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capseycartwright · 3 years ago

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40 + buddie? ❤️

“That Christmas sweater is atrocious,” Buck commented, gaze lingering on the truly disgustingly tacky sweater Eddie had pulled from the depths of his wardrobe, the front a sparkly - definitely shedding, given the amount of the glitter pooling around Eddie’s feet - Christmas tree, bells attached to the wool of the sweater, Eddie jingling with every breath. It was absolutely horrendous, and tacky, and the grin on Eddie’s face was utterly delighted.

Eddie, Buck had long since realised, loved Christmas - and loved Christmas in a big way. Christopher’s manic delight for the festive season came directly from his father, Eddie itching to bring his decorations down from the moment November rolled around. The day after Thanksgiving - provided they weren’t working - Eddie was in his attic, bringing down boxes, and boxes worth of decorations, his house looking like Santa Clause's California getaway for a very glittery six weeks. Eddie always got a real tree, unlike Buck’s artificial one that was dragged out from storage at the beginning of December, and the choosing of the tree was a real process. Buck had been witness to it once, and after an hour of watching Eddie and Christopher seriously deliberate over the merits of a six foot, verus a six and a half foot tall tree, Buck swore he’d never tag along on the tree choosing trip ever again.

Eddie loved Christmas, was the point. From Thanksgiving, to the New Year (“January 6,” Eddie explained. “You leave your decorations up until January 6, because that’s when the three Kings come to visit Jesus.”) Eddie’s house was an ode to Christmas. The woody candle that normally sat on Eddie’s coffee table was replaced with a spicy, cinnamon scented red one, Eddie happily lighting it every night after Christopher went to bed, red tartan blanket pooled around his ankles as he and Buck would indulge in some cheesy Christmas films and boozy hot chocolate.

Buck never loved the festive season, until he met Eddie Diaz. Maddie had always tried her best, growing up, but she was a teenager with limited resources and their parents had never wanted to mark the occasion. Eddie, though - he made Christmas seem like it was a truly magical time of the year, and it was infectious, the joy Eddie felt during those few weeks of candy cane coloured madness contagious. It was strange, to develop a love for Christmas with your thirties looming ahead of you, but Buck was slowly getting there - with the Diazes help, of course.

Eddie grinned. “It’s an ugly Christmas sweater party, Buck,” he reminded, as though Buck could forget that the theme for Hen and Karen’s Christmas drinks this year was tacky Christmas sweaters. It was a festive party they only ever threw the years the 118 was scheduled on, for Christmas, Hen and Karen wanting to celebrate in a big way on those rare days off leading up to the day itself, and it always had a theme - Buck’s first year with the 118, they had thrown a Grinch themed party (Denny had been a little obsessed, that year) and another year, it had been a Home Alone themed party.

This year, the theme was tacky Christmas sweaters, and Buck had braved the insanity that was Target, during Christmas week, to find something that could be considered a tacky Christmas sweater. It was a simple one, but Buck had left it a little late to find anything particularly tacky, and he’d been stuck with the last one in his size, a green sweater with a gingerbread man on the front, his arm snapped clean off and ‘oh snap!’ emblazoned across the front in red, glittery writing.

“I know,” Buck hummed.

“Then why are you wearing the world’s most boring sweater?” Eddie poked, pulling a face as he surveyed Buck’s sweater.

“Because it was the only one left in my size in Target, you judgmental asshole,” Buck replied. “Am I not being tacky enough for you?”

“That sweater wishes it was tacky,” Eddie shook his head. “Wait here, just a second.”

Buck didn’t argue, leaning against the kitchen counter as he waited for Eddie to return. It only took a minute, before his best friend was back, neatly wrapped package in hand. “What’s this?” Buck inquired, as Eddie held the gift out, giving Buck an expectant look.

“Open it, and you’ll find out.”

Buck took the package from Eddie, whatever was inside it soft, even through the crinkling wrapping paper. He eased the tape off the end, pulling out the most horrendous sweater he’d ever seen. It was heavy, with the weight of the tinsel and baubles attached to the sweater, glittery shedding all over Buck’s jeans as he unfolded it.

“Try it on,” Eddie encouraged, looking practically giddy as Buck complied, pulling his sweater off, and the new one on. It was itchy, against his skin, but Buck couldn’t complain, not when Eddie was looking so utterly delighted. “See?” he grinned. “Now we match.”

Buck glanced down at his new sweater, the tree on the front not quite the same as Eddie’s, but just as tacky, the baubles making a racket every time he moved. “Yeah,” he managed. “We do.”

“Do you like it?” Eddie looked nervous, all of a sudden.

“I love it,” Buck reassured. “But you didn’t have to get me anything, Eddie.”

“I know,” Eddie shrugged. “I wanted to. I know Christmas isn’t your favourite time of year, or anything - but I’m glad Christopher and I get to spend it with you, Buck,” he said, pausing for a second, before he moved, pressing a brief kiss to Buck’s cheek.

It felt like Buck’s face was on fire, as his best friend stepped back, a bashful look on Eddie’s face. This thing, between them, it had been slowly trundling towards being something more for a long time now, and Buck wondered, when the right moment would come for them to cross the line and embrace the something more of it all. It wasn’t the right moment, Buck knew, but the moment was coming, he realised. Soon, he hoped.

Eddie grinned again, reaching a hand under Buck’s sweater to fiddle with something, lights coming to life. “Your tacky sweater also has lights,” he beamed, switching on his own. “We’re so winning this competition, Buckley.”

“Is it a competition?” Buck couldn’t help but laugh, following his best friend out of the kitchen. “Eddie, I don’t think this is a competition. Eddie - Eddie! It’s a party, not a competition. Eddie!”

ao3 link

send me a christmas prompt

#evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 fox #911fic #buddie #in which i ramble #treacherousdiaz #prompt fill #in which lorna writes fic

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nesquik-arccheron · 3 years ago

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Nesta is afraid of heights and Cassian happens to be the one there to comfort her.

I’m so nervous/excited to have completed my first prompt! I didn’t realize how hard it was to take a simple idea and make into a story, so I pray I did it justice. I’m not sure if this is what you were expecting anon, but I hope you enjoy! :)

I also did not tag anyone from my main tag list, because I was unsure if people wanted to be tagged in prompts.

AO3 Link

TW: For description of a panic attack.

Fall was Nesta’s favourite time of year. While most people hated the way the days grew shorter, the sun finding its peace below the horizon before five, she loved the excuse to stay in. She enjoyed watching as the leaves changed colour and the weather turned cooler, content to be wrapped tight in her warm cotton blanket by her bedroom window until the scorching heat of summer returned.

Though the eldest Archeron sister preferred to take refuge behind the solid oak of her bedroom door during the colder months, finding comfort between the pages of a well-worn book, there was one thing that could pull her away from her safe haven. The local fair.

She loved the excuse to sample the most disgustingly greasy foods known to man, licking the fatty residue off her fingers before stalking down the endless rows of booths, piled high with every seasonal sweet and tooth-rotting candy there was. All things she allowed herself to indulge in without restraint once every calendar year.

There were concerts and one-man bands, competitions for the largest pumpkin and plumpest pig. Attractions that made your stomach lurch with each loop and spin and places to get that much dreamed about tramp stamp sprayed onto your lower back. There was face painting and magicians for the little ones, and time spent with friends.

It was everything she enjoyed about the autumn season, a day she and her sisters would spend devouring every inch of the grounds, wasting a large sum of their hard earned cash on games they would never win and cotton candy that turned their mouths bright shades of pink and blue.

It was set up to be the perfect day. The local schools taking the Friday off to let sugar crazed Middle Schoolers and hormone hazed High Schoolers run wild through the fairgrounds, her sisters by her side, wrapped in warm hats and fuzzy scarfs as they picked out where they would explore first.

Yes, in theory, it was the recipe for the perfect day. They had just sat down, all three girls huddled at a picnic bench in the food court, discussing their plans and sipping on hot apple cider, when out of the corner of her eye, Nesta spotted a small group approaching them.

She could feel her blood pressure spike at the sight. One look at her youngest sister and Nesta knew she had seen them too. The guilty smile Feyre sent her way was enough evidence to let her know she wasn’t surprised by the arrival of the seemingly unexpected guests. Elain said nothing, face neutral, ever the peacemaker. Nesta narrowed her eyes at them accusingly, “You didn’t.”

Feyre at least had it in her to look ashamed as her boyfriend slid onto the bench beside her, placing a kiss on her cheek in greeting, “Hello, Feyre darling.”

“I didn’t want you to be upset,” she sighed, leaning into Rhys.

“In what timeline would I not be?” She mumbled, voice falling on deaf ears.

It wasn’t Rhyand’s presence that perturbed her, okay, well not just him alone, but it was what he brought along with him. A large, overtly loud and annoying brute of a football player that didn’t know the meaning of personal space or -

“Hello, Nes,” An amused voice sounded from her left, breath hot in her ear. She didn’t need to turn to know who it belonged to.

Cassian Castillo, her arch enemy.

Okay, arch enemy may seem a little dramatic on her part, but it was the closest thing she had to one. Cassian was the star football player at Velaris High School, he was the walking, talking definition of Tall, Dark and Handsome, with an emphasis on the tall part. She hated how he towered over her 5’6” frame, more so when they argued, using his height as a physical advantage when she was beating him down verbally. His height was the only weapon against her sharp tongue, and she liked to think she brought him down an inch every time they spared.

It was no secret how much the two hated each other, their arguments legendary throughout the years. There were times when they even forgot why they continued this dance, one they had started in public school and straight through to their senior year. There were rumours, of course, some elaborate stories of how they became enemies, some even questioning if they were secretly dating and fought to distract from their relationship.

It wasn’t true of course, Nesta would rather go her entire life alone than have to settle for that handsome, annoyingly large, idiotic brute, no matter how attractive he was. No matter how much she couldn’t help but watch his muscles ripple under the tight maroon sweater he wore. A colour she swore was created just for him. Fuck.

Nesta cleared her throat, distracting herself from her less than neutral thoughts, “It’s one thing to invite that one, but must he bring his pet?” She said gesturing to Cassian, the boy in question forcing his large body in beside hers on the too small picnic bench. Azriel chuckled but kept quiet. She liked him the most out of the three brothers, though it didn’t account for much, as she was never a fan of Feyre’s boyfriend.

“I just thought it would be nice, to spend one more day together before you guys graduate in the spring,” Feyre pouted, trying to appeal to her sister's more nostalgic side. It wasn’t working, she wouldn’t let it, but there wasn’t much point in fighting about it now.

Nesta gave a disgruntled moan, taking a hesitant slip of her hot beverage, and trying to ignore the man child beside her. “I’m thinking we head for the rides, the line for the Fireball is going to be packed before noon.”

“Why the Fireball?” Elain asked.

Cassian smiled, “We go through the ride multiple times to see who vomits their guts out first,” he explained cheerily, “We need to get there before we eat, Rhysie boy here has a weak stomach, I’m just doing my brotherly duty and giving him a fighting chance.”

“Need we remind you who lost that bet the previous year,” Azriel advised.

“I had the flu, doesn’t count,” Cassian said, giving him the finger. Mature.

“It did the year you dragged me here when I had food positing,” Rhysand grunted, taking a drink of the cider Feyre offered him.

“As I said, weak stomach,” Cassian said, as if that explained everything. “Now come on, I want to go around on each ride before the end of the day, so we better get going,” he urged, taking the rest of Nesta’s drink and chugging it in one go, “Oh, that’s good.”

“Thanks, wouldn’t know,” she glared, fists balling. She had only ad a few sips, waiting for the liquid to cool before she drank it. Gods, she hated him.

She did not argue, as it was an overall vote to head for the attractions. The sisters, minus Feyre who rode the roller coaster once, watched them as they went around and around, until Rhysand came off the ride, vomiting onto the cement at his girlfriend's feet.

Cassian cheered as Azriel spit up into the trash can and declared himself the winner, offering his cheek to Nesta, “A kiss for the champion?” he asked her. He pouted as he rubbed his cheek, the only kiss he earned being one at the receiving end of her palm.

The entirety of the day played out much the same. Feyre and Rhysand making googly eyes at each other, holding hands and sharing multiple kisses that made the group gag. Elain and Azriel walked along behind in comfortable silence, Azriel even winning Elain and stuff minion, which earned him an awkward smile from her sister. There was a time when they may have gotten together, but what may have been romance blossomed into a beautiful friendship. She was grateful for that, it was bad enough Azriel was romancing one of her best friends, she didn’t need another prospected brother-in-law from this family.

At the tail end were Nesta and Cassian, the leftovers, arguing over everything from what ride was next on the list, to the booths and stalls they would visit, to even what foods they would consume. Even something as simple as the bathroom breaks were fought over. Every opportunity to disagree, to get in each other’s face was taken, and it was driving the rest of them mad.

It was around 8 pm when the sun began to set below the horizon, the lights from the attractions blocking out the stars above in their hazy, colourful glow. It was then that Rhysand suggested the Ferries Wheel. Nesta felt her blood grow cold and chest tighten at the mention of that dreadful ride. Not much ruffled Nesta, she was the personification of composed in almost any situation, unmoveable.

It was the threat of being more than a few metres off the ground that caused her body to respond in a way that even she couldn’t control.

She had never told anyone about her phobia, preferring to bury it deep down, along with all of her other insecurities. Some would call it avoidance, Nesta would call it self-preservation. Her parents, sisters, nor her two best friends were privy to her deep-rooted fear. So when Rhys suggested they all take a ride, Nesta’s body went into lockdown, brain wired to do anything and everything to protect itself.

“I think I’ll pass,” Nesta told the group as they approached the indomitable steel demon. Even just the look of it made her stomach flip with anxiety.

“Awww, come on Nessie, it’s just a Ferris Wheel, you’ve only been on two rides,” Cassian taunted, slinging an arm around her. She had refused to go on any rides that propelled them into the air, giving no logical explanation to her dismissal. Apparently, she was so unpleasant to be around, that it didn’t take much more than a few choice words and an annoyed glare to get them off her back. This would be no different.

“I won't waste my money or time circling on an overpriced eyesore, I’m perfectly fine on the ground,” she protested, a little too specific if Cassian’s look said anything.

He raised an eyebrow, “Scared Nes?” the excitement in his voice was prominent, the enjoyment of finding any weakness in her armour amusing him. She bristled.

Feyre on the other hand, looked irritated, “It’s just the Ferris Wheel Nesta, come join us or someone will be paired with a stranger,” she whined.

“I don’t want to, Feyre,” she said through clenched teeth. Rhys was about to tell her it was fine, that they could move along, when Feyre stomped cross the space between them.

“A word,” she said, face beat red as she dragged her off to the side a few feet from the ears of the group.

Feyre turned to face her as they stopped, “Nesta, please, I think Rhys is going to give me a promise ring, and I want it to be romantic, so please, just get on the ride, you can deal with Cassian for a few minutes!”

Nesta huffed, crossing her arms in a physical form of protection against an invisible enemy, “Why does it matter if I’m on the ride, he isn’t fucking proposing to me,” she shot back.

“Cassian wants to ride and I want this to be as painless as possible for all of us,” Feyre explained, taking a calming breath. “Cassian and Azriel are too big to fit in one seat, and he and Elain are finally back on talking terms after that entire shit show with Gwyn,” her sister went on, face growing redder with every word.

“Besides, you owe me,” she announced, holding up a hand to stop the older from speaking, “You both have been arguing all day, ruining it for everyone. Hell, the fighting has been non-stop since you were ten, and we have all had to put up with it. So I just need you to do this for me, keep Cassian occupied so I can have my moment with my boyfriend.”

Nesta looked away and back at her sister, mulling over her options. She loved her sister, wanted her to be happy and have her teenage romance. But, she didn’t want her to have it at the expense of her own sanity.

“Nesta, please,” Feyre begged, giving her sister her best puppy dog eyes, and Nesta broke. Just like Feyre knew she would.

By the time the two girls made it back to the group, it was their time to board. Feyre and Rhys were the first to be seated along with Elain and Azriel right behind them. Nesta and Cassian were last, taking occupancy three seats behind their siblings. She was thankful for that. Now if only Cassian would not be the one bearing witness to her inevitable breakdown.

But she steeled herself like she always did, pushing any uncontrolled emotions down that threatened to burst through her shields, begging for release. She was a rock, an island, solid, unmoveable. She would not break.

She felt a surge of pride zip through her as she sat down on the worn seat of the death machine, her heart a steady rhythm in her chest as she made herself as comfortable as she could beside the overbearing male beside her. He took up far too much room in the tiny space, their sides flush against each other’s, but she did not falter. It wasn’t until she heard the click of the safety bar fall into place that her confidence wavered, the sound alone sending an electric shock through every nerve ending. It made her feel claustrophobic, trapped, and she gripped the bar slowly, tightly, looking for anything to keep her hands from visibly shaking.

She knew she was done for when the ride picked up, launching them skyward. If she weren’t so petrified, she could admire the view, the lights, the stars, the moon taking its place in the sky above them. It was no wonder Rhys wanted to use the Ferris Wheel as the backdrop for their horrid display, it was shamelessly romantic.

The first turn was bearable, Cassian chattering on in her ear, Nesta ignoring him, attempting to keep herself from vomiting over the side of the ride onto unsuspecting victims. The second she could feel her body locking up, her lungs constricting under the weight of her bubbling fear. The third was the worst, and Nesta swore she would surely die as they reached the top of the ride. And stopped.

—————————

It was hard for people to believe that Cassian enjoyed the Ferris Wheel. He was a thrill seeker by nature, just like on the football field, he loved to follow the adrenaline rush of the faster, more heart stopping attractions. Gravitating towards those that left your throat sore from screaming and your stomach nauseous from the continuous loops. The more terrifying and neck breaking the better.

So it seemed unusual that he would appreciate the milder ride, but like in his everyday life, he needed a moment of calm. The gentle sway of the flimsy seat relaxed him, the lights and music below fading into a pleasant hum in the background of his thoughts as they continued their circle of the wheel. He didn’t mind having a one sided conversation with himself, but was surprised that the girl beside him did not respond to his incessant babbling, or his snide remarks he so often baited her with. He was always itching to face that fiery untamed anger of hers. She had never made it a secret her dislike of him, but she was always prepared for a fight, ready with hackles raised and a long list of rather colourful insults that would make even him flinch, but she continued to stay eerily quiet.

He assumed Nesta’s out of character attitude was due to the forced proximity, she had protested so valiantly that he had become somewhat embarrassed of how adamant she was about distancing herself from him. He had showered that morning, put cologne and deodorant on, so he defiantly didn’t stink. Even over the years of shared insults and violent arguments, he never thought he was that repulsive.

It wasn’t until the ride had come to a complete stop at the very top did he hear the sharp intake of breath, followed by a slow, controlled exhale from his right. It almost sounded like she was in pain, injured, but there were no threats here, had she hurt herself before getting on the ride, was she bleeding, did she need medical attention?

“Nesta?” He asked, shuffling, causing the steel basket they occupied to swing slightly. The whimper of anguish that escaped her had every inch of him on high alert. He surveyed her, trying to get a glimpse of any outward representation of what was hurting her, but he found none. Physically, she was fine.

Cassian paused, looking at her from a different perspective. He noted her hands, clenched to the safety bar, body hunched in an attempt to make herself smaller, her protection instincts kicking in. He watched her body shake from the force of her terror and tuned into every strangled breath and wheezing exhale she produced. She was trying to control her breathing, or lack thereof, as it seemed she was almost holding her breath to keep from screaming out in fear. And he knew that if he could see her face, her eyes would be dilated, hyper fixated on anything that would keep her from completely detaching herself from reality.

Cassian felt his heart constrict painfully in his chest as he fully took her in. The urge to wrap her in his arms was overpowering, to defend her against any threat, but there was no physical danger to her, and he felt helpless. How had she made it through seventeen years of her life and not let anyone know that she was petrified of heights? Was Nesta truly so scared, so distrustful of others, that she never allowed anyone, even her own sisters, to see her weak spots? Had she never confided in anyone her biggest fears?

He watched her knuckles turn white as they gripped the bar in front of her like a tether, something to ground her, remind her that there was something between her and the ground below.

Without a second thought, Cassian attempted to angel himself better without rocking the seat. He did not wish to spook her further, but the need to be closer, to comfort, was so strong that he couldn’t stifle the urge to touch.

“Nesta,” he whispered, trying to pull her attention from her fear to him. He tried twice more to get her attention before raising his hand and gently placing it on her back. Her lack of reception to his touch unnerved him, eyes still transfixed on the ground as her body continued to rattle violently. “Nesta, look at me,” he said firmly, the tone of his voice low, deeper than anything she had heard, a commanding hardness lacing each word.

Her reaction was immediate, head turning to face him at the command, clearly shocked by the control in it, but it had done its job and diverted her attention to him. She didn’t fight him as he wrapped an arm around her, unhooking her hands from the bar and watching as they trembled in his grip. Cassian held her writs in his palm, rubbing gently over her racing pulse point, in slow soothing circles. He could see the trepidation in her eyes, and wondered if Nesta heard his words at all or was just reacting to the tone of his voice.

“You need to breathe, Sweetheart,” he urged, keeping his voice calm and steady, trying to balance the panic in his own voice to sound authoritative enough that she would listen and react, silently praying that the Ferris Wheel would send them back down to the ground, removing the centre of her stress.

He could feel her fist clench in his grasp and allowed her to grip onto his shirt, something to anchor herself in reality, and held her close, trying to think of anything he could do to help her against the invisible enemy. Her breathing was still coming out in strangled gasps and Cassian was growing more concerned every second they did not move. “Nesta, breathe, just breath, in- and out,” he instructed, repeating the order and coaching her every breath to bring her heartbeat back to normal. “Breathe in- breathe out-, breathe in-, breathe out,” he continued, keeping his instructions simple and his voice steady as he guided her breathing. She was surprisingly receptive to his orders, mimicking his actions and taking in his scent with each inhale.

It was minutes of the repeated motions before her breathing began to slow. Cassian had not once stopped his coaching, rubbing her pulse point and allowing her body to relax against his once her muscles released the majority of the tension she was holding.

Nesta felt her emotions too keenly, even minimal ones were amped up to the highest extremes, to heights he didn’t think just one person could rightfully handle. Even her sense of fear.

“Nesta, look at me,” he told her, needing to gauge her current state.

“Cassian…” She acknowledged him, and he could see her brain trying to come up with an excuse for her actions, obviously embarrassed by the entire ordeal. Even this she couldn’t help but fight about. He cut her off before she could continue. She needed to calm down, not ramp herself back up.

“Don’t talk, just focus on me, on my touch, on my voice, nothing else,” he told her, bringing her closer to his body, to his own steady heartbeat, “Nothing else matters, just you and me and here and now.” The encouragement seemed to help as she did not fight him, did not question his reasoning or intentions and did as she was told while he talked her through it. He had never done this before, but she was reacting positively to his actions, and he wouldn’t let go until she pushed him away.

“It’s beautiful up here, the lights,” he went on, giving her something to concentrate on, “Quiet, peaceful-“

“Not with you’re continuous chatter,” Nesta huffed out. Of course, the first words out of her mouth in minutes would be her telling him to shut up. He enjoyed her bite, but never so much as he did right now.

He felt her tense again as the Ferris Wheel lurched back into motion, not coming to a complete end, but instead sending them on a prospective five more loops. It granted Nesta some time to collect herself, not entirely, but enough to allow her to come back from the sense of detachment she was currently feeling. Just enough for her to shield her panic behind the mask of interference she so often wore, unwilling to permit anyone else to see her in such a state.

Her skin was cold and clammy, and the baby hairs by her temples were wet with perspiration and sticking to her skin. She kept her eyes closed and hands clenched in his sweater as he rubbed her back in slow even circles, noting the shudders that racked her body were now few and far between. There was almost no gap between them, his focus entirely on her and her comfort, but he enjoyed the fresh scent coming off her hair anyway.

He remained a silent but strong presence, feeling her breathing evening out and wanting her to have a moment where she could regulate herself, to stand on her own two feet like he knew she was desperately trying to do. It was so important to this girl to have the ability to face everyone once the ride stopped, head held high with none the wiser to her discomfort. For she was too proud to show them this weakness, and he wouldn't force her to confront them.

He offered her the dignity of pulling away from her before the ride came to a complete stop, watching as she forced that mask of pure nonchalance onto her face with more difficulty than he had ever seen, but her eyes were what gave her away. Slightly glossed over and blinking continue to force the back the tears that threatened to expose her. She didn’t say a word as she exited, not once looking at his face.

“Are you okay?” Cassian questioned, quickly following behind her towards the group waiting for them a few feet away. Feyre and Elain squealing with delight. “You don’t have to be embarrassed,” he told her. Wrong thing to say, but he realized it too late. Proud bitch, he thought.

“I’m not,” she growled, whirling around and blocking his path as they made their way down from the ride, “This never happened, and I will deny it if you ever bring it up, so if you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep your fat mouth shut.”

“I’m not making fun of you, Nesta, not for this,” Cassian confirmed, holding his hands up in surrender, his voice nothing but a whisper, “Never this.”

“Whatever,” was her only response as she scurried away, completely ignoring any reply that he might have given.

“Nesta!” Feyre yelled excitedly, waving her hand in the air, the shiny opal ring on her finger glittering in the light of the ride behind them, “Oh, Nesta, look at-“ but he was cut off as her sister rushed past her, ignoring both her sisters cries as they begged her to come back.

“Can you guys not go one minute without fighting?” Feyre sighed, turning to Cassian.

Cassian shrugged, watching Nesta’s retreating back, “What can I say, we just bring out the best in each other.”

He would never bring it up again if he didn't have to, would never use this display of weakness against her, something she went to great lengths to hide. It hurt to think she would prefer to lock away her fear than expose herself to even her closest friends, her family. Cassian thought it made her human, but all Nesta saw was a deficiency, a crack in her carefully sculpted armour.

And like her, he would never admit how his own heart skipped a beat as she clung to him, her small body wrapped around his for comfort in a way he had only dreamed about. How like her, Cassian would never admit out loud how he had, since that fateful day in fifth grade, falling for the girl who bit and snarled at him like a caged animal.

Like the secrets she kept so close to herself, he would keep this too.

#i’m more nervous then i should be to post this #nessian #nessian fanfiction #nessian fic #cassian #nesta archeron #Confusedfandomslut #my prompts #dsfbjkdbfkal #i hope you like it #i wrote half of it in Cassian’s pov #because i couldn’t do it in Nesta’s #over 5k #under 10k

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kireiwoo · 3 years ago

Text

[7:29pm] # jung wooyoung.

first loves are a peculiar phenomenon.

they’re different for everyone; nuanced and pure, sometimes possessive and confusing. generally, there are a few recognizable traits that people share in a conglomerate of harrowingly differentiating forms; that gently aching thump of a rapid heartbeat, the once annoying squawks of irritating birds turning mellifluous and cherished in the charred dawn, or even skin prickling with heat, particularly on an unnoticeably freckled countenance. jung wooyoung remembers his first love like a meadow of marigolds.

she had the sweetest smile and the softest eyes, with silken skin and frazzled hair tousled by the playful wind. her voice was mild, perfect and laced with an intoxicating slur that beckoned him like strawberries and cream. she smelt like blueberry muffins and shaved vanilla, glasses idly perched on the bridge of her nose crookedly. she enjoyed lazing at the beach with airy shirts coloured variously, and sifting her fingers through smoothened sea-glass and sedimentary pebbles along the shoreline.

wooyoung and her had a special spot by the bay. nestled between oakwood and birch trees laid an undisturbed alcove; a small opening leading to a brief dock. lily pads and rose-coloured flowers entangled around the perimeter of the dock, wet moss and algae absentmindedly creeping up the corroded posts in each corner. the water grazing the horizon sparkled with the pearlescent sun’s rays, and wooyoung usually brought her there for picnics or as a means of fruitful escape.

the last occasion they spent time at their humble, blissfully ignorant getaway, she was wearing a mushroom necklace and mint-leaf hued sandals. he remembers her goofy laughter while they sipped convenience store banana milk and munched on handmade sandwiches. they weren’t gourmet, and wooyoung remembers being freshly introduced to the world of cooking, but they sufficed. the food had a sentimentality attached to it that urged them to devour it anyways.

he remembers times like that, pure and innocent like the crystal waters below them. but he also unwillingly recalls the bountiful arguments; moments where their disagreements turned sour or misunderstandings arose suspicion that led to frivolous octave matches. he remembers the feeling of cold tears on his warm cheeks; the contrast stark and alarming as his scratchy voice pleaded for a resolve, even though he knew he was wrong and that forgiveness was a fever dream. he remembers wrapping his arms around her and promising that he would be better; admitting to his faults in a desperate hope that things would smoothen over and they’d return to their normalcy that was the dock behind the foliage.

but they didn’t.

the separation was painful; comparable to stitches torn apart and sharp decay at the heartstrings. it was strange how the physical feeling of immature heartbreak was a thing. snot bubbled down to wooyoung��s lips and his eyes ran with rivers of tears; he couldn’t accept it. he felt like the world was crumbling. wooyoung would’ve gone lengths for her; down to the rumbling, pressurized depths of the ocean and light-years across an unbelievably bleak and dark universe. but the cosmos would shine with a luminescent illusion simply because he knew he would be returning to her, no matter what. this felt like floating in a pool of watery darkness, down to the impending trenches filled with gory, disembodied dreams and lost aspiration. she didn’t have to leave for it to hurt as badly as it did.

wooyoung eventually picked himself back up. he came to realize that life wasn’t as dim and resolutely dreary as he pictured it to be. he accepted that he wasn’t being dramatic, he was being realistic. unintentional pain isn’t ever something someone can purposefully dramatize, he thought. downtrodden, in the mud, even hitting rock-bottom; the only thing you can do is get up or give up; and he was tired of fantasizing about the latter. months passed and though he knew years of of a reciprocated relationship wouldn’t seep from his mind like steeped earl grey, he understood that it would take time and effort.

he understood that the pain of first loves were apart of growing up, whether he wanted to or not. he understood that the chirping outside would feel agonizing, the thumping would be a reminder that his heart wasn’t specifically beating for someone anymore, and every aspect of his life would seem to revolve around her, but he knew that eventually those feelings of bittersweet melancholia would gradually fade away. he learned that sometimes things have to be hard to get better. sometimes lonesomeness is a lesson disguised by a lust for company, no matter how toxic or tainted it may be.

today, wooyoung sits by himself at the dock. he stares out into a sunset of burnt oranges, crimson, and honeyed magenta, recognizing that he doesn’t need another half to complete his mismatched but beautiful semi-circle. he knows that he’ll fall in love again, and that’ll it’ll hurt, but from that suffering he also learnt that life doesn’t have to be wildly traumatic to have it’s hard moments. he found that living doesn’t have to revolve around finding love in a lost alcove by the bay. a large portion of growing up means to find, to hurt, to heal, and to reminisce. and sure, sometimes he gets that gargling pit of nostalgia buzzing deep in his gut, or that momentary haze of remembrance that stuns him into silence, but he knows that it’s fleeting; monotone but temporary.

first loves are a peculiar phenomenon; they can be achingly painful or addictively sugary, and sometimes they end in more strife than intended. they feel like dancing on clouds of cotton candy, the disgustingly gloomy world suddenly painted with colours you didn’t know existed. heartache is expected, as well as tears of grief and frustration, but it’s part of growing up. because sometimes, growing up means experiencing the brunt of pain before you can enjoy the tangible delicacies of happiness. wooyoung knows that now.

and he’ll sob and mourn from the residual loss, but he’ll always remember her, his first love, like a meadow of marigolds; as a flower he held, and one that wilted, but one he’ll never forget. first loves are such a peculiar thing, no?

— taglist ; @masterninjacow @subways-stuff @neo-shitty @seacottons ! thanks for reading :(

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wincore · 4 years ago

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sweet tooth | dong sicheng

pairing: vampire!sicheng x reader

words: 2.8k

summary: out of all the inconveniences a vampire boyfriend could pose, there’s about two tonight: a) him losing it at the next person who compliments his fangs, or b) you losing it at sicheng’s 100% blood alcohol content

genre: vampire!au, boyfriend!au, college!au, (tooth-rotting) fluff, comfort, humour

warning(s): mentions of blood, alcohol consumption, college halloween parties

song rec(s): candy - baekhyun // wish you were sober - conan gray

a/n: let’s pretend it’s halloween pls <3 also im sorry it’s so short and more drabble-ish but i wanted to write something gentle and comforting so!!! yeah ^^ also there is no plot. eep.

It’s two in the morning.

Or rather, it feels like two in the morning.

A frat party is a horrible substitute for an actual Halloween party. The alcohol content is through the roof and the number of pairs making out is enough to make you feel queasy. You never knew horror themes had the innate ability to make people so flagrantly horny—you’re half glad you’re not, god forbid, single. Most of your friends were too busy, however, to organize the close-knit party you usually have each year—so here you are, with an invitation from a friend of a friend (of a friend). Your boyfriend might be the only one feeling more out of place than you are.

You glance at Sicheng from the pool table, the cup frozen against his lips while his eyes scan the room from corner to corner. You don’t do crowds and neither does he; though he does have the unwitting ability to charm any crowd he’s in. You’re not quite sure if he’s still unaware of that.

You watch as a girl you can easily recognize from your campus approach him, all smiles and giggles. She says something and you scoff, almost completely certain about what it is she said.

Sicheng might be unaware of it—but you are, and painfully so.

She looks at him starry-eyed and the scent of rum wafting around her. A part of her jacket is off her shoulder, a faint blush covering her cheeks that you can spot even under the dim lights. She’s definitely flirting—you know that because rumours go around faster than assignments in this university. Choi Joohee has a very public, very open crush on your boyfriend.

It’s not like it bothers you. Not at all.

Just a little bit.

Jealousy has never been your thing and you’re half certain what you’re feeling isn’t even jealousy—just a taste of alcohol and the proximity of a Halloween house party.

Speaking of which, the only thing harrowing about this place is the amount of alcohol everyone seems to be consuming—including your boyfriend. Ten dragged Yukhei home a while ago and a part of you is still not confident enough to handle a boyfriend with very pointy fangs and midnight cravings for blood (or juice, as Ten disgustingly phrases it).

Sicheng nods along to something Joohee asks, an eyebrow raised quizzically on her and you assume he’s been zoning out the whole time. The urge to laugh surfaces and you swallow it whole. He’s so cute, even in this state. The lights dance across his face; candy blue, rich purple, saccharine red. The colours don’t help him stand any straighter, or slur his words any less.

You think it’s time to help your boyfriend out. However, the moment you walk through the swarms over to them, Joohee’s face sours. Of course, as the only competition (is it a competition if you’ve already won?) to the object of her affections, you don’t rank too high in her books. It made you a little upset at first, but you got used to it. (“She’ll get over it,” Sicheng had reassured several times. “Don’t worry.”)

People grow, and with that thought, you let it be.

“I’ll talk to you later,” Joohee tells Sicheng and walks away, like he’s supposed to follow her.

You roll your eyes and turn to Sicheng, who’s had a very delayed response to Joohee’s departure. His head is tilted to the side, eyes half-lidded and you’re almost afraid he’s going to drop to the floor right there and then. This is bad. The thing about vampires is that they absolutely should not, under any circumstance, have alcohol. Calling your boyfriend a lightweight is beyond an understatement.

“Sicheng,” you call softly.

He turns to you, taking a moment to process, before pulling his lips into a wide smile. His fangs poke out even when he presses his lips back together, a contemplatory look over him.

“I thought you left me here.” He forces a sardonic smile.

Drunk off his ass and Sicheng still manages to be annoyingly sarcastic.

You open your mouth and close it again. It’s not like you can chide him without letting your fondness show. The Adonis features that grace his face don’t help. Flushed all the way to the neck, a drunk Dong Sicheng is very rare. The last time this happened must have been at least two years ago (and though you weren’t there then, the way Ten and Kun freeze up at the slightest mention, you decided to not ask).

“Why did you drink?” you ask, huffing. “You can’t even smell alcohol.”

There’s a short pause.

“Because you were ignoring me,” he replies, leaning in.

Heat washes into your cheeks. You forgot how unrestrained he gets with alcohol in his system.

Sicheng seems to have enough consciousness left in him to feel somewhat embarrassed, standing up straight and fiddling with his thumbs. You slip your hand into his without delay and pull, trying your best to navigate through the crowd. Is an ordinary Halloween party too much to ask for? Just when you can finally spot the front door, Sicheng stops abruptly, making you stumble backwards into his chest. He smells like the old deodorant he’s been using for a year underneath the smell of beer and… is that blood?

“Where are we going?” he asks sharply.

“Home, Sicheng,” you whine. “You can stay in my bed.”

He stays rooted in place stubbornly, and you wonder what it is now. This is the time you have to wonder if you’re dating a (potentially) immortal creature or a recently birthed baby.

“We should enjoy more. You’ve hardly smiled the past few weeks,” he mutters.

Your heartbeat spikes for a moment, when he brushes the hair from your face. All this time and he hasn’t changed the words he offers to you in private, the care on his lips and fingertips. A room full of people who aren’t listening is the best place to talk.

The first time you saw Sicheng was in the middle of the night, in the dark hallway of your shared apartment building, blood staining his jaw from a bag he’d acquired from med student Wong Kunhang. (You’re very sure that’s illegal.)

Needless to say, you’d fainted immediately after. When you came to, you were met with a man with pretty eyes and fangs poking out his mouth and in a bed that wasn’t yours. There was no blood this time but you screamed anyway, cut off by the man’s hand over your mouth.

“Calm down,” he said, voice surprisingly deep. “It’s not like I’m going to kill you.”

“You were planning to kill me?” you asked, panicking.

“I just said I wouldn’t,” he replied quietly, eyes wide and almost as stressed as you are.

Sicheng heaves a sigh, massaging his forehead. You shake yourself off the memories, tugging at his shirt so you can sit somewhere at least. The alcohol must have numbed his ears too. The low R&B tunes make no sense on Halloween night; even less when they’re played a few bars above the acceptable volume. If you’re not out of here soon, you might lose your hearing altogether.

The couch is slightly less stinky than you would have expected. (You grimace as you think to the last time you were at a frat party and in particular, the vomit.) Beside you, Sicheng mumbles about something you’re not quite sure of, a quiet rant with one-track emotions. It makes you giggle and for a moment, you forget the predicament of being stuck with a drunk vampire boyfriend who has just finished teething.

“Hey, guys.”

You look up to see Jihoon, the very friend of a friend (of a friend) who had invited you to this mess. It’s not like you harbour ill feelings towards him; but the guy has approximately zero ability to read the room. It’s mostly funny.

Sicheng makes a vague gesture that you assume means ‘hello’, sitting up straight so he doesn't look noticeably tipsy. You make light conversation with Jihoon, Sicheng’s arm around your waist tightening reflexively. You don’t plan on party-hopping, no matter how much Jihoon urges the two of you—seriously, does he not see the look on Sicheng’s face? He looks more zombie than vampire.

“You know, you don’t actually have to wear costumes for this, right? We didn’t set a theme,” Jihoon remarks, tilting his head to face your boyfriend. “The fangs are really cool, though. Holy shit. Dude, they look so real.”

Sicheng’s lips twitch but he forces them into a smile, trying to move as far away from Jihoon as possible. The fangs are usually not out and about in the open, slightly retracted during the day. The night, however, keeps him on edge. Sicheng hates the spotlight that only ever shows up for the wrong reasons, and he’d much rather graduate without having to deal with horny vampire-lovers. (It’s not that sexy; and you know from experience.)

The way Sicheng looks makes you wonder how many people have pointed out the fangs tonight. You purse your lips to keep yourself from laughing.

“Thanks,” he responds, voice his usual deep baritone.

Jihoon leaves after being unable to draw any more conversation out of Sicheng, some peace gracing you despite everything.

If you ever write a book on how to deal with vampire boyfriends, the first rule would be to never kiss him at night. The fangs are not as withdrawn then and they hurt. (The second is, of course, to never let them get a whiff of alcohol.)

When Sicheng first kissed you, it was midnight and you were at the convenience store to buy a few lunchboxes and instant coffee mix. You’d yelped when his fang had pricked your lower lip, alarming the worker and around fifteen minutes of (dishonest) explanation later, the two of you had left without buying what you came for.

After fretting for a while, Sicheng had kissed you once more with careful consideration—till the damn fangs got in the way again. It was sweet for a moment—like candy—though, the metallic taste of blood had invaded it afterwards. No matter how awkward or painful it was, your elation outweighed the rest.

Kisses weren’t the only thing interrupted by fangs.

The turtlenecks and scarves certainly raised an eyebrow in your circle of friends. There was concern at first, then teasing and then a whole lot of inside jokes which made you want to smack each and every one of them. (“They’re hickeys, I swear, not vampire bites,” you had informed Ten. “Ew. I did not need to know that.” “Shut up.”)

Even so, Sicheng is warm—always has been, and not on the skin.

You feel pressure on your shoulder, his hair tickling your neck and you adjust yourself so it’s more comfortable.

“Tired?” you ask.

“Not at all.”

You shake your head at his lie. Gently pushing his head away, you get up from your seat and pull him up with all of your strength. Linking your arm through his, you smile at him when he raises an eyebrow. It’s time to get home, you’ve decided and these are times when one vote is enough.

When you reach the front door, stumbling out with your suddenly talkative boyfriend, the autumn breeze hits you. Under the moonlight, the rosy hue over his cheeks is clearer and even more so when he smiles.

“It’s like our first date,” he says.

You smile back at him.

“You were so embarrassing,” he adds.

Your smile drops and you smack his arm, eliciting a soft complaint from him.

Your first date was the only normal thing in this relationship—a date at the amusement park on Halloween, a bunch of kids mistaking your now boyfriend for Count Dracula and caramel popcorn smeared over your fingers.

Sicheng sighs, lowering his head to rest his forehead against your shoulder. The two of you stay like that for a moment or two, the party music finally fading and Sicheng’s warmth seeping into you. You fix the lapels of his jacket absentmindedly, fingers tracing over the material. His hands rest lightly against your back yet still secure.

A kitten lick at your neck jolts you back to reality. You gently push him by the shoulders, finding his fangs bared already. He stays unmoving for a few seconds before closing his mouth and going back to leaning against you, breath falling in waves against your neck.

“I’m not your juicebox, Sicheng,” you snap, frown deepening.

“But you have so much blood,” he mumbles, his forehead hot against your shoulder.

“Sicheng.”

He sobers up a little, pulling back with a stream of pouting apologies. You bite your lip to keep yourself from smiling. Despite everything, your boyfriend is such a child sometimes. There’s a short pause.

“But wait, don’t go biting someone else’s neck,” you quickly add, flustered.

Sicheng suppresses a smile.

“So I can have a little—”

“No.”

Sicheng pouts but agrees enough to follow you, the two of you moving soundlessly over the sidewalk. Being alone with him has always been easing; you don’t need a crowd for comfort.

With fingers interlaced, you walk alone with him as the orange street lights cast shadows on the buildings lined up. A few more blocks and you’ll reach your apartment, get to push Sicheng into bed and pray he doesn’t throw up at your front door—and yet still, you walk as slow as you can as if the autumn wind will be gone as quick as it arrived.

The number of people shrink the further you get from the party, and you heave a sigh of relief, glad to be away from, what you and your friends call, the rich neighbourhood. The familiar path to your apartment, no matter the pricing, has much better air to breathe in. It’s past midnight and yet, you can see the city lights in the distance, the ones that never sleep—for the living or the dead.

Something runs into your legs and you jump onto Sicheng, who in turn flinches away with a strangled yelp.

You look down to see a giant golden retriever in a white blanket which you assume is meant to be a ghost outfit. It wags its tail, sniffing around your boyfriend’s legs, making him giggle as he crouches down to pet the creature.

“I’m so sorry!”

You look up to find a young girl holding a pumpkin almost as large as her head, an apologetic look over her head. Some part of you is happy to see a costume, considering you were robbed of yours. (Sometimes you dream of matching costumes but again, the damn fangs.)

“Piri loves people, I’m so sorry if he bothered—oh hey dude, cool fangs.”

Sicheng offers the fakest smile ever, accompanied with a thumbs up gesture. You sigh, apologizing to the girl before parting ways.

“That’s the eighth time tonight,” Sicheng says, scowling almost. “I counted.”

You laugh, squeezing his hand. Calm, relaxed Dong Sicheng tends to lose it at repetitive comments with only three sips of beer.

When you reach the apartment building, clouds cover the moon and you draw your jacket closer to yourself. You think for a moment about the inevitability of time and whether you’re even allowed to fall in love this way. You push the thoughts aside almost inevitably. When the time comes, you will have a decision to make—and after everything, it is love which turns people.

For now, you can enjoy this Halloween night with your (literally) one-of-a-kind boyfriend.

You fumble around with the keys, Sicheng looking at you with sleepy eyes as he leans against the wall. He must be worn out from the alcohol by now.

“Hey,” he calls, the words more muffled than usual.

You raise an eyebrow, tugging him inside all the while maintaining your balance.

“You know my favourite blood type?” he continues.

You shake your head. “If you’re thinking of feeding, I’ll get some blood bags from Kunhang.”

Sicheng pouts. “You ruined the line.”

“Huh?”

“Yours. Yours is my favourite blood type.”

Despite the terrible execution of his so-called pick-up line, you find yourself shaking with laughter. You’re not sure if it’s the late night or the October air—the two of you share the silliest of laughter at the doorway to your apartment.

Within the moment itself, Sicheng leans in to kiss you and your hands move to run through his hair out of habit. The taste of beer and the prick of his fangs makes you pull away. You look at each other for a moment before you give in anyway and kiss him against the doorframe.

October ends with memories—your first date, Sicheng’s cooking disaster, and now this. It’s blissful for the few moments the two of you let it be. That is, until Sicheng opens his mouth.

“Oh, by the way, can you apologize to Ten for me? I think I bit him thinking it was you.”

“Sicheng, what the fuck?”

October ends with proximity, sweet as candy and warm as toast—stumbling into bed with all that and more.

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oftenderweapons · 4 years ago

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Introducing the girlfriends: the looks.

Hello puppets! In this post I’d like to show how I imagine the OC Girlfriends in terms of face and looks, mostly in terms of fashion.

I won’t state how many times my self esteem abandoned the conversation as I made this post, so let me do a disclaimer before I make y’all suffer with me (sorry). These pictures come from my Pinterest board called “Simply incredible people”, which contains mostly photos of people that have very unique facial traits and that I use for reference. Now, ALL OF THESE ARE MODELS. They were photographed BECAUSE after hours of makeup and hair and clothes chosen perfectly for them, a set made up specifically to enhance their good looks, a fair bit of photoshop and unfairly good genetics they were put in the position of being beautified. Don’t think that these gorgeous folks are The Thing: I picked them because of specific reasons explained under each picture, and in my opinion all the guys are pretty far from dating perfect young women with perfectly symmetrical features and flawless complexion and... all of that. However, yes, in my mind they date regular, “unbeautified” versions of these women. If your self esteem can’t handle disgustingly beautiful models, then please, don’t open the “read more”. Also, you’re absolutely free to keep imagining your ideal girls and not check out this post, no hard feelings ✌��😘

However, if — like me — you are incredibly attracted to girls with pretty unique facial features, then do open. If you’ like girls, I’m sorry, you might have one (or more) new crush(es) after this post.

Now, all of the girls have Asian traits — because according to my plots and headcanons, (which you can find in my masterlist) the guys have always met their s/o while in Seoul/Korea and also because I’ve always imagined the girls Asian. However, I’m not saying that they like these specific types or looks, or that they’ll end up with a person with traditionally Asian traits: I am simply assuming in statistic terms. Also, since I write memberxFem!reader, they’re obviously all girls.

I only know two of the people inserted here (that is Vixen and Kitten). I might have accidentally inserted someone famous, however that was not my intention. Also, the girls have been chosen exclusively for facial features: there is no shipping going on between real people here.

After this lengthy introduction, let me move on to the real deal.

In case you need my masterlist, here it is! (Remember to vote for next prompt!!! Link in bio 🥰)

Enjoy✨💜

Vixen - (Namjoon)

— The face —

Baby face: yes

Doll lips: yes

Very intense, borderline scary, November-baby glance: yes.

This is Vixen, with her baby cheeks, her sharp, refined looks and a doll-like face that mixes innocence and seduction. Top that with deep red lipstick and artsy jewellery. Her eyes show ten thousand different feelings and her face is suitable for acting, being extremely expressive: every little sensation and emotion can be found in a quirk of the mouth or an arching of the eyebrow, a little curl of the nose or a pursing of her lips.

— The Look —

Total black winter look, basic and classy, thigh-high boots for her long legs, simple, plain bags and purses, and finally a long coat to keep her warm over her dresses usually characterised by a high neck and a generous slice of leg. But don’t let that fool you: her favourite looks are oversized sweaters stolen from Namjoon’s wardrobe — that obviously fit like dresses on her —, fluffy woolen tights or stockings and comfy shoes when they go on breakfast dates, but also thick jumpers, large jeans and comfy sneakers when they go for walks and bike trips.

Angel (Seokjin)

— The Face —

Traditional Korean Beauty: yes

Big eyes: yes

Soft pink lips: yes

Angel is the definition of Korean Beauty, looking young and innocent. She could easily have the face of an idol, with the purest of charms. And her cute bangs... yes.

— The Look —

Even though her job requires a total black look, which often means pretty flats, black trousers and a turtleneck, in her free time she likes wearing preppy looks, with lots of plaid prints and cute dresses that match Korean standards, with not-too-revealing necklines and a skirt that hits just above the knee. Match it all with cute, warm coats and small bags.

Kitten (Yoongi)

— The Face —

Intimidating look: yes

Angular jaw: yes

Plush lips: yes

Kitten has angular, almost aggressive facial features, characterised mostly by the rectangular shape of her face and her jaw, and quite jutting cheekbones. She has a rough, tough beauty which can be difficult to understand but absolutely charming to observe.

— The Look —

Another one with total black, but unlike Vixen, who likes coloured clothes once winter ends, Kitten keeps the black look all year round, inserting tiny splashes of colours with accessories and jackets. Expect a lot of turtlenecks and blazers for her work attire, but also fancy shirts for more elegant occasions, mostly silk blouses that offer a generous view of her bosom.

Giggles (Hoseok)

— The Face —

Strawberry blonde: yes

Freckles: yes

Too cute: yes

I’ve always imagined Giggles with a mop of messy reddish-blonde hair, may it be natural or dyed. I know the combo is pretty rare; still, she’s a fictional character so... a girl can dream.

— The Look —

A vintage mess of prints. She messes around with flowers and stripes and plaids and colours. You could most definitely spot her in a crowd. Even when she’s working (remember she’s a vet), she has very colourful scrubs and bright coloured clogs/nurse shoes. Overall too cute and tiny for her good, her being so small makes it easy for her to shop in the children department and find even more coloured, fancy prints.

Princess (Jimin)

— The Face —

Overall cute: yes

Gaze to command a photo shoot: yes

Borderline scary both in terms of beauty and power: yes

This small girl has the power to supervise everything, you can read it on her face (remember she works for a fashion magazine and organises photoshoots). Sheer calculating, organising force. And with a gaze like that, ready to make you wither and die were you to deny her, you see specifically why I chose her.

— The Look —

Smart attire, comfortable flats or slippers to dash from a place to another. Comfy, fashionable, practical. She’s always on a rush from an appointment to the other and she uses bags big enough to hold a skirt and a pair of heels in case she needs more elegant attire for a last-minute evening appointment in fashionable clubs and restaurants. She’s more than happy to play Barbie for Jimin, letting him choose how to dress her.

Lace (Taehyung)

— The Face —

Louder big dick energy than your ex: yes

A neck to die for: yes

Eclectic charm: yes

Honestly, I think Lace is too particular — strange even — to find someone who could possibly embody her. What made me pick this specific woman was her very incisive choice in clothing and accessories, but I’ll update her sooner or later, I think. As me and my friend said: you don’t find Lace, is Lace that finds you. (Also, if anyone has a Lace to suggest, please send links 💖)

— The Look —

Black tight dresses, all the time. Tight pencil skirts and anything that screams Fifties housewife; lots of robes, unusual cuts and premium fabrics — she is a designer and lingerie maker, after all. She doesn’t follow trends, she makes them. She is literally one of those people who looks good even with the most hideous, unfashionable things on. However, the moment she wears a silk slip dress, her power intensifies by a few thousand times — do not expect Taehyung not to get weak in the knees. In the house she’s absolutely comfortable wearing a robe with nothing underneath — and sometimes she doesn’t even tie it close. Taehyung is perfectly okay with that.

Candy (Jungkook)

— The Face —

Biggest smile: yes

Cutest lil nose: yes

Very squishable: yes

The small happy bean is a very gentle bean too. She is a graphic designer and a cartoon artist and it shows in her whole being, even in her facial features. I imagine her hair not too long, soft and wavy — though the most valuable asset to Jk is their scent. And look at those sweater(shirt) paws!!! Adorable.

— The Look —

First rule of Candy and Jk’s relationship is “my flannel shall be thy flannel”. Their wedding rings will probably be flannel shirts. Candy likes to pull them off with oversized sweats or coloured jeans. She also wears oversized sweaters — probably stolen from Jk’s wardrobe — together with leggins and mid-calf socks, especially since her workplace is not too strict with dresscode. She likes oversized and layered fits, using light cotton shirts and tank tops in the summer and fleece/flannel shirt and warm woolen turtlenecks in winter. Comfort always comes first. Expect her to use biker shorts and giant T-shirts and bulky shoes in the summer on her spare time.

An extra — since I’m sooooo gay for these two

Sora Choi and Yoon Young Bae are the two models that I immediately spotted respectively for Kitten and Vixen and the fact that they posed together made me super soft (I literally fell in love with both of them). Oh also!!! Yoon has posted on her insta the sweetest picture of her with a snow bear and it was like... a sign, but also so endearing and I’M SMITTEN, HEAD TO TOE IN LOVE WITH THIS SMALL CUTE LIL POTATO. She’s a cutie and Sora has the prettiest smile I swear to God I’d give the world for these two. *bisexuality upgrades*

Did you imagine them differently? Are there any of the girls that match or challenge your ideas? Leave your impressions in the comments!!! 😚☺️

#introducing the girlfriends #bts blog #bts headcanons #bts scenario #namjoon x vixen #jin x angel #yoongi x kitten #hoseok x giggles #jimin x princess #taehyung x lace #jungkook x candy

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theambassadorkaan · 3 years ago

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Starter: Closed to Oriana + Kaan @orianarobles Location: Outside of Britannia Date: Dec 31st New Years Eve

It was a year of grey in many ways. From the grey areas of right and wrong, to the very literal and real greyness of life and colour being sucked from his very being. The world was a terrible place and yet so disgustingly full of wonder and greatness that one was easily consumed or manipulated into participating in it. The year of 1888 was no different from this, in fact the grey of his life seemed to be secreting through the cracks and threatening to spill over everything he held dear to him.

Kaan was not an overtly romantic type of man, no, that would show far too much weakness to those around him to afford him that trait. However, with the year coming to an end, he thought there no better way to show appreciation for one of the few things that added a splash of colour into his otherwise very devoid of colour, life. So here he stood, wearing clothes more suited to a commoner, waiting outside the Britannia which employed London’s most beautiful barmaid, to surprise her with - what he hoped, to be an evening she would be delighted in spending with him.

In hindsight he perhaps should have made sure she had not scheduled herself busy with anyone else, none of her friends or...No. He swatted away the possibility of any suiters, it would not help him to think of such devastations currently.

The very faint ding of a bell graced the otherwise loud city streets just before the elegant curve of the women who held his captivation emerged from the building, looking tired after her long shift, but still as beautiful as ever. She wasn’t expecting him, but that’s what women liked, right? Surprises, flowers, candy - a nice dinner to see where the night leads. At least this is what Kaan assumes, as in truth, he never had to try very hard to make things click into place with Oriana - their quiet - or loud, intimate moments seemed to get them by just fine. However, he knew she wanted, needed, more from him - so he was trying. This was more, wasn’t it?

“Took you long enough to get done with work, Darlin’.” Kaan tried and probably failed at his best class-neutral accented way of speaking. His hat was tilted low and as he neared her, he tipped it up with a charming smile that lifted just the left of his mouth.

#oriana #event: Frost Fair #I am sorry it's so long

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merryfortune · 5 years ago

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Day 10 / Honey

Ship: Serenadeshipping | Serena/Yuzu

Universe: Arc V

Rating: G

Word Count: 623‬

Tags: Canon Divergent, Post Canon, Fluff

She dripped with sweetness.

Dulcet tones clung to the very aura in which she projected. She had candy coloured hair and the sweetest smile. All around her, a floral scent floated and Serena couldn’t help but be enamoured with every bit of Yuzu. She was wonderful. Marvellous.

But Serena wasn’t sweet.

She wasn’t gentle. She stomped about where Yuzu nearly skipped. She wasn’t the type who could smile so sweetly and bat her eyelashes. If life was a box of chocolates, then Serena was the disgustingly bitter dark chocolate that no one could stand to touch and she would know. She hadn’t been touched with kindness for a long, long time. Not until she met, and became infatuated with, Yuzu. Sweet, kind Yuzu….

Of course, Yuzu wasn’t that type of person all the time. Perpetually sweet and without fault. She could be bitter. She could be sour. Most of all, and perhaps most important of all, Yuzu could be citric.

Regardless, Serena loved her for all her flavours and tastes. Every mood, she learned something new about Yuzu and the way she saw the world. It was nearly rosy. Not quite. Not anymore. Not with what she had learned in Synchro and what she had learned in Fusion and what she had learned in Pendulum; not Standard. Pendulum. She was wisened, but that wasn’t a bad thing.

Serena could learn a thing or two or many from Yuzu.

She could learn to be kind. Learn to be a friend to people. And so on and so forth. Perhaps she could even learn to love the way that Yuzu did; with those precious smiles and heartfelt gestures. All things alien to young Serena who had been kept at arm’s distance from her peers, groomed to be the perfect piece of a perfect daughter from a perfect life no more.

From Serena’s observations, if eating ice cream by the carton in the dark, watching movies with pretty people having pretty meltdowns, with Yuzu on the lounge of her family living room, could be trusted then there was one easy little thing which she could do with her mouth to help convey that she really liked Yuzu.

Not kissing.

Kissing was still too advanced for her. She who was gawky and awkward and the intricate ritual of feeling other people’s skin was still fisticuffs with her. No, there was another thing she could do with her mouth. Her tongue and voice, really. She could say nice things. Call people nice things.

And the nice things that Serena associated with Yuzu were things like gardens. Beautiful, green gardens with flowers which flowered with plush petals right after when spring had sprung and the petrichor of the latest spray of rain was still in the dewy air. She thought of flights of fancy with fairies with insect eyes. She thought of the birds and bees and the process of pollination. She thought of the sweetest thing which was thereby culiminated from all these nice things.

With her heart beating in her chest, her fists by her side, with her lips twitching, Serena called out to Yuzu, one day soon:

“Honey, can I call you honey… when we’re alone, when it’s just us?”

Yuzu laughed. A dulcet and melodious laugh. She drew in closer, humming, thinking to herself.

Serena’s stomach knotted like liquorice bows.

“Only if I can call you kitten in return.” Yuzu told Serena.

Serena smiled. Awkward but thrilled. Her eyes alight and Yuzu reached out, took her hand. She ran her thumb over Serena’s knuckles, soothingly and she smiled.

“That sounds really…” Serena’s voice trailed off and she couldn’t think of the right word. Nice? Lovely? Pleasant?

“Sweet?” Yuzu suggested.

Serena nodded in agreement; discreetly demure.

#femslash february #serenadeshipping #yugioh arc v #arc v #arc v fanfic #yugioh #serena (arc v)#celina (arc v)#yuzu hiiragi #hiiragi yuzu #zuzu boyle #writing tag #clover and violets #clover and violets 2020

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allyvampirelass29 · 5 years ago

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Cold Day in July

Paradise For the Lost, Part 2 A NOS4A2 Fanfiction By: Allyssa J. Watkins

Vic McQueen stared at it, the phantom bridge that only she could see...…. The Shorter Way, yeah, sure, that's what they all called it, but nothing felt easy now. There would be no shortcuts, no shorter way to destroying that SICK Christmas-Lovin' FREAK, Manx."

You would be very welcome in Christmasland, Vic McQueen...… Dare I say, you belong there with me.

She felt herself shudder even in the sunshine, the chill of a cold day that couldn't exist, yet waited all the same, and she felt the climbing rage and consequent queasiness, all over again, as Charlie Manx's voice slid unwanted through her consciousness, dripping like wet paint. His hushed whisper sounded to her like disgustingly long nails scraping across a chalkboard.

"NEVER!" She screamed to the warm, balmy air, as if he stood right there with that damn car, even now, tilting his chauffer's hat. "You can get BENT, you EFFING nightmare!!!!"

Now, now, Victoria, is that any way to behave yourself? Only good girls get to go to Christmasland, girls that know how to share...…

She hurled her motorcycle helmet at him, releasing a furious yell, and then rushed to catch it before it tumbled off the edge of the precipice.

"SHIT!" She cursed under her breath, feeling angry and exasperated.

I said, SHARE, Dear Girl, not SWEAR

"SHUT UP, you friggin' MONSTER!!!" She screamed. "You hear me!? Charlie Manx, do you HEAR me!? You will NEVER use my bridge, you got that, huh!?!? I'll DIE first!!!"

That..... is an option

She screamed again, crouching down in the dirt, her forehead in both hands, trying to black it all out, smear him away, blot out his candy coated hell.

"VIC!?!? VIC!?!?"

Vic bristled, but it was not Charlie Manx's taunting voice calling out to her this time, it was Maggie's and she sounded scared as hell.

She sprung to her feet, knocking over her motorcycle, just as Maggie attacked hugged her, sobbing, hysterical.

"Maggie? Mags, what is it!? What happened!?"

"Damn it, Vic, you don't answer your phone, you're not at your house, or Willa's, DAMN IT, I thought he- "

Vic felt her stomach drop the same way it did when she did jumps on her motorcycle, flying across the uneven dirt mounds in the woods. "Maggie, I'm sorry, I left my phone at home, I had to get out of there, I couldn't stand listening to them fight anymore, my parents, and-"

Vic stopped cold, as Maggie pulled back to look at her, her face drained of its usual mocha colour, her purple braid loose and frazzled, her eyes red like she'd been crying.

"Mags, you gotta tell me, what the hell is going on?"

"It's okay, You're okay. I'll show you why I freaked, I don't- I d-don't understand-"

Vic righted her felled bike, resting her elbow on the handlebar, watching warily as Maggie knelt down in the dirt, and cast her smooth white tiles on the ground, arranging them, her fingers frantic.

Once done, she motioned Vic to kneel down next to her, biting her lip, and as Vic read the tiles, she understood Maggie's abject horror, her head swimming. Three words. WRAITH TAKES QUEEN.

"Wraith Takes Queen." Maggie spoke the foreboding words out loud, making them that much more real, and Vic shivered. "I thought it was you, that he had you, Vic, and I panicked. My tiles are NEVER wrong."

"Maggie, it's okay, damn, I woulda thought it was me too..…." Vic ran her fingers over the smooth ceramic, fighting the fear that was rising deep within. "Maggie, could this still happen? Is he coming for me?"

Maggie shook her head, covering her mouth. "I don't know, Vic, I don't understand this message! It's saying it's already happened, but you're here, so who else is the queen? Who did The Wraith take, and why?"

Vic shook her crimped, shaggy short brown hair, touching her forehead again. "Oh God-"

"No, don't go there, Vic, it's not your parents, I talked to them both, they're fine."

Vic let out a deep breath of relief, hugging her arms to her chest, feeling cold again. "Yeah, who am I kiddin'? He wouldn't take them. They'd kill each other, before Manx ever got the chance. He musta really hated his folks, huh?"

Vic focused hard, burying her face in her hands, bringing her knees up as she sat on the ground. All the other times, Maggie's scrabble tiles had called her, "The Brat." Why change now? Why only part of her last name? Maybe it wasn't a name at all, maybe the tiles meant a real queen, not that there were many of those, knocking around in Haverhill, but-

Vic's hands fell away from her face, her eyes wide, a single word on her lips, and she said it out loud with all the fear it deserved.

"Christmasland."

"What? Wh-what about Christmasland?"

"Maggie pick up your tiles, get ready to ask another question."

Vic stood up slowly as Maggie gathered her tiles back into her purple velvet back, her arm disappearing into it like Mary Poppins, digging around for the next set.

"Queen, like Queen of a Castle, right? What is Charlie Manx's Castle?"

"Christmasland." They both said in unison, looking at each other.

Maggie closed her eyes, focusing her mind, letting the tiles pass through her fingers, combing through them, her voice steady.

"Who is the Queen of Christmasland?" She asked, pulling out her selected tiles, quickly arranging them and Vic watched the name appear in the dirt like magic.

ALLYSSA MANX

#nos4a2 #charlie manx #vic mcqueen #christmasland #charlie manx x oc #paradise for the lost #maggie lee

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corpsetsang · 5 years ago

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💍 Charlie and Leia

WEDDING HEADCANONS | CLOSED.

where they get married: The Plaza Hotel. If CHARLIE and LEIA are getting married, you can’t tell me it wouldn’t be the most extra of all extra weddings ever.when they get married (ie what time of day, what month and season etc. ): Spring, early afternoon, probably sometime in April, y’know, just before NYC is too disgustingly hot to enjoy.what traditions they include (do they get married under a chuppah and crush a glass, garter toss, ‘something borrowed, something blue,’ etc. ): I have a feeling Leia is very into weddings (Charlie doesn’t have much of an opinion, tbh, but she does love party planning) so I’m sure she’d want to cover all bases. I know nothing of Jewish wedding traditions but I’d assume Leia’s family would push for some?what their wedding cake looks like: It’s huge, it’s pastel pink, and it’s dusted in edible glitter, obvi.….who smashes cake into whose face: This has Leia written all over it.who proposed to who first: Leia probably initially brings up the idea of getting married and they talk it over and the conversation ends with a not-so-subtle hint that she wants to be proposed to. Charlie takes it and runs with it. who walks down the aisle and who waits at the altar ( or neither ): I can see them making a grand entrance together and both walking down the aisle. what their wedding dresses / suits / other look like: Charlie wears a simple but well-fitted sheath dress with lace details. Leia obviously picks out the biggest princess gown of her dreams.what their wedding colour scheme is and what sort of decor they have: Pastel pink and champagne. Everything matches their color scheme down to the upholstery on the chairs and there are giant flower arrangements everywhere you turn. They have lanterns at the center of their table centerpieces and of course the venue is already decked out in giant, sparkly chandeliers. what flowers are in the bouquet ( if applicable. bonus: what do the flowers mean? ): Cala lilies. This is the one thing they keep simple. what their vows are ( eg poetry, traditional, improvised etc. ): They keep these traditional but read each other the vows they wrote on their own later on in private because they’re cute like that.if anyone’s late to the wedding: Two native New York families coming together? Everyone is late with the exception of probably one of Charlie’s sisters.who’s in the bridal parties / groomsmen / other: Their siblings and probably a few close friends.what their bridal party / groomsmen / other are wearing: Dresses are simple, silky, and champagne-colored, suits are charcoal grey with pink ties and pocket squares.who gives speeches at the reception ( bonus: what do they say? recount a sweet memory or two between them? tell an embarrassing story? ): Kirk probably says something really sweet. Charlie’s sisters embarrass the fuck out of her because they’re the worst.who catches the bouquet( s ): There are so many people at this god damned wedding that they probably can’t even see who catches them. Both bouquets are quietly returned by the end of the night. what their wedding photos are like ( are they sweet, with the couple holding hands or kissing or ~gazing into each others eyes~? are they silly, with a snapshot of the ‘cake-smash’ moment? or are they artistic, with one of them facing the sunset or holding their bouquets? ): They start out perfectly planned, posed and Pinterest-worthy but get continually goofier as the night goes on.what sort of food they have at the reception: Shit’s fancy. Alcohol is seemingly unlimited. They each probably have cocktails created for and named after them. There are a lot of sweets.who cries first during the ceremony: Leia 100%.how wild their reception gets: The reception is (relatively) tame for their family’s and the venue’s sake. The after-party they throw in a separate location for all their friends, however... That goes until the sun comes up.what their rings are like: Big. Sparkly. Diamonds all around.what sort of favours they have ( heart shaped sparklers, mini champagne bottles, personalised candy etc. ): Macarons from Ladurée that match their color scheme and are wrapped up in cute little boxes with their initals on them.where they go for their honeymoon: As if they weren’t extravagant enough with the wedding, they spend a week on the Amalfi coast for their honeymoon, courtesy of Charlie’s parents.something memorable that happens during the party / ceremony ( do they run out of ice and someone goes to get it in full formal wear on foot, does anyone fall asleep in the middle of the party, etc. ): Several people crash the reception and most get away with it-- they only find out because Charlie’s oldest sister ends up going home with one of the crashers.who officiates the ceremony: A rabbi/clergy/cantor/whatever that knows Leia’s family well so her mom probably insists on it. Charlie’s family isn’t religious at all so she just shrugs and goes along with it.what song their first dance is to: This is a surprisingly hard one. Maybe Charlie writes something instrumental and all their musician/theatre friends come together to play it for their first dance. Adorable.who gives who away as they walk down the aisle: This is the one tradition they don’t stick to-- they walk down the aisle hand in hand together. Cute.

#the most over the top wedding of the century and i'm obsessed #answered: charlie coleman #ship: charlie coleman and leia levine #xleialevinex

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patiencetaught · 5 years ago

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💍 + Clyde x Jenny (hypothetically)

wedding headcanons for @daggermechanic | accepting

This is for their verse where they met when he was younger. Because tbh, I doubt he’d marry her in any other verse…

where they get married: I think we talked about this, but I see it very likely that they kind of just do a courthouse wedding.

when they get married ( ie what time of day, what month and season etc. ): Uh...I could kinda see it happening in late spring? Like, June? Sometime in early to mid-afternoon.

what traditions they include ( do they get married under a chuppah and crush a glass, garter toss, ‘something borrowed, something blue,’ etc. ): Because their wedding is so lowkey (and non-traditional), I doubt they do most of the traditions that really come with a wedding. He teases her about the garter toss and she definitely wears one, but that’s more for his benefit than anyone else’s, so she’s not tossing it anywhere. He definitely carries her over the threshold when they get back to the apartment, but I don’t really see it being much more extensive than that. Like I said, it’s lowkey.

what their wedding cake looks like: A lil’ homemade cake for the two of them and the like, three other people they invite. She gets a wedding cake topper just ‘cause, but it’s nothing really special. Something like this?

….who smashes cake into whose face: Jenny does it first and he definitely follows because she started it

who proposed to who first: Hard to say. I mean, Clyde did the formal proposing, but I feel like Jenny might have brought it up to him before that?

who walks down the aisle and who waits at the altar ( or neither ): Neither. Again, courthouse wedding.

what their wedding dresses / suits / other look like: Jenny’s dress is gonna be pretty simple and pretty. It’ll be white, but it probably won’t be a full-on wedding dress. Probably something like this. As for Clyde, I don’t really know? I could see him renting a suit or borrowing one because it’s his wedding and like...it’ll make his wife happy. But I don’t think he’d be super caught up on how it looked. So, it would probably just be like, a nice pair of pants, a dress shirt, a sports coat, and a tie. Likely in black.

what their wedding colour scheme is and what sort of decor they have: Lmao. There’s no real coordination, given so little is done in terms of decorations. Things are mostly in white and black with random pops of color, like his tie or her flowers. Nothing terribly organized.

what flowers are in the bouquet ( if applicable. bonus: what do the flowers mean? ): uh...sunflowers, probably. Wildflowers in general.

what their vows are ( eg poetry, traditional, improvised etc. ): Improvised. Well, less improvised for her, but it’s nothing terribly formal. They might not even do them at the courthouse, but maybe they end up doing it between the two of them once they were alone. I’m not totally sure.

if anyone’s late to the wedding: Nope!

who’s in the bridal parties / groomsmen / other: Uh...not really applicable.

what their bridal party / groomsmen / other are wearing: See above.

who gives speeches at the reception ( bonus: what do they say? recount a sweet memory or two between them? tell an embarrassing story? ): I don’t really think anyone would give a speech, given that the ceremony would be so small and neither of them really have a wedding party. They’re not really that kind of couple.

who catches the bouquet( s ): A poor clerk at the courthouse who was not even involved, Jenny’s aim is just terrible.

what their wedding photos are like ( are they sweet, with the couple holding hands or kissing or ~gazing into each others eyes~? are they silly, with a snapshot of the ‘cake-smash’ moment? or are they artistic, with one of them facing the sunset or holding their bouquets? ): I honestly just think Jenny would get a friend who does photography on the side to take their pictures? So, I don’t really feel like there would be lots of them to begin with. But, I feel that most of them would be sweet because these two are disgustingly in love. Just, him kissing her on the cheek or holding her or just?? Lovin’ on his girl.

what sort of food they have at the reception: Something that Jenny cooked beforehand. Probably pasta or chicken with a fruit salad and a veggie platter. I’m telling you...lowkey.

who cries first during the ceremony: Do you want to guess?

how wild their reception gets ( who dances the best, who gets drunk first, etc. ): lmao, not wild at all. They probably have some of her work friends over for some food and drinks and cake, but I doubt it’s anything wild. Everyone is probably gone before seven in the evening. And they just sort of spend the rest of the evening together.

what their rings are like: Nothing wild. I could kind of see her putting him in charge of it because she thinks he’ll be able to pick out a set that he likes easier than she will? As a result, he probably picks something lovely and dainty for his lovely and dainty bride, with something a little bit more masculine for him? Ballpark, something like this or this? (Bonus: He proposes with his mother’s engagement ring)

what sort of favours they have ( heart shaped sparklers, mini champagne bottles, personalised candy etc. ): N/A

where they go for their honeymoon: A little cabin at one of the state parks. Nothing fancy, but a vacation from work and responsibilities, which is welcomed by them both.

something memorable that happens during the party / ceremony ( do they run out of ice and someone goes to get it in full formal wear on foot, does anyone fall asleep in the middle of the party, etc. ): Not really? Nothing was super eventful except for Clyde thinking he might have lost the rings. But he didn’t tell Jenny that until afterwards. So, nothing crazy in the moment.

who officiates the ceremony: Civil ceremony officiant. Probably a judge or a clerk.

what song their first dance is to: Okay, but I bet they just look through Jenny’s record collection and they try to pick one together because they didn’t think this far ahead when they were planning. Probably went with something classic. Sinatra, maybe?

who gives who away as they walk down the aisle: N/A

#daggermechanic #❝ one should avoid confrontation when possible ❞ ⟨ asks ⟩#♥.·:* give to me your leather ; take from me my lace ⟨ JENNY && CLYDE ⟩

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thatsdevilstears-a · 3 years ago

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thenotsoelegantswan:

FLASHBACK: Hogwarts Express 1972.

“Oh, I’m sure it’s not.” Emma was quick to add, her features apologetic. She didn’t mean to sound so judgemental, perhaps she shouldn’t have been so quick to believe everything she had read in books. “And so will you.” She returned with a soft warm smile. Regina was the first fellow first year Emma had spoken to since their journey began, an interaction she hoped would blossom into a friendship.

Emma giggled lightly at Regina’s reaction to her pitiful bag of snacks. Throwing it to the side, she watched curiously as the old lady began to gather the order Regina had given. Excitement lit up emerald orbs, a grin plastered on her features, Emma didn’t know where to even begin. “Does every flavour mean like.. all flavours?” She questioned with a tilt of her head, looking down at the box of beans in her hands. It was curious, but she assumed it would mean fruit flavours like in the muggle world. Placing a bean into her mouth, at first it didn’t have much of a taste then seconds later, it hit her taste buds hard. “Eww!” Her face winced, swallowing the bean as quick as she could. “Yep definitely not your typical flavours.” She informed, the taste lingering disgustingly in her mouth. The remainder of the journey the two had tasted everything Regina had purchased from the trolley, the chocolate frog most definitely Emma’s favourite simply because of the card that was homed inside the box. They chatted and giggled for what seemed like hours, Emma truly thankful she had someone to enjoy the journey with.

Now changed into their robes, the train began to slow. This was it, this was the beginning of something truly magical and wonderful. “Come on!” She grabbed the brunettes hand, practically trailing her out of the cabin and onto the platform. A horde of students passed them, a voice calling for all first years to follow them. During the short walk, Emma kept close to Regina. “I really hope we don’t get split up.” She whispered, a little overwhelmed by how many first years were joining them.

FLASHBACK: Hogwarts Express 1972.

"I heard those everyone gather the cards joined to those chocolate frogs. They feature the famous witches and wizards. I wonder who we will get." This must have been so natural for so many kids, but for Regina it seemed like an act of rebellion. She literally could feel a thrill and excitement just to purposely do things she wasn't allowed to ever before. All the tension she carried on her shoulders was suddenly gone and her features so much softer and relaxed. Her excitement at last matching her new friends. "I guess we will have to see." Regina knew it was one of the most popular candies, so perhaps those had all the most wonderful tastes in the world? She took a green one as well and was quick to chew. Her face twisted softly as that wasn't what she expected -- a raw zucchini? She snorted, though, at Emma's expression of pure disgust. "Definitely," Regina chuckled lightly. "Let's see if the good ones are worth digging through the bad ones." Feeling so carefree was the most wonderful thing in the world. Even if for a second, just the train ride. But that was already enough. Emma made it so simple to just be... letting the true colours shine through and Regina began to feel in the pit of her stomach that Emma perhaps could become a true friend of her. A special friend...

Once the train stopped, Regina could feel herself tense up again. She swallowed looking at the Hogwarts Station. "Oh!" she gasped, literally being dragged out of their carriage. She followed Emma without a word. Once out, she looked all around with big eyes. Most first years hold onto their friends close as they were led towards the lake, it seemed. "I won't let go," she promised with a gentle smile and squeezed onto Emma's hand a little more. Soon, they both found themselves in the boats among other first years. There was around fifteen of them, five students per each. Regina never let go of Emma's hands, even when she was handed a lantern. "It's so beautiful..." she whispered then, looking up upon the large castle and the stars shining right above it. She's seen so much but nothing as stunning as the view of Hogwarts from the middle of the Black Lake.

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toopliss-chewtoy · 8 years ago

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Chocolate

For Valentine 2017, after a picture by @syndeh! Time for some Punk/Nerd AU! - J.

Size: ... words Warnings: n/a

Chocolate

They both hated valentines day. For years, it had been ‘single-remembrance-day’ for them instead of a day of roses and cliché love and dates and bad pickup lines. So when the heart-chocolate and perfumed letter infested day rolled around this year, they both agreed neither would pay any attention to it. No chocolates. No stupidly overpriced plushies. No movie tickets. Maaaaybe holding hands, if Jack could stop blushing like an idiot every time the punk so much as brushed his fingers in public.

It was their shared opinion that having a special day to show extra affection for someone was nonsense anyway. They loved each other already and they didn’t need cheesy cards to show that. You know, the meme-tastic kind with a terrible Voltron inspired lines.

Or rather, they did not need a one certain day in the year for said cheesy cards; Jack may or may not be sending those to his boyfriend all year around.

All in all, today was supposed to be like no other.

Except Jack hadn’t realized most of the school population 1) did not share their opposition to needless capitalization of love and 2) Jack was not the only one that thought Hiccup was as hot as Bob’s asshole after genuine Indian curry. With the bright streaks of colour in his hair and his love of spikes, the punk had a certain appeal.

When the white-haired nerd rounded the corner, looking for his unruly boyfriend, he was met with a rather uncomfortable scene. Hiccup was talking to a blushing girl, accepting a heart-shaped box from her. Jack stopped dead in his tracks.

Why was he accepting chocolate from her? He had a boyfriend, for crying out loud! A boyfriend with which he had agreed to ignored valentines day!

Jack could feel his blood start to boil. He didn’t want to interrupt, lest he said something stupid in his anger, so he fixed his glasses, turned on his heels, and walked away. He could hear Hiccup calling after him, but he made sure to be out of sight as soon as possible. He needed to seriously cool down first.

The white-haired teen avoided his boyfriend for the rest of the day. Was he irrationally and unreasonably pissed? Probably. Did he feel jealous and betrayed. Definitely. This was not what they’d agreed upon. If Hiccup wanted chocolate, Jack would have gotten him some! In fact, he’d been standing in the store, doubting whether he should buy a box of disgustingly pink candy after all. Because it did feel rather nice to not be single for a change, but he’d decided against it.

He considered calling off their planned time together tonight… but then he scolded himself for being so oddly mad about this thing.

He’d give Hiccup another chance. They’d talk about it and tonight would still be fun.

Jack waited across the hall of the workshop till the final bell rang. Right as Hiccup came out the door, however, he was approached by yet another girl. This one Jack knew. It was Astrid; she was in his PE class. She too had a nicely wrapped box for Hiccup, and again he accepted the gift with a smile. Then he spotted Jack.

If looks could kill, the punk would have been done for. For the second time that day, Jack turned around and walked away, but this time Hiccup managed to catch up with him.

“Jack, wait! Come on, wait up! What’s wrong?!”

The nerd spun around, eyes spewing fire, but he couldn’t find the words.

“Jackie,” Hiccup tried soothingly. “Tell me. What’s the matter.”

“What’s the matter?!” Jack spat. “That-” he pointed at the red-yellow box in Hiccup’s hand “-is what’s the matter!”

“What? This? What’s with it?”

“What’s with it?” Jack mimicked mockingly. “Gods could you be more oblivious! You accepted chocolate from Astrid! And and t-that other girl too! We talked about this and you agreed! Valentine was commercial bullshit and we wouldn’t do it and then you go around accepting gifts from any random girl!” Jack was getting out of breath from the constant stream of words. He rubbed his eyes under his glasses, feeling the embarrassing sting of tears.

The brown-haired teen tried to hug his angry boyfriend, but Jack pushed him away. “No. I’m mad at you, I don’t want a hug.”

“Sweet snowflake, please. Don’t cry.”

“I’m not crying.”

“Stop rubbing ‘dust from your eyes’ then. Hey. Come here.” Jack was effortlessly pulled into a big hug, despite his continued half-hearted efforts to push Hiccup away. It smelled familiar; like leather, and wood shavings, and that one deodorant Hiccup used specifically because Jack liked the smell of it. Jack sniffled miserably and finally hugged back, angry at himself for acting up like that and frustrated with everything and nothing in particular at the same time.

Hiccup gently combed his fingers through Jack’s white locks. “I’m sorry, Jack. I didn’t know you felt this way, and I’m so, so sorry. If I’d known, I would have never accepted those gifts. I just thought you didn’t care.”

Jack mumbled a reply, but it was too muffled by Hiccup’s chest.

“Can’t hear you, try again.” Hiccup chuckled.

“Why did you accept them?”

“Eh…”

“Am I not good enough?”

“Wow! No no no, God no. Jack, you sweet nerd… you’re the only one I love and I love you so much no amount of hart-shaped merchandise could ever be enough to show it.”

“Then why?”

“Free chocolate!”

Jack stared. “Chocolate?” His anger turned to confusion, and then he started to giggle. “Are you kidding me?”

“No, I’m dead serious! How can I turn down free chocolate? You know how much I love it.”

“If we buried you in a chocolate casket you’d rise from the dead and eat your way out.”

“Exactly!”

“So it meant nothing to you?”

“Come on, snowflake. Why would I care for them. It’s only their chocolate that makes me happy.”

“I’m… sorry.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I’m sorry too. How about we head to your place so we can open some of these boxes? Enjoy them together?” Hiccup kept an arm around Jack’s shoulder as they walked towards the parking lot.

“Sounds go- wait, ‘some of these’? How much do you have?”

The punk laughed and kissed his boyfriend on the cheek, getting a lovely embarrassed blush and an annoyed ‘watch the glasses’ from him.

“Oh, just four and a half.”

“Why the half?”

“I got hungry.”

#hijack #frostcup #valentine #j writes #fanfic #art by the awesome syndeh #thanks again for another wonderful collab #even though it was just a quick little thing #i couldn't pass up on rpnau!

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ooachilliaoo · 8 years ago

Text

Christmas aboard the SR1

“Merry Christmas, Skipper!”

The cheerful cry greeted her the very second she stepped out of her cabin Christmas morning. For fuck’s sake. She hadn’t even had coffee yet.

Against her better judgement, her eyes drifted to the mess hall table, where she was greeted by the sight of a disgustingly cheerful gunnery chief dressed in one of those god-awful Christmas jumpers. She’d even placed one of those poorly constructed tissue paper crowns on her head, just to really complete the look.

“Merry Christmas, Ash,” she replied dutifully, staggering over to the coffee pot and pouring herself a cup. She debated for a moment, wondering whether it was worth burning her tongue in order to get the caffeine into her system as quickly as possible. Then she caught a glimpse of almost unbearable festive cheer reflected in her mug. She took a mouth-searing gulp.

“So any plans for the big day?” Shepard asked, taking a seat opposite the gunnery chief. She noticed, with a sense of impending dread, that the Christmas jumper was complete with lights and the obligatory awful pun (which in this case was ‘nice baubles’). With her luck it probably even played some annoying little tune when you pressed something.

She probably shouldn’t be such a humbug.

Not that she was really a humbug! It was just… Christmas didn’t really mean anything to her. Not now, not really. It wasn’t like she had a family to go to or a home to be at. If she wasn’t on duty she usually just hung around the bar in Alliance Command. Some years she’d get lucky and some of her friends would be around too, other years she wasn’t so lucky. Generally, she tried to be on duty if she could be. Christmas on duty was roughly a thousand times better than Christmas not on duty.

Except this year, apparently.

She really shouldn’t be such a humbug.

“The usual Christmas on duty plan,” Ash answered her. “Call mom. Miss her home cooking while I choke down the tasteless dry turkey that only Alliance HQ can provide. Find a good bar on the Citadel… Hey, you wanna come? Drinks are on Joker!”

“On Joker?” Shepard questioned with all due suspicion.

Ash nodded, a grin spreading across her face. “Yup. He lost a bet. Told me he could rig the Normandy’s enviro systems enough to make it snow. Well, I woke up this morning and no snow. So, he loses!”

She wisely decided not to ask any follow up questions about the snow. It clearly hadn’t happened, and looking into the whys and hows would probably only lead to either a headache or more paperwork. Or both. Probably both.

“Well, I’m not one to pass up a free drink on Christmas. Or ever. Count me in.” Shepard raised her coffee mug in a ‘cheers’ motion and forced her smile a little wider.

Ash grinned. “Excellent. LT said he’d come along too, so…”

Before she could finish her sentence or Shepard could really process what she’d said, the man himself walked into the room, slightly staggering under the bulk of the large box he was carrying.

“It’s here,” he announced happily, dumping the box onto the table with a very solid sounding thud.

“What’s here?” Ash asked.

“Care package from my mom.” Kaidan’s eyes were glittering as he tore open the flaps and immediately attempted to insert nearly half his torso into the box. “Should be here somewhere…” His muttering was half drowned out by the sound of various items being shuffled about. “Aha!” He straightened triumphantly, a clear plastic bag clutched in his hand.

“Cookies?” Shepard was sceptical. Who got that excited about cookies?

“Hey. These are my mom’s Christmas cookies.” The lift at the corner of his mouth belying his serious tone. “And they’re amazing.” He cracked the bag open just a little, pressing it to his face to inhale their scent. “Smells like Christmas.” He reached in, seized a tree shaped cookie and stuffed almost the entire thing into his mouth. “Tastes like it too. You want one, Chief? Commander?”

When they’d both taken a cookie, he dropped the rest of the bag onto the table and disappeared back into the box. She was glad he had. She wasn’t sure she could take his smugness as she bit into the cookie and was immediately forced to concede that it was one of the best things she’d ever tasted.

“Okay we have… crackers.” Kaidan temporarily rose from the box in order to drop a mountain of brightly coloured crackers onto the mess table. “Turkey, ham and stuffing…” Three more clear plastic bags filled to the brim with food landed on the table. “Chocolates, mince pies, candy canes…”

Ash and Shepard stared at each other in shock as the table was gradually filled up with what Mrs Alenko considered the essentials of Christmas.

“Tinsel… I told her not to pack that this year. She never listens. Party poppers…”

Ash made a grab for the poppers as soon as they landed. Seconds later, Shepard was covered in sparkly plastic ribbon and thoroughly un-amused.

“Whiskey….” Kaidan continued “and ah, Canadian Lager. Good.”

“You know that’s not allowed in theatre, Lieutenant,” Shepard regretfully reminded him. She didn’t enjoy putting the kibosh on his Christmas cheer but rules were rules. (As she so often had to remind herself around him.)

“Actually, Commander, regulation states that officers can consume alcohol in theatre on Christmas Day. Providing it doesn’t affect their duties the following day. And the entire supply is consumed on December 25th.” Kaidan reeled off the paragraph like he’d been practising it.

“Challenge accepted.” Ash shrugged and cracked open a can.

However, Shepard noticed Kaidan was hesitating, waiting for her approval. She had no idea why, because hell, if he said that it was regulation she was willing to bet that it was regulation. After all, he probably knew them a whole lot better than she did.

Smiling, she gestured for him to carry on. He dove back into the box, with what appeared to be his customary Christmas enthusiasm. Seconds later he emerged once more, holding a large blue package.

“The annual Christmas jumper,” he explained, tearing away the plastic covering currently protecting the knitwear. He unfurled the jumper, grinned and began pulling it over his head. Shepard only just managed to refrain from rolling her eyes.

Once he’d put it on though, she had to admit that clearly some Christmas jumpers weren’t horrific. In contrast to Ash’s twinkly, gaudy, overly bright monstrosity, his was a nice dark blue and the only decoration was two lines of white snowflakes running across the broadest part of his chest.

He looked good. Really good. Blue, it seemed, was most definitely his colour.

“Nice,” Ash complimented him. (Shepard didn’t exactly trust herself to speak.) “We should get one for Shepard too, complete the trio.”

“That’s really not necessary,” Shepard drawled, her brain shifting from vague daydreams about Alenko in dress blues to sarcasm in the blink of an eye.

Ash’s face lit up, as per usual. The more sarcastic she was, the more determined Ash became.

“C’mon Commander,” she wheedled. “You should join in the fun. Right, LT?”

“I’m not getting involved,” Kaidan wisely replied, diving back into the box before Ash could cajole him further. When he resurfaced he was holding an ordinary looking OSD. “A recording of the Canucks game,” he clarified. “Which I will definitely be watching later and err… this… This is for you, Commander.” A faint blush coloured his cheeks.

“For me?” She was genuinely confused as she reached out and took the small brown box he was offering to her. “Why has your mom sent something for me?”

To her eternal joy the red tinge on his cheeks deepened. “I… er… I may have mentioned to her that you… er… didn’t have a family and, um… you said you’d never had a birthday present, so I guess she just….” He trailed off, his cheeks now a deep crimson. Awkwardly, he rubbed the back of his neck and avoided eye contact as much as possible.

She tried to be impassive, desperately wanting to try and hit his maximum embarrassment threshold, but it was hard to do when she was so incredibly touched by the gesture. She couldn’t help but smile at him. Not even a half smile, or her trademark smirk, but a real full blown smile. It took him a few moments to notice, but when he did he relaxed a little and then, he smiled back.

God, she loved his smile. Like her, he didn’t often smile fully. Usually it was the little half smile that she’d first seen in the med bay after Eden Prime all those months ago. When he did smile though, it transformed his face. He seemed younger, more carefree. When he smiled, it reached all the way up into his eyes, making them shine with warmth.

“I’m gonna see if the square stockings are here,” Ash interrupted, forcing Shepard to tear her eyes away from his, which, all things considered, was probably a bloody good thing. Staring at each other like that was a good way to end up in a frat regs related courts martial.

As Ash dashed off, he slid into the seat opposite her and nodded at the box in her hand. “Open it?” he said, a flicker of something that could be called nerves crossing his expression.

She paused for a moment, wondering what she’d find. She searched his face for clues before finally giving up and opening the box. When she tipped it up a flurry of packing material fell out and something hard landed in her palm.

It was a snow globe.

But instead of snow it had tiny silver stars.

And instead of the traditional Christmas village scene there was her Normandy.

“Do you like it?” he asked softly. Suddenly she became aware of his intense stare behind the snow globe that was legitimately taking up most of her vision and attention. She swallowed around the unexpected lump in her throat and nodded, unable to speak just yet.

“How did your mom get a model of the Normandy?” she asked after a moment, immediately wincing as she realised what an awfully stupid thing that was to say. “I mean, not that I’m not grateful, I am, it’s just… the design is classified so… how?”

The more familiar half smile appeared on his face.

“Dad must have pulled a few strings with his old Alliance contacts.”

Kaidan shrugged it off but she wasn’t fooled. She doubted that an ex-marine would have had the pull to commission a model of a top secret, top of the range, frontline warship. No. if anyone had done this, it had to have been him.

“Thank you.” she said trying to convey her sincere gratitude through her tone alone. A touch of something like panic seemed to rise in his eyes as he clearly worried she’d figured him out, so she added, “I mean, thank your mom for me.”

“I will,” he said as his hand twitched in the way it did sometimes. She liked to think that the gesture was the physical manifestation of him stifling the impulse to reach out to her. It probably wasn’t, but since she often had difficulty with the same thing, she liked to think it was.

Realising they were staring at each other again, she tucked the snow globe safely into the pocket of her BDUs and did the only thing she could think of to diffuse the tension between them. She picked up the nearest thing to her, braced her elbow on the table and extended her hand towards him.

“Pull my cracker?” she said, plastering her most serious expression across her face. He shot her the look - the half amused half weary look he shot her whenever she was deflecting emotion with dirty jokes.

When Ash returned she was still chucking at the horrendously bad joke that had come from the cracker and he was obediently pulling the paper hat onto his head.

“They’re here,” she declared, tossing a familiar grey box complete with a sad sparkly red Santa on it in front of each of them. “I’ve had Serviceman Burns hand out to the crew, but I’ve got ours.”

“Best thing about Christmas on tour,” Shepard noted. “A box of free stuff.”

“Yeah,” Ash said dropping into the seat beside her. “Doesn’t beat Christmas at home though. Right now my sisters will be arguing over whose present mom should open first while the turkey burns.”

“Yeah,” Alenko breathed, a faintly dreamy look crossing his features. “My mom always cooks enough to feed the five thousand; triple bird roast, honey glazed ham, roast potatoes home grown on the farm, pigs in blankets, stuffing rolls, homemade cranberry sauce….”

“Shut up, you’re making me jealous,” Ash said, shoving him and stopping his list of mouth-watering food. “My mom’s a terrible cook.”

“Yeah?” Kaidan sounded surprised that anyone’s mom could be a bad cook.

“Oh yeah.” A dreamy look now crossed her own face. “Dad was the real chef. The first year he was on tour for Christmas? Sarah cried. So mom made it a game, how much awful food could we eat? And whoever ate the most got the biggest slice of store-bought dessert. Now it’s tradition.”

Kaidan nodded understandingly. “Traditionally, we men-folk are banned from the kitchen until after dinner. Then we wash up before the game.”

“Medieval much?”

“Hey, you try arguing with my mother on Christmas,” Kaidan shot back. “I guarantee you won’t win.”

“I’m all for a traditional Christmas fight,” Ash replied, grinning from ear to ear.

“What about you, Commander?” Kaidan asked turning to her before Ash got too ‘into’ the idea of a Christmas punch-up. “Any Christmas traditions from… your parents?” His voice trailed off in the way that people always did when they suddenly remembered, mid-sentence, that her parents were dead.

“You know, it’s funny, I don’t really remember.”

She was lying. She did remember the old Christmas decorations, antique ones that were falling to bits and had no glitter left, but still went on the tree. She remembered the wooden nativity set, hand carved by her uncle before she was even born. She remembered… She remembered a lot of things, but she wasn’t about to bring down her crew with memories of her dead parents.

“But there was this one time my squad and I were in a bar…”

She could get used to this, she decided, hours later. A Christmas that was a mishmash of all their traditions. It had started with the terrible vacuum-packed Alliance issue Christmas dinner. That had taken care of Ash’s tradition of terrible food. A dessert of Momma-Alenko’s Christmas cookies while watching the game had taken care of Kaidan’s Christmas. And now the bar they were currently sat in crossed off Shepard’s one and only remaining tradition of brightly coloured drinks and bad lighting.

Most of the crew had joined them by this point. All of them wearing the poorly constructed paper cracker hats since Joker had somehow managed to convince everyone of their absolute necessity. Hilariously while most of them had to stop and replace their hat from time to time, Garrus’ fringe kept his hat on better than anyone else’s, and she doubted she’d forget the image of the tiny yellow paper crown perched on top of Wrex’s massive head anytime soon.

“Okay,” Kaidan announced as he returned to their table from the bar. “This is supposedly called a ‘Christmas Wish’.” He slid one of the tall bright red drinks he was carrying in front of Shepard and then paused, glancing at the empty seat that Ash had just vacated. “Where’s Ash?”

Shepard pointed to the dance floor where Ash, Tali and Liara were dancing up a storm. Shepard had decided against joining them… for reasons.

“You don’t feel like dancing, Commander?” Kaidan asked, that unmistakable glint in his eye telling her explicitly that he was teasing her.

“Not unless you do, Lieutenant,” she shot back just as teasingly.

He directed that warm little half smile back before grabbing his drink and sliding into the seat next to her, just a fraction of a fraction closer than he should have.

“So what makes this a Christmas wish then?” Determined, she turned away from his gaze and took a deliberate sip of her drink because damn he was close, and his lips were close, and despite this oh so careful line they’d drawn between them it was all she could do not to kiss him right now.

He took a sip from his own drink. “I think it’s mostly due to the fact that it’s red.”

“Ahh,” she replied knowingly. “That’ll be it.”

Kaidan nodded, relaxed, his gaze slipping from her toward their crew dancing. “There’s nothing like Christmas time.”

Underneath the table, his warm calloused fingers wrapped themselves around hers. She wasn’t sure whether it was the drink, or the fact it was Christmas, or the conversation they’d had last week about shore leave, but she was glad he was bold enough to do it. As she closed her fingers around his in response, she was forced to agree.

There was nothing quite like Christmas time with friends…

With him.

#mass effect #shenko #kaidan alenko #femshep #commander shepard #fanfic #kaidan alenko/female Shepard #christmas fic #sorry it's so late but I was super sick and super busy over xmas #mass effect 1

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