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kohanayaki · 3 years ago

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.:Time And Time Again:. (Marauders Era x Reader) Ch 1

Old habits die hard— and so do feelings, apparently. Relive moments high and low from your life with the Marauders and co. as you tell your godson, Harry, about all the mischief you got up to back in your school days. Takes place mainly in the Marauders era but also has content congruent with the Order of the Phoenix timeline, with some cannon divergence, of course~

- Main pairings: Sirius Black x Reader, Severus Snape x Reader, James Potter x Reader, Remus Lupin x Reader, slight Regulus Black x Reader, and a bunch of friendships! Gender neutral pronouns :)

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

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Ch 1 .:Memories And First Meetings:.

12 Grimmauld Place was cold.

Not in the temperature sense of the word, especially in the heat of London summer, but something about it felt distant. Perhaps it was the cookie cutter exterior, dreadfully drab, although you knew its true nature was anything but. Despite its grandeur, the interior was as ornate as it was dull and unsaturated, like a black and white photograph in all its monochromatic glory. Maybe it was the fact that you knew what had happened here in the past, or the fact that you knew who was waiting here for you in the present.

You felt the strange sensation of stepping through the thick blanket of protection charms surrounding the house, as if your body were moving through molasses for a fraction of a second. The moment you were fully inside, you began to hear the hushed bits of a conversation echoing through the entrance hall from the dining room whose door was slightly ajar. The words became clearer as you neared the door.

“Harry's not ready! Have you gone completely mad?”

You found yourself grinning at the first voice, Molly Weasley's stern tone unmistakable.

“He's not a child, Molly.”

You froze as you heard the second one; you'd know it anywhere.

A heavy wave of emotion surged through you as you got near enough to the entrance to see the face of Sirius Black through the gap in the door. His time in Azkaban had taken a toll on him, you could tell. Heavy bags hung from his face, his cheeks hollow; although his gray eyes still held that spark in them. His hair was longer, somehow even more wild and unruly than before, but it suited him.

“Well he's not an adult either! He's not James.”

You caught a flash of ginger as Molly crossed the room, using her wand to aggressively clear away the plates on the table as she made her point.

“I know he isn't, but he can handle himself,” Sirius said, “and I'll be there to protect him.”

“How touching, Black. Perhaps the boy will grow up to be a felon just like his godfather.”

Your stomach dropped at the third voice. Shit.

Your presence remained unannounced, but as you peaked your head around the corner of the door frame you were met with Severus' stoic face, an imperceptible crease of distaste in his brow as he regarded Sirius. As your view widened you saw that Lupin sat to his left, a human wall between the two former foes.

You stilled at the door, taking a deep breath in an attempt to settle your irrationally rioting nerves. It's not as if you didn't know they would be there, but it had been so long since you'd seen any of them. So much has changed. . .

“You stay out of this, Snivelus. I don't care what Dumbledore has to say about your supposed reformation, but I know better.”

“Don't you have to go play fetch elsewhere?”

“Oh come on, you two,” Remus sighed.

Well, maybe not much has changed after all.

“Still resorting to playground bickering, are we?”

Several heads snapped in your direction at your words, and you were met with various reactions. Molly's face immediately split into a smile and she rushed around to table to greet you.

“(Y/n), dear! So nice to see you again,” she pulled you into a surprisingly strong hug and you couldn't help but join in her laughter.

“It's good to be back,” you admitted, “Charlie says hello, by the way.”

“Oh, I'm going to give give that boy a talking to,” Molly huffed, “you aren't his owl, dear. The least he could do is write home and say so himself.”

“Romanian mountain ranges keep a wizard busy,” you grinned, “He says he tries to keep in touch.”

“Sending home a bag of petrified dragon scales with a note that says 'look at this!!' is hardly keeping in touch,” she retorted, fussing about with your jacket's collar that had become wrinkled from her embrace.

Even from across the table you could feel Sirius' eyes on you, grateful that you had Molly's whirlwind greeting as a scapegoat for your flushed face.

“(Y/n). . .” he said softly, getting up from his seat.

“Hey,” you smiled, fighting the lump in your throat as he wrapped his arms around you. He was so warm, still wearing that damn leather jacket he'd somehow been reunited with after his imprisonment.

“What are you doing here? They told me you were out working in America,” Sirius said, eyes twinkling as he held you at arm's length.

“Well, I suppose I'm sort of working everywhere these days,” you said. As his words registered in your brain you turned to Molly with narrowed eyes. “You didn't tell him I was coming?”

“I thought it would be a nice surprise,” she said coyly.

You shook your head, turning back to Sirius.

“I'm so sorry, Molly said I could stay here so I thought she already ran it by you—”

“No, no, of course you can stay!” he said enthusiastically, “I'm glad you're here.”

He seemed gentler than he was before, certainly more mellow than in his youth, but that energy that was so quintessentially him remained buzzing beneath his skin, and Merlin, you'd missed it.

After realizing how long the two of you had spent practically holding each other you coughed awkwardly, slowly drifting apart. As you looked around the table your eyes caught Severus' and you thought your heart stopped for a moment. To the untrained eye he probably seemed just as uninterested as ever, but the look of shock in his eyes was so blatantly apparent to you that it threw you off guard. You managed to cast a small smile in his direction, but his expression remained unchanged while yours dropped. You felt your stomach twist up in knots as you thought about what had happened the last time you saw each other.

Lupin looked between the pair of you before getting up from his own seat and coming to your rescue. He extended his arms with a kind smile, and you happily shifted your attention to him.

“It's about time London had its best auror back in town,” he said.

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Moony,” you said playfully, hugging him tight, “It's good to see you too.”

“Are you hungry?” Molly asked, pulling a chair out for you.

“Oh no, I had something on the way here,” you said, taking a seat, “thank you, though.”

It felt surreal to be back here, where it all started. The faces were different—some new, some missing—but the same determined feeling remained.

“Now, where were we,” Sirius said, his confidence returning to his shoulders as he addressed the table.

“We were just talking about how Harry isn't ready to be tangled up in all this,” Molly said sternly.

“I think he should decide that for himself,” Sirius said adamantly.

“Well of course the boy would say he wants to fight, he's—”

“Listening in right now,” you pointed out, jutting your head in the direction of the open door where Harry stood, half obscured by the shadow of the stairway.

The boy flushed, backing away slightly as he was caught. But his eyes lit up as they landed on you, and you felt a tug at your heart as you saw your best friend in their bright green hues.

“(Y/n), you're back,” he said in disbelief.

“And here to stay for a bit, apparently,” you said with a smile.

Molly looked between the two of you before letting out a sigh.

“You know what, we should stop for the night anyways,” she said with a wave of her hand, “We've kept the children up long enough with our chatter, and (Y/n) ought to get some rest as well. Off to bed, the lot of you.”

Some of the other adults exchanged some knowing smiles as she shooed them out of the room. People slowly trickled out through the doorway, goodbyes exchanged, and before long it was just you and your godson left.

You had been lucky enough to meet Harry at the end of his third year, and he'd broken the news about Sirius' innocence to you. You so badly wanted to be there for Harry sooner, but between your strained relationship with the Ministry and cleaning up the mess with MACUSA in the States, you always seemed to be called away from the boy. You wanted nothing more than to take him away from that horrid house—you knew how nasty Petunia could be firsthand. Nonetheless, he seemed to be doing well, and you were happy that you'd grown closer over the last few years even if you couldn't be there in person all the time.

“I've got another little souvenir for you, by the way,” you said, having migrated to the living room.

Harry seemed to perk up at that. Since your visits had been so sparse, you began to make it a tradition to bring him back something magical from whatever part of the world you'd been working in.

“You mentioned you were struggling in Potions the last time we spoke,” you said, rummaging through your bag, eventually producing a small, gold-rimmed vial full of a deep maroon liquid. Small black clouds seemed to tumble in a miniature cyclone inside the glass.

“Dragon's breath essence,” you grinned, “nicked it off of Charlie before I left Romania. Put a few drops of this in your salamander blood the next time you brew a Wiggenweld potion and you're set to pass with flying colors.”

“Brilliant!” Harry said, eyes wide, “that's on our O.W.L.S. this year.”

“I know,” you said cheekily, “you didn't hear it from me. Personally, I think an Outstanding in Potions as a requirement to become an auror is utter rubbish. Don't get me wrong, it's important to know your way around a cauldron, but to hold someone back who excels at Defense Against the Dark Arts and Charms just because they can't cook up a sleeping draught? I don't know, it doesn't sit right with me. And I've heard Severus is hard enough on you guys as it is.”

Harry seemed surprised at your casual address of his professor but shook it off quickly.

“But you're ace at Potions, and it seems like you really like it,” he said.

“Yeah, well I—” you faltered a bit, “I learned from the best. . .”

“Professor Slughorn, you mean?” Harry questioned.

Your eyes widened at that.

“Yeah,” you lied, recovering fast, “Well, Slughorn was a great teacher but terrible at throwing parties. He had this thing called the Slug Club and the dinners were just awful. Your mother was the first of us to join and she ended up roping me into it, and before we knew it we were all standing around in these ridiculous outfits taking swigs of the firewhiskey your dad snuck in just to get through the night.”

You smiled fondly at the memory, and you could see Harry living vicariously through the emotions on your face. You were grateful for this moment; this was the longest you'd actually gotten to sit down and talk together in a long time.

“Were you always friends?” Harry asked, “with my parents, I mean.”

You had to laugh at that question.

“With your mum, yes. Your father, well, not exactly. . .”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 1971 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your body swayed gently with the movement of the Hogwarts Express as you walked up and down the isles, looking for someplace to sit. Most of the carriages were packed tight with large groups made up of upperclassmen not exactly looking to expand their circle.

As you approached the back of the train a mostly empty car caught your eye, occupied only by two children your age, or at least that's what you guessed from their black ties and basic robes that marked them as unsorted first-years like yourself.

One of them was a brooding looking boy with messy, shoulder length black hair and shockingly pale skin, leaning against the wall of the train and halfway through a book that seemed well beyond his years. Sitting across from him was a pretty red-headed girl who was admiring the rapidly passing scenery through the window.

“Excuse me, do you mind if I sit with you?” you asked, sliding the screen door open.

The boy's brow furrowed, clearly about refuse when the young girl beat him to it.

“Of course not!” she beamed, her smile infectious. You didn't miss the sharp look she shot over to the boy who simply rolled his eyes in response. After you muttered a small 'thanks' she scooted over closer to the window so you could sit next to her.

“My name is Lily,” she said, extending a hand, “Lily Evans.”

“Nice to meet you,” you smiled, “I'm (Y/n) (L/n).”

The boy quirked a brow at your last name, his expression shifting to something unreadable as he blatantly studied you over the spine of his book. After letting this go on for some time, you glanced over at Lily.

“Does he speak?”

“Perfectly well, thank you,” the boy said coldly.

Lily sent a disappointed look his way and his heart fell slightly, but he didn't need to be friends with anyone else, and he certainly didn't want other people becoming friends with Lily either. An irrational thought, he knew, but it was how his stubborn little brain worked at the time. They didn't need anyone but each other. Wasn't that enough?

In any case, he expected his behavior would be enough to scare you off (it usually worked on other people), but to his complete and utter surprise, you began to laugh. It started off as a light giggle, soon growing into full on laughter. He stared at you in open confusion as you were nearly brought to tears from your fit.

“You're funny,” you stated honestly, managing to speak through your chortles.

The boy was taken completely aback by your candor, actually at a loss for words. Lily joined in the laughter at your simple remark.

“So you do talk, I guess you must have a name too, then,” you said teasingly.

He blinked once. Twice.

“. . . Severus Snape.”

“That's a cool name.”

The heat that crept onto the boy's face surprised no one more than himself, and he buried himself in his book quickly to hide it. Another surprisingly frank statement from you, and not one he'd ever heard before.

If he thought you were full of surprises then, he had no idea what was coming to him.

_____________________________________________________________

The minute the Sorting Hat was placed on your head, it was immediately intrigued.

“Now here's an odd one,” it chuckled, “loyal, compassionate, empathetic, and yet a razor wit. A calculating, ambitious mind, and yet a relentless sense of adventure. All this, and with your bloodline to take into account as well. Your family has quite the history here, (L/n).”

Hushed whispers fell across the Great Hall among the older students and even some of the faculty at the hat's words, and you shifted uncomfortably in your seat.

“Though, I sense a different sort of mentality in you,” the hat continued, “you desire to challenge the old ways,” it paused for some time before going on, “do you truly have no preference, child?”

You were surprised at the question. You knew your family's reputation— it had been ingrained in you from a young age— but that didn't sway you, nor did it scare you. When you really thought about what house you wanted to be in, you truly couldn't think of an answer. It wouldn't change who you were, after all. Whether you donned red, yellow, blue, or green, you stood firmly in the knowledge that you would always be (Y/n) (L/n). Having made up your mind, you shook your head at the hat's question, and although its face was obscured from your view, you could almost sense its grin as it knew you were telling the truth.

“Well then,” it chuckled, “It is truly rare that I get an opportunity such as this. Let's make it interesting, then, shall we? Better be. . . Slytherin!”

Snape sat, slack-jawed, as you bounded over to the applauding Slytherin table and plopped down next to him. You rested your chin atop your folded hands, looking largely unbothered, a glint in your (e/c) eyes. He chuckled under his breath despite himself.

Full of surprises indeed.

___________________________________________________________

Your first encounter with James Potter was of a different sort.

It was the very beginning of your third year when you'd first met him properly. You had a few classes together, and Lily would rant about him constantly pestering her; occasionally you'd see the Gryffindor, along with another unfamiliar boy in his house, sprinting through the corridors, Professor McGonagall not far behind and demanding them to stop. But other than that, you'd never really interacted with him.

Ever since you'd met on the train you and Lily started to hang out more and more, with Snape “begrudgingly” tagging along. The Slytherin had been slow to warm up to you, but you were relentlessly kind and infuriatingly persistent, and eventually he found himself enjoying your little quips and comparatively sunny disposition. By the end of your first year, the three of you were nearly inseparable, and your bond only strengthened throughout your second. But third year is when things started changing.

Snape sat in the shade among the thick, overgrown roots of the old oak tree by the Black Lake, nose deep in an advanced Potions textbook he'd swiped from a fifth year as he waited for you and Lily to return from Transfiguration, the only class you didn't have together. This became your usual spot, with Lily sitting in the grass beside him and you on the branch above him, legs swinging as you absentmindedly sketched in your notebook. A comfortable silence would settle between you, something you'd all grown to enjoy; there was no need for constant conversation, it was enough sometimes to just enjoy each others' presence.

The silence he was reveling in alone, however, was promptly interrupted as rowdy laughter reached Snape's ears. Sure enough, a few figures emerged from the curve of the hill, revealing none other than James Potter, flanked by the curly haired boy he'd been seen running around with earlier along with two other Gryffindors: a short-statured boy with dirty blonde hair and another, taller and leaner, with long scars that ran along his face.

Snape didn't pay them much mind until he realized that they were heading straight for the tree— straight for him. Snape had noticed right away how the Potter boy had tried to befriend Lily as soon as she was sorted into Gryffindor, and it was safe to say he was less than fond of him despite having never really spoken to him before.

“You've got to be joking,” James snickered as he walked up to the tree, looking Snape up and down, “This is the guy Evans has been ditching us to see?”

Severus' eyes narrowed. So now he had a reason not to like him.

“Get lost,” he said, turning back to his book.

“What, you think you're too good to talk to us, huh?” James scoffed at him, clearly miffed.

As if on cue, the curly haired boy snatched the book out of Snape's hands, holding it out of his reach as he fumbled to get it back.

“Toss it, Sirius!” James called out. The boy, who he now knew as Sirius, threw the textbook like a frisbee, and Potter caught it easily.

As Snape angrily rose from his seat to get it back, the two boys continued to throw it between themselves so he couldn't grab it. Fed up, the Slytherin drew his wand but was quickly outmatched.

“Expelliarmus!”

Snape's wand flew out of his hands and straight into Sirius', who held it above his head. Just as the black haired boy jumped up for it, another spell flew towards him, this time from James.

“Winguardium Leviosa!”

Snape grit his teeth, staring helplessly at his wand as it hovered higher and higher out of his reach.

“James, come on, I think that's enough,” the taller boy near the back said.

“Don't be a bore, Remus, we're just having some fun.”

“I-I think he's right, guys.”

“Shut up, Peter.”

While his gaze was trained on his wand a harsh shove threw Snape to the ground, tears of frustration welling up in his eyes.

“No way, is he really crying?” James taunted.

“He is,” Sirius goaded on, “just look at him snivel.”

“You're right, maybe we should call him Snivelus, it suits him better.”

“Nice one, James.”

Snape winced as he was harshly pulled to his feet by James who sneered at him.

“Come on then, Snivelous. What are you gonna do?”

“Relashio!”

James' eyes widened as he suddenly felt himself repulsed back by some invisible force, his grip on Snape's robes forced to loosen as he was flung backwards. You stared the shocked Gryffindors down, wand at the ready for another spell as you ran to stand between Severus and them.

“Accio!” another voice called out, Snape's book and wand whizzing past their faces and into Lily's hands.

James staggered to his feet, trying to look unbothered by the fact that he'd just been knocked down, and by a spell that he hadn't even heard of yet.

“Look at that, boys,” he said, feigning confidence, “guess Snivelus needs a couple of girls to come to his rescue. You should ditch this loser, Evans.”

Before Lily could lash back, you stepped between them.

“What's that supposed to mean?” you scoffed.

“I'm sorry, who are you?”

You felt your forehead twitch, itching to smack that smug grin off his face.

It was Sirius who spoke next, recognition filling his gaze.

“Wait, you're the (L/n) kid, aren't you? Well that's just perfect, you two freaks can go study the Unforgivable Curses together.”

That struck a nerve in you.

“You don't know anything,” you said, not lowering your wand, “now get out of here before I knock you down too.”

“Aw, I don't know, Sirius, they're kind of cute all flustered like this,” James smirked.

You felt anger flare up in your chest, and it was Lily's turn to step in for you.

“Leave us alone, James,” she ordered.

When none of them moved you exhaled sharply, taking another step forward.

“Or I can just turn you into a flobberworm instead,” you said, “might be more fitting.”

Sirius laughed off your threat, but you could have sworn you saw a twinge of concern in his eyes as he looked over to the rest of his friends for backup.

“Let's just go, James. Come on,” the one named Remus said, trying to be the voice of reason.

The bespectacled boy frowned, shoving his wand back in his robes.

“Fine,” he said, “they aren't worth it anyways.”

He turned promptly on his heels, Sirius right behind him and Peter scampering after. Remus stayed behind for a moment, regarding you three.

“I'm sorry about them,” he said, “really.”

Your brow creased in suspicion, but you nodded, not quite smiling but offering up a neutral expression at least before he turned to catch up with the rest of his group.

“You were kidding about (L/n) being cute, right?” Sirius said as they headed back to the common room. When he was met with silence instead of a clear 'of course I was' he nearly had a stroke.

“Are you kidding, James?” Sirius said incredulously, “They're a Slytherin! They're just another dark arts dabbler who doesn't care about anything but their blood status.”

James only shrugged.

“Normally I'd agree, but they seem different,” he said. When he turned to see Sirius' unwavering expression he sighed, “I was just saying that to get a rise out of 'em. Don't worry, this won't be the last time we mess with them and Snivelus.”

Meanwhile, you were still out sitting by the tree, brushing the grass out of Severus' hair.

“That was amazing, (Y/n),” Lily said, wide-eyed, “How did you manage to learn that spell? And you already learned the worm-morphing jinx too?”

“Sev isn't the only one who's been learning ahead,” you said, “but that worm thing was a total bluff.”

“I didn't need your help,” Snape muttered.

You blinked down at him, shaking your head and unable to fight the smirk that crept onto your face.

“Sure you didn't,” you huffed, helping him up to his feet despite his protests, “don't be so dramatic, we won't tell anyone if that's what you're so worried about. Now come on, we're gonna be late for dinner. If Wilkes hogs all the Yorkshire puddings I'm blaming you entirely.”

Severus said nothing, only taking his book and wand back from Lily before you three walked back to the castle arm in arm, the smallest hint of a smile playing on his lips.

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

“It seems like so long ago,” you said, reminiscing, “Although I suppose it was, but I don't want to think about that too hard— I'll start to feel old, Merlin forbid.”

Harry's eyes were full of disbelief at your story.

“So you, my mum, and. . . Snape were friends?”

“Believe it or not,” you grinned, “unlikely trio as we were, it just sort of worked somehow.”

Until it didn't, you thought grimly, but forced the thought aside. You could tell by how quiet Harry had gotten that something was bothering him.

“My dad really did that?” he asked quietly.

Your gaze softened and you turned to fully face him.

“He was dumb and immature at the time,” you said, “we all were. There's not much else to be when you're thirteen. Each of us made plenty of mistakes, too many to count. And your mum. . . she was good for him. He always told me that she made him want to be a better person. People can change. In my opinion, there are few things someone can do that makes them truly irredeemable, and your father never came close to doing any of those things.”

You thought it better to mention that Snape probably didn't feel the same way.

“In any case, we should be getting to bed,” you said, getting up from the couch, “if you ever want to hear any other stories about your parents, I've got plenty of them.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, smile brightening his whole face, “yeah, definitely. Thank you.”

As Harry walked off to his room you sighed, making your way as quietly as you could up the creaky stairs. Just as you were about to retreat into your own guest room, your eyes snagged on the slightly ajar door at the top of the stairwell.

You stalled in front of it for a moment, wondering if you were out of your mind or not. When you had unapologetically settled on 'yes', you moved to knock on the door when it suddenly swung open. You practically leaped back at the proximity as you were met with Sirius standing in the doorway, stormy eyes wide. He'd shed his leather jacket for the night, leaving him in a dark maroon button up with the top few undone. Your senses were draped with the heady scent of his cologne, and you found yourself grasping at words to say.

When Sirius got over his initial shock he laughed sheepishly, running a hand through his curls out of habit.

“I was about to see if you were awake,” he admitted with a small grin, “Seems we both had the same idea.”

Read chapter 2 here !

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jellyluchi · 2 years ago

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Don't fuck with me! (I've got the power of love and vengeance on my side!)

A/N: Halloween month slasher revenge thing! Includes cringey stand battles and a first person POV mostly because her pain is felt more personally like that.

Pairing: Prosciutto x Focaccia

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Major character death, stab wounds, blood

Summary: After some teenagers ruin her vacation with her husband suffering a terrible fate at their hands, Focaccia decides to avenge her beloved.

[Like this post to join the list. Message me anytime to be taken off!]

Tag list: @hoestarave2 , @glorified-monster , @uminozerol , @syntheticseraton1n , @sweetsparklerain , @ricebaby01 , @r0z0s-moodyblurs , @strawbieqt , @mapesandoval , @mrskakyoin , @kalesalad420 , @meat-husband , @emproleon

You know what’s the worst trope in all of horror? When the group of white people that go into forest and rent a cabin to stay overnight, ignoring whatever stupid legend or warnings that should be enough to keep them at bay.

I know… knew one such group of little white teens. And no, they didn’t rent a cabin in any area of danger. In fact, the mountain resort where they decided to stay for that winter was declared quite safe. But fear not, I will be their horror movie antagonist, just as they deserve.

The summer before the Great Killing of Blue Mountain…

Patrizio and I decided to take a vacation to a warm weather country… It felt just like our honeymoon, so refreshing in the daytime and so cozy in the night. That night… I made a huge… no…the biggest mistake of my life.

At night, when the breeze was chilly while the land was warm, I begged Prosciutto for a walk. Just around the nearby foliage. The moon was out, it would be oh so romantic. Little did I realize some stupid fucking punks were playing with a gun not so far away.

We heard rustling, and the ever protective Prosciutto told me to stay here while he investigated. I waited… and waited… and waited… just when I thought I should check what’s happening I hear a loud gunshot. Not a handgun, maybe a shotgun… My blood ran cold. Patrizio did not bring a weapon. Neither of us did.

Running through the thicket I called out for him several times, the darkness too much for me to see anything clearly and clouds having covered the moon. “Patrizio! Patrizio! Patrizio!!”

At long last, I came across a clearing. A small meadow where the moonlight peaked and flowed like honey to the grass. And I saw red… following the trail I found it. His body.

“No… no no no no no no no…” Breathing heavy I approached him with just one glimmer of hope. I turned him around only to find the giant hole right above his chest. The tears were already flowing from my eyes as panic struck my body. I checked his pulse on his neck. Nothing. His wrist. Cold… I caressed his cheek and ran a hand through his matte blond hair asking him to wake up to open his eyes just one more time. But no response.

I’m not sure how long I lay there crying over his body as he grew colder under my touch, cradling him to my chest all alone in the darkness of the woods. It didn’t matter then who came to hunt me, shoot me, kill me. My one treasure was gone.

With my clothes covered in his blood I finally decided to call Pesci who would not believe me at first only to burst into tears himself. How can I tell him his Aniki is gone? How can I tell Patrizio’s Capo? His teammates? And not even an honorable death in battle…

Enraged, as soon as I got back home I demanded La Squadra help me locate my husband’s killer. Pesci tried to convince me to not pursue revenge but I was far too gone. For once, both Ghiaccio and Illuso took me seriously and helped me locate the culprits. With their intel I was able to formulate the perfect plan…

That winter…

His hometown’s sweetheart, Kevin, the local football team’s jock, his girlfriend Karen (who is obviously the cheerleader) and their best friend Ronnie decided to go to a mountain resort for skiing and snowboarding. But knowing these shitty tropes I knew they would do more than that. Immediately after they got to their cabins, I set my plan to motion.

I knew Kevin and Karen, those horny fucking teens, would try to have sex somewhere in the large mansion-like cabin they chose. It was pretty easy to orchestrate… Turn off the power and lure them to my traps.

As soon as I saw the two love birds enter the bathroom, the power was shut off, making the two of them confused. I made a noise near the bedroom and of course, Kevin wanting to show off, decided to go investigate on his own.

Once he was inside the bedroom I had Fire Woman lock the door…but wait! He noticed my stand! Immediately he called out his own. “Icicle Elegy!”

I jumped out of the closet with my butterfly knife before he turned around to face me. At that moment, his stand power was revealed to me as a large ice shield blocked my path. It bubbled him in as he was alarmed to find me, a small framed unknown person in a dark cloak. Looked like his stand was defense based, just like his position on the football team. But it was his unlucky day.

With one call to fire woman the giant dome of ice shield melted along with his sorry corpse right by the bedside table. But I didn’t want to grant him such a quick death. Retreating Fire Woman’s ability, I made sure he was conscious while stabbing him exactly 36 times in the chest. Big enough to compare to the hole in my heart. And the hole in Patrizio’s.

Once completed with his corpse, I made my way to the bathroom. I could hear Karen calling out. “Kevin…Kevin!” Does she know how it feels now to call for her lover and get no response? When I reached her in the bathroom, hidden from view by the walls, she was in nothing but a towel. How typical!

I thought of attacking right then and there, when I saw her look straight into me! Her eyes glowed and I realized this bitch has a fucking stand too!

“You Go, Girl sees you” she whispered. And I came out of hiding.

“You have weapons!” She suddenly screamed. Ah, so she could see through walls and other objects.

“Yes I do, Karen,” I told her, approaching with my butterfly knife when her stand, a humanoid robotic woman came to punch me. Dodging with Fire Woman, I ran to stab her, only for my body to freeze!

“YGG has touched your stand! Now you can’t move,” she giggled.

Had I been able to move, I’d have smirked. Foolish. Everyone knows not to touch Fire Woman. My heat slowly seeped into YGG through FW’s energy transfer, giving Karen a tingling sensation, then a burning one, before her arm caught fire entirely and YGG let go of FW.

As my body was released from paralysis, the inertia from my initial run allowed me to jump her. 36 more stabs and a perfect hole right between her scantily clad breasts.

Now the only one left was Ronnie. The one who went to the main resort building to check their reservations. The poor kid comes back to an empty, dark cabin with no one around. I hid in the living room as he entered with a flashlight. If those two bozos had stands, I guessed that so would he.

His stupid, nerdy looking face pissed me off even more as he discovered his best friends’ dead bodies with horror. You don’t know pain, I thought…

But he barely reacted and turned to face me… clapping as he did so.

“So you have figured it out…” he whispered.

“You recognize me?!” I asked, baffled with the turn of events.

He didn’t answer and only called his stand. “Final Confrontation!”

Suddenly, I was transported to the blasted night, relieving the same memories of running, searching, discovering. I heard his voice… Prosciutto calling out to me for help. “Focaccia! Focaccia! Focaccia!” The pain palpable in his once proud and booming voice. And I heard Ronnie too…

“My stand works with memories… the more pain you relive, the weaker you become… Focaccia!”

I sat helplessly in the same blood stained grass… or so I thought! Quickly summoning FW, I burned a part of my arm’s flesh, bringing me back to the cabin. It’s just an illusion!

“The only negation of emotional pain… is physical” I told him, it seemed he hadn’t fought with his stand too many times, as he looked shocked to see someone escape his stand’s memory trap.

Though weakened from the pain of reliving the same night, hearing Patrizio’s voice helped me gain the last bit of strength I had, grabbing Ronnie’s arms to melt the flesh and render them useless before doing the same to his legs. The last set of 36 stab wounds… and my husband was avenged.

#focaccia #jjba prosciutto #prosciutto #jjba x oc #prosciutto x focaccia #fics #angst #sid writes #selfship stuff #selfship au #selfship fic #oc x canon #focaccia stuff #focaccia fics

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shysneeze · 4 years ago

Text

Do Me a Favour | Fred Weasley x F!Reader

Description: Fred and the reader’s relationship seen through a series of favours

Warnings: its kind of angsty, brief description of injury (umbridge’s detention related) briefly battle of hogwarts related, miscommunication i guess

Tag-List : new form is here for anyone interested in being added

~* Fifth Year *~

“Do me a favour?”

It’s a question (Y/N) has been practicing internally for at least an hour, yet her voice still wobbles as she asks it aloud. Fred, lying back in the grass, soaking in the late summer sun, peeks open one eye to look up at her with a questioning brow.

“Yeah?”

“K-kiss me?”

A second passes before he reacts, sitting bolt upright in an instant, choking slightly on the gasped breath taken in the process. Regret floods her chest with a mortified ache and she finds herself dropping her eyes to the ground and picking at tufts of grass nervously.

“What?”

“It doesn’t matter,” She mumbles, “It’s stupid.”

“Kiss you?” He repeats, “L-like on the lips?”

“I shouldn’t have asked,” She argues embarrassedly, “I was just- I haven’t- it doesn’t matter.”

He blinks at her, confusion pulling his brows into a frown. Confused is probably the only word he can come up with to explain the whole thing, because quite frankly, it’s not everyday your childhood best friend asks you to kiss them. Then, much to (Y/N)’s further mortification, realisation flickers across his face.

“You’ve never kissed anyone?”

He asks it like he’s surprised, something that only goes to confuse (Y/N) herself. Yet she nods, too obviously embarrassed to even attempt to play it off as some elaborate joke or simply fib her way out of it.

“Really?” Fred asks, “And you want me to be your first kiss?”

“I just want it out the way,” She explains hastily, “Don’t go getting big headed about it… it’s just a favour.”

He’s silent, the most silent she’s ever heard him before even, and it does nothing but add to her growing concern that in one fell swoop, she’s managed to ruin sixteen years of friendship. She’s on the verge of what is bound to be an incoherent string of apologies when he finally answers.

“Okay.”

Her breath catches with something between relief and sheer panic.

“Really?”

“What sort of friend would I be if I denied you such a simple favour?”

‘Simple’ is perhaps an underestimation of what she’s asking, and she can see the nervous way he licks his lips despite the grin he throws on instantly to disguise it. She’s gotten this far though, too far to chicken out now with his warm hand cupping one of her cheeks as he leans closer.

The sun has brought out millions of freckles across his pale cheeks, and for the first time she’s so close she could count them. Part of her, a side of her she’s never met before, thinks about tracing her finger across them, connecting them like constellations. Something in her chest twitches at the thought.

“You ready?”

“Don’t make it sound so clinical,” She mumbles.

“Listen, beggars can’t be choosers.”

She smiles, glad for the familiarity of his teasing. It has some of her nerves dissipating, her lungs expanding with a light, freeing breath before she nods.

He’s tentative for only a moment, their lips meeting in the lightest of kisses until she’s instinctively pulling him closer, fingers curled around a handful of his gryffindor tie. He lets out a surprised sound from deep in his throat, though he doesn’t pull back.

In fact, if he knew kissing his best friend might feel this good, he wouldn’t have asked so many questions before doing so in the first place. At the feeling of her grip slipping from his tie, he feels his heart dropping disappointedly, chasing her lips subconsciously as she pulls back.

He watches her contemplative expression, a good distraction from the racing of his heart in his chest and the unexplainable urge to kiss her again. She gives him a wide-eyed look, eyes darting in every direction as she navigates whatever millions of questions are running around her head.

Then, she clears her throat, nodding as she begins to get to her feet and leaving him dazed on the grass with reddening cheeks.

“Thanks,” She says, “I owe you one.”

~ *Sixth Year* ~

“(Y/N),” Fred exclaims happily, portrait door swinging shut behind him as (Y/N) looks up from her book to meet him with a frown, “Just who I was looking for,”

“That’s never good,” She says, slowly closing her book, “When am I busting you out of detention this time?”

“You wound me,” He retorts before dropping onto the couch beside her with, pressing the back of his hand against his forehead with a dramatic flair, “Me? Detention?”

His head lands haphazardly on her lap and she looks down at him with an amused look, shaking her head in teasing disbelief. His lips twitch into a grin, one that (Y/N) knows is just the beginning of what she doubts will be a simple request.

“Do me a favour?”

For a split second, she freezes, a slight shiver crawling up her back at the question, which little under a year ago saw them kissing by the lake. He holds her eyes in a knowing gaze that causes her to nod cautiously.

“Okay…”

“Come to the ball with me?”

Her brows lift into a surprised expression.

“What?”

“The Yule Ball,” He explains, sitting up now to face her properly, “I need a date.”

She gives him a long, questioning, look, searching for some tell-tale signs of a Fred Weasley joke in the makings. Sceptically, she narrows her eyes.

“Why?”

“You owe me one.”

She bristles imperceptibly, gulping at the knowing look that swims in eyes and twitches the corners of his lips into a small smirk.

“That and I left it all a bit last minute, you see,”

She can’t quite decide whether it’s hurt or relief that tugs at her chest at the revelation, that he’s only asking as a last resort. It’s a much more simple version of the scenario she’s been building in her head since he first asked his question, one with far less feelings to get more attached to.

“What if I’ve already said yes to someone else?”

“Well, I have it on good authority that you’ve been turning people down for weeks now,” He raises a brow, “What’s that about? Holding onto hope of being asked by someone special?”

The teasing tone he’s going for comes out strained in a way (Y/N) has never heard from him before and she frowns for a second at it before rolling her eyes.

“No, I’m not,” She answers, “I just didn’t feel like going with them.”

“So, what you’re saying is that you don’t have a date?” He says, “And neither do I… how convenient.”

She lets out a short scoff, shaking her head in disbelief at the pleading puppy-dog look he’s managed to perfect in just a few seconds. She exhales a loud reluctant sigh that has the corners of his mouth pulling into a smile.

“Is that a yes?”

“Hmm,” She nods, “I guess,”

“How romantic.”

“Ah well, as a wise boy once said, beggars can’t be choosers.” She manages a smirk of her own, “Perhaps next time you’ll find yourself a date sooner than a week before the dance.”

Something in Fred’s face drops for only a split second, and not even their years of friendship helps her read it. It’s only a moment before he’s disguising it again with a lopsided grin and a playful shove.

“Shut up,”

~* Seventh Year *~

Fred’s finger tips are warm as they trace the red-raw words scratched into the back of (Y/N)’s hand, lookin from it up to her eyes with a look she knows means a lecture. She sniffles slightly, twisting away from him to plan her counter argument.

“Before you say anything,” She starts, “Your hand is just as bad so don’t start on my detentions.”

“I wasn’t going... “ He sighs, “Well, I was, but you’re right. I’m just trying to figure out how to get the pink hag back for it.”

“Don’t do anything stupid... I’m fine.”

Fred let’s put a disagreeing grumble.

“Fred,” She says warningly.

“I know,” He breathes out reluctantly, “I just worry when it’s you.”

She turns back to face him, hoping to catch whatever expression has followed such a revelation, but she’s too late, finding him instead twisting away from her to search through his bedside table drawer. He returns with a small jar of healing balm, what she’d come to his dorm for in the first place, or at least that’s what she’s telling herself.

“What happened this time?”

“I missed curfew again,” (Y/N) mumbles, hissing in a breath when the balm touches the open wound, “I was at the library trying to teach myself the bloody defence course since she won’t- ouch.”

“Done,” He assures with a soft smile, “Wuss.”

“It’s not that when you’re the injured one,” She teases, though she’s not feeling quite up to it, “I can’t believe this is how we’re spending our last year.”

“I know.”

She’s not sure what’s causing the tears that have welled in her eyes though, certainly not from the sting of the healing balm or even the general pain from the scar itself. Yet she can’t help the tears that have begun to fall from her lashes and slip down her cheeks.

“Hey-” Fred looks up, brown eyes wide in surprise, “What’s going on?”

“Sorry,” (Y/N) hiccups, wiping her eyes hastily, “I don’t know why i’m crying.”

“Take your time,” Fred says, rubbing soothingly at her back, “It’s okay,”

“It’s all just a bit much isn’t it.” She manages after a moment, “Newts are hard enough but now w-we’ve got this absolute psychopath of a defence teacher who doesn’t actually teach, we’re training to fight deatheaters and- it’s just a bit much.”

“I know what you mean,” He admits solemnly, “It’s pretty messed up.”

“Sorry, it’s stupid.” She shakes her head, “Everyones going through the same thing-”

“Don’t do that.” He frowns, “That doesn’t mean you don’t get to be upset about it, (Y/N).”

“I know but-”

She hears him click his tongue against his teeth disapprovingly, and she can picture him rolling his eyes though she doesn’t have time to see for herself, not with his arm around her shoulder as he curls her into his chest.

She freezes, as if this is something bizarre, as if they’ve not shared hugs a million times growing up. This is protective though, like in his arms, for even just a moment, he’s protecting her from everything wrong in the world.

“Fred?” She sniffles against his chest, “Do me a favour?”

“Anything, (Y/N).”

“Just- just hold me for a bit.”

His breath catches, heat blossoming in his chest as he pulls her closer, running his fingers through her hair in a soothing motion.

“Of course.”

~* Post-Hogwarts*~

“Do me a favour?”

(Y/N), seconds from falling asleep, fit perfectly between Fred and the back of the sofa, peers up at him with bleary eyes and soft smile.

“Of course.” She exhales tiredly.

“Be with me.”

She freezes, replaying it over and over in her head, not entirely sure she’s not dreaming. At her silence, he lets out a sharp noise that sends a jolt of panic into her body, waking her up well and truly. She lets out a choked sound as his arms unravel from her waist and a chill hits her as he begins to pull back.

“What?”

“It’s late-” He begins to backtrack.”I’ve got to open up shop tomorro-”

“What did you just say, Fred?”

He gives her a look that's almost pained.

“Don’t make me say it again.” He pleads, “Let’s just forget about it-”

“You… You like me?”

He lets out a sound close to a pained laugh that lodges itself in his throat as he twists awkwardly away from her. A deep crimson colour has begun to creep up his neck and he pulls nervously at his shirt collar in a meek attempt to combat it.

“I’ve not been very subtle, (Y/N).”

“Clearly you have!” (Y/N) bursts, only shrinking with the realisation that, just down the hall, George is sleeping in his room. “Since when?”

“Since you kissed me,” He exclaims exasperatedly, “Favour bloody one.”

She stands, suddenly hit by the need to pace, to move around as she deals with all the questions that race through her head. Gulping, Fred watches her move, suddenly afraid that he’s made this favour their last.

Then, she comes to a stop.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Excuse me?”

“An idiot,” (Y/N) repeats, “You made me feel like the last resort for the yule ball, but you’re telling me that was serious?”

“Hey,” He frowns, “It was serious right until you started giving me this look like I was insane and I had to cover my arse somehow-”

“Shut up,”

She drops herself onto his lap, cupping his cheeks in her hands and holding his face there, inches from her own. He watches, frozen in awe, as her eyes dance across his face. She’s tracing his freckles again, close enough to be mesmerised all over again.

“Since we’re pretty terrible with signals,” She exhales, “When I kiss you now… it’s not just a favour.”

“Thank Merlin for that.”

~* The Battle of Hogwarts*~

Hogwarts has never felt so different.

Standing here now, it’s hard for (Y/N) to imagine these are the same hallways they once walked down, that she and Fred used to sneak through in the dark for midnight snacks and linger outside of before teachers arrived.

Tucked into an alcove of the corridor, Fred and (Y/N) watch the havoc unfolding, keenly aware of what lies ahead, the war that’s been looming over them all year. He holds her hand in his own, squeezing it as reassuringly as he can manage as she chews nervously on her bottom lip.

“It’s going to be okay, right?”

“Of course, Love,” He smiles, lifting a hand to gently caress her cheek, “We’ll be fine.”

She nods, melting into his warm touch. But nothing eases the weight that has settled on her chest, the anxious feeling that is telling her everything is about to go wrong. She searches his eyes for something familiar to cling onto.

“I don’t like us not sticking together,” Fred admits quietly, “We should be where we can keep an eye on each other.”

“I promised Madam Pomfrey I’d help with the injured,” (Y/N) admits sadly, “And you should be with George.”

“I know,” He breathes, “I just don’t like it,”

She smiles sadly in agreement.

“Me either,” She admits, “but I’ll be fine… I’ve always had better defence marks than you anyway,”

Much to (Y/N)’s relief, Fred laughs, bringing back a sense of normality, even if just for a moment. The hand on her cheeks pinches her playfully and his brown eyes roll with a teasing glint to them.

“Look at you, joking in a crisis,” He teases, “I’m so proud,”

“I’ve known you long enough to have picked up some sort of ill-timed sense of humour,”

He lets out a short chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief.

“I love you, (Y/N),”

“I love you too,”

He leans in to capture her lips in a gentle kiss, a practiced art that has a well-known warmth flooding (Y/N)’s chest. Yet, as he pulls back, he leaves something bitter sweet behind, the ache of a goodbye kiss.

“I should go,” He admits, “Before we end up caught up in the crowds, right?”

“Yeah,”

“I’ll see you once it’s all over,” He grins, “When we’ve won,”

It takes a moment for (Y/N) to convince herself to let go of his hand and feels suddenly cold once it’s gone. He’s turning away with one last wave when she calls him back, heart hammering in her chest.

“Do me a favour?”

He pauses before breaking into a small smile.

“Always, Love.”

“Don’t die.”

“I promise.”

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley imagines #fred x reader #fred imagine #fred imagines #fred x you #fred weasley x you #reader insert #fred weasley angst #fred weasley fluff #fred and george #fred weasley

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lifeofkaze · 4 years ago

Note

Hi love!

Sorry for bothering you, but could you do something like really cute and fluffy between Charlie Weasley and reader where he's all shy and delicate maybe teaching her about dragons and their characteristics pls? Like, something that feels really intimate, you know?

I absolutely love your writing and I believe that you could make justice to the character.

Take care darling,

-A

Thank you for the request, loveliest anon! This is actually the first fic request I’ve ever gotten and I’m so happy you like my stuff so much, this makes me very very soft.

This fluff piece was just what I needed to get my mojo back hopefully. Please let me know if this is like what you had in mind - I for one had a lot of fun with it! <3

***

Favourites

Charlie Weasley x Reader

Word Count: ~ 2.800

As a Care of Magical Creatures test covering dragons of all things is imminent and you were too distracted in class to pay proper attention, you know just who to turn to for help.

“You want me to do what?”

Charlie Weasley blinked at you in confusion. He could feel his blood rushing in his ears as he looked at you standing in front of him, clutching you Care for Magical Creatures book to your chest as you raised your eyebrows at him.

“I asked if you could help me studying for the test next week?” you repeated your question, brow slightly furrowed. “I can’t keep track of all these dragon traits and who would know them better than you?”

Charlie felt the heat creeping up on his face. Of course, the test. It was all he had been able to think about ever since Professor Kettleburn had announced the topic; all except you of course.

He tried to formulate a coherent answer that wouldn’t make him look like a blabbering fool in front of you, but the way the dappled sunlight that broke through the trees reflected in your hair distracted him more than he cared to admit.

So he resorted to a weak nod. “Uhm, sure, I’d love to. See you at six in the library?” he managed to stammer out eventually.

A beautiful smile formed on your face as you nodded in enthusiasm. “Sounds great, see you there!”

Charlie watched as you swished around and walked back to your friends, who greeted you with giggles and whispers as they glanced in his direction. You gave one of them a playful swat on the arm, before your clear laugh carried over to him onto the warm summer air and made his heart clench.

He knew all of his dragons by heart, of course he did; this test was the first he hadn’t bothered studying for at all. But now, he suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to prepare himself.

The light of the sun had already started to turn into the beautiful golden shade that heralded the end of a warm autumn day as you skittered into the library. You were a little bit late for your study session with Charlie, and the exertion from running all the way from your Common Room flushed your cheeks slightly red. Your friends just hadn’t let you go, all of them just as excited for what they called ‘your dragon date’ as you were. Not that you’d ever tell them that.

You found Charlie sitting at a table near the windows and your breath caught for a moment as you took in the warm light that washed around his frame; it was making his ginger hair glow like fire, the only vibrant speck of colour in this dusty old room full of books.

He had his nose buried in a big, leather-bound tome, his eyes darting over the pages frantically; you noticed how the tip of his tongue stuck out between his lips in concentration. He was so immersed in his reading, that he only noticed you approaching as you sat down next to him. Jumping in shock at your sudden appearance, he almost knocked over his ink bottle, only catching it at the last second before its dark, inky content could wash over the thin pages of his book.

“Oh, you’re here already, I didn’t even notice you until now.” His freckled face had flushed a shade darker than usual as he put his ink bottle back into its position and made room for you on the table.

“I’d rather say I’m here finally,” you responded, feeling a little bit guilty at making Charlie wait. “But I see that you started without me.”

He hurriedly closed the book. “No, I was just reading up on some facts about Welsh Greens so I have them sharp in my mind,” he explained, “in case you have questions, you know?”

It was only now that your eyes took in the numerous heaps of books piled up on your table. “First question,” you said as you ran your fingers over the backs of the tomes stacked on top of each other. “I thought the test was about dragons native to Europe and not every single one in existence,” you pulled out a particularly old looking book containing myths and fables, “and beyond.”

You silently counted the numbers of books Charlie had amassed and your eyes went wide. “Charlie, these must be all the books about dragons in the whole library,” you laughed, giggling at the flustered expression of the boy beside you.

“Well, not all the books,” he clarified sheepishly. “There are quite a few in the Restricted Section and then there’s the two I have up in my dorm but forgot to bring and- “

You cut off his rambling by gently touching his arm; he shut up almost instantly, glancing nervously down to where your hand was lying. “It’s alright, it was just a joke.”

“Of course,” Charlie muttered slightly embarrassed. What was wrong with him?

He watched as you pulled your notes from your bag; they were rather sparse compared to the almost three scrolls of parchment he had scribbled down himself.

“Where do you want to start?”

You hummed to yourself as you considered your choices. A warm, fuzzy feeling spread inside Charlie’s chest as you drew your lips into a pensive pout and tapped your index finger against it.

Finally, a neat stack of white flashcards, that lay hidden behind a book on Sea Serpents, caught your attention. You reached over Charlie and pulled them towards you.

Your mouth dropped open as you flicked through them; on every one of the laminated cards was an extensive profile of every kind of dragon imaginable. The descriptions were written out in a neat, accurate hand that looked nothing like the careless scrawl you’d seen on Charlie’s class notes.

But what took your breath away were the detailed drawings below the text. They were done by pencil and although they didn’t move like magical pictures often did, they were so lively as if they only waited to pounce off the paper and take into the air.

Charlie watched you apprehensively as your fingers traced the outline of what appeared to be a Swedish Short-snout. He felt his heart beat faster at the soft, admiring look in your eyes as you turned towards him.

“Did you do these yourself?”

He nodded in response. “It’s hard to find decent descriptions all in one place,” he explained quietly. “I don’t know how accurate the sketches are though; I’ve never seen a dragon in real life.”

You flashed him a radiant smile that had his heart rate pick up considerably. “I don’t care if they’re realistic; they’re brilliant!”

Encouraged by your excitement, he took the flashcards out of your hands and fanned them out, their blank backs facing you. “Then I’d suggest we start with them; pick one!”

Running the fingers along the cards twice, you finally settled on one and drew it out of his grasp. Charlie’s freckled face lit up as he saw which one you had chosen.

“The Ukrainian Ironbelly,” he exclaimed, “my favourite!”

All of his former shyness was suddenly forgotten; this was his prime discipline.

“The Ironbelly is native to the Ukraine, as its name suggests, obviously. It’s considered the largest dragon species in existence with an immense wingspan, long talons and scales that are said to be harder to pierce than steel. It’s name stems from the metallic grey colour of his underside and ever since one particular large specimen carried off a whole sailing ship in the late 18th century, they are under strict observation by wizarding authorities.”

You did your best to jot down the information Charlie dumped on you with impressive speed but there was no way you could keep up with his excited ramblings. So you resorted to listening to him as he lectured you about feeding habits, hunting methods and the average temperature of the flames an Ironbelly could produce.

He sighed wistfully as he paused for breath. “They’re amazing.”

You couldn’t hide your smile at his dreamy expression as you picked out your next card from the stack. “Okay, how about this one?”

The dragon it showed had ridges running along its back, ending in a nasty, arrow-shaped spike at the tip of its tail. It barred its teeth at you in a vicious snarl.

“That’s my favourite, the Hebridean Black,” he repeated his words from before, positively bouncing with energy this time around.

You glanced at the card you two had just worked your way through. “I thought the Ukrainian Ironbelly was your favourite?” you teased him.

Charlie’s bouncing stopped instantly as he blushed bright red; you hadn’t meant to bring him down and felt sorry all of a sudden. So you propped the card against one of the book piles and turned to him.

“So, tell me more about it.”

Relieved to be able to tread on secure ground again, Charlie immediately recounted all the facts about one of the two dragon breeds native to the British Isles to you.

You continued in this fashion; your pulled a random card from the stash and Charlie would tell you everything he knew about it. He grew more animated with every new flashcard; as it turned out, every dragon you talked about was his favourite.

Seeing him so caught up in his favourite subject had a warmth spread in your chest and the smile on your lips never vanished even once. You had given up on writing Charlie’s words down about four cards ago and were merely staring at him explaining to you everything about these fantastic beasts that made up all of his dreams and musings.

His excitement quickly spread to you and you found yourself hanging onto his every word. But the more you were listening to him, the more you found your concentration shift from the dragons you were discussing to the boy beside you.

Your head propped on your hand, you admired how recounting scale colours and preferred environments of Romanian Longhorns brought a twinkle to his blue eyes and how his contagious laugh had you chuckle at the idea that people would confuse a Hungarian Horntail with a Norwegian Ridgeback.

The dimples forming in his freckled cheeks as he smiled at you were the exact reason why you had needed help with studying for this test in the first place. When you had talked about dragons in class, the eager smile and the slight scrunch of his nose as he scribbled down every single word Professor Kettleburn had to spare had left you breathless and unable to concentrate on anything but the butterflies dancing in your stomach.

The pile of flash cards had dwindled down until only a few more were left. Your breath caught in your throat as you turned around your next pick; the pictured showed a slender dragon directly from the front. It’s wings were outstretched and it seemed to be staring directly at you out of wide, pupil-less eyes. It was the only drawing so far that was coloured.

Your finger traced the subtle colour gradient rippling over its pearly scales as Charlie looked over to see which one was next.

“The Antipodean Opaleye,” he murmured, taking in your fascinated expression, “it’s singularly coloured scales and eyes are the stuff of legends.”

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered, trying to imagine how the scales of a real life Opaleye might shimmer in the sunlight.

“Not as beautiful as you,” Charlie suddenly blurted out. The words had fallen from his lips before he’d even had a chance to stop them.

Both of you froze as what he had said sank into your consciousness. You couldn’t believe your ears and were half sure that your mind must have played a trick on you.

You carefully glanced over to Charlie out of the side of your eyes; he looked incredulous and you could watch the colour of his face turning from ghostly white to a deep, vivid scarlet that clashed with his ginger hair in a matter of seconds.

Feeling your own cheeks starting to blush at the unexpected compliment, you desperately were looking for something to say to take the shock out of his widened eyes. But your mind wasn’t working properly anymore, so all you managed was a meek “Wow, uhm, thank you Charlie, that’s really sweet.”

It was apparent your words didn’t help his flustered situation as he covered his face with his hands and groaned “I can’t believe I said that out loud; I’m such an idiot.”

You didn’t know what to do to help him; you felt utterly flattered and confused at the same time. You thought about putting your hand on his arm to reassure him what he had said actually made you happy, but paused halfway, not quite daring to touch him again.

Still unsure of what to do, you got up and picked up one of the books he had used to illustrate the facts on his flashcards.

“I’d better get going, I guess,” you stammered without looking at the wretched boy sitting at the table next to you, “thank you so much for helping me, I think I’ll manage the rest on my own. Can I borrow that book though?”

He didn’t raise his face from his hands, but nodded anyways. You felt bad for leaving him like that, but your head was spinning and you desperately needed to sort out your thoughts.

But seeing Charlie’s slumped frame sitting at the table, all the bubbly excitement from before completely drained from him, tugged at your heartstrings so hard it almost hurt. So instead of turning around and leaving, you drew a deep breath, gathered your courage and stepped behind him, placing a light kiss on his cheek.

You could feel his shoulders tense and his breath hitch as your hair tickled his jaw and were glad he couldn’t see the deep blush on your cheeks as you straightened up, picked up your bag and his book and hurried out of the library with a racing heart, too afraid to turn around once more.

Charlie and you hadn’t spoken again after what had happened in the library. It had taken him quite some time to be able to think properly again after you had left; he had just sat at his table, hand on his cheek where you had kissed him, staring into nothingness, the peachy smell of your hair still hanging in the air.

Even though the thought of how soft your lips had felt on your cheek had been the most prominent thing in his mind, he had passed his test with flying colours; some things just couldn’t be erased from his mind, no matter what was happening around him.

He had just returned to his dorm after a particularly tiring Quidditch practise when he saw it lying on his bed, propped up against his head bord; the book you had borrowed from him to finish studying on your own.

For a brief moment, he wondered how you had managed to get it up here, when he noticed something white sticking out of the pages. Curious, he picked up the book and flicked it open.

Even without looking, he knew what chapter it was you had marked with whatever you had put in there; he had read this book more times than he could remember. It was the chapter on the Antipodean Opaleye; he grimaced at the memory of when he had last thought about this particular dragon.

A white flashcard was stuck between the pages, its laminated surface flashing as Charlie turned it around to read it.

A big smile stole onto his face as he saw the photograph of you laughing and waving at him that you had stuck on the front side. His eyes swept over the lines written in your feminine hand and his smile grew even wider as he read the ‘special characteristics’ section:

It has to be remarked, that this particular specimen was able to pass her test with full marks.

He was glad to hear his blurted out compliment hadn’t affected your marks in the end. He sighed wistfully, when he noticed the very small, scribbled note at the very end of the card; it wasn’t as neatly written as the rest, almost as if your hands had shaken while writing it down.

Greatest weakness: While not many weaknesses are recorded of this specimen, it is said that it can be easily tamed by ginger-haired dragon trainers in the making. Whether these rumours are true, remains to be determined.

Charlie’s mouth dropped open as he read the last section over and over again, not daring to believe what he thought they said. But after the tenth time, he finally allowed the butterflies that had been fluttering in his stomach to spread into the rest of his body, his smile growing into the widest grin as he tucked the flashcard carefully into the book again.

This time, he was sure; this one was his favourite.

Tagging: @weasleysandwheezes

#harry potter #hphm #hogwarts mystery #charlie weasley #charlie weasley x reader #L writes #by request

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perpetualoverthinker · 3 years ago

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Books and Bagels — Pope Heyward

not my gif!

Summary: It was only fitting that Pope Heyward would fall for the girl at the library.

Warnings: none—pure fluff

WC: 1k

A/N: This is my first time writing for Pope, so I hope I did him justice! Also! this is for @pogueslandia's 1.5k celebration/writing challenge (congrats again!!). Had a ton of fun doing this !

prompts: “I have the feeling that you’re trying not to kiss me and I give you permission to just do it.” and "B gets so nervous about their dinner date with A that they accidentally make enough food to feed ten people"

You had just started volunteering at the Kildare County Public Library for the summer when you first saw Pope. He had walked through the front doors with a stack of books in his hands as you were shelving near the entrance.

The librarians working the front desk greeted him warmly, recognition washing over their faces. You watched as he chatted with the women, leaning on the counter and flashing a charming smile. Cute, you thought to yourself.

They soon pointed over to the history section, where you were currently shelving, and you quickly busied yourself with the books on your cart, hoping they hadn’t caught you staring.

You heard him walk up to the stack, your cart positioned between you two. You each took turns stealing glances at each other, Pope’s easy charm he had shown before now replaced with an endearing shyness. You could feel a smile tug at your lips as you noted the shift in his demeanor.

“Hey,” he turned to look at you, book mid-shelve, “I think that’s the book I’m looking for.” Pope pointed at the book in your hand.

“Oh.” You held the book in front of you, reading the title, Lost Treasures. “You going treasure hunting or something?” you joked, handing the book over to him.

“Uh, yeah actually,” he chuckled as you tilted your head, your smile still present despite the confusion on your face. “It’s a long story.”

You turned your attention back to your books, nodding skeptically. “Well, I’d love to hear it sometime.”

“Oh, uh y-yeah, sure…” You grinned, amused by the boy’s flustering.

“I’m y/n, by the way,” you said, continuing to place books on the shelf in front of you.

“Pope.” He pointed to himself, albeit a little awkwardly. It only made you like him more.

“I’m here Wednesdays and Fridays, y’know. If you ever wanna tell me that story of yours…” you said while pushing your cart out of the stack. You glanced back at him one more time before walking off, biting your lip and smiling to yourself.

It was safe to say that Pope would be there again.

---------

The following weeks, Pope came into the library every Wednesday and Friday. He would pretend to browse the shelves or do research, when, in actuality, he would just follow you around as you shelved your books (sometimes even helping you). You would laugh at his jokes and he would find little ways to impress you—his mind filled with an abundance of different facts and anecdotes.

One of these days, you were in the classic literature section, Pope handing you each book as you found its rightful place on the shelf. The two of you were talking about your favorite classics as you worked.

“I’m just saying, his books are mind-numbingly boring,” you said, taking a book from Pope’s hand.

“What are you talking about? Hemingway wrote some great books!”

“Literally nothing happens in them. Old Man and the Sea? Just about a guy catching a fish.”

“It’s not just about that. It’s about perseverance and the nature of life.”

“Yeah, yeah. He was kind of a dick, though.”

Pope laughed and clicked his tongue. “Yeah, can’t argue with that,” he conceded, shaking his head.

You held your hand out for the next book, but Pope was no longer handing them to you. Turning your head towards him, he was looking at you, nervously fidgeting with his hand.

“Everything good, Pope?”

“Uh, yeah.” He paused. “Can I ask you something?”

You could feel your heartbeat quicken, hopeful for what he might say next. You had been waiting for him to ask you out for a week, almost resorting to just asking him yourself. You steadied your breath, answering as nonchalantly as you could. “Sure.”

“I was wondering if you wanted to-”

“Yes,” you blurted, probably definitely a little too quickly. “Shit, wait,” you clapped your hand over your mouth, “I’ll let you finish first.” You nodded for him to continue, trying to contain your giddiness.

Pope smiled widely. “y/n, would you like to have dinner with me?”

“I’d love to.”

---------

Pope had told you to meet him at the beach. Your body was abuzz, thrumming at the thought of what he had planned for the night. You stumbled your way down the hill that met the sandy beach and spotted him next to a blanket, covered with food. It was enough to feed ten people.

“Wow, Pope,” you said as you walked up to him. “You really went all out, huh?” You surveyed the blanket, spotting an array of cheese and crackers, pasta, and fruit. You noticed a particular spread, causing you to look at the boy, head tilted and eyebrows raised. “Bagels?”

Pope laughed sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wasn’t quite sure what you liked…”

You moved forward to sit cross-legged on the blanket, smiling up at the boy reassuringly. “It’s perfect.”

You and Pope sat there for hours, talking about whatever the two of you felt like and feasting on the absurd amount of food. You were laughing hysterically while taking a bite out of your bagel, smearing cream cheese on the side of your mouth.

As you tried to catch your breath, Pope reached out and wiped the smear away with his thumb, causing your breath to hitch. You both looked at each other, tension crackling through the air.

“I have the feeling that you’re trying not to kiss me and I give you permission to just do it.”

His eyes widened. “Oh, o-okay. Mhm, yup, yeah I’ll just-”

“Pope.”

“Right.” His lips met yours, his shoulders softening as you brought your hands to rest on his face. Pope braced his hands on either side of you, leaning forward and accidentally tipping your cup of water. Ignoring it, he mumbled a quick ‘whoops’ into your lips, causing the two of you to laugh in between kisses.

#liane’s 1.5k writing challenge #pope heyward #pope x you #pope x reader #outer banks fic #outer banks #outer banks imagine #obx fanfiction #obx imagine

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thefanficmonster · 4 years ago

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Just Another One

Sequel to: ‘A Little Bit Of Honesty’

Corpse Husband x Actress!Reader (Female)

Warnings: Angst, Heartbreak, Mention of bad past relationships, Swearing

Genre: Angst, Romance, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: They keep proving each other right in the most wrong ways possible. They each want to be guarded even if that means the other will be hurt. Maybe that’s what they want - to hurt one another because they’ve already hurt each other once before.

Requested by the lovely readers who enjoyed the previous fic ‘A Little Bit Of Honesty’. Sorry for the large time gap between the posting of the two fics but I still hope you guys will take the time to read it and if so I hope you enjoy it! Love you all with all my heart, Vy ❤

When you go out of your way to avoid leaving the house your options of entertainment are severely limited and you can’t blame anyone or anything but yourself for it. Today, I wouldn’t have gone out of my apartment even if I was one of those people who frequent the outdoors seeing as how the sky is trying to flood the Earth with all this nonstop rain. It does set a mood for a perfect night in but when you spend all your nights in doing the same thing over and over again, the atmosphere is practically meaningless. And so I ‘ve decided to resort to channel surfing as though I’ll find something interesting on TV that I haven’t yet seen on one of my social media timelines.

I pass several cooking channels on my journey, making a mental note of their individual numbers in case I don’t stumble across anything capable of better distracting me from my boredom and loneliness that’s slowly starting to creep in. I pass by a few movie channels showing teenage romcoms as if to celebrate the start of summer so you can imagine how quickly I moved on from those. Then come the celebrity channels which can often get a laugh out of me because of how pathetic and unbelievably ridiculous they are. And so, I stick around one where there’s a broadcast on a movie showing that’s happening tonight in LA. Oddly enough, despite my anxiety, going to a movie showing has always been on my list of things I’d want to do. This can be considered living vicariously or rubbing salt into the wound that I’ll probably never go because my anxiety and fear of being recognized is too severe. Either way I stick around to watch it.

And man do I regret it now looking at several different angels of a couple of actors entering the venue where they are to be photographed and asked questions by the mob of paparazzi that’s gathered due to the massive event. That in and of itself doesn’t sound - and really isn’t - so bad. However, it’s important to note that the actress in this duo is Y/N. Y/N L/N. My Y/N....shit, sorry, I mean my FRIEND Y/N, her arm linked with whatever-the-fuck-his-name-is who is holding an umbrella above the both of them, shielding them from the downpour of rain that is also taking place in LA apparently.

“The two were seen entering the venue earlier this evening, looking particularly cozy in each other’s presence if I do say so myself. The rain probably worked nicely in their favor.“ The first reporter says, her teasing tone of voice sending chills of anger down my spine as I glare at the screen, hands balled in fists, jaw clenched - all my body’s instinctive reactions to what is being shown to me. I know I technically have no right to behave or feel this way, in fact I should be fucking happy for Y/N and her successful career and the progress in her love life. But damn it how can I?! I was so damn close to kissing this girl! I was so fucking close to falling in another trap, tripping and landing in the embrace of another liar and user, another girl who switches partners more often than shoes. How could I’ve been so reckless to get so close to her even platonically? How did we become close enough for me to 1) show her my face; 2) start inviting her over to my apartment regularly; and how didn’t I notice the kind of messed up person she was all that time.

She was all sweet and flirting and shit a week or so ago and now she’s doing the exact same thing with him! The cameras are capturing them perfectly: every laugh, every exchange of a knowing look or nod, ever smack to his arm when he tells a joke. But what bothers me most is the many times he’s wrapped his arm around her to pull her closer. Not just for pictures, but just because the fucker felt like it! And Y/N doesn’t seem to mind it at all.

“They have been the talk of the town recently, so while they could just be adding fuel to the fire, they could also have been caught by the flame and ‘caught feelings’ as they say. Regardless these two are a view we’d like to see more often.“ The other reporter says and that’s the final straw.

In one swift motion I turn the TV off and throw the remote across the room. It hits the wall and falls to the ground in several pieces, broken by the force of the impact. Just like I am broken by the force of the impact of these news. I don’t know which is worse: the fact that I fell for her and almost let her know it; the fact that she’s just another member of the club I don’t want anywhere near my life; or the fact that I can’t believe it.

Yeah that’s right - one foolish part of me refuses to believe that’s she’d do such a thing. I think that’s the same part which is still in awe of her so you can bet I ignore that part the majority of the time.

She is just another one. Not the one. Having been hurt before doesn’t mean she won’t hurt me or anyone else she’s gonna be with. Hurt people hurt people.

And damn has she hurt me, probably without knowing a damn thing. How selfish can you be, Y/N? How selfish can you really get? And how much am I going to allow you to hurt me?

* * *

“Thank you so much, Andrew. I would’ve died on the spot of anxiety if I was on my own.“ I say to my best friend who is currently sitting next to me on a park bench, in a tux, eating a cheeseburger. I too am still in my gown and am also gorging on a cheeseburger of my own.

“Don’t mention it. Us anxious people need to stick together.“ He bumps his shoulder against mine, stealing a small genuine smile from me, “Plus I couldn’t not come with you. You know how much I like a good rumor.“

I scoff, “Of course you do, but then again there was no need to add to what the media has already made a whole-ass ship out of.” I roll my eyes and take another bite. My appetite hasn’t been in its best condition so I’m only eating this under Andrew’s orders. I have no idea how people can ship us romantically, he’s the definition of an older - and very bossy - brother to me. I wish I could tell each and every single one of those girls who hate me because I’ve ‘stolen their man’ that I’d most likely be their sister in law rather than man snatcher, seeing as how my relationship with Andrew is so sibling-like.

That’s because we’re too alike, no one gets that. People play the ‘opposites attract’ car more often than I consider rational. But then again when they see a couple like Andrew and I - who are basically the same person in different bodies - they suddenly think we’re super compatible. Trust me, we’re not. And everyone who’s been on set with us will tell you the same.

“What can I say...“ he shrugs, smirking at me, “I like the fun. I bet Becca doesn’t though.“

I can’t help but huff. Andrew is the only one I’ve ever openly expressed my frustrations with Rebecca to. He was super helpful on the subject, seeing as how he can relate - many partners of his have tried to use him, some of which even succeeded. He’s more than qualified to school me on the topic but it turned more into sharing bad experiences. One of which was that instance back at Corpse’s apartment.

“And neither does Corpse I suppose.“ As though he’s read my mind, he pokes the hurt spot, pouring salt in the wound causing me to visibly cringe as though the pain was physical - because it was, I felt it in my chest and in my gut, a sharp stab of guilt and regret.

Why did I let it come to that? Why did I let us get so close? How did I not think of the consequences?

“I don’t care if he does or doesn’t.“ My hand automatically reaches for the pocket of the jeans I’m not even wearing in search of a cigarette. Not that I’d be able to light one even if I had them on me - Andrew would smack it out of my hand before I could even take a single puff.

He has the audacity to laugh, “You’re such a bad liar, Y/N.”

That’s all he needs to say really - that’s enough to make me feel seen and understood. Though that’s not always a good thing. I often times wish he couldn’t read me so well. Better said: I wish I didn’t let myself be so readable, you know. I’m just glad he’s the one who sees me because if it were anyone else they’d use this vulnerability of mine against me. I’m well aware that it’s a weakness, a really inconvenient one, but damn it I can’t get rid of it. I feel like I’ll be less human if I lose it. Everyone’s allowed to be vulnerable, some just are lucky enough to choose who they’ll be vulnerable around. I’m lucky enough to to have a choice, not so lucky in the people I choose to trust. Guess that’s not a luck thing, it’s just my inability to decipher whether a person is worth all the pain and torture of coming clean to them or not. So far many people have burnt me but two stick out in particular - Becca and Corpse. Corpse especially, which is the odd thing considering he hasn’t even wronged me in any way. At least not yet.

“Your phone’s vibrating.“ Andrew says, pulling me out of my overflowing head when he hands me my phone which I handed to him because of my dress’ lack of pockets.

“Thanks.“ I mutter through a sigh as I take it from him, checking the notification I’ve gotten.

My stomach drops: it’s a message from Corpse.

“Hey I saw you are in LA but we have a stream tomorrow, will you still be participating?“

Before I can reply, he sends me another message.

“I know you’re probably very busy but we get the most viewership on the streams when you’re in them so....“

I’ve probably been staring at my phone screen for longer than I thought since Andrew felt the need to make sure I was still breathing: “Hey, you ok? You look terribly pale.” I can barely hear him let alone reply. I can’t hear my own thoughts to know what to reply to him. “Y/N, you’re scaring me.”

I’m scaring myself too, Andrew. I’m scared too. I’m scared of how broken my picker has become. I almost kissed this guy! I almost entrusted all my thoughts, hopes, wishes and goals to him! What the fuck was I thinking?! Well, at least I know what he was thinking about - viewership. Likes, subs, views, publicity. The more eyes on the stream the better for him and everyone else. I genuinely want to applaud him, no one has been so direct about using me before. I was in a relationship with Becca for almost a year before I accidentally found out what she had been doing the whole time. No one’s ever smacked me in the face with this much honesty. It’s bittersweet really.

I want to laugh, I want to cry, slap myself across the face, slap him...I want to do so much, but all I can do now is sit in silence and think of how I could be so stupid.

He’s just another one, how did I not see that? How do I never see it until it’s too late? Why is one part of me still screaming: ‘He didn’t mean it like that!’

AND WHY THE FUCK DO I WANT TO BELIEVE IT?

@maat-the-prescriptive @simonsbluee @save-the-sky @itsminniekat @hacker-ghost @bi-andready-tocry @imtiredaffff @jazzkaurtheglorious @hereforbeebo @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios @maehemscorpyus @loraleiix @letsloveimagines @annshit @i-cant-choose-a-username-help @enigmaticmaze @divine-artemis @waterlilypat @idontknowwhatthisisfam @evi-ka @classyandfabulous00 @redperson58 @lilysdaydreams @solowheein @mythicalamphitrite @axen-gers @luckygirl144 @nj01 @buddyemily @the-albino-lioness @stardream14 @gdhdkfnn @nomadicgypsyy @preciousskye @fluffysuicideunicornsworld @o-kaelin @manacharlotte @awkward-youtube-trash @lolalee24 @bonky-beerns @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian @strawbrinkofdeath @teenloves @tams0527 @browneyespinkhair @starstruckllamapuppy @daisychains012 @y0ulooked @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life @jula-pauline @melodykitty @just-that-bi-girl @crazybutconfidentaf @lowellshade @alphakees @bellero @weallneednamjesus @starryhanji @boiled-onionrings @husherstan @fockingwhore @melaningoddessthings @prettypastelpetals @haleypearce @godwhyamiawkward @y-napotat @daisychainyoonmin @little-miss-rebel3 @free-wheelin-bi-sexual @redmoon261 @darkacademic2 @wiseflamingoqueen @into-the-end @namikhai-i @nastiablr @thelittleplantlover @mirktuan @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny @vintagegothlover @easygoingtheatre @itsrandombooklover @miiaivi @emmybaybee @befourgolden @jjk-is-my-shit @eternalteaaars @spacebadgerx @princesslunalight @acequinn14 @samm48 @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa @fo-love @marishimomura-blog @therealglenncoco @cinnamonbun332 @killtherandomness @sanshinexxxsan @fee-btheweeb @press-lay @cathleenpotgieter16 @jazzydoesstuff @moonlxghtbay @forestrain2000 @hyunjinhugs @blood-of-fandoms @lovellylies @ukiyolixx @simpforhpcharacters @chrisdylan17 @parkerjisung @pedernille @theodonyous @wineandionysus @malfoystilinskii05 @morbid-x @coryisagee @jessewa26 @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365 @raeanneinwonderland @indecisive-empanada @gluttonypalace @loriane2503 @btsiguess-kpop @khaoticbunny @lucidlycactus @smiithys @rottenroyalebooks @kpopgirlbtssvt @fangirl-tc27 @fr0z3n-1 @notmesimpingfortechno @shotarosleftpinky @kunoi-chan @idk-whats-wrong-with-me @yikeroonie @goldenstarofthunderclan @poetry-and-tea @ama-do-writing-stuff @wishbonewolf @emeraldxhope @t0xick1tty @kusuinko @speakyourselfloveyourself @sophia902103 @lo-manburg @classsykittykat @dmgama @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee @btsiguess-kpop @akaashi-baby @gun-jong-simp @geschichtenfee @yerapotato-wp @browneyedgirl365 @thysagclub @sparklycloudnight @helloatomicshadow @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal @lucy-bunny17 @aaliyahh0 @katluckybear @boyleanti @straybids @franchesca-791 @cosmicstorm19 @averyisbackinthetrashcan @aomi-nabi @xlanawriter @allensimpsforcorpse @sunnyrae-cessh @ladykxxx08 @meowiemari @renupf @booklover76 @sra-verissimo

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pricemarshfield · 2 years ago

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partners

[Image ID: a woman with long black hair in water, colorized green and with the text “partners” over it. End ID.]

A Chlodine fic for @foxjockey‘s birthday! They’re stranded on a desert island in pursuit of treasure, except there’s a storm. Cuddling for warmth ensues.

As tragic as it is, the capsizing really isn't anyone's fault.

The ship was well-maintained, with regular checks on even the tiny, insignificant pieces that couldn't cause anything. The crew was fully staffed and paid generously enough to give a shit. They weren't Shoreline-level, Nadine had said, but they were close. High praise coming from her, truly. And normally, that's a relief, or at least something Chloe doesn't have to waste her time thinking about.

But now, on an island somewhere in the Pacific Ocean, it means she can't even yell at the presumably-dead spirit of whoever's fault it is to vent her frustrations.

So far, it's just her and Nadine who made it to this island. It doesn't mean there's no other survivors, especially if there's enough of these islands everywhere, but Chloe doesn't have the energy to focus on that. Not with how she'd woken up to seawater splashed in her face and Nadine, stern as ever, telling her they need to find shelter now.

Nadine saved her life. She should be grateful. Hell, she is grateful. And Nadine's probably right when she says that exposure's the quickest way to die in a situation like this, that this needs to be their first priority. But she's exhausted, her muscles aching like that time she fell out of a helicopter and only survived by grabbing the ladder they'd (stupidly) left dangling. Nate had been the one to re-locate her shoulder, which had probably not helped. She finds herself telling Nadine this exact story, less out of a desire to seem cool, like when she told it to Harry, or to exploit someone's sympathy, like when she'd talked to Elena. (The former had worked. The latter had not.)

"It's a closed reduction," Nadine says.

"I don't follow."

"It's not called relocating your shoulder. It's called a closed reduction."

Chloe huffs out a breath as she picks up some mostly-dry wood to use. She knows Nadine resorts to simple facts when she's stressed, or, for that matter, when she's having too good of a time to bother even pretending with social niceties like not correcting someone in situations where you're likely to die, but it doesn't mean Chloe's a good enough person to respond with grace. "One, I don't actually care right now. Two, why the hell is it called a closed reduction?"

"Setting a bone is called reducing it, sometimes. In medicine. Same for joints. And it's closed because it doesn't require surgery."

"Oh."

Conversation sort of fizzles out after that. The island they've found themselves stranded at is, all things considered, decently survivable. There are trees they can get shade under, some bird nests, and even some pots and pans from the ship they can use to collect water, since the sky's still gray like there's rain left. Absurdly lucky, considering the ship had been torn practically in half in that storm.

She could have sworn the lightning was targeting the crack in the ship once everything had gone to shit, making it worse, but that's ridiculous.

By the time they find a cave that's got enough space to set up a lean-to to protect from the worst of the wind, the storm's either blown back towards them or an entirely new one's started, and they're both soaked through and irritable before they get the lean-to blocking them from the wind. And it's cold, too. Seriously cold, like it's not barely past summer.

"Any progress on that fire?"

"Frazer, I am working on it," Nadine says, shooting her a glare. Chloe rolls her eyes when she looks back down. Nadine mutters something in Afrikaans that's probably less than flattering, so she can assume she saw. At the first sparks, Nadine looks up at Chloe with a smug expression. "See?"

"Yes, yes, very grateful, now make room."

They don't have any dry blankets or, for that matter, any fabric at all, so they're both stripped down to their underwear, clothes all scattered around the other side of the fire to dry. Chloe's wrapped her arms around herself in an attempt to warm up even the slightest bit faster, shivering like they're in the Arctic rather than somewhere near Japan, staring into the fire.

Then again, she doesn't know currents. Maybe they're closer to Russia now?

Nadine tentatively touches her shoulder; Chloe thinks she manages to hide how startled she is. Her hand isn't that warm, not like it normally is "Frazer, you're freezing."

"Well-aware of that, actually, thank you!"

"Come here."

Chloe arches a brow at her, though she doubts the haughty expression is even the slightest bit convincing; her teeth are chattering loud enough that it's practically . "Presumptuous of you, no?"

Nadine scoffs. "If you want to freeze to death, be my guest."

Chloe's avoided things that are good for her to "win" petty squabbles she doesn't care about before; it's practically a requirement of being friends with half the treasure hunters she's worked with over the years. But turning down a warm and willing person to cuddle with to avoid hypothermia would be a new low.

Also, it's not exactly like getting close to Nadine will be a hardship.

Chloe feels shy for the first time in awhile, even though she's not planning to, like, make a move or anything. She would very much like to not die, and she'd rather not get rejected and then have to spend an entire holding her, being held by her, or risk literally dying. But she's done harder things than this (that's what she said), and she shifts closer.

Nadine sighs and pulls her closer in one shift movement. It's a relief in more ways than one. One, being this close to Nadine Ross is any adventurer's dream, just look at her. Two, holy fucking shit, she was so goddamn cold. Nadine's probably not as warm as she's supposed to be for a healthy human, but she's certainly running hotter than Chloe right now.

"How are you still so warm?"

"Muscle, or something," Nadine says, voice a little breathless.

"You alright? I didn't elbow you or something."

"No, no, you're fine."

Chloe smirks, settles in. "So muscle or something?"

"I don't know everything. Just some fun facts."

"You were the type of kid who got those trivia books filled with useless information, weren't you?"

"...I wouldn't call it useless."

Chloe laughs. Nadine's arms get tighter around her, just for a second. She could fall asleep like this. If it weren't for the thunder, or the fact that they're lying on literal rocks. "Do you think our clothes are dry enough to use as a pillow?"

"Probably not."

"Damn."

They sit in a companionable silence, tension of the rest of the day broken by huddling for warmth, apparently. But Chloe's not used to letting silences sit for too long, not since Nadine came into her life and she found herself with an honest-to-God partner she trusts. "...how do you rate our chances of getting out of this?"

"Hm. Solid eight out of ten. Got to be close enough to a larger landmass to sustain a bird population of this size."

Chloe snorts. "Animal facts saving the day."

"Besides, it's not a huge surprise we ran into storms. I have a bunch of protein bars in my pack. Only half actually made it through since the pack got torn at some point, but we won't starve right away."

"Oh, I could kiss you!"

Nadine shifts a little under her, and doesn't say anything. Whether it's because of the fire or because she's flustered, she feels just that slightest bit warmer. Chloe smirks, rolls so that they're spooning. "You alright, Chloe?"

"Yeah," Chloe says. "Just tired. Good night."

She'd mostly meant it as an excuse to cuddle more, but the work of the day starts catching up with her. Still, she's fairly sure that when she hears fondness in Nadine's words, it's not just her sleep-addled brain talking. "Sweet dreams."

#chlodine #uncharted #chloe frazer #nadine ross #foxjockey #my fics #fic: partners #request

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ak8shi · 5 years ago

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FWB HQ Boys: In which you beat the player at his own game!

warnings: Time skip spoilers, mentions of sex(all characters are 18+), stupid people in love

a/n: I love one(1) libra man!! I love Atsumu’s character and the way he’s developed in hq and I think that this is a very probable way in which he finds love !! thank you all so much for loving the first installment so much <3 I-I went a little overboard with this one but ,, xoxo Chlo

━Miya Atsumu

Let’s start with a little background; I think we can all agree Atsumu is and always has been popular with the ladies

…But that doesn’t necessarily mean the ladies are popular with him LMAO

He’s truly the emotionally unavailable heartbreaker and he built himself quite a reputation without even knowing it

This dude doesn’t even really fuck around with girls, maybe a few meaningless flings his senior year but besides that, he only has eyes for one lady and her name begins with the letter V and ends with ball

LET’S GO

So you’ve known Atsumu for years unfortunately,,, and you surely know about how he treats the girls that approach him with confessions and boxes of chocolates

You don’t approve of it at all, but your family is practically family with the Miya’s and you’ve literally spent every major holiday with them since you can remember

You: Atsumu would it kill you to show some respect towards these women

Atsumu: If she breathes, she’s a thot

….smh… a fucking mess someone please put him in his place

However your mom was always happy that you could be around the twins since you were an only child, and she loved the idea of you having two brothers who would protect you from the evils of college men little did she know,,

You hate to admit it and we hate to see it, but you started to develop a crush on him your freshman year of high school.. you suppose it was because you spent so much time with him and you saw parts of him that a lot of people didn’t get to see I mean you also saw him with his jersey on and off pretty often how could you resist

For example, every Halloween you had a sleep-over tradition where you watched horror films after trick-or-treating and Atsumu was scared SHITLESS every year, I’m talking ripping your favorite blanket off you and burying his face in it to block out the movie, he would threaten you and Osamu about telling people at school about it

Him, a 17 year old teen standing in your doorway at 3:40 am: c-can I sleep on yer floor I LOVE HIM SKAKAKAJSW

You, filming him and sending it to Suna on snap: sure Atsumu <3

You found yourself entranced when he automatically gave you his school cardigan on the walks home from school when it was cold or raining, and completely enraptured by his cute little accent

Atsumu: did ya know yer a fuckin’ idiot bimbo stupid butt crack for not bringin’ yer jacket

Atsumu: yer lucky I’m a gentleman

You: ...

Osamu: god…..

It was naïve to think he would ever reciprocate feelings especially with his entire life being his volleyball career, and you convinced yourself it was a tiny high school crush and eventually you managed to repress it

Too much was on the line; you didn’t want to make both of your families awkward, and you needed to focus on your studies as one of the top students at Inarizaki yes ma’am

Besides you loved him like family right ???

RIGHT ???

The twins are a year older than you, and Atsumu had just signed to play professionally for MSBY!!

You at his official signing: wow, looks like you don’t have to resort to living on the streets after all

Him: yeah ❤️

You kind of forgot about how you felt about him since you weren’t seeing either of the twins consistently anymore with how busy both of you were; you stayed in contact, but nothing really serious

It was weird because you were still in high school while the boys were experiencing college and doing their own thing… you drifted apart honestly and you felt a bit awkward talking to them sometimes, you felt like you were bothering them Atsumu would probably tease you and say that you were

Another year passed and you were heading to college! You are living your best life, meeting new people, and then you got the text from your mom that you were doing Thanksgiving with the Miya’s,, you weren’t sure if that meant you would be seeing both twins but something about the possibility of seeing Atsumu again made something stir in your chest

Fall break hit and you found out both the twins and you were back at home since Atsumu also had a rare break from training and his regular professional season

You were helping Osamu out at his shop, since it was his first time dealing with the overflow of Thanksgiving season as a new business owner

You’re helping close the shop, when you hear the door jingle; you turn to say a polite “sorry we’re closed for the day,” but you’re met with what seems like a new and improved and muscular Atsumu OH NO

He looks amazing and so much older than you remember??? And he’s thinking the same thing about you!!! Like wow she’s changed a lot since she started college, I’ve missed a lot apparently ??

You immediately fall into his arms, inhaling his familiar scent, Osamu rolling his eyes at the two of you and telling you to get lost before he yaks

You leave the shop with Atsumu, inviting him to your house; as you enter, you catch your mom leaving to pick up some last-minute groceries for the Thanksgiving meal

She’s acts way happier to see Atsumu than she acted when you came home LMAO later she doesn’t shut up about how handsome and manly he’s become, but you just pull him away to your room and lock your door behind you

He goes to sit on your flower-patterned comforter from your childhood, newly washed thanks to your mother

Atsumu: so…. what’s up with you..?

You can’t control the churning of your stomach all of a sudden; you can’t remember him ever looking at you this way, like he’s looking at a woman

The feelings come rushing back, and literally all you can think about is kissing him

You lean back on your dresser in front of the bed, and a wave of need to express yourself washes over you,

“Atsumu, I missed you.”

You don’t even know what’s happening until you’re trapped in between Atsumu and the door, his mouth gently pressed against yours, his warm hands caressing your hips

He asks if this is okay, and all you can do is moan back a yes in response

Let’s just say your mom might need to clean your comforter again lmaoo

It’s complicated and you’re both kinda confused after… like no one admitted that they had feelings for the other and its not like either of you can just disappear from the other’s life like a random hook-up

BUT BOTH OF YOU ARE TOO STUPID AND STUBBORN TO REALIZE YOU LIKE EACH OTHER AND WANT A RELATIONSHIP I-

Like he’s literally cuddling you and kissing you and asking you about college in your childhood bedroom naked what

And it ISN’T uncomfortable at all

It feels so right to be in his arms, and you’re in disbelief about what happened??? What even like how have you gone all this time without doing anything honestly

You suddenly hear your dad pull into the garage, and you’re both up and putting your clothes on as fast as possible

It’s embarrassing when you look back on it, how long the hook-ups went on, but this was a common occurrence whenever the two of you were home

It was basically like you were dating and doing long-distance without the label

IT WENT ON FOR ALMOST A YEAR 🤡

Osamu during next year’s Thanksgiving meal: I think we should go around the table and say what we’re thankful for, I’ll go first. I’m thankful that two people at this table are getting laid despite the fact that I’m not 😊

Your parents:

Atsumu, in many ways, is oblivious to what his feelings mean after not really being in any real relationships and blocking out all the girls during high school,

He would find himself texting you after each of his matches, hoping you had watched him and his heart would flutter when you complimented him on his sets

Atsumu on the phone with you: yeah I’m just chillin’ with the boys rn 😏

Sakusa: get the fuck off my bed and get off the phone with your girlfriend so I can sleep

Atsumu: she’s not my girlfr-

Sakusa, talking loud enough for you to hear: I literally don’t care but don’t you have her picture saved as your lockscreen?

He tried to hook-up with someone when he was away playing a tournament in the summer, but it wasn’t the same and it was only good if he imagined it was you

He never did it again and before coming home for Christmas, he called Osamu to finally ask him what to do

Osamu: about time you meathead

Osamu literally spells it out to this man; he has been and is in love with you and he needs to do something about it asap before someone else snatched you away

Atsumu: why didn’t ya just say somethin’ ? Ya know I’m not good at these typa things !

I can’t he’s something else

So it’s Christmas, and he asks if you would want to go see the town square’s Christmas lights with him

Of course you say yes, you’re just really excited to finally see him after so long !!

Atsumu with rosy cheeks ugh spare me

He picks you up and greets you with a kiss to your temple, and he has a little gift baggie with him; he hands it to you to open and you pull out his old school cardigan

“I-I thought maybe you would want it since ya always stole it from me in high school, and since I’m half-way ‘round the world most of the time”

It smells just like him, you thank him with a kiss to his cheek and you tuck it away in your bedroom before leaving hand-in hand to see the colorful lights dazzling in the night sky

You talked to Osamu about your relationship with his brother and you want Atsumu to make a move honestly; you want to be sure he wants this since you’ve literally liked him since high school

You’re not sure what you are expecting, but when Atsumu has you in his arms, your back against his chest and his chin on your shoulder as you watch the Christmas carolers, you don’t expect him to whisper into your ear,

“hey, will ya be my girl?”

You turn around to give him a surprised look, his hand bringing yours to his mouth to plant a soft kiss on your knuckles this is his favorite place to kiss fight me

After getting over your dream-like shock, you say yes and pull him into a kiss

I’m crying he tells you afterwards that you were his girl since the first time he met you, we’ll let him have this one because did he really know until like a week ago? no

Whew, all of your friends and family let out a relieved sigh when they hear the news LMAO

Suna, hearing about Atsumu finally making it official: thank god I was about to start blackmailing him with those Halloween videos

#did writing this make me fall in love with him?maybe so #haikyuu!!#atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu #atsumu headcanons #atsumu scenarios #atsumu x reader #atsumu fluff #atsumu imagines #hq #hq fluff #hq scenarios #hq headcannon #hq drabble #hq x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu headcannons

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arcane-apathy · 4 years ago

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Part 1

AN: Part 1 of 3 for this Male Naga X Female Reader. I’m hoping to get better at writing short stories, but it’ll take some practice. I hope y’all enjoy!

Warning(s): N/A

You didn’t know why you decided to leave home but your mind was already made up and the U-Haul was already packed. There was no going back now. You didn’t want to be a big city nurse anymore, and you also didn’t want to move back to your hometown. So, this year you decided to move to New Mexico, specifically Peralta. A town of a little over three thousand people. The eastern half of town right on the border of the Isleta Pueblo Reservation, and the Rio Grande River to the west. You could even see the Manzano Mountain Range in the distance.

The drive to Peralta was taxing, but unbelievably beautiful. No wonder why New Mexico is called The Land of Enchantment. You made it to your new home in the middle of the day, and the sun was high above you. Of course you decided to move in the middle of summer, the dry heat smacking you in the face as you got out of the rental truck. You shielded your eyes from the sun as you stared at your new home.

The property was near the end of a dirt road, about a city block away from the local cemetery. But you didn’t mind, in fact it made the house even cheaper. You’d just have to remember to cleanse the house whenever you got a chance. The house was a simple one-story pueblo style house, the faux-adobe outside was an ivory color, and the windows were painted pear green. It lacked the wooden vigas, making it obvious that it wasn’t an actual pueblo home. The house was small, the yard was huge, it had a detached stainless-steel garage, and a dirt driveway. All surrounded by a chain link fence with a gate.

It didn’t take you long to unload the U-Haul, considering you sold most of your things before you moved. You lay your mattress on the bedroom floor and the majority of boxes stay in your living room. You look at the time on your phone, there was still two hours until the U-Haul’s scheduled return time. Un-packing wasn’t the first item on the agenda, some serious cleaning needed to be done before you thought about anything else.

Granted the house wasn’t in horrible shape, but it was obvious that it’s been a few months since anyone has lived in it. The air was stuffy, there was dust on everything, and there was dirt all over the floors. You search for your bag of cleaning supplies that you bought at a Wal-Mart in Albuquerque, well prepared to clean. With the house being so small, it didn’t take you long to clean, so you took your time admiring your new home. The house was made in the seventies, the Spanish-style linoleum tiles in the kitchen being the proof. Yet it didn’t look like it came out of a home magazine that your grandmother would've read. There were some obvious updates throughout the years. Thankfully central air was one of them.

You returned the U-Haul and the towing dolly on time, driving your car back home. You stopped at a Domino’s on the way home, not yet ready to try the local food. Unpacking was the only thing on your mind. And no surprise to you, it took all night. Packing wasn’t easy, because you had to take things from their place and sort them into boxes. Unpacking was another challenge, the amount of times you switched which cabinet your plates went in was frustrating. By two in the morning you had everything put away, there were sheets on your bed, and your eyelids were heavy.

~~***~~

It’s been a month since you’ve moved, and you’ve loved it more that you’d ever thought. Living in your one bedroom house was a dream compared to any other apartment you’ve had before. You’ve gotten over the linoleum in the kitchen, and you couldn’t even imagine the house without it. The yard was easy to maintain, considering it was primarily dirt. You didn’t see much of your neighbors but they were nice from what you could tell. And the quiet was refreshing.

You spent most of your days at work, a health center in the middle of the Isleta Pueblo Reservation. The work was tough, and didn’t pay much, but it was obvious that they needed you there. According to your co-workers everyone wanted to work in the big cities and that smaller health centers, especially ones for the native populations, were constantly understaffed. You became a licensed practical nurse because you wanted to help people, and working in an at risk community fulfilled that goal.

To say you were surprised when your co-worker invited you to her birthday party in Albuquerque was an understatement. Although you didn’t know her that well, you still went. You needed socialization outside of the workplace and the occasional video calls with your family back home. So, you put on your best outfit and did your best to look presentable. The night started off at a restaurant, the food was amazing, and the company was actually enjoyable. After dinner you all went to a bar, so far it was a typical birthday party for a bunch of girls in their twenties.

You stood against the wall, nursing a drink as everyone else in your group dance. Normally you weren’t such a party pooper, but these girls weren’t much of your crown. It was too early in the night to go home, and they all knew that you didn’t work tomorrow so you couldn’t use that excuse. Hence why you resorted to people watching. The bar was packed with humans and non-humans alike, all dancing with each other. There were already a few couples sharing face in the darker corners.

“You look bored,” a blunt voice shook you from your daze. You look to the side, noticing as a tall man slithered up to you. Not metaphorically. Your eyes instantly gravitated to his tail, the bulk of muscle trailing closely behind him as he moved. You couldn’t help but be mesmerized by the pattern of his scales. The base was beige and was decorated in an assortment of splotches all in varying shades of brown, and at the very end of it all was a black rattle. He laughs at your reaction, “have you never seen a Naga before?”

“Not up close, there weren’t that many back home,” you flush a little as you are caught staring. Which wasn’t a lie, you didn’t see many growing up, nor did you encounter a lot at work either. A surprising statistic you’ve learned since you moved is that New Mexico has the highest population of Naga in the United States, with Texas as a close second. You have seen a few as you wandered around Peralta and the neighboring towns, but you have yet to talk to them.

“Oh, you’re from out of town. How exciting,” he smiles and extends a hand, “Santiago Rosales.” You shake his hand and introduce yourself. His smile grows and the rainbow lights from the dance floor reflect off his fangs. You couldn’t deny that he was an attractive man, tan skin, curly raven hair, a triangular face with a strong jawline, and golden serpentine eyes. You look back at the dance floor and notice one of your co-workers giving you a thumbs up. “So, not to sound cheesy… But why is a pretty chica like you, not out there?”

You flush a little at his definitely cheesy comment, “I’ve already done my socializing for the evening, but if I leave now I’ll never hear the end of it at work. What about you, why aren’t you out there?”

He motions to his tail, “I’m in no mood to get stomped on.”

“Oh… I didn’t even think of that. Does it happen often?”

“It happened a lot when I was a kid, but I was kinda a wimpy kid too,”

You raise a brow as you look at how snugly his button up fits to his arms and chest, “wimpy?”

“Hey I wasn’t always like this, I was a string bean growing up. It took years for this to happen,” he motions to himself proudly. You laugh and finish your drink, Santiago looks at the empty glass, “may I offer to buy you another drink?”

You contemplate it for a second then shake your head, “no thank you, I have to drive home tonight. And I don’t live in Albuquerque.”

“Is it too weird to ask where you live then?”

“Peralta,” you shrug.

“Really? My mom lives in Peralta… Maybe I’ll see you around?”

~~***~~

And you did, the first time you saw Santiago was at the grocery store. You were trying to figure out what brand of refried beans to buy when he came down the aisle, slithering alongside an older Naga woman. He didn’t acknowledge you, which made you question whether he recognized you at all. The second time you saw him was at the post office, and he immediately smiled when he saw you. Your heart couldn’t help to flutter at the sight of him. The third time was at the bank, both of you waiting in line at the tellers.

The fourth time was when everything changed. You were standing in the bathroom aisle at Target in Albuquerque, looking through the wide array of shower curtain options. You heard your name being called and you looked up, expecting to see someone from work, possibly even a regular patient. But, instead your eyes were graced with the sight of a familiar Naga in a taut shirt and a leather jacket, “oh, hi Santiago.”

“Hola, looking for a shower curtain I see,” he smiles as he sidles up beside you.

You fluster a little, realizing you were still wearing your baggy maroon scrubs. “Indeed I am, it’s been two months and my house still looks like no one lives in there.”

He looks you up and down, his eyes stopping at the embroidered patch above your breast, “you work at Isleta Health Center?”

Your brows knit in confusion and you look down at the patch, resisting the urge to face palm, “yes, yes I do. Sorry, I just got off my shift and I kinda forgot I was still wearing this monstrosity.”

“You don’t look bad at all if I’m being honest…”

Damn he was slick, “it’s not the worst, but I hate how plain it is. I sold all my fun scrubs when I moved, so I’m stuck with the standard issues until I buy more.” He nods and looks at the shower curtains in your hands curiously. “So, what are you here for?”

"Uhh… Honestly I don't even know anymore. They didn't have what I needed, so I just started to aimlessly slither around the store. And then I found you."

"Aimlessly wandering around Target can be dangerous," you chuckle.

"I haven't learned my lesson apparently," he gives you a lopsided smile, "last time it happened I came home with a pillow that had some motivational quote.”

“Yikes,” you laugh and put one of the curtains back onto it’s metal hook.

“Yikes indeed,” he crosses his arms over his chest as he looks at the options before him. “So, do you have any style in mind.”

“Santiago, you don’t need to help me.”

“I fear if I don’t help you, you’ll be stuck in the store until it closes,” he teases with a wink.

You feel the heat rising to your cheeks, “alright fine. My house is pueblo style, built in the seventies. The bathroom was recently remodeled before they sold it, so the walls are plain, it has normal wood, and laminate tiles that look like travertine. It’s very boring.”

“So you need something to spice it up?”

“Exactly,” you pick up a geometric patterned one, looking at the picture on the cardboard.

Santiago shakes his head, "nope", he takes it out of your hand and puts it back. You look at him dumbfounded by how brash he was. He puts another one in your hands, “this one looks like you.”

You look down at the curtains, it was a simple floral. But with the way the bright flowers were stylized like they were from an Alfredo Ramos Martinez painting. “This is cute.”

“You look like a floral person.”

“How does one look like a floral person, without being an actual nymph?” He shrugs and you simply roll your eyes, “you’re lucky I tolerate you.”

He winces, “just tolerate?”

“Well, I don’t know you that well…”

“Then let's get to know each other,” his posture straightens. “Why don’t we go out for a coffee someday, as a date?” You must’ve stared at him like he grew another head because he immediately fell back on his statement, “or not a date?”

“No… A date is fine.”

“Is it?”

“Definitely.”

“Then why are you still looking at me like that?”

Your face instantly turns a scarlet color, “I… It's been awhile since I’ve been on a date. So, the fact that you are asking me on a date, in a Target, is mind boggling.”

“Do you want me to ask you outside the Target?”

“That’s not the point,” you sigh, trying to steady your breathing. “So, a date?”

Santiago smirks, “give me your phone.” You scowl and he shrinks at your stern gaze, “por favor?” Reluctantly you unlock and hand him your phone, watching as he makes himself a contact. “Text me when you get home, I should have a fantastic plan by then.”

“No coffee?”

“Nope, you deserve more than a coffee.” You flush again as he smiles victoriously, “I’ll let you get back to shopping so you can get home at a decent hour. Talk to you soon, cariño.” You watch as he slithers out of the aisle with a wave over his shoulder. You can’t help but stare, looking at the end of the aisle then back at the curtains in your hand. For some reason, the bright flowers just felt right. So, you put the package into your basket and head off to find the next item on your list. And you couldn’t wait until you got home.

#Naga X Reader #X Reader Miniseries #M Naga x F Reader #Exophilia #Terato #My Works #My Writing #Original Content #Monster X Reader

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star-consultant · 4 years ago

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Bright are the stars

You need a Beatle song that perfectly encapsulates your sign? Of course you do. (Spotify playlist)

Aries—“I Saw Her Standing There”

One two three FOUR! An eager and intense song for an eager and intense sign. Aries falls hard and fast, with a tendency to rash vows that everyone doubts they mean—but Aries doesn’t doubt. Paul (who later styled himself as a "ram” at a key point in his creative development) makes good on the Cardinal Fire vibe with his exuberant vocals, and John of the Aries rising contributed the street-smart innuendo that utterly makes the song: And you know what I mean. Fittingly, this song kicked off the group’s first album, which itself has plenty of Aries “HELLO I AM HERE TO MAKE A MARK ON YOUR WORLD! (like me plz ok? this is my heart and i am Doing My Best??)” energy.

Taurus—“All I’ve Got to Do"

A song that takes its sweet time but burrows deeper than the average ear-worm into your consciousness. It’s a patient song that is unassuming but knows exactly what the hell it’s doing. The intensity builds bit by bit, so that you’re unaware when the power of the bridge comes crashing down. Describes the Taurean romantic ideal: lazy, loyal, cozy, constant, tender, and ever-so-true. Also, “All I’ve Got to Do” is featured on the second album, With the Beatles, which has plenty of other Bullish touches, noticeable even with a casual glance at the tracklist: “Don’t Bother Me,” “Not a Second Time,” and “Money (That’s What I Want).”

Gemini—“She Loves You”

Paul is a Gemini Sun, and throughout his catalogue it shows. But perhaps he never topped the Twinniness of this energetic, optimistic, breathless, gossipy classic. It was composed “eye-to-eye” with John, a truly dual-authored song, and one the rare Beatles numbers where the two lead vocalists double up on every single line, in true (Nerk) Twin fashion. Also the first but definitely not the last of their many “third-person narratives,” Paul’s novelistic instead of confessional slant being distinctly a Gemini thing. The speaker in this one couldn’t be more enthusiastic about this relationship if it were already repaired, and he couldn’t be more enthusiastic about it if it were his. Love is great! People reconciling is great! You should be glad, dumbass! But the real corker? What makes this so Gemini that it hurts? Yoko has confirmed that in the early 70s, during her separation with John, she actually had Paul play agony aunt. Then, during that meetup in L.A. where they were last photographed together, Paul urged John to “apologize to her” and get back together... which he did. That’s right. "She Loves You” is not merely a Gemini’s song: it’s a Gemini’s life.

Cancer—“Octopus’s Garden”

Ringo the Crab’s musically-complex fantasy about an underwater sanctuary where children are “happy and safe,” he and his lover can be together, and there’s “no one there to tell us what to do.” George (a triple Water sign himself, probably not-so-incidentally) always insisted that his best mate’s song Had Depths, and he himself supplied a lot of them: check out his lead guitar lines. They function as emotional counterpoint. When Ringo’s vocal line is especially wistful, the guitar is bright; when Ringo ends on a confident note, the guitar is quirky, ironic, even stiff-upper-lip pessimistic. Result: a shifting kaleidoscope of FEELS. The Moon approves.

Leo—“Good Day Sunshine”

Paul perfectly expresses his own Leo moon with a sublime, vibrant ode to laughter, love, and pride on a cloudless summer day. The bit in the lyrics about she knows she’s looking fine and I’m so proud to know that she is mine? That’s not marring the high tone of the song: that is part of the tone. Hear us roar! And by “roar” I mean "laugh and canoodle, coz Leo is about living the good life, bitches.”

Virgo—“Please Please Me”

What’s fair is forkin’ fair, mate! A exemplary blend of Virgo’s Mutable passive-aggressive sensitivity with its Elemental directness... half-critical, half-begging... plus the very sign-typical humblebragging. About their sexual prowess. Damn, Virgo. People forget how Earthy you really are sometimes. But here we are. In very Virgo fashion, instead of ditching the girl he’s decided to harangue her. On a more meta note, the Beatles were still studio virgins when they first began crafting this song, and it took several passes and incorporation of George Martin’s feedback before it became the bursting pop hit as we know it now. There’s that Virgo work ethic paying off.

Libra—“Strawberry Fields Forever”

The imagery of the title suggests an eternal harvest. But the star sign resemblance goes deeper than that: Always, no, sometimes think it’s me, but, you know, I know when it’s a dream. I think, er, no, I mean, er, yes, but it’s all wrong... that is, I think I disagree. Did you just hear your Libra roommate rambling after a joint, or did you listen to verse three of “Strawberry Fields”? Same difference. The song is absolutely lovely, as anything associated with the child of Venus should be, and innovative, as befits a Cardinal sign. Most of all, even in all of Libra Sun John’s weighing and weed-wandering, he knows one thing: he’s got to take someone else along with him. A companion, stat!

Scorpio—“While My Guitar Gently Weeps”

George of the Scorpio moon and Scorpio ascendant had to really lean into this side of his nature to even get this damn track properly recorded. He resorted to the social power play of inviting Eric frickin’ Clapton into the tense post-India studio just to get Lennon, McCartney, and Martin to give his song proper Beatle recording magic. Which it deserved. The dark drama of the hard-won arrangement is the perfect Scorpio accompaniment to the moody, reflective lyrics about “all the love there that’s sleeping” in this weary world. There’s tender, horrified pity here for those who are stifled into inauthenticity: I don’t know how nobody told you how to unfold your love. I don’t know how someone controlled you; they bought and sold you... Bonus points for the Watery ‘just can’t even’-ness of not being able to so much as pick up a damn broom.

Sagittarius—“Something”

You’re asking me, will my love grow? I don’t know, I don’t know! A deeply instinctual lover knows that Cupid has done hit a bullseye. He remains emphatically ambivalent about the future, but he knows what he feels in this moment, and in that moment is romance and wonder that is as deep as the earth is from the heavens. Sags are intense, but of all the Fire signs they are most far-seeing and detached (due to their Mutable quality, which makes them see the world a bit more like an Air sign does). “Something” keeps trying to capture that je-ne-sais-quoi, and despite the speaker’s happiness he can’t help but circle back again and again to take another shot at that the mental target. A philosopher even when in love. Ultimately, however, he doesn’t want to leave her now... which for a restless Sag is already saying a ton.

Capricorn—“Revolution”

John let his unfashionable midheaven Capricorn off the leash with this blunt, pointed savaging of radical and violent revolutions. (Given the tanks on Tiananmen Square and the millions dead on the killing fields of Cambodia, I can’t say that his cautionary note about “destruction” and “minds that hate” was unnecessary.) Few things are more Capricorn than ‘Oh, you want my money? Yeah, first show me that you’ve done your fucking homework, mate.’ Bonus Earth points for the fact that he somehow worked sex—a lot of sex—into this political track.

Aquarius—“Come Together”

John of the Aquarius moon’s decidedly loony attempt to write a political campaign song in order to stop Reagan. (The result was too weird for Timothy Leary, whose reaction was pretty much ‘wtf? I don’t think even I have enough residual acid in my system for this one... ’) John invokes the ideal of collaboration, but his call to solidarity is built around fantastical lyrics that no one can comprehend: He wear no shoeshine, he got/Toejam football, he got/Monkey finger, he shoot/Coca-Cola, he say/I know you, you know me... Oh, right. The lyrics contain exactly one discernible message: One thing I can tell you is you got to be free. How Aqua. Also in true collaborative Water-Bearer fashion, the arrangement really makes the song (special mention to the tight, tight work of the rhythm section). Bizarre genius that attracts a true team effort—it doesn’t get much more Aquarius than that.

Pisces— “I Want to Tell You”

The wall of sound builds up thickly enough that soon the words seem to be traveling through the sea to reach you: I want to tell you my head is filled with things to say... But when you’re here, all those words, they seem to slip away. A gorgeously, emotionally tongue-tied song... about being tongue-tied. Written by George, a Pisces Sun, this absolute mystery of a lyric is all emotion and no logic. If he seems to act unkind, it’s only him, it’s not his mind. Okay, Fishboy. Good thing the track is compellingly lovely and utterly relatable. Which suits the Pisces life exactly: ‘I don’t know what I mean, but it’s exceedingly beautiful and I want you to share it with you very, very much.’

#zodiac #beatles

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idris-hunts-the-mando · 3 years ago

Text

Right place, Right time \the departure pt.1/

Rating: Mature

Words: 6.1k

A/N: this took me the bulk of a week to complete, i think ill make a few small bite sized works for a while, working on the next part in a week or so, once i get myself back together. give me all the love you as a reader can, I’m fueled by praise/hj

pairings: none yet

Warnings: series typical violence, hard swearing, moderate gore

I woke up sore and hurt in the bunk room, the cold cot felt like frozen river stones under my tired bones. I could tell we arrived at our destination from the frostbite settling into my fingers and nose. The slow neutral hum of machinery was a tell tale sign that the ship was at ease, the noise usually deafening. Pulling my threadbare scarf up over my neck and chin, i started regretting choosing this particular cargo ship going to a frozen planet for a runaway plan. I braced for the aggravating beginning to the tiresome day and sat up from my cramped bunk space. sleeping in a room with a dozen oily work worn men didnt make any part of the trip to Maldo Keris easier, not to mention the fact they all saw me as more of a womp rat and less of a sentient being. keeping my eyes to myself, i shoved my tattered boots over my feet buckled my tool belt to my hip and hurried out of the barracks before the bulk of my crew mates woke up. stepping out onto the loading dock,i took a breath in. the smell of poorly filtered air irked my mechanics brain. It would be such an easy fix if they payed me to care. But alas, for this particular voyage, i was bunked out like a stowaway, giving in return my fix-it help around deck for passage off my planet of origin. Sighing out the musty air, i checked my stations. Navigating the hold was like a womp rat through a maze, you had to be rather nimble and graceful to get through the makeshift corridors without issue. Unluckily for me, I was neither nimble nor graceful. When i got to the panel, i took out my key ring and unlocked the rusted metal door to expose the intricacies within. the wiring looked tip top shape, but the fuel lines needed a bit more attention than the other tangle of electronics, so i took out my multi-tool to tighten the fittings. The liquid distilled Rhydonium that flowed through these particular lines was a less explosive substance than its pure form, but dangerous nonetheless. the multi-tool was a newer model, so it didn't fit this type of bolt all the way, but it was better than nothing. Better than allowing it to loosen over another voyage and have the ship explode mid hyper-speed.

My mind was so stuck in its own world, the training I had over the many years in a scrappers shop spewing all of its knowings about rhydonium and fuel lines that I didn't have time to notice the first lieutenant Maegs stalking his way over to me. I jumped a moment before he spoke, tightening the last half inch of the bolt down maybe a bit too aggressively.

"We the captains crew appreciate the helping you've been do'en for this ol beasty of a ship," he mentioned, one his independent eyes viewed me separably, while the second one was monitoring my work. I froze for a moment out of fear, but i didn't think he took notice. "You're more than welcome to stick 'round 'an see what else you can fix up for this rust-bucket." the first lieutenant never gave me much of a hard time, unlike most of the crew. But I had made up my mind the first night in hyperspace that I would haul ass out of this suffocating ship as soon as a habitable planet was spotted. I finished up closing and locking the wires box, shaking my head slowly and turning to face him.

"I do love the sentiment, lieutenant. but maybe another time if our paths cross again." I forced an obligatory smile, avoiding making eye contact with him at all costs out of fear for not having the attention span to pick and stick to a wondering eye. If i could ever force myself to say something nice about the ship and its crew, it would be the acceptance of short interactions. A conversation rarely surpassed the 'how are you doing today' phase, by the moons it never got to that phase in the first place. And I was a person of not many words, and not much of a filter.

Maegs nodded slowly, clasping two of his 4 arms behind his back and turning away. I felt the need to repay his unprompted kindness with some suggestions for the ship before I left it for good. Call me sentimental, but this ship, albeit mostly composed of literal blood sweat and spit, was my ticket into a new life. "don't let yourself get caught without changing the air filtration system, them new republic scouters are picky about what type of poison you use for cremates." I remark with a little smirk. Maegs paused, narrowing his eyes, amused by the backhanded remark. He had surely gotten complaints about the smell before. He gave a thoughtful nod toward me, and allowed himself a small smile. I looked down in my hands, the key ring still hanging off my index finger. I tossed it towards him and was relieved when he caught it. he turned with no further words needed. On his way to the control room, he pushed the cargo bay door release button. My line of sight was clear from the opening door to the nearby port town and when the frosty air stung my face, I knew in my soul that this was a good thing. Taking in a breath of the salted frozen air, my body naturally recoiled. I'm not one for cold. 'Ah well, way to go picking the nearest ice planet than idiot' I scolded myself, pulling my cloak back over my shoulders to take the first step out of the ship held together with sticker line and bantha spit. 'Good riddance'.

Walking into town was harder than expected, the ice on the ground blended into the ice of the horizon, making spacial reasoning a thing of the past. The only anchor I had to the planet besides its heavy gravity was the stark grey buildings stapled to the sheets of ice about 10 meters in front of me. I never could have guessed the sky of Maldo Keris could get any uglier, but planets like these have a way of surprising a person. I tucked my hair and ears away with the hood of my raggedy travelers cloak, bracing myself from the heavy winds by retreating further and further into my cloths. I stayed on the worn path from the ship's dock port, hearing from previous crew mates that this was the warm season, that the ice was thinner and the creatures lurking underneath had no sense of remorse. Now nervous at the revival of that pleasant memory, I kept a close eye on my surroundings, not having the most faith in my feet for staying their course. The wind stung at my exposed skin, reminding me I was wearing only my work cloths that weren't meant for the sudden change in climate. The cloak I had was best at protecting my human skin from the suns above. Beyond that, my tatterd outer layer didn't do much for the safeguarding of my body heat.

I was relieved to have stumbled to shade from the wind so quickly, the heavy kit bag on my back was starting to feel more like a boulder taped to my body than a simple means of containing my tools and spare cloths. Paying attention to the signs overhead, i quickly located the nearest cantina and rushed towards it as fast as any human Popsicle can. Opening the circular doors with the press of a button took me into what felt like a summer time resort. Hiding my appreciation for the warmth from the patrons staring at me, i collected my composure and swiftly found an open table. The electronic doors closed rather harshly behind me. I recognized the sound of faulty pressure hinge and eyed the door for a moment when i took my seat. That door was a danger to customers who get caught in it, it could cause some serious injuries for larger species and even fatalities for humanoids.

Sitting down at the frosty old wooden chair was a relief on the fatigue in my joints. It was neither a comfortable seat, nor a relatively stable one, but it gave me time to take off my pack and study the small, rather ugly, room I found myself to be in. It wasn't too long before I would have to order something, or I feared starvation. The crew mates on the cargo ship were kind, if the bare minimum counts. Food once a day (as per average in the parsec), and as much sleep as necessary per species or race. For humans in particular, that amount of time was annoyingly low. tired and hungry was a bad mix for me as it is, but add cold to that mixture, and the first person to get on my nerves would be the last. i checked the contents of my bag to make sure everything looked as it should and moved up from my chair, replacing the spot with my hefty bag. I was rather confident that if any Kung Nerfhearder tried to run off with it, it would be too weighted for them to get far. I may be rather small compared to other sub species of humans, but i pride myself on my strength often.

Making my way to the bar counter, I lean up between two silent patrons sitting a few seats away from each-other. I get the barkeep's attention with a wave of my fingers, calling him to me. "What kind of meal do you have on the stove top right now?" I ask with my flattest low tone. In port towns like this its important to be as emotionless as possible in order to not draw attention to yourself. Colorless, shapeless, uniform and mad was always the role you had to play to make it through the galaxy.

"We got a silver weed in the radiator, it'll be 3 credits." He replied, picking up a glass and wiping it out with his rag covered hand. I pulled the amount needed out of my pocket and set it down on the bar counter. he swiped his hand over the credits, picking them up quickly. nodding, he left the sight of the bar for only a spit second before returning to the table with a small bowl of mush. I tried my best to smile and be thankful for the meal, but as the bowl transferred to my hands I had to focus on not gagging. I hurried back to my private table in the corner and settled back into my seat, dropping my bag on the floor between my legs to keep it as safe as possible. The last thing I want is a soup that tastes like the scrapings of a persons shoe into street worn snow, but what can you expect on a planet such as this. Prodding the gelatinous mass in the bowl with my spoon, I ponder the ever growing question of 'what in the hell is in this shit'. my mind wonders deep into its personal wonderland while my environment continues to be less and less favorable.

Hostile voices from the other side of the cantina rise louder and louder, as if at the warm up stage of a slowly progressing screaming match. The feeling of sourness in my heart rose with a predictable inclination. The tension in the air grows as yet again the same scene unfolds before my and all other patrons of the cantina's eyes. I strain my neck to see what was happening. At the far end of the room, closer to the door than I am, I saw the oddly familiar face of a poor amphibious creature's head being slammed on the table he was sitting at. The oldest and most primal of situations, the strong picking on the weak. Three tall imposing figures towered over the poor humanoid looking fellow who was obvious to any idiot to be lacking in intimidating features. Seeing this obligatory show of power for any insecure creature with anger issues never sat right with me. It reminded me too much of where I came from, the slums of sand and glass where bullies like these were treated like royalty without challenge from the ones they harassed.

'Dank ferrik, don't do it' i challenged the assaulter internally, as if pleading with them to harm their victim any more so I would have a reason to put in use my blade skills. i had no idea where I've seen that face before, but as they say, curiosity killed the Cathar. And there it happened, the final action in the escalation. The largest of the assaulter lifted the poor guy to his feet and the ring leader lifted his knife to the throat of his victim. A cry of anguish and fear came from the poor fool being restrained, and that was my last straw.

I stood from my chair, kicking away my bag and drawing my vibroblade from my thigh holster, walking over to the group across the tavern. I growl, squaring my shoulders and stiffening my legs to make me seem bigger. I must have looked pretty wild, my tattered cloak drawn over my body like a dark fog, and my scarf still pulled up like a mask over my nose with only my furious green eyes over the top. Just as I started my warpath towards the men, the heavy ring shaped door to the cantina opened abruptly, startling a few of the onlookers. I knew what type of situation I had put myself in and how important focus and intimidation was, so I didn't take any time away from the assholes with blades to gawk at who had happened to stroll in. With my attention solely married to the poor bastard and his assailants, I noticed all of their attention was stripped from their target and glued to the newcomer. Evaluating my surroundings, I saw most of the other patrons in my sight were enthralled too. This piqued my interest and I felt it safe enough to turn and check out the royalty.

Standing soberly at the bar counter, the figure of a mandolorian stood in silence, facing the bar keep. My heart dropped first, than my jaw. Only legend, only in the oldest fables and the scary stories my nan would use to scare me into not stealing the sweets late at night, had I ever heard of the likes of him. from the bescar armor forged in the heart of a black flame forge (or so i've been told) to the galaxy known creed of mandalore, this being was the stuff of leadgeneds. To be feared and adorned wherever they so chose to walk. but not anymore. Not since the planet turned to glass a hundred years ago, destroying much of what was known of the infamous warriors.

I don't think the aggressors saw me and the dangerous piece of weaponry clasped in my hand, instead they looked drunkenly amused at the new patron, like sly cats with a new toy. surveying his surroundings, the warrior's expressionless visor swept the room. He inspected the threat levels of the patrons, the bullies, the amphibious humanoid sucker that was caught under it all. The mandolorian made no comment as he momentarily swept over me, with my clenched fist around the vibroblade. Rather he ignored me entirely, leaning against the bar counter and staring absentmindedly at the wall ahead of him. The scum saw this as an odd mandolorian intimidation tactic and took it to heart, growling a string of multilingual insults. I couldn't quite understand all the words from their chosen dialect, but something about a drink spilling and how it was somehow the mando's fault.

when they didn't get a response, they snorted, puffing their chest out and stalking towards the armored newcomer. Continuing to talk in another language I didn't understand fully, the bar keep attempted to translate, feeling the tensions rise in the air. "He says you spilled his drink." a moment of silence, with the smell of anger wafting from the half intoxicated bantha shaggers, And the barman attempted to diffuse the situation by offering the men drinks to hopefully get them to settle down. And by the two suns it did not. The drink slid from the barkeep's hand and down the table. The mandolorian took it out of its trajectory and started the assault, smashing the creature's head on the counter to his right and simultaneously twisting the louder man on his left arm until the knife in his hand stabbed himself in the ass. As the third attempted to run out the front door, mando caught him with his grappling wire and pulled him back. The tangled creature got his blaster from a thigh holder and shot a round at his would-be captor. The blaster fire ricochet off the bescar Armour, bringing the mando's attention to his own firearm. With the tangled assaulter in the right position, mando fired a single shot at the door of the cantina, Forcing the wiring to go into hyperactive shut down, closing the doors around the alien. The doors struggled for a moment, and so did the thing caught in it, but nothing stopped the metal and electricity from slicing through the meat of its body. The legs of the now dead man fell to the ground at the door with a sickening thump.

After this, the silence in the room was so thick you could swing at it with a hatchet and not make a dent in the shock factor. unsurprisingly enough, every patron went back to their own businesses with each other as if nothing had happened. A pair sitting at a table close to the door went swiftly to the half body to move it away to continue the flow of traffic as they then scurried out the doors, carrying the top half between them. Scavengers i bet, black market womp rats' i thought, sighing at how quickly the circle of life can flash before your eyes. death isn't something to be dewlled on in a universe like this, now back to the issue at hand.

recollection hit me like a half ton of bricks when I remembered where I saw the face of the teal looking bastard with a knife previously on his neck. Spite flooded in my blood as I narrowed my eyes at my next target, shoving my vibroblade back in my thigh holster aggressively and stomping towards the useless excuse of flesh. "You're a dead man now, Mythrol." I said to myself. he must have heard me, or possibly sensed all the rage walking swiftly at him. His eyes upturned towards me, full of fear, but I now remember there is an ugly smugness to him too. I made it to the table, putting my hands down in front of him, leaning my top body weight on my palms. "You better have a divine excuse for not meeting me at that port you Druk Nerfhearder, or you'll be seeing the wrong side of the ice ocean outside in 30 seconds." I could barely contain my frustration with this sniveling worm, he was the reason i had to bunk with the disgusting oiled engineers for a week in hyperspace. The reason I had only 12 credits in my tech vault and less than that on hand. He scammed me out of a decent ride and my entire years savings. It was a genuine miracle how well I kept myself from not leaping over the table he sat at and giving him a new meaning to crazy bitch.

"H-hey, hey you, long time no see huh, man am I sorry for missing out on that meting we had that one time, sorry pal I kinda slept in-" but before he could make up any more exuces, any more lies, my vibroblade was at his throat right where the other man's was just a moment ago. He hissed and recoiled back in his seat, opening and closing his mouth a few times, trying to breathe, to speak. whichever it was, it wouldn't matter soon. He had talked enough in his lifetime to anger hundreds of poor victims throughout the parsec, letting him one last word would be a dishonor to all of them.

Before I could press the blade into his flesh, a firm leather covered hand wrapped around my forearm, pulling it away carefully. I looked at the arm, attached to it was a shoulder, and atop the shoulder sat a gleaming bescar helmet. I felt my heart sink into the depths of my stomach, the anger switching places with feral panic that I tried my absolute best to contain. No words came from the mandolorian, a simple shake of his head was all i got. he loosened the grip on my arm, letting it recall back to my center of gravity.Ii looked down at the arm, looking for any obvious signs of damage, but his grip was closer to gentle and firm than harsh. A soft metallic thud brought my attention to the table, where the mando has tossed a puck. A bounty puck. Today was certainly a day for emotions, because T felt as pleased as a jawa coming across the flashing screen of Mythrol's face on the holographic screen projected by the puck. Mytrol looked between me and the mandolorian a few times before painting his face with a fake smile, the wheels in his head turning into overdrive trying to make a lie up to get himself out of this one. "Is that me?" he questioned, the forced denial barely hiding the fear in his eyes. "Aw come on, I can pay you more than that pitiful bounty, a whole new cruiser," he pleaded, bargaining for his life. "on me, waddaya say."

The mandolorian doesn't waste a breath to reply, his electronically filtered voice filling the getting-to-be awkward silence. "I can take you in warm." he placed a hand on his hip holster, bringing attention to the deadly gun strapped in it. "Or I can bring you in cold." Mythroll's face turned pale with fear, looking like a sort of pale blue spirit. Gulping down what could have been vomit, or another plea for life, he couldn't move at all, just staring at the mandolorian's unfeeling visor.

The mandolorian slaps restraints on mythrol's wrists, pulling him up and out of his chair in one swift motion, the disparaged lump following along with his hands bound together. He seemed resigned to his fate as he was pulled out of the cantina, leaving in his wake and eruption of whispers and a few sobs of relief from the clientele of the bar. I myself was in a state of shock by what had happened and the intense speed at which it had occurred, Standing in front of a table with drops of blood on it not knowing what to do next. Mythrol had cheated me out of a lot of money, and he was just walking away, atoning for crimes he didn't commit against me. that in and of itself felt somewhat fair, fair to any of the galaxy he had screwed over so far.

My body flew back to my table mostly on its own, smashing into the chair at which I had just been sitting less than a minute ago. I hauled my ridiculously large bag over one shoulder, the extra strap free in the wind. I knew i had to at least try. for myself. Running back to the door panel where the halfed creature had met his end, I slammed the controls urgently, opening the door back out to the wild wind of Maldo Keris. Scanning the nearby environment was hard without protective goggles to shield me from the dust and yuck in the wind, but I spotted a pair of hulking figures 15 yards from the cantina, moving at a steady pace away. Try for me, I can do this one thing for myself. I sprinted as fast as I could with the pack over one shoulder, making me surely look like some sort of lame bantha to any possible onlookers. "Wait! wait please!" I called out to the mandolorian, my tone accidentally becoming demanding, but I think that helped to get the mandolorian's attention. They stopped and Mythrol looked at the mando, as if he was pleading to get him away from me in fear I had came back just to fight a mandolorinan for a chance to stab him again. As tantalizing as that thought was, the actions I were taking were purely selfish. I deserve justice just as much as any poor sap sad enough to cross paths with the scamming womp rat or the mystery person who called for the bounty.

"Please let me come with you for when you collect his bounty." I asked somberly, stopping my chase a few paces away from the pair standing together. "I swear I wont take the credits from you, I just want to see him pay for what he's done." Tiny beads of sweat pearled at my brow, my breath was labored in my throat. Even walking with my bag was hard, but I had just chased down a bounty hunter and his captive. Strands of my hair stuck to my forehead and I wiped them away with the back of my forearm once they crept into my eyes.

Mytrhol had to get his two cents in of course, holding the bounty hunter by the cape and making his eyes go wide with worry. "I don't know who this person is, don't let them come along, they could try to hurt me!" He plead, tugging on the cape like a whiny child. Now the anger came back, a cold rage in my fists, ready to start brutalizing someone at the drop of a pin. I narrowed my eyes at Mythrol, who didst bother to return the look. the mandolorian stared for a moment, looking off behind me in thought. The worry then set in, a fear whispered in the back of my skull 'You'll never get your closure and die alone on this hell planet.' My eyes went to the obsidian visor of the mando, creasing my brows together, subconsciously chewing on my lip as he made his decision. Loosening his shoulders, he slumped his head downward, as if morally defeated. I was taken aback by the conflict he was having about weather or not to let a weird stranger aboard his ship or not. oddly enough I understood his seeming frustration, I wouldn't let me go if I were him. He picked his head up after a second, looking me up and down as if to study me entirely. I felt eyes over my body, it was weirdly intimate. When he made his way back up to my eyes, he stood in silence for a moment before asking. "Do you have any weapons on you besides the blade?"

Certainly a different question than what I thought was going to be asked, so for the answer, I had to think about it for a moment, mentally going through my bag and person. "n, no. I have my vibroblade. and a sack full of my electrician's tools, but they arn't traditional weapons." I responded earnestly, my tone going flat again. Another moment of silence, Mythrol looking quickly between the bounty hunter and myself.

"If you truly wish to see the bounty delivered, I can take you to the trade. In exchange for the ride there, my ship needs mild internal repairs. If you try to cross me," He paused, a hand went to his blaster as a warning. A flashback to the cantina entered my forethought, the image of his hand on his blaster the same way as it was now moments before a man got cut in half. The warning was received properly, I felt thoroughly intimidated. "You'll be dead before you could pray to any gods." damn. That was intense. thoroughly intimidated, to the core. i took a breath in, almost allowing myself time to rethink my request in its entirity. but i responded with a quick nod. I knew my way around most ship interiors, if the ship wasn't rusted and breaking in half on take off, i knew i'd be able to mend it.

The mandolorian gave no other word to me and turned, walking towards the ice flats docking crew. I allowed myself a cheeky smirk, fulfillment at the succession in my pursuit gave my heart a good warm squeeze. Following along behind the mandoloian a pace, he negotiated with the docking crew, asking oddly enough for a live pilot, not a droid. Some harmonic whistling came from the ferryman, hailing over a rust bucket of a speeder. As the speeder came to a stop to collect its haul, rusted pieces of under backing fell from the rear, clanking to the ice annoyingly. We all loaded into the speeder, I sat in front with the driver, the mando and his bounty in the back, a gloved hand around Mythrol's bicep at all times. We reached out frozen destination, the driver of the speeder calling one last warning to the three of us after collecting his dues and puttering off towards the port.

I took a moment to asses the hull of the razor crest, it wasn't too bad for a pre new republic vessel. Some battle scars here and there around the landing gear, a charred blaster fire mark on the windows of the cockpit. This was truly the ship of a bounty hunter. Turning to follow the speeder's course, I couldn't help but feel a deep unease, he had warned about the ice planet's personal creature of death, Ravanack. Just then, the entire rusty hull of the speeder and its driver were swallowed whole in a single angry bite. The ravanack retreated back into the ice just as Mythroll let out a girlish scream of terror. He booked it twords the mandolorian who was opening the hatch to the belly of his ship, screaming for dear life to let him in. The ice where the speeder was swallowed started cracking in the direction of the ship, very quickly speeding directly at Mythrol.

My instincts kicked in and I hopped out of the way, swinging myself onto the floor of the cargo hold of the ship with the momentum of my bag. Just as i got out of harms way, the mandolorian swung himself out of the ship to grab the petrified blue idiot only moments before the jaws of his early death lunged out of the ice, driving sickeningly deep into the landing gear of the razor crest. I winced at the damage done, scrambling back away from the flying Mythroll the mando had haphazardly chucked at me. The mandolorian seemed to ignore me entirely, herding his bounty into the cockpit with him. As the engines revved and the propellers blasted their heat down towards the ice at max capacity, the beast clung tightly to its prey of metal and paint, determined wholeheartedly to bring the ship down to its frigid death. The mando hopped down the ladder, rushing to the cargo bay door with his riffle. he stabbed the bayonet into the beast's head, sending a current of electricity into its skull. the beast roared furiously, releasing the ship and sinking back into the inky ocean.

I collected myself and scrambled up off the floor. the cargo bay doors closed quickly, leaving the mandolorian and myself in the ambient humming of the bay. His breast plate rose and fell, getting less an less noticeable as he calmed down. turning towards me. He nodded at a upturned metal basket with a weather worn blanket tossed over it. I took the hint and put my bag on top of the makeshift stool, retrieving from it my more universal tools. Going from one job to another wasn't my ideal, but this was a more opportunistic adventure. My original goal was only ever to get off the sun bitten planet i was from, beyond that was up to fate, and I can't really complain about where it took me today. Now i'm headed to gods know where with a mandolorian and his bounty who single-handedly ruined the last year and a half's hard work I had done. turning my head towards the mandolorian, I saw him stand in the hallway between the cargo bay and the cockpit, eyeing his bounty.

Words hung on the end of my tongue, ready to ask millions of questions out of pure adrenaline fueled thrill. But I stopped myself from spilling over, taking notice of the details in the mando's body for the first time. For the most feared warrior in the galaxy, this man looked as any other bounty hunter. His armor was chipped and dented, highlighting the flaws in the outer most shell of himself. A deep rooted curiosity took roots just then, desiring to know more of what laid under his iron and bescar plates. "Where should I start working first?" I asked as politely as possible. feeling a need to use respective words when in the presence of a man who just stabbed a water beast in the head. This got his attention away from the bounty if only for a moment. He paused for a second, going through the archives of his mind to see where needed the most urgent attention. Turning 180 degrees, he lifted a gloved hand to point at the panel of buttons and levers at the end of the metal room. It looked mostly in tact, but only mostly. There was blaster char at the center of the damage, near the bottom left hand corner of the panel itself. "Yikes." I whispered mostly to myself, reaching in my bag for a clean oil rag. Acknowledging the mandolrian's request with a glance and half nod, I got to work at the station. It looked to be the control panel for the gun hold under the main cargo bay. The possible stories tied with the maiming of this piece of equipment swarmed my mind, finding my own way of theorizing any number of adventurous tales.

A few minutes go by, tweaking the damaged area as best I could to fit my hands into the circuitry. Mythroll passed by quickly, entering the open door of the munitions hold to the ladder down. I got nervous for a moment, than I heard him calling back to the mandolorian pilot, talking about molting and stellar seasons. What an odd being. Slimy thieving nerfhearder. Going back to work, not questioning the reasons tmythroll went down there. so wrapped up, figuratively and literally, in the wires of the control panel, i hadn't noticed mando sneaking past me, silent as death. I hadn't noticed him, that is, until I heard the thumping and crashing of combat and the pitiful yelps of the bounty rise to draw my attention toward the lower hold. Mythroll's shout cut short with an angry metallic hiss. The fear now taking a hold of my stomach, I pulled my hand out of the tangle to look nervously down the ladder, seeing the mando start his ascent. "carbon freezing." he said simply. I know his intention was to explain what had just happen in hopes to ease my worry, but no. it worried me more. Drawing my thought to the intense reality that I was willingly trapped on the ship of a proven dangerous bounty hunter. I felt rather idiotic in that moment, the crushing weight of the situation bringing me to a moral defeat. The mando slid by me, his body language more casual than it should have been seeing as how he had just half killed someone in the hold of his ship. He paused momentarily, looking over my work. nodding, He left in silence, returning to the cockpit.

After a second, I gathered my thoughts and took a deep breath into my lungs. The reality of my life now was flipped upside down and tossed into a spinning vortex of crazy, but I know my strengths. I know myself and what i can handle. This? was obviously odd and scary and new, but the skills I cary can get me far. Exhaling, I focused my mind at the task at hand. Knowing my entire world was going to be changing from here on out was more calming than expected. The determination I felt towards my own new chapter of life soothed my aching back and fried nerves. This was going to be epic.

A/N: i'm so glad to have finally finished this, holy hell ;-;

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moonbelt · 4 years ago

Text

𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐮𝐬 [ᴍ]

↳ classical mythology au | the story of icarus au

⇢ pairing: chanyeol | reader

⇢ genre: angst + smut + fluff

⇢ word count: 14,101 (this one’s a lil beast)

⇢ description: on the day of the summer solstice a piece of the sun crashes down to earth and perhaps it was fate that led him to you.

⇢ warnings: handjobs, a bit of a size difference kink, small dom/sub undertones, butchering classical mythology to fit the plot.

It felt like the world was burning at your feet.

That was understandable. It was the morning of the longest day of summer after all. But for the ground to be so hot that the heat speared through the soles of your work boots? That bit was new. You were quite sure your town was hitting an all-new high record for the hottest day of the year.

Even as you cooped yourself in your basement workshop, the sun still seemed to boil you to death. You could only imagine how awful it was outside. But you couldn't afford to stall on your invention. It was either now or never. You were a go big or go home type of person.

Today was the big day. The Summer Solstice. And even though you couldn't be bothered by your town's usual theatrics and a false sense of grandeur, this was the one event you loved. The one event in which you got to showcase your creations and earn a bucketload of exclusive offers from neighboring patrons that came to visit.

The longest day of summer was a huge festival. For one night you got to experience the finest things the world had to offer in your small, somewhat average life. And you loved it. For one day the townspeople put away their reservations towards you and your father and for one day, you allowed yourself to dream of flying away from this tightly-knit prison.

Forcing things into being from scraps and the dregs of society was something that gave you purpose. Something that in a tiny way puts you on the map. Fueled your somewhat childish dream of someday crawling your way out of this labyrinth-Esque settlement.

The first time you snuck into your father's workshop hadn't been by accident. Even though your father had cautioned you away from the basement because he was scared you'd interfere with his process or perhaps worse; injure yourself. But at nine years old there was only so much that could keep your mind from wandering away and the townsfolk weren't exactly forthcoming with letting their heirs and next of kins play with you.

Well, to be honest, most of them didn't welcome you at all. Not that you minded. Not that you cared. They called your father a genius to his face but a madman to his back. But that was fine too. There was a fine line between the two. You thought Little Tommy was quite literally the ugliest baby to be born in the whole wide world and when Little Tommy's mother did something you hated like shoo you away from the front of her bakery, you let her know exactly that.

So yeah, no hard feelings.

But your father's workshop had always felt like the hottest place on earth. If not for that fact that you'd been so utterly bored with schoolwork and the fantasy book you'd been able to sneak out of the library, you doubted you'd even have wanted to step foot in the dark, sweltering ass crack of hell. But if you were anything it was determined.

Some might call you stubborn. Some may even call it foolishness on your part. But you know that it was destiny. A reckoning. Fate. Maybe even a homecoming of sorts. Because in there you found your true passion. Something that tied you ephemerally to this world.

In that workshop, you saw your father create things that no one had ever dared or tried to before. But of course, he did. That was the whole reason they called him a madman by night.

In fact, you were quite certain that the townspeople revered and feared him at the same time. After all, there was still a rumor going 'round that he'd been the one to orchestrate and invent the quintessential labyrinth town you lived in. But that was a different story, one you didn't care to tell. And one you believed — at the time — didn't affect you at all.

You've been wrong about many things. Your father had made it a point to let you know in every way of what you lacked and in what you failed in. But also in what you thrived. And building, no, inventing, came easily to you. Like you'd been born for it. More than destiny, more like preordained. You didn't have a choice, didn't even want one. And you'd been helpless to stop it.

But now the workshop was your life. You lived in it, breathed it and in a sense maybe you worshipped it. It gave you a sense of being after all. The whole town could isolate you, and that they did expertly, but they still hammered down your doorstep for your helpful creations that helped ease the way of life.

You both loved and loathed how much they depended on you but it was what it was. You tried not to let it bother you much anymore.

After numerous hours of grinding at your workstation, and perfecting your latest design, you climbed out of the heated workshop basement and welcomed the fresh breeze of the cool air outside.

You'd been working on a new device that would help speed up the process of washing your daily wear. At the moment the mechanics were quite frankly the best they could ever be, but you were tinkering with it for the utmost perfection for tonight. Hell, you'd already picked out an apt name for it: The Washy-Washer. Okay, yes, it did sound a bit silly, a bit ridiculous, but you weren't going to call it the hand-washer. You cringed solely at the thought.

But you needed a break. Your back was killing you and you were quite literally tired of washing all of your socks. Even if the machine did do most of it.

You took a deep breath and fixed your gaze on the sun. It was calm and quiet in this part of town. The outskirts. But the sun was always loud. At least to you. It always felt as if the sun was trying to burn out your eyes and no matter how much you wanted to look away, you couldn't. It demanded your attention. And you gave it because what else could you do?

It wasn't like the sun was especially pretty, or particularly different than any other sun you'd seen in the last early twenty-something years of your life. But it wasn't like the sun was ugly either, so you didn't mind looking at it. Even if it did hurt your eyes.

And just like every other day, you raised a palm to the sky and imagined yourself grasping the burning sun in your hands. You imagined it would feel like a hot coal on your skin, a little bit reinvigorating but with a whole lot of pain. You wondered if it was a good thing that you thought you'd like that.

And like what had become your new normal, you daydreamed of creating wings like the birds you envied. Wings that could take you anywhere you wanted. Wings that could actually fly. The dream had been plaguing you for weeks like a disease. Visions of you donning on misshapen not-even-close-to-sturdy wings and just soaring. You weren't quite sure where you'd fly to. Maybe you'd just go until you were too tired to move.

"You are going to turn into a field of ash," the charismatic yet sarcastic voice of the town's resident homebody (and the only person that responded to your flyer looking for a housemate) yelled from inside the house.

You guess you were getting predictable these days. Too much staring at the sun and getting almost sunburnt and less of hiding in your workshop.

"The weather's trying to murder me out here," you grumbled as you pushed the creaky front door open and tapped the dirt from the bottom of your boots. "And that's how you treat me?"

Kyungsoo looked up from stirring the pot he had on the stove to shoot you an exasperated look. You had half the mind to tell him of how domestic he looked just to mess with him. "I'm preventing you from dying a sudden and painful death."

"I put a roof over your head."

"Well, I pay rent and I feed you."

It wasn't like you could you beat that. You couldn't cook for the life of you. When your father had been alive he had handled all the cooking for fear of you burning water. And when he'd married, his new wife Nau had taken over the role.

Nau was a nice woman. Although you thought sometimes that she treated you a bit too much like you were her biological daughter and not her extended family. It was fine though because at least she talked to you. Plus she told all her townie friends about the stuff you created. And she made a bomb fish-tail soup.

When your father died, she'd resorted to dropping off a weekly supply of cooked meals at your door. But with Kyungsoo around, the need had for it had practically stopped. And even though you would never tell her, Kyungsoo's cooking was way more phenomenal than hers. But you had manners, albeit a little rusty.

"You can't hold food over my head. That's just wrong." You made your way to the sink and washed the grime off your hands and face. "Plus, I gave you a friend discount when I fixed your calculator last week."

"True. But it is easy to get the friend discount when I’m your only friend," he easily replied as he moved and dumped two servings of what looked like and smelled like his signature fried rice.

You smiled to yourself. If only your dad could see you now. Making friends? Well, a friend. Singular. The town wasn't completely shitty. But Kyungsoo wasn't fond of the place either. You weren't exactly sure what caused him to uproot his life from the middle of the town where he was revered as a young chef-like god. But when he'd taken you up on your offer to be housemates to help reduce living costs six months ago, you can't say you minded.

He was a pretty easy going person and all he ever seemed to do was cook.

"So, are you still not going to have your own stall for the solstice?" You asked after you thanked him for the food and the two of you had retreated to the table set for two.

Kyungsoo shrugged, dropping his utensil to run a hand through his cropped short inky hair. "No cooking for large people ever again. They never appreciate it anyway. I'm going to be a normal person at the festival. You know, I hear the fireworks at the end are amazing."

They were. Your father used to be in charge of the mass production of them for the event. "Yeah. They're like big exploding balls of magic."

He smiled ruefully. "Can't wait."

The two of you finished your food in silence and by the time you were done you were already back to absently dreaming about wings and flying. It was abnormal the way you were fixated on it. Building wings won't be easy, heck if they were even remotely doable someone would've done it already. But it felt like an itch on your skin. Almost like you had to at least try.

Perhaps when the party was over you'd dive headfirst into it and start researching how you would even go about it. It wasn't like you had the arm strength to keep flapping your arms like a crazed person through the damn sky.

If Kyungsoo noticed your lack of speaking, he didn't mention it. And when you'd finished washing the dishes and placing them to dry. You turned to find him sifting through a handful of mail on the table. He'd been getting a ton of letters from former customers that begged him to come back and reopen his restaurant. He promptly discarded them in the bin immediately after.

"Hey, can I ask you a question?"

"You'd just ask me anyway, regardless of my answer."

True. But you like you'd said 'manners.' "You ever think about flying?"

He peered up from the littered papers. "Thinking about inventing some kind of flying death trap?"

"Hah hah hah. Jokes on you when I actually do it." You scoffed at him. Did he think you couldn't do it? You'd show him. You weren't sure how but you would. "You'd beg me to make one for you to fly out of this hellhole too."

"Well, when you put it like that I can't, in good conscience, discourage you from it. Even though I know it's a very bad idea."

"A bad idea? Nay, I say. It's the best I've ever had!"

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes at your boastful demeanor. "Where would you even fly to?"

You didn't even have to think about it. "The sun."

You'd get up close and personal with the beast that beat down on your skin day in day out. It'd hurt like hell, you knew that. But you didn't care. You weren't planning on kissing the sun or anything. Just somewhere close to it. Maybe it'd cure you off your dreams of having your body floating in a bright, hellish landscape.

Maybe flying close enough to the sun just once would be enough. You'd come back down. It'd be the greatest achievement of your whole life. Your magnum opus. You weren't trying to die but there was a whole world up there that was calling out to you like a siren at sea. And you were going to fly. You swore on it.

Even if it meant you crash-landed from space back to earth.

The Summer Solstice celebrations had already been in full swing for a few hours by the time you and Kyungsoo made it to the heart of the town. The festivals were never all that lavish or even truly a feat of major grandiose but more of a holiday to the small community. The neighboring towns visited annually and it made good to the vineyards when everyone was drunk around the bonfire with golden and russet marigolds braided into their hairs.

Colorful streamers were erected around the sides of the cobblestone roads, the sun was on the precipice of setting with the sky marred in a beautiful match of blue, orange and purple. You watched as little kids you didn’t know and old people you did flocked round in queues at various booths marveling at the creative food options.

You stopped by numerous stalls and stands that piqued your interest. Maybe it was because it was the solstice that made all the snacks taste even more heavenly than normal. Or maybe the bolstering heat had finally fried your head.

You were having fun hauling the Washy-Washer around and having people ask you what the hell it was. You’d packed a bountiful amount of socks for the demonstrations.

And when you walked away with a cold snack in your hand and a customer swearing from here to the moon that they’ll be at the shop tomorrow to pick up an order; a burst of pride swelled in your chest. Big enough for you to join in on the crowd’s summer singing. A while after you’d finished your word-of-mouth promotion, you even sold the very one you’d brought out with you.

Kyungsoo and you watched as hundreds of fellow young adult townsfolk flooded the streets decked out head to toe with the most glitzy, sheer and barely covering cloths available. It was hot and it was a festival, so no one particularly cared.

But you guess you stuck out like a sore thumb in your practical shorts and thin tank. But you weren’t part of the show so it didn’t really matter. Plus the outfits of the solstice attendees were so bizarre that you dressing a tad normal wasn’t cause for alarm. And you guessed Kyungsoo was having fun because he was running his mouth talking about the essence and the umami of a popsicle… He was learned like that.

Pushing through the crowds, you made the most of the festival. It was a bright thing. With paper lanterns floating around and above. People didn’t make an effort to seek you out in conversation but you cracked enough jokes with your friend to forget about that. Later on, Kyungsoo had been rightfully cornered by his old friends and you had given him your permission to go forth and get ultimately wasted. You promised him that you’d get drunk telepathically as well. He’d laughed.

By the time you had made it to the bonfire in the middle of the Town Square, you almost felt as if you were like everyone else. Paying for overpriced solstice marketed booze, your body felt like you were soaring. Free. You got close enough that you felt the flames of the bonfire licking and dancing across your skin and it was almost ironic how homely you felt with it.

And like year after year, the solstice let everyone shed their inhibitions. But just as the night was getting even wilder, you knew it was time for you to head back home. You could tell when you weren’t wanted. And You were pushing it without Kyungsoo by your side. People thought you were a bit mad like your father.

You won’t lie. He had been dedicated to his craft and defied the world at every turn. But he had also been a little insane. Perhaps that was where you got your stubbornness bordering on self-destruction.

You were already busy crocking up ways in which you’d start building your wings on your way back home. It was going to be a long journey to get something even manageable but you’d do it. The closer you got to your house, the less of the bustling town you heard. It was almost as if the bright festival didn’t reach your part of town. Like you were hidden in the ultimate cloak of darkness.

But that was fine. Because one day you’d have wings. One day you’d fly out of here like a bat out of hell.

And just as a droopy smile made its way to your face there came a blinding light followed by a loud and resounding thud. It shook the very core of the earth, all the way up to the enamel of your teeth.

You could swear that the sheer brightness of the light alone burnt your retinas clean off. Before you could even process what was going on, your body felt like it was incinerating from the inside. It was so hot around you that you weren’t just sweating profusely, you were melting. There was no other word for it. You clawed at your arms in a bid to do something, anything, but the mass of slick sweat on it caused your palms to slip and slip.

God, you were going to burn to death. You were screaming before you realized it. It felt like the sun was right next to you. Instead of you flying to it, it had come right down to you. And you were going to go out in a cloud of ashy dust.

But just as quickly as the heat had flamed your skin, it was gone. Leaving only the stinging sensation of your skin and tears cooling on top of your cheekbones. The cool night air caressed your skin like a salve and you whimpered a little.

What in the burning hell was that?

You were afraid. You squeezed your eyes and hugged your body. You hadn’t even realized that you had fallen to your knees. To make matters worse, your heart was beating so loudly in your ears that it overpowered all the weak sobs from falling from your lips.

Gods, you absolutely did not want to open your eyes to whatever was out there. You’d rather run blindly all the way back home.

Maybe you were cursed? Your father had told you that the gods’ anger and wrath were fickle things. Easy to provoke and swift to enact. But what on earth could you have done to deserve it? Ah, maybe if you could just open your eyes a little bit. A tiny fraction. Practically minuscule. You won’t even notice.

But when you finally managed to peel your eyelids open, you were confronted with someone kneeling right in front of you. His frame was so big that it dwarfed you and made you feel even smaller. It was undeniable that this person right in front of you wasn’t from around here. You’d never met him, never even seen him before. You’d know if you had. He had a kind of face people got mesmerized by and subsequently spent years trying to recreate it in all their art or died trying. Dramatic shit like that.

“This was not supposed to happen,” he said, his voice breathless and airy like wind and yet deep and soul bending like rock.

Huh, funny how just as you were finally catching your bearings, the hair on your arms decided to prickle to prim attention like he was inspecting them.

“Yeah?” That’s all you got? A yeah? Gods, someone throw you in a hole. You cleared your throat as you turned your gaze anywhere but his face. “Well, I swear I don’t usually burst out crying on the street like a madwoman.”

“No, no. That would be my fault.” Now that captured your attention with vice-like intensity. “I didn’t anticipate just how much heat I would give off when I reached down. Humans are sensitive. I’m very sorry if I hurt you. It is my first time on land. I’ll do better next time,” he sounded remorseful but your face scrunched up more as his words registered.

Huh. Maybe your hearing was off because what did he mean by literally anything he’d just said… Firstly, him? Hurt you? Sure he was as big as your bed frame back home and yeah, you’d never met him before. And of course, you were wary of strangers but him? He looked like he could barely hurt the ground he walked on. Squinting your eyes at him, you scrutinized his all-white attire.

Frankly, he looked like a prince. With the way, he held himself up with a dignity that just screamed regality. And even his knee that was on the ground didn’t appear to have a single stain on the white slacks. There was no royal court in your town but from the books you’d read, you imagined he was what they dressed like. With pearly white rings adorning his fingers and a tiny strip of an embellished white gold band wrapped around his tanned forehead that was framed by his blondish almost white hair.

You swiped the back of your index finger above your top lip to remove the sweat that had built up there. “There’s going to be a next time?”

He smiled, a wild thing it was because it felt like the sun was beaming straight out from his teeth. Gods, how white were those things? Did he bleach them?

“It depends. If I don’t do anything stupid while I’m here I’m sure Father would allow me to come back. He allows my siblings to fly down all the time.” He sounded almost petulant at the fact and then like he was talking to himself, his voice quieted but perhaps he’d never practiced whispering before because his voice was still way above hearing range. “But I’m sure even they have never almost charred a human down to nothing.”

“You felt that too, didn’t you?” You barely understood what was going on as is, but he was right in front of you. Like he’d been born out of the heat.

His eyes fluttered from the top of your head to your shaking hands to your knees now scuffed from the ground. “Felt what?”

“Oh, you know the blazing inferno that just swept through here.”

“Ha, I do not know of what you speak of.”

“I’m a lot of things… dumb isn’t one of them.” You forced yourself to ignore the stinging in your knees as you rose to your full height. He did the same. “Now, I don’t know what you are and I don’t really care but, did one of the gods send you? I hear Zeus can be a bit of a bitch.”

You were right about one thing, this man towered over you for sure. You always thought you were kind of tall, but he would need to lift you by your armpits to even be on the same eye level. You didn’t know how to feel about that but you weren’t scared.

“No one sends me except Father. Sometimes it is necessary. Like now,” he said not even remotely disturbed by your accusations. “I do not speak ill of Zeus but he can be, how you say bitch but respectfully?”

You gawked at him with half the mind to laugh. Actually, you were pretty sure a few giggles escaped your lips. You? Giggling? This night was only getting trickier and weirder. You blamed the booze. It was the only reasonable culprit in all this. Surely, this man did not just ask you for a more polite version of such a nasty word.

“You’re a funny one.” You tried and failed to keep the amusement out of your voice.

“Or perhaps humans are just easily entertained,” he replied but he was smiling as well. He angled his head and peered around the dark road, almost like he was expecting to see something extraordinary burst out. “I thought tonight is the first day of estival? That is why I chose today to come down.”

“Oh, you mean the solstice festival?” You followed his gaze around the steep and vanishing road behind you. “If you still want to catch the end of it, you’d have to walk a long way deeper.”

There wasn’t much to look at down these parts of town. A scrap metal yard was located a few miles to your right behind another valley. But there was a good number of brick houses milling about. Not everyone could afford to live in the affluent and bustling heart of the town and not everyone even wanted to. Your house was about ten more minutes away but you couldn’t see it from here.

You wondered what this very strange man thought of when he looked around the land especially when the lanterns that outlined the street were few in between and flickering like their lives were one breath away from being completely snuffed out.

He turned his gaze back to you and you felt as his eyes commanded your body to attention. For some reason, he seemed a bit sad. “I see.”

“Well, if you run you could probably still make it. If that’s the reason you came into town then you shouldn’t miss it. The fireworks go on for most of the night. You can see them from here but it’s always better up close.”

“You will not go?” He asked, his head cocking to the side.

You grinned. “Nope. I’ve got to sleep the alcohol out. Tomorrow I start on my magnum opus.”

You weren’t sure if he quite understood what you meant but he nodded his head all the same. And it was then you really realized that even though the night was dark and the lanterns were dim, he seemed to glow. His skin alone appeared to shimmer and bleed light. And although it wasn’t bright enough to burn, it felt to you like he was blazing.

He didn’t say anything in response and when you started to feel the trickle of awkwardness slip down your spine you swiveled your eyes to the side. “I’ll just get going now.”

Quickly, you pivoted on your heel and began the stroll to your house. It wasn’t like you needed to know this mystery man. And you could chock the burning episode your body experienced earlier to the alcohol messing up with your system. Yeah, that was it. Of course, it was! If after a night of fitful rest it came again, then and only then would you make a big deal out of it.

You hummed to yourself on your way back and for some inane reason, you had a bit more pep in your step. Like your talk with the mystery man invigorated you or something. But that couldn’t be true, you’d only just met him and you didn’t even know his name.

Hah, you felt like you could start on your wings project right this second. A clear mind and non-intoxicated emotions be damned. You’d already started preliminary sketches of how you wanted it to look like. Soon, you were going to head out to the scrap yard and sift for materials. Hopefully, you found things good enough.

You were in a good mood. One of the bests since your father died last spring. Your father had been your only companion for a long time. And he’d been your everything. Your role model, your shining light. The one that believed in you more than you believed in yourself. And although you’d admit, he had fueled your stubbornness to the point of annoyance, but he’d been your best friend.

And today, almost a year and a half later it felt like you were finally releasing a breath you’d held in for so long.

But you must have been crazy out of tune with the outside world because you did not realize that there was a second silhouette following closely behind you. It wasn’t until you’d fished your copy of the house keys from your pockets and had already begun the act of shoving them into the keyhole that the presence behind dawned on you.

You flipped around, ready to claw the person’s eyes out with your bare hands if it got down to that only to meet the same brown eyes you’d just left down at the crossroads.

It appeared that this man was getting more tangled with you than you’d anticipated.

“Did you get lost or something?” You sighed as you relaxed your stance a tad. The sleepy part of drinking was quickly catching up to you. “This is really far from the festivities.”

He blinked at you. Once. Twice. And then scanned your old mismatched, creaky door that you’d sworn you’d get changed after your father had died but procrastination got even the best of you. He didn’t seem repulsed by it but you thought it contrasted too deeply against his pristine white clothes. Was it possible for the wood to scuff his fitted embroidered mantle? He stuck out so much in front of your house but he didn’t seem to care about that at all.

“The first person we meet on land is our fatum. I stay with you till I find what I was sent for.” He said in lieu of an explanation. He poked a finger into the sliver of space between his neck and his collared shirt and pulled the garment nervously. “At least that’s what Father and the rest of my brothers said.”

Fatum? You weren’t quite sure what that word meant. But you remembered that he’d spoken about this mission he’d been sent here for. You wondered if he was like you in a way. Perhaps he only had his father and his siblings. Maybe this was his first time leaving his village?

Sure, his sentences were a bit weird and it sounded like you and him were on way two different pages. Because what did any of that have to do with you? You had yet to leave the town. That was probably why you were obsessed with the notion of flying over. But he didn’t look poor or desolate. If anything, he looked like a king surveying over his subjects.

“I still don’t get what you mean by any of that but okay, let’s say I believe you. What were you sent for?”

He cocked his head to the side innocently. “I do not know.”

Gods, you were getting a headache. You suddenly wished you hadn’t partaken in some of the indulgences of the night. Alcohol was definitely not helping your situation right now. You weren’t drunk per se but you could already feel a truck of nausea knocking on your door.

“Then how would you know when you’ve found what you were sent over here for?” Never mind the fact that you couldn’t babysit this man you’d never met. You were going to be super busy fulfilling orders and building wings. “Plus normal people don’t just let random strangers follow them around. I don’t even know your name! Some might even call this stalking.”

“I have many names,” he slid his index finger away from bruising the collar of his shirt, ignoring your first question. “But you may call me Chanyeol. And I will not stalk you for I do not really know what that is.”

“Really?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“Truly.”

“Okay then, Chanyeol. How long are you in town for? And just so you know, I still don’t buy whatever it is your selling.”

“I will be here ’til the end of summer.” Looking you up and down like he suddenly questioned your sanity, he added. “I am not selling anything.”

Odd. This man was very odd. But you had no idea why his oddness was causing the corners of your lips to tilt upwards. Maybe it was because of how serious yet endearing he looked. Or maybe the heat did fry your brain and all your sense of self-preservation and reasoning.

“Is this about the house-sharing offer I put up in the community board?” You rolled your eyes as you crossed your arms across your chest. “That was months ago and I already found someone. I’m sure if you ask someone else they’ll let you room and board with them if you’re willing to pay rent.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

You swore on your left boot that you saw a ghost of a smirk dance across his lips. “Would you let me stay with you if I pay rent?”

Hah. You couldn’t tell if the booze was making everything funnier or what. But he really was funny, this Chanyeol. And dazzling. You would’ve thought he was a living, breathing star.

“Maybe.”

And like you were in a trance, you watched as he reached up to his forehead and carefully unclasped the white jeweled crown-like headband. He held it out to you like you’d even know it’s worth. You stretched out a palm and he dropped it gently. The lingering heat from his body slithered up the skin of your arm.

Chanyeol beamed at you as if he’d just solved all the problems. “Would that be enough?”

To be honest, you weren’t sure. It wasn’t like you carried a human gem to a currency calculator in your head. But when you looked at the band closely, you could tell that the gems were at least real. And the gold wasn’t fake either. Maybe you’d take it downtown and get it looked at. Maybe.

Wait, you couldn’t possibly be considering his offer, could you? And what were you going to tell Kyungsoo? That you just upped and got a new housemate on a whim? Plus no one in town even knew him. Or at least you didn’t. You could handle yourself in a fight but you wouldn’t be able able to do anything if he killed you in your sleep.

Gah, you were tired.

“May I ask what Fatum goes by?” Chanyeol was still smiling. Almost like that was his default setting. You wondered if he truly was happy about all this.

Fatum this. Fatum that. What the ever-loving hell did Fatum even mean?

“You mean what’s my name?” You turned back to your front door and kicked it open. After you’d told him, you let him enter your home. “My name is not Fatum.”

Chanyeol’s tall and lithe body made the space inside your home feel that much smaller. In fact, he seemed to make everything next to him appear to shrink. But he looked around your old house like it was a thing of beauty. You were beginning to doubt if he saw the things you saw. Your house wasn’t ugly by any means but it had definitely seen better days.

“Okay, [y/n],” he conceded but you could hear the barely thought Fatum at the end.

Shaking your head you pointed at the longest couch you had that was placed right in front of the window. “You sleep there tonight.”

He nodded and you didn’t wait around to see if he settled in nicely or not. You weren’t going to think about this weird night any more than necessary. Instead, you were going to go pass out and tomorrow you would kick him out. It left an awful taste in your mouth to leave him stranded and abandoned outside in a foreign town. But that was the extent of your generosity.

And it was with great effort that you decided to not crawl up the stairs to where your room was situated. It took, even more, to not fall on your face. Gods, you swore you’d never drink again.

Tomorrow you would hand him his, clearly expensive, headband back and ask him to leave your mundane life in peace.

But there was a thought nagging and poking you incessantly in the back of your mind. That there was something about him that was tied to you. And the just the fact that you’d already accepted his price meant something you couldn’t yet fathom. Like you’d sold your soul to an unknown.

That night you dreamt of flying like you always did. Soaring and nimbly twisting through an orange and purple-hued sky. It was beautiful. But then you’d reach a point where no matter how many times you pushed yourself upwards, your body kept falling. The wind pressure feeling like crushing boulders on your neck as you struggled. Over and over again.

That night you dreamt that the wings you hadn’t even built yet had already broke.

You woke up with a scratchy throat and a light strum in your bones.

Last night felt more like a personal hallucination than reality. There was no way you’d allowed this Chanyeol person to stay in your house. Your brain didn’t even let you dive into dissecting the meanings of his words yesterday.

He was so freaking weird, you thought to yourself as you stifled a yawn and sat up on your tiny bed. Your hair was a mess since you’d been so out of it that you’d forgotten to braid it in for the night. So that meant you spent a good half an hour teasing the strands out of its convoluted mess. It was a torrid and teary affair.

By the time you’d washed up and gotten ready for the day it was already close to noon. You doubted Kyungsoo would’ve come hone already which meant you had to go down and scavenge for something to eat before you headed down to the scrap yard.

Today was going to be great.

Whistling to yourself mindlessly, you took the stairs two at a time. But when you jumped the last step and landed at the foot of the staircase you belatedly realized that two voices were coming from the kitchen. But that couldn’t be right.

Feeling like you were an intruder in your own home, you gingerly crept closer to the open door that led to Kyungsoo’s claimed area only to see the man you’d told yourself was a hallucination and your housemate. And to make matters even more bizarre, Kyungsoo didn’t look like he was even a tiny bit disturbed by his prescience. What?

“If you’re going to stand there and pretend like you can’t see us, breakfast for you goes straight to the dogs.” Kyungsoo was the first to pierce through your confusion.

You stepped into the kitchen, eyes wide as you stared at Chanyeol like he was wrong to be here. You pointed a finger at him. “You.”

The piece of bread that he was about to stuff in his mouth hung idly from his fingers. It bothered you how at home he looked at your house. And now that you looked at him from the glow of the midday sun, he didn’t look as princely as he had last night. What with his white garments traded for a very comfortable blueish loose pants and a baggy shirt. You wondered where the hell he got a change of clothes from.

Chanyeol’s spine went ramrod straight in the dining chair. “Me.”

Your left eye twitched. “You can’t stay here.”

“I-”

“Sure he can,” Kyungsoo interrupted from his seat at the table. “He says you took his rent for three months.”

You gawked at Chanyeol and you almost threw yourself across the table when you noticed how smug his smile looked. This couldn’t be happening. You didn’t even have an extra room.

“I can stay on the couch. I don’t mind,” Chanyeol replied.

You must have posed your question out loud. Gods, you were going insane. And since when did Kyungsoo side with random strangers over you?

“He’s not random.” Kyungsoo didn’t look up from his food as he pointed to the plate he’d fixed for you on the counter. “And you can’t kick him out. You were complaining last month about being short on money. Maybe you should use him. No offense, Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol nodded and you almost threw your shoe at the side of his head. “No worries, Land Brother.”

Land brother… yeah, maybe you shouldn’t think too much about all this. ‘Cause the more you tried to rationalize it, the more bizarre the whole situation got. If Kyungsoo was okay with him, maybe he truly was harmless? It was true that you were running low on funds. So many things in the house needed repairs and repairs cost a pretty penny. Plus, he was okay with the shitty couch. He couldn’t be that bad, could he?

Muttering to yourself, you grabbed the plate of eggs and toast. You hated eggs but you could never bring yourself to seem ungrateful. So, you dumped your butt into the third chair and begrudgingly had your first meal of the day.

Chanyeol looked eagerly from you and Kyungsoo and when you couldn’t take it anymore you barked out a “What?”

He cleared his throat. “What do we do we do today, [y/n],” he said your name carefully like it was something delicate.

You scrunched your nose at him. “We do nothing. I, on the other hand, will be going scrapping.”

“Scrapping?” He titled his head to the side. He did that a lot. Like you were the confusing one.

“I’m searching for materials I will need to create a set of wings.” You forced the last bit of eggs into your mouth and swallowed without breathing. “You can do whatever you want.”

You finished the rest of your food in record time before thanking Kyungsoo. Chanyeol thanked him as well. You adjusted the buckles of your overalls. Chanyeol retied the laces of his stretchy pants that you still wondered where they’d come from. You stuck your socked feet into your boots that you’d placed next to the front door. Chanyeol gracefully wore his white shoes from last night.

You pretended he wasn’t right next to you but it was impossible with how broad he was. His height alone blocked the sunlight and cast a shadow upon you. But he was smiling so eagerly like a puppy that was being let out for the first time.

Pushing through the front door, you allowed him to catch up with you. Reluctantly at first, you began pointing out your neighbors’ houses and the few things about your side of town that you thought were interesting enough. But every time you peered you at him for his reaction, he looked amazed. And soon enough, you got into your role as a self-appointed tour guide.

“Over there’s the Old Well. I fell into it when I was a kid and it hurt but it wasn’t too bad. I wasn’t afraid of the water or anything. My father got me out pretty quick too.”

A few of the townspeople had stopped to stare at Chanyeol but you were beginning to understand that he didn’t understand his effect on people. Maybe he was used to it, but you weren’t. The feeling of many eyes leering at you made you feel off.

“You only have your father. Like me.”

“Yeah.”

“Is that why you want to fly?” He halted his steps and although you were the one in the lead, you complied. “This magnum opus of yours. Does it have to do with your father?”

You laughed. “’ Course not. I’m doing this because I want to. Actually, it’s more like a calling. I feel like I can’t rest until I’ve done this.”

“Hmm,” he lifted his palm and laid it on your head. It didn’t feel weird. It felt more comforting and soft than anything. You didn’t breathe. “You and I, we’re more alike than you think.”

“H-how so?” You stammered.

Chanyeol leaned in closer and even though you were already holding your breath, you seized up completely. “Yesterday you asked me how I would know what I was sent for, correct?” He did not wait for an answer. “My mission is like a calling. I feel it and I am helpless to stop it. So, I follow it.”

You understood that. That was the one cryptic thing he’d said in hours that you fully understood. You did not dwell on the implications of that. You were too busy staring at his lips. It looked like clouds and when he smiled, sun rays shine through the gap between them.

He pulled his fingers away from your hair and you almost begged him to put it back. What the hell was wrong with you? You were going mad. Chanyeol clasped his arms behind him and tilted his head to the sky and you watched, mesmerized. Even in regular clothes, doing the most normal of things, he appeared almost godlike.

“You can help,” you found yourself saying. “I need all the help I can get anyway.”

His head snapped to you at a dizzying speed. “I accept.”

Time stood still once you’d made this pact with him. You didn’t hear the birds chirping, you didn’t feel the breeze swaying around the two of you as you stood in the eye of a hurricane. Just his eyes on you. Your eyes on him. Nothing else seemed to matter. And that sense of falling vibrated deep in your bones like a warning.

You did not heed. You did not run or cower. For some reason, you embraced it.

It was unprecedented the way Chanyeol slid into your life like a missing piece you didn't know you were missing.

And it was funny how his presence no longer bothered you because he was everywhere. When you woke up in the mornings and hauled ass downstairs. He was right beside you as you delivered Washy-Washer orders. Most of the time he did all the heavy-lifting of materials you found while scrapping. He truly was everywhere.

The only thing that bothered you was how easy it was with him.

Sometimes you found yourself going throughout the whole day preparing for a singular joke just to simply see your best smile of the day grace his face. He laughed at every and anything, granted. But you felt pride when his loud, deep laughs turned into guffaws that shook through his body. The kind of laughter that made him clap his hands together like a seal.

Chanyeol was thoughtful in a way you’d never experienced before. He was always on your side and you couldn't understand why. Or rather, you’d begun to tell yourself that it didn't matter. Because the more you were around him you realized that you didn't particularly mind.

He didn't mind being in the ass crack of hell, AKA your workshop. And to be honest, you thought that was his favorite place in the entire house. But he was always complaining about having to wear a shirt. And not because it was so hot he wanted to shed his skin. It felt like it was the other way around. Like he fed off the heat.

So, it came as no surprise to you when one month in he walked into your workshop shirtless as the day he was born. You almost smashed your finger with the hammer you held.

“No, get out,” you barely managed to speak. “You have to wear a shirt in here.”

“Says who?” These days he was smugger, bolder, and clearly did not care if you spontaneously erupted in a nosebleed.

You struggled to find apt words as you looked everywhere but his damned face. He was way too beautiful for his own good. And careless about it too. You didn't have the most prolific experiences with the opposite sex. None of them really were all that attractive to you.

But Chanyeol. O gods, Chanyeol. It was like he’d brazenly stepped into the starring role in all your fantasies. His chest resembled the washboard you’d previously used to wash your clothes. And by every will of your body, you wanted to lick it. Ah, you were going insane. He was making you insane.

“No. Nope. I’m not doing this with you.” You threw the hammer down and pretended like the haphazard clump of wood and made feathers was phenomenal work compared to the godlike creature you refused to look at.

You could feel his insolent smirk from a mile away. “Come on. You should do it with me.”

“You want me to get naked?” Gods, you were killing yourself here.

He placed a veiny hand on his waist and chided you. “Well, I meant shirtless but I won’t stop you. You can do whatever you want, I won’t mind.”

Please, you were about to commune with the dead at this rate.

Your whole body was on fire. This wasn't the first exchange like this between the two of you. It was getting more and more unbearable. You were going to kick him out of the house before you dissolved into a puddle of embarrassment.

Chanyeol moved closer to you and you swore his body heat was making you dizzy. He used the tip of his finger to lift your face and when your gazes connected, he let go. You still felt the sizzling pad of his finger on your chin.

“You know, I’ve learned a lot of things while on land,” his voice slithered up and down your spine like a wandering serpent. “You like when I’m shirtless. That’s why I continue to do it.”

You’d also learned that Chanyeol was straightforward like that. He didn't beat around the bush much and you wholeheartedly believed that he could not feel embarrassment. Or anger. He was his own filtered bubble.

“Your face never lies, [y/n],” he laughed like the tempter he was.

You glared at him. “Are you making fun of me right now?”

“Never.” He replied instantaneously as he tried to suppress his snicker. He utterly failed.

Hah. This was a very fine line he was dancing on. You didn't think. You crossed it.

“Yeah?” Your voice was getting huskier. You unhooked the buckles of your overalls and let the top of it fall like one big petal around your waist. “You mean if I take this off right now, you won't mind?”

You needed him to call you crazy. You’d never been forward with anyone before. Hell, you weren’t even sure if you were coming off as sexy or demented. There was a thin line between the two. But Chanyeol gulped, visibly. His Adam's apple bobbled with the action. And there was that unknown feeling again. You wanted to bite it. Actually, no. You wanted to bite all of him.

You had no idea where this day was leading but you thanked foresight for the fact that you hadn't been welding today. Not that you ever thought about doing anything secondary in your workshop. But you didn't want to accidentally burn your ass when you threw your inhibitions out of the window.

“If you take it off, I would try not to mind,” he sighed out. All of a sudden, his breath was fanning your forehead, like oxygen to a flame. “And I would fail, miserably.”

“You should mind then. You should mind a lot.”

And like that was your sign to go, one of his hands slipped around the back of your neck and cradled it. “You know I’ve been reading.” He applied enough pressure to bring your face closer to him until your lips were a breath away. “I think I like you a lot more than I know what to do with. You… you feel like home.”

“What?” You said into the silence.

“A star. You feel like the star at the center of my universe.”

“Like the sun?”

He did not answer. And even though your temperature was raging like an inferno, when his lips landed on yours it felt like a calm before the storm.

It took a millisecond to register before your body was pushing into him. Hot desire dancing alongside your veins like an essential need. He was breathing fire into your body. And you were burning spectacularly.

He groaned and you swore the sound alone woke up every nerve ending in your body like a spell. You demanded more. No, you needed it. So you took it. And he gave it to you. He accepted you like it was only natural. Your tongue dived in callously. His tongue was pliant, weak against yours. There was nothing reserved about the way you kissed him. All those lingering looks as the two of you worked side by side. That yearning ache that had dug a hole in your stomach. He’d felt it too. He kissed you back like a man that wanted to engrave his very being into your soul.

“I really like you,” he said as the two of you caught your breaths. Your bodies were so close. So close that when he jutted out his hips, his hardened cock flattened against you like an iron rod. “And I need to know if you like me too because I believe I’m going insane without knowing.”

Sucking in a long breath, you bring your lips back to him and kiss him again. Impossibly deeper now. You hooked an arm around his neck and pushed his body even closer. You did not care anymore. You had no say over your body. It was a monster that acted on its own accord. It ground against him like it was trying to weld the two of you together.

You didn't say this often but, fuck.

Maybe you were a fool. You wanted to ask him a load of things. What did he like about you? Wasn’t he scared? Where did he even come from? Wasn't this all moving too fast? What if he regrets meeting you later on? What was going on? But looking into his eyes it felt like there was only one thing you could say.

“I like you too. Gods, I like you.”

A slow grin lit across his face and it quieted your demons even more. You decided then and there you’d go anywhere it took to bring that smile on his face. Always. It did something to your chest that made it impossible for you to not smile at him like he was a star. The star. The baddest of them all: the sun.

“As I said: I’ve been reading,” his voice a low beat in your chest as his fingers gripped your waist and clenched. You needed out of these clothes. Now. “I want you.”

Then he was going to have you. Every single part of you.

It’s embarrassing fast how the two of you rushed back into the main house. Bursting through like a dam at full capacity with his hands roaming all over you as you kissed. You were floating and you were pretty sure your eyes were dilated to all hell. The inside of the house was a fast blur as you clasped his hand and led him up the stairs to your room.

It wasn't the first time he’d ever been inside but your room was small. Made for one. Chanyeol made your room look like a hermit’s hole. But that didn't matter. Because as soon as you kicked the door shut, your clothes were flying off your body in between kisses that struck your body bolts of lightning. And before you knew it, your back was slammed into the mattress.

Goosebumps pierced through your skin as his fingers came in touch with your naked skin. The sexual tension between the two of you was going to suffocate you but. You. Did. Not. Care. You were suddenly very thankful for your father’s ex-wife, Nau, and how she’d embarrassingly taught you about contraceptives. You’d been steadily taking a local one to help with your period pains. Thank fuck for that.

With a knee on the bed, Chanyeol’s fingers trailed a path from your thighs to your hips to rest like a featherlike band at your ribcage. Your heart wanted to jump out and devour him.

You reached up and undid the piece of string holding his loose pants to his waist with one hand. The other hand was too busy wandering around his chest. Fuck, you moaned louder than you thought possible when his forehead fell against yours. Chanyeol was burning up. Like you but exponentially.

His head shifted into the crook of your shoulder as you began to pump him softly and he groaned so deep that it ricocheted off the walls and it felt like the whole room shook. “Gods, I’m going to die.” His words were accentuated by one of his hands tentatively brushing against your breasts and like he couldn't help it, he splayed his whole fists against them and squeezed.

“If you die, I’ll bring you back,” you said darkly. “You’re not allowed to die.”

Chanyeol smirked slyly down at you. “An honor it would be if I died for you though.”

And then he lowered his head and sucked one of nipples and rolled the bud between his teeth. You didn't think. You couldn't. Your back arched off the bed like a bow ready to release and he didn't stop. He teased one of your breasts with his mouth as he worked the other with his nimble fingers and then he switched. You weren’t going to let him die for you for he was killing you already.

You wanted to cry when he released your bruised tip from his lips but that was nothing compared to the hand teasingly made its way to your clit and ghosted around almost as if to check if you were wet. You were dripping. It wouldn't shock you if you found out you soaked the bed.

Slowly, his hands retracted from your body and gripped the headboard of your bed so hard you saw the veins in his arms bulge and you swore you heard the wood splinter at his fingers just as he pushed into you. He thrust so deep into you that your eyes closed on impulse and you had to hold your breath.

Fuck, you were being split. He was big. Longer and girthier than you’d expected. Gods, you were going to die. His thrusts were slow. Painstakingly. You couldn't breathe. You couldn’t think. You were falling apart on his dick.

“Open your eyes, fatum,” he demanded and you complied without hesitation. “Look at me.”

You thought he was going to go slow for a bit longer as you caught your breath in pants but just as you were getting used to his pace; he hooked one hand across your hip and flexed. He pulled out, shattering fragments of your very soul with him before he slammed back into you with rougher, deeper, and more possessive strokes. He did not move any faster but his rhythm choked you. The force of him broke you down and demanded you submit. And you did, gladly. Without question. You needed him to breathe you like air. You wanted his lips around your whole body all at once. You needed him to not stop. You were on the verge of going cross-eyed with how hard he was fucking you.

His kisses were like savage beasts as he pushed into you. You clasped your legs around his waist and dug him deeper. You could hear yourself whimpering but that couldn't be you. Since when did you whimper?

“Fuck, fuck, Chanyeol.” You sounded like you were praying.

Chanyeol invaded you like an asteroid crashing and yet it felt like you were receiving a gift.

And then his fingers found your core once more and you saw stars dancing in the moonlight as you cried around him. Your whole body trembling from the impact. And like you undid something in him, his whole body tightened as he leaned forward and swallowed your cries with his lips, groaning as he released inside you.

He collapsed on top of you and for a moment you breathed in his intensity. In the silence, there was only the two of you with hearts pounding and mouths panting.

Your stomach caved in when he finally made a move to pull himself out of you. You couldn't even begin to explain the feeling that sparked and ignited in your chest. You’d always believed that sex was just sex. But this was different. Chanyeol pulled you deep into his chest and held you there like you were a piece of his heart.

You didn't realize teardrops had slipped past the corner of your eyes until Chanyeol turned your face to him frantically.

“Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?” He was so concerned it almost made you want to cry even harder.

“Nothing.” That was the problem.

Maybe you had finally crossed the bridge but somewhere you felt that this, whatever this was with Chanyeol wouldn't last. It felt like you were at the starting and breaking point of everything. You had no idea what you meant and you didn't want to tell him anything.

You wanted to be next to him until you couldn't be anymore. That was all you could do anyway.

“Nothing’s wrong,” You repeated.

“Yeah?” He laughed into your forehead as he leaned into your forehead and kissed it softly.

Yeah.

The three months Chanyeol spent with you felt like three years and then some.

It was almost funny how much time the two of you spent outside in the sun because he absolutely hated being inside. And even though your bed was the tiniest thing, somehow the two of you made it work because he no longer slept on the couch.

But then the end of his stay was rapidly approaching and you weren't exactly sure how to bring up the dilemma that had been poisoning your tongue for weeks. Was he going to just leave you? Did he need to go back home? Couldn't you leave with him? You wanted to leave this hole of a town anyway. Sure you would miss Kyungsoo and Nau but you would send them a carrier pigeon or something. If Chanyeol said the word, you would go anywhere.

However, he wasn't saying anything. In fact, it was as if he’d forgotten that he’d told you that he was only supposed to stay here till the end of summer.

As the two of you tested out your fifth set of redone and recalibrated wings at the large expanse behind your house, you decided to just let it out.

“The last day of summer is soon. Would your father still need you?” Now, why did you sound like a textbook? Gods, this was awkward. Why were you even bringing it up when he didn’t? What were you? A masochist?

Chanyeol stopped helping you fasten the body of the wings to your torso. You couldn't put a finger to the emotions flickering across his face. There were so many of them. For the first time, you saw that he was in turmoil.

“You can tell me anything,” You said, turning your body so you could place a hand on his shoulder. “You know that, right?”

He sucked in his lower lip for a moment before he expelled a long breath. And like he usually did, he fixed his eyes up at the sun. But the sun never seemed to hurt him the same way it did you. “I know it’s just…”

“Come on. I’m here in my wings and you still won’t tell me? What if I fly away from you forever?” You meant for it to be a joke. In fact, you’d already pictured the smile that would grace his beautiful face but you were met with restrained anger.

“Don’t say that,” he spat the words out.

Wait, what? Had you said something wrong? What? This was the first time you’d ever seen Chanyeol angry. You never even knew he had the range. But he looked like what you’d said set him off. He looked furious with his eyebrows drawn so close to the center of his face that it resembled one white block. And if you didn't know any better, you’d say it looked like he was angry… at himself.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” You squeezed his shoulder even tighter as if to remind him that you were there.

Chanyeol’s breathing came out hard but it wasn't from physical exertion. You had no idea what you were supposed to do. “You can’t joke about that. I…” words seemed to fail him because his shoulders slumped and he closed his eyes tightly. “What if I leave you? You know I’m not from around here. What if I leave to a place I can’t come back from? What if I’m never able to come down here again? What if — ”

He cut himself off abruptly and shrugged off your hand. Something ugly and vile twisted in your belly.

“We can go together?” You proposed even though it felt like your gut was being shredded. “If you can't come back here, I’ll just come with you. I can build stuff anywhere. It doesn't have to be here.”

Sorrow. That was the look that washed over Chanyeol’s face like a dark cloud. You couldn't understand what was going on but you were trying to. Where you not allowed where he was from? Maybe it was like a gendered village? That was okay, you could hide or something… You weren't exactly sure what you would do but you were smart. You’d find something. Anything.

“You can’t come.”

“Well, why not?”

“Because you would die, [y/n],” He didn’t, couldn't, look at you. “If you follow me back. You won’t be able to make it because you would die. You can’t die for me. I will not allow it.” His resolve was strong and cutting but he would not look at you.

Your words. He was throwing your words back at you but… “Where is your home, Chanyeol?” You asked the one question you should have asked the first day you met him. Gods, you were so stupid!

“You.”

Funny, a simple word was like a knife being stabbed into your heart. Emotions bubbled up to your lips, so many that you thought you were suffocating. Your heart was begging you to just stop. Ignorance was bliss. Whatever Chanyeol was, it was not peace.

“Where is your home?” You weren't screaming but it felt like your throat was parched and scrubbed raw.

And when he finally looked up from the ground, you thought for the last time that he was a prince. No, a King.

He did not speak but he lifted a hand that you had numerous memories of fitting yours into the sky and pointed to the glaring sun. And you did not understand but you immediately knew and you hated it. And at this very moment in time, you hated him. You wanted to push him and pull him closer to you at the same time.

You looked up at the sun and you had half the heart to spit at it.

“Please tell me I did not fall in love with a piece of the sun.” Your bottom lip quivered and you hated that too. “You’re human. You don’t belong to the gods. I know you, Chanyeol. You're not… you can’t be from there.”

You were holding in your tears like they were the end of the world. To you it was. You won't cry. You dared not to. This wasn't happening. Crying made it real. Crying meant your heart was breaking right unto the sandy floor under your feet in your very own backyard. On your turf.

From your gaze at the ground, you saw as Chanyeol’s bare feet scuffled away from you till he was a good seven feet away. What was up with this stupid distance?

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” There was no way he was crying but was that a hitch you heard in his voice? You raised your head to check and you almost laughed.

The two of you were way too alike for your own good.

There he was; standing prickly straight as he sucked in his breath so much that his chest brazenly prodded his loose shirt. And you couldn't hate him. Not when he was struggling through the same thing as you. He was the only one that understood and he was doing his best to not fall apart in front of you. And you didn’t even need to see them to know that he was holding back his emotions with an iron fist that was cracking.

“Don't apologize. You didn’t lie to me. You were honest. I just didn't understand. You said some very weird things but that was you. It didn't matter in the grand scheme of things. I thought it didn't.”

“But if I go Father…” he tore his gaze to the side but quickly brought it back to you. “I don’t know what he would do. Gods’ are a bit bitchy, you know?” He smiled half wry, half in irony.

You let out a sound in between a cry and a laugh. “That’s fine. We’ll work it out. We’ll — ”

You never got to complete your sentence. Like a novel that did not have an ending, you watched as, in the bright light of noon, Chanyeol was struck with a bolt of light so bright that you had to close your eyes for a second and throw your hands up blindly. The heat was scorching even from this distance. And when you opened your eyes as fast as you possibly could, you realized that the light was from him.

It was then that you understood everything.

Chanyeol was the sun. Not a part of it. Not a piece. It was his being. His core. His very sense of self.

But why did he look so terrified?

“What’s going on?” You screamed at him as he maniacally clawed at his skin like he was on fire. But the sun could not burn, could it?

“I do not know!” He looked at you and his terror became your own.

Something was wrong. Something was happening and you didn't know how to stop it. You wanted to hug him but when you made a move to him, he screamed raw bloody for you to not take a single step. You were in between a rock and a fiery place.

“You can’t come next to me, [y/n].” He was in pain. You felt in from the curl of your hair to the leather of your boots. “I can't control what’s going on. But I’m okay. I don’t know what’s wrong but I’ll be okay, yeah?”

Chanyeol was combusting. He was burning out right in front of you and he wanted you to stand still? Fuck that. Fuck everything. You loved him. You would do anything. You were going to hold him down to this world even if you had to give up your hands that you loved so much.

However, all of a sudden Chanyeol tilted his head and you swore you saw the moment he communicated with whoever was above because he looked furious for one second, and the very next he shot you a calming smile. Like you mattered. Like he was trying to placate you in all this.

You were running before you couldn't think about it.

And your hand was reaching out to him with every breath you had and just as your fingers clutched the fabric of his blazing shirt, you felt the warmth he released close around you. It cradled you through your pain. It felt safe. It felt like you were dying. It felt like forever.

Instantly, there was a loud boom, a bang and then the hottest rush of air that blew past you like a caress.

Your palm was burned. His love burned. You were wailing at the world. You hated everything. You loved him so much. Your palm was bleeding. GODS, EVERYTHING HURT. Make it stop, you were begging. Please. I’d do anything Please. The pain was making you scream like a bitch.

You didn’t know what to do. You wanted to die. You wanted to be reborn. But the world did not give second chances. You were going to pry it out with your scorned hand and strangle your chance out. You were going to beat your destiny with a stick. You vowed it. As you cried out in pain, you promised that you would break every rule. You won't wait. You’ll fly.

Kyungsoo was the one to find you.

Passed out, dehydrated and bruised in more ways than one. But you were a phoenix that was born out of the ashes.

You knew a part of you was gone as Chanyeol was taken from you. Your emotions were all over the place. One minute you were unfeeling and the very next an overwhelming sense of rage inflamed your body. You wanted to burn the very ground you walked on. You rummaged through your room until you found the tiny piece of him you had left. His white gold headband. You made Kyungsoo tie it ‘round your head and you never took it off.

It did not help that your palm took longer than three weeks to heal. It was an ugly scar. But it reminded you of him so, when you slept at night, you gritted through the pain and the memories and held the palm close to your chest. Right over your heart. It was fitting.

And by the time your palm had healed enough, it felt like you’d aged a thousand years. Kyungsoo could not understand what was going on and you refused to talk. If you told him, he would only discourage you. And you would truly lose your mind if someone told you what you could and could not do.

But your friend was right there. He never left. Even when you were mean, he still hoped that one day he won't need to drop food outside of your bedroom door because you would not come downstairs. How where you supposed to sit at that table and not see the ghost of Chanyeol falling over the chair as he laughed like a bear?

Maybe someday you would get better. Today was not that day.

For the first time in ages, you walked into your workshop and inhaled. It was time to work.

You built and rebuilt your wings from scratch. The wooden ones never got off the ground, not even for a second. The metal one almost sawed off your arm completely but you never gave up. You were restless and you couldn’t sleep. When you slept you saw him and your hand burning. You were plagued by it. It hurt, so you did not do it anymore. Sleep only came when you were exhauseted.

The hybrid wings weren’t beautiful. A mismatch of wood and alloy. But when you jumped off the roof of the tiny shed at the back of the house. You flew. Or maybe the right word is floated. You floated for a good thirty seconds before you landed painfully on bloody knees.

“Fuck,” you spat.

Your knees hurt but it took your mind away from the present. You had to come up with something fast, You had to do something before you ran out of gas, before you burned out.

Perhaps that is why from the dregs of your mind you remembered something your father had done when you were younger.

When you were nine, you stepped into your father’s workshop for the first time. It was hot as if the middle of the earth was right there in the basement. And when you walked in, after banal arguments about safety with your father, he let you watch him as he created the greatest thing known to man.

Your father had been creating wings.

He’d never completed it and you’d been so young that it didn’t matter to you that he never did. But now as you rush back down the steps into your basement, you wonder if maybe this is fate. Maybe fate wasn't something spontaneous but rather a series of unfortunate events that we only hoped ended in less pain.

You pushed open the back door within the basement that led to your father’s workshop. You hadn't set foot in here since he’d died. It smelled like him. You wondered if he was watching you right now. You wondered if he thought you were a bit too stupid.

It took a while to find it beneath the layers of dust and junk but when you found it, you sighed in relief. It wasn't made from metal or wood or even a combination from the two. But wax. The frame of the left-wing was nonexistent while the right-wing looked like it had melted. None of that registered and that was how it became your new project.

“You need to eat,” Kyungsoo said as he brought a plate of sandwiches out to you.

Days had passed since you’d started working on the wings and for the first time in a long time, you felt hopeful. Not happy but somewhere in between. You’d poured blood and sweat into molding the wax into the right frame and meticulously preserving the feathers.

You picked one of the sandwiches and bit into it. These days you hated working inside. “Thank you.”

“You'd tell me if you were doing something risky, right?” Kyungsoo eyed the wax suspiciously.

Shrugging, you stuffed the rest of the bread in your mouth. You couldn't give him the answer he wanted so you pretended not to hear. You knew he was angry and you knew it wasn't fair. But you were angrier. Kyungsoo didn't understand. You were going to fly. You had to. You fucking had to get up there.

It took longer than you wanted but when you were done, your wings were perfect.

They looked perfect and you just knew that it wasn't going to let you down. It wasn't going to break. Wax wasn't like wood after all. You were drunk on the feeling of sunshine. It felt like for the first time in months you could breathe. You did not wait for another day.

It was already the middle of Fall. The sun was out but it wouldn't be there for much longer. Sunset was fast approaching.

You climbed up the roof of the shed with the new set of wings attached tightly to your back. You wondered if Chanyeol was looking down at you right now. You wondered if he could see. You hoped he did. You stood on the ledge of the roof and let the wind build and rest before you took a breath.

You prayed and then you jumped.

And like in your dreams, you flew. And it was glorious. It was like the wings were your very arms. Your body — your invention — defied physics, defied the very aspects of anatomy. But you were flying through cloud nine at breakneck speed. You were gliding and nimbly twisting through a bright orange sky. It was so beautiful. You had tears in your eyes.

The wind whipped your face painfully as you pushed your wings up and up and then some more. You couldn't hear anything and to be quite honest, you could not see anything either.

You followed the blinding light in front of you like an addict. You wondered if the townsfolk down below could see you. You didn't care.

You kept flying, even when you got tired. Even when your arms begged you to stop because any more and they would break, you pushed. You pushed yourself until you entered a wave of encompassing heat that instantly reminded of you that day. You were so close. Your heart felt like a match in your chest and as the temperature rose, it struck and lit.

In your drunkenness, you swore you saw Chanyeol. He was right there and you were going to reach him. Tears were falling out of your eyes without pause. You’d been reborn not as a phoenix but as a river.

And just as your body felt the pressures of being burnt alive you suddenly felt nothing. Like you were nothing but a speck in the universe. You were nothing and everything at the same time. You were not sure how long you spent in the state but the next thing you knew, you were falling.

No, plummeting. You were being thrown back to earth in a ball of fire.

You were screaming. Your wings were on fire and… the wax was melting. You’d come so close and you still couldn't make it. Your dream was sifting through your empty hands. You couldn't believe it. You were falling so fast that soon enough all you saw around you was crisped air and shattered reality.

Your body was burned. Physically and mentally. Your soul was leaving your body and you knew that you won't survive this. Who could? You were going to die screaming.

It must have been a second before your body engraved itself into the dirt when you felt hot hands cradle your battered body. You were weak and you were tired but he was like a siren. He called and you answered. You fought and he appeared.

It must have been fate that you had been the first one he’d met. He was your bright and warm star.

“You idiot,” he cried as boiling tears landed like rain on your dried, desert-like face. “I was coming to you. I was coming. I was coming. I was coming.” He held you into his chest, injuries and all be damned, as he cried.

If you could smile you would but it hurt just to wheeze. “Because you love me?”

“More than anything. More than anyone.”

And you loved him back. Love was not guaranteed at all, you knew that, but he was the reflection of your soul. He had a part of you wrapped around his heart like a vice. You won't let go. You tied him ephemerally to this world and he connected you to the largest star of them all. You could feel his soul like it was a breathing thing.

“Then I go wherever you go.”

He pulled you away from his body and through your slitted eyes, you saw the most beautiful man. The man who wore the sun like a coat. The man who reminded you of gods and how weak mortals were next to them. You’d flown into the flames and he was here.

“No, I need you to understand.” Chanyeol’s lips were moving in a way that told you he was serious. But it dawned on you then that in his arms, the burns did not hurt. It was like licks on your skin. “You are the greatest star of my universe. You are all of it.”

You understood. “And I would fall again and again. It’s all or nothing with you, Chanyeol. Do you understand?”

Maybe he did because he hooked his face into your shoulder and let out a laugh. It was rusty. He hadn't laughed in ages but it felt right. His soul had fallen down to earth first, and he had come right after. He had been searching for you for a long time, for such a long time that he had forgotten. To him, you were like the vast space beyond the sun.

You’d flown to him, even if it killed you. Nothing else mattered after that.

“You. I came down for you. I was sent to you. I am sorry, so sorry, that it took me so long to reach back down.”

At first, you did not know what the hell he was talking about. Several minutes passed before you did. And that was when you grinned as tears poured from your eyes.

He finally knew.

a/n: ahh if you made it down here, thank you. im so happy you read this and i hope you enjoyed it, and yes i cried while i wrote this. i have been wanting to do this since i listened to Zayn’s 2018 Icarus Falls album. and i hope i actually did my imagination justice. pls dont hesitate to tell me what you think! :)

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