#the dress code is very loose and I want you to have as much fun as you can! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

svnoofy · 11 months ago

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SYNOPSIS - your entire life has been measured by christmases, specifically– those spent with the lee household. every christmas, it was the same, and your feelings for the boy you grew up with during those christmases stayed the same too. however, as time passed, a few things changed and matters of the heart become a little more complex. could it be possible that there was more to look forward to this christmas than just your favorite hot cocoa?

PAIRING - lee heeseung x fem reader

GENRE - romance, slow burn, fluff, an attempt at crack, light angst, brother’s best friend trope-ish, “she fell first, he fell harder” trope

WARNINGS - profanity, minor references to sex and inappropriate topics, heeseung being very much conrad-coded

THIS STORY IS LOOSELY BASED OFF THE SERIES: THE SUMMER I TURNED PRETTY

christmas at the lee household was something you looked forward to each and every year. so much so that your entire life was measured by christmases.

you spent christmases with your mom, older brother, yeonjun and the lees, conveniently because your moms were best friends. mrs lee had a son– heeseung, who you basically spent your entire childhood with besides your brother.

while heeseung and yeonjun had a close relationship from the start, you and heeseung, didn’t always hit it off. at one point, he was hiding your christmas edition barbie dolls because he was embarassed to be seen with them! (you didn’t blame him though– he was two years older than you so he didn’t get the hype)

but eventually, both of you grew out of the silly trivial things that pulled you apart as young kids and you found yourself enjoying his company just as much as he did yours.

he’s seen you through all your phases and vice versa. he was there when you were wearing pink everyday, your emo era and even through your braces and dungarees phase (which was literally last year) and to be completely frank, somewhere along the lines: you fell for him.

oh, and as if news didn’t travel fast enough: the whole house knew! and it has become a tradition for everyone to tease the hell out of you when he’s around. no worries though, he made it painfully clear that he saw you just as his little sister (yikes)

every year it was the same: it always started off with a family dinner, followed by cocoa by the fire place with some fun games to accompany— which repeated until christmas day itself, which, you thought, when the fun really began.

“are you seriously not going to bring any sexy outfits? seriously?”, giselle raised an eyebrow from your bed– supposedly helping you pack.

you shot a confused look at her, “babes i’m going to celebrate christmas with my family not a honeymoon at bora-bora”

giselle rolled her eyes, “if you WANT heeseung to finally look at you, then—”, she dangles a red, slinky, dress towards you, notioning you to add it to your luggage.

“tis’ the season you get laid babes”, giselle winks.

your cheeks flush pink, “giselle!”, you smack her leg.

“HEY, I’M JUST TRYING TO HELP”, giselle yelped in defense.

giselle gets up from bed and drags you to your standing mirror— “you’ve changed a lot since last year, and you HAVE to embrace it babes! i promise, he’s going to regret ever sister-zoning you!”, she hugs your shoulders.

part of you knows she has a point, but realistically, how much could you have changed? giselle was probably just being nice.

“y/n are you ready? we have to go soon!”, your mom called from the bottom of the stairs.

you gave giselle one final hug and you intertwined your hands with her in a secret handshake.

“promise you’ll tell me whatever happens between you and heeseung?”, she prompts.

“duh, you have my word”, you wink before lugging your bags down the stairs.

the drive to the lee family house was long and with your brother driving, of course you two were arguing over the bluetooth connection. yeonjun had presented the lame excuse of “needing it for gps”, when really: you knew he wanted to blast anime music that you had no understanding of.

“come on jun, just let your sister play her music–”, your mother notioned to yeonjun, who pouted at the mirror and sighed.

“fine”, he pouted yet again, earning a scoff from your mother.

you rejoiced, finally!, you thought.

you put your christmas playlist on shuffle and stared out of the window, the familiar neighborhood coming into vision amidst the blanketing snow.

your heart swelled at the sight of the people putting up lights, garlands and decorations alike: christmas is here again, you fondly thought.

as you drove through the icy roads, with last christmas by wham! playing in the background, you felt as though you were in a scene from a christmas movie.

when you arrived at the drive way of the lee family house, you were hit with the nostalgic scent of rosemary. mrs lee must be baking her famous potato casserole again, you thought– eliciting a grumble from your stomach.

“y/n, come help me unload our bags”, she taps your shoulder from the backseat, to which you quickly unfastened your seat belt to assist your mom.

at this point, yeonjun had long disappeared into the warm embrace of the cabin while you helped your mother unload the bags.

“soojin?”, you heard a familiar voice call out.

it was mrs lee– she stood on her door step, arms wide open to give your mother a welcome hug.

your mother smiles back before coming into her embrace– the sight was warming your heart more than any fire could.

mrs lee’s eyes stray to you for a moment and she almost screeches.

“y/n! my dear you have grown so much! she’s gorgeous soojin!”, mrs lee praised.

she went towards you and placed her warm hand on your cheek, “you’re in bloom, my snowflake”

mrs lee had a way of saying things that almost made you believe her.

she then notices the bags on the driveway, left unattended, to which she gasped, “let me get the boys for this”

she goes up to the door to beckon the boys out, and as you stood, frozen on the driveway in anticipation, you saw him, struggling to get his gloves on.

he had his usual polo sweater on, but this time he was taller, his hair was longer and it fell a little over his eyes– which had always been your favorite feature of his.

as you stood frozen on the driveway, your eyes met with his as he walked towards you. you felt your heart beat a million times a minute.

there he was, the boy you’ve longed for your entire life.

you stood there, across from him, as he took the sight of you in.

“what happened to your glasses?”, he asked.

“i don’t wear them anymore”, you explained.

he went around you to get your bags, lifting them easily compared to you and your mom’s efforts combined.

“i liked your glasses”, he leaned over slightly causing you to stiffen up, “but welcome back, y/n”, he pinches your nose– another familiar tradition.

he lugs your bag into the house and right as he reached the doorstep, he looked back at you, hands motioning you to come in.

“come in, you’ll freeze out there”, he says. you run towards the door at his invitation, closing the door right behind you when the both of you enter.

“so, how was everyone’s year?”, mrs lee asks, wine glass in hand.

“it was great mrs lee— i got into our university’s dance team!”, yeonjun bragged earning exaggerated and sarcastic applauses from heeseung, to which yeonjun responded by tossing a potato in his direction.

your mother shot yeonjun an icy glare as a reminder to behave, and he cleared his throat in realization.

“oh yeah and mrs lee, your son is a HIT at campus, he’s being hit on by girls left and right, it’s sickening!”, yeonjun remarked.

you were somewhat in a state of disappointment yet you weren’t surprised.

you had to admit, you always found lee heeseung handsome— but somehow, this christmas, your heart catapulted more than it usually did.

heeseung fiddled with the potatoes on his plate using his fork, clearly uncomfortable of the topic that arose.

“i guess— it’s because he looks so much like me”, mrs lee commented with a wink, earning a chuckle from heeseung– who was clearly unsure how to react.

you pursed your lips, avoiding eye contact with the boy across you.

“how about you, my snowflake?”, mrs lee asks– all eyes darting towards you.

“uhm..”, you thought about what had happened this year that was remotely interesting to share.

off the top of your head, you shared: “i got my braces off”, you smiled flashing your pearly whites, eliciting laughs from mrs lee and heeseung.

“no shit, dumbass”, yeonjun remarked, earning a kick under the table from your mom.

“yeonjun, be nice”, to which he pouted to, “come on moomm, you always defend y/n”, he flashes his morbid puppy eyes at her, only to earn a distasteful roll of the eyes from your mom.

“my snowflake has grown so beautifully”, mrs lee remarked, causing you to blush.

“thanks mrs lee”, you smiled at the nickname she has always given you.

you didn’t even notice the eyes that lingered on you a little longer than they should– from the boy across from you.

as usual, cocoa by the fireplace followed suit after dinner— and you were so excited to finally taste the best hot cocoa you have ever had in your life again.

as you topped your cocoa with a pile of marshmallows in the kitchen, you couldn’t help but overhear the boys chatting with each other.

“is that girl from school still texting you?”, yeonjun asked.

“uh i guess, there are a few of them”, heeseung replies, doubtfully.

“bro– don’t tell me you’re still hung up over wonyoung– come on man, that was monthsss agooo”, yeonjun drawled, earning a half-hearted sigh from heeseung.

oh, he’s had a girl friend before this, you thought– the familiar dreadful feeling arising in your tummy.

“i guess, but i don’t know– i feel like i still like her”, heeseung says, very much in the same doubtful tone he started with.

you don’t know why you were all sad about what you heard, it’s not like he was your boyfriend after all– but you couldn’t deny that it stung a little to witness the boy you like missing someone that wasn’t you.

you stayed up all night thinking about the conversation between heeseung and your brother – the name in the conversation repeating itself in your head like a mantra.

wonyoung, she sounds beautiful – you thought as you brushed your teeth.

after washing up, you sleepily make your way down to the kitchen, where everybody was. heeseung was with your mom, solving a crossword puzzle while yeonjun helped mrs lee with the pancakes for breakfast.

when mrs lee noticed your presence, she set her spatula down and rushed in to give you a hug.

“good morning sweetie, did you sleep good?”, she asks only for you to lie: “slept great, mrs lee”

you took a seat at the bar table, eyes wandering for the oat milk carton. before you could even stand up to look for it, heeseung comes up from right behind you and places a tall glass of oat milk right beside you.

“i know you hate cold milk”, he says with a smile– before walking over to yeonjun, who was trying his best to salvage his pancakes.

your heart fluttered at heeseung’s gesture, this was one of the many reasons you had fallen for him.

FLASHBACK

“which flavor should we get heeseung?”, a young yeonjun asks with a mischievous grin on his face.

the whole family was spending the day at the market– and although the boys were warned far earlier to stay away from the candy cart, yeonjun and heeseung had been saving up to splurge on candy the whole year! and with a little bit of will power, they managed to slip away from their moms– who at the time, were distracted by the attractive holiday candles for sale.

“i want peppermint and licorice!”, yeonjun exclaims, grabbing a fistful of each candy he wanted.

unlike yeonjun, heeseung was carefully contemplating his choices— but, before all, he reached in for the pink berry blast candy, which shocked yeonjun to say the least.

“ewwwwwww, you’re choosing pink candy?”, yeonjun gags earning an annoyed eye roll from heeseung.

“it’s for y/n, not me”, heeseung explains before continuing to carefully select his own choice of candy.

when they returned to their mothers, who were, to no shock, still at the candle stand– you stood idly by, noticing how the boys managed to slip away and come back unnoticed.

you weren’t one to snitch though, fortunately.

as you sucked on your thumb, waiting for your mom to finish indulging in the various holiday scented candles, heeseung taps your shoulder.

“i know you like this candy”, he hands the bright-pink candy over to you, a smile plastered in his face.

you were too young to understand what was happening right then and there but even little you, didn’t fail to blush at the kind gesture that was presented to you.

END OF FLASHBACK

the day moved rather slowly— the weather in the neighborhood switched between being gloomy and snowy, which made it hard to plan activities around.

you were laying in your room, folding your laundry, when you heard a knock on your door.

“hey loser”, it was yeonjun.

you rolled your eyes– “no, i am NOT going to fold your stupid underwear again”, you say almost predictably.

“what– no, i just wanted to say– heeseung and i are heading to a party tonight, and you have to keep it shut to mrs lee and mom, got it?”, yeonjun commands.

“what the hell, you guys are sneaking out?”, you ask.

“duhhh, do you think we stay in EVERYTIME for cocoa and game night? obviously heeseung and i are cooler than that”, he explains earning a gasp from your end.

“you’ve BEEN sneaking out this WHOLE time?”, you were exasperated to say the least.

“jealous, loser?”, he teases with a wink, causing your face to contort to a distasteful look.

“whatever it is, we’ll be back midnight, see ya loser!”, he storms out confidently.

what he doesn’t know is, you found out which party he was going to (the only party in town, which giselle took the very kind initiative of finding out) and there is no way in hell, you would miss the opportunity to rebel for once.

when yeonjun and heeseung arrived, the sight they saw was nothing extraordinary.

there were drinks, people making out, and music blaring from every corner.

“heyyy boys!”, the host, jake sim, greeted– giving each of them a dap in the process.

“great to have you back here this year”, jake roughly places his hand on yeonjun’s shoulder– simultaneously handing him a shot of tequila.

“i feeel aliveeee”, yeonjun exclaims after downing the tequila that was handed to him.

jake notions heeseung to take a sip, but he refuses.

“i don’t drink tequila”, he confesses– to which jake nods in understanding with an “ah ok”.

before heeseung could even decide what to do, yeonjun was off on the dance floor, girls surrounding him as if he were a magnet.

heeseung laughs at the sight before moving himself to one of the lounges, grabbibg a can of beer to pop open and enjoy.

unexpectedly, he sees a familiar face wrapped around someone.

wonyoung?

“girl, why are you dressing like a saint– how is heeseung gonna notice you when you’re wearing a literal nun-fit”, giselle remarked when she saw your quote-unquote “overly covering” outfit.

you were rummaging your bag at this point, before you found a rather intriguing piece of clothing– which you definitely never owned.

“is this yours?”, you dangle the red, slinky, dress towards the camera.

“YES! THANK GOD YOU FOUND IT”, giselle cheers in victory.

“yes bitch wear that– hello, there’s a reason i packed it in”, giselle commands, to which you hesitantly oblige.

after you slipped into the dress, giselle’s eyes almost pop out of her skull.

“OH MY GOD Y/N? YOU LOOK STUNNING?? I AM DEAD”, she jokingly motions– earning a shy giggle from your end.

the dress was indeed beautiful, you were just unsure if it looked good on you– it seemed way different than what you would usually reach for.

“if you’re even SECOND-THINKING right now i will smack you from my phone”, giselle suddenly says, as if reading your mind.

“please y/n you look stunning, like santa’s mistress but innocent and hot at the same time– damn, i suck at explaining but you look HOT”, she comments, giggling at parts, almost fangirling.

“now put on that red lipstick you bought and bam, femme fatale who?”, she winks at you with her suggestion.

you apply the red lipstick as instructed and when giselle saw your final look, she almost fainted.

she gave you her final best wishes and told you to put on your best heels– which in true y/n fashion – you forgot.

so, you just slip on your converses and carefully sneak out of the house, careful not to wake your moms.

now you just have to hope, yeonjun is too drunk to notice you were ever there.

when you arrived at the driveway, everyone had their eyes on you.

you felt a little insecure, walking in your dress and parka, into this completely new environment. before you could even make a step further, a guy stops you in your tracks.

“hi beautiful, welcome to my party”, he had a smug look on his face and you just smiled back and thanked him in response.

“have i seen you before? you look new”, he asked– technically you’ve gone to this neighborhood your whole life, it was just your first party.

“yeah, it’s my first party—”, before you could even say anything else— the guy yells: “WE HAVE A NEW PARTY COMER EVERYONE!”

heeseung had his eyes on wonyoung, who was enjoying herself with her new boy accessory.

he wanted to approach her, liquid confidence in hand.

but before he could even take a step towards her, he hears jake’s voice echo to the living room he was in.

“WE HAVE A NEW PARTY COMER EVERYONE!”

from there on, a good majority of the crowd’s eyes diverted to the door– where jake was escorting the new guest, arms linked.

heeseung couldn’t believe his eyes. you were absolutely gorgeous.

crowds cheered and whistled at your entrance, and heeseung stepped closer to where you were walking.

it can’t be her, can it? , he doubted himself.

he confirmed it was you when he saw your stained converses, what is she doing here?

you stood at the kitchen, unsure of what to do. there were so many people, yet you couldn’t find the courage to get along with any of them.

“i love your dress”, you heard a voice from beside you.

you turned to the direction of the voice, to see an angel-like girl next to you.

“oh my god, that means a lot coming from you”, you say with a smile.

“what’s your name, pretty?”, she asks with a smile, before taking a sip from her cup.

“y/n— choi y/n, nice to meet you..”, you prompt for her name in return.

“wonyoung, jang wonyoung”, she smiles.

wonyoung?, you thought– could it be that wonyoung?

before you could ponder a moment longer, the guy who greeted you returned.

“i’m so honored to have the most beautiful girls in town at my party—”, he slurs, earning a scoff from wonyoung.

“grow up jake, i have a boyfriend”, wonyoung rolls her eyes– did they get back together?, you thought

“i didn’t want you anyway.. it’s her i want”, he slurs, smirking at you.

you gulp, unsure what to say or do.

“don’t let him get to your head y/n, he’s just pussy deprived”, wonyoung said.

jake slips his arm around your waist, finishing the last drop of his drink. at this point, you were more than uncomfortable.

“what the hell?”, you hear an agitated voice say.

you look back to see heeseung, infuriated.

heeseung marches up to the both of you and right as you expect him to drag wonyoung away, he drags you away instead.

“heeseung, let go!”, you command. heeseung was fuming.

“what the hell are you even doing with jake? are you trying to fuck yourself over?”, he was angry.

this was the angriest you’ve ever seem him, which brewed similar feelings in you.

“why do you care, heeseung? i want to have fun too!”, you retaliate– attempting to walk away from heeseung to enjoy the party.

he pulls you by your wrist, “no you aren’t, i’m calling a cab– we’re going home”

he drags you with him into the sea on the dance floor, fishing yeonjun out of it, his grip still firm on your wrist.

when he successfully got yeonjun off the dance floor, he was wasted.

after successfully calling a cab, he drags yeonjun in and asks you to sit in the back while he sat at the passenger seat. the whole car-ride was silent. heeseung must’ve been really mad.

you admit you felt bad for ruining their night but: why was he so mad?

seeing you and his ex at the party wasn’t exactly what he expected.

however, what blew him up was seeing jake wrap his arms around you, sickeningly intertwined like lovers. when he saw what ensued, he lost all his cool.

he could barely register that his ex, whom he tried to approach the whole night, was right there.

the next morning comes quickly, and as he laid in his bed, he kept asking himself: why he was as mad as he was seeing you with jake?

it was confusing, he still liked wonyoung– he was certain of it– but even after seeing wonyoung and her new boyfriend smooch around for minutes on end, he barely lifted a finger.

however, when he saw you standing there, a little too close to jake, he lost every ounce of cool in his body and gained a new confidence that he never thought he could have.

you’re not crazy heeseung, it’s different because she’s like your little sister— it’s natural you reacted the way you did: his subconscious self tried to justify his thoughts, with the very same excuse its been using for years.

just like that one time you came to support him during his first talent show at university, and how you proudly cheered for him. his heart fluttered at that but his psyche silenced his heart with that very excuse: “it’s normal for her to support you– she’s like your little sister”

or that one time he felt butterflies in his stomach when you helped patch up an injury on his leg with your barbie first aid kit, before proceeding to make him a cup of hot cocoa– when his heart fluttered yet again, but his subconscious self convinced him: “siblings care for each other, this is nothing”

or even that time he saw you for the first time in a year, and when he saw you standing there, so beautifully in your dress at the party. again, “she’s just like your little sister”

he didn’t understand what was happening to him– could it be denial? maybe, but whatever it was, he wasn’t ready to face it.

at that point, it was a few days until christmas. the house was busy, with cleaners and workers running left and right–hanging decorations and dusting off ornaments.

you decided to help as well, helping the workers hang stockings and garlands around the house.

heeseung stood by the door frame, watching you help the workers decorate the house– a smile unintentionally creeping up on his face.

he observed how your hair was neatly tied back with a ribbon, and how your reindeer knit sweater, which he knew you got from his mom, ran a little too big for you.

you were laughing along with the workers, at a slanted ornament you hung.

a tap on his shoulder snaps him out of his haze, “yo, mom and mrs lee needs us to go to the grocery store to pick up a turkey for the christmas eve dinner so let’s go”, yeonjun announces– dragging heeseung away from the scene.

you barely even noticed his presence, too busy trying to fix the decorations you accidentally ruined.

on the car ride to grocery store, heeseung clears his throat to speak.

“wonyoung’s got a new boyfriend”, he speaks up, eyes on the road.

yeonjun’s eyes widen, “what? SERIOUSLY? i thought she only brought that guy at the party to make you jealous–”, yeonjun says.

“what? no–”, heeseung tries to explain only to be cut off by yeonjun again.

“i think so though! heard you had a new girl during the party– red dress and all! i heard everyone thought she was a hot take– too bad i was too drunk to notice her because we all know, she would’ve come home with me”, yeonjun smirks causing heeseung to cringe.

this guy would regret saying that if he knew it was his sister, he thought.

but hey, since yeonjun already ingrained that scenario in his head– heeseung might as well play along with it. plus, he could use some advice.

“yeah, i had a new girl but i don’t think i can like her”, he confesses.

“awww man, why not? you’re hot, kind of–”, yeonjun giggles, heeseung snorting in response.

“well, being with her is complicated– she’s beautiful, but i’m afraid i would hurt her”, heeseung admits, earning a scoff from yeonjun.

“you say that as if you didn’t date the dean of our university’s daughter but okay– come on heeseung, stop over thinking for once, if you like her, then make your move! don’t let your mind cock block”, yeonjun advises, hitting heeseung with a playful punch.

“alright then”, heeseung says, really hoping yeonjun won’t regret what he said.

“now let’s get this dang turkey”

the night of the christmas eve dinner came quicker than you expected.

the house was filling up with friends and family members, and it was finally beginning to look a lot like christmas.

you went down the stairs, dressed and ready to greet all the faces you hadn’t seen in a year.

you were surprised to see some of the faces from the party too– one of them being, wonyoung, which you assumed was invited by heeseung.

you waved at her, and the other people that were around.

“nice to see you again bub”, she greets, with a hug.

you’re not surprised why heeseung would date someone like her– she was so warm and kind.

when the dinner began, the adults were sat at the dining room, while the kids were sprawled out in the living room.

“i’m sooo bored”, jake complains after the dinner, earning an eye roll from yeonjun.

“you’re always bored when you’re not drunk, jake”, he retaliates.

wonyoung sat across from heeseung, which seemed strange for a couple.

“do you guys want to play spin the bottle?”, jake smirks.

everyone cheered in unison, approving his idea.

yeonjun grabs a bottle from the kitchen, and everyone forms a circle on the floor.

the first few spins were uneventful, the kisses being short pecks rather than long, deep, kisses– which earned boos from everyone.

however, when the bottle landed on heeseung and wonyoung, the air tensed up.

heeseung sat still, wonyoung the same.

“are we getting a kiss or no– OUCH”, jake groaned, when yeonjun kicked his foot– intentionally.

the air was so thick with tension– you began shifting in your seat uncomfortably.

“fine, let’s change the course— heeseung do you like anyone?”, wonyoung suddenly asks and his eyes widen.

his eyes land on yours before he could say anything.

however, right as he was about to answer, your mom called out to you.

“y/n can you please get something from aunt mijoo’s car”

when everyone left, it was late in the night.

you had trouble falling asleep, so you headed to the kitchen to make some hot cocoa.

you were shocked to see heeseung, still in his sweater, staring out the window.

“heeseung– oh my god you scared me”, you gasped.

he looked at you, his body slightly slumped.

“are you hungry?”, he asks, observing your actions.

“nope– i just need some cocoa to help me sleep”, you reply, earning a chuckle from the boy.

“you’re the first person i know who uses sugar to fall asleep”, he walks up to you and pats your head.

at that point, it was nearing midnight.

you opened the cupboard, searching for the cocoa powder.

great, you thought, it’s waayy on the top shelf

you sighed in defeat, your head hung low.

heeseung notices this, and he easily reaches for the cocoa.

“need some help?”, he offers the cocoa powder in his hand, a smirk plastered on his face.

you roll your eyes, “thanks, i guess”

he giggles, leaning back on the kitchen island– watching your every move.

you whip up your concoction, preparing an extra mug for heeseung– as he stood by, watching you.

“wonyoung is so pretty”, you suddenly say– causing him to choke on some air.

“suddenly?”, he remarked.

“she is though, i understand why you froze around her”, you giggled, eyes focused on the hot cocoa you were making.

heeseung was speechless, he wasn’t sure where exactly you were going with this.

“i mean i wouldn’t expect less from the lee heeseung’s girlfriend”, you bitterly applauded, which causes the boy to choke on his spit.

“girlfriend? where’d you hear that?”, he asks confusedly.

“she’s your girlfriend.. right?”, you tilt your head, twice as confused as he was.

“uh– first off, sure i guess she’s pretty but when i froze– that wasn’t the reason, second– she’s not my girlfriend, well, not anymore at least”, he explains.

when you heard this, you somehow felt a sense of relief – relief at the fact that wonyoung and heeseung weren’t together.

“what!”, you let out, sounding a little too happy. you cleared your throat and ask him again: “heeseung, why did you get mad at me during.. the party?”, you hesitated a little towards the end, flashbacks of heeseung’s anger replaying in your head like a broken tape.

“well..”

oh shit, he thought. he hasn’t quite figured out the reason himself– so, he’ll stick to his brain’s text book answer.

“because, you’re like my little sister, y/n”, he lies– he knows that, of all reasons, was not the one.

there it was, the very thing you dreaded to hear.

“oh..”, was the only thing you could respond with.

good thing your hot cocoa was ready! you poured two servings, one for him and one for yourself.

you took out all the toppings, and proceeded to add marshmallows to your hearts content.

“did you want some?”, you asked heeseung– but he shook his head no.

“but i’d like some whipped cream please”, he asks, extending his mug of cocoa to you.

you nod, prepping the can of whipped cream for him, skillfully giving him a swirl before you got a mischievous idea.

you took some whip cream on your finger, stood on your tippy toes, and smeared it on his face, “your wish is my command”, you smirk.

he gasps, taking some cream to do the same with you.

“hey! i just removed my make up!”, you shielded yourself from his attack.

“you started it!”, he exclaimed– chasing you around the kitchen, determined to get some cream in your hair too.

before you knew it, the clock bells rang as it hit 12 am, it was finally christmas.

the both of you stood face-to-face, looking at each other’s cream smeared faces for a moment.

“merry christmas, heeseung”, you greet, earning a giggle from him.

“merry christmas, y/n”

when you left the kitchen, hot cocoa in hand, heeseung’s heart beat raced more than he ever thought it could.

he had been trying so hard to deny it, but now he thinks he can finally accept it: you were more than just a little sister to him.

the wholesome scene in the kitchen replayed itself in your head until the next morning.

you even texted giselle at the crack of dawn to tell her what happened– to which she could only fangirl in response.

everyone was gathered at the living room, sat around in their pajamas.

“merry christmas everyone”, you say– kind of sleepy.

you joined your mom and mrs lee on the couch, giving them a big hug.

“don’t forget, later we have secret santa with everyone coming so, perk up kids!”, mrs lee reminded before she left to go to the kitchen with your mom, to which all of you responded with an enthusiastic smile.

“did you guys manage to get anything for secret santa?”, yeonjun asks you and heeseung.

you and heeseung nod in approval, “yeah, why? did you get anything?”, heeseung asks yeonjun.

“uh yeah– totally, i – yeah fuck it, i forgot”, he finally admits.

“it’s okay i can get a bag of cheetos, i don’t know– what do girls even like”, he sighed in frustration.

you laughed at his defeat, causing him to shoot a glare your direction.

“shut up, loser”

heeseung giggles beside you, causing you to shoot a glare at him. “ok, i’m sorry”

guests poured into the house, one by one, soon enough— all the kids and adults were sprawled out in the living room, getting ready to play secret santa.

unlike the night before, the circle of people who attended that afternoon was a more intimate group of people.

“ok, heeseung, it’s your turn– who are you secret santa for this year?”, mrs lee prompted.

heeseung smiles a little, shyly picking up the small red bag beside him, standing up to head to his designated person.

without you realizing, he made his way towards you.

“merry christmas, y/n”, he greets again, in his gentle voice, to which you shyly accept the red bag whispering a shy “thank you”– all eyes were on you at the time, observing the chemistry.

to be frank, everyone in that room knew how you felt about heeseung, and how much you wanted him to be your secret santa, time and time again.

this time you got what you wanted, and as you caressed the small red bag in your hands, your cheeks warmed up– heeseung’s gentle voice repeating itself in your head.

the day passed quickly and you didn’t get a chance to open the gift yet.

it was only when you had gone back up to your room that you had the chance. you undid the ribbon delicately, as if the bag itself was more precious than what it contained.

you took out the tissue paper that protected the small velvet box which sat in the centre of the bag. you caressed the velvet box with your fingers, your stomach brimming with butterflies and anticipation.

when you open the box, you gasp in surprise and adoration.

it was a necklace, but not just a random charm necklace.

it was a snowflake, each crevice covered in crystals, which sparkled brightly under the moon light which shone through your bedroom window.

you took a moment to read the card it came with, which left you smiling wider than you thought you could:

i saw this necklace at the store a few days ago and it made think of you– because you’re our little snowflake:) i hope you like it.

merry christmas, y/n

you admired the necklace in your hands, a smile creeping up on your face once again. it was beautiful, just like him.

you picked up your phone, typing up a quick text message.

you: thanks for the gift, heeseung. i love it c:

heeseung: no problem, i’m just glad you like it :)

heeseung: hey, it’s snowing out, wanna go build a snowman? ;)

you giggle at his sudden invitation. you put on the necklace, wrap yourself in your warm scarves and puffer jacket before heading downstairs.

you quietly snuck out through the back door of the kitchen, eyes looking left and right for heeseung.

your search didn’t last long when you felt a snowball hit your back.when you turn to the back, you see heeseung hiding behind a bush, gloves messy from the snow ball.

you scoff, rolling up a snow ball and hitting him in return– just like you used to do when you were younger.

“hey! ouch! stop!”, he squirmed, the cold impacting him more than he thought. you laughed at his defenselessness.

again, you stood across him, face to face– admiring his face, just like you did when you first arrived.

the snow was falling from the sky, gently trickling your jackets and hair.

his eyes locked with yours, and you swore time stopped.

“i think there’s something you should know..”, he took a step closer to you, anticipation brewing in your stomach as you looked up at him.

“hmm?”

“i’m sorry i got mad at you during jake’s party and brushed it off as me being protective because “you’re like my sister”–”, he apologized.

“truth is.. that wasn’t even close to the real reason–”, he begun, your eyes glued intently on him.

“thing is.. i never understood why or how i felt about you— and, my subconscious mind would consistently tell me it was because you were just my little sister”, he looked down briefly before meeting your eyes again.

“but, when i found myself missing you, thinking about you and your silly laugh when i crack my terrible jokes– and when i found myself infuriated at the idea that another guy could make you laugh like that, i knew that you were more than what i tried so hard to convince myself you were..”, he took your hands in his, eyes still locked on yours.

“how could i have been so blind to the one person who’s always been there for me.. from the time you patched up my little injury with your precious barbie band aids or even the time you stood front row during my first talent show— it has always been you”, he grips your hand tighter.

“so i was hoping i could be the one for you too..”, he nervously says.

“what do you mean heeseung?”, you ask suddenly, pulling your hands away from his.

at this point he was expecting his heart to be shattered– until you cut off his train of thought.

“you have always been the one for me”, you say suddenly– flashing him with the smile he loved so much.

before he could say anything further, you leapt up onto him, the warmth of your lips embracing his.

he smiled into the kiss, “i love you, my little snowflake”

you giggled, “i love you too”, you say briefly before he engulfs your lips in his again, twirling you in his embrace.

you have always loved christmas, but now, he’s given you a million reasons to love it more.

[ hera’s note ] – hello loves! merry (ADVANCED) christmas! 🎄 here’s an advanced heeseung christmas piece that i wrote while listening to taylor swift and sabrina carpenter’s new christmas EP HAHAHA i hope you all enjoyed this piece 🤍 please let me know what you thought about this one-shot and reblog it if you enjoyed it! i wanted to upload this early because i may be offline for a few days to celebrate this festive season :) anyways, i hope everyone will have a wonderful christmas, hera loves you! <3

[ taglist ] – @ja4hyvn | send an ask/dm to be added!

SVNOOFY 2023 © PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, COPY OR PLAGIARIZE THE CONTENT ON THIS PAGE.

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leclerced · 10 months ago

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omg I have been in such a Charles mood lately and he is SO friends to lovers coded pls!! like he’s so sweet and soft that you can’t help falling for him even though you think there’s no way he feels the same?

but he’s so protective over you and everyone else can definitely see it even when you can’t. like he always has his arm around you, always touching your hair, always holding your hands, but you’re just like … yeah we’re friends!

And maybe it takes you going on a date and him being all moody about it for it all to finally fall into place? you’re getting ready and he’s pouting and whining about this guy he’s never even met and you’re like ‘okay wtf is going on?’ and he’s just heart eyes and begging you not to go

ok sorry this was in my drafts i hope it feels cohesive idk where i was going with it but i think it turned out okay <3

reader is insanely oblivious but charles is practically all over her, ever since they met she never picked up on his flirting or lingering touches. charles has resigned himself to loving someone who will never love him back the way he wants, and surrounds himself with her to make up for it. he lives off the tastes of her love that he gets, like when she sleeps over because she stays too late and they wake up cuddled up together. or when she comes to his races and is with his team when he finishes and she's the first person he goes to for a hug. or how every time they casually say bye, love you! charles lets himself pretend she’s as in love with him as he is her. then he sees her again and is reminded of it when she doesn’t react when he tries to flirt with her or gets a little handsy when he's drunk. she’s so convinced that he’s just her best friend and that’s all he’ll ever be that when he flirts and puts his hands on her, she tells herself that’s how he acts with everyone.

she’s getting ready for a date while he lounges on her bed. he was cuddled into her pillows while she pulled out dresses and held them up asking his opinion, and he keeps giving unenthusiastic answers, or flat out saying she should cancel the date and stay in with him. then she pulls out a little black dress and says, “oh, i forgot i had this one!” and charles feels his mind spin at the thought of her in the slinky black dress of someone else seeing her in it. her wearing it for someone else. all he can muster up is, “i didn’t know you had that one.�� she misses the strange lilt to his voice and teases him, “well i haven’t worn it yet, silly. i’m gonna try it on.” she disappears into the bathroom and returns a moment later, holding the top to her chest as the straps hang loosely down her shoulders “charlie, would you mind?”

yes, i would mind. he thinks. he very much doesn’t want to zip up the dress so another man could take it off her in a few hours. but then she’s turning around and exposing the smooth expanse of her back, the zipper cutting off just above her ass and he can see a bit of red lace peeking out right where it ends. the lack of matching bra makes him clench his jaw as he moves towards her. he trails his finger down her spine until he reaches the zipper and he makes his way back up. as soon as he finishes and she turns around, she sees the look on his face and is immediately asking if she looks okay and he tells her she looks fine. she huffs and reaches behind her to tug it off, “thanks for the enthusiasm, you’re a great hype man! not like i’m freaking out or anything.”

his jaw clenches at hype man, and he groans. “mon dieu, what do you want me to say?”

she whines and bats at his chest, “you always tell me i look pretty even when i’m in sweats, and i’m wearing a dress i’ve been saving for something special, and you’re not even reacting. i can’t even return it anymore and you’ll hate me when you hear how much i spent, so just tell me i look pretty and i’ll have fun on my date tonight.” her hands spread across his chest as she speaks, her eyes locked on them.

his hands find her wrists and he wants to push her away and leave, ask her why she keeps doing this to him. her fingers dig into his skin, sensing he’s going to remove her touch, but he leans into it. “don’t go on the date. i’ll tell you whatever you want… i’ll take you out if you wanna go out, just don’t go out with him, please.” her eyes flick up to his and she’s doesn’t recognize the pleading look in his eyes. his grip tightens on her wrists as she pulls her hands back from his chest and she sees panic set into his features before she presses her hands to his cheeks.

his eyes flutter shut and she breathes, “okay, i won’t go. we can stay in, yeah? we can talk.” he breathes a sigh of relief and nods, “talk, sure.” a moment later his hands leave her wrists and he’s dipping to clasp his hands under her thighs to lift her into the air. her hands stay on his cheeks as he guides her legs around his waist and walks her back to her bed, telling her, “you look incredible, honestly, you do. i’m so glad you aren’t going, if you left me looking like that, god it would break my fucking heart.” she whimpers and her heart stutters at the admission. she doesn’t know what to say, speechless from the sudden realization, so she pulls him in for a kiss to tell him how she feels.

#ask #anon #cl16

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camping-with-monsters · 23 days ago

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Oops! All Spiders!

(Concept) Designs for all of Anansi’s sons for Spider’s Tag! They all collectively play pivotal rolls in their own segments plus the entire plot itself! I’m not sure if I’ll be changing the names since the original ones are very literal in their abilities, but I’ve gotten used to calling them as such so they might just say with the original names as “code names” or something. We’ll see!

Also a fun deal is that they’re all based on different kinds of spiders! I wanted to match a spider species with the abilities each one is depicted with! Don’t worry about the implications of that, I’m sure it means very little.

Trouble Seer is based on a jumping spider! Jumping spiders are skittish and quick and known for their jumping capabilities of course! Since Trouble Seer could detect trouble from far away, this is meant to play on the idea of “jumping into action” and being “quick to react.” In actuality, it’s not just “trouble” he’s seeing, but he has an impressive emotional tap in that allows him to sense all kinds of emotions from further. This allows him to prepare a little easier for situations. However, too much negative energy can end up troubling him too!

Road Builder is a Trapdoor Spider! Trapdoor Spiders are self explanatory— they hide themselves in a little burrow with a trapdoor like mechanism to sense and catch prey from within (Or something like that)! Considering the idea of this spider building a mechanism, I felt this worked with Road Builder well. He has a special spinning drill top he can use to break terrain down and even use the dug up materials for other means. He’s quick to craft and tie loose ends in. He likes to show off a little but is a great shoulder to lean on.

(Click for a better look!) River Drinker is a Diving Bell Spider! Diving Bell Spiders create a little bubble for them to breathe out of and even make a bubble web type of domain. They’re predominantly aquatic spiders! River Drinker seems to have some special filter inside of a self-weaved straw where he’s able to blow floating bubbles from the water he sips and then blows into the straw. He can carry himself with these bubbles, and sometimes even smaller critters or his other brothers. They don’t pop from the inside! Probably a property of his own niche.

Game Skinner is a Brown Recluse! Brown Recluse Spiders have a devastatingly poisonous bite that opens the skin up in an awful open wound (only look this up if you have a strong enough stomach). Game Skinner likes to gather resources from other places or critters to dress himself all flashy with, even creating little trinkets or masks with them. Is it genuine creativity, or an assert of dominance? Who knows, he just likes be flashy and maybe a little full of himself.

Stone Thrower is a Bolas Spider! Bolas spiders use a weaved “capture ball” at the end of a silk thread called a bolas to toss at prey to knock them from the sky. This fits perfectly with Stone’s niche of stone throwing! However, this appears to be a practice predominantly by female bolas spiders by nature of their larger bodies… for Stone, he doesn’t need you to know that ;)

Lastly, Cushion is of course a Tarantula! You could think of him as a Cobalt Blue Tarantula to be a little more specific. Tarantulas have a lot of fuzz to them— their size and subtle fluff works for Cushion! He is the biggest of all his brothers. Cushion is able to inflate his fluffy abdomen to make it more like a giant pillow to help cushion falls of his family, smaller critters, or even his own. He’ll stick his fluffy hands to his mouth and blow, which forces the pushed air to the abdomen to make it grow. Seems as if it’s entirely indestructible— not even a needle can pop it in its biggest size!

Huge thanks to @shroingushour for helping me match spider species to certain abilities and @pazam for some design help!

Also a bonus, Stone without the red dye! There are times where he won’t be dyed in the story. Dying his entire body red for outings takes a lot of work!

#SPIDERS!!!!#The Six Spiderling Sons!!!#Trouble Seer #Road Builder #River Drinker #Game Skinner #Stone Thrower #Cushion #Spider’s Tag #Tags of Whistlegrimm #ocs #original characters #original stories #art #digital art #character designs #character refs #technically these are still rough draft refs but you know it’s gonna take me forever to do all these #the kiwi draws

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kay-wren · 1 month ago

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youtube

I'll Come Running - R.C. - Chapter 72

Rafe looked in the mirror of the master bathroom as he adjusted his black tie against his white collared shirt, making sure it was just as tight and perfectly ironed as his father taught him. The time had finally come for this damn New Year's Eve party that the shareholders— and Jessie— insisted on having. What started out as a small intimate party that would be held in their new upper west side home was now a large event that had to be held in the grand Central Park hall on the first floor of the building. That was mostly thanks to Jessie inviting her overly extended family from the Manhattan Mayhem. That was a whole new argument that carried on the day after Christmas and lasted up until this very moment. Rafe clearly wasn't happy about the arrangement, mainly for fear of mixing too much business with pleasure, but Jessie insisted it would be a good way to mix her world and his.

"Charley!" Rafe heard the thundering voice of his wife through the bedroom as she walked into the bathroom to find her earrings she had left by the sink. There she stood, putting in her gold earrings. She was wearing a white, form fitted, strapless dress with matching silk gloves. Rafe couldn't deny that she looked stunning, but he peeled his eyes away from the girl in the mirror to focus back on himself. Like she had done most of the week, she dismissed him as she fixed her jewelry and put on his favorite perfume. God, she still was playing that game oh so well. She still knew how to break him down. Despite the two still not seeing eye to eye all week, they still didn't need words to say exactly what they were thinking... good or bad.

Suddenly he heard his favorite footsteps running down the hall and into their bedroom, stopping at the bathroom door to look up at her mother, waiting for further instruction.

"Come here, baby, I've gotta fix your hair." Jessie answered as she grabbed the toddler to set her up on the sink, getting the last few curls perfect. In the meantime, Rafe went to go grab his suit jacket, but not before giving a subtle but important reminder to his girls.

"We've gotta be downstairs in five minutes." He simply said as he walked out of the bathroom, not bothering to give his wife more than a glance. He heard Jessie mumble in simple understanding as he walked to his office. Before he could get there he ran smack into a blonde boy who clearly wasn't paying attention as he came out of Charley's room.

"Woah! Dude, sorry." JJ exclaimed with a small chuckle as he bounced off the slightly taller figure, adjusting the cuffs of his white button up and the hem of his black vest. To his behest, he was dressed to the nines as well. All the Pogues were. If they wanted to be apart of a black tie event, they had to be in dress code, and that was nonnegotiable.

"Watch it." Rafe seethed as he shuffled right past his brother in law.

"Easy dude." JJ snapped back, grabbing a firm hold of Rafe's arm to turn him around to face his serious expression. "I was looking for Charley because I heard Jess call for her... do you know where she is?"

"She's in the bathroom with Jessie."

"Ok good..." JJ replied, now having let go of the man in front of him. Rafe took his first trudge forward but was stopped again by the blonde's words. "Rafe... just because Jessie's on edge about this party doesn't mean you have to be. You guys have been walking on eggshells all week... give it up dude..."

Rafe simply rolled his eyes and exhaled, blowing off the suggestion and walking away. But of course, Maybanks always got the last word.

"Rafe..." JJ said once again, causing his brother in law to look back with a locked jaw out of annoyance. "Partying... it's what you and Jess do best..." He finished with a shrug of his shoulders and a sentiment behind his voice that showed he was hoping Rafe would lighten up and let loose. Rafe could tell JJ wanted to see the couple genuinely have fun tonight. But Rafe couldn't help but feel like partying was what him Jessie used to do best. Nowadays, they were anything but carefree. Nowadays there were far more secrets, endless responsibilities... and one special little girl to consider. Still, Rafe blew him off once again and marched to his office.

The wooden door opened with a squeak as he walked in and found his suit jacket lying comfortably on the back of his chair. He quickly put she rest of his ensemble on and reached for his desk drawer. As he opened the drawer he studied the contents of it intentionally... his keys... his wallet... ah, there it was. Rafe reached down to grab the black velvet box that he had stowed away so perfectly until the time was right.

* * *

The truth was, when Rafe had sold Tanneyhill, before he had the house all packed up, he looked through his mother's old stuff once more. He knew exactly where Ward used to keep her belongings. Even though Ward of course loved Rose, he still felt it was only right to hold onto some things that belonged to his first wife. After all, she was the mother of his children. As Rafe rummaged through all of his mom's things he found exactly what he was looking for... her wedding ring. He opened the modest box to find a pristine gold band with a single, perfectly placed, four prong square diamond right in the middle. As he looked at the ring that he hadn't observed in years, he was reminded how much of a simpleton his mom was, much like his wife. Classic, timeless, and of course not a scratch or smudge on the thing.

* * * The day that Jessie walked back into Rafe's life he couldn't get the thought out of his head. Frankly, even before the Bahamas he had always dreamed of one day giving her the ring she deserved. She still had no idea where the first ring came from, but this time he had every intention of telling her from where this one originated. He just knew the timing had to be right... no, it had to be perfect. Despite the disagreements between the two of them, Rafe was confident tonight would be a perfect night for Jessie to receive the gift that he had been so anxious to give her for years. He had high hopes that this would be yet another step in the right direction. He stuck the box securely in his pocket.

As he was about to shut the desk drawer, he couldn't ignore the coke sitting there... calling to him, like it had been for months now. But Rafe was proud of himself, he hadn't used all day. He had hoped to be completely sober minded for the first time in a long time as he looked into Jessie's eyes to give her that ring. He also hoped to be that way considering all the guests he would have to impress. Being strung out, no matter how good he was at hiding, wasn't exactly the ideal state for him to be in at such a high stakes event. He wanted to be alert and ready for whatever was to come, and with known gang members mixing with ruthless business men, who knows what could occur, right?

Still, as the stress of the impending night weighed down on him more with each breath, he couldn't stop staring at the little white bag of cocaine. He narrowed his eyes, pursed his lips, and clinched his fist so tight he could feel his fingernails digging into his palms. He currently had one foot in each camp at the moment, trying to determine if he could make it through this night without at least a little hit.

Rafe grew only more frustrated with himself as he waged the war inside of him. He set his hands on the desk and hung his head and closed his eyes, looking for some relief, but he wouldn't find it considering the tension in his back was impossible to release. He popped up in an instant and smacked himself on the cheek, trying to get himself back in the mental game. He needed to stay focused.

"Come on!" He whispered to only himself as he paced behind his desk. He put his hands on his hips and exhaled as he looked one last time at the coke in front of him. Without one more thought, he snatched the coke in his hand and shoved it straight into the other pocket of his pants and walked out the door. He almost did the motions quick enough to convince himself he never did it at all, but of course, he wasn't that good at fooling himself. He grabbed his keys and his wallet as well, stuffing them into the same pocket.

Rafe slammed the desk drawer shut out of anger and determination, allowing the contents to rattle around aimlessly, still telling himself that he wouldn't use the drugs, but he'd keep them close by just in case. He cleared his throat and wiped his face as he marched out of his office, somehow even more pissed than when he walked in.

He walked down the hallway to see his wife and daughter in beautiful white dresses. He also noticed all the Pogues were dressed handsomely and ready to go. As he laid eyes on them he attempted to calm himself down and keep his composure.

"We ready to go?" Rafe asked as he close his hands together with a half smile. Everyone turned to face him with smiles of their own, each pairing off with one another. Much like during the gingerbread contest, Pope held Charley on his hip and considered her his plus one for the night, seeing as he was the only one without a date. Jessie was secretly hoping to get him a girl tonight.

"Yep!" Jessie replied with enthusiasm. Rafe simply extended his arm, allowing Jessie to wrap hers comfortably through it and walk in step out the front door and down to the grand hall.

- - -

Hours had passed and the party was finally starting to get just a little bit looser, however, not too much, considering this was still very much a game of appearances. Rafe made it very clear this wasn't supposed to turn into the midsummers after party.

However, that didn't stop Sarah Cameron from having a good time.

Jessie walked up to the open bar, where she found the teenager utterly drunk and laying her head down on the high top. She pushed her brows together in concern as she touched her sister in laws back to try and alert her that she was there.

"Sarah? Are you okay?" Jessie asked with concern laced in her voice. Sarah snapped her head up in shock, but quickly head her forehead and tried to regain her focus. Jessie could tell the room was spinning for her. She gripped her shoulders and looked a little closer at her.

"Huh? What, y-yeah, I'm fine." Sarah mumbled as she tried to lay her head back down on the bar in front of her.

"Sarah!" Jessie snapped, just barely over a whisper so as not to alarm anyone. "Where's John B?"

"I think he went to go get me some more wine."

"Sarah..." Jessie said with raised brows with clear worry across her face at how shit faced this girl was. Sarah opened her eyes just a little bit more, waiting for Jessie's next words. "You are at the bar."

Sarah looked around and suddenly was amazed.

"Huh... I guess I am... well then I don't know where John B is." Sarah replied with a slight giggle. But Jessie found the situation anything but funny.

"Sarah! You've gotta sober up! Rafe is going to kill you if you embarrass him or ruin this for anyone!" Jessie demanded, but by the time she finished her sentence Sarah was already out like a light on the table once again. "I'm going to get you some water... don't move." Jessie scoffed, knowing Sarah wouldn't dare to go anywhere. If she did she'd end up on the floor in seconds. She looked frantically around the party, trying to steer clear of her husband and stay on her mission to find some water and maybe even some carbs to get the girl grounded. Unfortunately, she was pulled out of her thoughts by stumbling into a man in front of her.

"Oh!" Jessie cried, trying to stop herself from stumbling back. Luckily, Rafe wrapped his hands around her arms to stop her.

"Woah, there, babe. Watch where you're going." Rafe joked as he held his wife steady with a beaming smile.

"Sorry." She laughed awkwardly. She really wanted to stay on task, but she knew now she couldn't.

"I feel like I haven't seen you all night..." Rafe whispered kindly as he stepped closer to brush some hair out of her face. He brought her chin up for her gaze to meet his. He had a genuine love behind them that she hadn't seen in months. He seemed... more clear headed... than usual. Jessie didn't know what to say, for she was too wrapped up in her husband's beautiful blue eyes. They seemed especially piercing tonight, and this time, not out of an anger or passiveness that was fueled behind them. "Wanna dance?" He asked with a hope in his voice. Jessie hated to cut the moment short, but all she could think about was how Rafe was sure to blow a fuse if he saw his sister splashed out at the bar.

"Uh... w-where's Charley?" Jessie asked, trying to look for any reason to go do something else.

"She's with Pope... remember?" Rafe responded, suddenly with a little confusion as he looked deeper into his wife's eyes.

"Oh, yeah." She replied with a nod of her head and looking down at the floor, feeling like she had been caught. Rafe decided to brush it off.

"So may I have this dance?" Rafe said in a feigned British accent as he cleared his throat and "fixed" his tie. The exaggerated action made Jessie laughed, and she admired the man who now had his hand extended in invitation. She took it with gratitude.

"Of course you may." She replied.

#drew starkey #obx #rafe cameron #outer banks #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #jj maybank #outer banks imagine #rudy pankow #fanfic #rafe cameron imagines #rafe cameron outer banks #obx fic #rafe cameron imagine #dark rafe cameron #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron fic #angst #Youtube

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demisexual-eddie-diaz · 2 years ago

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Kiss You on the Dance Floor -

A Buddie fic inspired by the song “A secret love song” by Little Mix

(Buck’s Suit) (Eddie’s Suit)

Bobby and Athena were having an anniversary party, and Eddie wanted Buck to be his date.

He wasn’t going to ask him directly, of course, but he hoped Buck would figure it out when he asked him to teach him how to slow dance.

Eddie was completely useless when it came to slow dancing.

“I’m Mexican”, he’d say “we do not slow dance. We Salsa!”

“Eddie, this is not a ‘Salsa’ kind of event. You need to learn how to slow dance.” Buck stated as they were climbing up the stairs to the firehouse loft one day.

Eddie turned around and looked at Buck in his beautiful blue eyes.

“Then teach me. If you know how to ‘slow dance so well’, teach me.”

The whole loft went dead silent. Even Bobby stopped cutting up the fruit to see what was going on.

“Okay, I will.” Buck says, poking Eddie’s chest. “Chris has his sleepover, so he won’t make fun of us.”

“My porch has plenty of room.”

“That it does, it’s perfect.”

“It’s a date, then.”

“It’s settled. A date.” Buck smiled back at an extremely nervous Eddie.

Ravi leaned into Hen and Chim’s space.

“Did they finally, you know?”

“They did not, my friend. They did not.” Chim answered.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.” Hen sighed.

“How?”

“We don’t know.” They replied at the same time, shaking their heads.

“We don’t know.”

Eddie couldn’t figure out what the hell he was supposed to wear to learn how to dance. He didn’t want to seem too dressed up, but didn’t want to look completely unkept.

He settled on dark jeans and a loose button up. He was pacing, worrying that he was overdressed when Buck walked in.

‘Holy shit,’ Eddie thought.

‘Holy shit.’

Buck was wearing his light pink button up with light colored jeans.

Eddie had seen him wear this a hundred times, but this time felt different. So very different.

“Hey, Eds,” Buck beamed up at Eddie.

“So, I brought a small speaker so we can hear the songs clearly and pizza and a salad for later.”

“Yeah, uh- that’s great. Thank you.”

Buck turned back around and gave Eddie a concerned look.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he laughed, “you’re going to do great.” He said, taking Eddie’s hands in his own.

“Yeah. I hope so. Can’t embarrass myself in front of everyone.”

“You won’t. I’ve got you.” Buck said, squeezing Eddie’s hands a bit.

“Come on,” he said, dragging him out of the house. “Let’s do this.”

Eddie was better at this than he thought he’d be. He only stepped on Buck’s feet a few times. It could be worse.

And as if on cue, Buck took his right hand out of Eddie’s and lifted his chin with it.

“Hey, stop looking so worried. You’re doing amazing.”

“Yeah.?” Eddie asked, staring up at those damn blue eyes.

“Yes,” Buck says, moving his hand back.

“Truly, you’re doing amazing. You also look pretty good doing so, if I might add.”

“Eh, I’m not sure about that. I just grabbed this out of my closet. You, however, look amazing.”

“If you say so. Are you hungry yet?”

“A bit. I’m assuming you are?”

“Very much so.”

“Let’s go in. Even if I’d rather do this all night.”, Eddie joked.

“We could, if you’d like. I was going to make you watch Brokeback Mountain again, though.”

“Oh, absolutely not. Never again. I can’t believe you made me watch that.”

“That so? Thought you liked it, cowboy.”

“Shut up.”

“Mhm.” Buck said, blushing.

If all of that wasn’t enough to get Buck to realize he wanted him to be his date, maybe this will.

They’re back at work the next day, sitting across from each other at the table.

“Hey, Bobby,” Eddie looks up.

“Yes?”

“What’s the dress code? For the party?”

“I think Athena wants people to wear dresses and suits, but as long as it looks nice, it’s fine.”

“Color scheme?”

“Spring, I think. Like pastels and such.”

“Thanks, Cap.”

Eddie pauses before looking at the man across from him.

“Buck?”

“Eds.”

“Do you have anything that would work for that?”

“No, you?”

“No..we should go get something to wear together.”

“Yes!,” Buck says excitedly, “We totally should. We’ll take Chris after school to that suit shop and get something.”

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

“We should match.”

“We could.”

“Good. It’ll be cute.” The smiling man said.

Oh come on.

He’s got to know.

Maybe Eddie’s being the

dumb one now.

“Buck!” Christopher yelled as he climbed into the truck,

with Eddie’s help.

“Chris!”

“We thought we’d go get something new for Bobby and Anthena’s party, mijo. That sound good?”

“Sounds great!” Chris smiled, buckling his seatbelt.

After about a thirty minute ride, they arrived at the shop.

Buck helped Chris down and shut the door.

“So, Superman, what color do you think you’d want?”

“Maybe green?” He said walking into the shop.

“That would look amazing. How ‘bout you, Eds?”

“Not sure, you?”

“Probably a light blue. I think it’d look good.”

“Me too.” Eddie agreed, smiling fondly at the man walking next to him.

“Can I help you?” The clerk asked.

“We’re looking for pastel suits. I think this guy” Buck says, putting his hands on Chrises shoulders, “wants green.”

“We can do that. And you two?” She said, looking up at Eddie.

“I’m not sure, he’s the clothing guy.”

She laughed and looked over at Buck.

“I’d want blue. I think Eddie would look amazing in pink, if I can talk him into it.”

“Pink?”

“Yes, Eds, pink.”

“We can do that too, just this way.”

Buck settled on this gorgeous light blue suit that Eddie thinks he’ll hold in his memory forever.

Buck said he planned on wearing it open with a somewhat unbuttoned white shirt.

He thinks if he sees him in that, he’ll simply pass away.

Buck did talk Eddie into a pink suit, but only because of the way he smiled while Eddie was wearing it.

God, why does he have to be so cute?

Chris got a simple green suit, but it looks good on him.

“Okay, so, we’ll go and drop these off at home and then get burgers?” Buck suggests.

‘Home’. Eddie loves it when Buck calls his house home.

“Sounds good, Buck.” Eddie says, while pulling his card out.

“Just the two, or all three, sir?” The clerk asks him.

“All three, please.”

“Eddie, come on.” Buck says, smacking his arm.

“All three.” Eddie says, turning to look at Buck.

“Fine. But I’m getting dinner.”

“Hear that, Chris? Order whatever you want at dinner. Buck’s paying.”

“Yes!”

“You’re screwed now, cowboy. He’s going to order the whole menu.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m sure he will.”

The clerk smiled when Eddie called Buck ‘cowboy’.

He didn’t think about how embarrassing that was, but the blush on Buck’s face makes it all worth it.

They leave with three suits and one tie.

A light blue one, to match Buck’s suit, for Eddie to wear.

They climb into the truck and head off to Eddie’s.

The dinner bill adding up to sixty-eight dollars, before Buck’s twenty dollar tip.

“So,” Buck starts, leaving Chris's room, “I’m staying here for the night?”

He moves his hands to his pockets, looking up at Eddie.

“Yeah, if you want. You know you don’t have to ask that.”

“I mean, it might be better if I get ready at the stupid loft. So I can surprise you when I get there.”

“I guess you could.”

“Yeah, that might be a better idea, actually. So you’ll have the room to get dressed, and so will I.”

“Okay, yeah. It’s whatever you think is best.” Eddie says, following Buck to the door.

“I’ll miss being at home for the night.”

Buck states, stopping at the now open door.

“I’ll miss having you here too. But I think you’re right. You like your space to get dressed into fancy clothes.”

“Yeah, I do.” Buck says looking into Eddie’s a bit longer than he should’ve.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, I guess.” Buck speaks up.

“Yeah, you too.”

They bring each other into a tight hug and Eddie smiles at the smell of Buck’s strawberry shampoo.

Buck pulls himself in closer before finally letting go.

“Bye, cowboy.” Buck laughs, turning to go to his Jeep.

“Bye, Buckaroo.” Eddie replies.

He watches Buck pull out of the driveway before turning around to enter his home.

He locks the door with a click, and goes into his bathroom to shower.

Eddie wakes at seven am, on a Saturday, even though the party isn’t until six.

He’d like to say it was because he got a good nights rest, but in reality, he got up because he was tired of staring at his ceiling.

He couldn’t sleep. All night.

All he could think of was Buck in that suit, and trying to figure out how to hide the expression on his face when he’ll see him.

He was also trying to figure out if Buck realized it was a date.

He still didn’t know for sure.

A few minutes later his phone dings and it’s a text from Buck.

‘Cowboy<3’: hey, you up?

‘Eds<3’: yes, why?

‘Cowboy<3’: just wanted to ask you

something

‘Eds<3’: ok, what’s that?

‘Cowboy<3’: •••

‘Eds<3’: Buck?

‘Cowboy<3’: is this a date?

‘Eds<3’: only if you want it to. if not, then

it doesn’t have to be.

‘Cowboy<3’: i want it to be a date

‘Eds<3’: then it is, I should’ve asked you

directly.

‘Cowboy<3’: you basically did, and so

did I, I might add. But I was

just making sure I wasn’t

reading anything wrong.

‘Eds<3’: you didn’t

‘Cowboy<3’: good, see you later:)

‘Eds<3’: see you later:))

Eddie and Chris get there before Buck does.

He knows this because he would know if Buck was in the room.

He’d feel it.

“Wow, Eddie, you look great. And you too, Chris. Buck isn’t here yet.” May says, walking up to them.

“Uh, thanks. You too. And tell me if you see him before I do?”

“Will do.” She says, turning to leave.

“Damnnn, Eddie. Look at you!” Hen says walking over, with Karen and Denny close behind.

“Yeah, you too.” He replies. But all is lost the second Buck walks in through the doors.

He has the top three buttons of his shirt undone, showing off his collarbones.

He looks like a Greek god, with his blue suit and bright eyes shining against the cream colored walls of the venue.

He walks over to Bobby, first, handing him a small gift.

Eddie can’t take his eyes off of him as he greets his other friends.

He knows Hen and Chris are talking but can’t hear a word of what they’re saying. Chris shakes his arm and he’s pulled somewhat out of his trance.

“Oh good, he’s still breathing.”

“That is good, Chris. For a minute I thought we lost him.”

Eddie gives them a weak smile as Buck makes his way over to them.

“God, Buck.” Eddie says when he’s close enough to hear.

“I guess that answers my question of ‘how do I look?’”

“It does,” Hen says smiling. “I think you gave him a mini heart attack when you walked in.”

“That was the point.” Buck says, smiling towards Eddie.

“Yeah, it worked.” Eddie breathed out.

Hen took Chris’ hand and they walked over to a table to sit down, and to give Buck and Eddie some privacy.

“You look really, really, really good, Evan. I do think I had a ‘mini heart attack’.”

“Sorry?,” he says, taking Eddie’s hand. “Let’s dance, show off your new skills.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll do my best.”

The first song is a fairly simple one. No real slow dancing required, which was nice.

A few dances later and they're smiling like idiots at each other, Buck’s hands on Eddie’s shoulders and Eddie’s hands on Buck’s waist.

Then the music slows down, definitely not by Bobby’s request.

The song Secret Love Song by Little Mix is playing.

Eddie loves this song and knows all of the lyrics to it.

He moves one of his hands to Buck’s shoulder and lifts the other one to meet him halfway.

He blushes when Buck moves his hand down to his waist and wraps his figures around Eddie’s hand.

He whispers a “this is what we practiced for” in his ear, and he swears, a chill rushes over his whole body.

He’s aware that the whole room is ‘not’ looking at them, but he doesn’t really care.

When it gets to the chorus of the song, Eddie shifts slightly so Buck’s head can rest on his shoulder.

Buck ends up wrapping his arm around Eddie’s back while Eddie’s free hand finds Buck’s hair.

Eddie begins to hum the song, and then, quietly, starts singing the lyrics to Buck.

“Why can’t you hold me in the street, why can’t you kiss me on the dance floor?

I wish that it could be like that, why can't we be like that?

‘Cause I’m yoursss.”

The song ends and they separate a bit, still holding each other.

“I am yours.” Buck says, looking up at Eddie.

“And I’m yours.”

The lights are still low and the next song starts, everyone around them begins dancing again. But they remain looking at each other.

Eddie places his hands on the sides of Buck’s face and brings him close to his own face.

He softly brings his lips to Buck’s and they melt into each other immediately.

They stay like that for a few seconds, before breaking the kiss.

“It is ‘like that’ now, Eddie. You kissed me on the dance floor.” Buck says, with a smirk.

“I did.”

“Do it again?”

“Always.” He says, giving Buck another small kiss.

“I love you, Evan.”

“I love you too…cowboy.”

28 notes · View notes

saigawrites · 2 years ago

Text

Title : Genshin characters as highschool students part 2.

Some things I forgot to mention in the first part😭.

Warnings : Mentions of vaping.

Characters : Jean, Lisa, Ayato, Ayaka, Yoimiya, Thoma, Amber, Heizou, Mona.

Tags : crack, fluff, general headcanons

Scaramouche absolutely violates the dress code, sees no point in it and always fights with whoever tries to scold him for it.

Venti either does follow the rules, or doesn't care about them at all.

Kazuha follows them but can wear a sweater/hoodie over the shirt sometimes.

Jean is the strict school patroll worker, the one who goes to every classroom to check on students outside look, if they have fake nails, makeup, or wear something out of the uniform rules. Scolds the students, but tries not to do it harshly, as she still cares about them🥺. Would never ever write someone to the list of consistent "bad" students,(yes we have those) unless it is something very serious.

Lisa is Jean's sly and more kind follower, who doesn't scold students nor follow the rules herself. She would literally violate all of the rules, but get nothing told in her address because of her status. The one that the students admire and call iconic.

Amber is the girl who confidently submits herself as the school president, wins all the hearts of the school and confidently wins. She is the really active school president who always tries to add something new and fun to those boring passing by school weeks. Like a no backpack day, or a themed party, she will always try her best to make education fun and cool for the students. Also the one you can always come to if you need help, or want to confess something. She will always support you.<3

Ayaka and Yoimiya are the two very popular bestfriends, both having connections and relationships with all the hype in the school. Yoimiya is that type of friend to always seek adventures and journeys and drag Ayaka along with her😭. Ayaka is comfortable with it, but just sometimes Yoimiya can be too much... The popular kids that are not mean and would always go out of their way if you need help. Yoimiya doesn't follow the dress code perfectly, but she tries, believe me. Ayaka follows it religiously, she would rather get in trouble with Yoimiya than to get scolded for the dress code.

I can see Ayato as two types of people. First, the more serious helper of the president, or second, a Math teacher that everyone has a crush on, even if sometimes he can be an asshole... Like you know those types of teachers that are nice, but strict at the same time? He's one of those. He teaches well, and communicates with his students well, but can and WILL demand excellent grades. The one to always scare you with talking about the upcoming tests and exams, saying that he will not help you during them. Though on the same tests won't take your phone away, or bat an eye when you try to look up the formula in the book or on your notes. Huh, where were your words about not helping us, Mr. Ayato?🤔.

Heizou is the drama expert, the journalist of your school that always asks too much questions. Hangs out with Venti in the bathrooms, vapes and one of those vapers who can't live without their flavoured air at least for 1 minute😟. Bro trades the single taste that he has with the whole school, really be oversharing that bacteria🤢. That one student who is always too interested in your private life, the wrong one giving you the right attention😭. Heizou spontaneously violates the rules of the dress code, wearing a hoodie above the shirt from some cool ass brand just to flex in the school.

Mona is that one astrology girl who always tries to advertise her tarot readings just to earn some money. The one who can never buy anything in the cafeteria, and always asks if she can take a bite from your food. Takes the biggest bites anyone has ever seen, literally eating half of that small ass food you bought💀. The girl that never goes to PE, somehow goes loose with Childe and always wants to play volleyball with someone.

Thoma is either a kind cafeteria worker or the friendly technician. The one to have special bonds with certain students and always greet them. The type of cafeteria worker that if you beg enough and complain enough can get you free water or even some food, but will get scolded by his colleagues if he gets caught. Would actually listen to your menu recommendations and cooking advice seriously, he would always try to upgrade his cooking quality just for you.

Phew, this was a lot. Some of them are quite short, and I'm sorry for that!! I'm literally writing this at night, so I'm kinda tired and maybe uninspired😩. I think a little bit of them might be too OOC, but pls bear with me!!!

48 notes · View notes

tragedyslayer · 2 years ago

Text

Neteyam x female reader! Part 4

I didn't feel like writing verbatim the Sullys being accepted into the Metkayina tribe, because I didn't think I would have much to add to the original script, and I dont think it's any fun to reread the same dialogue over and over again so time skip it is. Also like I said in part one I don't intend on following the movie very much other than the big plot points so I apologize if that bothers yall.

Also I've been writing for the past few days non-stop and have the next few parts ready! Ill shut up and let you guys read.

Characters are 18

Word count: 4,087

Part 3

I had spent the last few days informing Jake of everything there is to know from what the humans were doing on Pandora, to numbers and artillery. I spoke to Neteyams sister Kiri, she was biologically Grace’s daughter, but the Sullys raised her as their own. She told me a lot about my brother. It made me so happy to know he made real bonds with these people, I could tell Kiri genuinely cared for him.

With every second of our free time me and Neteyam found ourselves together. He showed me their way of life, how things worked, how I could fit in. He spoke as if I would never leave, I knew that wasn’t realistic, though I didn't mind pretending.

I was helping wash clothes with Kiri and she pulled at my cotton army green shirt.

“How long have you been wearing that?”

Tuk was sitting with us, not helping much but I don't think either of us minded. The blue child giggled at Kiri’s question. I grimaced, looking down at my clothes.

“A while.”

I admitted dryly and Kiri shook her head, grabbing my hand.

“Well if you are staying, you should look the part.”

The two girls led me away, I waited outside with Tuk as Kiri entered a tent. She returned with a handful of cloth, which was apparently my new wardrobe. Kiri laughed at my unsure expression,

“I know it's not what you're used to, but it will be soon enough.”

I smiled, trying my best to not seem totally off put by their dress code. It wasn’t that I had an issue with modesty, I just never in my life exposed so much skin.

Our next stop was Kiris tent. She assured me she would wait outside as she handed me my new clothes.

The top resembled a bralette made of black leather. The band that wrapped around my ribcage was woven, it was strapless. At first I assumed it wouldn’t hold, but I should have known the hand made Na’vi clothing fits better than the 3 dollar tube top from earth I attempted to wear once.

I slipped the thin leather band over my hips that supported another black leather cloth. The monochromatic clothing did not go unappreciated, I smiled down at myself. Wearing Na’vi clothing meant more to me than I expected it to.

“I'm ready”

Kiri walked into her tent and gasped, smiling at my new appearance.

“ Na’rìng (beautiful)”

I smiled back at her, flattered at the compliment. I looked down to her hands, she was holding a gun holster, a bow and arrow holder, and a few other things I wasn't able to identify.

“I brought you replacements, in case you didn't want to use your old stuff.”

She handed me the various objects and my heart melted, she was so sweet. I could tell she genuinely wanted me to feel welcomed. Kiri moved behind my back and slipped a necklace around my neck. It was a thin choker, it resembled the one Neytiri wore. Before I could thank her she slipped an armband up my arm, it matched the necklace from what I could tell.

“Kiri thank you, truly this is all too much.”

She shook her head, brushing off the thanks.

“Its nothing, I dress up Tuk all the time, it was fun to have a differently sized model. Now sit down.”

My smile faded into confusion, but I compiled without a complaint.

Kiri sat behind me, and Tuk joined her. When making our Avatars they try not to change us from our human for too much, so my hair was almost identical to how I had it as a human. I simply opted to have it pulled back into a ponytail, the braid connected to my queue hanging much lower than my loose strands.

“Do you mind?”

Kiri asked, touching the hair band that held my ponytail together, I shook my head.

“Not at all.”

Kiri left most of my hair down, she probably assumed it would be an easier transition for me than completely braided hair, but I didn't ask. She took two braids, one starting from each side of my forehead, and connected them in the back of my head. She did the same with two more braids, taking the hair from behind my ears. The four braids came together to connect to my queue. All my hair was pulled away from my face, besides a few rogue baby hairs that Kiri made thick enough to string jewelry onto. The rest of my hair went down to my shoulder blades, the braids rested on top.

I couldn't stop smiling as Kiri did my hair, It made me feel put together. This entire process made me feel like more of a true Na’vi, even if I never would be.

“Your hair is so soft, it was so easy to work with.”

I laughed, turning to look at Kiri.

“I'm glad it didn't give you trouble”

We both stood and I hugged Kiri, thanking her again before letting go.

“Alright I know you have things to do.”

I took that as her form of dismissal, so I smiled before exiting her tent.

It seemed to be a little later than mid day, I hoped I’d get better at telling the time from the position of the sun alone. It was nice not standing out like a sore thumb, I could feel a substantial decrease in stares.

Neteyam should have been done with his chores by now, I looked around for him, finally spotting him speaking to another Na’vi boy. His back was turned to me so I stood a few feet away, not wanting to interrupt their conversation. However the boy Neteyam was talking to noticed me, nodding his head in my direction. Neteyam turned to me, his eyes widened, and he did nothing but stare for a long moment.

“I know It’s different, but you don't have to stare.”

I scolded, suddenly feeling more embarrassed than confident in my new attire.

Neteyam shook his head immediately, dismissing himself from his friend and approaching me,

“No that's not it, I just- I wasn't expecting it.”

I shrugged, looking down at myself.

“Kiri thought it was about time I changed.”

Neteyam chuckled, nodding in agreement.

“I think Kiri was right.”

I rolled my eyes, turning on my heel.

“You're going to miss my convenient cargo pants the next time someone needs to slice their arm open.”

Neteyam chuckled, walking next to me.

“Maybe you are right, but we will manage.”

Neteyam nodded his head in the direction of the cave opening.

“Let's fly.”

Neteyam told me it was dangerous to get my own Ikran right now because of the sky people, but he promised we would go soon.

If I was being honest, I didn’t ever need my own Ikran, I was perfectly happy riding with Neteyam. It was part of the reason I liked flying so much.

We mounted the Ikran and Neteyam took no time to start flying, I hoped he looked forward to our time together as much as I did. Against my better judgment I wanted to assume so.

I enjoyed our flight just as much as I did the handful of times we had gone before. To my surprise Neteyam lowered us to the ground in what seemed to be a completely random area. I turned to look at him, and he tapped my thigh in a reassuring manner before getting off the Ikran. He helped me down as he always did, even though we both knew I was fully capable of doing it myself.

“Is something wrong Neteyam?”

I questioned walking up to him. He shook his head in denial, but the expression on his face was telling me a different story.

“What is it?”

I pressed, trying to look into his eyes, but he was conveniently just avoiding my gaze.

He sighed, trying his best to choose the correct words, but he settled on just telling the truth.

“My father, he wants to leave.”

I turned my head in confusion, I couldn't even begin to understand what he meant.

“He doesn’t think it's safe for us, not now that the Corporal is back, and knows we exist.”

Now it was my turn to look away, my features pinched together in every negative emotion I could muster.

Neteyam began to raise his hand to cup the girl's face before hesitating, he sighed, not knowing how to make the appropriate decision.

He settled on grabbing my hand, gently holding it, as if I was on the verge of disappearing. As I was processing what Neteyam told me he continued.

“I think you should come with us. I spoke to my dad, and he agrees.”

I pressed my lips together, using my free hand to rub my forehead.

“That's not safe. You all are a big enough target as it is, you can’t add me to the wanted list.”

Neteyam shook his head, squeezing my hand.

“Like you said, we are already the target. Besides I’m the one who convinced you to leave, I can't abandon you now.”

I closed my eyes for a moment, wishing I could just be happy for a little while without having my life uprooted. I raised my head, looking Neteyam in the eyes.

“Spider, I need to find him.”

Neteyam tucked my loose hair behind my ear, if I wasn't so upset the gesture would have me smiling for a week.

“Your best chance at getting him back is coming with us. Sully's stick together, Spider will find his way home.”

His voice was so calm and steady, and he was so goddamn convincing.

“Where are you even going to go? Your dad is the chief.”

Neteyam ran a hand through his braids, trying to decide where to begin.

He explained to me that Jake planned to step down in order to keep his people safe. Not only that but there were water tribes on the other side of the planet, Jake hoped they would take in his family if we agreed to learn their ways. This all seemed like a long shot but I reluctantly agreed.

“It is all going to work out.”

Neteyam assured me, I smiled at him. I didn’t understand how he was staying so strong. He was going to leave the only home he's ever known, and my psychopathic father wanted his entire family's blood. Out of the two of us Neteyam was getting the short end of the stick. I squeezed his hand, it was my way of thanking him for being so good to me in the short time we have known each other.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Before I knew it, me and the Sully family were walking into a marui led by Tsireya, the daughter of the leader of the Metkayina clan. Jake feigned excitement at the situation, but Neytiri did not hide her dismay as she dropped her luggage with a huff. I looked over to Tsireya who was beckoning me over, I looked back over to the Sullys before stepping a few feet away. She smiled at me, and I smiled back without hesitation. She was so kind, I could tell she had a good heart.

“You have not known them for long?”

Tsireya asked, but it seemed she already knew the answer. I shook my head,

“No, not long.”

I admitted, and she nodded in understanding. She led me only a few yards away to the Marui next door, which was also vacant.

“I think you'll be more comfortable here.”

My mouth opened as I realized what she was offering.

“No I couldn't-”

She didn't let me get another word out before profusely shaking her head.

“It is more than fine. Seven people should not have to live in an Marui anyway, let alone if they are not family.”

I sighed, offering her a thankful grin.

“I've got to get going, please let me know if you need anything.”

With that the sweet girl left. I sighed, looking around my new- home?

I scratched my head, realizing I had absolutely nothing to make the empty hut my own. Before I could stress over it for too long Neteyam walked in.

“I told you it would work out”

I laughed, turning in his direction.

“Maybe you were right, but it's all because your dad is the most convincing man in this galaxy.”

This time it was Neteyams turn to laugh.

“Either way, it worked.”

I stood by the doorway, next to Neteyam, looking out at the maze of homes. The ocean was visible on the horizon, I could hear the constant but subtle crash of the waves against each other. I took a moment to process everything that had happened.

Neteyam looked over towards Shyla. He was glad she agreed to come, though the two didn't know each other for long, it was hard to think of her leaving. He was confident in saying she was his best friend, which might make him seem like a loser, and his brother would definitely haze him for it, but Neteyam couldn't find himself caring.

He never knew someone that he wanted to be around so much, it was a completely foreign feeling, but a welcome one.

The next day was an early start. All the Sully kids and I met with Tsireya, her older brother Aonung, and his friend. I wasn't listening when he introduced himself. They decided we would start off the day by just swimming.The Metkayina clan kids went first, they all had olympic level dives, It never got old to see a Na'vi in their element. I didn't hesitate to follow, diving in the water with what I would consider to be decent form.

I swam ahead, trailing behind Tsireya. After swimming for a moment I looked back, smiling to myself. I watched as lo’ak, Neteyam and Tuk struggled to catch up. I motioned for them to hurry, but I still waited.

The three eventually swam up next to me. I grabbed Neteyams hand, urging him to come with me. I wanted to experience this with him like I had with everything else. Tuk and Lo’ak swam up to the surface immediately, Neteyam gave me an apologetic look before following his siblings. My expression probably resembled a pout as I watched Neteyam swim away. I would sigh If I wasn't submerged under water.

I swam over to the Metkayina kids, they all gave me a questioning look and I shrugged. It was weird being the only human, I have gone through extensive military training my whole life. Avatar or not I could swim for hours if I had to, and I spent a sad amount of time on my lung capacity. At my best I could hold my breath for 9 minutes, but I'm sure I've gotten rusty.

Aonung started to speak to me in sign language and I didn’t understand any of it. I replied back in ASL, looking to Tsireya but it was apparent that none of us were understanding each other.

I looked up to see Neteyam swimming down toward us, Lo’ak and Tuk close behind. Once the three made it back down Tsireya attempted to communicate with them, but they seemed even more lost than I was.

Tuk began swimming up for air and the rest of us followed to the surface.

Tuk whined, obviously having a hard time catching up with everyone else.

“Slow down! You're going too fast.”

I giggled and Tsireya turned to me.

“You can speak with your hands?”

I shrugged as best as I could while treading water.

“I was taught on earth, but it is obviously different from yours.”

Aonung shook his head, adding to the conversation

“Actually some of the signs you used made sense.”

Tsireya agreed with an eager smile.

“You will be able to learn quickly!”

Neteyam grunted under his breath, obviously frustrated.

Lo’ak seemed just as inpatient,

“This talking with your hands stuff makes no sense.”

I ignored Lo’ak and the two Metakina boys arguing over being stupid or something, looking around I furrowed my brows together.

“Where's Kiri?”

Turns out Kiri caught on quicker than any of us, and she was just enjoying the scenery. After retrieving her we all went to the beach to try and tame an Ilu of our own. I was a little bummed out that I was getting an Ilu rather than an Ikran, but it sure as hell was better than swimming everywhere.

Neteyam jabbed me in the side playfully as we walked onto the beach. I pushed his hand away, pretending to be annoyed.

“What's that for?”

I questioned him with a push to the shoulder.

Kiri and Lo’ak exchanged a knowing look, watching the pair from the corner of their eye.

“Why can you swim so well, and talk with your hands, and hold your breath as long as them?”

I laughed at how shocked he was, shaking my head.

“I'm a worrier too you know, but on earth they taught us to be prepared in any environment, not just the one we are comfortable in.”

He pursed his lips, realizing that maybe he should have swam more as a child.

Tsireya turned to face the group, wearing her usual polite smile.

“I think it would be better if we split into groups, I’ll stay her with Neteyam and Lo’ak,”

I smiled, I had a sneaking suspicion Tsireya had a crush, but seeing Lo’aks reaction to their pairing it seems the feelings mutual.

“Shyla, you’ll go with Aonung, he's the best with Ilus, he’ll make sure creating your first connection won't be too hard.”

I smiled at both Tsireya, and her brother nodding in understanding.

“Kiri and Tuk, you can learn from Rotxo, you both seem to be quick enough learners.”

So that's the other guy's name, I should probably remember that. Aonung nodded his head for me to follow him, and I complied, picking up my pase to his side.

Neteyam pressed his lips together, watching as Shyla and Aonung walked away together. Lo’ak watched his brother, laughing under his breath.

“Bro, don’t worry about it.”

The younger Sully boy assured his brother, and Neteyam scoffed.

“I am not worried, why would I be worried?”

Tsireya scrunched her nose, looking at Neteyam with unintentional pity.

“Lo’ak is right, she only sees you. I can tell.”

Neteyam’s hard expression softened, he looked to the girl, wanting to ask how she could be so sure. He opted to shut up about the topic, not wanting to be so transparent about his feelings in front of his siblings.

Kiri, rolled her eyes picking up her sister

“Barf, let's go Tuk.”

Aonung and I stood in the water, he held an untamed Ilu, keeping it steady for me.

“The Ilu will be able to feel you in every way when you make the connection, be sure to keep calm and focused.”

I took a deep breath, I must admit the Ilu’s were much less intimidating than the Ikran. Maybe it was better I was starting off small.

I swung my leg over the Ilu, Aonung kept his hand on the animal's body, keeping it steady the best he could. I took my queue, hesitating.

“It is ok”

Aonung assured me, I didn't take him for a comforting person, but I appreciated how patient he was with me. I smiled, nodding as I slowly made the bond.

I tried to keep my mind clear but it was difficult, the sensations I was feeling were like no other. It was like having another mind in the back of my head, the Ilus thoughts and emotions felt like a dream I had just woken up from.

They were so vivid yet I couldn't quite claim them as my own.

I could feel the water, I could feel it surround me, I felt the temperature, the pressure, the waves.

“Now, think of where you want to go, and how you want to do it. The Ilu will understand you. Keep a tight hold when coming in and out of the water.”

I held onto the saddle of the Ilu, letting my body rock with the waves under me.

“Got it.”

I whispered, composing myself once more before taking off. I didn't let my mind wander to anything but the water. I told my Ilu to dip down, and the two of us sank beneath the water together. I smiled to myself, going faster. It wasn't so hard, but maybe I was just amazing, that was probably it.

I picked up speed and my Ilu surfaced the water. I kept Aonungs advice in mind, keeping a tight grip on the leather straps. We sprang out into the air and I took a breath in, blinking the water out of my eyes. To my surprise I stuck the landing, not without almost falling off, but I managed to keep myself together. I laughed the hardest I had possibly ever in my life, my dopamine and serotonin levels skyrocketing. I treaded water on my Ilu as my laugh died down. I heard cheering from the shore and Aonung was hollering.

“Great job!”

I smiled and waved back at him.

I took a moment to look out onto the horizon, and over to the other side of the beach where Neteyam was. My timing was perfect to watch Neteyam fail horribly at riding his Ilu. I giggled to myself, guiding my Ilu to swim towards Neteyam.

He swam up to the surface after being bucked off of his Ilu, smacking the water in frustration. Their connection was broken as the Ilu swam away.

I glided up to the boy, and he sighed watching me.

“So you're perfect at this too?”

I smiled, reaching my hand out to him.

“I guess I'm in my element. Let me help you this time.”

Neteyam, despite being mildly pissed off, smiled back at the girl. Taking her hand, taking his usual spot behind her. Neteyam kept his hands to his sides, looking for a place to hold onto.

I looked over my shoulder.

“Neteyam, you need to hold on.”

I scolded, reaching back for his wrist, guiding it around my waist. He took the hint wrapping his other arm around my abdomen. It was windy, and we were soaking wet. Neteyams chest radiated heat into my back, his arms shielding my stomach from the cold.

I looked down, watching as the muscles in his forearms flexed. I had to tear away my eyes, looking up to the water.

Neteyam noticed Shylas shameless gaze, and the way she tensed under his touch. Tsireyas words rang in his head, giving him more confidence then he would usually ever have.

A smirk tugged at the side of Neteyams lips as he lowered his head, hovering over Shylas ear. Neteyams grip around the girl stayed strong, as if she would be pulled away by the current any moment.

My breath stopped as Neteyam held his head next to mine. His cheek pressed into my temple as he spoke.

“You can’t be so nervous.”

I could feel his breath on my ear, making them heighten out of instinct. Where the hell was this coming from?

“Your Ilu can feel it.”

I was frozen from both confusion and lust. I would never admit it, but I was worried I wouldn’t be able to keep my cool If I made any sudden moves.

I took in a sharp breath, turning my head toward Neteyam, looking up to him.

“I can feel how fast your heart’s beating.”

I whispered, thinking of the day we met, hiding away as the sky people hunted us.

“I make you just as nervous.”

Neteyam wanted to kiss her, he wanted nothing more. He wanted to show her just how fast he could make her heart beat. The only thing stopping him was being in the line of sight of multiple people, including his siblings. He liked to think he could be more romantic than that.

Neteyams smirk turned into a smile.

“Maybe you're right”

He straightened his back, his body now towering over my own.

“Let's go back Fyole, I still have learning to do.”

I wanted to scream, I had no idea what he just called me. I was fluent in Na’vi but I didn't get the chance to learn the more obscure words in their vocabulary before it was time to come to Pandora.

Nonetheless I complied.

Tag List

@liyahsocorro

@teenagemuffinlampcalzone

#neteyam #neteyam fic #neteyam sully #sully family #neteyam x reader #neteyam fluff #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x oc #neteyam x you #fanfiction #avatar #avatar movie

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dream-meister-translations · 2 years ago

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WONDER TEA PARTY - PART 1

━

ROUGE : I'm already stressed out!!!! SHAYMIE : Sooo stressed. Hehehe~♪♪ ROUGE : Oh? Shaymie, you know how I feel? It's just too much pressure, I had to drink. EMMA : But Rouge, you usually drink even without any problems? ROUGE : True, but this situation makes me wanna drink even more. Oh, blue~ Blue deeper than the sea~ FELD : Hey, you guys have been really loud for the last few minutes! You've almost downed that whole bottle!

MEL : No amount of whining is going to solve the problem, right? You guys really are useless.

OSCAR : Rouge, you're a grown man, if you want to get drunk that's fine. Just remember to have respect for the food in front of you. VOLKS : Hmm, indeed. It would be a shame to consume such fine food and drink out of mere desperation. They should be cherished. ROUGE : Thank you so much for the delicious food and drinks. See, I respect it very much. I'm sure both of you are a little nervous inside as well?

VOLKS : I wouldn't say that I am nervous, however, it is true that this request is quite challenging. FELD : Oscar…It's been a long time since I've seen you this angry. Just why are we all having a party right now? And why do we all look so upset? The reason for all of this lies in a request I received from a certain royal family to "produce a perfect tea party."

ROUGE : Even though it's supposed to be a tea party, I want it to be relaxed and not too formal. You should be able to lay back and enjoy your time.

ROUGE : Shaymie, let's go with a fun, easy going, up-tempo song. OSCAR : How about a fun and carefree atmosphere with free choice of confectionery? VOLKS : Then the dress code should be fun and loose opposed to the traditional rigid formal attire. ROUGE : We've made a lot of proposals, but they were all rejected! My recommendation of an "all-you-can-drink party" also got rejected, didn't it? EMMA : I think it was fair to reject that one...

EMMA : Your Majesty's opinion is certainly not in line with your concept of "carefree fun." FELD : Are you fucking kidding me!? ROUGE : Of course~ I knew when I heard this job would involve the royal family I'd hate it. VOLKS : The client this time is an excellent politician. But maybe because of that rigidity, he dislikes things that are laid back and fun. It seems some people can't break out of their shells easily. But, I'd like to help him try. OSCAR : Hmm…If this keeps up the tea party attendees will be forced to eat a full course of "nothing."

FELD : Then why not refuse? It's not too late. OSCAR : As much as I'd like to, there is more merit in accepting the offer. We are dealing with a country that produces fine food. Rare food at that. He is prepared to offer some as a reward for this request. It's an investment for the future of the gastronomy guild, so to speak. VOLKS : As a dream weaver, I intend to complete this request as well. His majesty is a good person, if we can break him out of his shell, he will be an even more dignified king. MEL : So you're going to polish him up because he's not good enough? You're still a real sucker, aren't you, Volks? SHAYMIE : And why is Rouge here?

ROUGE : I'm a good poet, and I'm also the kind of poet who always takes on the hardest jobs一 EMMA : They are finally threatening to kick Rouge out of the Moon Wanderers. He has to do this to stay in the guild. I'm his chaperone. SHAYMIE : Aaah! I drew that in my picture diary~! Let's see… Rouge spent a lot of money. Rouge said, "I spent a lot of money." Gran said, "I'm so mad at you!", Rouge replied, "That's why I'm going to work hard even if I hate my job."

FELD : I'm beyond angry, I'm disgusted. MEL : Are you ashamed to be alive~? ROUGE : Don't say something so hurtful in such a silly pose! It's breaking my heart!

I take a sip of my cocktail and watch as Rouge is goaded by the black fairies. EMMA : (Of course, we should take the client's wishes into consideration. Hmm…I'm really not sure what to do.) With every suggestion the royal family rejected, I was beginning to lose hope...

ROUGE : Emma, are you okay? You look a little tired. EMMA : I'm fine! I'm just getting a little impatient… VOLKS : You're doing the best you can, Emma. OSCAR : It's not over yet. You should eat up and get your strength back. EMMA : Thank you very much…

While complaining about how much we hate work, we all enjoyed a drink together. EMMA : (…..Huh……?) A sudden drowsiness hits me, and my vision blurs. EMMA : (….I can't…open….my eyes….) ?? : Wake up, Emma! EMMA : ………..?

ROUGE : Oh, thank goodness! You had me worried sick! SHAYMIE : Emma, are you okay~? EMMA : (I was just having a drink with the guys at Edouard's Castle, I think…So, how did we end up here?) ROUGE : Where the heck are we? I suddenly felt sleepy and when I woke, it was daybreak. SHAYMIE : Hahaha~ Where are we? I don't remember how I got here! EMMA : Rouge…Shaymie…

I'm trying to figure this whole thing out, but I can't help but notice... EMMA : Um…What the heck are those ears!? ROUGE : Hahaha, these? I dunno I just woke up and they were on my head. They're like Rabbit ears or something. SHAYMIE : Jump! Jump! Jump!

EMMA : Shaymie, I don't think this is the time…Why do you both have bunny ears? ROUGE : You have rabbit ears on your head, too. EMMA : Wait, what!? They're really on my head!? FELD : Where the hell am I!? Why am I dressed like this!? EMMA : Feld!? You look so flashy! FELD : It's not my intention! ?? : Hmm….

I heard the sound of a cloak fluttering and when I turned to look, there was Oscar. Clad in an immaculate outfit that would make anyone want to prostrate themselves. OSCAR : What is going on here? ROUGE : Wow, cool! EMMA : So cool! MEL : Hey, what's going on? Why am I suddenly dressed like this? VOLKS : What an interesting outfit, Mel. ROUGE : Wow, yours is nice too Volks! I dig the stylish hat~! EMMA : Yes, it's lovely!

SHAYMIE : Emma is copying Rouge~♪♪ VOLKS : You look lovely too, Emma.

EMMA : Oh, thank you…? MEL : No, seriously, what is going on!? Were we all kidnapped at the same time!? ROUGE & EMMA : Kidnapped!? ROUGE : What are we gonna do, Emma? The Moon Wanderers don't have the money to pay a ransom! EMMA : Calm down, Rouge! We aren't sure we've been kidnapped yet. VOLKS : Right. Let's first get an accurate picture of what is going on. Oscar, do you recognize these woods? OSCAR : I don't know…I know we are nowhere near the castle of Edouard.

?? : Hey…. MEL : Who's there? EMMA : (I think I just heard a voice…Was that coming from my feet?) I glanced down and saw all kinds of brightly colored flowers blooming underfoot. SHAYMIE : Did that flower just speak? FELD : Flowers don't talk. FLOWER 1 : Welcome, welcome! If you want to know anything, I'll tell you everything! If you don't want to know anything, I'll still tell you everything! ROUGE & FELD & MEL : It talked!? FLOWER 2 : Everything is weird here! FLOWER 3 : It's Wondermare!

#Otome #Yumekuro #Yumekuro Translations #YMKR translations #YMKR #Dream Meister Translations #Otome Translations #Dream Meister And The Recollected Black Fairy #Dream Meister And The Recollected Black Fairy translations #tea1

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gfanlocalcryptid · 1 year ago

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Loving makes the lover girl happy

One of the phrases I repeat over and over in my head is "don't share your love. Keep it to yourself." Day and night, I even wrote it in code in my journal.

I don't mean this in a selfish way - I always try to help others as much as I can and leave them with a good impression of me *cough cough people pleaser cough cough*.

The problem is that I feel TOO much love. I'm not even 100% sure you can feel something like that. I am a "lover girl". I write dedications, love songs and poems.

If you care about me I will try to make you understand that you are special to me. And this scares me. Because I don't expect everyone to accept my love; I don't impose myself. But I couldn't stand being made fun of for this. This no.

Make fun of me for how I dress and for the TV series I watch, but not for how I love. I couldn't stand something like that.

So I try to measure my love. To keep it to myself, to put it in writing instead of expressing myself.

There is a person I love very much. Not from a romantic point of view, but I really appreciate this person and only want the best for them.

Today we were walking home together, and they confessed to me that they hadn't been feeling very well psychologically for a while, and I couldn't resist.

I told them everything I think of them, that I admire them and that I have never met a person like them. They thanked me, and we continued chatting. Only now do I feel terrified of being exposed too much.

Of having shown them a part of myself too deep and true. I'm scared that they might understand the love I have for them.

What if they were disgusted by it? Or scared? Or I'm exaggerating and for them those words were just wind.

I always keep my love for myself but sometimes I let it loose because it makes me so happy. Loving makes the lover girl happy.

#Oh what did I do?#teenage angst #tantrum #i/me/myself #love #platonic love #romantic love #writing #my writing

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noxtms · 2 years ago

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saoirse in flat #22b is under the impression that everyone gathered is commiserating yesterday’s montrose magpies loss at the quidditch league. her friend, roger, considers what’s happening to be more of a celebration of the falmouth falcons unlikely win - this disagreement will be heard all the way up in #35b, where eloise is treating the open tower block party as a slightly belated birthday bash. sarah, still at home but soon to show, receives a very confusing text message from a friend who received an equally confusing owl, earlier that night. something, something, the demiguise ddnt turn visible so sumemr is fucked. she won’t get an explanation on that one, but she will get a location : BEAUMONT COURT, MARJORIBANKS ROAD.

WHO, WHAT, WHEN, WHERE :

only ONE thing is really for sure, and that’s that nobody is actually all that sure on how or why the tower block party on marjoribanks road kicked off. everyone that turns up gets another version of an everchanging story, to the point where even the most simplest of facts, like where it even started, are lost by the time it’s in full swing. someone says an apartment on the lower floor got a couple of kegs at a discounted rate and wanted to put them to good use. someone else says that someone farther up the building just got fired from their clerking job at the ministry of magic, and this is where it led. no one seems all that concerned about the lack of information going around, but then again, with so few and far between reasons to celebrate, of late, why would anyone in their right mind turn up the opportunity to really let loose ?

beaumont court is a 37 floor tower block at the heart of marjoribanks road. it’s not the tallest of the buildings that surround it and as one of the first ones to be built in this wixen settlement, it also isn’t up to the same sort of standard as some of the newer buildings - but what it does have going for it is the willingness of its residents to throw a hell of a party, when given half the chance. rules are established very early on in the evening. wix that want to get involved throw open their doors and invite partygoers ( many of whom are apparating in from farther afield than the surrounding london area ) into their humble abode. wix that don’t keep their doors charmed shut and throw up a ward to keep the noise out, letting everyone else have their fun without doing something silly like calling in the aurors. there is no dress code, and the overall code of conduct is a little shaky. some fights are expected to break out, but as long as the people involved deal with it without involving anyone else, no one is expected to be kicked out or anything. obviously, the statute of secrecy remains at the forefront of most people’s minds - or, some people’s minds, at least - but since most properties on marjoribanks road are already somewhat protected, as long as everyone keeps this within regular party bounds, everyone should be fine.

news travels by word of mouth. residents tell their friends, who tell their friends, who tell theirs, and that’s how it got so big, so fast - whoever did kick off this night of festivities probably didn’t expect the turnout that they got, but there’s no denying how magnetic it all starts to feel, after a while. as the first blowout event since the christmas attack, it’s obvious that everyone is glad to have an excuse to drink with their friends and laugh over drunken antics, and nobody can really deny the good it seems to do.

OUT OF CHARACTER :

it’s time to celebrate noxtms’ birthday, and this is an event that i have wanted to do for a really long time - so i hope you guys are as hyped up about it as i am ! the beaumont court tower block party is a little different to things we’ve done before, but the premise is much the same. this is your chance for your characters to let their hair down and get up to some - probably troublesome - antics, so make sure to take full advantage of that !

it may feel difficult to slot characters into this, especially those on the older side, but don’t worry - there are ways you can do it ( aurors could be making sure everything stays within the statute, for example ), and even if there ultimately aren’t, this is only the first of two events. the other one is a staple of the rp, and anyone who couldn’t dive in here will be able to dive in there ! go forth and enjoy, folks !

this event will kick off on thursday the 20th at 6pm gmt and will end on the 30th. click this sentence to find out what that start time translates to for you ! in game, this is happening on the 8th of april ! happy birthday nox !

no character is actually required to attend this event, nor are you required to take part, but you are heavily encouraged to !

this event is DASH ONLY, and starters should be tagged with nox.event033 or nox.beaumont ( or both ). the location for anyone who tags it is broadly marjoribanks road, a wix settlement located in south london comprised entirely of flat blocks and a small housing estate, with a handful of community areas ( allotment gardens, a plaground & a park ). you can find the channel for outfits on the main discord !

if you have any questions or concerns, please do not hesitate to message the main, and just give this post a like once you’ve read it !

#nox.event #nox.event033 #nox.beaumont #nox.important #hp rp #harry potter rp #appless rp #fandom rp #canon rp #oc rp

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civilization-illstayrighthere · 2 years ago

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10 for the OC Codex for an oc of choice!

10. a description of your OC by someone who hates them (OC Codex here)

“V? Ah. The thief. The criminal. He slithers, he sneaks. I think, in those ways, you will find him favorable, Yorinobu-san.” Goro says evenly, “You share much in common.”

The plainly-spoken insults are vicious for someone such as Goro. Yorinobu does not flinch when he hears them, similar to how Goro had kept his back straight and face passive when he idly stood by his father berating him in similar tones throughout his life.

“You would do well not to underestimate him. I believe he dresses and acts the way he does purposefully. He may be uneducated and childish, but is quick to anger. I have never seen him wield a gun,” He pauses, thoughtful, “but I have seen him kill many, many men.

“He has no love for any corporation or higher power, but if it will help him, he will aid you. He will go to great lengths to continue living, the way an animal caught in a trap always does. It leads him to viciousness; he does not believe in loose ends.” Goro’s voice twinges bitter. Yorinobu had heard about Oda. Another serendipitous, accidental favor the merc had done for him. It made it that much easier to keep control over Hanako.

The death of Smasher, well. He had no fondness in his heart for the ‘borg. And Yorinobu is no idiot; he knows, in time, that Smasher’s allegiances would waver. If bigger bloodshed was offered elsewhere, if Michiko finally gave up her girlish games and truly made a play for the empire. It came sooner than he had wanted or anticipated, but what is done is done.

“Will you keep me here?” Goro finally asks.

“No,” He says simply, “I am not my father.”

Goro’s frown twinges to something of a snarl before it settles. Here, not being behind the plexiglass he is standing, his holographic form silent, but here, as in the backup Mikoshi kept underneath the Arasaka estate.

Goro is a brainwashed dog of his own. He balks at such a comparison, even if Yorinobu had been more like his father, he would have kept Goro in Mikoshi for eternity. He could have ripped him out, placed him into another, new body, with all of the hatred for Yorinobu’s patricide and ability for his loyalty to waver removed from him. He could have twisted him beyond recognition; he could have stripped him of everything. He supposes this does not truly scare a dog like Goro Takemura. He has already been stripped of everything a long, long time ago.

Yorinobu considers the Soul Killer process a necessary, but very temporary evil. They had found Goro dead in the basement bunker, his belly cut open. The blood had pooled on the floor, the strands of his intestines dark, pink ropes beneath his still hands stained with rust There had been no other way to get information out of him but to upload what was remaining of his consciousness. But Yorinobu had never entertained keeping him past the interrogation, not even for a moment.

Afterall, he had been in his shoes before. He knows what Mikoshi feels like; he knows what it’s like to be rendered into code.

This mercenary, V, is one of the few to understand. By Yorinobu’s estimate, it is only himself and the thief in this entire world that have ever been able to come back from the clutches of Soul Killer to once more occupy their bodies.

Goro bows his head. Short, curt.

“Goodbye, then.” He does not smile so much as bare his teeth, “Avici awaits you.”

Yorinobu says nothing. Before him, he flicks a switch on a sprawling control panel. Goro disappears; the lights cut. In the morning, he will take a trip down North Oak’s winding roads, and stop for a visit at a certain rockerboy’s villa. He has a mercenary he needs to finally, formally meet.

(Thank you SO MUCH ANON! this was a really fun prompt )

#yorinobu arasaka #goro takemura #saburo arasaka #cp 2077 #cyberpunk 2077 #this is referencing how Yori was soul killed back in the original cyberpunk 2020 sourcebook :^) he’s such an interesting character #i love the idea that he hates mikoshi etc just as much because he also went through it #and is one of the reasons he wants to take down his fathers empire from the inside

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theveryworstthing · 4 years ago

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So over on patreon Trevor asked for my take on the Addams Family and I grew up LOVING the Addams family movies so here we are. Instead of doing a straight up style interpretation, I decided to do a full on design challenge, using the characters as bases to make a black southern gothic Addams au. I actually drew the kids first, using the character bases of Wednesday and Pugsley to create some delightful kiddos I'm calling Sunday and Blanche. I of course then redesigned Gomez and Morticia into Carlisle and Mortesha.

The Addams have a very specific high aristocratic goth aesthetic (they've got a butler and nobody really works among other things) so in this re-imagining I wanted to go with vibes that run a little more middle class/upper middle class. I thought it would be interesting to think about what would be considered weird and off-putting in an entirely different culture, and how being a big ol' goth is way less controversial than it used to be.

I tried to keep this short (HAHAHAHAHAHA) so I didn't spin off into an essay about villain coded families, black people in the horror genre, and normalcy as it pertains to social survival, but just...bits of that are in these designs and lore. Keep that in mind.

Also I made the kids twins because they've flip flopped in age so much in different media and also twins run in my family (i'm the daughter of one). And let's face it, I'm pulling a lot of their southern gothic traits from living as a southern goth so *shrug*.

10 thousand pounds of lore incoming loooooooooool.

The Parents

From the moment he saw her he knew that there was a 50/50 chance of him either never making it out of that swamp alive or marrying the figure that was creeping out from under the distant willow tree in a black cocktail dress. The third time she found him trussed up in one of her traps, he complimented her rope work and asked if she'd like to go out sometime after his head wound stopped bleeding.

Or while it was still bleeding.

If she was into that.

Some kids and a mysteriously burnt down Piggly Wiggly later, their love is still as strong and inescapable as a bear trap in a sink hole.

Carlisle Guillermo (now Addams through marriage but I wanted to give him two first names for a name since Gomez has two last names) makes a vaguely described living practicing ‘law’ around town. A loophole king, people come to him from miles around with contracts signed in blood, fights over chunks of hair buried in their rivals’ yard, dehydrated primate hands, memories that seemed like dreams until the evidence of their happenings became too real, and other regular Legal Items asking for counsel which he is all too happy to give. For a price. Sometimes that price is a homemade pie and sometimes it’s a million dollars, depends on who you are. Whatever you’re asked to pay it’s worth that price, and if you try to scam him out of work or he just plain doesn’t like you? Well. He knows how to twist a contract better than anything at the crossroads.

And he always gets his due.

He doesn’t just serve the local (living)humans though, there are many things that need proper legal representation in this day and age. You wouldn’t believe how many city councils try to build on sacred burial grounds even after he lets them know that his ghostly clients are totally gonna haunt the FUCK out of the ensuing shitty condos and curse their families for all eternity. At least 50% of his energy goes towards dealing with real estate bullshit.

Carl is an excitable and good natured(?) man who loves his family, cigars, dancing, and his many knife-based hobbies. People find him very charming once they get past the feeling that they’re talking to a sultry gator badly disguising itself as a human. I didn’t put a ton of deep thought into designing him, mostly I wanted to make a middle aged dude who looked like he would have been voted ‘most likely to smooch the literal devil’ in high school. Tbh he probably has, but no demonic ex’s can compare to his lovely wife~

Mortesha Addams(her name was already perfect so I just tweaked it)is a woman of many talents. A self proclaimed homemaker, she prides herself on a greenhouse full of Concerning Foliage, a beautiful wasp apiary, and a coop full of what are probably chickens that she keeps for what are probably eggs. She’s also an avid creator of the outsider art that can be seen around the estate. She has taken on the family business of selling her homemade goods in a little stall by the road just outside the swamp with her mom, and makes pretty good money doing so. A surprising amount of poison gets bought in quaint southern towns.

Speaking of poison, people who come out to the edge of the swamp to buy it are usually carrying a lot of secrets around, and Mortesha knows most of them. It’s not like she pries the truth out of people, it just so happens that many nervous hellos eventually turn into the tragic backstory power hour if she’s alone with a client for long enough. She supposes that’s just how people are. Despite the fact that the Addams are very active in the community (whether the community likes it or not) she especially, as a direct descendant of the first Addams matriarch, is seen as…Well not an outsider because the community feels A Certain Way about outsiders and despite it all the Addams are their people, but maybe something like an exception. They feel like whatever weirdness they’re hiding can’t be weirder than any given Addams, so they get a little loose with their words.

This is amusing to her, since Addams’ don’t naturally keep the kind dramatic secrets that their surface level prim and proper neighbors do. It’s much more fun to openly talk about those things.

Do they have a sadly decrepit yet terrifying grandma up in the attic? Yeah, like three. They got a tv, all the creepy porcelain dolls they could want, and they’re close to family. Where do you keep your gram-grams?

Any bodies buried on the property? Yeah some, but most are thrown to the gators.

Any creeping through the balmy summer night with ill intentions? Yeah dude, everyone loves a nice family stroll.

What about dangerous forbidden love? If an adult Addams isn’t incorporeal then they’re either queer or in a torrid romance with some person/thing mysteriously drawn to that awful swamp. Sometimes both at the same time. Most times actually.

Mortesha would know.

The current head of the Addams family is just as outgoing as her husband but a lot quieter and harder to read. She never really seems to get mad about much and always has a genteel smile for everyone whether they deserve it or not. A seven foot tall human shaped “Oh, bless your heart”. A perfectly composed Lady even when she’s, oh I dunno, burning down a Piggly Wiggly. You know. A regular southern mom. Chat her up at the hair salon for 50% off a jar of wasp honey with your next purchase of a mysterious but foreboding packet of herbs.

Designing her was pretty easy because I just drew a lankier Grace Jones and called it a day. I had some problems with her outfit simply because if we were going HARD southern gothic then she’d probably be wearing a white/cream dress with a fuller skirt but I thought keeping the silhouette and the black was more important. She’s supposed to be an anti southern gothic southern gothic character anyway. A woman who looks like she has a million secrets who is actually the most open person you could meet. For better or worse. The red hair came from a coloring error that I really ended up liking (my mom had red hair her whole childhood that only darkened up in high school so I can buy that an Addams can be naturally fire engine red) and the veil was to get more of that classic Morticia silhouette in there.

The Children

Sunday and Blanche are the twin children of Carlisle and Mortesha Addams. Some say the Addams clan got their cursed homestead when a wealthy local businessman made a deal with the devil and lost, leaving his grand mansion to his least favorite maid and cutting his losses once he realized that the swamp would do everything it could to drag the house into the water and take what was owed with its horrible curse. Others say that the family has just always squatted there and no one really cares because man, fuck that particular swamp. Have you been in there? Absolute horror show.

Anyway.

Blanche is the more outgoing sibling and quite the engineer/mad scientist in the making. He started going grey at 2 weeks old but considering he was also rocking some extra fingers, toes, and a tiny tail (he takes after his dad), his parents just put it on the 'not life threatening' pile and decided not to worry about it. He's the kind of smart that teachers find utterly infuriating, less a dog eagerly learning and obeying commands and more a hyena who keeps teaching itself how to pick locks. He has a few friends in his school's robotics club (which they honestly allowed him to make so the school could contain his... creations) but mostly hangs out with his sister exploring the swamp. They find all sorts of neat things in there! wedding rings, suspiciously lumpy garbage bags, cloaked cultists who can't read private property signs, it's an adventure every day!

Blanche is all about experimentation with his creations, his look, and his tether to this mortal coil. Is lipstick a cool thing to try? Let's find out. Can he get out of a strait jacket fast enough after being pushed into the depths of the swamp by his sister? let's find out. He's not dead yet and confused local doctors can attest to the fact that he's rarely attained more than a bad bruise so he's pretty set on continuing to kiss rattlesnakes on their cute little heads and have his sister practice her knife throwing at him until that fact changes.

Blanche is very much a country goth. Cowboy boots (customized by his mom), knife, and lighter are daily accessories. He likes to wear the crusty swamp jewelry they find (the rust adds a splash of color!) and despite appearances he does try to keep himself neat. He's just got natural Grunge Colors and a tendency to wear clothes he likes until they fall apart. Pugsley always seemed the most modernly styled to me (which might just be because little boys clothes have been the same for a long time) so I wanted Blanche to be the most purposely fashionable Addams. Everyone else is goth by nature, but he's the only one truly familiar with goth as an alternative fashion.

I got really into designing Blanche because honestly, I find Pugsley to be the most boring member of the family. And he was hard to design! I had to mess with his vibe a lot to get him looking how I wanted. I know he's supposed to evoke an " 'evil' little boy next door who's parents never reign him in", but that's just goth Dennis The Menace. I's 2020. We can at least go queer goth Calvin.

Sunday was much easier to design. Wednesday was my favorite as a child (of course) and I really wanted to keep the spirit of her look while adding things like billowy sleeves (it gets HOT down here), big poofy twists instead of braids, and a nice tie. She's a professional after all, been running the local pet cemetery since she was 6 and the previous groundskeeper met with an unfortunate accident after telling her that tarantulas don't have souls. Her specialty is creating beautiful naturalistic animal funerals similar to those that Maquenda (https://linktr.ee/artofmaquenda) makes, and she takes pride in creating miniature dioramas of her subjects after each burial which she uses as a kind of 3D catalog for future clients.

She really wants to try out her skills on humans one day. Well. Publicly try out her skills. Lotta random bodies float into the swamp. None of them have turned down her requests for diorama models so far. Most seem downright flattered. Plus, she usually figures out which graveyard/crime scene they floated over from and gets her parents to give them a lift back. She'll even help enact terrifying revenge from beyond the grave on whoever put them there if she's not, y'know, busy.

Besides arts, crafts, and pet based funerary arrangements, Sunday is an avid lover of archery (any ranged weapon really), books where little fantasy adventure animals die dramatic deaths, and history. She is That Kid who eagerly raises her hand when asked who Christopher Columbus was and ends up being sent out of class after 15 minutes for making 'a scene'. Her favorite party trick is just picking an item in the room and talking about how it relates to either some obscure historical figure with a buck wild life or a horrible disaster. At least one charity pancake breakfast ended with children in tears after her vivid description of the Great Molasses Flood of 1919.

Social-wise, while Wednesday is the girl that people ask to smile because they think she'd, "look so pretty", Sunday is rarely asked anything at all. People just kind of assume from her quiet nature (in between horrible history facts) that she's angry all the time and that she hates everyone. This is untrue. She hates some people but she's ambivalent to most everyone else and even downright friendly if you bother to talk to her like a person instead of a terrifying cryptid. Like, she IS a terrifying cryptid but she's also a little girl.

That’s about it for now. One day I might do the other family members but for now I’m happy with the four I’ve redesigned. Making an au! Lurch in a family that doesn’t do butlers could be interesting. Over on patreon I put forth that he could just be Motesha’s mute little brother (similar bone structure) but Amy Crook had the nice idea of quote: “ a mysterious "cousin" that "helps around the house" whose origins are both long in the past and faintly unsettling. He's good for lifting heavy things, like that tank of propane you're about to throw into the burning Piggly Wiggly... “ which i now consider canon. Who's kid is he? How old is he? Not important. Anyone willing to commit arson with you is family.

Annnnyway. This challenge was a lot of fun! I love indulging in AU’s.

#long post #the addams family #Character Design #au #design challenge #i am incapable of doing a design challenge like a normal person #oh god i forgot the cut lol

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mediocre-daydreams · 2 years ago

Text

(ch.2) i don’t do love

enough with the blackberry torment!

pairing: sirius black x female! potter! slytherin! reader

summary: james potter’s younger sister can’t tell if she adores or loathes sirius black. sirius black can’t tell if he’s an asshole for flooding the great hall in blackberries, or if he’s an asshole for flirting with his best mate’s sister. (which he’s not, of course, but hypothetically, if he was, how mad do you think james would be?)

warnings: strings of long winded insults, really dramatic ranting, an overworked slughorn who is trying so hard and loosely based off my history teacher, NO (Y/N), she/her pronouns

W/C: 2.8k

A/N: second bit done! the fear of ants translating into blackberries is a real experience of mine. i can’t tell you how many shudders i had writing this chapter.

Blackberries were a feature of breakfast on Monday morning. You knew exactly why. Regulus took one look at your look of disgust and sighed. “Did my brother have something to do with this?” He didn’t need a verbal response to understand.

“Your brother and my brother and their stupid little boyband- they will not one up me! Not today. You know what? You know what-” You lept to your feet, practically tossing your jellied toast at the first year sitting across from you. “I’m so sorry!” You shouted back at them as you stormed to the Gryffindor table, not needing a second to spot your brother and his friends; you could follow the obnoxious noise.

“You gits! You absolute dunderheads!” You grabbed Remus and Sirius by their collars, knowing they must’ve been the masterminds behind the breakfast sabotaging. “You two little sadists think it’s so funny to exploit my childhood ant trauma for a little prank, don’t you? And you, Mr. Prefect,” you jabbed your finger into Remus’ chest.

“How did you even- what did you two do to the poor house elves to convince them to screw up breakfast, huh? The audacity! The nerve! The gall-” Your words were lost as Sirius pulled you to sit on the bench next to him. Turning to meet his smirk, you shoved him, the bottoms of both your palms digging into his chest. He didn’t budge.

“Curse you and your stupid quidditch muscles! I swear, you’re so insufferable!”

“Good mooooornin’ bug! The weather’s lovely today, ‘innit?” James leaned over from behind Sirius to tap you on the head a few times, multiple times, too many times, and you couldn’t help but snap at him.

“It is 8AM, I woke up and found out my shoes,” you glared at Sirius, “were so chuffed that the leather has begun peeling, and now I’m wearing Marlene’s old ones because I don’t want to get dress coded, and I just got an owl telling me my new Potions textbook won’t arrive until two weeks later, so Slughorn’s gonna be so upset because I’ve already forgotten to hand in last week’s homework, and now I have to put up with you lot and your pre-pubescent, immature pranks!”

Your chest heaved as you tried to recover from your passionate monologue. Sirius looked down at you, your cheeks tinged pink with exertion, and seemed entertained. Merlin’s beard, he makes me so furious! He’s all fun and great until he can’t take anything seriously at all and now I’ve just had a fit in front of the entirety of the Great Hall and it’s all his fault!

“Alright there, I’m sorry, yeah?” Sirius wrapped a hand around your head and pulled you into his chest, the same stupid chest which you couldn’t even shove because it was so chiseled firm, and as you buried your head into the soft fabric of his shirt beneath his robes, it wasn’t like you were even comfortable. Sirius’ chest was very much uncomfortable and you wished he would just let you go.

Sirius prayed that you were upset by the blackberries enough to distract you from his thumping heart, just above where your forehead rested. You banged your head against his chest a few times in mock anguish as Sirius ran his fingers through your hair and his other hand around your back.

To anyone else, it would’ve seemed like an intimate embrace. To you, it was the worst morning of your life. To Sirius, it was heaven—he was getting a firsthand look at the aftereffects of his prank, and he relished every moment of it.

“Alright, Pads. Hands off my sister. As much as I love watching her in despair, I don’t love watching my mate feel her up, got me?”

You practically flung yourself away from Sirius in disgust. “That was not what we were doing, James!” Sirius plastered on a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

I didn’t go too far, did I? She looks horrified. I should’ve asked before I touched her, she seemed repulsed by it. Repulsed? Is that it? She’s repulsed by me? Godric, what has she been hearing about my family in the common room? What has she been hearing about me?

James patted your back as he and Sirius bantered; you cracked your neck, staring down a bowl of blackberries. Fucking blackberries… what a prick, that Sirius Black. He’s getting such a kick out of this, isn’t he?

Your silence was not lost on Remus, ever perceptive, who leaned across the table and pushed the blackberries out of your line of sight.

“Hey, we didn’t take it too far, right? I’m sorry, Sirius and I found the whole story cute and we didn’t realize how much it would affect you. Can I make things better? Do you need me to walk you out?” You met his eye, lips curling at his comforting smile.

“Thank you, Remus. You’re so kind, but I think I’m going to finish eating with Reg. He’s familiar with my blackberry… aversion. It’s okay, though—the prank, I mean. You couldn’t have known.” Remus sat back down, satisfied with your answer. You waved to him as you rushed over to Regulus, shaking your head at the ground in disbelief at your brother and his posse of baboons.

Sirius turned to Remus. “Reg? Did she just call my brother Reg?” Sirius snorted, taking a large swig of his orange juice and slamming the goblet onto the table with a little too much force.”

Remus shrugged. “Does it really matter?”

Sirius grumbled. “Guess not.” His brother, Regulus Black—what was he telling you about him? The two of you had always been close, finding yourself distant from the elitist, blood supremacist Slytherins ever since being sorted in your first year. That didn’t mean you had to be his best friend or anything. Regulus Black… what was he good for anyways? What did you even see in him?

“I could hear Sirius’ voice from across the hall,” Regulus laughed, rubbing your shoulder assuredly. “Why don’t you finish your toast and then we can leave for Potions early? I hear Slughorn’s having another Slug Club event soon and rumor has it he’s getting enchanted candied oranges!” He nudged you with his elbow, prodding a smile out of you. “Eh? Eh? C’mon, I know you love ‘em.”

You met his eye with an intense squint, which he reciprocated, as the two of you battled for dominance. You gave in the minute he waved a new piece of toast, slathered in a generous layer of orange marmalade, in front of you which he had prepared as you were off doing business with the sixth year Gryffindors. You suddenly became aware of the food redistribution around your seat—the blackberry croissants, blackberry strudels, blackberry juices, blackberry jams and jellies, blackberry pancakes, and gleaming dishes laden with heaps of ant-like blackberries had all been pushed to the side, replaced by plates stacked with golden toasts, slices of peeled oranges, little clementines in bowls, a steaming pot of oatmeal, and a little ceramic duck which poured syrup out of its bill.

“I love you,” you mumbled through your toast, eyes watering with gratitude. “I love you, and I love orange marmalade.”

The fortunate consequence of running from the blackberry-infiltrated dining hall was facing an empty classroom and having the first choice of seats. Obviously, you both dove for the window seat on the left-most side of the middle row, which had the best view for when the giant squid passed by, was just the right distance from the front to be able to read the board while not getting cold called, and close enough to the supplies cabinet so that one could rush over and gather ingredients quickly without getting caught in a line. Regulus beat you to it.

“You know what, Reg? I’ve been having a great morning and am in a cheery, giving mood today, so I will let you take the window seat with the grace and poise of the pureblood Slytherin I am.” You slid into the seat next to him, throwing your head back to dangle over the seat.

“Did I hear you right? Finally coming around to the truth, Potter? You’re a pureblood, and nothing can change that, as much as James and your blood traitor parents might try and sully your line. You’re one of us, Potter.” Mulciber, a perpetually gumpy looking Slytherin, called out at you as he and Avery sat behind you.

“Oh sure, Mulciber. I’m one of you? Please enlighten me, what does that mean? That I’m a pureblooded pug breed who can’t differentiate between my left and right?” Avery barked, much to Mulciber’s frustration.

“Potter’s got a point, actually. Remember when you stirred four times counterclockwise instead of clockwise and your potion practically exploded? I swear I have a picture of you and your boils in the infirmary somewhere…”

You grinned at Avery, who held his hand up for a high five. Regulus slapped it out of the air instead. “I’m sorry Mulciber, I really, truly am, but if I ever get a tattoo, you best believe the first one will not be some crudely designed snake worming its way out of an anatomically incorrect skull—what even is that supposed to represent, the culmination of every Slytherin cliché?”

You patted Mulciber’s arm supportively. “It’s gonna be okay, big boy.” You reached into your bag and pressed a sugar quill into his hands—surprisingly well-manicured for such a gruff guy—as a way of amends.

“I’m only letting this slide because I have to, Potter. Slytherins have each others’ backs, as much as we may hate each other.” Mulciber bowed his head to hide a small smile. “But you can’t just bribe me with sugar quills next time.”

Slughorn’s heavy footsteps reverberated within the Potions dungeon as the last few stragglers settled into the front row.

“Look alive, folks!” Slughorn clapped his large hands together loudly, jerking more than a few students from their dozing. “Today, we’re going to be brewing…” He mimicked a drum roll on his knees, “Befuddlement Droughts!

You couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm, and while you weren’t alone in your appreciation for the chipper teacher, a chorus of poorly-concealed complaints filled the air. Slughorn pretended like he didn’t hear anything.

“Who can tell me what a Befuddlement Drought is?”

A couple of hands raised, but you and Regulus’s arms shot up immediately. Slughorn quirked an eyebrow, familiar with the academic competition between the two of you. This time, you were quicker than Regulus.

“The Befuddlement Drought causes the drinker to become belligerent and reckless, as it’s brewed with ingredients that stimulate the inflaming part of the brain.”

“Excellent, and what a wonderful addition about the ingredient properties! 10 points to Slytherin. Please pull out your textbooks and turn to page 351, where you’ll find the brewing recipe and instructions. Work with the person sitting next to you—and I don’t want any trouble, Mulciber and Avery!” You could feel the two boys shrink a little from behind you.

Regulus pulled out his copy of the textbook and slid it between you; you nodded gratefully. “I’ve got the aisle seat, so I’ll grab the ingredients.” Not even a minute after you were gone did Avery and Mulciber tap Regulus’ shoulders mischievously.

“So, anything going on between you and Potter? You two have been getting real cosy recently.”

“Mate, Potter and I have been ‘cosy’ since the first year. What about you? I’ve never seen you two apart, ‘ya off shagging in broom closets or something?” Regulus deadpanned. The three immediately shut up as you approached; you dropped the ingredients in front of your partner rather carelessly, with scurvy grass flying everywhere.

“Did I hear someone say shagging in broom closets? Are you two having a little passing period fun?” You snort, finding yourself incredibly funny. “Don’t worry, I can keep a secret.” You turned around only to see Slughorn’s face looming over yours.

“Alright, Potter. As good of a Potions student as you are, I will not tolerate any more talk of sexually-charged broom closet escapades in my classroom. Or making a mess of my scurvy grass! At some point, teachers pay out of pocket and grass is surprisingly expensive…” Professor Slughorn trailed off as he meandered through the desks to check up on other students. Avery and Mulciber raised an eyebrow at you, implying, is it just me, or is Slughorn off his rocker?

The sixth year Gryffindors were met with a slightly frazzled Slughorn and scurvy grass scattered on the dungeon floors. There were no questions as the professor paced behind his desk, visibly distraught. There were also no offers of help, nor condolences.

Sirius had insisted Lupin sit with him during Potions, as the former had no clue what the difference between an essence and an elixir was, while the latter was well versed in the assigned readings. James and Peter sat just beside them, separated by an impractically small path, as Slughorn couldn’t seem to comfortably fit and often had to waddle sideways, much to the awkwardness of the students. The only benefit to the desk spacing was being close enough to pass notes and whisper stealthily enough to avoid being caught.

“Excuse the floor, sixth-years! I haven’t yet gotten a chance to clean up… or emotionally recover… after the last class. However, I have a treat for you all!” Slughorn pulled out a polished cauldron, emitting dancing wisps of steam that seemed to glimmer in the flicker of candlelight. “Somebody tell me what this is, please!” He swiped the sleeve of his robe over his forehead to dry the perspiration there, looking as if he wanted to retire right then and there. What in Godric’s name did the last class get up to?

“Ms. McKinnon, take it away!” Slughorn gestured limply towards Marlene, who shot Dorcas a concerned look at the state of their teacher before answering.

“It’s Amortentia, professor, the most powerful love potion in existence. It causes a powerful, obsessive state of infatuation in the drinker, usually for the potion’s brewer. It’s recognizable for its mother-of-pearl sheen and steam characterized by its spirals. It’s considered very dangerous, as its effects can completely alter one’s brain function and autonomy.”

“Great job, McKinnon. Five points to Gryffindor. Yes, Amortentia will be one of the potions you’ll need to know to prepare for your N.E.W.T.s next year, along with Veritaserum and Polyjuice Potion, which we will cover in later classes. Today we will simply be observing the properties of Amortentia and indulging a little in its effects. For next week, you are to turn in three pages of parchment on the neurological effects of Amortentia and the role each ingredient plays in the potion in preparation to actually begin brewing the potion.”

“Three pages, are you kidding?” James’ harsh whisper cut through Slughorn’s droning. “We have a Gryffindor-Slytherin quidditch match this weekend! How does he expect us to write three whole pages? Plus, he’s the head of Slytherin—if he’s not gonna go easy for our sakes, he should at least think about helping out the Slytherin team!”

“Keep it down, Prongs. Lily is judging you real hard right now.” Peter spoke out of the corner of his mouth, not even bothering to turn his head. James’ posture immediately straightened, but as he was preparing to turn around and send the love of his life a cheeky wink, he thought of what you had said that weekend. Fuck. He hated when you were right.

“Thinking about what your sister said, Prongs?” Sirius whispered with his cheek resting lazily in the palm of his hand. “You really are incapable of communicating with Evans without flirting, aren’t you?” James groaned, slouching even deeper into his chair than before with his arms crossed over his chest, lips pouted.

“Shut up, Padfoot.”

Peter chimed in. “Yeah, it’s not like you can ever talk to Prongs’ sister without flirting.” Lupin looked at Peter murderously. If the Amortentia was dangerous, Lupin was more so.

“Excuse me? You and my sister talk? You guys flirt when I’m not there? Mate, are you hitting her? You’ve got to be shitting me, you could have anyone and you pick my little-” James hadn’t realized how loud he had become until Slughorn came up from behind and whacked him with a thick stack of lesson plans. Remus looked like he wanted to die.

“Prongs, you know it’s not like that. Pads goes around shagging anyone who looks his way, which is basically everyone; he’s just like that. It’s nothing more than teasing, and you know he cares about you enough to know your sister’s off limits.” Remus emphasized the last few words with a well placed kick to Sirius’ shin. Sirius’s single piece of potions knowledge came into play at that moment.

Why does my stomach suddenly feel like a bezoar?

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

masterlist | series masterlist | next chapter

#sirius x you #sirius x reader #sirius black #sirius black series #sirius orion black #maurauders era #maurauders series #mauraders #the marauders imagine #sirius imagine #reader insert

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heniareth · 3 years ago

Note

I was really curious about what your opinions on the DAO companions are :) I know we have talked about some, but I'd love to hear more and about the others as well :D I hope it's ok to pose this as an ask :)

Sure! That sounds like a ton of fun. This might be a long one tho. Mind you, this is not the finished version of the answer. I'd like to link stuff and add a cut, but rn that's not possible. I'll update it when I can.

Edit: I have updated it ^^

Let's go alphabetically bc why not.

Alistair:

Sweet guy. So sweet. There was a moment when I was hard pressed chosing between him and Zevran (alas, Zevran won). Also, he's weirdly tall according to the wiki? How did I not notice that before?

Let's get a bit more serious now, Alistair is a great guy. The only reason he's not the hero of the story is because he doesn't want to. He has all the qualities of a leader: he's good at dealing with conflict (as evident with the conversation with the mage at the beginning. He gets where he wants to get without antagonizing the mage, but without allowing him to trample all over him). He's a solid tactitian and knows how to make allies (he suggests to use the Grey Warden treaties, after all). I bet if he was in the leadership position, he'd even not bicker with Morrigan. His moral code is pretty tight; some might say too tight, but I think it's less about the moral code and more about learning to judge people by their actions, not by the labels they fit into (Morrigan is a proud apostate and therefore bad. Wynne is a humble circle mage and therefore good). He also has a bit of a black-and-white way of seeing the world. I empathize a lot with Alistair, especially with his experience with the Chantry and his subsequent reluctance to deal with it. I really wish I had gotten to know more about concrete experiences he had during his training as templar, but he seems reluctant to talk about it (gee, I wonder why).

Since I've only played the game once, I haven't really picked up on Arl Eamon's abuse towards him, which apparently exists (Isolde, however... I mean, even if he were Eamon's illegitimate son, he's a kid, ma'am, he didn't exactly get to chose his parents. So that's so not okay). Alistair's way of speaking about them both, however, is either sign that he has not come within a hundred miles of acknowledging how much it hurt him, or that he's already gone through the whole process and has decided to forgive them. The latter shows a very strong character; yes, he relies on the approval and leadership of others, he has his issues, but he's already started working on them.

That being said, irl Alistair would be like a little brother to me. I'd tease him relentlessly (all in good fun and I promise to stop if it makes him uncomfortable, but he's just so teasable). I still wish the videogame gave him the chance to take important decisions for himself. But that, of course, would somewhat defeat the point of the game.

Leliana:

Another sweet, sweet person. Her singing voice is amazing. Her belief in the Maker inspires me (I'm a religious person and seeing religious characters represented in a positive light is Very Cool. It's also sometimes a source of discomfort, because the Church has done a lot of very messed up stuff and positive representation can sometimes veer into apologetics for things that should not be excused, but that's a whole other can of worms. The bottom line is that religious characters sometimes work for me and other times don't and Leliana works for me very much bc she's an outsider inside the Chantry).

Leliana is best friend material, tbh. I'd love to get to know her irl, discuss theology and philosophy and maybe even politics? She makes mistakes and has prejudices, but, tbh, so do I. And I do get the feeling that she tries her best to learn. From the times she intervenes in a conversation between the Warden and an NPC, she shows herself to be compassionate and open to the needs of others. What I get from her character is that she genuinely wants to help, which is something that I adore of her. I suspect that she sometimes has a hard time deciding wether she's a good person or not. She has killed and seduced and worked for a morally dubious person, and she doesn't show the same nonchalance about it as Zevran (though they both do discuss their line of work in very... professional terms). This is, however, more of a headcanon than actual factual canon.

I also very much enjoy her girly side, like her interest in shoes and dresses. She's one badass woman who also looses her cool about the latest fashions in Val Royeaux. I like that. Between her and Alistair, a non human noble Warden has as good a help to navigate the Fereldan court as they're going to get. Leliana is also, I can't forget that, clever and insightful. It'd be easy to write her off as the innocent chantry girl, but she's so much more than that. Her kindness is paired with foresight, I think. She knows that taking on the trouble to help now can go a long way in the future. I just have a lot of respect for her.

Loghain:

This one's gonna be short bc I didn't recruit him. He's an amazing villain and would probably be a great Warden as well. He reminds me of Denerhor from LOTR; once a hero/stewart of his people, ambition and desperation have driven them both down a terrible path. I have also only little idea about his past. People say he lost a lot, and I believe it wholeheartedly; it doesn't excuse the fact that he plunged the country into a civil war in the middle of a Blight. I don't have a lot of sympathy for short-sighted politicians. I wish he hadn't made himself regent. That's what I take away from his character.

Edit: One thing I forgot to mention that really impressed me was his death. I had Alistair duel him (that was a rough duel), and then it kinda just jumped to a cutscene of my Warden nodding and Alistair executing him. That didn't sit well with me. I didn't want to kill Loghain, and less so in front of Anora. But what impressed me was that Loghain just accepted it. That takes a whole lot of guts. Compare that to Howe's death, and how he screams out that he deserved (more, probably, or anything but death) and it's crystal clear who the more noble of the two is. Loghain strikes me as very lawful neutral, and any neutral alignment has the particularity that it can be dragged towards good or bad, sometimes without the characters noticing it (which is interesting from a DnD perspective; neutral is often concieved of as just as stable as good or evil, but that may not be true. But that's a different post). Anyway, Loghain's death was impactful.

Morrigan:

I could kick myself for not maxing out her approval in the first play-through. I got to enjoy a bit of her friendship by the end of it and boy was even that little bit worth it. Friendship with Morrigan is something that is hard-won. It's all the more precious because of that.

Morrigan is full of paradoxes, I think. She's incredibly wise in some ways, yet also very short-sighted (”just kill them, don't solve their problems”. Morrigan, dear, I'm not going to gain a lot of allies if I kill everybody who poses a problem to me). She is so intelligent, but emotionally... not so. She knows so much about some things, and very little about the next. She's incredibly wilful and knows what she wants, but follows Flemeth's orders all the time through. She hungers for power and independence, yet craves closeness, but won't allow herself to have it. She asks you to prove yourself to her and is extremely critical of your actions, I think, because she's afraid. She bites the hand that feeds her because it might hit her next.

Like with Eamon, I haven't managed to catch the undercurrent of abuse that seems to permeate Flemeth's relationship with Morrigan. Except there are signs, because there must be something Morrigan is scared of and who has instilled all that rage in her, and that's Flemeth. Also, she clearly hates/does not care about her and wants her dead (unless killing Flemeth was part of Flemeth's plan as well? Hm.)

Morrigan is that one person who you are nice to, continuously, because nobody else is. And suddenly she becomes less cold. And then friendly. And suddenly you're asking yourself why everybody hates her, because she's a really good friend! I just wish the other companions came to a similar conclusion, especially Alistair and Wynne.

Oghren:

They did this man dirty. He has such great lines and I'm convinced he was a great person before Branka disappeared. He has that dwarven warrior spirit, and while he looks like Gimli, some of his most impactful lines remind me of Dwalin or even Thorin Oakenshield himself. He could be so noble had he gotten some character development, damnit!

Oghren as he is written is somewhat disgusting. I hate the lechering comments and the drunkenness. And still, I don't hate him because of those amazing lines he has when he's actually sober. It's frustrating and I'll give him that character development myself if the game won't. I strongly associate the song Whiskey Lullaby with him, bc that's how he would have ended up if the Warden hadn't taken him along (warning: the song talks about suicide and alcoholism). Like I said, they could have done such cool things with his character. As he is written now... it's just sad. Moments of lucidity drowned in alcohol and creepy jokes. As you can see, I don't blame the character for either. The alcoholism happens all too often irl. The creepy jokes... I put that one on the writers' tab.

I actually think Oghren could have been a great mentor figure (I know, I shock myself as well sometimes). Next to the Grey Wardens, the ones who know most about fighting darkspawn are the dwarves because they have to deal with them constantly. Especially a warrior caste dwarf like Oghren could have brought a lot of that invaluable knowledge to the team, especially since there are no Grey Wardens in Ferelden but two extremely green recruits. Next, you get the chance to give Oghren the command of the teammates you leave behind in the battle of Denerim with the reason that he has lead men into battle before. Where did that suddenly come from? Oghren should have been right up there telling my Warden that they were doing this wrong, that they needed more food (and booze) and a confident leader to keep the armies they've called together going. Oghren should have been able to tell my civilian city elf who got recruited into the Grey Wardens a six months ago how one leads an army. How one presents oneself to inspire confidence, how one doesn't crack under the pressure, how one gets the leaders of said armies (some who hate each others guts i.e. Dalish elves and humans) to work together. And, last but not least, Oghren could have had a great story about grief. This is a man who has lost most of what made him (and what he hasn't lost he's spilling down the drain with every mug of ale). This is a man who, if you take him into the Deep Roads, has to see what his wife did to his family, how his wife got absolutely obsessed, and can be forced to kill said wife or watch her die. All Wardens loose their home and families at the start of the story. It would really have rounded the whole narrative out if the Warden and Oghren could have recognised their grief in each other and hashed it out somehow. Such as it is, Oghren is a depressed drunkard and there is nothing we can do about that. I find that frustrating.

Rascal (a.k.a. Dog):

Best boy. 100/10. I wish we had gotten to see the reaction of the different origins to the mabari (because elves probably have a whole different experience with them from mages or humans. And dwarves just... I think they straight up have none? XD). Other than that, no complaints. The name Rascal was the one I gave my dog because you have to be a right rascal to survive what he did and play the pranks he plays. Smartest breed in the world indeed.

Shale:

Shale is one of those characters that I recruited rather late in the game, so I haven't had the chance to explore their personality and worldview, really. I didn't even get to take them to the Deep Roads (this will be ammended in playthrough nr. 2). As such, I don't have particularly strong opinions on them (or her? The wiki refers to Shale as 'it', but that sounds weird). But, because I know so little about Shale, I have a lot of questions. First, what were they like before they were a golem? Shayle, as she was called then, was the best warrior of her time if I remember correctly. Why did she become a golem? Was it to be able to eternally protect her people? Was the sarcasm the golem Shale exhibits also part of the dwarven warrior Shayle or did that come later (if for thirty years you have nobody to talk to but yourself, you better be entertaining. And I can imagine how it could make somebody terribly jaded as well).

Next, how attached is Shale to their golem form, exactly? According to the banter, they infinitely prefer it to a squishy fleshy form. If that is the case, however, why go to Tevinter to try and become a squishy dwarf again? It's not like that process could be reversed if they wanted to become a golem again; if Shale survives to the end of the game, the Anvil of the Void is destroyed and Caridin is dead. Was the whole spiel about their indestructible form a façade? It might have been, but not because Shale actually disliked their form. I think it would have more to do with the loss of their memories and with the very invasive experiments and alterations of Shale's body made by the mage Wilhelm. The loss of memories means that Shale is unable to remember life as a fleshy creature. They might be deflecting by pretending that they didn't care for that experience anyway because of the superiority of their golem form. The modifications made to their form by Wilhelm would have alienated them from their body. In light of this, it's significant that Shale asks the Warden to decorate their form with crystals.

All of this is, of course, pure speculation. I may have easily missed or forgotten details that would disprove the above thoughts. All in all, I like Shale and I hope we meet them again in DA4 (given that it's mostly set in Tevinter). It's a liking from a respectful distance, because Shale is tall and made out of rock and also way more experienced than I will ever be (they are literally the oldest member of the Warden's little Blight fighting squad).

Sten:

Sten is another person I'd keep a respectful distance from physically. That seems to be the what he would prefer, at least. I've enjoyed his character a lot, especially because he seems pretty clear-cut at first, but slowly lets the nuance of his person show (gruff and stoic, but then he has an eye for art, a sweet tooth and he likes cute animals). It's also very interesting that there's no moment when you learn "the truth" about him the way you do with Zevran or Leliana. There's no big reveal about his life under the Qun before coming to Ferelden. He says he was sent to monitor the Blight, but honestly? If neither Ferelden nor Orlais knew there was a Blight, how could the Qunari know? I think he's lying, and he takes his secrets back with him when he leaves Ferelden. And yet I think I know him enough to say that a Warden who has become friends with him has nothing to fear from Sten.

One thing I find very interesting about Sten is how he thinks. His conversation about how women can't be soldiers has been analysed a lot on this page I think. He seems to be arguing based on a different paradigma than the one the Warden has. He also seems to have a very clear-cut view of the world. What is fascinating to me is that, when arguing with the Warden and learning about their culture, he is not necessarily becoming more lax about his worldview. I think it's more likely that he is expanding his paradigma, the structure of thought through which he understands the world. I don't think that he is now convinced that women can be warriors as well. I think he rather understands that, in Ferelden, the relationship between occupation and gender is different than under the Qun. Which of the two he thinks is more right or more agreeable, I have no idea. I'm also not very interested in that. But I find it fascinating how he always seems to be looking on quietly, gathering data, classifying it and trying to fit it into his understanding of how the world works. I wouldn't be surprised at all if his original party was a scouting party to see how vulnerable Ferelden was at that moment to outside forces. One thing I don't understand with all of this is why he urges the Warden to meet the Blight head on. No smart soldier would suggest that, except if they are foolishly proud (and Sten doesn't seem like that kind of guy tbh). I get that the Warden takes way longer to gather allies than expected because they first have to solve all of their allies' problems. But surely Sten sees the need to have allies? Is he just that impatient? Does he have a death wish (à la, I lost my sword and am without honour, better to die sooner than later and in glorious battle)? Was he his group's previous commander and is he now having trouble following somebody else's orders? Or maybe it's his way to make sure the Warden knows what they are doing? To push them into becoming the self-assured commander their allies will need once they're all gathered? I really don't know. I like the last option best, however.

For me, Sten is my fellow, more experienced soldier. Like Alistair, he can potentially be the Warden's brother in arms, but he's definitely the older brother here. He probably doesn't take kindly to tearful confessions of how hard everything is, but I feel like he's otherwise a solid rock to lean on. I feel like the Warden can trust him to do what is necessary and count on him no matter what, especially after they get his sword back. His devotion from that point on is honestly so powerful.

Wynne:

Wynne was such a support for my Warden (except with the whole conversation about love vs. duty and that she may have to choose between Zevran and ending the Blight and that she should therefore break up with him. Wynne had a point. Astala was so not willing to sacrifice her relationship with Zevran. But the whole conversation came at a point where she was already so disillusioned that she blew up in Wynne's face (”can i please just have one (1) nice thing????”)). But all in all, Wynne is great.

She has a lot of flaws. She was very marked by her life in the Cricle and, for all her age, she has little experience living outside of it. She is also a conformist despite her strong moral core. In a way, her ability to find peace with her lot in life impresses me deeply because it speaks to a lot of strength of character. Sadly, however, strength can be ill applied and used to suppress. I think she has convinced herself that the Chantry is right under (almost) all circumstances to be able to rationalize the life that mages live. She's had her son taken away from her as a baby and an apprentice killed. Her reaction seems to have been to convince herself that this was right, or for the greater good (and now I'm thinking about the Guardian's question at the temple of Andraste's Ashes; are you wise or do you just repeat what others have told you? The answer is not as clear-cut as it might be). This is why she is so irritated by Zevran and Morrigan. By aligning herself with the Chantry, she is, in her eyes, good. Zevran and Morrigan are not; they do not conform to Chantry morality and they defend themselves tooth and nails against somebody who would try and convert them. This is something Wynne never allowed herself to do; she always did the "right" thing and it has cost her so much. I'm not saying she was right (it would probably have done her some good to rebel from time to time, and to trust her own gut instinct more), but in light of this, it hardly surprises me that she's so judgamental. She has to be, or she would be forced to confront all the evil she has not fought against all those years and all the hurt that has been caused to her by the very institution she protects (and thank God she only tries to argue and can appreciate it when people have found a good life outside of her comfort zone. If she tried to convince by force or, for example, drag her former apprentice back to the Circle... boy oh boy that would get ugly). If you think about it, Wynne really is a good example for what happens if you live by a philosophy of always choosing the lesser evil.

Something that I keep forgetting over her grandmotherly and dignified character is how damn powerful she is. She has escaped the carnage at Ostagar; HOW!? She protected those mage apprentices in the Circle tower for God knows how long. In the battle of Denerim, she wades through an army and comes out alive on the other side. The wiki lists her age at 40, I think, but that doesn't make a lick of sense unless 75 years of age are the Fereldan equivalent to 100. This lady, about whom people make grandmother jokes, did all that. It's impressive.

Zevran:

You know, I would really love to know what Wynne thinks about the events at Kirkwall in DA2. It might be a disaster for her, or it might pave the way for one last bit of character development. She certainly didn't want to return to the Circle after fighting the Blight. That may be an indicator of some change in her stance on the Circle of Magi.

Edit: I forgot that she is what the Circle considers a literal abomination! Holy cow, how could I forget that?? Anyway, her conversation about what being an abomination means is so... heartbreaking, actually. It's so tentative. So careful. "Am I an abomination? Am I the same thing that has killed my students? The same thing as Uldred? Am I lost and damned? Did I invite this spirit in? Is this my fault?" Like wow, Wynne is going through something huge right there. I love it. I have to continue playing the game to see what it ends up as, but it's fascinating and such a huge thing that she allows the Warden in on that.

Ah, Zevran, my beloved (he has stolen my heart so much it's not even funny anymore). He's funny, he's charming, he's so so loyal and it breaks my heart. Zevran is the one about whom I've read most meta: these three wonderful posts for instance, as well as this one about his possible lack of scars, and this one about his lack of freedom. All of these have influenced my opinion of him and they are great reads.

I have talked about Zevran with you before, so I'll just skip to the new stuff. I have come to conclusion that Zevran is an artist at heart. This is totally not biased by the fact that I also do art, but hear me out. One of his preferred gifts are bars of silver and gold. While those have the obvious utility of basically functioning as money (they can be sold to any silversmith or goldsmith and their value is pretty stable through time and in different countries), there's also this from his codex: "Zevran shows an affinity for the finer things in life—hardly surprising for an Antivan Crow—but his appreciation can be more poetic than he lets on. A simple bar of refined silver or gold, uncomplicated by a craftsman's hammer, is elegantly valuable." Tell me that is not an artist's eye that sees that gold and sees the beauty in it. Then, there's also the meta about Zevran the Seducer which I linked above and link here again. It talks specifically about how he lets himself enjoy the target and be seen in his enjoyment. Tell me that is not an artist's eye that beholds the beauty of something he is set out to destroy. Even his talk about his assassinations show this. He talks about it as an art, the way somebody would talk about the brutal intervention in stone that produces a sculpture. Yes, it's a rationalization of the act of killing and yes killing is still wrong. But he doesn't go on about it on a moral tangent the way Alistair or Wynne would (”this person was bad, killing them was necessary”) or even through the argument of survival like Morrigan would (”it was either them or me and it sure as Hell wasn't going to be me”). He talks about the pleasure of a job well done, of the satisfaction of striking the precise point and executing a plan to the perfection so as to minimize chances of discovery and to make a clean death possible. And pleasure in seeing and in doing, this I firmly believe, is absolutely fundamental for an artist.

My favourite part about my Warden and Zevran as a pairing is that Zevran precisely brings out that ability to take your pleasures as they come and to really savour them. Fighting the Blight is tough; it's so important to find good things amidst the chaos to stay sane. If Astala saves Zevran from himself by offering him a place to stay and a purpose, Zevran saves Astala from herself by keeping her from running herself into the ground trying to save the world.

There are some things I don't like about Zev. The incessant flirting, for example, sometimes makes me uncomfortable (it becomes enjoyable for me once the Warden and him are in a relationship, but before that? Nah, no thanks). I wish he would also leave the other female characters alone (and there's so many more shameless comments of his aimed at Morrigan, Leliana or Wynne than at Alistair or maybe even Sten).

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And that's my take on the Origins companions (this was rather long. Whew ^^' I hope it was still readable and that you enjoyed it!!) Thank you so much for the ask!! It's been a joy thinking about this. I was worrying at first that the less prominent companions like Sten or Shale wouldn't get as much content but... well XD

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cozycryptidcorner · 4 years ago

Photo

Avery the Fae/Reader, Lemon

You don’t dress up for Halloween.

Not your fault, though, really, because your professors show no mercy for holidays, especially not ones that don’t land them a day off. Classes go on as usual, and so you wake up the latest you can without risking a tardy and go off in the comfortable clothes you slept in. Except for some cat ears and one superman, everything is perfectly normal, and the day passes like almost every other, save for a ‘spooky drink’ coupon at the local cafe.

I probably don’t even need a costume, anyways, you think as you catch your reflection when passing those special mirror-like windows on one of the campus’ buildings. Frankly, you look like you crawled out of hell itself. Dark circles under your eyes from lack of sleep, hair all askew and uncooperative, mouth in a permanent stressed line.

A zombie, probably, you decide, taking a sip of that hot caffeinated mess you ordered from the cafe. A hot zombie, for sure, but a zombie no less. A part of you wants to skip your next class and take a nap, but you’ve already used up your one absence, and you aren’t in a position to risk your grade for sleep. No rest for the wicked, right? Right. Everything else goes as smoothly as can be expected for being sleep deprived, and the night class seems to drag on for a fully stretched eternity, but you are finally free to go home and do your five hours of homework. Maybe if you’re lucky, you can squeeze in two or three hours of sleep.

It’s because you’re tired, you think, stopping for a hot minute when you realize that you’re lost. You hadn’t been paying attention to campus’ many twists and turns in its paths, and so you must have wandered away from the buildings and onto the forest trail that hugs the dorms, except there’s no cement beneath your feet. Not even a dirt trail marks a way out, and you take a full moment to come to terms with being lost, on your own damn campus, no less. You aren’t any kind of simpering pansy, so you turn around and begin to retrace your steps. Which doesn’t work, unfortunately, because after a couple of minutes of walking, there’s nothing to suggest that you’re only a couple of paces from civilization.

Except a drum beat, behind you. It’s faint, probably a half-mile away, but it’s the closest thing you have to a way back, especially since your phone can’t seem to pick up any signal. Maybe one of the school’s many bands are practicing? Right, you’re just going to stumble out into the football field, twigs in your hair, looking very much like you’ve gotten into a fist-fight with the entire forest…

And… Not a band, you realize, stepping into a clearing, but a party.

A costume party, too, by the looks of it, with everyone in soft, flittery clothing and fitted masks. Interesting how everyone seems to be on the same page with the dress code, there’s usually that one dick who shows up in a hotdog suit, regardless of any previous agreements. Elegant is the word you’re looking for, you decide, running into something tall and solider, correction: running into someone tall and solid.

“Oh, hey, sorry,” you apologize, shifting your weight on either foot, “I’m a little lost.”

“I think that you are right where you want to be,” your stranger says, mouth turning up into a strange, fanged smile. His black mask is trimmed with gold, and it doesn’t seem like he’s costuming as anything specific; rather, it appears to be just for anonymity.

“I think I really want to be in bed,” you say, trying to share a mutual we’re in college and want to die of exhaustion moment, but he doesn’t respond with the same energy.

“Perhaps a drink of wine before you go?” He offers, holding out an actual goblet of some kind. Maybe the metal-working students pitched in? Or accepted a particular commissioned order? It looks like genuine gold, which adds to the whole aesthetic of the party.

“Uh,” don’t accept drinks you haven’t seen made, “I’m good for now, really. Just trying to get back home to study.”

“Hm,” he says, taking a good swig from the goblet he had just offered, “good question. Through the trees from whence you came, most likely.”

Of fucking course, he’s drunk and doesn’t know left from right. Great. What an excellent position you’ve put yourself in. Frustrated and confident he wouldn’t roofie himself, you snatch the goblet from his hand and down several large gulps of shockingly sweet wine, maybe a sangria? Or something sugared up to be palatable?

Swirling the goblet around, to seem sophisticated, you ask, “so is this some kind of rich person party? Like an Illuminati meeting or something?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you speak of.”

“Right.” You draw out the single syllable, landing hard on the t. LARPers, probably, but not unattractive ones. Those masks don’t hide everything, and the shape of his jaw is not something to balk at, and those lips? Not to be forward in your own brain or anything, but they’re certainly decent to look at. This has to be some kind of weird-ass club, or like a rich dumbass ritual or something, definitely not your average frat party with a variety of random drugs mixed into the mystery punch. “Do you go to school here?”

He looks down at your university sweatshirt, cocking his head slightly. “A place of learning, is it? No, I’m afraid I have not attended such an institution, but I must admit that I have been tempted.”

“Well,” you take another sip of wine, “it’s not bad, as far as universities go. With decent financial aid, too.”

“Best not to drink too much of that,” your stranger says, “it’s much stronger than it tastes, and it’s best you stay clear-headed for the evening’s festivities.”

“One cup can’t hurt,” you say, and then realize that he’s just volunteered you to join in on the fun. Which is kind of weird, you guess, but then again, you aren’t going to complain. This is a way more interesting place to spend your evening, but might as well prop your backpack underneath one of the tables, hiding it beneath the skirt of the pale white cloth. You eye the unmarked bottle that one of the party-goers holds, but set your goblet down by the expensive-looking chinaware, flexing your fingers as they begin to tingle with the warmness that comes with alcohol. “What’s the party’s theme?”

He cocks his head, as though confused.

“Like a…” you try to think of a different way to phrase it. “A topic you pick, and everyone has to adhere to it. The people here all look like they’re, like, what Victorian thought the fairies looked like or something. I think it’s the clothes.”

“We are Faeries, though,” he says, the sides of his mouth curving upwards.

“Hm,” you say, “of course you are.”

“Join me for this dance?” Your stranger asks instead of any rebuttals, holding out a hand.

You look over at the band that plays, masks of distinct animal-like features flickering in the light of the bonfire roaring in the center of the clearing, all instruments vaguely familiar, yet not. Some of them you think you’ve seen before, at maybe renaissance-themed festivals, but the others must be from some kind of distinctly obscure genre of music.

The heat from the fire seems to lick out at your fingers, or maybe it’s the alcohol, already making its way through your system, but you stare, transfixed, at the way the lyre player plucks at the strings of their instrument. The quick movement plays too much with your eyes, you barely see anything more than the blurs of fingers, and you suddenly realize that you are swaying in place.

“I don’t know how,” you say, snapping out of whatever trance you had been in.

“It’s rather simple, come here,” he takes one of your hands, shockingly not unwelcome. Perhaps the warmth of his skin against yours brings you a kind of peace that you need during this period of your life. “I will teach you.”

Your stranger is correct; the dance is fairly simple to learn, mostly because there are very few rules. Sway your hips. Let your feet bounce against the soft forest floor. Let him spin you around and around until your head almost feels light. You’ll be honest, he’s the one doing all the work, guiding you, adding more flair to your steps, one hand resting on your waist, the other weaving its fingers with yours. Now, you may not be one to go out and ballroom dance on the fly, but you would be alright admitting that this is kind of fun.

So you dance. And you dance. And you continue dancing, letting the music remove you from time and space, everything else fades away except for the thrumming drumbeat, the wind in the trees, and your partner. You don’t feel the need to gasp for air, nor do your legs give out and collapse, but you aren’t even aware of how much time has passed. You dance out your pain, your stress, and any alcohol that lingers in your system, a layer of sweat keeping your body cool in the autumn night’s air. An eternity, perhaps, a small piece of infinity shared between you and this stranger, or the briefest of moments that still yield the most intimate bit of time that two people can share.

The song ends- or perhaps, the band finally runs out of music to play. You don’t know what time it is, but you aren’t finished with the party, not yet. The stranger sets his hands on both your hips, eyes as red as the fires of hell, and offers you a promising smile, his shirt loosely clinging to his body, having lost the fancily embroidered vest at some point while dancing.

“Do you want to get out of here?” You ask, making a snap decision not to let the night go to waste.

His smile widens.

The trees are your only audience when he brings you away from the rest of the party, the moon staring over the tops of the red and yellow leaves. The chill of the night might have discouraged anyone else, but you are broiling with energy and ready to continue moving wildly to keep warm. Despite barely being out of sight, you’re already working on his clothes, trying to find velcro or snaps of a cheap costume and failing rather miserably. He seems amused with your attempts, guiding your hands to find a variation of ties and buttons. Soon enough, you have his shirt off, his pale skin gleaming in the moonlight, revealing a chest etched in dozens of tattoos, red like blood against his pale skin, though it’s too dark to make out precisely what they are.

He seems to have a destination in mind, even though you steal most of his attention with kisses and touches. Even though you are in a place you’re sure no one would bother finding you in, he still seems determined to herd your desperate body further away from the camp, until the both of you get to a clearing, free of roots strangling the ground. Jupiter and Saturn stare blankly down from their perches in the sky, the stars surrounding them twinkling, as though applauding your conquest.

“I didn’t catch your name,” you gasp after a breathless kiss.

He pauses, almost put off by the request, like he’s startled you would even ask. Before you can even regain the ability to feel nervous, he says, “Avery.”

“Avery,” you repeat, running your fingers through his hair. “That’s a nice name.”

“And what may I call you?”

Like a fool, you give up your first name without much thought, but you are too excited about where the night is going to remember what you said even a second later. It doesn’t seem to matter, though, because his mouth is against yours, and your back is on the cold, dewy grass before you even register that he pulled your legs off balance. He’s a good kisser, you think hazily, his lips traveling down from your mouth to your collarbone. His mouth is nice and hot against your skin, already sending pleasant little shivers down your spine as he works, and you find yourself grasping at the cold, dying grass of the earth in order to pull your spirit back to reality.

The insides of your belly melt as he lifts your shirt up over your breasts, and you’re quick to discard the garment as he sucks at the skin just above the hemline of your pants. He needs help with the button and the zipper, his lithe fingers struggling to figure out the mechanics, so you undo everything for him. After letting out a thankful grunt, he leans forward, pressing his lips right on your stomach, sucking hard enough to leave a red mark that may bruise in the morning.

Then he kisses the skin just above where your underwear ends, a jolting shiver pulsing through your core at the contact. When you glance down at him, the barest light emanating from the roaring bonfire only a few meters away, he seems so… focused, you think, at his task of slowly stripping the last bit of fabric away from your body. Methodically, he tugs, fingers threading through the straps at the side, his eyes glimmering in the light bleeding out from the moon herself.

Slowly, steadily, he presses his mouth where your leg and torso meet, nibbling at a bit of flesh before moving ever so slightly downwards, opening your legs and seemingly liking what he finds down there. Carefully avoiding any of your puckered, wet skin, he instead moves his lips just to the side, clearly enjoying the act of driving you to the brink of insanity. You can feel the smile he wears as he teases you further, switching over to your other thigh.

Almost impatiently, you wrap one of your legs around his shoulder, arching your back when he finally lashes his tongue out to trace the outline of your flower. A heated spark ignites through your nerves, a charge of fiery need flooding your body and into your core. He seems to enjoy the breathless whine you offered in response because he does it again, inching closer and closer to your clit.

Roughly, you tangle your fingers into his long, flowing hair, pulling him closer and begging with no words for him to stop teasing and finally give you the pleasure you need. Avery finally complies, pressing his tongue right up against your clit and tracing little circles on and around it. The heat of his breath only helps further stir the coals in your womb, your back arching against the gentle curve of the world as you cry out.

He seems to deeply enjoy your keening, popping off your puckered flesh in the brief moment it takes for him to smile up at you, like a beast satisfied with the tortured screams of its prey. The way his tongue moves up, around, and down your clit makes you want to die, dirt clinging underneath your fingernails, bits of grass tearing as you claw at the ground. Still, he takes your keening reaction to double his efforts, using his fingers when his mouth is busy elsewhere, rubbing gentle little patterns in the opening of your slit.

There, you can feel your orgasm approaching as he begins to explore your core with his thumb, pushing and rubbing against the throbbing folds with some level of curiosity in his eyes.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, a passing observation.

You’re so beyond the point of return that you could barely even draw in the words to thank him before you’re overcome with shaking trembles emanating from your very core, your insides quick to bend and break at his beckoning. It doesn’t take much more teasing from Avery before you’re crying out for him, voice cracking with pleasure and desperation, your fingers threading through his hair so tightly you don’t know where you end, and he begins.

When you are nothing more than a heaping, teary-eyed mass of trembling flesh on the ground, he crawls up from between your legs, kisses your stomach, your ribs, your breasts, your collarbone, all the way up to your mouth once more. You can taste yourself on his tongue and lips, warmer than the wine and almost twice as intoxicating, and by the wild stare in his eyes, he’s drunk with your nectar. And, quite frankly, ready to devour you, his kisses all teeth and heat, mouth dexterous against the curves, rises, and plateaus of your body, like he knows so very intimately every square centimeter of you.

There’s a hard rock length against your stomach, one that you can feel, almost tragically against your skin as he lavishes your lips and chest with his blessed attention. Even though you walked into this situation expecting a one-night stand, you don’t know, this feels light it could rocket through your life and end up becoming

“More,” you rasp, surprised that your voice is even working, ” more.”

He understands that rough and demanding command, stroking your hair with one of his free hands, mouth offering up a myriad of kisses to your neck and collarbone, an odd, overcoming need to please you emanating off of him, one like you’ve never dealt with before. Out of the corner of your eye, you think you see the familiar masks of those at the party earlier, but Avery turns your wandering gaze back to him with his insistent, feral kiss, his chest trembling with heated need.

“Do you want my cock inside you?” He asks, wanting to hear you say it.

“Please,” you almost snarl, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Hmm,” he almost manages to fool you that he could care less, but by the way his body grinds and presses against yours, he’s so, so close to traveling the radius of the earth itself to comply. You can hear the rustle of fabric as he strips away what’s left of his ensemble, moving away from your body and leaving you almost horrifically cold.

It doesn’t take a lot for him to angle your legs properly, your thigh rubbing up against his throbbing member. He’s at least gentle with how he impales you, his entrance slow and gradual, kaleidoscope eyes staring so intently into your very being that you wonder if you’ll survive the next time pleasure crashes down around you. And he feels so good, the crisp, autumn grass against your back the only thing keeping you from becoming so lost beneath his trembling body.

He must share your thoughts because even though he’s only eased in, his forehead pressed against yours, his breathing is short and shallow like he could hardly believe the pleasure your body gives him. Once he’s fully sheathed, he swears, voice quiet, yet filled to the brim with lust. You wrap your legs around his waist, hoping to feel him further, your voice and your body begging him to continue, to move, but he’s almost in a trance.

You’re impatient for movement, for that slick friction between your thighs, so you quickly take matters into your own hands. With no finesse, fueled only by spite and determination, you shift, switching positions using your legs and arms. Avery simply rolls with it, a ghostly smile on his mouth as you pin his hands to the ground, chest heaving from the effort, a layer of sweat misting your skin despite the chill of the night.

That seems to break whatever space he had retreated to, eyes lit like a roaring forest fire as he beholds your body from beneath your legs. His voice is raspy, but the demand is calm, collected, like he’s waited for thousands of years for this, for you. “Use me.”

You let out a breath, steadying yourself on his body to comply, and grind. His eyes roll back as you do, starting slowly, his back arching off the ground, his chest heaving with pleasure at the loss of control. Careful to control the pace, you let yourself be taken by the pleasure, the joining slick and hot, your core roaring with approval and greed. More, more, more.

Everything is suddenly vibrantly alive, the forest rustling with a wind you don’t feel, crickets singing hymns in the open field, the moon herself licking at your bodies with her soft, precious light. You think you hear chanting in the distance, your brain muddled with his delicious praises and lust that you don’t try to investigate, too focused on feeling his length pulse and move through your folds. Tears prick at your eyes, not from sadness, no, and you couldn’t possibly know their purpose because this feels so good, like his body was made for you.

This climax almost hurts, you felt it approaching and you knew it would be a lot, so you brace yourself, both hands gripping his shoulders like a lifeline. You look into his eyes, and you see… more, than just fundamental attraction, more than pure, unadulterated lust, but you’re so far gone you can’t pinpoint what it is, exactly, before you’re overcome.

Everything in your body is aflame, your core quaking enough to make you think, for just a brief moment, that the earth itself is tearing apart, you cry, you whine, you scream for him, and he’s there, holding onto you for dear life. Telling you that you’re perfect, you’re beautiful, that you’ll never want another man so long as your legs are wrapped around him so tightly like this. You think you believe him, gasping for air, fingernails digging into his skin hard enough to draw blood, though he doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest.

It takes a lot of concentration to bring yourself back into your body, your soul and spirit so besotted with desire, but you manage it, feeling his hands grip your thighs so tightly his fingers may leave bruise marks. You bend forward, letting him take the reins as you try to stay present enough in the moment to kiss and nip at his neck, teeth tugging at his skin, the aftershocks still moving through your nerves like waves on a storming night. Still, though, you want him to feel what you did, to become undone by your hand.

And he does, his thrusts becoming so uneven that you begin to grind, ghosts of your orgasm weaving through your flesh and womb. A crescendo of noise seems to overtake the clearing, the air becoming like static, the hairs on your arms standing on end. Overcome, he curses and snarls in a language you don’t understand, his voice hard and soft at the same time, his hips jerking as something warm and wet pulses out of his member, filling you up and spilling out onto his pelvis.

Avery sits up, still joined within you, shaken, but startlingly and brilliantly alive, chest heaving with the effort of breathing. He presses his mouth against yours in a myriad of kisses, soft, possessive, tender, needy. There is still some amount of desire on his lips, but without the same uncontrollable yearning broiling just beneath his fevered skin like before.

Then he says your name, and a shiver goes down your spine, your very being somehow attentive to whatever he says next, as though your entire universe suddenly floods down and descends on this one, single person. He says it again, rolling it over his tongue like a wine taster, trying out each of the letters as though they offer a different kind of sweetness, his eyes just as wild as they had been when you held him pinned to the grass. A sliver of fear pierces your chest, making you want to push him onto the ground and take him again, but he has other plans.

“I’ll walk you back, dove,” he says, pressing his mouth against your collarbone, though he doesn’t kiss you again, not yet. “The sun will soon be up.”

#exophilia #fae #fae/reader #fey #monster lovers #monster boyfriend #monster/reader

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