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lifeofkaze · 4 years ago

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Carolyn Acelia Nyberg

Carolyn is what you’d expect a daughter of the better Wizarding families to be - elegant, poised, well-mannered, perfect, in any sense or form. But beneath her beautiful exterior, there’s a sharp and ambitious wit waiting to break through. After an accident caused her eldest sister to be disfigured for life, it was Carolyn who her parents decided should bring a profitable husband into the family. Her betrothal at a very young age, the guilt over having caused her sister’s disfiguration, and the struggle between her ideals and her own vanity were only the first cracks in Carolyn’s perfectly smooth shell, but certainly wouldn’t be the last.

Name: Carolyn Acelia Nyberg

Nicknames: Dear friends will call her Caro. Her older siblings called her Lynnie until she learned how to brew potions that make you vomit up your breakfast.

Birthday: 17th November 1880

Nationality: English by her mother’s side, Swedish by her father’s

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Residence:

Nyberg Manor, Saddleworth Moor, Yorkshire

Nyberg Summer Residence in Gotland, Sweden several times per year

various places in Amsterdam, Paris, and New York while travelling with Brady

Pendle Hall, Pendle Forest, Lancashire

Face Claim: Natalie Dormer

PERSONAL:

Appearance:

Measures: 168 cm, 50 kg as an adult

Build: delicate, petite

Hair: light blonde locks that turn almost platinum in the sunlight, almost always meticulously styled and placed

Eyes: light blue

Skin: very pale, takes care not to tan or, God forbid, burn in the sun

Style: very fashionable, up to date with the latest trends, rich jewellery and fabrics, putting fashion over comfort

Misc: none

Character:

Positive Traits: charming if she wants to, ambitious, wickedly clever, focused, loyal, curious

Negative Traits: judgmental, entitled, vain, proud, sharp-tongued

Favourite Food: Swedish cinnamon buns

Favourite Drink: Port wine, Swedish vodka

Hobbies: fashion, advancing her knowledge in potioneering, reading, leisurely walks with people who have something worthwhile to say, gossipping

Boggart: Her eldest sister Alyssa, whose face is melting off her skull

Patronus: Heron

Amortentia:

What she smells like: lily of the valley, roses, black pepper, powder

What she smells: oil colours, cinnamon, copper

HOGWARTS:

House: Slytherin

Extracurriculars: potions club, book club, student feast committee

Best Class: Potions

Worst Class: Herbology

Third Year Electives: Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, Muggle Studies but was disappointed by the lack of fashion talk

CAREER:

1892 - 1899: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry

1899 - 1901: Apprentice potioneer to at Pendleton’s Potions & Apothecary

1901 - 1904: Potioneer, brewing potions and poisons for the Ministry of Magic on commission

1904 - 1905: Researching, improving and marketing her Beautification Potion

1905 - 1926: Owner of Pendleton’s Potions & Apothecary

1926 - 1994: Senior partner of Pendleton’s Potions & Apothecary, head of Potioneering and Development

1994 - 2000: Retirement, occasional advisor to Mina Pendleton in business matters

RELATIONSHIPS:

Family:

(Faceclaims: MyAnna Buring, Ulf Friberg, Diana Rigg)

Margery & Gustav Nyberg: As the youngest son of the Swedish Nyberg family, Gustav Nyberg was sent to Great Britain to find a suitable wife and business partner for the flourishing family business, both of which he found in his wife, Margery. For an upper-class 19th-century family, Gustav and Margery were warm parents but never let their children forget what was expected of them and made sure they were prepared for their designated roles accordingly.

Ingrid Nyberg: Much like herself, Carolyn’s grandmother Ingrid Nyberg possesses a sharp mind and an even sharper tongue. As the matriarch of the Nyberg family, she refuses to be restricted by conventions and societal rules unless she chooses to. She lives in the Nyberg Residence in Gotland, Sweden, and is the only person Carolyn feels comfortable sharing her troubles and frustrations with.

Faceclaims (Amanda Seyfried, Henrik Norlén, Blake Lively)

Alyssa Nyberg: Intelligent, charming and beautiful beyond compare, Alyssa was considered the golden child of the family. Her parents were confident to find the perfect match for their eldest daughter when an accident caused by Carolyn irrevocably scarred Alyssa’s face for life. A lot of guilt and resentment from both sides marred their relationship and spurred Carolyn’s ambition to create a new, more potent beautification potion.

Irina and Erik Nyberg: Carolyn’s older twin siblings always kept more to themselves rather than their sisters. With Erik being the only son in the family and the designated heir, and both Alyssa and Carolyn more clever and - according to Irina - prettier than her, Irina often felt like the underdog of the family and grew spiteful about it. It was she who incited Carolyn to play the prank on Alyssa that resulted in her injury, but neither of them meant for the explosion to happen as it did.

Romantic History: Bradford ‘Brady’ Elijah Pendleton IV

The betrothal of young Carolyn to the only heir of the Pendleton dynasty caused massive waves in the Wizarding high society. Without knowing what Bradford Pendleton IV even looked like, Carolyn resented the boy who was supposed to steal away her future. This feeling deepened upon learning that both of them had been sorted into Slytherin House once they were old enough to attend Hogwarts. Despite their reluctance, they agreed on a ceasefire, which eventually resulted in a deep friendship. Once it dawned on them that there was more way to defy their parents’ plan than actively sabotaging them, they could finally admit to the romantic feelings that had grown between them. (Bradford belongs to the lovely @kc-and-co)

Friends:

Adelia Selwyn: @thatravenpuffwitch Sharing their love for potions, witty conversations and fashion, the two girls from prominent families of the Wizarding community hit it off almost straight away. They retained both their personal and professional friendships long into their adulthood.

Marigold Sterling: @that-scouse-wizard Carolyn thought Marigold was a little loud for her taste, but her enthusiasm for fashion and unrivalled eye for original designs quickly won her over. Together with Adelia Selwyn, Carolyn and Marigold take great pleasure in discussing their peers’ dress choices and intervene if necessary.

Ophelia Burke: @the-al-chemist Ophelia tagged onto Marigold, Adelia and Carolyn from very early on. Albeit accepted by them, Carolyn never came close to seeing Ophelia as a friend or even equal. Her tolerance towards her dwindled when Ophelia made a move on Bradford, but she realised when she had taken it too far. She would never admit it, but there’s a certain protectiveness in Carolyn when Ophelia shows interest in the wrong kinds of people.

Rivals:

Siobhan Llewelyn: @kc-and-co Siobhan and Carolyn couldn’t be more different if they tried, and Shiv is not afraid to say so out loud. After years of harbouring a more or less friendly rivalry, they formed a connection over sharing a research space with their respective scientific projects. Siobhan is the only person who can put Carolyn’s head straight without having to fear retaliation, despite - or maybe, because - them never being best friends in the first place.

Ethel Hexley: @the-al-chemist Carolyn thinks Ethel loud, unmannered, and unbelievably grating. That put aside, she has a profound respect for Ethel’s ability to both voice and back her opinions. When Ethel rose in the ranks of the Wizengamot, there was a certain satisfaction in Carolyn upon seeing a woman on the job. If she could now tone down her voice a little, that would be splendid, thank you very much.

Pets:

Carolyn neither owns nor likes pets of her own

Her husband Brady owns an owl and a post pigeon for affairs in the States.

She also is the not-as-proud co-owner of Brady’s rescue turtle

She was less than pleased when Brady learned what googly eyes were and turned her hat collection into feathery ‘pets’

#hphl #hogwarts legacy #carolyn nyberg #bradlyn

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lupinlongbottom · 5 years ago

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Burning Bridges pt. 2

Neville Longbottom x Reader

Summary: First day of school! First day of fighting! Wait what? Neville convinces (Y/N) to chat with him, explain what had been going on for the last five years. It’s not much, but it’s a start.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: some swearing, angst if you squint idk

A/N: i’m not good at angst. i’m also not good at plot? dunno. trying hard, my dudes. i have like, 6 plot points i want to hit but this chapter hits none of them. filler? idk. angst? who’s to say? enjoy!

Part 1 ... Part 3 ... Part 4 ... Part 5 ... Part 6 ... Part 7

It had taken nearly all day to get her classroom in order. McGonagall wasn’t joking, the previous Potions Master, Atticus Barclay, was a bit of a hoarder and a terribly messy one at that. To (Y/N)’s knowledge, Slughorn had retired only a year after the Battle of Hogwarts, leaving a rather necessary spot to be filled quickly. Not exactly the wisest choice, she noted. (Y/N) finished dusting the final shelf, turning the label on the fluxweed jar outward.

“Atticus you swine,” (Y/N) groaned, stretching her back. “Honestly, any worthwhile Potions Master would’ve taken much better care of their workspace…”

She took a step back, admiring her handiwork. No more did the dungeon feel like it had in her school years. (Y/N) had opened the curtains, allowing the little bit of sunlight to filter in. A few waves of her wand allowed ivy to grow, following the curvature of the ceiling, dangling ever so slightly. Felt homey. Inviting. A barn owl rested on (Y/N)’s shoulder, nuzzling her face slightly.

“Hello, Edgar,” She smiled, petting him gently. “You like the place? Seems more my style, no?”

The barn owl sputtered a response, flying over to the window.

“I know you want to go fly, but I haven’t got any letters to send,” (Y/N) sighed. “As usual. You can make laps around the castle, right?”

Edgar’s black eyes bore into (Y/N)’s, almost as if he was cross. No, (Y/N) decided. Her owl, best friend, was cross.

“If you want me to send a letter so bad, I could convince myself to send mum one. I know how much you love flying through Bristol to get to her,” Edgar stood silent. “Right. I’ll think about it,” (Y/N) turned to her owl. “Maybe I should cast a warming charm in the winter…”

“(Y/N)!” Neville smiled, practically running into the Potions classroom. He sat down next to (Y/N). “Got here early, as usual it seems.”

(Y/N) grinned widely at her friend. “Never late, to Potions at least. I want to pass my O.W.L’s somehow.”

“If anyone had to worry about not passing their Potions O.W.L, it wouldn’t be you,” Neville laughed.

“You flatter me, Longbottom,” said (Y/N), watching a wisp of her breath escape her lips. “You’d think Snape would put a warming charm on this room when snow’s on the ground, right?” She rubbed her arm slowly, trying to warm up.

“You’re cold?” Neville’s eyes widened. “You should’ve worn your cardigan! I tell you that every time we have class.”

“You know I like the look of vests much better,” (Y/N) teased, moving her hand to her nose, pinching it lightly. “Besides, someone jinxed my jumpers. Shrink every time I touch them.”

“Again?” Neville brought his voice to a whisper. “You’ve got to stop letting them bully you like that…”

“You’re one to talk!” (Y/N) quipped, giggling slightly. “I tried enchanting my chest to keep them out, but maybe I need to try something different.”

“In any case,” Neville stood up, walking behind (Y/N). “You should at least be warm in your favorite class.” Suddenly, (Y/N) felt a slight weight on her shoulders. Intrigued, she glanced down to see a familiar gray cardigan. Gryffindor cardigan. Neville sat back down, sans jumper, his cheeks dusted pink. From the cold, of course.

“Snape’s going to dock at least 10 points from Gryffindor when he sees you not wearing the proper uniform,” (Y/N) said, fighting back the biggest smile from her face.

“It’ll be like any other class, then,” Neville shrugged, moving to fix the jumper now atop of (Y/N)’s shoulders, wearing it like a cape. “Y-you can keep it, if you want.”

“What? No, I can’t keep it! It’s—”

“Keep it until you can un-jinx your jumpers. It’s bloody freezing.”

“On second thought… the cold builds character.”

It had only taken three outfit changes for (Y/N) to finally settle on a pair of matching robes and a hat, mauve in color. They were once her mother’s, passed down in hopes (Y/N) would make better use of it at Hogwarts.

“I guess she’s right,” (Y/N) hummed, readjusting her hat. “Don’t you think I look just ghastly in hats?” Her head turned to the barn owl, sitting on his perch adjacent to the full length mirror. The owl cooed. “Exactly right. I do look like my grandmother. Always the observatory owl, Edgar,” (Y/N) glanced at the clock. “Shit! I’m going to be late!”

Flying out the door, (Y/N) hardly had the moment to recognize the figure exiting his door as well. The two collided, knocking both parties to the ground.

“I’m so sorry!” (Y/N) blurted, grabbing the wall to steady herself upward. “Are you alright?”

“Been better,” Neville groaned, rubbing his forehead.

“Oh, Professor Longbottom,” (Y/N) readjusted her robe, reluctantly offering her hand.

“Thanks,” Neville forced a smile, his lips drawing a fine line. He took her hand, fingers lingering for a moment too long. He pulled away at the realization. “Running late?”

“Old habits,” she shrugged. “I see you’re not exactly punctual tonight either.”

“Gran sent me an owl, had to reply before I forgot,” said Neville, smiling at the thought. “Wished me luck on my first day.”

“That’s sweet of her, how is she—” (Y/N) stopped herself, coughing lightly. “Well, by any means it’s not wise for the two newest professors to be late on the first night.”

“Of course not, that’d be barbaric. I doubt McGonagall would let us hear the end of it,” He laughed, expecting a response. Nothing. “Is that your hat?” Neville pointed to the mauve pile to the left of her.

(Y/N) glanced downward. “So it is,” She gently leaned down to retrieve it, placing it again on her head. “Is it on straight?”

“Isn’t it a circle? How could it be on straight? Is there a wrong way to wear a witch hat?”

“I’ll go check my mirror then—”

“You look spectacular,” Neville grabbed (Y/N)’s hand, stopping the witch from re-entering her room. “We’re running late as it is, come on.”

The run to the Great Hall wasn’t the most graceful, but years of practice and memorization of the hallways of Hogwarts allowed the two to arrive just before the rest of the students. McGonagall eyed the two of them down, almost disapprovingly.

“I see you two made it,” she said, slightly sour. Her eyes glanced down between the two wizards, noticing their hands were still intertwined from the run. “I do suggest, however, that you keep any and all personal relationships between the two of you absent from the students,” (Y/N) realized what she had meant, immediately pulling her hand away, almost angry at the lack of warmth.

“Oh, we’re not—”

“Students tend to gossip,” Minerva smiled, glancing down at (Y/N). “I would assume you of all people would know that much, Professor (L/N).”

“Yes, Headmistress.” (Y/N) responded meekly, dipping her head down, eyes disappearing from the brim of her hat, hopefully covering the growing pink in her cheeks.

Neville laughed. “Sorry for that,” his hand moved to fix his rather perfectly gelled hair, a strand had flown loose. “I had to stop you from going back into your room somehow.”

“You didn’t have to grab my hand, I know my way around the castle,” (Y/N) huffed, marching up to the faculty table that sat in the front of the hall.

“You didn’t let go, though,” Neville smiled slightly, if only to himself.

(Y/N) found one of two empty seats, thankfully not next to one another. The wizard that was sitting in the seat next to hers was unfamiliar to (Y/N). His dark brown hair was tied together with a gold ribbon, the hair touching nearly the bottom of his robe hood. He looked young, maybe a few years older than (Y/N), slight wrinkles dancing the corners of his violet eyes.

“Is this seat taken?” (Y/N) asked, smiling gently. The wizard shook his head.

“Of course not,” He hummed, gesturing for (Y/N) to sit down. “I must say, I can already tell you’re going to be better company than Barclay.”

“This was his seat?” (Y/N) asked again, finally settling into her seat. The students had started filing into the hall, sitting at their respective house tables.

“He smelled of murtlap bile and cigars half the time,” He hummed, looking at (Y/N). “I enjoy your perfume much better,” the wizard sniffed deeply. “Mint. Slightly musty.”

“It’s not perfume,” (Y/N) flamed. “I hardly wear any. It must be my toothpaste, or potions ingredients.”

“Alright Minty,” the wizard laughed, enjoying his new nickname for (Y/N). “I assume you have a name?”

“(Y/N) (L/N), Potions Master,” She nodded. “You are…?”

“Lancelot Knight, Muggle Studies,” He shook (Y/N)’s hand. Firm, almost constricting.

“Lancelot…Knight?” (Y/N) fought back a laugh.

“Most people call me Lance, I actually prefer it,” He laughed. “My parents, bless their hearts, really had it out for me I reckon.”

“Strong name,” (Y/N) hummed. “Nice to meet you, Professor Knight.”

The first years had finally filed in, ready to be sorted by the ever elusive hat. (Y/N) had to fight back the tears each time a student was claimed to her house, like a proud mother. She had never met these kids, but was sorely excited to do such, to teach them. As the dinner went on, (Y/N) tried to memorize every moment she could, raking in her first night as a professor.

Neville had been staring at (Y/N) for quite some time. He really didn’t intend to. Why had she been trying to ignore him? All he wanted was his friend back. They were practically best mates years ago, what happened? Surely their fight couldn’t have left scars that deep on (Y/N), right? He swallowed hard, crossing the now empty hall over to the mauve-clad witch.

“(Y/N) I really think we should talk,” He started, smoothing his robes. Neville caught the eye of the wizard sitting next to her, he looked like he hadn’t taken a proper bath in weeks. “Please. Hear me out.”

“Professor Longbottom,” (Y/N) sighed. “I really don’t see—”

“Please. Just one conversation and then you can go back to ignoring me,” Neville pleaded. “I need closure. We need closure.”

“Closure?” (Y/N) stood up. “Closure to what? If the last five years were any indication to what sort of relationship we could possibly have—”

“We don’t need to be friends,” Neville felt particularly bold, cutting (Y/N) for the second time. “We don’t need to go back to where we were before, but I want to at least… I don’t know. Clear the air.”

Lance laughed. “Wow. The tension in this room is… pliable. Could run a knife through it,” He stood up. “I dunno, Minty. I reckon you should give plant-boy a chance, at least a walk in the moonlight.”

She groaned lightly, feeling both sets of eyes digging deep into her. “One lap."

Neville’s ears perked up, grinning lightly. “One lap?"

“Around the grounds. Clear as much air as you need,” She stood up, pushing her chair back hard. “You can meet me in the courtyard, I don’t think I could stand another minute in this hat.”

“Right,” Neville fought back his growing grin. “See you in a few.” He darted out, practically running to the teacher’s wing.

Lance laughed again. “Ex-boyfriends can be a pain, can’t they? Been there, done that,” He flattened his kerchief. “Though, ex-girlfriends are much messier. ‘Bout fifty-fifty, really.”

“He’s not my ex-boyfriend,” (Y/N) stated matter-of-factly.

“Right,” He smirked. “Whatever the case, I hope you enjoy your walk, Minty.”

(Y/N) took her time returning to her chambers. Neville could wait a moment, he could wait a thousand moments. She knew he would. Was it unfair of her? Perhaps. She tried not to dwell on it, as she really needed to change into something less constricting.

Filtering through her dresser, (Y/N) had found the black trousers she had been searching for, but was distraught on a top. “It’s a windy night, better wear something warm…” she mumbled, opening her jumper drawer. She owned too many sweaters for one person, as they were her favorite thing to wear. The scratching wool felt comforting, warm. “I know I have that blue one in here somewhere…” Flinging through her collection, her hands stopped, reaching a gray one, the trim gold and maroon. (Y/N) allowed her fingers to trace the messy stitching underneath the tag.

N . L

“Stupid,” (Y/N) mumbled, throwing the cardigan to the side, revealing the blue jumper she had been searching for. “Edgar, what do you think?”

The owl clicked his beak twice, floating down to the discarded cardigan.

“Eddie…” (Y/N) strained. “No, I’m not going to return it! Not now, anyway. It’s been seven years,” Edgar stared at his owner, fluffing the jumper with his talons. “Well don’t ruin it...” (Y/N) whispered, clawing it out of the owl’s grip. She folded it gently, placing it on her nearly empty counter, next to an old Honeydukes box. An old gift. (Y/N) hesitated for a moment, almost begging herself to pry it open.

“I shouldn’t keep him waiting any longer,” she decided, pulling the blue wool over her head. “Like a plaster, rip it off quickly.”

The moon was almost full, only a sliver missing from the round figure, allowing the entire courtyard to shimmer in its light. The fountain still babbled as always, water tricking down to the pool below. Neville focused on his reflection as well has he could, his hair still neatly gelled back. Well, as neat as it could be.

“She’s taking a long time…” Neville hummed, twirling a finger in his reflection, distorting the water. “Is she trying to pull a prank on me?Never going to show up? No,” Neville clicked, shaking his head. “Shut up, Longbottom. She’s your friend—was your friend.”

“Sorry I’m late,” said (Y/N), finally entering the courtyard. “Couldn’t decide on a jumper.”

“Miss wearing uniforms?”

“All the time,” (Y/N) groaned. “Never have to worry about what to wear, always put on the same thing.”

Neville smiled, standing up to meet (Y/N) in the middle, hands again in his pockets. “You look nice, as usual.”

“Trying to butter me up?” (Y/N) smirked, teasing the Gryffindor slightly.

“Compliments never hurt,” he shrugged. “Thank you, for agreeing to this (Y/N).”

“I only did it because Professor Knight was listening to our whole conversation, it would’ve looked poor on my part if I didn’t”

“So that bloke’s name is Knight?”

“Lancelot Knight, if you can imagine.”

“His parents must’ve really had it out for him.”

“Must’ve.”

Silence.

“Well? We should get walking,” (Y/N) began to leave the courtyard, headed towards the open fields surrounding the castle.

Neville followed suit, allowing (Y/N) to stride at least five steps ahead. Her hair was pulled into her signature low ponytail, wrapped neatly with a bow. Neville could count on one had the amount of times he had seen her without her bow, her hair down. One of them being at the Battle of Hogwarts. It was in a pink ribbon, just like the one she was wearing now. Somehow it fell out in all of the commotion.

“Do you ever get tired of your bows?” Neville asked, almost absentmindedly.

“We’re not here to discuss my hair choices, Professor Longbottom,” said (Y/N), not turning around. “If we were, we’d start with your horrendous use of gel.”

“Horrendous?” Neville choked. “My Gran loves it when I gel my hair back!”

“Your Gran needs better spectacles,” (Y/N) slowed her pace, allowing Neville to get closer to her. “You used too much of it.”

“I’ll tone it down,” said Neville, fingers now trying to mess up his hair. “(Y/N), I’ve missed you,” she didn’t respond. “I know that you probably think that I’m the dumbest bloke to walk these grounds after the way we left off, but I just wanted you to hear that.”

“I wish I could say the same.”

“I know you’re lying, (Y/N).”

“You don’t know anything, Longbottom,” (Y/N) quipped, allowing herself to turn around just once. “You don’t know how badly I needed a friend that day, how badly I needed someone to care about me.”

“I see we’ve dropped the formalities,” said Neville, noting her lack of their shared title. “(Y/N), I didn’t know what you needed. You can be really good at avoiding conversations… or people.”

“You…” (Y/N) fought back the tears, trying hard to give herself the restraint she had years ago. “You never asked!"

“How was I supposed to know?” His voice rising.

“How were you supposed to know, what? That my dad escaped from Azkaban? That-that he joined the Dark Lord again? A man I had never met in my life?” She felt the hot tears stream down her cheeks. “You knew all of that!”

“I didn’t know he was there! The battle was a bit hectic, loads of people were dying, (Y/N).”

“Including him! My own father!” (Y/N) seethed, her eyes forcing themselves to meet with Neville’s. “My own father died and I never got to meet him, never got to say hello, let alone goodbye.”

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N). I didn’t know at the time, I was—”

“Preoccupied with Lovegood. I know.”

“That’s a bit uncalled for,” He quipped. (Y/N) sat with her knees tucked under her chin. Neville’s tone softened. “You’re hurting right now. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, then, I mean,” He sat down next to her. “But I’m here now.”

“That man,” (Y/N) continued, as if Neville wasn’t staring her down. “He was the reason I tried so hard to be good. To be everything he wasn’t. Kind, caring, loving,” she wiped a stray tear. “Why did it hurt so bad when he died?”

“I don’t know,” Neville admitted. That was a question only (Y/N) could answer. He felt like she knew that. “I found out when reading about the dead. Your dad’s name stuck out. I sent an owl—”

“I know.”

“What? I thought you said—”

“I lied,” (Y/N) chuckled airily. “I got them. All of them.”

“But why would you lie?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged, hugging her knees harder. “I never opened them.”

“Why?”

“I dunno,” another shrug. “I was being dumb. I wanted so badly to cut you out of my life for good. To forget that I ever—” she stopped.

“I know I wasn’t the best of friend in that moment,” he rested a hand on her shoulder. “I’m damn well trying now. I know we can’t get back to where we were before, but I want to at the very least give it a go,” he sat down, gingerly, as to not disturb (Y/N). He pushed his arm to the other shoulder, resting his head atop hers.

“Thank you,” (Y/N) whispered, leaning into his touch, enjoying the embrace.

“Do you think you could start calling me Neville again? As a step in the right direction?” (Y/N) nodded wordlessly. “Good. I’ve missed it.”

“My father dying…” (Y/N) loosed her grip on her knees, opening up slightly. “Isn’t the only reason we fought.”

“No. I guess not,” Neville knew exactly what she was talking about. He couldn’t find the words to express that day, that argument in full. “ We can pretend it is for now. We should talk about it. Another day,” he smiled lightly.

“Another day,” she repeated. “Neville.”

General Tag List: @maralisa124 , @leighxlover , @hey-its-me-rai , @missihart23 , @biatheintrovert , @luna-xxxxx , @chocolaterumble, @why-am-i-sad-and-sleepy , @steve-thotgers

want to be added to a tag list? hmu in the replies or ask box with what characters you’d like to be tagged with!

#neville longbottom #neville longbottom x reader #harry potter x reader #neville longbottom imagine #harry potter #plant boy #neville longbottom x you #it's not great but had to get this shit out of the way fam #oh boy do i have thoughts for these two #burning? slowly you betcha

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xofaddiction · 4 years ago

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𝖜𝖍𝖔𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗 𝖆𝖕𝖕𝖊𝖆𝖑𝖘 𝖙𝖔 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖑𝖆𝖜 𝖆𝖌𝖆𝖎𝖓𝖘𝖙 𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖋𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖔𝖜 𝖒𝖆𝖓 𝖎𝖘 𝖊𝖎𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖆 𝖋𝖔𝖔𝖑 𝖔𝖗 𝖆 𝖈𝖔𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖉. 𝖜𝖍𝖔𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗 𝖈𝖆𝖓𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖙𝖆𝖐𝖊 𝖈𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖍𝖎𝖒𝖘𝖊𝖑𝖋 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖑𝖆𝖜 𝖎𝖘 𝖇𝖔𝖙𝖍. 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖆 𝖜𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖉 𝖒𝖆𝖓 𝖘𝖍𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖘𝖆𝖞 𝖙𝖔 𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖆𝖘𝖘𝖆𝖎𝖑𝖆𝖓𝖙: "𝖎𝖋 𝖎 𝖑𝖎𝖛𝖊 𝖎 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖐𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖞𝖔𝖚, 𝖎𝖋 𝖎 𝖉𝖎𝖊 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖌𝖎𝖛𝖊𝖓." 𝖘𝖚𝖈𝖍 𝖎𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖗𝖚𝖑𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖍𝖔𝖓𝖔𝖗.

full name: cyrus rousseau nicknames: cy, lieutenant, ruoss, etc. age: 36 date of birth: jun. 11 zodiac: gemini gender: male pronouns: he/him sexuality: bisexual

physical

hair color: dark brown eye color: hazel height: 6′1″ weight: 180 lbs

personality

morality: lawful evil positive traits: charming, inquisitive, intelligent, attentive, strong-willed negative traits: restless, easily bored, moody, fickle, short-tempered, job: manager of rousseau’s skills: adaptable, strong, combat trained, artillery trained.

family

parents: valentina and louis rousseau. siblings: blake and audrey rousseau. niece: aria rousseau.

backstory and details - ＴＲＩＧＧＥＲＷＡＲＮＩＮＧ : war, murder, violence

✴ ✴ ✴ ✴ ✴ ✴ ✴ ✴ ✴

first born to louis rousseau and his young, model wife valentina, cyrus was another strapping heir to a line indebted to the o’sheas, albeit far behind others. a strong boy with a sturdy will and an even stronger mind, cyrus was a beloved child, doted on by his mother for his looks and encouraged by his father to be the best he could be in every aspect of his life as the second man in the rousseau family.

an o’shea general, their father wasn’t shy about bringing his children along when it was time to set the wrong things right. cyrus could recall on many occasions where his father returned to their car, knuckles bloody, stoic and firm with a word of advice and warning on what to look for in weaker men as he grew older.

always taught that nothing could hurt him unless he gave it license to, cyrus was rambunctious and foolhardy, always flooded with a charm and wit. paired with his keen instinct for sparring and ways of outsmarting those his senior, he had a knack for mischief from the start.

fear is a fickle thing in the eyes of a walsh general’s son; ever changing, always political and fluctuating in immediacy and relevancy. still, there was one fear that remained constant; losing those he loved.

more often than not it was a distant, almost irrelevant fear; one that had no place among conscious thought. at least until he gained two younger siblings, well into his life. after they came, he felt a need to step up and be there for them in a different way than parents ever could. he wanted to be the trusted confidant, the one they came to for help before they went to their parents; the reliable brother that loved them fiercely and with everything he had in him. cyrus cared for them beyond all others; no one matters to him half as much as they do.

moving through years in elementary and middle school, cyrus was popular, charming, well known and well liked, but could tip attitude at the drop of the hat. the moment he was provoked, his wrath came out and found the object of his rage. that indignation, the anger within him, and the willingness to hit first and worry later landed him in and out of detention and even one instance of juvenile arrest.

his mother, more often than not, let the discipline thereafter be dealt with by his father. she loved him, he knew, she just wasn’t the most tolerant woman of the inner workings of a child’s mind, especially one as privileged as her son was.

it seemed worthwhile to louis to enroll young cyrus into boxing classes; he needed discipline and anger management, maybe even to get his ass knocked to the ground every now and again to keep him humble. not only did his fortunes improve, but so did his ability to work past his issues with rage.

a stand out feature of his youth was taking note of his mother’s descent from being a mother with him, to a friend with his brother, and all but an acquaintance with his younger sister. he hated how passive she became, how lacking she was in her attitudes toward her children.

once in training, his studies soared, both academically and in boxing. high school couldn’t have been easier. he was popular as ever, a shining example of what one should be; respectful, protective, intelligent, and above all; engaging. everyone seemed to want him as a friend or a fuck, and cyrus saw nothing wrong with it.

on occasion, there were times he’d take it too far in the boxing ring, move too fiercely and endanger others training around him. cyrus found it far too easy to fight dirty. He liked the snap of bone beneath his knuckles, or the squelch of sweat as a body hit the octagon beneath him. chastised for his behavior and willingness to act out of line, cyrus knew the behavior had to cease. collecting outlets for his anger, he took the advice of his coach and started to write.

he wasn’t good at it, or particularly knowledgeable in the rules of prose, but writing was his therapy. it was the only sympathy he afforded himself to have, and soon the bookshelves in his bedrooms were heavily lined with journals filled cover to cover with simple-minded musings, thoughts, and reports of the days where he could barely tell sunrise from bedtime.

after high school graduation, cyrus decided he’d go the way of the navy. he wanted to make his parents and siblings proud; a noble son that learned the noble art of war. leaving them all behind would hurt, but it would be worth it in the long run. who better to protect his family than a man with all the skills of a trained, combat killing machine?

cyrus signed up when he was 18 and shipped off to basic not long after. nothing shaped his fears for the future quite like the fall of the world trade center in 2001. watching live from a tv in the cafeteria in his senior year of high school; he could recall the tension in the air; everyone in that room knew the wars they spent so much time learning about were now outside their very windows.

he was too tired, he had lived through and seen so much, and despite it all he looked forward to seeing his sister. when he was on his first tour overseas, he took a spare moment to reflect on his family and how much he really missed them. finally, he had time to call home and was soon after met with the news that their mother left. he hadn’t felt a true rage like that in all the months he’d been at war; his efforts were usually better spent.

after the start of the iraq war, cyrus was sent into active combat and shipped overseas to afghanistan. he was a part of two tours, the latter of which was cut short by the detonation of an ied. his left leg was shattered and though they were able to salvage the limb, it wasn’t without extensive surgery and the implantation of a steel rod. cyrus received a purple heart for his action in the service and was honorably discharged and left to return home as a decorated veteran.

by the time he returned to chicago, he had seen too much on his tours, fought and killed and his rage was tripled tenfold. the brothers and sisters he cherished in the service had been lost, killed, or moved on. cyrus felt as if part of him was left out there, far from where he was in chicago.

when he had gone off to war, he worried for his siblings. upon his return, they worried for him; many years his juniors, they couldn’t have been more than twelve and ten respectively. the first fourth of july home was a noted one in the rousseau family. at the first thundering echo of a firework detonating in the sky, cyrus ran and tackled his siblings to the ground and covered their heads. It was a snap instinct, one that came with the echo of bombs overhead.

soon after, he was encouraged to see a therapist through the local va. diagnosed with ptsd as many veterans are, the therapist had an almost sickeningly positive outlook on cyrus’s prognosis. it seemed he was one of the few she believed in to pull himself out of the binds of a mental illness.

after a few sessions, his therapist encouraged him to get a service animal. after signing up and getting his certifications for a service animal taken care of, he adopted a rottweiler puppy. he named him LOOMIS.

however, there is no one can fake a fantasy like the son of a model. outwardly, cyrus was still charming, still personable, and most of all: still lethal. writing did precious little to staunch his emotions, but fighting did. though his training was limited compared to what it had been when he was a kid, he rejoined the local boxing gym and threw himself into the ring. the adrenaline pumping through his veins, the echoes that stirred his memories of war, the numbing catharsis that came after the bell rang all felt like coming home. it seemed the more violent the outburst, the more he felt at home.

there was nothing out of the realm of possibility for cyrus and his tastes; sleeping around, drinking, partying, fighting, living the reckless life of a daredevil whenever given the chance. joining the o’sheas after his father was a move that made sense. every risky behavior was lidocaine on a burn, a cool soothing menthol that eased the scald of emotions he’d rather not feel. binge after binge, everything started to blur together- no obligation, no feeling, nothing but the bed of a woman who would have him.

when he carried out what was asked of him as an initiation, he did so quickly, cleanly, and concisely. after all he’d seen on the plane of war, the carnage came as second nature. it made sense to do it for the sake of the family he claimed.

like all fears, his soon became realized. their father disappeared. though cyrus searched, he quickly lost hope they would ever find their father alive. he had seen enough in the service to know that if someone was gone for long enough, the’d never come back. with this effectuation of his father’s fate in mind, it became all too apparent to cyrus that everything changed.

cyrus couldn’t afford to be a mess in front of his siblings or in front of the walsh’s. he was the theoretical head of the rousseau’s. he would be their protector, and do everything in his power to ensure their safety and happiness. it felt as though everything fell to him; he could not be anything less than the man his father.

#crimson.intro #war tw #murder tw #violence tw #welcome to cyrus #this boy is a shit heap #but love him pls

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fictionxing · 5 years ago

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When It Rains... Mando x Reader | 2033 Words | Fluffy Goodness

A/N: So uh, forgive any weird tense shifts. I’ll try and fix them tomorrow when it’s not 2am. Also might make a part two where there’s more flirting if there’s interest!

Of course you would get stuck here. It was, after all, supposed to be a quick job. Land on the planet, find the bail jumper (as there seemed to be many bail jumpers in the outer rim these days), cart him back to the ship. The contact didn’t bother to mention that the planet the bail jumper was on had an ever present storm that roamed across the plant and it was scheduled to occupy the area right after you landed. Which, none you knew until after you landed.

So, it was more like the ship got stuck here and, therefore, you, the Mandalorian, and the tiny green child were stuck here too. You personally found the rain calming and watching the rivets travel down the windows in the cockpit was fairly occupying. Your companions, however, were not enjoying the days spent cooped up in what is honestly a rather small ship. Privacy was becoming an ever present and highly sought after luxury.

And, to your credit, you tried to keep out of Mando’s hair. It couldn’t be comfortable being forced to wear the helmet all the time and the poor man needed to eat on occasion. The child, on the other hand, was beginning to find all new places he could explore, which only made you and Mando more stressed. He was curious which meant he was often mischievous after exploring all of the easy to access places. In turn, it meant Mando and yourself were often having to keep a closer eye on him than normal causing further frustrations.

Glancing down, you tapped at you HoloPad once more, attempting to see if you could get any signal at all. If you could find when the end of the rain would be here, it may make it easier for Mando. At least, you thought it could help, as it would signal an end to being in cramped quarters. However, the storm was causing all sorts of interference due to being both incredibly large and seemingly never-ending. You sighed and tossed the tablet onto the dashboard. It was of no use anyway.

Behind you, you hear the sound of the door opening and you turn to see the Child waddling towards you. When he see you, he coos and waddles faster, extending a hand towards you in order to give you whatever it is he’s holding.

“Mah!” he pronounced proudly, his small arms reaching up towards you.

“Ah, what do you have here?” you asked, grinning down at him. No doubt he was involved something mischievous but seeing him so proud of his present was heartwarming. Reaching down, you took the long metal tube he was holding, realizing it was the removable scope Mando kept on his Amban rifle. “Hmm, are you supposed to have this?” you asked, an eyebrow raising as you glanced down at the child. His ear drooped slightly, obviously upset that you weren’t pleased with his gift. He babbled for a moment and you sighed, reaching down to pull him into your arms as you stood.

“Thank you for the gift,” you said. “But, this belongs to Mando and I think he’s really going to miss it. We should probably return it to him.” He responded with a long coo, ears hanging low. It pulled at your heart to see him so sad, so you tweaked one of his ears and smiled once more. “Come on, let’s go find him, hm?” The child perked up a small bit at your good humor and you began to make your way down to the hold of the ship.

Climbing down the ladder with one hand was tricky, but you managed by going slowly. As you reached the bottom, you could hear the sounds of Mando rummaging through one of his crates. Before you came into view, you knocked loudly against the metal siding of the ship, warning him of your presence just in case. You could hear him softly sigh before calling out, “Yes?”

Taking that to mean you could round the corner safely, you stepped into the loading dock to see Mando surrounded by several opened crates and the Amban rifle sitting on the small table in a few pieces. “I’m sorry,” you apologized, setting the child on one of the unopened crates. “I just wanted to bring this back to you. Someone decided to bring me a gift, but I figured you needed it more.”

As you held out the scope towards him, you heard him sigh again - this time deeper than before. “I was wondering how I had lost it,” he said, reaching out to take it. “I probably should have guessed it was the womp rat.” Despite the rather uncouth nickname, you could hear the warmth in his tone. Even the battle-hardened Mandalorian couldn’t stay mad at the child, it seemed.

“I can say he has wonderful taste,” you replied. “Even without the rifle, that’s a handy piece of tech.”

You felt your body warm as he chuckled. “Yes, it is,” he said simply, moving back to the table in order to properly finish the job of reconstructing his rifle.

You stood there awkwardly for a few moments, not knowing quite what to do. After a moment, a rattling noise caught your attention and you turned to see the Child attempting to climb inside one of the open crates. Sighing, you pulled him out and setting him on the table next to Mando before turning and beginning to pack away the crate.

“You don’t have to do that.” You turned to look over your shoulder, seeing Mando grabbing a few items as well.

“It’s fine,” you assured, giving him a small smile though feeling a weight in your gut. “I’ll just gather up everything and close the lids and then I’ll head back up.” You didn’t to impose on his company if he didn’t want you there, but he was also currently occupied. It would only take a few minutes to tidy up and then you would leave him to his work.

“It’s my mess,” he replied. “I can take care of it.”

“Of course,” you said, wanting to argue but your logical side urging you to keep the peace winning out. “I’ll just… head up back up then.” You stepped around him, making sure to keep a wide berth. You heard the child coo in confusion as you walked past but you ignore him.

As you climbed the ladder, you felt a lump in your throat form. Once you had safely made your way back into the cockpit and the metal doors were safely shut behind you, you leaned against them and gently thumped your head against it. “Idiot,” you thought. “You know he isn’t the mood for your hovering.” Sighing to yourself, you pressed the heels of your palms into your hands to will yourself to stop the feeling of tears forming. “What a silly thing to be upset about,” you thought. It was becoming more apparent over the course of your time stuck together that you had started develop feelings of… fondness… toward the Mandalorian. While you originally admired him and found him to be a fair and capable partner through your adventures in the galaxy, you had come to treasure the quiet moments between you.

You knew what was happening - you weren’t stupid after all. His chuckles caused your stomach to come to life with butterflies. The brief and rather innocuous touches caused your heart to beat faster. And anytime you saw him with the child your stomach would flip. But a crush on a Mandalorian… it was idiocy. Yes, he was a good man and no, the fact that you’d never seen him didn’t bother you. But you knew, in broad strokes, what his code was and the obligations he was required to fulfill. He had made both very clear when you’d joined his crew. You respected it and even found yourself doing what you could to help him reach his goals. But within that… there wasn’t much room for romance. Thus, all of these feelings were pointless and made you act like a fool.

“No point beating yourself up,” you murmured. You can be his friend. You can help him. Both of those are important and worthwhile even without acting on your feelings. Focus on those instead. Taking a final deep breath, you began to stand up when the door behind you suddenly opened, sending you falling backwards.

Thankfully you didn’t tumble to the ground, but instead felt your back collide with a rather solid and hard chest. You looked up to see Mando staring down at you and you can see your shocked face staring back at you in the shiny metal.

“Are you alright?” he asked quietly, and you could feel the rumble from them in his chest.

Blinking a few times, you finally came to your senses. “Yes! I’m fine!” you said, a little too loudly and hastily moved to stand upright. “Sorry! I didn’t realize you were coming up behind me.”

He was quiet for a moment, simply staring at you through the visor of his helmet. You felt yourself start to fidget and forced you hands behind your back. Suddenly he asked, “Is something wrong?”

The question took you by surprise. Again, you blinked at him a few times before your gaze fell the the floor. “Um, no?” you said.

“You don’t sound sure.”

“Just probably feeling a little cabin fever,” you said.

He didn’t respond, but instead moved into the cockpit more fully, finally letting the doors close behind him. “I…” he started, sounding unsure of himself. That was… new. “Are you…”

“Really, Mando,” you said, interrupting him and forcing a smile on your face. “It’s fine. I’m okay.” You gave him an affirming nod and turned to sit down in the co-pilot’s seat but felt his gloved hand catch your wrist. It surprised you, and you turned to face him again. He didn’t immediately speak and you wondered what he was thinking. You wished you could see his face so at least you could get some clues.

“I just…” he started, still sounding unsure. “I just wanted to make sure that I haven’t… done… anything.”

“Done anything?” you asked. “No, of course not!”

“So… you’re not… frightened of me?”

“Frightened?” you repeated. “No, not at all!”

“Then why have you been avoiding me?” he asked and even without seeing his face you could tell he was feeling vulnerable at even asking.

“I haven’t-” you started, but he cut you off before you could continue.

“Don’t lie,” he said. “You’ve been… fidgety. And you don’t look at me much anymore, like you’re avoiding me. You’ve been jumpy when I speak. And don’t say it’s because we’re stuck here. It’s was happening before we landed.”

Your mouth opened and closed a few times, and you felt a little like a fish just gaping at him. “I’m not… jumpy. I’m just… I mean, it’s been stressful and… uh.” Now it was your turn to be tongue-tied, it seemed. “I didn’t want to intrude on your space,” you finally said, sighing. “It’s just me being weird, is all. It’s nothing you need to worry about. I promise.”

He stared at you for a long moment before he did something that surprised you. In a slow and, perhaps, unpracticed motion, he pulled you closer and wrapped his arms around you. Mando was… hugging you? It was a strange hug, considering the stiffness of his arms and hardness of his metal armor, but a hug nonetheless. You wrapped your arms around him in return, pressing your face against the cool Beskar against his chest.

“Thank you,” he finally said. “And… know that you are never intruding. I’ve… uh… missed your conversations. It’s hard to have one with a kid who doesn’t talk, after all.”

You giggled and pulled away from him. “That’s fair. I just know that it’s probably difficult and I didn’t want to feel compelled to always wear the helmet, just for my sake.”

“It’s a small price to pay for your company,” he replied and you felt your cheeks light up. Oh, what you wouldn’t give for your own helmet now.

#the mandalorian #mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #din djarin #reader fic #din djarin X reader #some baby yoda tho not as much as I'd like #also i have no idea what this is #it's 2am forgive meeeee

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rcncgaades · 4 years ago

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↪ brief introduction to felix beringer.

BASICS

full name: felix isaak beringer. nickname(s): feli. age: thirty. date of birth: 9 april 1990. zodiac sign: aries. place of birth: charlottenburg, berlin, germany. ethnicity: white. nationality: british & german. gender: cis male. sexual orientation: pansexual. romantic orientation: panromantic. religion: he was raised in a protestant household but he’s long since stopped practicing - he isn’t entirely sure he practiced in earnest even when he was a child. education: bachelor’s in history & german literature and culture ( new york university ). occupation: history teacher at turtle bay high school. language(s) spoken: english & german ( primarily, he learned them at the same time as a child and considers them both to be his first languages ). italian, french & spanish ( he’s fascinated with languages and spent hours upon hours learning them on his own ). accent: although it took him nearly a year of practice to make his accent less pronounced he still has a very slight german accent; it deepens when he’s stressed or comfortable but he still never quite sounds anything other than german.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

face claim: jason ralph. hair color: brown. eye color: brown. height: 5′8″. weight: 150 lbs. build: slim. tattoos: he doesn’t have any tattoos. piercings: he doesn’t have any piercings. distinguishing characteristics: his accent, the fact that he’s nearly always adjusting his glasses in some way or another, his smile, his eagerness to talk about things he’s passionate about.

PERSONALITY

label: — positive traits: amiable, articulate, brilliant, capable, clever, compassionate, contemplative, curious, dedicated, earnest, enthusiastic, friendly, gentle, generous, hardworking, loyal, observant, passionate, patient, perfectionist, protective, reliable, studious. negative traits: ambitious, competitive, intense, self-conscious. aloof, anxious, impulsive, insecure, opinionated, passive, possessive, secretive, shy, timid. goals/desires: to make a name for himself outside of his family, to become a person he can be genuinely proud of, to finally settle into who he is, to be comfortable with himself. fears: never truly being a good person, losing everyone he cares about, dying without making an impact on the world. hobbies: reading, learning new languages, hunting down new teas to try, lesson-planning, playing with his cat, journaling, hiking, writing in general, searching out historical events that are under-researched, researching said historical events, spending time with his friends, crocheting, playing violin, listening to classical music, spending time at the local library, attending historical reenactments. quirks: he talks with his hands almost to a fault, constantly adjusts his glasses when he’s nervous or when he’s thinking, mumbles to himself in german when he’s particularly grumpy about something or trying to sort out a difficult problem in his head, he occasionally has a bit of a stammer when he’s really excited about whatever he’s talking about -- his thoughts barrel along much more quickly than his speech. likes: german food, good beer, good tea, learning new skills, his cat & animals in general, learning new things in general, being able to speak german or any of the other languages he knows that aren’t english, teaching, the feeling of knowing his students appreciate what he’s teaching them, being around people ( on occasion ), flirting, punk music, classical music, patterned ties, dressing up for work, the history channel, period films, historical fiction, european history. dislikes: being talked down to, most social interactions unless he’s in the mood for them, the way his parents coddle him, crowded spaces, incompetence, snakes, reality television, horror movies, peas, being considered a disappointment, performance reviews, parent-teacher conferences.

FAMILY

father: caleb andrew beringer. mother: antonia elisabeth fromm. sibling(s): gabriel alexander beringer, jonas dominik beringer, abigail eleanore beringer. pet(s): an american bobtail cat named frumpkin. financial status: upper class.

BIOGRAPHY

Felix was born in Berlin to the British ambassador to Germany ( Caleb Beringer ) and a well-known german socialite ( Antonia Fromm ). As the oldest of what would eventually be four Beringer children Felix was held to an incredibly high standard and given every opportunity to rise to the expectations placed upon him seemingly from birth. His parents, both established and talented socialites and politicians in their own right were well-known for navigating the political minefield of their country with an ease that most found enviable and others seemed to find sycophantic at best. Felix himself learned from a very early age to embrace the dichotomy his parents had leaned into their entire lives and he himself, as a naturally gifted speaker and student of any discipline his parents deemed appropriate to learn, thrived under their teaching.

It wasn’t until his teenage years that Felix began to notice his parents leaning far more heavily into disreputable dealings the likes of which Felix hardly even considered legal but some that he witnessed first hand that left him feeling guilty and disillusioned as to the nature of the things he’d been taught to appreciate and lean into throughout his life and what good he had ever really been expected to do as a person. His family’s descent into ever more disreputable and violent dealings was Felix’s primary impetus for applying for a student visa to the United States and subsequently enrolling at NYU as soon as he was able to do so, though he told his family he simply had a desire to experience a new country on his own as he came into himself as an adult man in the world who had, until that point, been fairly sheltered. He double majored in history and German literature and culture - though he had no real plans for what his life would look like after he graduated from university.

He was fresh out of university when he agreed to go on a backpacking trip with one of his best friends from school and the pair of them found themselves in the Blue Ridge Mountains. Felix hadn’t intended to fall in love with the area nor Turtle Bay, one of the last towns they intended to visit on their trip but he’d been enamored with the people and the feeling of comfort that seemed to envelop him from the moment he set foot in the town.

Felix is, at the core of his being, a genuinely good man - but he’s been conditioned by his family to lean into the darker aspects of himself as a person and his fear of disappointing him by choosing to leave everything they’ve taught him behind haunts him to such an extent that he’s never been able to do the things during his life that he knows would make him feel at least marginally happy. Considering his parents’ wealth he’s never really had to work much but earned his teaching credential and began his tenure as a history teacher at Turtle Bay High School shortly after his move was finalized.

He’s an extremely brilliant person academically and has little trouble interacting with people though he has a tendency towards shyness and secrecy if only because he wants to present a version of himself that people will like. Regardless of whether it’s entirely honest at any given moment. He’s prone to liking bad jokes and really, really loves beer and good food. Attention flusters him easily but he’s had a string of boyfriends and girlfriends and casual flings because he rarely lets himself settle down when he’s not content with who he is as a person - he feels he can’t really provide a long-term partner with anything substantial or worthwhile. His first language is German and he’s always excited to meet other German speakers; he still calls his family every week and keeps them loosely updated on what he’s doing with himself.

#「 felix — general 」 » felix beringer.#intro.

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ssixa · 4 years ago

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Feel Special //Narachan x OC (BW)

Description: Nala realizes that nice guys can make more than just great friends.

Genre: fluff, SMUT!!!

Pairing: Narachan (from M.O.N.T) x OC (BW)

Word count: 5.4k

Content warning: switch, mommy kink, daddy kink, profanity, language

A/N: shit I wish I did this art, but I found this black girl pic on the internet and I just had to use it! it’s absolutely beautiful. So full on S/O to the Pinterest profile Jess Create. Idk this person, but the artwork is just absolutely too beautiful not to share<3. This was technically my first time writing smut and I suck at it, so...sorry.

*All pic collages are made by me unless I state otherwise. Individual pictures in the collage are not mine and I give credit to where credit is due.

Nala found herself in one of those unique circumstances where she ended up living with 2 other men. The only difference was that she knew one of them by the name of Bitsaeon since childhood. While growing up she made another friend by the name of Roda and it didn’t take long for all of them to get close and be each others closest friend. At some time during high school, Roda ended up moving away and it wasn’t until later in their 20s that Roda decided to move back, but instead it would be better and financially easier if all three of them lived together. That’s how Nala came to live with these two men who conveniently were her already good friends.

Nothing honestly became awkward between them. They survived each others hook up moments they had in the apartment (both the warned and not warned moments). Others around them knew that they were close and wondered if Nala ever had any feelings for either at any point in time and her answer was always no. She knew majority of the females, whereever they were, always tried flirting with the boys, but she always helped them out when they had no interest in doing anything with those girls by pretending to be in a relationship with them. That’s how close she was to these boys.

A new friend by the name of Narachan popped up around the time they all moved in together. He knew Roda and Bit from their work at the record label where the staff at the company gathered them to work on a project for the debut group under the company. During the project, they became close so when it eventually came to an end they kept in contact with each other. Eventually, Roda and Bit invited Narachan over to the apartment to be able to finally meet Nala in person and to hangout altogether. Nala was only ever acquainted with him through pictures and few brief exchanges over the phone. She was curious as to what kind of person he was.

The day Narachan finally came over, the two hit it off instantly. He was honestly just like Bit and Roda so it wasn’t hard trying to figure him out. They spent a whole evening together playing games, drinking, and just vibing. Nara spent the night on the couch since he had a little too much to drink and wouldn’t be able to drive back to his place. She gathered blankets and a pillow for him and wished him a goodnight. The next morning she woke up early (since for some reason she wakes up earlier after a night of drinking) and decided to grab hangover food for everyone. The smell of food eventually woke everyone up and they all enjoyed a nice breakfast. Nara evetually left after she convinced him to not worry about paying her back for the food.

“So~” Bit speaks up while they (they as in Roda, Bit, and Nala) were having a lazy Saturday evening.

“So what?” Nala replied as she was taking down her hair that was long overdue. She always had a love hate relationship with her hair since it tended to be the 4c type. Her hair looked beautifully filled out when the cornrows are taken out, but once water touched it the shrinkage is real.

“Narachan, y’all seem to have hit it off a lot better than Roda and I predicted” he replied.

“Honestly he’s adorable. He seriously reminds me of you two idiots so it’s probably why we got along so well” She answers focused a section of a row that refused to come out.

“oooohhhh does our Nala have a crush on our new friend?” Roda speaks up mockingly

“Oh shut up and no, he’s just chill and there for the vibe so I appreciate it” She replies smacking him on the shoulder. The room filled with laughter and the evening continued on as everyone did absolutely nothing worthwhile.

Months passed by and eveyone were just as close as ever. One particular day, Nala had a date with a guy she had been talking to online and was beyond excited. Roda and Bit knew about her date and in order for them not to die of boredom without her, they planned a boys night out with Narachan. While getting ready in her room, she could hear Narachan walk in the front door, he really just wasn’t a very quiet human being. She felt proud of her outfit for the night. It was a cute, body shaping, off the shoulder black dress and black heels with a little silver jewelry to match. Her makeup was simple as well since she wasn’t one to wear a lot in the first place. Her date and her were going to an art gallery event since they both shared a love for those types of artistic events.

After giving herself a look over, Nala grabs her purse and leaves her room. She walks into the kitchen to grab a glass of water before heading out.

“WOOOWWWW” Nala hears Roda exclaim followed by a whistle

“Oh shut up” she rolls her eyes in response

“But honestly, does it look like too much? I mean we are going to an art show at a gallery” she start giving herself a once over having second thoughts.

“You look amazing” she hears Nara speak up. She looks up and sees him quickly avoid eye contact with her. Odd.

“Thanks boo” she replies back like she always does. Nala was one of those nickname girls who calls everyone boo, dude, or bruh so this didn’t phase anyone...well that’s what she assumed at least. She gave herself a once over when she gets a message from her date saying that he was outside. She tells the boys to have a fun night and not be too reckless without her around. They wished her a good night and she left the house ready for an amazing night.

That date was absolutely terrible. The whole night was a mess and it was because of him messing up left to right. They got to the event and turns out he bought faulty tickets for the event on some sketchy website so he pretty much got scammed. Nala let that pass since the night was still young so she decided they should go in anyways. She ended up paying for her own ticket which she found quite irritating because she really was only planning to spend very little if nothing at all tonight. They get into the event which was absolutely amazing. The ambiance of the whole place was set nicely and matched very well with the different art pieces posted around the small building. They had little snacks and drinks to offer guests since they came with the ticket purchase so she ate only a little expecting them to go to dinner like he had planned.

During the whole event though, he drank and ate to his hearts content and when she reminded me him about dinner after he said this was it. That had her fuming because the last thing he can do to piss her off is mess with the relationship between food and her. He walked around flirting with other women at the event and fully neglected the art that they came here for. Even when they walked around, he stayed on his phone and only looked up to say “that’s cool” or “I don’t get it”. At least she could understand now that he lied about being an arts lover. They left the event and at that point she was ready to go home. He tried making a move on her which is what she realized was his whole motive for the night. He wasn’t too pleased at her rejecting him and called her a bitch and a dumb slut. So she called herself an uber and blocked his number.

Honestly, they had talked for a few weeks so Nala thought it would work out, but she guessed it wasn’t in the stars. This always happened though. She could never find herself a decent guy because they either become a friend or end up being an asshole. You may ask “why not date the friend that’s decent then?” well it’s because once they hit it off, she finds it hard to see them any other way. Nala can acknowledge that they’re attractive, but that’s it. Another failed date for the books, hopefully the boys bought some alcohol so she could drown her sorrows.

Nala unlocks the front door to the apartment and kicks off her shoes once inside. She throws her stuff on the kitchen table and heads for the fridge. She opens it grateful there’s a new case of ales stocked and ready to be consumed. She cracks open the bottle and chugs half of it down.

“Um, Nala, you good?” She heard Narachan speak up from the darkness of the living room. This nearly causes her to choke not having realized he was there. She spends a few minutes coughing her lungs out before trying to say anything.

“Oh my god I’m sorry, did I scare you?!” he exclaims standing up from the sofa

“I’m fine, and yes you literally just scared the shit out of me” she laughs after finally coming down.

“Oh sorry” he says scratching the back of his neck

“You’re fine and to answer the first question before I just almost died, no I’m not good. Tonight was terrible” she sighs grabbing herself another drink from the fridge and heading to the sofa.

“You wanna talk about it” he asks sitting down beside her. She agreed and began telling him all that happened. Thoughtlessly laying her head on his shoulder and linking her arms around his. This tended to be her comfort mechanism whenever she vented her feelings. Bit and Roda were used to it by now, but very comforting to her as she poured out her feelings to them. So it didn’t seem weird to her to do it with Nara since she now considered him one of her good friends. They sat there in the darkness staring at the blank tv at the front of the room.

“I swear is it that guys think I’m ugly or take me as a joke? I seriously don’t know what’s wrong with me”

“Nala you’re an absolutely amazing person. I do admit that your taste in men is pretty bad though” he replies with a laugh.

“Yeah I guess it is” she replies back with a sad laugh.

“If you don’t mind me asking, but Roda and Bit are actually amazing guys. Why is it you’ve never thought of a relationship with one of them” he comments

“Lol you wouldn’t be the first to ask that. I do admit that they’re amazing and not actually ugly. It just happens that guys that are amazing I end up becoming friends with them. There ends up being no feelings to them and I don’t know why that is, but it is” she states with an acknowledging sigh.

“So you can’t date decent guys because you end up becoming good friends with them?” he repeats back

“Pretty much” she sighs for the nth time tonight.

“So I guess there’s no hope for me huh?” he adds with a slight laugh. It took a moment for his words to register in her brain.

“Wait...Nara, what d-did you just say” she stutters out

“Honestly, I’ve liked you ever since I first came to your place” he replies

“Nara that was months ago. Why didn’t you tell me?” she replies back still in shock

“I know and it would’ve been weird since we had just met. You are an absolutely amazing person and I didn’t want to ruin our friendship that had barely just started”

“I- Nara”

“It’s ok that you don’t feel the same way, I just thought you should know. I hope this doesn’t affect our friendship” he says finally looking down at her. She finally turns her head to look up from his shoulder. He just has a soft smile on his face. Nala doesn’t know what came over her, but she leaned in and kissed him. She could feel him freeze for a second, but finally lean into it. It was a soft and innocent kiss. They separated after what felt like forever.

“Nala, y-you don’t have to force yourself to like me back I promise I’ll be fine” he says still in shock

“You idiot, I’ve liked you for a little while now” she comments back laughing

“W-what did you...”

“I haven’t like you as long as you’ve liked me, but I think I realized my feelings not that long ago. I think you have been one of my first friends I’ve actually fell for” she replies back shyly looking away. They sat in silence over the confessions that have just been admitted. Next thing she realizes is a hand grabbing her chin up and lips back on hers. The kiss was intense and saw no end. Nara slowly laid her down on the sofa without the kiss having any sort of break. She wrapped her arms around his neck trying to bring him closer to her. The kiss, which really turned out to be a make out session finally reached it’s breaking point and they both needed to catch their breaths.

They starred into each others eyes catching their breath,

“Nala, please let me show you how amazing and worth it you really are” he says with almost pleading eyes

“O-okay” she reply back. He leaned back down connecting their lips once again in another heated kiss. Shs could feel his hands roaming her frame which only sent shivers down her spine and having her get butterflies in her stomach. His lips made his way to her chin then down to her neck and shoulder. The feeling of his lips were light and yet deadly like an addictive poison. Sbs felt him nip at her shoulder which caused slight pain to turn into immense pleasure.

Nala felt his hands that were still left roaming go towards the back of her thighs. Before she knew it, he had picked her up to straddle him. He proceeded to stand up and she instinctively wrapped her legs around him. She paid no mind to what was happening because she could tell they were walking towards her room. He opened the door and once inside kicked it closed with his foot. He carried her to her bed where he laid her down and hovered not ceasing to leave leave alone for even a second. After what felt like another eternity, she felt him fully disappear. She let out a moan from the sudden lack of him and opened her eyes to see what was happening.

“Now sweetheart, can you take off that pretty little black dress for me” he said with a dark lusd filled voice. She starred at him completely amazed by the man who looks like Nara, but doesn’t sound like the one she know.

“Don’t make me ask you twice” he said slightly threateningly. She pulled her dress off over her head as fast as she could. She realized that apart from her lace underwear the only other thing she had on was the pasties covering her nipples so they wouldn’t poke out through the dress. At this realization, she covered herself up, but also realized that his dark gaze added an extra shiver up her spine.

“Nala, you’re beautiful. Don’t hide yourself from me” he says as he reaches out to put her arms by her side.

“C-can you at least take your shirt off...” she asks softly.

“Not yet. First I’m going to make you feel good” Nara utters with a smirk. He kneels and centers himself between her legs making himself at eye level to her. He goes in for another intense kiss to her lips. He pushes her down slowly onto the bed while he leads the trail of kisses down her neck then to the center of her chest. He reaches up and carefully removes the pasties from her right nipple. He then reaches towards her left nipple and removes the other pasty from there.

He start rolling the right nipple with his fingers and attacks the left one with his mouth. The sucking, tugging, and small licks he delivered out her in a state of near ecstasy. She felt the heat between her legs growing the more it was left neglected. She wanted him, needed him.

“P-please Nara, I need you” she begged. He released his right hand and glided it down her stomach to her inner thigh. She was going crazy, she craved the touch that was so close yet time made it seem so far away. Nara, slowly glided his fingers up to her heat and on to her sensitive nub. He didn’t do anything, but place his finger on her nub but that little gesture had her floating.

“F-fuck please, do something Nara” she begged

“Baby you’re so needy. Trust me this will all be worth it” he says softly. As she was about to respond he shoved one finger into her heat with no chance of warning

“F-FUCK FUCK OH MY G—OHHHH” she blurted out. He started moving his fingers in and out as he continued sucking on her now very sensitive nipple.

“A-another p-please” she begged. The one wasn’t giving her the feeling she wanted only the bare build up. He adds in a second finger and pumps faster. He curves his fingers which ended up hitting the spot that would send sparks flying.

“Found it” he whispers seducingly when he heard her let out a big moan. His pumps were constant, but fast and he could tell she was close to her release with her heat being like a vacuum to his fingers and removing them became increasingly difficult. To really push her over the edge, he placed his thumb on her clit and started circling motions causing more arousal than she even knew she could get.

“F-fuck N-Nara I’m so fucking close fuck” she squeaks out. He went faster and faster and her climax hit,

“F-FUCK DADDY” she exclaims as she pushes her orgasm with the help of his fingers. She started seeing sparks and felt like this could have only been a dream.

“So...daddy. I love the sound of that coming from your lips” he leans down to whisper in her ear once he finishes her

“I-I...” she had no words to say. She always knew this was one of her kinks, but never had she imagined calling this sweet “innocent” man daddy.

“So what do you want daddy to do for you princess?” He says in a deeper tone

“I need you Nara” she says softly with eyes looking in all directions but his

“That isn’t my name now is it” he glares

“Please d-daddy, I need you” she begged once again

“Now that’s my good girl” he replies. He stands up ripping off his shirt in a way that was a lot more sexy than needed. She never realized how fit Nara actually was and she could’ve honestly never guessed either. He continues on removing his pants leg by leg as their eye contact never broke from his. He tossed his pants to the side and grabbed the rim to his maroon boxer-briefs. All she could do was swallow at what would be occurring in just a few moments.

Nara agonizingly slow removed the clothing finally letting his hard member spring free. He wasn’t big, but he definitely wasn’t small either; he was just right. She could feel drool pool up and risk escaping her mouth. She just wanted to wrap her mouth around his member and suck him dry, but as soon as she sat up making her way towards himl, he stops her.

“Baby girl, what do you think you’re doing” he asks with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

“I-I just want to make daddy feel good” she replied without breaking eye contact with his hard member.

“As much as I appreciate the thought, I already told you I would make you realize how amazing you are” he says softly pushing her back on the bed.

“B-but I-”

“No. Now answer me. Are you on birth control?” he asks in a demanding tone

“Y-yes” she replies softly. She still wasn’t used to this side of Narachan.

“Good” is all he replies. He bends and spreads her legs and then pulls her bent legs forward to shift her whole body to the edge of the bed.

“You ready?” He asks almost as to make sure this is what she actually wants.

“Na- daddy, please” she looks at him with pleading eyes. At the very end of her statement he leans forward slowing filling up her hungry and deprived core. He pauses for a minute giving her time to adjust and once she said she was fine and he could move, he pulled out part way and pushed back in slowly.

His few slow strokes had her feeling like you were on cloud nine, but after a little while she hated to say it but she needed more.

“D-daddy please faster” she pleaded. On command, he started moving faster snapping his hips like he had been waiting for those words his whole life. He just as quickly got over this one position. He pulled out and she let out a sigh at the sudden emptiness.

“Hands and knees, now” he commands. Nala flips quick needing to be filled once more. She was expecting him to be gentle in the beginning until she told him it was ok to go faster, but she was wrong. Nara thrusted his hard member without warning cause her to let out a moan that she knew her poor neighbors would be able to hear. He was in pulling and pushing in and out at a constant yet fast speed.

Nala could feel her stomach tension build up and she knew she wouldn’t be able to last very much longer.

“I’m so close” she whaled out not caring who could hear her. Her moans became increasingly louder which encouraged Nara to go faster and deeper and one particular thrust hit her spot at just the right angle. She let out the biggest moan she had ever heard herself let out. He knew what he had done and made it a point to hit the exact spot back to back. He added the circling of her clit giving her an extra push to her splendid end.

She never realized sex could feel this amazing. Her past hookups were good for the moment but easily forgettable. With Nara, she doesn’t think she’ll ever be able to forget this. She always said that “having a big dick doesn’t always mean men always know how to use it” (a/n: I’ve heard this so many times so I can’t really give credit to a specific person...so credit to social media lol). As her moans persisted, he never let up until the very end. The tension finally peaked and she was hit with her climax.

Nara kept thrusting and circling her clit helping her ride out her high for a little while longer. Nala’s limbs gave out and she couldn’t bare her own weight anymore. She fell on her side trying to catch her breath and stopping the convulsions running through her body almost like they were trying to milk out as much of her climax as possible. Nara makes his way to the side of the bed, picking her up and moving her up the the head of the bed and covering her with the bed sheets.

“W-wait Nara...you didn’t cum did you?” She asks as she sits up slowly.

“It’s ok, this was for you...all for you” he finishes with a soft shy voice. He for the nth time threw her off tonight. Maybe this guy is bipolar because this wasn’t the same boy that was just ramming his cock into her only a moment ago.

“No. It’s not ok.” Nala deadpans

“Sit.” She commands. Out of nowhere, Nara found himself obeying and sitting on the bed. She climbs out of the bed with whatever new found strength she got out of nowhere and made her way between his legs. Her lips became at level with his still painfully erected member that was slightly oozing with precum.

“So you’re saying that you were going to deal with this yourself? Nara, you made me feel special, more than a lot of people who have been in my life so let me do the same for you” she says without hesitation, but a lot of confidence.

“But, Nala” he tried to interject

“That wasn’t a statement open for an opinion” she cuts him off before he could finish his statement.

“Now, tell me what I can do for you baby” she cooed lightly kissing his tip. He let out a small moan to only try and repress the others that would follow. She slapped her hands on his thighs using them as a way to propel herself towards him. Her lips slightly grazing his ear,

“No holding back. I want to hear you” she says with an evil whisper while placing her hand on his member and stroking it dreadfully slow. She pulls back to make eye contact with the now frazzled man who tries his best to keep as much composure as possible. That failed. He let out a small string of grunts and moans that he gave up trying to suppress. So with a smile, Nala commands,

“So tell me what you want mommy to do”

“P-please suck me off...m-mommy” he says with a breathless tone.

“Anything for my baby” she replies with a smirk. She gets back on her knees and licks a strip from base to tip. She then wraps her lips around his member and begins to bob her head, hallowing her cheeks out. Nara continues on with his moans and grunts.

“Mommy please faster...deeper” he says barely able to get his words out. Nala did as requested making him moan out “yeses” and “fucks”. Just like Nala, Nara felt the tension of his climax building up.

“Fuck I’m so close...mommy....please...inside you” was all he was able to muster out. She releases his member with a pop that echoed through the room. She stands a little ways in front of him,

“So what position baby do you want me” she says with a lustful gaze. His boldness takes over as he grabs her arm and bends her over the edge of the bed. He pushes his member in and starts thrusting a a decently quick pace. The room is filled with slaps of skin to skin and strings of moans and profanity.

Nara brought Nala’s body up to a standing position with his member still deep in her, but the skin on her back molding with his chest. He continued with his last few thrusts before meeting his ultimate bliss. He thrusted a few more times to let out whatever seed he felt like he left in him. He pulled out causing Nala to feel emptiness once again while she laid back in the bed and he goes to the bathroom to grab a towel.

He comes back and cleans both of them up and tosses the used towel into the laundry basket. He gets back into bed and pulls her in so they’re chest to chest.

“Hey Nala” he speaks up

“Mhmm” was all she was able to get out.

“You know I like you right?” He asks

“Dumbass...I really like you too” she replies back with a light hit to his chest. He laughs as he pulls her in for a closer hug. Not too long later, they both were fast asleep in each other’s arms.

The next morning, the sun beamed through the window of Nala’s bedroom. Nara was the first to open his eyes and he couldn’t be more at peace looking at Nala’s sleeping form. He couldn’t believe that the girl he’s pretty much been in love with for the past months is finally in his arms. He must’ve not realized he zoned out because when he finally snapped back to reality, Nala was staring back at him with her beautiful brown eyes.

“G-good morning” he stutters out

“Good morning” Nala replies in a sleepy voice

“So...breakfast?” He quirks up

“Pancakes sound amazing right now ” Nala laughs

“Definitely, let me go make some” Nara snaps up as he begins to get out of bed. Nala suddenly reaches out for his arm,

“What’s wrong?” Nara looks back kind of concerned

“Nara, let’s make them together...for a commemoration...” she shyly speaks up.

“Commemoration for what?” He laughs

“Our first day” she says with a warm smile. This reply startles Nara because he realized that he never actually asked Nala out.

“I’m a dumbass, I don’t normally hook up with someone I like before hooking up with them” he hangs his head in embarrassment.

“It’s ok, honestly. Last night was really great” Nala replies lovingly

“It was, wasn’t it” Nara smiles to himself

“But you know what’s even better?”

“What?” Nara questions with a laugh of confusion

“PANCAKES!” Nala replies as she jumps out of the bed and runs to the door. Nara catches her as soon as they reach the kitchen and holds her in his embrace. Nala turns around and reaches up on her tippy toes to give him a quick peck.

“EEEHHHEEEMMMM” a voice comes out of nowhere. Nara and Nala both snap their heads to the mysterious voice and grow a look of embarrassment when they see Bit and Roda sitting in the living room watching tv

“How are you guys like this this early in the morning?” Roda speaks up with a grossed out face

“Ummmm” Nala speaks up

“Ah nevermind, I don’t wanna know. I’m just glad y’all are finally together, Roda you owe me 20 bucks” Bit laughs sticking out his hand. Roda reaches for his wallet and retrieves the 20 to give to Bit.

“What the hell kind of bet did you guys even place?” Nala aks getting increasingly angry.

“Oh just that lover boy over there would confess to you before the end of the month. I was getting nervous that I would lose, but thanks Nara” Bit laughs waving the 20 in the air. Nara’s face got red not realizing that his feelings for you were that obvious to eveyone but you.

“Y’all are assholes” Nala tried to rush them, but stops herself to turn around.

“Wait...Nara...were you in on this?!” She says looking a little heart broken. Nara starts to realize what she means,

“Nala I promise I knew nothing about this. If I did...that wouldn’t make much sense now would it” he replied hastily with his hands up and back.

“Don’t worry Nala, Nara knows nothing of this” Roda replies back with a nonchalant smile.

“Fine, I would’ve ended all of you if it was true” she say with clenched teeth. Nara comes behind her giving her another back hug and she visibly melts into his touch.

“Wait...where were y’all last night. I got home from the freak show of a date and Nara was chilling on the couch by himself”

“Oh we had a last minute edit to make for one of the album tracks we’re making for that new debut group. We were trying to finish up quickly, but when we did...let’s just say we heard and saw more than we wanted to” Roda replies with a shiver.

“Oh my g- wait, don’t tell me y’all stayed in the house the whole night” Nala says in a panic.

“Why the fuck would we want to stay and listen to all of that. As soon as y’all went to the bedroom we dipped and went to the bar with Beomhan” Roda spoke up.

“Wait isn’t he the kid in the debut group you’re working with? Isn’t it risky for him to be out like that?” Nala speaks up and Nara nods in agreement behind her,

“He was bored so what the company doesn’t know won’t kill them” Bit laughs.

“Oh whatever, y’alls career funerals” Nara speaks up laughingly.

“Oh shut up lover boy. On a different note I hear we’re having pancakes” Roda smiles.

#kpop smut #kpop fluff #underrated kpop #m.o.n.t #narachan #roda #bitsaeon #m.o.n.t arena #beomhan #non idol au

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blackswaneuroparedux · 5 years ago

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Anonymous asked: Like many from across the pond in the USA I have been astonished at the amazing story of Captain Tom Moore who at the age of 99 years old walked back and forth across his garden to raise a fantastic amount of money for your national health service (NHS) and into the hearts of your nation. It’s the kind of eccentricity we love about the British. The British media referred to him as Captain Tom Moore so as a former army veteran yourself I wanted to know do you get to use your officer rank after you retire from the British Army? Did you keep your rank after you did your time?

For those who don’t know who Captain Tom Moore is let me briefly recap. On 6 April 2020, at the age of 99, Captain Tom Moore - an army veteran of the Second World War - began to walk around his garden in aid of NHS Charities Together during the COVID-19 pandemic, with the goal of raising £1,000 by his 100th birthday. By 26 April he had raised over £29 million. He quickly became a popular household name in the United Kingdom generating much interest in his life story, and earned a number of accolades. After the his amazing feat, he featured in a cover version of the song “You’ll Never Walk Alone” with proceeds going to the same charity. The song topped the UK music charts and made him the oldest person to ever achieve a UK number one. At present there are plans to celebrate his 100th birthday with the honour of a RAF flypast and a postmark. There is also public pressure for the Queen to knight him - a worthy honour indeed.

I would use many superlatives to describe what Captain Tom Moore’s did - heroic, marvellous, and bloody brilliant comes to mind - but one thing I would never call what he did is eccentric. There is nothing eccentric in his outstanding example. Rather I think it typifies the British character to a tee. I think the way the British people have responded to Captain Tom Moore’s heroic example is partly indicative of how the British still like to see themselves in a time of acute crisis. His example rightly inspires many and reminds us of who we are too. Forgive me but my intent is not to sound too jingoistic because I’m also broadly impressed with how the French have responded to this crisis (since I live in Paris) with being good and helpful neighbours and showing grace and easy humour; indeed every night at 8pm sharp we residents all over France faithfully clap from our open windows and balconies in support of front line workers. The French, like the wonderful singing Italians and the other Europeans, have their own strength of character to get through this awful pandemic.

Perhaps it may sound corny to some but to me it gives me faith that even as Britain has gone through a bitter fight over Brexit and our uncertain place in the world I know that when disaster strikes us all with our backs are against the wall we come together. We don’t panic. We just get on with it with little fuss. Keep calm and carry on is more than a meme. If you don’t believe me Captain Tom Moore’s example is one of many people from all walks of life doing what they can to raise money for charity. There are so many people who have taken the creative initiative to do what they can to raise money for the work of our amazing front line workers (doctors and nurses and support staff). Some are doing online challenges - push ups or squats for charity. I know of many veterans who have responded to the call to come back and support the NHS. My eldest brother, a veteran, has been a volunteering with Team Rubicon UK, a military veteran charity, who are now helping to co-ordinate other veteran volunteers to use their skills to support hospitals in the logistics of delivery of medical and food supplies. There are so many mini-Captain Tom Moore’s out there. It’s heart warming.

And so to your question.

Do British military veterans keep their rank after they leave or retire? It’s complicated. There’s no legal reason why they can’t, but the more junior the officer rank, the more gauche and pretentious doing so it is perceived as.

In the old days - according to my grandfather who was a very senior officer in the army - customs were dictated by social class. A commissioned officer such as Lieutenant was considered to be a Gentleman and therefore allowed to use two titles: either ‘Mister’ or ‘Lieutenant’. The rank of Gentleman is considered to be socially superior and so Subalterns (2nd and 1st Lieutenants) were generally referred to as Mr Smith, rather than Lt Smith, even when they are still serving. Once they left the Army these junior officers would drop their socially inferior rank and go with being addressed as ‘Mister’. If an officer became a Captain then he was considered equal in rank to an Esquire and so a Captain was never addressed as ‘Mister’. But using the title Captain after leaving the army was also seen as gauche and so many didn’t - unless others showed them that due deference rather than they insisting upon it.

When we get to the more senior ranks the customs change. Senior field officers like a Major or Colonel were allowed to use their rank after they retired. You quite often found a Maj (Ret’d) Smith, for example, working for a military charity or writing angry letters to the Daily Telegraph or the Times or even more popularly turning up in a Agatha Christie drawing room murder mystery.

When an officer becomes a General officer - from Brigadier (one star general) onwards to Field Marshal - they retain their rank in retirement from the army because they really have earned it.

So all this old school but I think the the rule of thumb used today is that anyone using their rank below the rank of Major is considered bad form.

These days almost no ex-officer retires from the world of work. No one really gives up work and becomes a pensioner, pottering about in the garden or playing golf. Many of course move into a second career, where it simply is not the custom to be addressed by your rank in your new civilian place of work. I suppose an exception might be the private security and defence industry where rank is a signifier of experience and professional competence.

I know I have never used my officer rank in my civilian life as I don’t think it’s socially appropriate nor advantageous to do so in my line of work (no one would frankly care). Of course it comes up in social settings or when I’m entertaining corporate clients but I swat it aside as quickly as it’s raised by downplaying it. I feel genuine embarrassment because even if they are ignorant of this military etiquette faux pas, I am not - and that bothers my conscience.

In the village my parents live there is a retired brigadier and retired general and everyone, including myself, have gone out of our way to address them as such out of respect.

In the building I live here in Paris one of my French neighbours who lives below me is a retired highly decorated army general. I always address him as ‘mon Général’ out of deference.

He has crusty aristocratic manners and can come across as a fussy old fart. He’s a widower and a proud old soldier seasoned in the bloodiest of wars. He’s not easy to warm to but the effort is worthwhile.

I volunteered to get him his food shopping during this pandemic and at first he was too proud to ask but I persisted. And he’s very particular about his food and so I have to trek to particular boutique shops to satisfy his gourmand palate.

He scowled in polite disapproval when I told him I was in the army and saw action as he’s old school and doesn’t believe women should serve on the front line. But gradually I have been winning him over. I sometimes cook for him or he cooks for me and we chat about military history and politics and we play chess regularly (whilst respecting social distance). We have big disagreements about certain battles or military campaigns for instance but he respects that I can hold my ground….until he pulls rank on me when he’s clearly backed into a corner (!) but again out of deference I let him have the last say as I bow down to ‘mon Général’.

It’s interesting to note that Princess Anne’s former husband Captain Mark Phillips was often derided for choosing to use his military rank in civilian life. But I’ve been told by Donkey Walloper** officer friends that cavalry etiquette is unique to their horsemen heritage and so it was common for Cavalry officers to keep their rank into retirement.

Now to get back to Captain Tom Moore. He has never served in the Cavalry regiments because as I understand it he served with the Duke of Wellington’s Regiment and later with the Royal Armoured Corps. So I suspect the newspaper media were ignorant of the existing etiquette and basically mainstreamed his veteran status and labelled him as Captain Tom Moore. No harm no foul as they say. Because in my book after his walking heroics he can call himself whatever he likes. Truth be told I hope he does get knighted because he is deserving of it.

Thanks for your question.

**Donkey Wallopers is the nickname of cavalry regiments.

#ask #question #army rank #title #rank #british army #army #cavalry #personal

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nxtherold · 4 years ago

Text

Some Sidony headcanons:

Full birth name is Zidonia Xiadis, but she’s been called Sidony forever and doesn’t use her real given name or surname unless for official government purposes. She actually doesn’t have a problem with her surname but she rarely sees a reason to use it, and Henrik has encouraged her from a young age to use Sidony as a mononym because of the circumstances surrounding her parents.

“Sid” is okay. She doesn’t give a damn about nicknames tbh.

She’s the bastard daughter of Lord Kossimir Variano and Lady Neomora Xiadis. Kossimir is the son of a baron and is a well-known philanderer in Cumberland and Neomora is Lord Henrik’s younger sister. Their affair spanned three months and was born purely from lust, and Sidony was conceived by accident. Kossimir never wanted anything to do with Sidony, and Neomora had a lot to lose from having a bastard child. She was betrothed to a different noble (a Duke this time) who promised a high sum to her family in exchange for her hand in marriage, which would provide the money needed to pay off the family’s accumulated debts. In order to preserve her betrothal, she hid her pregnancy and gave birth to Sidony in secret a months before the date of the wedding. Sidony was then left in Henrik’s care and remained so for the rest of her life.

Sidony knows who her parents are. She is in contact with her mother. Outwardly she holds no ill will towards her, but she has definitely repressed a bunch of negative emotions about her parentage.

She’s a lesbian.

FC is Marlo Hsieh. I’m going by her tarot and concept art for her appearance rather than what we got in-game because assets were limited and didn’t seem to fit what they had first envisioned for her. Also she just looks so much cooler don’t judge me lmao

Hair is long and curly af. It reaches her hips and is super thick. She washes it well but doesn’t do much else to try and control it; she likes it wild. She does tie the top layer into an updo with decorative hairpins for both the ~aesthetic~ and keeping most of it out of her face.

Body-wise she’s tall but outside of that she’s kind of tiny tbh. Not a lot of muscle or fat in her upper body at all. Most of her weight sits in/near her hips. She’s not very strong physically and doesn’t care to change that since she is not a physical fighter and she can have the dead do tasks for her. She does try to keep in good health for the sake of mobility but other than what’s needed to maintain her current fitness she’s not gonna be doing much training in terms of physicality.

Best magic skills are necromancy (and by extension spirit magic), ice magic, entropy, and force magic.

Uses a staff but is equally adept without one.

Does not use blood magic, but not because she has anything against it from a moral standpoint. She simply does not need blood magic as she already has an expanse of spirits she can call upon without turning to demons, which she views as less worthwhile helpers due to their corrupted natures.

Despite popular belief, she doesn’t actually hate everything, she is just extremely emotionally repressed and doesn’t know how to cope with the feelings she experiences, therefore she tries her best to not experience feelings she isn’t accustomed to.

It may seem like she resents Henrik, and she does resent him to an extent for keeping her so restrained for most of her life, but that dude was basically her father and losing him was her first real heartbreak. She deeply regrets not being able to express to Henrik how thankful she truly was for him before he was killed and hates that their last interaction was her blowing up at him and running away to join the Inquisition, but Henrik knew that she cared and was proud of her anyway. He got in contact with Leliana, who sent reports of Sidony’s accomplishments to him, and he kept every single letter sent to him regarding Sidony in a box in his desk. Sidony finds the box of letters while going through her inheritance from him (since she DID inherit everything from him after his passing) and it gives her closure.

#[sidony ; about]

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littlestsnicket · 5 years ago

Note

⭐

thanks!! (this got out of hand, but I had fun thinking about these things :D)

I’m going to talk about “Promise not to lie, but that doesn’t necessarily mean I’ll tell the truth”

First, this title is ridiculously long, and I clearly remember having one of those, fuck, ao3 will not let me post this without a title moments, but I kind of like it; it works.

Second, I’ve done this a lot less in this fandom (where as like... i think all of my doctor who fic is like this) but the easiest fic for me to write are the ones where I read a fic and think, well that’s not quite right. And I had read a bunch of Violet is a Snicket fic and none of it was quite right. Which is definitely not a slight on the people who wrote it (a lot of it is really good! it just didn’t jive right with my personal understanding of the characters and themes of the series, and well... a lot of it seemed more influenced by netflix than the books), so I went and wrote my own.

Cut because I went through a nearly 2000 word long fic practically paragraph by paragraph.

“What a coincidence, I was about to make myself some tea,” said Violet. Even though this was an entirely plausible statement, Violet was certain it sounded like a bald faced lie, and she was certain by the way Lemony’s eyebrows drew together, that he thought so too, but he took a second mug from the cabinet above the stove, placed it next to his own on the counter, and dropped in a second tea bag. Violet thought she caught him scanning the room for exits, but it might not mean anything—Lemony did that constantly. She sat down at the worn kitchen table.

I like the idea of characters letting each other get away with lies. And I also think it’s important to asoue--there’s a reading of a lot of things that happen with disguises (like when Klaus and Sunny disguise themselves as doctors, and Madame Lulu, and maybe even Olaf disguising himself as Stephano) where I think there is some vfd *thing* where you are trained not to call people out on lies unless you are certain you have more to gain from doing so than you might gain from playing along and seeing what else happens. That’s not terribly related to this fic, but it’s something I was thinking about when I wrote Lemony letting on to Violet that he didn’t really believe she wanted tea, but going along with it anyway (and then Violet doesn’t even drink the tea (but that’s maybe not super clear from the way I wrote it), so Lemony knows at the end... and of course they are both very observant and spend a lot of time watching people both as a matter of personality and circumstance.)

“Thank you for finding us, Mr Snicket, and reuniting our family.”

One of the things I’ve put a lot of thought into is how characters use names/nicknames/titles. It’s something I became very concerned about when I was writing Twin Peaks fic, and I carried it along to this fandom too. And I really liked the idea of Violet using Lemony in her head but still calling him Mr Snicket out loud until they resolve their relationship.

“I couldn’t say no to Beatrice,” he responded without looking at her.

And then Lemony half denying that he’s done anything special or admirable. I tend not to think of Lemony as particularly self hating, although I don’t know if it comes across that way (especially in “platonic equivalent of hate sex” but that’s from Olaf’s pov and he sees Lemony in a certain way that is not necessarily accurate). This has more to do with Lemony not wanting to make moral judgements about himself, or really allow other people to commit to making moral judgements about himself. Which could certainly be read as self hating, but I think has more to do with pragmatism and a result of his world view which is very accommodating of moral grayness (except when it very much is NOT at all--like no one is ever all good in Lemony’s head, but there are certain people that Lemony allows himself to think of as 100% bad even though he intellectually knows otherwise).

but she was nearly twenty six now and the guardian of a child; she understood now that nothing, but especially trying to do right by a child, was ever as straightforward to an adult as it was to a young person.

The idea that Violet should be a properly grown up adult for this conversation was very much a reaction to reading other fic. It’s also the only thing that makes sense with my head canons about the timeline of when things happen/books are published. And this is also a sort of reference to atwq where Lemony has the line about children inevitably becoming adults that I am not going to look up.

“I know you were engaged to my mother,” Violet said.

I’m not sold on this. Violet is Bertrand’s child, and this sounds like more of a Beatrice/Klaus thing to say--it’s so very direct. But (a) given how relatively short I keep my fic, I needed to cut to the chase and (b) this was pretty early in my involvement in fandom. While most of the things I think about Lemony are things I’ve been thinking about since I was, idk, twelve or thirteen (Lemony has ALWAYS been my favorite), I had to flesh out Beatrice, Bertrand, Violet, Klaus, and Sunny a lot to be able to write them.

Then the next bit of dialogue--it was important to me to establish that Violet and Klaus (and Sunny too) had been researching Lemony. And there is a lot of information out there about Lemony. (And maybe the Baudelaire parents have been deliberately keeping their children away from information about Lemony, because the Quagmires are familiar with him in tvv--and the particular way they bring it up makes it seem like general knowledge not something that they discovered researching Olaf.) For one thing, I think the Baudelaire’s (especially Klaus) would research Lemony, but it was also important to me to sort of... balance out the amount of knowledge Lemony has about them.

And then of course, there is the thesis of the fic:

“Violet, I have always believed that genetics are a negligible part of paternity. And somewhat selfishly, if I were to think of myself as a father figure—even in a limited capacity, I would have to admit I was a monstrous failure.”

The idea that Lemony hasn’t already worked through his feelings about having a kid (in the strange capacity that he does) is just ridiculous to me. Like... families of choice is one of the KEY THEMES of the book series he wrote. It’s almost a non-issue. And I think when we see Lemony being completely un-self aware, that’s a deliberate rather than passive act on his part. All that performative grief we see in his narration isn’t something that just happens, it’s something he’s actively doing because he cannot deal with the complexity of his actual feelings. Where as this is something he’s worked through and consciously let himself off the hook for, and can concisely and accurately explain to Violet. Because he’s an adult. And even as a child in atwq, he’s pretty self aware about the things he’s not deliberately lying to himself about.

He placed one mug on the placemat in front of Violet, although the wood of the table top was so scratched and damaged one would never be able to pick out one more ring of water.

This might be my favorite thing I’ve written in this fandom, and it just... the thing about not using coasters being a sign of evil. I will never get over that. it’s so perfect. Because, when it comes down to it, evil is synonymous with carelessness. And giving up on the idea that small acts of care are worthwhile. And how that is so core to who Lemony is as a person and what being a Volunteer actually means.

blue gray like the sea during a storm—the same blue gray eyes she saw when she looked at Beatrice, the same blue gray eyes that looked back at her from the mirror.

(a) I wanted to connect the Snickets to the sea--it seemed important, and (b) I have a random and unfounded head canon that the Snicket siblings don’t look at all alike besides having the exact same color eyes--so that is the “Snicket” trait that Violet has as well.

I already talked about the name thing, so I’m going to skip a head a tiny bit. When I wrote this, it was really important that the fic actually be about something other than Violet being genetically a Snicket--it was the only way to show that it’s really a non issue. So Violet and Lemony talk about the Baudelaire parents and casually refer to them as such without any caveats because that’s the truth.

“Sometimes, it feels like I didn’t know my parents at all. They had so many secrets, so many things they never told us.”

“I am all too familiar with that feeling. I knew your parents quite well; I would like to help if I can.”

And this is Lemony breaking one of the many negative cycles of vfd involvement. And, despite their genetic relation, Lemony is going to interact with Violet primarily as a friend of her parents, and a someone who fundamentally understands what she is going through in loosing ones parents especially in situation of not really knowing what they were thinking.

I’m going to skip ahead to the sugar bowl bit because the discussion about moral ambiguity and what the Baudelaire parents would have wanted pretty much is what it is. Lemony is able to give Violet closure that I think she really needed. It’s nice. It’s what I want for her. I think it’s something Lemony knows Jacques didn’t have and needed as the eldest sibling.

Yeah... there is nothing in the sugar bowl. I am sorry. Those are the facts. It’s also something Lemony is not comfortable telling Violet. He wants to prepare her for disappointment, but she doesn’t have the context to really get it yet. Even though Lemony hints at it earlier (”they would be proud to have raised children who were brave and resourceful enough to barter the location of the sugar bowl for their sister’s safety”). That the Baudelaire’s instinctively understood the real value of the sugar bowl. Also, I was already planning what ended up becoming “To share a kitchen” at this point. The original draft was primarily focused on Sunny figuring out what was in the sugar bowl, and that being something that Lemony wasn’t comfortable telling anyone because it’s something that one has to figure out for ones self. But that ended up being kind of tangential to that story in the end.

Violet was silent and perfectly still, puzzling over all of this not terribly helpful information, as Lemony finished his tea.

Call back to Lemony saying “he was so still and quiet when he was thinking through a puzzle”. Because Violet is Bertrand’s daughter.

“Thank you, at least, for not telling me it is too dangerous for me to know.”

“My track record is far from perfect, but I do make a sincere attempt to keep my word.”

This is a direct refute of Widdershins saying that it’s too dangerous for young people to know what is in the sugar bowl. That was very deliberate. Lemony and Widdershins have some shit to work out. I don’t know that they ever get the chance. (I tend to think Widdershins doesn’t know what is in the sugar bowl. And that is a beginning of the rift between them; they seem close in atwq and Lemony seems so casually disdainful of him by the time he is writing tgg.)

And then the last paragraph is just... Lemony is not and never is going to play the role of a father figure for Violet, but they are a FAMILY in the way that matters--they’re comforted by each other’s presence and the small noises they make when going about their normal habits.

And that is that!

#ask meme #tangentially #mayo talks about writing #this seems like the work of an insane person #but i own it

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krsnlove · 5 years ago

Text

Too Close

Chapter 5

A/N: I know. It’s been awhile. The struggle to find time AND to actually have something worthwhile to write has been ridiculous. But I’m pretty proud of this chapter. 🙊

Tagging: @alj4890 @lodberg @thecordoniandiaries @penguininapinktuxedo @cora-nova @sirbeepsalot @rafasgirl23415 @vickypoochoices @carabeth

CURRENT

“Must you be so loud!?,” Olivia’s aggravated voice frightens the staff member who quickly mumbled an apology before turning off the vacuum.

Despite the hangover she woke up to, Olivia looked every part of the Duchess of Lythikos that morning. Her fire-red hair was immaculately pulled back into a slick bun with a white button up blouse, black slacks and a pair of red stilettos completed her look.

“Will you let her know I’m here...please,” she forcefully added the last word. She eyed the staff member scurrying away from her to fetch the woman responsible for her presence in another Nevrakis home.

Olivia’s patience is non-existent when waiting on others but today is different, even with a hangover. After ending whatever it was she and Drake had, her life felt like hers again. Not one of the inane woman she was a few weeks ago lurking in undisclosed locations around Cordonia.

It worked out well since she was summoned by her Aunt today. The only human being in the world who had the power to reduce her to the weak, abandoned young girl she once was.

Olivia couldn’t--wouldn’t show Lucretia how much these visits affected her.

“Honestly Olivia do you bathe in that stuff?,” a condescending voice from behind her echoed into the vast foyer of the home. Olivia’s back stiffened at the sound of her Aunt’s grating voice.

Standing at the bottom of the staircase was her Aunt Lucretia, glaring in her direction.

Olivia sighed, already feeling her energy being drained at a simple conversation with her only relative.

“Bathe in what?”

“In that musty bottle you call perfume. My nose feels like it might fall off soon!,” Lucretia held a hand over her nose as she waved in a frenzy with the other, attempting to clear the air around her.

“Change my perfume. Thank you Aunt Lucretia for bringing me all the way here to tell me that,” Olivia moves toward the front door more than ready to take her leave. “Let me know when you’re in the country again. We’ll have to do this again what, next year?”

“You foolish girl. Despite your overwhelming scent, I didn’t invite you here today to discuss your hygiene practices.”

Olivia can’t help the annoyance that comes to her as she reluctantly turned to face her Aunt. So close, she tells herself. A few more steps and she could have been outside, away from her.

“Well?,” Olivia asked flatly. “Get on with it already.”

“I forget how ill-mannered you have become,” Lucretia said with a hint of disgust. “It’s bad enough you’ve begun to associate yourself with that commoner from New York…”.

Olivia began to walk towards the sitting room, letting the words of her Aunt’s rant stay behind her. A skill she developed early on as a child when she would lecture for hours.

“...and the fact that you are on the Council with them,” she continued. No doubt, Olivia thought with an eye-roll, she was now referring to the Beaumont brother and Hana Lee.

She bit her tongue and attempted to humor her Aunt.

“It’s a tragedy isn’t it?,” Olivia sat on the edge of the leather chaise placed by the window. At least she had the option of jumping out of it, she thought desperately.

“Your sarcasm has certainly reared its ugly head frequently nowadays,” Lucretia said. The coy smile playing on her lips set Olivia on edge, causing her to become silent.

“I thought so,” Lucretia told her. “Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, there is a matter at hand I need to discuss with you.”

Olivia scoffed but still remained quiet.

“Since your previous engagement was,” Lucretia paused for a moment, “...unfortunate.”

“He conspired to take the throne away from Liam and then kidnapped me.”

“Yes as I mentioned, unfortunate.”

“Unbelievable,” Olivia muttered.

She despised how little her Aunt cared for her but was more disgusted by her own actions. Olivia shouldn’t care to keep up with this toxic relationship but here she was, enduring yet another visit from her only living relative.

“Be that as it may,” Lucretia continued, “I’ve acquired someone else in place for your fiancé.”

Olivia’s mouth dropped as her Aunt looked pleased with herself at the announcement.

“You can’t be serious right now.”

“I can’t recall a time where I wasn’t,” said Lucretia. She summoned the butler and ordered tea, ignoring her niece fiercely shaking her head in disagreement.

“No. No.” Olivia felt the intensity behind her words, almost screaming them in rage. “I am not doing this again.”

“There is no need to make a scene,” Lucretia said as she sipped her tea.

“Don’t you dare tell me what to do. Not after what you put me through with Anton!”

Lucretia put her cup of tea down before addressing her niece.

“I,” she emphasized, “did nothing. I simply followed through on the wishes of your parents. They are the ones who signed your life away to a demented man drunk with power.”

Olivia could feel her breaths begin to come in quick and short.

Not here. Not in front of her, she silently pleaded. Olivia closed her eyes in an attempt to immobilize the weakness within her.

“I see those...ahem, debilitating moments you had as a child has carried into adulthood. I’d have hoped you would outgrow those eventually.”

Olivia’s mind was elsewhere but Lucretia’s words were crushing as the image of her beloved Lythikos, the snow covered grounds of her duchy that brought her some sort of solace during a panic attack, began to fade away.

Her mind seemed to race with random images flashing through her mind in an attempt to focus on something...anything.

“I can’t...No,” Olivia bit the words out.

“Don’t worry, dear. I took extra precaution and vetted this gentleman myself. I do believe he’ll make an excellent addition to the Nevrakis name.”

“That’s what you assured me about Anton,” Olivia’s voice was just above a whisper.

“If you clean the wax out of your ears I have already addressed that being your parents doing. You can trust me Livy.”

Olivia’s head dropped at Lucretia’s use of her childhood nickname that signaled the end of the discussion. She took in a deep breath allowing herself to slowly exhale, grateful that it was bringing some sort of serenity to this hell of a conversation.

“Would you like to meet him?,” Lucretia’s question causes Olivia to jerk her head up to attention.

“No I would not like to meet him!,” she stood and began to make her way out of the room. “I can’t be here right now. I need to leave. I just--,” Olivia didn’t care to finish her sentence as she approached the closed doors.

Before she has the chance to make her escape from Lucretia, the double doors suddenly open up stopping Olivia in her tracks.

A tall man dressed in a crisp old navy colored suit stood before her. With a hand in one pocket and a roguish grin playing on his lips, she watches as his eyes swept over her body.

“Drake?,” she whispered.

#the royal romance #trr #fanfiction #choices trr #drake x olivia #olivia nevrakis #lucretia #aunt lucretia

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gabrielxreader · 7 years ago

Text

Flattery Gets You Everywhere

Request: Hi there! I’ve seen requests were opened, so if I’m not late. I wanted to ask if you could do Gabriel x reader, where reader meets the archangel for the first time and is totally fangirling (if not drooling) over him. And right away, he appreciates her strange behavior and asks her out

Author: Holly

Warnings: None, I don’t think

Characters: Y/N, Gabriel, Dean, Castiel, Sam

Word Count: 1,314

Y/N = Your Name

“Is this necessary?” You asked with a grimace, flicking your hands to get the splashes of oil off. “Why can’t Cas just, you know, do his diplomacy thing?”

“Cas? Diplomacy?” Dean snorted and capped the gallon of holy oil, then shoved it back into his car’s trunk. “Look, we’re summoning a douche. I want to make sure he’s trapped under threat of angel barbeque before he can do any douchey things.”

“… So what you’re saying is you’ve tried to kill him before and he’s understandably sour about it,” you interpreted. In your experience, angels are usually jerks, but not without being prompted. The angels that allied with you for the sake of humans and Team Free Will weren’t likely to do any harm.

“No,” Dean started to say.

Castiel tipped his head at Dean. “Haven’t you stabbed him through the heart twice?”

“At least,” Dean coughed, somewhat proud. “He had it coming.”

You shook your head. Dean may have no respect for angels, but you do. You have to. Your family had been religious and you carried those values. Since you were thrusted into a life of hunting, you’d learned that angels, unfortunately, aren’t all they’re cracked up to be; but some of them, like Cas and Hannah and Balthazar, do deserve respect. Their power is awesome, regardless of what it’s used for, and they were created by God to serve a purpose. Angels deserved at least a level of respect to start with. You reserve your right to lose that respect, but only if they turn out to be like Zachariah.

“Let’s just get it over with,” Sam huffed, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms defensively. Apparently the angel they wanted to summon had a bit of a history with the Winchesters, although they assured you that he wouldn’t take it out on you. According to the younger brother, this ally had a very strong sense of karma, so you were comforted by the knowledge that you wouldn’t be screwed over by the brother’s violent tendencies.

Dean clapped his hands together and rubbed his palms, then cleared his throat. Loudly, he started to pray. “Gabriel, who art runneth his ass anywhere but Heaven,” he said, mocking the old English style of scripture.

You snapped your head around to Cas. “Gabriel? That’s who we’re summoning, the archangel?” You could barely believe it – sure, it had occurred to you that he was real, but… oh, wow, oh, wow…

Between one blink and the next, there was a fifth person standing amongst your small party. He snapped his fingers, irately interrupting Dean. “Alrighty then, bucko, I’ve heard enough.”

You stared. You couldn’t help it – this was Gabriel, an archangel, an archangel who wasn’t a total asshole hell-bent on destroying the world. Michael and Raphael had been angels you looked up to, and they had been such disappointments. When you asked about Gabriel, Raphael had told you he was dead. Now you realized he must’ve just been presumed dead. He was a blond, which you supposed matched up with the stained-glass representations you were familiar with, but that was about all. There was no sash, no archaic horn, and no long, curling locks of hair. His blond was dark and almost brown, he had on very modern jeans, and a canvas jacket which looked well-worn and slightly big for him. What you really liked, though, were the eyes – no human you ever knew had eyes that close to the color of molten gold.

Dean scowled at Gabriel with familiarity. You were just shocked silent. “You’re supposed to be there,” he griped, pointing emphatically into the circle of holy oil. Without it being on fire, it just glistened on the ground.

“I’ve fallen for that one already, Dean-o,” Gabriel scoffed, looking insulted. “I know you two run around making the same mistakes a hundred times in a row,” he said, sending a sidelong glare at Sam. Sam’s expression became stonier – there was a meaning there that you didn’t understand. “But some of us try to rub our brain cells together a little more vigorously.”

Gabriel looked around at his summoners with narrowed eyes. His expression lightened only a touch when he saw Cas and nodded to him. “Cassie.” Castiel’s lips tightened slightly but he didn’t audibly object to the nickname. Gabriel’s eyes settled on you a second later and you felt awash in uncertainty and awe. The archangels were the most responsible, most powerful, and most awesome, in the original sense of the word. And you had one surveying you, unsure what exactly to make of you, your little human self. “You picked up another stray?”

“I’m Y/N,” you introduced yourself quickly, shoving some loose hair back behind your ear. Part of you wanted to shake hands but the stronger part was rooted to the spot, inspired and a little bit intimidated. “You’re… wow. Oh, wow,” you just said your broken-record thought process out loud, then blushed a little bit.

Gabriel smirked at you. It was confident, not totally sincere, but it was also friendly and lacked any offensiveness. “Now you can have permission to say my name.” He winked at you and you felt a little lightheaded. The Archangel Gabriel is flirting with you.

“You –“ You spluttered and knew you were embarrassing yourself. Sam looked sympathetically embarrassed and Dean muttered an ‘oh, jeez.’ “You told Mary – and-“

“I did,” he said thoughtfully, turning reminiscent. “She was such a lovely girl, too. Real pity about the whole unplanned pregnancy thing. Joseph didn’t believe her at first and almost left. Not that they had fantastic sex ed at the time, but even they could put two and two together. Well.” The smirk playing over his lips became more mischievous. “At least, they could put a-“

“Gabriel,” Castiel snapped, a little mortified.

You didn’t care about how vulgar things almost got. You were just so pleased to be speaking with him, and so impressed. You felt honored to be hearing firsthand about how the Virgin Mary received her enlightenment.

Gabriel sauntered over to you slowly, gracefully skirting the ring of holy oil so he didn’t get locked inside it. Dean quietly complained and chucked the lit match he’d been holding behind his back off into the grass and stomped on it to put out the flame. The angel peered at you intently and you felt like your entire soul had been bared; you held your breath.

“It’s been a long time since I actually met a fan,” he said conversationally, hands behind his back, standing there with poise and ease. “My social calls are usually more for attempted murder and revenge. This is a change.”

You had to remind yourself to breathe evenly. “Um, thank you for coming,” you said, remembering your manners and nearly kicking yourself. “We’re sorry to bother you-“

“Am not!” Dean indignantly called.

Gabriel waved Dean off. “Don’t worry about it, sugar,” he said, “Meeting you makes the trip worthwhile.” Your eyes widened and your blush deepened. If your face got any redder, you were going to pass out. “Though it’d be better if Thing One and Thing Two and Thing Three weren’t all eavesdropping. Why don’t we take it somewhere just us?”

You gaped at him, and, forcing your body to catch up with your screaming brain, you nodded fervently. Having his interest was an incredible compliment, and being alone with him, getting the chance to know this being and to pick his brain a little-

“Yes!”

Gabriel smiled at you, his demeanor losing its intensity. He turned so he was standing beside you and put his arm around your shoulders, which gave you an immediate, tiny thrill of static. “You bozos have a good time twiddling your thumbs. Me and Y/N are gonna go have some fun and maybe talk some shop.” He winked. “I’ll bring ‘em back in one piece.”

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ciarawritesmarvel · 7 years ago

Text

First Year [Teacher!AU] - One

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: Language, fluff, vague sexual references but I mean very vague

A/N: Here’s the first chapter! Full of fluff and perhaps not much substance but hang in there, I just wanted to reintroduce the relationship and the characters. I toyed with making the rest of the Avengers teachers but eventually decided to go down a slightly different route and make them students instead. Please let me know what you think of this, I beg of you! <3

FIRST YEAR MASTERLIST // MASTERLIST

September

“Are you sure about this, Buck?” you asked, taking another spoonful of cereal but just holding it on the spoon, too deep in thought to actually eat it, “I mean, there must be some rule about teachers not dating each other?”

“I’ve spent two months trawling through codes of conduct and I promise you, there isn’t one. We’re not doing anything wrong,” he smiled at you, so genuine it made your heart hurt but still, you couldn’t help but worry.

“But what if-” he cut you off by leaning over the table and grabbing your hand, lifting the spoon to your lips and making you eat the cereal.

“Shut up and eat your food, Miss Y/L/N.”

You rolled your eyes at him but still did as you were told, knowing that he was right and that you didn’t have anything to stress about. He really had looked all over for any possible rules you two were breaking but there didn’t seem to be any. Once you’d finished your mouthful, you smirked at him.

“Save that little nickname for school-” you insisted, then placed two hands on the table and leaned over it so that you could whisper in his ear, “-and the bedroom.”

You sat back down and continued eating as if nothing had just happened, but you could feel his gaze locked on to you and see his slightly open mouth out of the corner of your eye. You fought back your laugh.

“How could you do that to me on the day we go back? How am I supposed to cope with having to call you that all year?”

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out,” you smiled, getting up to put your bowl in the dishwasher but you kissed his cheek on the way past, “Mr Barnes.”

You could have sworn you heard him groan.

***

“What have you got first, anyway?” you asked Bucky as you walked side by side through the hallways towards your shared office. Well, he was walking and you were practically waddling. You were pretty envious of the fact that he seemed to be able to fit all his neatly organised folders in one single briefcase and you still had this bloody box full of loose paper and lesson plans. He’d offered to organise things for you over the summer and had just offered to carry the box but there was no way you’d let him do any of that; it would have been like admitting defeat.

“Russian with the new Year 10s. I think there’s 8 of them?”

“That’s an amazing turn out!” you exclaimed happily. Teaching Russian at the school had always been a dream of Bucky’s as he’d told you four years ago but he’d only made that dream a reality this year. He had to convince at least 5 students to choose it for the school to let him teach it and he’d finally managed it, “I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you, doll,” he smiled, eyes sparkling and it still made you weak at the knees every time, however annoying that might have been. You grinned back, desperate to stop walking and kiss him, just quickly, just to remind yourself that you could. But you couldn’t, not when there were so many kids passing you with cheerful smiles and hellos that you’re all too happy to return. Later, you remind yourself, you’ll be able to kiss him as much as you want.

He certainly wouldn’t complain.

“Morning Mr Barnes!” Steve Rogers walked past, flashing a hearty smile at his favourite teacher and completely ignoring your presence. You pressed your lips together to hide your amusement.

“Welcome back, Steve! I’ll see you in Russian?” Bucky asked him and he nodded before hurrying off and you turned your head to watch him scurry away.

“That boy dotes on you,” you shook your head, a light chuckle escaping your lips and you were sure Bucky puffed up his chest just slightly.

“And rightly so.”

You rounded the corner to your office just as you were laughing at him and he opened the door and gestured for you to go first.

“Always the gentleman, aren’t you?” you teased, but you joined his antics nonetheless with an awkward curtsy that made him snort before you walked into the office and dropped the box down on your desk with a thump.

“I like to think so,” he winked at you and your heart rate sped up of its own accord. Things like that were only supposed to happen when you had a crush on someone, you reasoned with yourself, not when you’d been in a relationship for a couple months.

Bucky was surpassing expectations.

You’d had one of the best summer holidays of your life with him, holidays as a teacher and student included. It wasn’t as if you’d done anything crazy or gone anywhere special. Just days of lying on your backs in his garden, looking up at the sky, wanting to make shapes out of clouds that weren’t there. Days of staying in and watching TV despite the wonderful weather outside. Days of walks along the nearby canal, Bucky picking you up and pretending to throw you in. That day when he did throw you in, by accident of course.

On second thought, perhaps that wasn’t the best moment.

And yet still, each grin made your heart flutter, each wink turned your legs to jelly, each kiss just made you melt. And from the look he was giving you now, that look that you’d caught him with too many times to count, you couldn’t help but hope it was the same for him.

“Earth to Y/N?” he waved his hand in front of your face and you blinked out of your daydream, seeing him sitting on your desk in front of you, “Whatcha thinkin’ bout?”

“Summer,” you bit your lip, feeling a little niggle of frustration at the back of your mind at how nervous you still got around your colleague, “And how perfect it was.”

“It was pretty perfect, wasn’t it?” he agreed, reaching out for your hips and pulling you to stand between his legs, your hands instinctively falling to his thighs for balance.

“Bucky…” you warned, using your leverage on his thighs to push yourself from his grasp, but he held firm. You turned and checked nobody was watching you through the glass door, but just because there wasn’t now, didn’t mean there wouldn’t be any second, “Not here.”

“Come on, no one’s around. One kiss?”

“No!”

“Just one tiny kiss?”

“Get your hands off me, Mr Barnes,” you laughed, swatting away his hands on your waist and he finally obliged, though he looked like a sad puppy with those eyes that often made you cave in. Not this time.

“I never asked you, what do you have first?” he changed the subject deftly as he hopped down from your desk and rounded it to sit down at his own.

“Spanish with the Year 7s, bless them, they’re always so scared on their first-” you didn’t get the chance to finish your sentence as the bell signalled the beginning. A new day, a new term, a new year.

“If anyone can put them at ease, it’s you,” he assured you and you could feel the heat creeping up the back of your neck, “Knock em dead, doll.”

“I think that’s the opposite of what I’m trying to do, idiot.”

“Oh, cállate,” he muttered, shooing you out of the office and you grinned at him, picking up your box making your way out of the office and towards your first class, which was only a couple of classrooms down the hallway.

Once inside the room, you carefully placed the box down underneath the desk and got out everything you’d need for the lesson, arranging it in almost-neat lines on the desk. Grabbing a pen and uncapping it with your teeth, you wrote your name in large print in the middle of the whiteboard, glancing at the door and smiling at the line of tiny students that was slowly growing outside.

As soon as you were sure everything was as ready as it possibly could be, you walked over to the door and opened it with a flourish, a genuine smile painting your entire face as you glanced over the kids.

“Hello everyone, come on in, sit where you like guys,” you chimed, standing with your back against the door as they filed in, keeping the smile plastered to your face. You saw mostly scared expressions, but the few shy smiles you received in return for yours made it all worthwhile. As you were about to close the door, you saw Bucky in the classroom across from yours, closing his own door and your eyes met across the corridor.

Bucky mouthed ‘buena suerte’ at you with a smirk and you mouthed ‘удачи’ back. His eyebrows shot up at your unexpected knowledge of Russian. You didn’t speak the language, but you loved it when he did and had secretly learned just a few phrases that you thought might come in useful. With a wink, you closed the door and turned to your class.

“Okay, hola everyone! I promise there’s no need to look so nervous, soy muy simpatica!” you smiled warmly but were met with a sea of confused faces, “Anyone know what that means?”

Silence. Hands stayed firmly by their sides.

“It means ‘I’m a witch!’” you joked and finally saw a few stifled giggles. You’d never get away with such humour with your Year 11s but these were Year 7s and you could get away with a bit of plain old silliness, “I’m kidding, it means ‘I am very nice’ but we’ll get to that later. Today, we have a bit of admin to do and some names to learn!”

You rubbed your hands together before starting to get the exercise books out of the drawer and plonked them down on your desk. As you were getting therm out, you could hear the first murmurs of chatter spreading throughout the room and smirked. At least the terrified silence stage was over.

“Whilst I could get one of you to hand these out for me,” you began, leaning on the books with one hand holding your chin up in a well-rehearsed and perhaps even perfected act, “I think it would be far more fun if I threw these at you, don’t you?”

A few more stifled giggles this time and you grinned at them, picking up a wad of books with one arm and using the other to start flinging the books at the students. Well, not really at the students, just at the desks and at an extremely controlled pace in a practiced pattern. It wasn’t as if you really were a witch, after all.

This time, the class was properly laughing, a few kids nudging others and the ones you could already tell were quieter just simply smiled to themselves. You silently congratulated yourself on easing the minds of these children, despite the fact that you’d done it so many times before: each class was a challenge in its own right.

“Who wants to play a game?”

This time, all hands in the room were up instantaneously. You’d be winning this lot over in no time.

***

When the lunch bell rang out and you dismissed your fourth class of the day, you sank into your chair with a loud sigh. Mondays this year were definitely going to be a struggle. With classes every single period until lunchtime, you had your work cut out for you staying energised and upbeat. You managed it, of course, but it was hard. All you wanted was some bloody food.

That was, if you could find the energy to stand up.

Just as you were thinking it, your phone beeped in your pocket and you cursed, thanking whatever god might be listening for not letting it ring during your classes. Without the need to unlock it, you saw Bucky’s text on your lockscreen.

Want me to bring you fish and chips? I’m front of the queue ;)

Briefly considering the fact that your boyfriend might actually be a mind reader, you quickly typed out your reply, putting your head down on the desk immediately afterwards to get just a few minutes of rest before he arrived.

Best. Boyfriend. Ever.

All too soon there was a soft knock at the door and you smiled in spite of yourself.

“It’s me,” came the harsh whisper and you groaned as you lifted your head from the desk, stretching out your neck as you saw his face peering in through the glass in the door and beckoned him in, “Sleeping, are we?”

“Sneaking food out of the canteen, are we?”

“Touché.”

He pulled a chair up to your desk, even though it was far too small for him and sat down, chest pressed against the back of the chair and legs poking out of either side. You bit your cheek to prevent the bubble of laughter from escaping at his positioning but forgot all about that when he presented you with fresh fish and chips in a paper bag. You took it eagerly and began eating before he had time to blink.

“Tha-” you swallowed your bite and made to take another, “Thank you.”

“No worries,” the hint of amusement in his tone went unnoticed by you as you continued eating, as did his random glances in your direction, fondness laced within his gaze. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get enough of staring at you, even with the funny feeling it stirred in his stomach.

You spent the remainder of the lunchtime telling each other stories from your surprisingly eventful day so far, laughing when he told you about the amount of holiday homework Steve had done for him and you explained that he hadn’t even done yours. Shaking your heads in sync at Clint Barton’s blatant refusal to listen to instructions and marvelling at Tony Stark’s new invention to help him do his homework that he had been far too open about.

“-seriously, I swear I have never seen someone leave a class as fast as that Maximoff!”

“I know! It’s as if he-”

You were interrupted by a knock on the door, though it wasn’t nearly as soft and inviting as Bucky’s had been forty-five minutes earlier. Nevertheless, with a quick glance at each other, you called for them to come in, smiling when you saw that it was just Miss Hill.

“Maria, how can we help?” you asked, brushing the salt from your hands.

“I wondered if it was your car blocking mine in the car park? I’m taking some kids to this stupid maths challenge thing this afternoon so I need to get out.”

“Oh no, it’s not mine sorry,” you said quickly and you saw the confused blink at your rapid answer.

“But it looks exactly like yours?”

“It can’t be hers, I’m afraid, Miss Hill, I drove her in today,” Bucky spoke up, smiling over at you but you just looked panicked. Maria’s demeanor changed instantly and she suddenly lost her look of hurry and had all the time in the world. A smirk made its way onto her features.

“Oh, you did, did you, Mr Barnes?” her tone was dripping in intrigue and you felt the blush on your cheeks before they saw it, “And why was that?”

She was directing her question at you. She’d known about your crush on him for almost as long as you’d had it, so it was only natural for her to be asking questions now, you supposed, however awkward it made you feel. Before you knew it, you had opened your mouth and were speaking.

“My car broke down,” you blurted out and Bucky raised one eyebrow at you, “It happened yesterday so I called old Mr Barnes here and he helped me out. I owe him one really.”

Your voice was so shaky you wanted to scream and you wondered when exactly you’d become such a terrible liar. Bucky was giving a look that bordered on offended but was mostly just amusement. Maria, on the other hand, was radiating pure smugness.

“Right…” she drew out the word for far too long and you stood up from the desk before she could say anything else.

“If that’s all, I better go prepare for this afternoon, I’ll see you both later!” you smiled, or at least hoped you did, though you were pretty sure it probably looked more like a grimace. You hurried out of the room before they could question you any further and rushed to the office, closing the door behind you and leaning against it, letting out a puff of air.

Only seconds later, you were propelled forwards and had to fight to keep your balance as Bucky opened the door. One hand on your chest to steady yourself, you turned to him with a glare.

“What the hell was that?”

‘What?” you tried, scratching the back of your head and pretending not to see the look Bucky was giving you. But it seemed he wasn’t going to give up, “Honestly? I don’t know! I just panicked, Buck, I’m sorry, please don’t think that it’s anything to do with you, it isn’t, it’s hardly that I’m embarrassed of you, I mean look at you but I just-”

“Y/N-”

“I don’t think I want to tell people yet!” you exclaimed, far too loudly for the situation at hand and you watched Bucky blinked a few times. Inwardly, you were screaming at yourself, knowing that he could take that the wrong way, that he could think you weren’t really in this. Outwardly, you were stiff and still.

“Y/N,” he began, and his eyes were serious even though they were hardly ever serious with you, “We don’t have to tell anyone yet. I’m not sure I’m ready to face Nick’s teasing anyway.”

His last sentence was said with a cheeky grin but your hands were wrapped tightly within his and you knew then that he understood. This was still new and still fresh and still yours. You wanted it to stay yours for just a little longer.

The bell put a stop to whatever you wanted to say next and you smiled apologetically as you squeezed his hands once.

“I’ve got Year 11s now, but I’ll see you later?”

“Seeing as I’m your ride home, I’m sure you will,” he mocked and you rolled your eyes, which seemed to be becoming a habit.

“Мудак,” you muttered, leaning forward to kiss his forehead quickly, once you’d checked over his shoulder for anyone outside. He gaped at you yet again.

“I swear, I have never heard anything as hot as you speaking Russian,” he murmured and you copied his signature eyebrow waggle as you walked away, only letting your hands drop from his once you were out of the door.

You could hardly wipe the grin from your face as you walked into your class of Year 11s, all sat in their seats and awaiting you eagerly. You’d been taking this class for French for three years and knew them almost as well as if they were your own.

“Missss!!” they chimed as you walked in and you chuckled fondly, grinning at them all.

“It’s so good to see you all, how are you doing? How were your summers?”

“Oh my god!”

“You were so right, Nat, I owe you, it’s written all over her face!”

“Steve said it too, wow, just look at that grin!”

“What are you all harping on about?” you asked, hands on your hips in a faux warning, but the class just dissolved into giggles, a certain Barton practically snorting in the corner as Romanoff tried to calm him down, “Guys!”

“We all know you and Mr Barnes are together, Miss,” Wanda spoke up, despite the fact that Vision was trying to cover her mouth and stop her. Your eyes widened briefly but then you managed to control your expression.

“Whaaaat…”

“You can’t fool us, Miss!” Thor shouted.

“Nat saw you guys in your office!”

“Shut up, Peter!” Nat hissed but you were already on your way over to her.

“Is this true Natasha?” you asked, ignoring her scoff at your use of her full name, “You shouldn’t be spying on people. And anyway, I checked and nobody was there!”

You were whining by the time you finished speaking and Nat stood up and placed both her hands on your shoulders.

“Miss, if I don’t want you to know I’m there, you won’t,” Nat admitted and you sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose, “Why wouldn’t you tell us anyway? We’ve been shipping you two since you first started!”

“I know, I know, but...I just don’t want the teachers to know yet okay. Can you all promise me not to tell them?”

“Only if you spend the first five minutes of this lesson telling us everything!”

You looked at the sea of expectant faces and sighed yet again, walking over to sit down at your desk. You held your head up with both hands under your chin.

“Five minutes, no more.”

They were crowded around you in an instant and you smiled at their barrage of questions. As their teacher, there were very few you could answer and as a rather proud woman, there were very few that you wanted to.

But having some of the best kids you’d ever taught be almost as excited as you were about you and Mr Barnes? It felt pretty damn good.

***

if crossed out, i couldn’t tag you for some reason - sorry! tag lists are open so please just drop me an ask ^-^

permanent tags: @mightyhemsworthy @aheadfullofsherlock @ign-is @buckysboobear @bibibucky @thefridgeismybestie @avengersbabe13 @mixedupsammy @memyselfandmaddox @ginger-rxchxo @stephie-senpai @hottrashformarvel @queenoftrash97 @buckysmetalgoddamnarm @yknott81 @mell-bell @dolphinpink310 @sgtjbuccky @dreamerinfinity @selenasoftly @spiderlingss @slightlycatdependent @shamelessbookaddict @vintagepigeon @bodhi-black @realgreglestrade @demoncrypt1066 @skeltn @bucky-at-bedtime @hanscait @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun @milkywaybarnes @scurtscurt2021 @jitterbuck @slowly-but-shurley @jaamesbbarnes @yesdruidess @dixonsbugaboo @lortise @whiskeybucky @n-lafayette @theassetseyeliner @mylovelymarvel @horrsegal

bucky: @residentdemonhunter @theglowstickofdestiny

first year: @feelmyroarrrr @donner5822 @cassifrassidy96 @lilith-snappinnecks-demon @dontpanc @olivespock @propertyofpoeandbucky @ican-do-this-all-day @paintballkid711 @buckysothiccbarnes @futuremrsb-r-main @significantlysirius @bornfortherainydays @stevieboyharrington @classicswolf @just-add-butter @moni-poloni @srhls @directionerfae @clevertheoristpainter @wisestydia-15

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky imagine #bucky barnes series #bucky series #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #first year

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