinner before we go back?” “Absolutely!”

You spent dinner talking and laughing, and you ended up staying until the restaurant closed. Finral made a portal so you would end up right outside the hideout. He made another portal and put your items in it so that they’d end up right outside Vanessa’s door, hers was the only room on the girl’s side that he’d been to and you both knew she wouldn’t be back up there for hours so your stuff was safe.

Finral walked you to the girl’s side of the hideout, not wanting to leave you just yet.“Y’know, I had a nice time today Finral.” You said, grabbing his hand and squeezing it briefly. “I did too.” He replied with a smile as you began to walk inside. “You know, if you stay by my side you never have to take a broom again.” He called after you. You turned and flashed him the smile he had been craving all day. “You know, I just might. Goodnight Portal Boy.” You said with a laugh as you walked down the hallway to gather your things. “Goodnight, Y/N.” Finral whispered, and he went to his room, where he could give a proper squeal into his pillow about the day’s events.

#finral roulacase #finral x reader #fluff #finral fluff #f!reader #black clover fluff #aurora borealis

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betterbe-ravenclaw · 4 years

Text

Pillow thoughts

I wrote this little oneshot a while ago, and it's been sat in my notes for a while. I'm aware it's the first piece of original writing I've posted and definitely isn't the first thing that happens in Naomi and Murphy's relationship, but I've decided to put it out here all the same. Hope you enjoy.

In which Murphy starts to think about the future whilst Naomi sleeps.

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Murphy gave a silent yawn, turning his head to check the bedside clock as the first rays of dawn broke through the curtains. 5:46am. A single bird pirched on the oak tree outside his window chirped it's good morning's whilst the distant sound of Mr. McVey's lawnmower provided a steady humming to the tune. Peaceful mornings such as this were not uncommon, Murphy basking in both the glory of a world where only few are woken from their slumbers, and the radiance of Naomi Kinnley's messily tousled bed-hair. He had become rather glad of the fact his girlfriend was not an early riser, as this only gifted him more time to simply soak in her presence and try to convince himself that maybe he could be worthy of her after all.

Murphy smiled softly to himself as Naomi's body shifted. Layed on her side, Naomi's shoulders hunched slightly and another strand of hair fell loosely over her face as her hand slid further over his chest, coming to rest in the centre. He placed one of his own, significantly larger hands over her balled fist as she nuzzled her face deeper between his shoulder and the pillow. Of all the people she could have chosen to be with, Naomi had stuck with him, and he couldn't be happier or prouder to be hers.

He hoped, for lack of a better term, that this dream-like reality he was living in would continue far into the future. They'd managed with relative ease to make it through just under two years now, even through the rougher times. Murphy was eternally grateful that Orion and Skye had pushed him to make the first move, and even more so that the sleeping angel beside him had put up with him all this time whilst forever battling her own demons.

The problem was; the year to come was bound to be the biggest test of their relationship so far. At the summer's end, Naomi would be returning to Hogwarts. A regular practice, sure, and Naomi would be leaving for the beginning of her final year there - hard enough in itself, though what Murphy was thinking of when he realised the next year may be difficult was the fact that he would not be returning with her.

A small sigh escaped Naomi's lips as she curled her legs up further beneath the sheets. Murphy ran a hand through his hair and smiled. He was going to miss those lips. Those lips and the girl they belonged to. It pained him to so much as think about the fact that he would no longer get to see her smile light up a room or feel her presence warming their surroundings at any given moment. In three days, he'd be resigned to seeing her face barely once a fortnight. How he would cope, well, he hadn't really figured that out yet - though if one thing was for certain, Murphy knew that whatever happened in the coming year, would be worth it once she came home to him. After this, they'd never be apart. Well, ideally anyway. In Murphy's detailedly imagined future, they wouldn't have to leave each other again.

And so his mind wandered to the story he'd played over and over in his head. First thing in the morning, last thing at night, whenever he felt himself slipping into boredom or stress - the tale would surface and surround him with calm. Though he had only the vaguest clues of what Naomi dreamed for them in the future, Murphy had known what he wanted for the longest of time.

A house. Near his mother, at the village's edge with a tree in the back garden and a view of the sea. They'd have a beautiful room at the top of the house with a balcony and a wall of glass doors for sunrise heart-to-hearts. They'd have cushy leather sofas for sitting around the fireplace on a chilly autumn night and a great big kitchen where Naomi could practice her hobby of cooking and baking that she'd picked up from his mum. They would spend every morning drinking coffee or tea and watch many a sunrise in sweet-talking peace until a small voice from the doorway called out "mummy" and "daddy", marking the start of the day and breakfast time.

The rest of his plan varied from day to day - as life itself would. Sometimes, Murphy imagined a lazy Saturday, when he could play a game of wizards chess against his son or daughter (purposefully going easy on them and giving them pointers so that someday they might just beat him off their own accord) whilst Naomi baked or read or drew or did whatever Naomi wanted to do. Other times he'd think of the busiest day, when the kids would be dragged out of bed at the crack of dawn just to make it on time to watch a quidditch match for which he was providing the commentary. Each imagined situation was special and almost felt real to him - as though they were memories rather than daydreams - and though he knew nothing was certain and perhaps none of these things were meant to be, Murphy could not help but let his mind wander to what he hoped to be the future for him and Naomi.

For what is was worth, Murphy had known for a long time now that whatever really happened in the future, whatever finally came to be, he was not going to spend any more time than he had to away from Naomi Kinnley. He'd only ever been with her - and though he was still only just 18 years old, he had no intention of ever being with anyone else or seperating from her. He wasn't sure he'd quite be able to cope with that - without her to wake up next to.

As if on cue, Naomi puffed out a long breath and pulled away from him, stretching both arms out before letting them fall clumsily back to the bed. She groaned and bought a hand to rub the sleep from her eyes, then pulled her hair from her face and nestled back into Murphy's side.

"Morning love." he murmured softly. Murphy pulled his own arm from his side, wrapped it around her freckled shoulders and placed a kiss on the bridge of her even more heavily freckle smattered nose. She squeezed her eyes further shut and yanked the duvet tighter around her.

"Don't talk to me Murphy I'm sleeping." Her voice was hoarse after the night, and she spoke in hushed tones as if someone else was nearby to hear. Murphy laughed silently and pecked Naomi's forehead before turning to check the bedside clock again. 6:32 am.

Murphy heard the kettle whistle from downstairs. His mother was up. Maybe when he and Naomi had their own place, he'd bring her a coffee in bed every morning to help wake her up.

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So there we have it! It's not incredibly long or complicated or beautiful or well written but it's mine, and I'm just happy I stuck it out and finished writing it. I imagine Murphy to be a very early riser for some reason, and since Naomi is certainly not a natural morning person, I started thinking about what McNully would be thinking. Like I said, I hope you enjoyed it and if you made it this far, thanks for taking the time to read this!

#naomi kinnley #murphy mcnully #murphy mcnully x mc #hphm #my writing

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shinidamachu · 4 years

Text

Neighbor Crush (The Thread)

Summary: modern AU, anyone? This was heavily inspired by a twitter thread I read a while ago, about a guy who developed a major crush on his neighbor’s voice and, with his roommate’s help, managed to ask him out.

Word Count: 2.015 Genre: fluff Fandom: InuYasha Pairing: Inukag Format: oneshot AO3 Link: 🌹 Fanfic.Net Link: 🌹

“I’m home!”

The abrupt sound of Miroku throwing his keys and briefcase at the table made InuYasha jump on his sit. It was a rare thing to do, taking him by surprise that way.

Unfortunately, Miroku knew so.

“You’re eavesdropping her again, aren’t you?”

It was hard to say what pissed InuYasha off the most: that Miroku had startled him, that he got caught in the act or the infuriating smugness in the bastard’s tone.

“Mind ya business.”

Ignoring his temper, Miroku went to their refrigerator and returned with a loosened tie and a couple of beers. He handed one to InuYasha and sat beside him on the couch.

“Come on, this is getting ridiculous. You have been obsessing over this girl for what? Three weeks, now? Just go downstairs, knock on her door and ask her out.”

Miroku took a long sip of his Heineken, as if rewarding himself for giving the world’s greatest advice. InuYasha wished he would choke on it.

“I’m not knocking on her door and asking her out, dipshit! We have no idea what the girl looks like!”

“Then do us both a favor and go find out!”

To be totally honest, her appearance was what mattered the least about this girl, although he couldn’t deny his curiosity.

Her voice.

It was her voice that started it all.

For two years he had been sharing this little apartment with Miroku and for two years it had been easy for them to ignore each resident of the building without a second thought. InuYasha was in no way a social guy and even though Miroku had a weak spot for the ladies, he had vowed not to get involved with a neighbor, ever.

“Location, location, location.” InuYasha remembered Miroku explaining once. “It’s simultaneously the best pro and the worst con. I’d rather not risk it, it could get pretty ugly.”

Knowing his tendency to hit and run, it was probably the smartest call.

And life went on as usual.

Until InuYasha heard her voice.

It was exceptionally loud. That was the very first thing he noticed. The second thing was that he incredibly didn’t mind at all. There was a sincerity tone to it that was ever present. Almost as if physically unable to lie. Sweet. Gentle. Smooth. But not in a generic way. He could download it into his GPS and drive forever. Her laughter had over him the same effect of sunbeams reaching out the untouched ground of a frozen forest and when she talks too low, something primal and urgent wakes inside him, letting him dying to know what his name would sound like between her whispers.

Then it became less about how and more about what she talked.

Her name was Kagome. She was in her twenties and had just graduated from pedagogy school. Three weeks ago, she had moved in with the girl who lived precisely in the apartment below theirs to save money as she adapted to the new job of substitute teacher. She had a cat named Buyo, couldn’t swear for the life of her, sang a lot, a bit clumsy, definitely a half full kind of person... Single, as far as he could tell.

Kagome had the most hilarious stories, most of them starring her little brother, her grandpa or her friends. He was especially fond of the ones in which she tried to be nice and it ended up blowing on her face spectacularly. Her heart was too big for her own good.

On the floor below, the girl in question left what InuYasha assumed was her kitchen and walked to the living room, turning the TV on. Even now, when the current conversation was supposed to be his focus, he found himself painfully aware of her moviments.

Miroku didn’t have to know any of that.

“That’s insane.”

“Why? How is that insane?”

“Hi, I’m InuYasha, your upstairs neighbor. You don’t know me, but I’ve been listening to everything you say or sing in your apartment since the day you moved in. Often on purpose, like a creepy person. Anyway, wanna have dinner sometime?”

“Lose the ‘creepy’ part and you’ll be fine.”

“Drop it, it ain’t happening.”

“Well, at least you recognize your obsession. Admitting you have a problem is the first step to recover.”

“You’re my problem,” he mumbled.

“Wrong, my friend. I’m the solution. You just gotta listen to me.”

“Yeah, don’t count on it.” Miroku laughed. “So how was work?”

“You’re changing the subject.”

“Damn straight I am.”

They made small talk and drank for a while, then Miroku pulled out his phone to check his notifications and InuYasha searched Netflix for an action movie they haven’t seen yet. The girl was binge-watching a sitcom. A good one, judging by the way her laughter reached his ears every now and then.

He smiled.

In moments like these, it was crazy tempting to walk down the stairs and go for it, but InuYasha wouldn’t dare. He was perfectly fine just hearing her life from a safe distance so they couldn’t hurt each other, because this is what love inevitably leads to — and that was assuming she wouldn’t reject his advances, in the first place.

Might as well save them both some pain.

“So what do you say? Shall we eat ramen for the third time in a row or order some pizza? InuYasha?”

But he wasn’t listening. In the apartment below, a door opened. Her roommate, Sango, had arrived.

“Hey!”

“Hey!” Replied Kagome. “I hope you’re hungry, ‘cause I just made lasagna.”

“And I hope you’re thirsty, ‘cause I just bought Tequila.”

“Tough day, huh?”

“Tough week.”

“Balcony?”

“You bet.”

The girls turned the blender on.

The balcony was their favorite spot to chat. It was also where the acoustic sounded better. To the point even human ears could catch the words.

One look at InuYasha and Miroku realized what it meant.

“Is she going to the balcony?” He asked, but didn’t wait for an answer.

InuYasha ran, intercepting Miroku just in time. One hand securely covering his friend’s mouth, the other holding him still. They were now in their own balcony.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

There was an attempt to speak, but it came off muttered. Even so, InuYasha refused to budge his hand. Until Miroku licked it. “Ugh!”

“What does it look like?” He questioned while InuYasha compulsively wiped his hand on his jeans. “I’m being your wingman.”

“I don’t need a wingman and will you shut up, already?” His whispered, angry. Miroku was ready to deliver a cunning comeback when the blender stopped and the girls stepped into the balcony.

“So I had to break up with Kuranosuke today.”

“Break up? I thought you guys were friends with benefits or whatever.”

“YES! WE WERE! THANK YOU! Now could you please be a lamb and go tell him that? Maybe I didn’t make myself clear the first four hundred times! Oh, stop laughing!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Go on.”

“It was a nightmare! The whole week he kept sending flowers and Valentine’s Day cards to the precinct. It’s not even february!”

“I’m surprised you didn’t get him arrested.”

“Believe me, I was this close. It’s hard enough getting their respect, you know? Being a female cop and all. He wasn’t helping.”

“I know. But hey! Someday you’ll find the guy for you. Someone who’ll understand how much your job means. I’m serious! You will!”

“Nope. That’s it for me. I’m done with men.”

“Funny, I’m in the opposite vibe.”

“Really? Now that’s interesting.”

“It’s just… I haven’t dated anyone since Koga.”

“Damn, you’re right! I haven’t realized it.”

“You know what? You should set me up with someone.”

Miroku playfully punched InuYasha’s shoulder, getting his attention. “That’s your chance,” he mouthed. The half demon shook his head.

“Hmmm… Wouldn’t Ayumi, Yuka and What’s-Her-Name be a better option for that? I’m usually cuffing most guys I meet.”

“Eri. And no way! They would just set me up with Hojo.”

“Right! And why won’t you date him, again?”

“Because he’s my friend!”

“He is cute.”

“A cute friend.”

“He likes you.”

“Not my fault.”

“Fine. I’ll d—”

“HEY, NEIGHBORS! NEIGHBORS!”

Mortified, InuYasha watched Miroku make a fool of himself. Like in a movie, his body seemed to forget how to react.

“Hi!” Greeted Sango. “I’m sorry. Were we being too loud? We’ll keep it down.”

“No, it’s okay, the walls are really thin. Listen… I have this friend. And he’s really into your friend’s voice. I was wondering if she would be interest in going on a date with him.”

“What?” Kagome let out a shaken giggle.

“Is this for real?”

“Yes! I gotta go, but check his Instagram out. It’s @InuYashaTaisho.”

Apparently very pleased with himself, Miroku walked inside.

“You’re a dead man!”

“What do you think?” Kagome asked, while InuYasha chased Miroku around the apartment.

“It can’t hurt to give a look,” Answered Sango.

“Five years from now, when the two of you get married, you’ll be thanking me for this.” Miroku dodged the pillow InuYasha threw on his direction.

“Don’t ya worry. Imma make sure to write this on your tombstone.”

“Sango!”

“Wha—Wow! This is him? What are you gonna do?”

InuYasha threw another pillow. Miroku caught it in the air. He was cornered on the wall and nothing could save him now.

Bzzt! Bzzzt!

Impertinently, his phone choose that exact minute to vibrate. InuYasha fished it off his back pocket and the notification took his breath away.

Kagome Higurashi started following you.

“Is that her?”

InuYasha ignored him. The only important thing was the dark haired beauty smiling brightly on his screen. Her eyes were big and warm, framed by extremely long black lashes. She had adorable bangs and sharped cheeks. The perfect shape of her lips rivaled those from a greek statue and they seemed to be painted in a natural shade of pink in almost every picture. Except when they were burning red.

He couldn’t have put a better face to the voice if he tried.

Scrolling down her feed, InuYasha continued to connect the features he didn’t know with the names he did. Sango. Her mom. Sota. Buyo. Her grandfather.

“Let me see!” Miroku ran to his side and hang on his shoulder like a parrot, whistling in approval as InuYasha went on. “Woah, wait, wait, wait! Who is that?”

“That’s Sango, the girl you just embarrassed me and yourself in front of.” He followed Kagome back.

“I think I’m in love.”

InuYasha glared at him.

“Don’t even think about it.”

“He followed me back!”

“Oh, it’s going down!” Sango laughed.

“Watch me.” Defied Miroku.

“What the fuck happened to the ‘not dating neighbors’ rule?”

“If four years of law school taught me something was that every rule has its exceptions. In this case, the exception is the absurd level of hotness of said neighbor.”

“On a second thought, go ahead and date her. It’s about time someone put you in jail.”

Miroku smirked.

“Should I say hello?”

“Definitely!” Encouraged Sango. “Don’t schedule anything until I check him for bad precedents, though.”

“You’re such a cop.”

Bzzt! Bzzzt!

Hi!

Hi! I’m sorry about my friend. He thinks ‘boundaries’ is an indie band.

She chuckled.

“Hey!”

“Don’t you have a pizza to order?” InuYasha faced him, eyebrows raised. Miroku narrowed his eyes and left.

“This isn’t over.”

That’s okay. So... you’re a dog demon. I’m assuming this is how you can hear us down here?

Actually I’m half demon, which means I’m only half responsible for invading your privacy. The other half is on you for being so damn loud.

Excuse me?! I thought you liked my loud personality! Wasn’t that the whole point?

To be fair, what I liked was your killer cover of Livin’ On A Prayer.

OH MY GOD! I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU HEARD THAT! Okay. This isn’t fair. You’ve been listening to my voice since I moved in, but I have no idea what yours sound like.

The next text he sent her was his phone number.

A/N: it’s been a while, yes? Tell me if you guys enjoyed this one. Fluff is not really my thing. Let me know if I can interest you in a Part II of them dating and send me sugestions of where they could go, if you want to. If I liked them better than the ideas I have in mind, I might end up writing it (is not a priority, though).

Also, I want to dedicate this piece to @xfangheartx. Thank you for always being a sweetheart.

#Neighbor Crush (The Thread)#InuYasha #Kagome Higurashi #Inukag #Inukag Fluff #Inukag Oneshot #InuYasha Fanfic #My Writing #Inukag AU #InuYasha AU #Inukag Modern AU

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casuallydyinginthecorner · 3 years

Text

Nothing's Going To Hurt You- a Kiribaku Oneshot

I posted this a while ago but can't find it anywhere, so here it is again! Check tags for trigger warnings

The dream started out familiar enough. The class was in the middle of training, and Bakugo had just blown through a row of cement blocks. He shouted triumphantly. That was the fastest he’d been in a week.

Then All Might came into the room.

No, Bakugo decided. He could do better. He tried again, but instead of exploding like the previous shot, the blocks absorbed the explosions and transformed into hands.

At first, the hands came towards him in a motherly caress. Then they turned gnarled, grabbing him and forcing him into a chair and merging to form a body.

“You want to be a hero?” Shigaraki said in his mother’s voice. “Let’s see what you can do.” His grip turned to iron as the scene changed once again.

“Let’s see what you can do.”

The heat grew from intense to suffocating, until soon enough it became so hot that the world around him contracted into a ball. No, the magician’s ball. He was trapped again, but this time Bakugo was too big to fit. Too big, yet so, so small. No matter how hard he punched and kicked and hit the walls, they only got harder, thicker, absorbing all the air. Bakugo’s face watered. If he didn’t find a way to get out now, he would die.

The walls expanded, turning into a stern hand that slapped his cheek.

“You think talking will get you what you want?” his mother scolded. “No. If you speak so quietly, cry so often, you will never get what you want. Stand up, Katsuki. Your crying is pathetic.”

But Bakugo couldn’t stop the tears from falling. It wasn’t his fault Half-and-Half didn’t try. It wasn’t his fault he got kidnapped. It wasn’t his fault Deku got chosen over him. So why was everyone in his life blaming him?

Bakugo shoved the hand aside and started running. A laugh echoed around him as the hand melted into a new, expanding darkness, taking a new form in vague but recognizable blobs- his classmates. As he ran forward, they moved further ahead. Bakugo jumped into the air and used explosions to propel himself, but to no avail. They surpassed him, and he was left behind. No. Not like this.

He extended his arm out and grabbed one. When it turned around, its face was made of tape. Bakugo jerked his hand back. The fire in his second hand sputtered out, landing on another blob, this one pink. Another seized him from behind, this one sparking. As he got pushed into the darkness, the blob turned bright red.

The darkness became more pressured as he fell. Bits of the blobs fell with him, turning into staticy bits of memory. The pressure increased as he took them in-a glimpse of his kindergarten teacher whispering a warning to his mother: “be careful around Bakugo, his behavior lately is erratic,” one of his mother and father shutting the door to his room until he could “get over himself” after a tantrum, one of All Might, pulling him away from Deku, not saying anything, but his expression saying enough.

As Bakugo fell down, the pressure in his ears turned to humming whispers, all saying one thing: you’re worthless.

Then, as a final parting gift, the dream changed one last time. He saw the bits of static form into one large person, floating towards the almost microscopic Bakugo-different now, older, but with the same evil, chilling smile. It wasn’t until his body started crumbling into dust that he recognized it as Shigaraki’s.

“You’d make a fine villain someday.”

Even though Bakugo knew it was a dream, he could still feel the tingling of Decay working its way up his body. His lungs were constricting, filling with sand. He couldn’t breathe, no matter how hard he tried. Around him, the darkness became crushing, creating a void in his mind, threatening to suck up everything until he became an insignificant speck. But wasn’t that all he was? Katsuki Bakugo would never be a hero, never rise to the top and become number one (1). Why should he even try? If all he would amount to would be worth too little, why should anyone believe in him? It was his fault All Might chose Deku. If only he had trained faster, stronger, pushed himself harder, maybe he would have-

“Bakugo?”

The pressure eased, but the Decay didn’t stop. His lungs began to dissolve, droplets of blood filling the air. This was it.

“Bakugo, listen to me.”

Something came out of the darkness. A hand, unfurling in his direction. After what he’d seen, Bakugo should have run away as far as he could. But this hand was different. Gentle.

He felt something on his arm. A faint pressure, keeping him from fully drifting away. The hand moved closer.

“Focus on my hand. It’s warm, right?” Closer.

“It’s warm, just like the room. You’re in the common room, on the couch that faces the TV. The heater is going off, and it’s making a rumbling noise.” Closer.

The voice continued. “You’re lying down, and one of your hands is on the floor. Can you feel it?” Closer. Slowly, the darkness faded to a lighter gray.

“It’s 1:24 a.m. No one else is here. It’s just you and me.” The hand was so close that Bakugo could almost see its jagged lines. If he jumped up now, he would reach it.

“Nothing’s going to hurt you.”

As Bakugo jumped from the ground, the face called out. Come on!

“Nothing’s going to hurt you.” The darkness turned to white as Bakugo took the hand. The common room came into focus, and with that, someone else.

“Sh*tty Hair?”

“Yep.” He moved closer. “How do you feel?”

“Why do you care?” Bakugo sat up. Someone had set a glass of water on the coffee table in front of him.

“Drink this.” Sh*tty Hair handed him the glass. Bakugo downed it gratefully. With a start, he realized that Sh*tty Hair’s hand was still intertwined in his.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” Bakugo asked, tearing his hand away. He decided to ignore the look of hurt on Sh*tty Hair’s face.

“I was getting water and saw you fell asleep. I was gonna leave you be, but you were breathing so quickly…” Sh*tty Hair trailed off. “A panic attack,” he finally said. “I get those sometimes, too. What I just did is called grounding. It helps.” His gaze went to the glass. “Oh, are you finished? I’ll get you some more water. And then,” he said, “we can talk about what happened? If you want?”

Bakugo said nothing. Why had he stepped in? His dream, or panic attack, or whatever it was, wasn’t any of his business.

“Why did you help me?” he grumbled.

“What?”

“Why did you help me?” You’d think he told Sh*tty Hair he wanted to play chess, he was so shocked.

“Why wouldn’t I?” He chuckled. “You needed help-and there’s nothing wrong with that- and I know how it feels when you’re alone and panicking, so…”

What had he said? Nothing’s going to hurt you. Tch. Like he would know. But still, if what he’d said was true…

“I need to be alone.” Luckily, Sh*tty Hair seemed to understand.

“I’ll be in my room if you need me. Door’s unlocked.” He set off towards the staircase.

Bakugo hesitated. Nothing’s going to hurt you.

“Sh*tty Hair?”

He turned around. “Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

A small smile spread across his face. “Anytime.”

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