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cower-before-power · 3 years

Text

Naked Attraction

Summary: A typical day in your art class turn into anything but when you’re introduced to your nude model for the week- a devastatingly gorgeous man named Levi.

Pairing: Modern AU Levi Ackerman x F!Reader

TW: Nudity, swearing, suggestive content, age gap (reader is 20, Levi is 30), dick jokes, reader is thirsty and lewds Levi hard, perhaps poorly written stuff about art and drawing because I literally know nothing haha

(minors please do not interact, just to be safe)

Link to A03 here

A/N: Hello all! This is my entry for @ghost-party’s Meet Cute Collab with my darling husband Levi. I’ve never written for him before so I was a little nervous haha, I hope I did him justice! Thank you to everyone who reads, likes, comments, and reblogs- you are all wonderful and I appreciate your support! I hope you enjoy, my sweet potatoes!

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“Morning,” Jean greets you with a crooked smile and a steaming cup of coffee. It’s the good stuff from the café by his apartment, your favourite thing to help your brain shift into creative mode. “You’re later than usual.”

You grab the cup from him, sighing as you feel the warmth bleed into your hands. “Overslept. Barely had time to get dressed and brush my teeth.”

Jean’s eyes rove over you as you sink into your chair, humming to yourself as you sip on your drink. “I can see. Do you know you’re wearing two different shoes? And I think your sweater is on inside out. Why do you still even have that ugly thing anyways?”

“Thank you for your comments,” you roll your eyes. “I know I look like a hot mess and I don’t need any words from you, Mr. I Asked The Nude Model Out And Got Shot Down.”

Jean’s ears turn red, and he shoots you a dirty look before busying himself with arranging his pencils. “Shut up.”

You snicker to yourself as you set up your own area. Last week’s model had been a soft, pretty brunette that had instantly made Jean all starry-eyed, like a teenage boy with his first crush. It was generally considered a bit taboo to ask out the nude models, but he’d thrown that aside and gone for the kill after she’d slid back into her clothes. She’d laughed and patted his cheek like he was a naughty child asking for candy before dinner. Then proceeded to walk out and climb onto the back of her boyfriend’s motorcycle (but not before making out with said boyfriend for a good 5 minutes, minimum).

Jean had been left with red cheeks and no date, and you’d been left with great blackmail material.

“I wonder who will be our victim today,” you decide to take mercy on your poor friend and change the subject. “Most likely a guy, since we had a woman last week.”

“We’ll know in about 5 minutes,” Jean looks up at the clock on the wall. “Old Cueball is never late.”

Sure enough, in exactly 5 minutes your very bald and very punctual professor casually strolls through the door. A short man in a green coat is following him, presumably your newest subject. You crane your neck, trying to get a better look at his face, but all you can see is dark hair falling like a curtain over pale skin.

“Good morning class,” Professor Pyxis greets you, tossing his briefcase down on his desk with his usual nonchalant air. “I see you are all ready, so let’s get right to it.” He gestures to the person beside him. “This is Mr. Levi Ackerman. He’s your model for the week.”

The class murmurs in curiosity as the mentioned Levi Ackerman turns to face the room.

You swear your heart actually skips a beat.

Steel gray eyes observe the room from a face that practically begs to be immortalized through art. Every line is hard and strong, covered in clear skin that looks like it would slide under your fingers like the smoothest silk. Your eyes drink in his features greedily, from the regal bridge of his nose to the proud edge of his jaw. You decide your favorite thing though, is his cheeks. They are utterly cherubic, round and full and dusted ever so lightly with the lightest shade of pink.

He’s possibly the prettiest man you have ever seen.

“Hey, I know him,” Jean whispers, cutting off your entranced thoughts. “That’s Mikasa’s distant cousin, the one I told you she found on Ancestry.com last year. I’ve met him once, he’s got a stick so far up his butt, he’d need surgery to remove it. Never would have pegged him for the type to do this sort of thing.”

You vaguely remember a previous conversation involving Jean’s childhood friend and some long lost relatives.

“He doesn’t look that uptight,” you muse, too busy admiring the way his lips glint temptingly under the fluorescents to really process Jean’s words. “He’s beautiful, like something out of a Renaissance painting.”

Jean opens his mouth to reply, but Pyxis begins to speak.

“As usual, draw whichever side of him is facing you, all angles will be graded equally,” your professor plops himself down in his chair, already scrolling through his phone to find the playlist for the day. “Completed drawings to be submitted to me by the end of class on Friday. Please remember be respectful and courteous to our guest. Mr. Ackerman, whenever you’re ready.”

The man nods to your professor, already slipping out of his coat as he steps up onto the platform in the center of the room. You watch, mesmerized, as he proceeds to shed himself of his clothes. It’s rigid and methodical (he folds his clothes like he’s worked his whole life in a department store), but somehow oddly endearing. Every inch of his body that is revealed is consumed eagerly by your shameless stare, and you sincerely hope you don’t start drooling. By the time he carefully removes his final items, you feel like you are vibrating in your seat.

Holy fucking shit, he’s built like a god. Like Michelangelo himself carved him out of a block of the most pristine marble. You trace your gaze down the column of his throat, over the strong shoulders and sinewy arms, the impressive set of abs, the thighs that look like they could crush your head and you’d be nothing but happy about it. It takes a minute before you’re able to make yourself look between his thighs, and when you finally do, you have to looks away immediately. Good grief, even that is stupidly handsome. You can’t help but wonder if it would feel as nice as it looks.

Your face heats from your lewd thoughts, and you grip your pencil so hard it almost snaps. Beside you, Jean snickers.

“You okay over there? It looks like you’re about to explode.”

“Can it,” you hiss, glad that the ambient music Pyxis chose will probably keep your conversation private. “I can’t help it that I’m looking at the most gorgeous dick attached to the most gorgeous man I think I’ve ever seen.”

“You haven’t seen mine.”

“I don’t own a microscope.”

“Ooooh, see if I buy you coffee tomorrow, bitch.”

You stick your tongue out at him before turning back to your easel. As you move, you catch the gaze of Levi, his expression unreadable. Warmth creeps up the back of you neck, and you duck behind your sketchpad in embarrassment. You seriously hope he didn’t hear you, he’d probably report you to Pyxis for being creepy. You decide to lock all your stupid horny thoughts deep within the recesses of your mind, and take a few deep breaths to clear your head.

It works, and as you touch pencil to paper, the desire to create overflows inside of you.

Unsurprisingly, you become utterly engrossed in your work, your pencil sweeping over the pad with almost a mind of it’s own. Levi is the perfect model; you swear he’s not even breathing as he majestically hold his pose without even a quiver. The contours of his body spring to life on the page, and you can’t stop the joyful smile that blooms on your lips as you work. It’s times like these, when everything is so perfect, that you truly realize just how much you love making art.

Before you know it, Pyxis announces class is over, and you’ll resume with Levi tomorrow. The man of the hour begins to re-dress as your fellow classmates pack up their supplies and file out. You absent mindedly wave to Jean, who is practically sprinting out the door so he can make his next class all the way across campus. You’re still engrossed in your drawing, staring at it with critical eyes. It good, one of the best starts you’ve had all year, but now that the high of creating has worn off, you can see where you need to improve.

“You’re very good.”

You gasp and jump, whirling around to find Levi standing behind you, eyes fixed on your sketch. How did he even get there? You hadn’t seen him or heard him.

“Oh, uh, Mr Ackerman!” You squeak, your heart racing like you’ve just run a marathon. “T-that’s very nice, I mean, thank- thank you very much!”

“It’s Levi,” your muse says, seemingly unbothered by your stammering. “Yours is going to be the best one here.”

You blink stupidly at his bold statement. “Did you look at all of them?”

“No,” Levi’s voice is firm, a tone that brokers no argument. “But you had the most joy on your face while you worked. That much passion doesn’t churn out stuff that looks like shit.”

“Oh, that’s only because you are such a great model,” you gush, insides turning warm at his praise. “You stayed so still and you looked so damn regal and you’re just so pretty and-” Your eyes go wide as you realize the absolute words vomit leaving your mouth, mortification slithering up your spine.

“I’m pretty?” Levi raises an eyebrow. “You think I’m pretty?”

“No!” You shout, and the man’s other eyebrow joins the first. “No wait, yes! I mean, fuck, I mean you are probably the most handsome man I’ve ever seen!”

Levi’s eyebrows have now practically become one with his hairline. You wring your hands, wishing the floor would just open up and swallow you. “I-well- come on, people must tell you how good looking you are! I can’t be the first.”

“No, but you certainly are the most enthusiastic about it,” Levi deadpans.

Oh, someone just put you out of your misery now.

“I’m sorry,” you offer, cringing internally at your complete ineptitude to hold a conversation with an attractive man. “I....get carried away sometimes.”

“It’s fine,” Levi’s stoic expression softens just a little. “It’s kind of nice to hear, actually. Usually I’m told I’m good looking, but ‘far too short’.”

“That’s bullshit.” you say vehemently, honestly shocked people would deny this man his godhood over something as trivial as height. “Who cares if you’re shorter? It doesn’t detract from you. What’s that phrase again? Good things come in small packages? Well, not that you’re small, I’m not saying that, I just meant-”

“Yes, you did seem to find my package....good,” Levi interrupts, and you swear you see the corners of his lips twitch upwards.

Your eyes widen in horror as your brain replays your hushed conversation with Jean. “You heard that?!”

“I’m told I have exceptionally good hearing.”

“Oh fuck me,” you groan, burying your face in your hands. “I am literally so, so, sorry. That was completely out of line. I have no excuse other than it’s clearly been too long since I’ve gotten some, but that’s no reason to make you uncomfortable. Please, if there’s anything I can do to to make it up to you, I’ll do it!”

“Have tea with me.””

Your head shoots up, surprise coloring your features. “What?”

“Tch, you heard me,” Levi tuts, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out his phone. “I haven’t got free time till Saturday-stupid Shitty Glasses wanting to trade shifts-but if you want to go out, give me your number and we can work out the details.”

You stare at him with your mouth open, unsure if this is really happening or you’re vividly daydreaming again.

“Umm, are you sure?” You ask, wondering if you should pinch yourself to see if you are indeed imagining things. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m wearing two different shoes and my sweater is inside out. Believe me when I say these sorts of fashion statements happen more often than not. Plus, I practically salivated over you like some sort of horny middle aged suburban housewife who hasn’t been laid in years.” You pause to take a breath, once again unable to stop the words from spewing forth like a fountain. “And I’m so awkward! I mean, are you comfortable in this conversation? And I can’t stop talking once I’ve gotten going, and I say the weirdest shit, and, and-”

“I like you,” he says simply, as if he’s just declared something as obvious as 1+1=2. “I couldn’t give a flying fuck about all the stuff you just said, you’re just... you, and I like it. So, do you want to go on a date or not?”

“O-oh,” you suddenly feel shy, your tummy filling with butterflies at the look of sincerity on his handsome face. You’d never met anyone quite like Levi Ackerman before, and you weren’t about to pass up the opportunity to get to know the man behind the drool-worthy muscles. “Uh, yes, please, I would like that. Very much.”

An almost relieved expression crosses Levi’s face, and he hands you his phone to type in your number. You notice the time as you do so, and sigh sadly as you hand him his device back.

“Well I better go,” you say reluctantly, suddenly fervently wishing it was Saturday already. “I’ve got another class in 15 minutes.”

“I’ll walk you there,” Levi says briskly, slipping his phone back into his coat. “To make sure you get there safely. Someone might murder you on account of their eyes being assaulted by that garish sweater. ” The corners of his lips twitch upwards once again, and you grow warm all over, from both his gentle teasing and the knowledge he isn’t quite ready to say goodbye yet either.

“Excuse me, I thought you said you didn’t give a ‘flying fuck’ about my attire,” you huff, but you’re grinning as you quickly pack up your bag.

“I don’t care it’s inside out, but you have to know that is the ugliest fucking color know to man,” Levi says, holding out his hand. Your brain malfunctions slightly for a moment, until you realize he’s offering to carry your bag for you. The butterflies inside you whip themselves into a frenzy as you pass him your stuff, your hand just grazing over his. Handsome, funny, honest, and sweet? How is this guy even real?

“I’ll have you know, this sweater is an absolute delight. When it’s inside right,” you stick up your nose, but unable to stop he laugh that slips past your lips.

Levi rolls his eyes in an almost playful manner. “Doubtful .”

You’re not sure where it comes from, but a sudden rush of confidence fills you. “If you’re so offended by it, maybe you should just rip it off of me.”

The tips of Levi’s ears turn a delightful shade of pink. You’re sure your own skin is hot enough to cook an egg on.

“Wear it Saturday then,” Levi’s ears may be flushed, but his eyes flash with something that makes your spine tingle. The insinuation of his words has your gut clenching and your mind whispering fervent prayers to please please please make Saturday get here faster, I don’t ask for much, please!

“Only if you wear your modeling outfit,” you manage to say, trying your best to sound coy when you feel like you might combust into a pile of lust and giddiness. “I’ve never seen someone wear it so well, and I want a closer look.”

If possible, Levi’s eyes grow even darker, and you just know Saturday is going to be one of the best damn days of your entire life.

“Deal.”

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Taglist: @clovertitan @millenialfanfictionaddiction @stigandr-the-cat @axoxtxhxh @bowandcurtsey @chaotic-nick @manjiroarchiviste

#meet cute collab #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman fic #levi ackerman imagine #levi x reader #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyojin x reader

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hologramband · 4 years

Text

One Day p1

Alive!Luke x Fem!Reader Modern AU Word Count: 2.6k A/n: hehehe here’s the first part! I have it mostly planned out, there should be 3-4 parts! Lmk what you think! Summary: A shy girl is used to floating under the radar, keeping to herself most of the time, all was well until an opportunity fell into her lap, but what will these new people bring with them?

You were really good at staying right under everyone's radar at Los Feliz. You knew everyone, everyone knew you, but you didn’t have anything more than just a surface relationship with your classmates. You didn’t mind that, it was harder to get hurt this way. You got accepted to the Performing Arts High School with your ability to dance, but have always found your real talent lies within your visual art. Whether you were using paints, pencils, or a pen, you loved the way that your hand flew over the paper and created an image that represented your many different emotions.

In a way it made sense how you loved both dance and drawing, both sharing the flowing of movements to express things that words cannot. It was easier for you to express your emotions and thoughts in these mediums since social connection was hard for you. You had tried it once, really connecting with a person, but it ended up coming back and hurting you, causing you to shut down, so you weren't in a rush to try again any time soon. You floated down the hallways with ease, only having to stop at your locker to grab the remaining textbooks you need for the next few classes. While you were stopped you heard your name called from across the hallway, looking up to see Julie raising her hand in a small wave. “Hey, (y/n)! I like your top!” She came to a stop by your locker smiling. “Thanks! It was my moms, she just found this box of old clothes from when she was in school, this one just really stuck out to me.” You smiled down at yourself and looked back up at the girl to see three boys approaching. You felt heat subtly rise to your cheeks and you tried to focus your eyes on Julie. “Hey Jules, you ready to go to class?” Luke spoke as soon as they reached her side, sending you a nod of acknowledgement when he noticed you standing in front of them. Alex and Reggie both raised their hands with small waves in greeting to you. You smiled in return and turned back to close your locker, swinging your backpack on in the process. “Well, I gotta get to class too, see ya around.” You smiled back at the group and heard Julie call after you. “See you in Art!” You turned slightly and waved in return. Julie and you were pretty decent friends, you talked to her more than anyone else at the school, she had a good balance of how to get to know you without pushing you. You had met the boys a few times in passing, much like the previous occurrence, them not really speaking much more than a ‘hello’ here and there. There was something about Luke though, he never failed to send a storm of butterflies loose in your stomach. He probably didn’t even remember your name, but you could remember all the details of his face, not in a weird way, just in an artistic way, ya know? He had such a coolness about him, like he could totally embarrass himself but brush it off like it was nothing, like he meant to do it even. You thought you were getting better with your anxiety around people, but as soon as that boy was in front of you, it seemed as if your brain forgot how to function. You shook the boy from your thoughts as you continued through your day, classes went by like they typically do, all your general classes like math and english were in the first half of the day, the second half being taken by your dance class and then art. It was simple to say that you much preferred the second half of classes. In dance you went about as normal, running through a few routines and while wrapping up your teacher mentioned something about a new project that would be announced tomorrow. After changing you made your way to your final class where Julie had already arrived and claimed a table for the two of you. “Hi!” she smiled up at you. “Hi! How were your classes today?” You replied, starting a conversation that you hoped would carry throughout the class. You really did like talking with Julie, she was so sweet and really made you feel like she wanted to get to know you. The first day of class she noticed you were sitting alone and she took this as an opportunity to introduce herself, commenting on the particular band tee you had on, being able to strike up a conversation instantly. You admired her for this, the confidence she had when walking in a room was just astounding to you. The two of you went about the class in a way that you similarly would, talking about this and that while sketching away in your respective books, her only pausing to write ideas in her song notebook when an idea would hit. The class you were in didn’t have many actual assignments, just that you needed around 3 small pieces turned in periodically and one larger one for your final at the end of the semester, it made it an easy free flowing environment where there wasn’t too much pressure to stress on any one thing. Before you knew it the ding of the bell was going off overhead and you and Julie started packing up your things, she quickened her pace when she saw the boys waiting at the door for her. “You guys have practice today?” You giggled at her rushed movements. “Yeah,” she laughed as she zipped her bag closed, “Luke and I just finished up a new song too so I’m really excited to get back to the garage to figure out the music behind it.” She smiled up at you and you returned the affection. “Well don’t let me hold you up! Hope it all goes well! See you tomorrow!” You waved to the girl as she ran to the door, only pausing to throw a wave back at you. You laughed and shook your head at the girls' antics and went about your day as usual, starting your walk back home, you didn’t live too far and enjoyed the fresh air and time to recollect after the school day. After getting home you grabbed a quick snack and retreated to your room to finish a sketch that you had been working on in class today. Digging through your bag your heart rate increased when you pulled the red covered book to see the top covered in multiple stickers, this wasn’t your book, it was Julies song book, meaning she was currently in possession of your sketchbook. She must have grabbed yours on mistake when she was packing up quickly. You lightly sighed as you pulled out your phone to text her about the accidental switch-up. She replied instantly just realizing the mistake herself, then invited you over to switch them back and possibly hear some of the songs they were working on, looking for an outsider's opinion. You hesitated in saying yes, did you really need your book back that bad? Sighing, you sent back an okay and asked for an address, as nervous as you were to hang around the guys, more specifically Luke, you remembered how excited Julie was to go over the new song, the one that was probably sitting in the book you were holding in your hands. You threw on a light jacket and grabbed your backpack, for reasons unexplainable to you it just always just felt safer to walk around with a backpack on, and you were on your way to Julies. You could feel your nerves rising with each step you took towards her house, by the time you stood at the end of her driveway you felt like your heart was in your throat. “Calm down, (y/n), it’s just a little hangout to get your book back and hear a few songs, no biggie, nothing to fret about at all.” you whispered to yourself, taking one last deep breath before continuing your walk up her driveway. You had just come into view from the garage when you heard Julie calling out your name. “(Y/n)! How was your walk?” Julie ran out to meet you, now walking beside you into the garage. “It was good! You actually live closer to me than I thought, it was only like a 15 minute walk,” you smiled at her and you continued the small talk until you looked up and met eyes with the brunette guitarist. “(Y/n), these are the guys, Alex, Reggie and Luke,” she introduced them to you and you raised your hand in a wave. “Yeah, i’ve seen you guys perform before, you’re all really good!” you smiled and met each of their gazes. “Thanks! And that was all our old stuff, just wait until you hear what we have coming, um..” Luke stuttered realizing he didn’t know your name. You went to say it but Alex beat you to it. “(Y/n) you idiot,” he hit the back of Luke's head, while rolling his eyes. A blush rose to Luke’s face and he laughed it off. “I-I knew that, I-I just-” “You’re at the school for dance right?” Alex spoke again, interrupting and trying to take the attention off of the stuttering Luke. You smiled and nodded. “Yeah! I’m on a dance scholarship, so that's my main focus but my second is visual art, which reminds me,” You take your backpack off and pull out Julies song book, “here’s this!” She smiles and takes it from you. “Ugh thanks so much, I don’t know what I would have done if I lost this, Reggie can you grab her sketchbook? It’s on the piano!” Julie opened her book and smiled looking at the page. “Oh wow,” you heard Reggie mutter causing everyone to turn to him, “(y/n) this stuff is like, really good.” You blushed and looked down at your feet, you’ve never been good at accepting compliments. “Dude, boundaries!” Julie muttered reaching for the book, but Luke got to it first, taking his own turn looking through the pages. Your heart jumped when he started smiling at the pages he was flipping through, you didn’t have anything in there that you kept hidden, it was just that no one had ever gone through your work before. “You have so many different styles, this one is like a cartoon, but then the next one is like hyper realistic.” Luke looks up to make eye contact and you felt a blush rise to your cheeks. Alex took the second of him being distracted to pull the book away from him and hand it back to you. “I’m sorry for them, they still haven’t figured out what it means to respect someone's privacy.” He narrowed his eyes at his two bandmates. “You know,” you opened the book in your hands to search for a particular page, “I actually have something of each of you individually. I sketched them out the night after I saw one of your guys’ gigs.” You scrunch your face in concentration, you feel everyone rush to stand behind you when you finally find it. You look around at them to take in their reactions, their eyes were all glued to the papers you were displaying in front of you, Reggies mouth falling open. “Oh! Is this why you asked for the pictures my dad took of that night?” Julie looked up at you. “Yeah, I wanted to be able to add the details of everyone's chosen instruments and get some added information on where the highlights were from the lights,” you looked at each of their faces again and made a rash decision to gently tear the pages from your book, handing them to each respective person. Each person held them gently in their hands, then looked up to you in amazement. You just shrugged your shoulders in response, not knowing what else to say. “Well,” you looked out the window and saw the setting sun, “I better start my walk back to my house, it’s getting dark and I wanna get back before that happens. Enjoy the pictures guys!” You smile and turn to walk away, all the band still shocked to silence. “She’s never torn a page from her book before,” you hear Julie tell the boys as you walk further down the driveway, smiling to yourself. It was true, you never pull pages from your sketchbook, not this one at least, it was the better quality of all the other ones you had. You typically just used the less expensive books for class, you go through all the pages so quickly you didn’t want to waste the one’s in your higher quality notebook for the rough sketches, but the pages that you drew the band on were in the higher quality notebook, you had taken the time to really get them right, and they turned out fantastic. Your mother had always told you to spread joy where you can, and after seeing all their faces you knew that it was only right to let them have the pages that they were looking at. You arrived home and couldn’t wipe the smile off your face, there might be something there with them, an opportunity to make new friends, to open up. This idea makes you both nervous and excited, you let these thoughts and ideas later lull you to sleep. --- The next day at school you were walking to your locker when Julie caught your eye, she was waiting in her phone by your locker door. You would usually see her in passing in the mornings, but this is new. “Hey Julie, what’s up?” You greet the curly haired girl at your locker. “Hey (y/n)! Not much really, just watched to catch you this morning and run an idea past you…” She smiles and looks around her before returning her gaze back to you. “Okay? Is everything alright? You seem nervous,” you giggled at her antics and went back to putting the combination into your locker. “Yeah, yeah, I just know you take a while to open up and get close with new people, and I don’t wanna rush you into anything you aren’t ready for, but the boys and I were wondering if-” She gets cut off by a yell from down the hallway. “JULIE! HAVE YOU ASKED HER YET?” You turn to see all three boys running towards you, Julie facepalming at Reggies yell. “Geez Reg, she literally just got here. There's no need to yell,” Julie rolls her eyes at them and looks back to you. “Anyways, we were wondering if you wanted to make more designs and stuff for the band, like for posters and maybe album art one day.” She smiles at you after finishing. “You-you want me to… really?” Your eyes widen in shock. “Yeah! We all really like what you did with those portraits, and you’re pretty chill letting us keep them and all, we want you to be a part of our band, even if it isn’t you on stage with us, you’ll keep things looking cool.” Luke says as he leans against the lockers beside you. “Plus, then you’ll be able to hang out with us more!” Reggie pipes in. They all look at each other then back at you. “So,” Alex smiles at you, “What do ya think?” A million thoughts fly through your mind at once, they really want you to hang out with them more? They liked what you did? You looked at them all, looking back at you, and smiled. “I’d love to.”

tag list ✨

@gia-kerks @fangirlangioma

#jatp #jatp imagine #jatp luke #jatp luke x reader #luke patterson #luke x reader #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson imagine #jatp luke patterson #jatp luke patterson imagine #jatp luke imagine #one day #luke patterson x fem!reader #mini series

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lesbianlotties · 3 years

Link

Sam Fraser Has a Good Day

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Fear Street Trilogy (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Samantha "Sam" Fraser/Deena Johnson Characters: Samantha "Sam" Fraser (Fear Street), Deena Johnson Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Not Canon Compliant, Everyone Is Alive, Nightmares, Breakfast, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Napping, Dancing, Late Night Conversations, Making Out, Kissing, Fluff without Plot, Domestic Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Fluff, literally what the title says Words: 2401

In the span of a couple of days, Sam Fraser was: in a car crash, chased by several undead killers, used as bait, almost overdosed, drowned, possessed, tied up in the trunk of a car, hit in the head several times... and somehow she survived.

She deserves a good day. She deserves to: stay in her girlfriend's house and steal her sweaters, sleep until noon, have a good breakfast, eat jello in peace, get clean bandages, play video games, eat ice cream, take a nap, dance to her favorite songs, go on a late-night drive for cheeseburgers, and cuddle and kiss her girlfriend the entire day.

Sam wakes up startled, as usual. She is gasping for air and sitting up hastily. Was she having a nightmare? Is she stepping into a nightmare now? Because she can tell she’s wearing one of Deena’s t-shirts. But what if her mom sees her? Is she going to catch her? Should she start running from something, or keep herself from running toward something?

“Sam?”

That soft voice is the one that breaks the spell.

“Deena,” Sam sighs.

“Hey, it’s okay, you’re okay,” Deena whispers, tentatively wrapping her arms around her girlfriend. Instantly, she feels Sam relax in her embrace.

“Sorry,” Sam mumbles, tucking her face on the crook of Deena’s neck. “Just a nightmare.”

“I got you,” Deena says softly. She places a kiss on Sam’s forehead and carefully guides them to lay down again. “It’s early. Why don’t you go back to sleep?” Deena asks, realizing right after that Sam fell asleep before answering at all.

A couple of hours later, Sam wakes up again. This time there are no nightmares, no screams of terror caught in her throat, no reaching out blindly for air or a weapon. She wakes up slowly, clutching the heavy blanket that covers her body, yawning without restrain, and eventually opening her eyes slowly. The first thing she does is look for her girlfriend, and she finds her sitting at the foot of the bed, sketching on a notebook with an endearing frown of concentration on her face.

“Good morning,” Sam says through a new yawn.

“Well,” Deena smirks fondly at her, “it is closer to noon now, but good morning to you too, baby.”

“What? Noon?” Sam frowns and attempts to rub the sleep off her eyes. “Since when do I sleep longer than you?” Sam asks, and puts on a pout on her lips for her next question, “And why are you so far away?”

Deena chuckles affectionately at her and puts away her pencil and notebook. She crawls back to her girlfriend and playfully flops down beside her. “Hey,” Deena greets her with her signature raspy tone. She receives a dreamy “hi” and a soft peck on the lips in response. Afterward, she explains, “To answer your question, I just thought you deserved a day to sleep in.” When Sam gives her a look of pleased surprise, Deena adds, “In fact, I think you’ve earned a full day, just for you, to rest and enjoy.”

“Deena, you don’t have to do that,” Sam attempts to protest, right before her girlfriend interrupts her with a kiss that turns into two, and three, and four, and soon enough they simply lose count.

Deena’s plans encounter an obstacle as soon as they manage to leave the comfort of her room to go make breakfast. Sam was fresh out of the shower, wearing one of Deena’s t-shirts this time. Deena barely gets to open the fridge before Sam tries to intervene with a soft-spoken, “Let me.” It’s safe to say that Deena puts up quite a fight, though.

“I just wanted to take care of you for one day, okay?” She insists. “You fucking deserve it.”

“That’s sweet,” Sam replies, feeling absolutely endeared. She leans in and places a kiss on Deena’s forehead, and Deena tries and fails to keep up her frown. “Listen, I appreciate it, and I love you for it, okay?” Sam says, giving Deena’s lips a small kiss. “But consider this. One, you already took care of me at my worst. Two, a perfect day, for me, means that you get to enjoy it too, and I get to take care of you too, got it? And three… do you really want to burn my breakfast on my special day?”

Sam attempted to quickly kiss Deena’s cheek and run away, but the brunette was quick enough to reach out and take her in her arms, ticking her in revenge for the not-unfounded critique of her culinary skills.

After their meal, the two girls make their way to the living room’s couch, where they are free to cuddle and exchange lazy kisses for as long as they could possibly want. Eventually, though, Deena finds the strength to pull away long enough to have an actual conversation.

“So, while you were sleeping, Kate and Simon stopped by,” Deena says. “Everyone feels kind of bad about you, you know, getting possessed and shit.” Deena pauses with a grimace, not proud of her choice of words, but Sam quickly kisses her cheek to urge her to go on. Deena begrudgingly stands up from the couch, to look for a certain bag, and explains, “Josh, oh so generously, gave us the gift of privacy and he is staying the fuck away from home for the day. He’s sleeping at Simon’s house. Also, he says you can play his video games, if you want. And… Kate and Simon brought all this.”

Deena drops a bag from the Grab N’ Bag on the couch and Sam eagerly looks through its contents. She gasps, “Finally!” And pulls out one of many packets of jello.

Deena’s love-sick laugh spills right out of her lips. “You’re adorable,” Deena says before kissing the top of Sam’s head and climbing back to the couch beside her. “There’s also popcorn, chips, ice cream is in the fridge, a couple of your favorite movies that I think were yours in the first place and they’re just returning, and a happy birthday card because they don’t exactly make cards for the shit we’ve lived,” Deena explains, content to watch her girlfriend smile and nod happily while enjoying her jello. Then she clears her throat and not so contentedly adds, “We also have a bunch of uh, fresh bandages and stuff.”

The two girls exchange a look and understand exactly what this means.

“This is not what I had in mind when I planned to give you a perfect day,” Deena says. She is sitting on the bathroom counter without a shirt on while Sam gives the final touches to the fresh bandage on Deena’s stomach. At the beginning, her hands were shaking with guilt, and fear, but she quickly got them under control and lovingly worked on the healing wound that a different version of herself caused.

“I told you,” Sam insists without looking away from her work. “I also want to take care of you, you know?” She is standing there without her shirt on, with an equally fresh bandage on her back.

When Sam iss done, Deena gently grabs her hands and moves them up to her lips to kiss them sweetly. “Thank you,” she whispers.

Sam turns breathless at the gesture. She feels butterflies in her stomach and decides to tell Deena how much she’s enjoying her day. Speechless as she is though, Sam only thinks to lean forward and connect their lips, determined to kiss her girlfriend until they lose track of time.

Some time later, Sam finds herself comfortably seated on her girlfriend’s lap, wearing her sweater again, and biting her lip in great concentration as she tries to succeed at one of Josh’s video games.

“You nerd, I can’t believe you’re into this,” Deena chuckles fondly behind her.

“Hush, I almost got it,” Sam mumbled.

As much as Deena wants Sam to win whatever game that is, she thinks it would be a crime to hold herself back in a position as convenient as this one. So she moves Sam’s blonde hair out of the way and starts placing feather-light kisses on her neck. At first, Sam tries to ignore her. Then, she squirms just a little. After a very effective bite from Deena, a small whimper escapes from Sam’s lips.

“Tell me,” Deena starts saying with a seductive whisper. “Do the other cheerleaders know you’re secretly a dork?”

That finally gets Sam to stop the game and turn around with a gasp. “Deena!” she protests, although she’s laughing. And she crashes her lips together. She would hate to let Deena win so easily, but she feels much more like a winner in this situation.

Sometime in the afternoon, Sam wakes up on the couch with her head on Deena’s chest. She’s so perfectly comfortable and warm and safe, that she starts to feel suspicious. She didn’t even have a bad dream at all. She starts to fearfully consider this might be nothing but a dream about to turn into a nightmare, but then she moves her head up to look at her girlfriend and her worries vanish all at once. Deena is still asleep, she’s frowning a little and her lips are slightly parted as she adorably mumbles in her sleep. The feeling of love and adoration in Sam’s chest is so strong and so real that she doesn’t have any doubt this has to be her reality.

After all the pain, the fear, and the danger of it all, this is real, and they earned it. It’s not even just about those days of extreme violence when they ended the curse, it’s even bigger than that. It’s a moment of well-earned peace and happiness that’s been more than three hundred years in the making. They have been fighting for this moment their entire lives, and they were so close to losing hope forever, but they made it. Deena was right, they fucking deserve it.

So, Sam makes a couple of decisions. First, she decides it’s best if they go one day without watching a horror movie. As much as she loves them, they have had enough horror for a while. And two, she decides that continuing her nap is the perfect way to honor Deena’s wish of giving her a perfect day. She gets comfortable again on top of her girlfriend and drifts back to sleep.

Not too long later, Sam and Deena are in the middle of a tube of ice cream and halfway through watching Grease. Well, Deena is watching the movie. Sam is a little more focused on the extremely amusing sight of Deena trying to avoid smiling at the movie.

“Oh my God, you love it,” Sam keeps giggling whenever Deena slips up and grins at the movie on the television screen.

“No, I fucking don’t,” Deena rolls her eyes, makes no move to quit the movie, and adds through gritted teeth, “I just acknowledge that it’s a classic.”

Her words only make Sam smile even brighter as she continues to take spoonfuls of ice cream and marvel at the sight of her girlfriend.

A perfect day, of course, wouldn’t be complete without listening to the mixtape Deena made for Sam, and dancing in the middle of her bedroom without a care in the world.

Sam is the one that starts dancing, swinging her arms around, not very gracefully. And Deena shakes her head at her with extreme fondness. “You are a weirdo, Sam Fraser,” she says, making her girlfriend laugh, completely unaffected by the comment.

“Dance with me,” Sam replies with a carefree grin on her face. She steps forward and pulls on Deena’s arms until she convinces her to dance with her.

As usual, Deena tries to put up a fight that she loses as soon as she stares into precious blue eyes. There’s not a thing she wouldn’t do for Sam. They already had to do the most extreme things for each other. How could she refuse her girlfriend a dance?

It’s a perfect evening to a perfect day. The two of them dance to their favorite songs, laugh wholeheartedly, kiss without holding back, jump and spin and fall in each other's arms again and again, as if falling in love all over with every new song.

As comfortable as it would be to stay home for the last few hours of the day, the perfect dinner to complete the day means getting cheeseburgers. Not even Deena complains about the idea. After all, she always loved driving around town with Sam in the passenger seat, humming along to the songs on her mixtape, her blonde hair glowing under the streetlights they passed, completely comfortable silence between them, without a destination in mind.

They park the car at a familiar spot. They eat their cheeseburgers, playfully feed fries to each other, and have a perfectly good time. Conversation flows easily between them, reminiscing of old memories or sharing dreams of a bright future that starts to feel more possible than ever before.

When Sam starts yawning, Deena is quick to point out, “You’re sleepy.”

“Am not,” Sam scoffs in that very particular way that tells Deena her girlfriend is blatantly lying.

“Don’t fall asleep on me, Fraser. How rude,” Deena teases her.

Sam giggles happily in response. She can’t deny she’s looking forward to returning home to Deena’s bed, but she genuinely loves to put up a fight against her girlfriend, no matter how often she ends up losing.

“I’m very awake,” Sam insists, a knowing look on her face because she can easily predict Deena’s answer.

“Prove it,” Deena says.

Even before she’s done saying the words, Sam is leaning in to kiss her. They kiss, again and again, until Sam whispers against Deena’s lips, “Take me home.”

It’s well past midnight when Sam and Deena finally agree that even perfect days must come to an end. They lie in Deena’s bed, facing each other, legs tangled together, often exchanging kisses or sweet words that only exist in that vulnerable space between them.

“Thank you,” Sam whispers. She pushes a stray brown curl behind Deena’s ear, then her hand rests for a moment there on Deena’s cheek, her thumb lovingly caressing her skin.

“I told you,” Deena replies in an equally hushed tone even though they have the entire house for themselves. “You deserve it,” she adds, then she turns her head just enough to place a small kiss to the inside of Sam’s wrist, making the blonde smile timidly.

“I’m not talking about today,” Sam says. She considers explaining that she means she’s saying thank you for absolutely every moment they spent together since they met, but…

“I know,” Deena says. Her smile widens and she adds, “Just so you know, I also enjoyed today, a lot. So thank you too.”

Sam replies with a sweet kiss to Deena’s lips. Then the two of them cuddle closer and slowly, peacefully, happily drift off to a good and restful night of sleep.

#fluff without plot!!! i said fluf!! without! plot!#fear street #sameena #sam x deena #deena x sam #sam fraser #deena johnson #fs #fear street fanfiction #fear street trilogy #fear street movies #my fic

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professorsnape394 · 4 years

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The Potions Master’s Apprentice

Chapter Four: The Three Broomsticks

A/N: This is the fourth part to my fanficiton ‘The Potions Master’s Apprentice (Severus Snape x OC)’. Chapters 1-16 can be found already uploaded on Wattpad under the same name. Feel free to leave requests in my inbox for anything Snape related you want me to write. Leave a comment below if you wish to be added to my tag list.

Pairing: Severus Snape x OC (Dumbledore’s Granddaughter)

Summary: A talented young witch is employed as an apprentice professor at Hogwarts, but who will she be working under? Severus Snape is not best pleased with his new responsibility of taking on an apprentice, however she is relentless to create a friendship between them. Will she be successful? Or might the friendship just go a little two far? With the eyes of her grandfather constantly watching over them, an attempt at a relationship might not be in the cards for Aria Dumbledore and Severus Snape.

Word Count: 1733

Warnings: n/a

Credits to Gif Creator

The following days transpired just as the day before had done; a lot of potion brewing and a little conversation. However, more notably Severus Snape was actually participating in the conversation for once. Aria could not yet say she had seen a pleasant side to the man, however he was acceptable to converse with at the very least. By the end of the third day he no longer pretended to busy himself with textbooks and he actually elected to help with the potion brewing for once. Being able to talk to the Professor and ask him any questions helped her a great deal in learning the correct procedures. She felt herself being more at ease around him, and soon enough they had developed their own way of working together, that she found quite enjoyable. Even Severus had become accustomed to the woman's presence in his classroom as she pranced around the cauldrons, laughing every now and then at his sarcastic comments he hadn't entirely meant to be humorous.

Aria had been lost in thought as she stirred the final potion to completion. "I was thinking." She said cautiously. "It's pretty hard finding things to occupy myself at nights, there isn't much to do here, except aimlessly wandering the halls. How do you feel about maybe taking a trip to Hogsmeade this weekend, have some dinner, maybe drinks? It would make a change from the elves cooking, although I admit they'd be pretty hard to beat."

"I appreciate the offer Miss Dumbledore. However you know how I feel about spending time with Mr. Hagrid, I doubt a change of setting would convince me, especially with the addition of alcohol." Severus spoke, his tone softer than it usually would at such a request.

"Hagrid wouldn't be there." She hastened to add. "He mentioned he has business out with the castle grounds. I just figured since the two of us would be here anyway, it wouldn't make any sense for us to sit alone."

"You may have forgotten, Miss Dumbledore, but I like being alone. I eat alone every night, and I do not wish to simply be your back up plan, now Hagrid has left you to do the same."

"I don't mean for you to be a back up plan Sev- Professor Snape. I just think it might do us both some good. After all haven't we been getting along better these past few days." Aria wanted to get to know the man more, she felt they had got off on the wrong foot and the way to fix this was spending more time together, and hopefully they would even become friends at the end of it all.

"You haven't been as disagreeable as I expected you would be, I will admit. This does not change my previous opinion." He stated.

"At least consider it." She pleaded.

With a sigh Snape flipped another page. "I'll consider it." He agreed, continuing reading his book, no longer interested in conversing with the young witch.

The next few days dragged in more than ever. Aria enjoyed keeping herself busy and was not used to having this much free time. The only thing keeping her sane was her passions for drawing and nature. She chose to combine the two and spend her days outside, sketching the beautiful landscape she found herself in. She preferred to opt for portraits, capturing the essence of humanity in her sketches, but trees were fine too. She shrugged.

Sunday morning eventually came around and Aria chose to tackle something she had been putting off ever since her arrival at Hogwarts. A small pile of letters had accumulated on her bedside table, ignoring each one as they came in. She immediately recognised the scrawled writing on the envelope and could not face opening them. Every second day she received a letter and it broke her heart knowing what lay within. Reading each one carefully, she knew she could not face writing the response the sender desperately awaited. Instead she scribbled a small, generic reply, making sure to include that she would be too busy to write often due to her crazy schedule. This of course was a lie as she had virtually nothing planned for the next couple of weeks until term begun. Aria did not want to face even reading any more letters as long as she remained at Hogwarts, and so she swore to herself she wouldn't no matter how hard she knew it would be.

A firm knock echoed through her quarters just as Aria sent her letter off with beautiful brunette barn owl. "Come in." She called curious as too who would be calling on her. Shocked to see Professor Snape striding into her private chambers, Aria couldn't help but question his presence there.

"I've had time to think about your offer." He stated blankly, visibly out of his comfort zone.

"And?" Aria pressed.

"And I suppose there would be no harm in joining you for one meal. After all, as you say, we both will be here alone, we may as well keep each other company."

"Fantastic!" His colleague gleamed, jumping up from her position on her couch. "Just give me some time to get ready and I'll meet you there? Say six oclock at the Three Broomsticks?"

"Six is fine with me. Don't be late." He warned, leaving the room just as quickly as he came.

Aria entered the Three Broomsticks at five forty-five, ensuring Snape had no reason to reprimand her once again for her tardiness. It stunned her to find the sallow skinned man already sitting at a booth, firewhiskey in hand, patiently waiting on her arrival. She couldn't help but smile to herself as she watched him tap out a rhythm on the side of his glass as he took yet another sip. She wondered if it was out of impatience or nervousness, either way she thought it slightly endearing to see.

Hearing the click of a familiar set of heels quickly approaching him, Severus Snape looked up from his glass, almost needing to hold back the urge to smile, but managed to keep his composure. He rose to his feet, holding out a hand to greet the fellow Professor, instantly cursing himself for such a foolish action. "Sit." He commanded, motioning to the seat across from his own. "I'll get you a drink."

"Oh no, there's really no need Professor." Aria insisted, shaking her head, causing her beach-like waves to brush over her exposed shoulders. "I'm afraid alcohol doesn't agree with me at the best of times." She admitted.

"Correct me if I am wrong, Miss Dumbledore, but as I recall it was you who suggested a meal and drinks. Or did I mishear you." Snape asked, feeling almost foolish, having already down two glasses of Firewhiskey.

"I did say that didn't I." The young Miss Dumbledore blushed. "I apologise, sometimes I just cannot stop myself when I speak, I often forget the consequences of drinking, which as it happens is the ultimate consequence of drinking." She chuckled.

The older man shot her a small look of disdain, not at all as amused as she had expected him to be. He let out a small grunt of dissatisfaction, and proceed to down the dregs of his drink.

It took a few more awkward moments of silence and Severus being slightly more irritable that Aria had wished for before the two finally settled in to a rhythm of conversation. Soon enough it came time to eat and Aria took it upon herself to call over the waitress. As he ordered Aria watched as Severus made no effort to look up at the woman serving him. It crossed her mind that maybe this was a deliberate attempt at ignoring her voluptuous breast and curvature of her hips. However, on the other hand she considered that maybe he truly was not interested as she thought back to their conversation a few days before.

"She's stunning." Aria couldn't help but observe. "You should go for it, chat her up, she might be into the dark, brooding, intellectual type."

"As I told you before, Miss Dumbledore, dating it not top priority for me. If you find her so attractive why don't you, as you say, 'chat her up'." Snape replied sarcastically, not expecting the woman to take him seriously.

"I might just." She said, finding her eyes following the waitress back to the kitchen for a moment or two. He couldn't help but feel a little jealous as the witch watched the woman walk away from their table, though he was not sure why.

"So tell me Professor Snape." The young Professor began. "What are the other Professor's at Hogwarts like? Who am I took look out for? Who's my competition." She grinned, wriggling her eyebrows menacingly.

"I'm not sure I know what you mean." He hummed in response.

"You know." She shrugged. "Who are you close with? Will I have to fight them for custody of you." She laughed, although the Professors expression did not change. "What I'm trying to say Severus is, I'm new here, besides yourself and Hagrid I know no one. I'd like to consider us friends, though you may have a different opinion. I was simply trying to express my nervousness at being the new girl. I was hoping you'd be able to help me settle in, introduce me to your other friends and colleagues that is." She sighed.

"You do not seem to understand my disposition, Miss Dumbledore, that which I feel I have made abundantly clear. I am not one to socialise. I am not one to make friends. I am here to teach and teach alone. I do what your grandfather asks of me and that is the extent of my relationship with the staff. They understand how I am, and respect that. I do not bother them and in return they do not bother me. You have been the first to struggle with this concept, Professor." He struggled to grant her the title.

"I didn't realise." Aria stuttered slightly, not understanding how she had not caught on. "I had simply thought you had a vendetta against me, due to my position here at Hogwarts. I didn't realise you shut yourself off from everyone. I apologise for any inconvenience I have caused you." The tone of her voice softening, becoming almost a whisper-like volume. She was embarrassed she had forced him out of his habits and brought him to the Three Broomsticks to clear the air. She realised now it had been a pointless act. This man had been stuck in his ways for over a decade and she would not change that a fortnight into knowing him.

"I am here, aren't I." Severus stated, trying not sound as harsh as he previously had. "Had I truly despised you I would not be wasting my time here with you. I have come to the realisation that if we are to work in such a close proximity to each other, it would be best if we maintained at least some level of civility with one another."

"I appreciate the sentiment, Professor." She replied shyly, remaining silent. Immediately Severus regretted opening his mouth. He didn't entirely hate her company and in fact he had found himself starting to enjoy the evening. It took him a minute or two to gain the confidence to speak the words aloud, but he figured the pay off was worth the sacrifice of a small amount of pride.

"Will you stop fretting woman." He demanded. "I was just beginning to find your constant rambling tolerable. If I wished to spend the evening in silence, I wouldn't have made the effort to accept your invitation to come here tonight. You have managed to entice me thus far, do not spoil what may be your one chance at a friendship with me."

"A friendship?" This piqued her interest.

"You know what I mean. A working relationship. A tolerance. A chance for me to accept your position as my apprentice." Snape corrected himself, fumbling over his words.

"Mmmm." She smirked, taking a small sip of butterbeer. "I'll just pretend a friendship is off the cards for us then, Professor. Although I don't recall you mentioning trips to Hogsmeade as an exception to your reclusive personality." She raised an eyebrow suggestively.

Despite his annoyance at her persuasive abilities, and daring comments, he was glad he had convinced her back to her previously inquisitive self.

Both choosing to ignore any reservations they might have about their 'non-friendship' the two spoke for hours with ease. With each empty glass of fire whiskey Severus Snape found himself relaxing more into the conversation, his reputation becoming a distant memory. It was the first he had allowed himself to truly relax in possibly the whole of his life.

It seemed in one evening Severus had gotten to know all there was to know about Aria's life, although strangely she mentioned nothing regarding her family and Snape chose not to pursue the subject. He loved listening to her talk, she was a rambler, rarely needing any interjection from him except the odd mumble here and there and that's the way he liked it. He was a listener, he loved taking in new information no matter the subject. Most importantly it meant he did not have to share anything about himself, unless the woman specifically asked, and even in those rare occasions, she knew better than to pressure him when he chose not to provide an answer.

Aria told him of the schooling she received in Ilvermorny, her school in America. She told him of her job working in a local alchemists after she left school. She confided in him of her dream to become a professor, or an auror even, really she was just desperate to make a difference in someone's life and her dream would not succeed by spending the rest of her days working in a dingy old shop. "And that's why your grandfather brought you here?" He questioned, the topic piquing his interest. "You told him of your dream to teach?" "I guess you could say that." She agreed, not wanting to raise any more questions than necessary. "He didn't bring me from America though, if that's what your meaning. I was already here. My mother sent me to school in America to protect me, with all that Wizarding War carry on and what with me being a Dumbledore, she didn't want to put me in any more danger than I already was. She remained here with my father however and I visited on the holidays." Snape raised a single brow at the mention of her mother and father but changed the subject completely, seeing the woman being to shy away slightly.

"It's getting late." Severus observed. "I should walk you back to the castle before it gets too dark."

"That would be nice" Aria smiled, rising from her seat.

The couple made their way back to the beautiful lit up castle as the sky turned a deep shade of blue above them. They continued to speak all the way down to the dungeons, this time Severus participating just as much as Aria. The Potions Master escorted his apprentice to the door of her quarters, the two of them swaying awkwardly not knowing where to go from here.

"You can come in for a drink... if you'd like." Aria hesitated to ask. "Although I'm not sure I have anything alcoholic, so tea might need to suffice."

"I appreciate the invitation, but it's been a long day for me, I'm afraid I must retire for the night." Now they were back in the familiar castle grounds Severus felt as though he had suddenly returned to his body, and the events of the night lingered at the forefront of his mind, a deep feeling of regret developing in his stomach.

"Very well." Aria agreed, feeling slightly uncomfortable herself. "Good night, Professor Snape."

"Good night, Miss Dumbledore." He spoke softly, rocking anxiously the balls of his feet, waiting for the woman to disappear into her quarters. With a simple nod and one final smile from Aria, she vanished from his sight. The sound of the door closing echoed through the halls, ringing in Severus' ears, and suddenly he felt more alone than he ever had before.

Aria stood with her back to the door, a sigh of relief escaping her lips. As much as she enjoyed the evening with her mentor, the intense awkwardness that occurred at her door, got her thinking about the man on the other side. Her intention was to get to know the man better, and though he did not confide in her much, she felt she had achieved that, maybe more than anyone ever had.

Why had he allowed her to get close to him when he claimed to distance himself from the world?

This thought circled her brain for the rest of the night.

Taglist:

@ayamenimthiriel

#severus snape #severus snape imagine #severus x oc #severus snape one shot #Harry Potter #harry potter and the goblet of fire #harry potter fanfiction #severus snape fanfiction #severus x reader #severus x y/n #alan rickman #potions master #potions masters apprentice #dumbledore #dumbledores granddaughter #severus snape x reader #severus snape fluff #severus snape smut

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heathers-wig · 3 years

Text

come & find me - heathney hanahaki au part one

synopsis:

“Who’re the flowers for?” Eva interjects.

The question dances around in Heather’s head and leaks out of the others’ imploring glances, but Heather finds herself faltering as she struggles to answer.

“I don’t…” Heather frowns, thinking of the flowers welling up in her lungs that she’s sure will snuff out her life. Her frown melts into a scowl when she thinks of whoever her enamored was, and how they doubled as her soon-to-be inevitable murderer, along with how she didn’t even get the privilege to know their identity. “I don’t know.”

❁

Or: Heather contracts the Hanahaki Disease. Other than the fact that she’s quite literally slowly but surely dying due to flowers rooted to her lungs, she has a problem; she doesn’t know who exactly her unrequited love is for, or how to prevent the disease from worsening. Can she figure out who her “beloved” is and snuff out the floral illness before it claims her for once and for all?

pairings: heathney (heather x courtney), BG gweoff (gwen x geoff), BG izva (izzy x eva)

word count: 15,226

warnings: suicidal thoughts implications + descriptions of coughing/vomiting

A/N: there are two endings, happy and sad! feel free to choose which you deem as the true ending :) thank you for reading!

READ IT ON AO3 HERE!

i. daffodils & gardenias; unrequited and secret love

It starts with a petal. Well, if Heather were to be honest, it had started far beyond the first initial petal, but all the pieces fell into place when the very first petal fluttered from her lips.

Her science teacher was going on and on about the instructions for their next lab — something about carefully dissecting a pufferfish that had long since died, but Heather paid no mind to it.

Instead, she observes.

One of her favorite things to do was observe those around her. It was like dissecting them, similar to how her science teacher was now demonstrating on one of the pufferfish, and their internal thoughts and behaviors. Who they unconsciously drifted to, who they repelled and fought with — or, to be more precise, where the weak links in her class were located. With this frequent and diligent studying, she knew exactly how to break certain students and their allegedly tight-knit friend groups.

Take Bridgette, Geoff, and Alejandro, for instance; all Heather had done was slightly insinuate to the gullible, blonde girl that Alejandro liked her, and she was putty in her hands. Of course, Heather noticed Bridgette stare and stare at Alejandro nearly around the clock, but Geoff, Bridgette's actual boyfriend, hadn’t. She did him a favor, really — all it took was her to mastermind him walking in on Bridgette and Alejandro during a Halloween party, and Heather was satisfied.

Currently, Geoff and Bridgette were sitting awkwardly and stiffly next to one another — a huge mistake on their parts, in Heather’s opinion, to choose to sit next to one another after only beginning to date during the summer, but Heather had never had the patience for high school romances. Bridgette had tried to slide apology notes to Geoff’s direction, but for once, his eyes were glued to the board and the notes went unnoticed.

Heather noticed them, though, and she had to stifle a laugh.

The rest of the class is more or less the same. Some were pointedly looking away from the experiment their teacher was performing, and some were sketching in their notebooks, like Gwen.

There had to be three people genuinely paying attention — Geoff, for obvious reasons, Beth, because she currently had a B in the course and thought it was the end of her small-minded world, and Courtney, because she was, well, Courtney.

It’s when Heather’s eyes stay on Courtney’s head of hair that didn’t have a single strand out of place that it happens.

A scratch in the back of her throat digs into her, but Heather swallows it down instead of clearing her throat. If she did it too loudly over something so mediocre and unimportant, her classmates would just assume she was trying to stir something seeing as how it was the end of the last period of the day and, while Heather loved the occasional entertainment at the spite of her peers, she wasn’t in the mood that day.

And so, Heather waits and makes stray sketches in her notebook — repeatedly writing her name in cursive, drawing hideous illustrations of her peers, anything to pass the time until the bell rings. When the bell finally sounded off, punctuating the end of the day, students unceremoniously gathered their lump of notebooks and textbooks and scoop them in their arms, leaving the classroom in a cluttered, chatty, and hurried mess.

The first one out the door is Geoff, followed by Bridgette on his heels, Heather notes, but she can’t bring herself to follow and eavesdrop and what would possibly be one of the most interesting breakups Wawanakwa High had seen since Courtney and Duncan’s infamous split. She’d probably overhear the details of the split from somebody else, anyway.

The devil seemed to have spawned at the initial thought, as a prickly voice accompanied with a light tap on Heather’s shoulder made with the eraser end of a pencil is what tears Heather’s eyes away from the door. She has half the mind to berate whoever it was for pestering her at the end of the day, but falters when her eyes meet the other’s.

Courtney’s narrowed dark brown eyes are unamused. When Heather rises from her seat, Courtney tilts her head up to meet her gaze — Heather was taller than Courtney, even with the pair of wedges the brunette had on that day.

“I expect you were paying attention,” Courtney’s tone is sickeningly sweet and mocking, the specific one she uses around people she thinks are below her in terms of intelligence, or just in general. She has seen Courtney use it around the young kids she tutors, Duncan, jocks, Heather herself, and practically any student in their school who has managed to sour her mood, which was mostly everyone. “We are partnered for the lab, after all —”

“We are?” Heather questions dryly. She had expected Courtney to pick up on her sarcasm — Courtney had made it her job to scribble Lab with Courtney on every available space in her planner on the days leading up to the experiment, after all — but judging by the brunette’s eyes narrowing further, she either hadn’t noticed or didn’t care.

“Yes,” She hisses through clenched teeth, before frowning. “Whatever, I actually paid attention —”

“And I thank you for your service,” Heather remarks just as dryly as before, sauntering out the door.

“Wha — hey, where are you going?”

Heather snorted softly. “Come and find me,” she chastised sardonically. She had figured the answer to be obvious, but Courtney never failed to surprise her in one way or another.

Courtney scoffs and follows her, falling into place next to Heather. She fixed the headband on her head that matched her clothes as she rolled her eyes so far back Heather couldn’t help but wonder if they saw the back of her head.

“Haha, very funny,” The brunette doesn’t laugh, which makes Heather crack a smile in satisfaction. Winning with Courtney was always exhilarating and thrilling. “See you tomorrow, Heather,”

Heather hummed, waving a lazy and half-hearted hand over her shoulder, already bolting in the direction of the student parking lot. “See you,”

When Heather is finally in the solitude of her sleek, black car — her parents wasted no expense when it came to spoiling her, despite neither being the affectionate or loving type — the thing building up in the back of her throat is finally released into the palm of her hand, and all Heather can do is stare at it.

She’s coughed up bile and phlegm before, and she’s heard of blood being coughed up as well, but the tiny, dainty and crumpled thing laying in her hands was unheard of and felt unreal as it rested in her palms. She was suddenly aware of how dry her hands were as she felt the thinness of the soaked object, given that it had been resting in her throat.

Rifling it in her hands, Heather scoffs when she realizes just how ridiculous it was to believe she had just coughed up a flower in the school parking lot. However, she blinks harshly and firmly, and when she opens her eyes, the yellow petal is still there.

A foreign feeling of confusion and uneasiness settles over her like a blanket, but she instead scoffs once more and crumpled the petal, wrapping a tissue around it to keep it from dirtying her leather seats, and rolls out of the parking lot, avoiding any acknowledgment of the flower petal she’s convinced she imagined coughing up.

(On the ride home, she coughs up two more additional petals, too — one white and curved to perfection, looking much too angelic and innocent for having just been lodged up in her throat just moments prior, and the other the same shade of yellow as the first. Heather ignores both, and tosses them out the window to sink further in denial, similar to how she felt her stomach sink as she watched the petals flutter aimlessly to the ground, destined to be run over or stepped on.)

❀

That night, after finishing both her math homework and leftovers for dinner, Heather switched off the lights and settled into her bed before impulsively flicking open her laptop. It was for school purposes, her parents insisted, and was to never be used at night when she should be asleep, but quite frankly, Heather hadn’t cared much for her parents’ opinion of her considering their clear distaste for her.

Her fingers mindlessly fly across the keyboard, the same feeling of dread from when she was stunned upon the initial discovery of the petals resurfacing.

why am i coughing up weird shit

Healthline - Signs of Lung Illness

If any of the following symptoms apply to you, be sure to contact your health agent and schedule an appointment to discuss your symptoms and possible diagnosis. If you experience a burning, aching, or squeezing sensation in your chest, illnesses such as Lung Cancer, Pleuritis, etc. may be at play.

why am i coughing up petals and how do i stop it

Derrit - r/AskDerrit, in an old manga I read today, the Hanahaki disease was a plotline. Is it real? I can’t find any research indicating an answer.

BlaineleysBitch: no. the entire premise of the disease doesn’t even make sense. it’s not real.

Mr.CocoNutty: tbfh i haven’t heard anything about it? i’m sure if it were real there would be some coverage abt it considering how unbelievable it sounds

KittyKat16: yea, i don’t think it’s real, but it would be really cool if it was!!

what’s the hanahaki disease

Wikiresource - List of fictional diseases

Hanahaki Disease (花吐き病 (Japanese); 하나하키병 (Korean); 花吐病 (Chinese)) is a fictional disease where the victim of unrequited or one-sided love begins to vomit or cough up the petals and flowers of a flowering plant growing in their lungs, which will eventually grow large enough to render breathing impossible if left untreated. The flowers in particular symbolize the specific love and relationship the patient has for the enamored, as told through flower language. Hanahaki can be cured through the confession of the victim's feelings. The response of the enamored is unimportant. The victim may also develop Hanahaki Disease if they believe the love to be one-sided but once the enamored returns the feelings, they will be cured.

how to get rid of hanahaki disease without having to confess shit

Making sure to groan inaudibly — her parents were under the impression she was asleep, after all — Heather pressed her finger down on the backspace key with a familiar scowl on her face, her finger remaining in place atop the key long after the words had been removed. The feeling of resentment and annoyance was familiar, but the overwhelming confusion and petals she felt building up in her throat were not.

Sighing, Heather rubbed her eyes gently yet urgently. Mindlessly, she resorted back to her idle habit: observing.

Assuming she had the disease that was supposed to be fictional, somebody had swooped Heather off of her heeled feet without her even realizing it. That had to be impossible, as Heather wasn’t dense enough to not realize something as obvious as feelings for another. After all, she read people and their infatuation with others as easily as one read magazines — who was to say she couldn’t do the same for herself?

Recalling the wiki page, Heather sighed as she began to re-type. The article had said that the flowers she had coughed up symbolized her love for whoever her crush was in flower language, and seeing as how it was her only lead on whoever her supposed enamored was, Heather wanted to crack down who it was exactly and quickly exterminate any and all contact with them to execute any possible feelings.

how do you identify a flower

PlantCapture - What Flower Is This? How to Instantly Identify Flowers

If you already have a photo of a flower saved on your phone, you can also instantly identify it by uploading the photo to PlantCapture. Once you've instantly identified a flower, PlantCapture stores it in your library. You can easily go back to see how many flowers you've identified.

Heather whipped out her phone with another sigh as she begrudgingly began downloading the app. Watching the small icon load, she scowled even deeper. Even the smallest inconvenience in the entire situation was enough to dampen her mood even further, despite the fact her own alleged feelings brought this on herself.

Remembering she had tossed out her only petals, Heather just barely resisted another groan before a familiar scratchiness formed at the back of her throat. Being sure to cough quietly, Heather slipped the petal out of her mouth as she winced at the taste of copper rolling down her tongue. The article hadn’t mentioned anything about blood, Heather bitterly notes, before shaking her head at her own stupidity. Of course there wasn’t a full list of symptoms for a disease that was believed to be fictional.

Switching flash on, Heather got the results of her flowers instantaneously as promised: the yellow and white flowers she had been hacking up all day were daffodils and gardenias, respectively.

Heather’s fingers flew to her keyboard once more automatically. With bated breath, she hoped that the results would be specific enough that she could put an end to the investigation that night and stomp out whatever ties she had with her “enamored”.

But, as noted from Heather’s luck that day, things rarely went her way.

what do daffodils mean

FlowerDictionary - Flower Meanings: Flowers A-K

Daffodil symbolizes regard and chivalry. It is indicative of rebirth, new beginnings and eternal life. It also symbolizes unrequited love.

what do gardenias mean

Flower Dictionary - Flower Meanings: Flowers A-K

The gardenia is a flower that symbolizes purity and gentleness. However, this symbolism often depends on the color of the gardenia. ... Another symbol of the gardenia is secret love between two people and also joy.

Upon quickly searching them up, the results did little to ease the dread pooling in her. The test was definitely correct, as it seemed, but was entirely unhelpful when it came to figuring out the identity of whoever it was that Heather had unknowingly developed an unreturned love for.

Slamming her laptop closed — a bit too loud for her liking, but beats pass and she doesn’t hear the annoying patter of her mother’s footsteps reach her room, so she assumes she’s in the clear — Heather grunts one final time, unceremoniously moving her laptop back on her desk. Raising the petal to her line of vision, Heather has to squint to make out some of the details. This one was white, identifiable even in the dark. It was a bit crumpled from having been clutched so tightly, and still wet from her own coppery blood.

A gardenia, Heather recalls with another scowl that was deeper and more ferocious than the last were. Meant to symbolize a “secret love”... so much for a clue.

She wonders, her last coherent thought before succumbing to sleep, how big of a secret her love must be for it to have left Heather herself in the dark on who her loved one was.

At the thought, Heather wrapped her blankets tighter around herself, lulling herself to an uneasy sleep of blood, thorns, beautiful but deadly flowers, and a figure in the distance who looks so comforting and familiar whose name is on the tip of Heather’s tongue, but can’t be reached.

❀

ii. amaryllises & white chrysanthemums; pride & loyalty

Despite Heather’s praying to a God she didn’t believe in, the flowers didn’t disappear overnight. Instead, they bloomed rapidly in her lungs, and at times when she felt the familiar tickle in the back of her throat, flowers in full-bloom were coughed up.

They would be beautiful, if not for her own blood staining them, a grim reminder of what would become of her if she did not find a fix, and soon.

Still, Heather was nothing if not quick on her feet. She managed to keep her illness under the wraps — of course, her second in command was Lindsay, so it wasn’t difficult to conceal her bloody bundles of flowers as just “feeling under the weather”; any other person would be suspicious of the foreign scratchiness and hoarseness her voice now had, the way she would breathe shakily as if her lungs were rattling and about to give out, or the way she barely restrained the flowers from being coughed up after a gym class, but since it’s Lindsay, Heather can get away with her lie.

When Lindsay sweetly wishes for her to feel better, even dropping off a bowl of badly homemade chicken noodle soup, Heather couldn’t help but scoff as she shook her head at the feeling of guilt lingering in the back of her head, and the feeling of bloody flowers in the back of her throat.

❀

With every fistful of the flowers beginning to stain her clothes, Heather took responsibility for her own laundry, for the first time in her life. Her parents put on a spectacle of overexaggerated joy and relief when she announced it, saying that, oh, thank goodness their darling was beginning to take responsibility instead of pooching off of them; Heather had just forcefully smiled and nodded, as she always did now, and excused herself to hurriedly put in the first load.

Her clothes were stained red in her own blood. Some petals began to stick onto her clothes, as well, and the last thing Heather wanted was the intrusion of her parents and their nosiness as she deciphered just who she was coughing flowers for.

Interestingly, the flowers she was now coughing up were different. Amaryllises and chrysanthemums, as she had identified — the red flower was the former of the two and symbolized pride. The white chrysanthemums, wide with many intricate petals, symbolized loyalty and the truth. Thankfully, they were more of a clue than the daffodils and gardenias with their meanings of unrequited and secret love.

That still didn’t mean that Heather had any clue of who they were for, though — she just knew that they had to be high-maintenance, and part of her refused to believe she would unconsciously fall for someone who had to be so pretentious, but seeing as how the thought sent her into another bout of coughing sloppily disguised, it had to have been the truth.

Heather was beginning to hate the sensation that arose when she felt a coughing spur coming on. She hated how she could feel a crumpled lump form in the back of her throat, squirming its way up her throat and nearly out her mouth. It feels hot, sticky, and suffocating, and when the flowers come up, Heather hates them too, and especially whoever her beloved is. However, the disease doesn’t cease even just a little, and so Heather finds herself heaving, coughing, and puking chrysanthemums and amaryllises in the middle of the night as she ponders on who it is she’s supposed to be loving.

Still, she manages to keep herself from hacking during class in front of her peers, and that’s all that matters to her, even when the flowers she chokes on splinter into her like thorns in her side.

❀

It’s here that Heather messes up. Well, to be fair, she messed up as soon as she began feeling things for whoever it was that had captured her sight unknowingly, in Heather’s opinion, but that was irrefutable and couldn’t be helped.

This, however, could have been helped.

Like many things, it started at school. Like the first petal that had been coughed up weeks ago, it started during science class, when she felt the feeling of hot bile, blood, and petals rising in her throat as Courtney bent over their lab report. She didn’t notice Heather’s discomfort, as her eyes were fixed on the report, her brows scrunched together in concentration.

At least, that’s what Heather thought, until Courtney suddenly looked up from the report and eyed her curiously. “Are you feeling alright?”

Heather barely contained her surprise at the sudden inquiry. The only person to ask that was Lindsay, not even her own parents, let alone her (unofficial) rival and (official) lab partner.

Upon seeing her confusion — had she done that bad at a job of hiding it? — Courtney sighed and looked back to their work. “To be honest, you’re quieter than normal and you look kind of sick — you look like you’re going to pass out at any time now.”

“Thanks,” Heather mutters coarsely, finding her voice. Despite her calm exterior, she could feel her heart racing, and the flowers itching their way up her throat.

Courtney squawked indignantly. “Hey! I’m just being honest!”

“Mhmm,” Heather hums absentmindedly as she rises from her seat. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

She barely hears Courtney’s grumpy and hesitant “Fine,” before stalking out the room, grabbing a hall pass on her way out. As soon as the door swung shut behind her, out of sight from her peers, Heather dashed as quickly as she could to the solitude of the nearest bathroom. She slams the stall door closest to her open noisily, thankful there was nobody around, and heaves into the toilet as the blood and flowers bloom from her mouth.

They hurt more than the daffodils and gardenias, now that they’re coming out as full flowers accompanied with a few stray petals rather than just petals, but Heather shoves the thought to the side in favor of pulling her hair away from her face. The toilet bowl is filled with a hideous mixture of blood and petals, and Heather feels like a decaying corpse as the energy leaves her, crumbling to the ground as she heaved from the aftermath of the coughing fit.

Picking petals from her backmost molars, Heather spits once more, the remaining drops of blood falling into the sink. Her chin is wet and sticky with her own blood, and she’s sure her teeth are stained red as well; Heather half-heartedly debates asking her parents to pick her up as she flushes the toilet, whisking away most of the evidence excluding the blood dribbling down her chin from her mouth and a few stray petals, before deciding she’d rather vomit flowers rooted to her lungs for the rest of the day than be with her family.

As she rinsed water from the sink in her mouth, Heather nearly spits it out in surprise when she notices a bathroom stall crack open from the mirror. Then she actually spits the stained water from her mouth, whirling around to threaten whoever it was to secrecy. When her eyes meet a head of blue hair, she falters slightly, and that’s all it takes for the other to take control.

“You too?” Is all Gwen asks, having recovered from her initial surprise. She doesn’t look grossed out by the blood, and instead joins Heather by the sinks.

Narrowing her eyes, Heather recoils to what she knows best around Gwen: defense. “Excuse me?”

Gwen laughs, sardonically and self-deprecatingly, with a hint of amusement. It’s the most Heather’s seen her laugh to her since, well, ever. Then, still in astonishment, Heather felt herself stagger back and her eyes widened when pale pink roses, white carnations, and yellow coreopsis flowers fell from Gwen’s blue-lipsticked lips, gracefully fluttering to the tiled floor.

Suddenly, Heather understands, but Gwen still unnecessarily elaborates. “The flowers. You too?”

Heather only hesitates for a split second before sighing and staring down at the sink bowl. “Yeah,”

“Didn’t expect it from you of all people,” Gwen chuckled humorlessly. “Didn’t think the Queen Bee Heather knew what emotion was, let alone be stuck in unrequited love,” she mocked bitterly. She turns to Heather, gaze softening. “So, who is it?”

Heather blinked. “What do you mean?”

Gwen snorted and gestured to the petals and trail of blood on the tiled floor. “The flowers, honors student,”

Ignoring the sarcastic remark, Heather paused before admitting, “I don’t know,”

Gwen grunted disbelievingly. “Come on, I know you don’t like or trust me, but really, who am I going to tell?”

“Hey, I’m actually being honest here!” Heather snapped, glaring at the goth. Of course, I’m told I’m lying when I’m actually being honest… she thinks with a scoff as her scowl returns.

“Whatever, have you tried…” Gwen trails off, frowning as her brows scrunch together. “I don’t know, I just knew who mine was for—”

“Who?” Heather asks curiously, having not picked up on Gwen displaying any of the usual symptoms of a horrid teenage crush. No staring, attention-seeking, stuttering, or blushing — it was the same behavior for everyone with Gwen.

The goth hesitates only for a split moment before sighing and giving one name: “Geoff,”

Heather hums, unsure what to say. Gwen narrows her eyes, seeming to just remember who she was talking to.

“Seeing as how we’re one and the same right now, if I catch you telling anyone, I will spread the news of your diagnosis, okay?”

“Don’t worry, Weird Goth Girl, your secret is safe with me,” Heather promises, the corners of her lips twitching up at the use of the old nickname. “Just help me clean up all this before someone walks in,”

Gwen nods once, before bending over the sink and coughing a few more flowers and petals in the sink, blood spilling from her mouth. Awkwardly, Heather pats her back, unsure what to do, before realizing she should probably hold her hair back.

“Thanks,” Gwen murmurs, her voice even more hoarse and tired than normal. Heather just gives her a nod before crouching down to pick up the flowers trailing the ground; Gwen hurries to grab a mop from the back closet to clean the blood.

It’s when Heather comes across the petals of the pale pink roses, white carnations, and yellow coreopsis flowers that a pang of empathy spurs in her. She turns to Gwen.

“Those type of roses specifically mean joy, the white carnations mean purity and loveliness, and the yellow coreopsis means cheerfulness.”

Gwen looks up from her work and blinks, taken aback, before smiling slowly and softly. “That fits him,”

Wordlessly, the two set off to finish the cleanup of their shared death sentence in the form of flowers and blood, when the bathroom door flies open once more. Both Heather and Gwen look up, eyes wide in surprise. Before either can communicate, a thunderous voice and a ticked-off Eva enter the area.

“Get back to class, we have to clean up —” she gets cut off from her own demand, faltering at the sight of Heather and Gwen bent over the floor, cleaning blood, flowers, and bloody flowers. Her eyes flit back to the duo who are too frozen and flabbergasted to speak. “What happened?”

Heather opens her mouth to bullshit her way into an explanation as she always did when Eva’s eyes suddenly narrow dangerously, intercepting the unsaid lie. She spits out one last order before turning on her heel, leaving the bathroom.

“Meet me in the library after school. Come alone, and hurry up and get back to class so no one else walks in on you.”

After her departure, all Heather and Gwen could do was stare at one another, wide-eyed and depleted of the fluttery itchiness of their lungs and throats, for once, before resolving to hurriedly finish garnering the crumpled flowers and washing the blood down the sink.

Heather goes back to class for the remaining minutes of the day, her mind elsewhere even as Courtney berates her for the long bathroom break. Her mind drifts to Gwen’s sardonic laugh, the goth's utter defeat after finishing hacking, and the way her eyes are avoiding Geoff’s direction, instead fixated on a pink charm bracelet Heather had noticed her fiddling with on multiple occasions before.

The image of Gwen choking on her own blood and petals momentarily and the sound of her warbled snort had been seared in Heather’s memory, and all she could do was wonder. Wonder if, in due time, her own condition would mirror Gwen’s when she inevitably lost to the disease that was slowly but surely suffocating her.

❀

When Eva had instructed her and Gwen to meet with her alone, Heather had assumed that that applied to Eva as well.

What she had not expected, however, was for her and Gwen to be seated with Eva and two of the most arbitrary (personality-wise, that was) redheads Heather ever had the pleasure (?) of meeting.

She scowled. With herself, Gwen, Eva, Izzy, and Harold, they had practically formed their own little Losers Club. Brilliant.

Harold awkwardly coughed, having declared himself the unofficial leader.

Gwen scoffed, leaning back into her seat. She leaned her chair, balancing it on two legs at a dangerous angle. “What is this, Hanahaki Club?” Gwen mockingly questioned, mirroring Heather’s thoughts.

Harold guiltily smiles. “Well, no. See, Eva here —” Eva glared at the boy, scowling. Harold faltered for the fifth time that meeting, gulping — “had Hanahaki awhile ago. Last year, I think. She confessed to Izzy, and the rest is history.”

Izzy nodded enthusiastically. She grabbed Eva’s hand, making the latter blush furiously at the unprompted gesture. “Yup! Our getting together was actually like this one Romanian film —”

“Anyway,” Harold interrupted. “I noticed Eva’s symptoms and helped her, which we intend to do with you two. Now,” he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, casting a pensive look to Heather and Gwen, who exchanged glances. “Which one of you has Hanahaki?”

Before Heather can think to lie and save her own skin, Gwen answers truthfully. “Both of us,”

“Gwen!” Heather hissed. The mentioned shrugs.

“What, you think you’ll be able to resist coughing up flowers during this?” At Gwen’s words, Heather felt her face twist as she felt an itching in her throat. Satisfied, Gwen nods and turns to the others. “Thought so.”

“I’m going to be honest,” Eva begins. Her tone is softer than before, but just as commanding. “Hanahaki… it’s hell. But just ease your suffering by confessing. I didn’t want to risk my life when a few words could save it.”

At Eva’s words, Heather can’t help but feel a surge of jealousy at her words, her sureness. At how she and Gwen just knew who their flowers were for, and how Eva had the mind and courage to confess.

If she did know who the amaryllises and chrysanthemums that were rooted in her lungs were for, would Heather confess? She wasn’t sure, and she hated the uncertainty.

“Yeah, but, he just broke up with his girlfriend,” Gwen murmured, tracing a finger on the table as she spoke in a low voice. She seemed fascinated with the intricate design of the wood, now, refusing to meet the eyes of her peers that were softened with sympathy. “And… he just sees me as a friend. ‘One of the guys', you know?”

A beat passes before Harold frowns, a hand on his chin like some wannabe Sherlock, Heather notes, face expectedly contorted in pensiveness. “Is it Geoff?”

“Bingo,” Gwen says dryly.

Izzy turns to Heather, the hyperactivity from before dulled as she looks serious for what had to be one of the few times in her life. “And you?”

“What about me?” Heather sighs, though she knows that they know she knows what’s being insinuated.

“Who’re the flowers for?” Eva interjects.

The question dances around in Heather’s head and leaks out of the others’ imploring glances, but Heather finds herself faltering as she struggles to answer.

“You don’t know?” Eva echoes. Her face is not contorted in anger, like Heather assumed it would, but rather thoughtfulness. Neither is her voice thunderous or disbelieving — Eva seemed to seriously be contemplating the likelihood of it. She turns to Harold. “Is that even possible?”

The redhead looks just as lost in thought as Eva. He shrugs. “Maybe…” He shifts his attention back to Heather, who is beginning to feel as if she were being prodded at, dissected, and inspected by her peers. “Have you tried thinking about it?”

“Excuse me?” Heather asks, taken aback. Her scowl diminished momentarily in her surprise, before it fell back into place, more intense than before. “What do you think I’ve been doing? Analyzing the flowers and flower language like I’ve gone insane —”

“I mean,” Harold interrupts, “have you tried… I dunno, fantasizing about the people in your life? Like, placing yourself in your ideal date with them to see if the flowers spur in your throat? It worked in this one manga —”

Heather droned out the rest of his rant, frowning to herself. Why hadn’t she thought of that?

“Anyway,” Eva cut Harold off with a silencing glare. The boy in question audibly gulps, shifting in his seat and indiscreetly glancing away to the opposite direction. “What do your flowers mean?” She looked to Gwen and Heather.

“The first round were marigolds,” Gwen admits carefully. “They mean jealousy. The second had mistletoe and yellow tulips — they mean affection and longing, and the tulips meant good friendship, or something like that. Now, I have pale pink roses, which mean joy, white carnations, which mean purity and loveliness, and yellow coreopsis flowers, which mean cheerfulness.”

“My first flowers were daffodils and gardenias.” Heather found no reason to lie now. “They mean unrequited and secret love. Way to spell it out,” she chuckled dryly, and humorlessly, and pretending to not notice the varying amounts of sympathy from the group. Her throat stings. “The ones I have now — amaryllises and chrysanthemums — mean pride and loyalty.”

Eva raises her eyebrows. “High-maintenance? Wouldn’t have expected that from you,”

Heather grunted. “Shut up,” Her throat hurt too much for a better rebuttal.

“You know, it’s probably Courtney,” Izzy hums half-jokingly with a grin. Gwen barely stifles a laugh.

Feeling her face flush and a lump form in her throat, Heather opens her mouth to argue, but is silenced when Harold shoots her a look.

“So, to recap,” Harold draws their attention back in, “The flowers represent who you love and/or your dynamic with them. Heather, try finding some privacy and think of your ideal date with people you know who are prideful and loyal, okay? We’ll meet up here on Monday. Hopefully you’ll have figured it out by then.”

“Fine,” Heather agrees, clumsily gathering her things. Her throat is burning, along with her chest and she’s sure her eyes are stinging, and she desperately wants to cough, but not now, and certainly not here with this audience. “See you Monday, Hanahaki Club,” she mutters sarcastically.

Half-hearted laughs register in Heather’s ears, but she’s already out of the library and dashing to the second nearest bathroom, not wanting to be walked in on. Her focus had been shifted from her illness momentarily, but now that it had been remembered, it was all it took for her to cough up the familiar flowers to the bathroom floor, unleashing a familiar strangled and warbled choking noise, accompanied by foreign tears.

❀

At night, when Heather’s parents and siblings are fast asleep, Heather lies wide awake in bed, tossing and turning. Whoever her beloved was was causing her to be unable to sleep at night, and when she was awake, she would cough on petals and blood, and she just craved to sleep.

Part of her wondered if it was possible for her to choke on the flowers in her sleep, before concluding that it didn’t matter. She was going to die, anyway.

Her mind wanders back to the secret meeting in the library, and of Harold’s advice. She had never wanted to date any of her classmates, but seeing as how she had the disease, it was a waste of time groveling in defeat. Instead, she shuts her eyes, and thinks of her fantasy.

Intimacy is what comes to mind first. She doesn’t like intimacy with her family or friends, but maybe she’s a sucker for looking into someone’s eyes and holding hands and telling someone I love you and meaning it. It doesn’t make her a sap; it just means that her needs are impossible to fulfill.

Eyes still shut, the image of her perfect date materializes in Heather’s head. Limbs entangled around one another as she and her mysterious person cuddled on a couch while watching an arbitrary film. Sharing a cup of hot chocolate and blankets as the chilling air from outdoors was kept out from inside by the heater. Talking animatedly about their interests and such over the movie, gazing into one another’s eyes; no judgment was to be found in either. It was peaceful and isolated, and perfect to Heather. Her parents never showed affection, and couples in high school never lasted — that type of love wasn’t real, but Heather allowed herself to fantasize, still, for the sake of finding who her enamored was.

Thinking it was best to start with the girls Heather was acquainted with that fit the bill, Heather sighs before imagining the ambiguous person as her classmates.

Leshawna. She’s the most faithful person Heather knows of, and she’s certainly proud. The flowers remain still and unmoving in her lungs, and so, she decides to move on.

Gwen. Unsurprisingly, the flowers don’t itch. The goth was more of someone Heather could respect, anyway.

Eva. Still, no reaction. Part of her is grateful, as she didn’t want to face the wrath of Izzy ever.

Dakota. One of the least likely, but it was possible, Heather supposed. They had some things in common, after all.

Court—

Her dark brown eyes were the only thing that had materialized in her mind when the flowers came out roughly and swiftly. Her blood is hot and thick in her throat as she tries in a daze to not suffocate on it, but still, she chokes on it. She can feel tears springing in her eyes and the sweat piling on her back and under her armpits; she can feel her chest burning in indescribable pain that was unlike any of the other coughing fits. It’s worse than anything she’s ever endured which is, granted, not quite the resume, but nevertheless, Heather feels as if her body is tearing and ripping itself apart while simultaneously hastily stitching itself back together by the amount of pain unleashed from her floral disease.

She scrambles to the sink of the bathroom attached to her bedroom, retching into the basin. The blood and flowers look like an artful arrangement, though Heather barely registers its appearance through both the pain and the unwavering amount of hatred coursing through her at the thought of Courtney unknowingly inflicting this upon her. Somewhere, she’s sleeping peacefully, while Heather is choking on her own blood and the flowers rooted to her lungs from just the mere thought of Courtney’s eyes.

Finally, mercifully, after a few minutes, the coughing fit ceases, but all that’s left is Heather’s heavy heaves as she attempts to retain her breath. Her vision flickers as black dances across her vision, and all she can smell is an overwhelming smell of metal and cleaning supplies. Her sink looks like the delicately painted masterpiece of an artistic sacrificial seance scene with all the blood and flowers. With a sigh, Heather strips of her bloodstained clothes, tossing them in her hamper to wash in the morning. After changing into a new acceptable and clean pair that Heather is sure will be ruined in a few hours, she brings out the cleaning supplies from under her sink and begins to clean at a feverish pace in a dazed state.

Ah, Heather thinks bitterly with a crazed and forced smile on her face, scrubbing extra hard on the sink as the thought flits in her mind, I get it now.

❀

“It’s Courtney,” Heather admitted to the group with a scowl present on her face. None had to ask her to elaborate, and none mention her scowl or her cough at the name. Heather’s scowl deepens further when she notices Gwen and Harold sighing in unison, sliding money to Izzy and Eva, who gladly accept them, with defeated sighs. “Wha —! Did you guys seriously bet on this? I’m literally dying over here!”

The words silence the group before Gwen snorts, and with that, the rest join her and laugh. Heather has half the mind to tell them that they’re in a library, but realizes she sounds freakishly like Courtney. Plus, for once, Gwen is choking on her laughter rather than flowers, so Heather allows it just for once with her own small smile and laugh.

“You know,” Harold manages to choke out, eyebrows raised in either surprise or amusement, “I didn’t take Courtney as your type.”

“Me neither,” Heather mutters. “Who did you think my type was?”

He shrugs. “Alejandro was my main suspect. I thought Justin was Eva’s crush, at first, to be honest.”

The laughter dies down momentarily as the group stares at Harold in confusion. Gwen, cracking another smile, mutters, “Harold, they’re lesbians,” before collapsing in another fit of laughter.

This time, Heather joins in more easily, and it feels like the most natural thing in the world. The flowers momentarily disappear, along with Courtney and thoughts of her love.

❀

END OF PART ONE

#total drama #td heather #td courtney #td gwen #td eva #td izzy #td harold #heathney #gweoff #izva #evzy #my writing #heathney hanahaki au #hanahaki #part 1/3

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lazaefair · 4 years

Text

Has anyone done the Disney Princess AU yet

Part 1 - written by me, @poemsingreenink, and @iwritesometimes

poemsingreenink: Like, if anyone has big, soft innocent eyes it's Marwan who I swear to god looks near happy tears in most intense scenes. I at one point during Aladdin in theaters thought "You know Jafar's maybe just not had a great life. He's really having a day here." BECAUSE OF HIS BIG SOFT EYES.

lazaefair: LUCA MARINELLI HIMSELF SAID IT

sarah: HOWWWWW DID HE EVEN GET CAST AS JAFAR LIKE THOSE ARE DISNEY PRINCESS EYES

lazaefair: I...I need somone to draw Joe in a Disney Princess dress

sarah: but WHICH PRINCESS i feel like belle's off the shoulder gold ballgown has promise

lazaefair: Ariel’s pink gown would really drive the point home, though Although you’re right, Belle is a literate, dreamy brunette who loves poetry, so she’s closer as an archetype

sarah: i'll be honest: i was mostly thinking of getting his shoulders nude

lazaefair: Nicky is Ariel. Big blue eyes, otherworldly, utterly uncivilized.

sarah: YES

So imagine: Prince Yusuf, who had a giant statue of himself gifted to him on his birthday, and who hates it because his best friend (and immortal general of the army) Andromache is NEVER GOING TO LET HIM LIVE IT DOWN.

Also imagine: feral merman siren Nicolò who bites off fishheads and communicates through weird clicking noises, when he’s not singing men to their deaths. He’s not one of those useless pretty koi mermaids, no. He’s a motherfucking creature of the deep. Lamp eyes that are used to distract fish prey. Claws and pale fins and an intense stare and fangs.

Now imagine: Prince Yusuf going overboard in the storm that hits his royal yacht. Struggling, swept away, half-drowned and losing hope fast when an unearthly song fills the air, low and sweet and compelling. He’s swimming towards the singing before he realizes it, delirious, until something closes around his ankle and drags him under. The thing under the water kills him quickly.

And then kills him again, when it doesn’t take. After the third killing, Nicolò’s on his way to being well and truly mystified (“Okay, don't panic. They all die eventually, maybe...maybe I’ll just need to do it again?”) and gives up after the fourth and fifth killing. He drags his (attempted) prey to a little sheltered island he knows about, kills it one last time just to make sure, and then watches, resigned, as the flesh heals up and the lungs push water out until it’s coughing its way back to undeniable life.

“You rescued me,” is the first thing Yusuf says to him. “Your song – it is the song of my heart. My soul.”

Nicolò...has no idea what to do with this, coughs awkwardly in reply, and leaves before he can think too hard about the warmth in his chest answering to the warmth in the human’s expressive, grateful eyes.

(He doesn’t tell Yusuf the truth about their bloody first meeting until years later. It’s too goddamn embarrassing, to be perfectly honest.)

Of course he comes back within a day, almost shamefully quickly. Unable to help being fascinated by this gorgeous, well-spoken, kind and generous human who cannot die. He starts bringing things to Yusuf: at first just fish, then interesting-shaped fragments of rock and coral, and then bits of treasure he’s collected over the years, just to hear what new poetic turn of phrase Yusuf will spout on the spot when he’s given something.

“...this is my family crest on this treasure chest, Nicolò. How strange.”

“It is the chest you said your great-great-grandfather lost,” Nicolò says, the words coming out dry and halting from long years of disuse. Watching Yusuf’s hands as he traces the elaborate lines engraved on the lid, now blurred with rust and coral.

“That’s amazing. Truly. I am at a loss for words,” Yusuf says, smiling.

“No, you aren’t,” Nicolò says, and keeps watching so he can see the moment when the smile turns into a laugh.

Another day, he brings to Yusuf what Booker had told him was called a ‘dinglehopper’ and was what humans used to keep their hair in order, as they did not have the ocean to spread it out like beautiful seaweed in the waves. Yusuf takes it, mouth twitching in a way that makes Nicolò doubt the accuracy of Booker’s explanation. Yet Yusuf does not correct him, but in fact solemnly thanks him before offering the dinglehopper back and asking him to help untangle his riot of curls.

And so it goes. Days pass. Fascination becomes infatuation, turns to desire and then into love, until neither can imagine living without the other, and yet—

Eventually, Nicolò has to give Yusuf up. The prince is too noble and good to just abandon his people indefinitely. And because Nicolò loves him, he goes out and once more lures a ship in with his song, but not to dash it to pieces on jagged rocks this time. He leads them to the island. Watches from a distance as the astonished shouting begins, then back-pounding hugs and joyous celebration as Yusuf boards the ship and sails away. Watches Yusuf turn back more than once to scan the beach, clearly looking for Nicolò, but Nicolò does not follow. Instead, he watches until the ship is lost to his sight and he cannot feel the ship’s current or smell, and then he dives deep and goes to visit Merrick.

Meanwhile, Yusuf arrives back at the capital, where his other best friend, Quỳnh (immortal admiral of the navy) feels terribly guilty about the prince going overboard on his birthday. Which is why she uncharacteristically doesn’t give him shit when he comes back babbling nonsense about mermaids. Or when he spends the next few weeks moping around, writing mermaid poetry and drawing mermaid pictures.

To be fair to him, the particular mermaid he sketches over and over does look pretty striking. Otherworldly and all that. Good cheekbones. Nice pearly scales. “Fucking...giant anglerfish eyes,” Quỳnh mutters while she and Andy look over the latest pile of sketches Yusuf’s left abandoned on a library table. “Our prince has been fucking bewitched by a fucking fish.”

“Mm,” Andy agrees.

So when Nicolò arrives at the palace one fine summer’s day – naked, his fangs smoothed away to look perfectly human, a giant emerald in one hand and a silver fork in the other – and walking, on legs, it causes a bit of an uproar.

“You still smell like the sea,” Yusuf says hoarsely into Nicolò’s neck, the two of them wrapped around each other as closely as two bodies can be.

“Oh, fuck,” Andy says, lowering her axe. Quỳnh looks more closely at the dirty naked wild man their prince is embracing as if his life depends on it. Angular face. Skin encrusted with salt. Absolutely enormous piercing blue eyes. Naked, did we mention naked.

“Oh, fuck,” Quỳnh says.

“You get them separated,” Andy says. “I’ll go...get them a bath.”

The price Nicolò paid for his new human shape:

His siren song.

His immortality.

What he gets in return:

Yusuf teaching him what a dinglehopper is actually called, and what humans actually use it for.

Yusuf teaching him how to read and write his native tongue, and a few other tongues besides.

Yusuf reading poetry to him or sketching next to him on long lazy afternoons in the gardens.

The immense pleasure of intimidating the fuck out of any remaining would-be suitors for Yusuf’s hand in marriage who are still hanging around the palace for some reason.

“I am Nicolò di Genova,” Nicolò replies to the marquis’s indignant demands – predator’s smile still frightening even without endless rows of needle-sharp teeth. “You have seven days to leave this place forever. Get your affairs in order.”

Friendship with Andy and Quỳnh.

“Holy shit. Did he just—”

“—stab the marquis with a fork, at dinner, in front of the entire court? Yep.”

“...”

“New best friend.”

“Obviously.”

Yusuf writing poetry about him and to him. Nicolò likes them all. He wouldn't know a good human poem from a bad human poem, but nothing Yusuf touches could be bad, so ergo it's good.

Sightseeing throughout the kingdom with Yusuf’s strong, gentle fingers twined around his.

Yusuf breathing blissful curses into Nicolò’s ear, exactly like he used to do on their island, as they move together on his enormous bed.

Yusuf. Yusuf. Yusuf.

(Booker is also there. He insisted on being turned human, too, and coming along to make sure Nicolò doesn’t totally fuck this up, but he’s really mainly there for the entertainment. And the booze. Andy asks him at one point about losing his immortality. He shrugs. “Look, if we die, we die,” he says, then offers Andy another pour of fine French brandy. The two of them get along famously.)

It’s all going great until one night on the beach, while they’re walking along hand-in-hand under the stars and idly discussing human and merfolk constellations. Someone approaches them, dressed splendidly and moving with arrogant grace. He is also angular, also fair-haired, also possessed of unsettling eyes. And he has Nicolò’s siren song, gently humming from the shell that adorns his neck.

“Merrick,” Nicolò hisses as Yusuf’s eyes grow glazed and blank, and he tightens his hand on Yusuf’s, afraid for the first time. “Our deal—”

“He can’t bear the idea of living forever without you, can he? And so he hasn’t proposed,” Merrick says, smiling cruelly. “You’ve missed your chance. He’s mine.” And he extends his hand out to Yusuf—

Who stirs, suddenly, and turns to Nicolò. “Limpid, or shimmering?”

“What?”

“Shimmering,” Yusuf decides, peering into Nicolò’s eyes. “Yes. Limpid would be too pretentious, I think.”

And that’s pretty much that – we don’t actually get the plot with Merrick the Sea Witch because Yusuf only has eyes for one weird-looking white guy. Also, his one artistic failing is that he's tone deaf.

They do eventually kill Merrick because true love wins out and we are all about those happy endings, Grimm’s can suck it, etcetera, so Nicolò gets his immortality and his siren song back. He’s also back to being a merman, but Yusuf does not care. “I could paint your beautiful tail for the rest of my life, my love, and still fail to capture the luminous iridescence of you,” he murmurs, stroking said tail with tender fingers. The last person to touch Nicolò’s tail got his hand bitten off. Here and now, Nicolò runs his claws through Yusuf’s hair, clicking deep and happy in his throat.

(“This is weird, right?” Quỳnh asks from where she and Andy are busy scraping evil kraken guts off their armor, a prudent distance down the beach from the lovers. “I’m not the only one who thinks it’s weird?”

Andy says nothing, just offers Quỳnh the rest of her bottle of vodka. This is why Quỳnh loves her so.)

(The wedding is a nightmare, at least according to the palace chef charged with cooking the wedding feast. “What is this, this, abomination? What in heaven’s name have you brought into my kitchen!”

“Tubeworm,” Booker says. “Considered a fine delicacy among our people. Don’t worry about it.”)

#the old guard #joe x nicky #immortal husbands #kaysanova #disney princess au #by lazaefair

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alphasmoonlit-selfships · 3 years

Note

🏢, 💞, 🛌, 🐶 for your main f/o, Atsushi! Have fun! ^^

"Hello new anon! Thanks for dropping by and leaving a few emoji asks!" Atsushi grins a charming smile, "Just so you know, we greatly appreciate them and I really enjoy answering for My Darling, who is honestly surprised and bashfully grateful for me taking the lead for now." He chuckled with a glance to Dany. The petite brunette sketching something away on her tablet.

"Well lets jump right in!" 🐯🌙

🏢 Do you two live together?

We do! We actually bought a small two bed, two bath condominium sometime two years ago. 😄 We kind of made the decision after about two years of dating. And had to deal with the process of looking for a place, affording it and settling with one out of many possibilities; plus the paper work of essentially buying a place together, which itself took another year... I think during that time we kind of moved in together in the Agency dorms. Dany had her own dorm when she joined the Agency and I had still been rooming with Kyouka-chan since she joined. No surprise to still living in a closet at the age of 23 and with a late growth spurt I had a year or two back 😅.

Kyouka-chan more or less pushed me into doing so, if it meant I didn’t have to live in a closet anymore (which she found silly of me to have been doing for as long as I did). And so she didn’t have to occasionally walk into Dany and I’s… more affectionate moments… 😶 Which were rare occasions I swear, the dorms weren’t the most private places with it’s fairly thin w—! Ó//////Ò… Ah forget about that… >>

Ah, nonetheless, yeah, we bought a place together and it definitely took time to slowly get it to a more homey-like setting that we wanted to get to ☺️ we’ve had at least one get-together party with the Agency for one of our birthdays.

We’ve had a few ups and downs with living together of course, but it’s very rare encounters. And it’s usually over silly, trivial things everyone deals with…let’s just say Dany has the tendency to horde and clutter things on her desk and hates to move things around in our room… she always claims it’s clean and organized and will get mad if I so much move something of hers out of its place… 👀 well more anxious and tunnel minded when she can't find it, which I feel bad for doing ;;;;

I mean I have my faults too 😳 but I’m sure she’ll take the chance to tell you about it another time if a question like this comes around for her about me 😅

💞 How cuddly is S/I? What cuddling position you two like the most?

Dany is very, very cuddly 🥰😳 she is very in tune with her wolf a lot of the time, considering she’s had her ability far longer than I have. Her mannerisms and general personality is very cat-like, probably even more so due to my ability’s influence… but yeah, she’s a very cuddly person, mostly in private. Though, since we started dating she is a bit more affectionate in public ^/////^, which was different to see her do as someone not so into PDA, other than hand holding and a few kisses if no one is around us. She is shy, I think her confident moments are encouraged by her wolf. I can say similar things with my tiger 🐯🌙

Honestly any instance of either of us just having the chance of holding and nuzzling each other is the best time 💖 I think our most favorite cuddling position is when we’re resting on each other and running our hands through either’s hair. I love embracing her and resting my head on her chest while she caress my hair u//w//u it’s very comforting and soothing and I just feel sleepy when she does. She sings very softly too and it’s honestly so lulling to hear 🥰🥺🌙

With Dany, she is very small.. a petite little lass as she likes to refer to herself. She’s 24 and still 4’9, granted don’t let looks deceive you, she can protect herself just fine on her own! But she’s just so cute when I hold her 🥺 she is literally a koala when she settles on me to cuddle, usually resting on my stomach as she nuzzles my chest or neck and purring from her ability. I hold her so close and just murmur soft things to her, all while braiding and running my hands through her hair, soft and longer now UwU. She really loves and enjoys it.

We alternate these positions a lot, especially depending on either of our more draining days. We also love spooning, I admit I love how she just curls behind me, or how she practically holds me close and lulls me with her musings 🥰

🛌 Do you share a room/bed?

We do~ 💖 =UwU=

Honestly, the comfort of having someone next to you when you sleep or relax is…the best thing to experience 💖 and with Dany it’s just even more amazing 🥰 as I mentioned in the previous, she is a cuddlier and I am not opposed to it in the slightest, if anything it’s a comfort for me as it is for her 💖 especially in our rough days emotionally and mentally. Our bed is a comfort and loving zone, I think this meme Dany sent me once before best illustrates us and our abilities in general 🥰

It is lonely when either of us go on away mission ;;;w;;; it’s honestly not the same at all. For me at least it’s far too quiet and cold, even with the warmth my ability provides. It’s like missing that other half of me 😔 even though Dany is pretty quiet and light in her steps, there is a part of her as a person that makes some noise, be it in her actions or her little ticks.

My ability is far to attached to Dany’s too so I go into a strange phase of wondering the house… and talking to myself a bit too much as if she was around… I’m sure I’ve seen videos of cats doing something similar when things are just too still and quiet 😅. I refuse to let Dany go once she comes back, to which’s she doesn’t mind, cause a lot of the time she returns exhausted and missing me too 🥺💕 it’s pretty a similar experience with her too.

🐶 Do you two have a pet? Do you want one?

Eh 😅 no we don’t, yet surprisingly it feels like we do most of the time due to our animal abilities. There are instances where either of us just turn into our abilities for lazying about and end up with our bed or sofa covered in fur >.> no surprise at all that tigers and wolves have very thick fur, and shed a good amount in the summer…

So probably not anytime soon,,, we do however have several stray cats around the outside of our condo. Dany and I have a big soft spot for them, so we leave them food every so often! If we do get a pet companion in the future it will likely be a cat 🐱 we already have enough of our animal gifts so we’ll see how we deal with a third in the mix later on 😅…wait… I think that came out wrong... O////O

Er... I think that was all the questions for now! Thanks again for the asks! We sincerely appreciate it and look forward to taking over for a bit longer for Dany <3 �� Atsushi 🐯🌙

#atsushi nakajima #atsudany #Danielle mika Mason 💞✨#f/o takeover asks #self ship community #self shipping ask #bungou stray dogs #tag: we are of the moon and stars my dear #tiger roars #mi Estrella 💖✨#my darling 💖💖🐺🐺✨✨

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missorgana · 4 years

Text

like a tattoo kiss

pairing: karolina dean/nico minoru

fandom: marvel’s runaways

rating: general

word count: 4228

warning: swearing

summary: Nico doesn't get nervous. Except around pretty people. Especially around pretty people. (tattoo parlor AU)

(it’s been 84 years... Finally, i am writing!! life and uni has been extremely messy, so i’m just so glad to be creating again uwuu. this was meant for the @augustwritingchallenge but alas... i miss my alien and witch girlies!! thank you to my baby @griffinbellamy for beta reading <333 you are Everything. hope you enjoy this mess!!)

read on ao3

Nico doesn’t get nervous.

Or rather, she’s not the type of person to be nervous. Especially while working.

Her parents weren’t over the moon when she told them what line of work she was aiming for, not that she needs their permission or anything, but they’d warmed up to her internship over time.

Many times she had tried to explain why exactly she liked her art to be expressed through ink on skin, but parents just don’t understand some things. All hail rebellious teenagers, or something.

Amy’s always been supportive, because she’s an angel, Nico thinks, and her sister managed to get them along, somehow.

In the end, they were probably just happy to get her out of the house more.

By a string of luck she had found a local tattoo parlour, well, actually, the city’s best, and they were willing to take her on, along with her best friend, coincidentally.

And the boss kept an eye on her and Alex to make sure they didn’t misbehave, but just like herself, he wasn’t the type to mess around with the things he was passionate about.

They had always been excellent lab partners way back, considered each other their partner in crime, no less.

And over time, they both were allowed to work more freely. Even to the point of taking their own clients, albeit only walk-ins, for now.

This week, a little thing about Nico’s inability to get nervous might be changing, but she only knows that when a walk-in comes along late Friday afternoon.

It’s actually an hour and a half before closing time, that is, and they weren’t expecting much more people besides reservations.

But low and behold, when the bell above the door rings, Nico glances up to the sight of two young people, surely the same age as her and Alex.

And while the guy wears a leather jacket, messy brown hair that she isn’t sure which direction it was meant to go, the girl following behind him has her blonde hair in a braid over her shoulder, and is, unlike her companion, more appropriately dressed for the weather which has been abnormally hot this season.

The stranger tugs the cardigan on her shoulders over her white dress just a little. She looks impatient, poking the guy’s shoulder and saying something low and unintelligible.

Did Alex have to pinch her side to get the attention he wanted? Looks like it, yes.

Because holy shit.

Nico sort of feels like a deer in headlights, which is a joke, this is not anywhere near a situation like that, and a stupid metaphor, anyway.

But her previous string of keeping her cool, not letting her nerves overtake her entire being, is getting, well, thrown out of the window at this moment.

Alex likes to call this her “bisexual panic”. He’s a little bit of an asshole.

Well, they both are, but it doesn’t matter, because if Nico has to hear him tease her about “being a wreck around pretty people” one more time, she might just lose it.

It’s fine. She’s a customer, a civilian like herself, keep it together.

Thing is, this might just be the prettiest girl she’s ever laid her eyes upon. Sounds melodramatic, she knows.

This stranger looks like an extreme polar opposite of herself, in terms of fashion sense, anyway, but it wouldn’t be the first time.

She likes tall people, too.

Also, the blonde turns her head, seemingly surveying the parlour with a skepticism in her eyes that Nico’s seen many, many times, but it doesn’t faze her, because those eyes are the clearest blue possible.

She pushes a strand of hair behind her ear, and Nico notices a small cross hanging around her neck.

Again, not exactly the community she herself hangs around, which might explain why she’s, tragically, never seen this person before now, but Nico’s experienced far too much shit to be judgmental.

“You done staring?” Alex’s voice mumbles on her left side, swiftly passing by to greet the two potential clients.

Guess he’s just earned himself another eyeroll. Or a death stare, maybe.

Her voice of reason gets to her, despite the, ugh, panic, and if she just runs this on their autopilot measure of things, as usual, it’ll all be fine.

Yes, definitely.

This isn’t some fairytale land, Nico tells herself, it’s not like this is your moment finally meeting the love of your life, or whatever, and you’ll live happily ever after.

She’ll most likely never see her again. She’s just very, extremely pretty- no, beautiful. Can’t blame her for being a little dumbfounded, right?

Alex is the kind of person who could make meaningful conversation with a toddler, a parrot, or a brick, if he really wanted to, so Nico’s glad to let him do most of the talking, as always.

He usually explains the basics to the clients, asks them about the design they have in mind (if they have an idea to begin with, that is), and that’s usually when he pulls Nico out from her thoughts, especially in situations like this where there’s more than one customer in the parlour at the time.

Given that their boss has more or less left them in charge of the shop till closing time today, however, she decides to make her way into the conversation herself.

“We’re getting matching tattoos!” the brunette guy tells them eagerly, a smug grin on his face, and judging by the impatience visible on his companion’s face, Nico has a feeling this wasn’t her idea.

She still sports a fond smile, though, despite her still not looking totally convinced of her… friend? partner?’s idea.

Alex nods politely, his customer service smile put on like he owns the place, and makes sure to present her to their soon-to-be canvases, “We’re interns here, Nico and I, but we got plenty of experience, so you’re in safe hands.”

And now, the girl looks directly at her. She might just mentally combust.

Nico has always hated those romantic traditions, and Valentine’s Day, and love at first sight, please, what vomit inducing bullshit.

She has to remember that, especially now, because a way too pretty girl looks at her up and down, very subtle and quick, so much so that it could be missed, but the bright smile she gives her makes her heart jump in her chest.

Nico smiles back, of course. She’s not an asshole.

“This is Chase and Karolina, by the way.” her best friend tells her, because administration, obviously, even though his voice definitely isn’t forgetting her and her panic, but fuck that.

Karolina.

She brushes another lock of hair out of her face, and Nico’s struggling to keep her attention on the transaction. She can’t be like this right now, nope, as sweet as the smile with pink lips staring her in the face is.

“So, you got a design?” Nico then inquires, once the pricing and everything is out in the open, knowing too well Alex will tease her more the longer she stares, and well, doesn’t know what to do with herself, so she might as well get on with it.

“A ‘C+K’ should do it, really, Oh! Can you do a heart?”

And Karolina sticks her tongue out at her companion, but he laughs nonetheless, like he can’t hold it back, bumping her shoulder.

They’re a couple.

Of course.

Nico should’ve seen it coming, she guesses, if she wasn’t so hung up on how pretty this girl was, it should’ve been obvious.

Ugh, it doesn’t even matter, anyway, because there wouldn’t even be a chance.

She’s a customer, she reminds herself, that’s like, the most unprofessional that could be. And even if they weren’t, and even if it was different, Nico could never tell if the girls she liked were into her or not. Or the boys, for that matter.

The partners previously always made the first move on her, which Alex explained by her being the most stubborn person he knows. Whatever.

Without Nico not realising much else conversation, it seems fitting that Alex takes on Chase’s shoulder blade, while her canvas turns out to be Karolina’s upper arm.

Alex and her cleaned the sketch up they brought, their clients both approved, and here they were.

It’s simple, really, a pink heart, with an added arrow through it because Alex likes to turn everything as extravagant as possible. And the initials, of course.

And Nico’s more than used to being close to total strangers like this.

Like, with most areas of the body, even. But those other people weren’t the prettiest girl in the world, so, you know.

And to make matters worse, once Karolina’s seated, and Nico’s sanitized the area, tracing the outline, the too pretty stranger starts talking. She knows this doesn’t sound like a bad thing, but Nico was already nervous, and far from an expert at small talk.

The blonde does seem to know how to lead a conversation.

Because the outline finished, glancing up to make sure the client’s still on it and not chickening out, wouldn’t be the first time, the pretty girl gives her another sweet smile, too sweet, really, and states, “I like the way you work.”

Nico has to blink a few times, because she’s not sure she quite understands what that means. Maybe she’s too used to lewd jokes from her peers that everything turns into an innuendo by now. Fucking hell.

So she opts for a, “You do?” as a reply.

Karolina nods. Gracefully, she has to describe it, not overly excited or eager, though the intention’s definitely there.

“I mean, you looked really concentrated a couple seconds ago. I don’t know. You’re gentle.” and she finishes her sentence with a shrug.

Gentle. Nico has never in her wildest imagination expected someone to associate that term with her. She’s never been called that.

Maybe her insides get a little fluttery. So what?

She’s not a giggling schoolgirl, she can keep her composure, and she does, but hopefully without the coldness she usually goes for when something doesn’t go as expected.

This girl doesn’t deserve that.

And honestly, this is feeling way too intimate way too fast.

The boys are already bantering about whatever video game they’re apparently both into, because, somehow, Alex manages to keep his lines straight while laughing at dumb puns and other ridiculous Alex-things.

Also, can this girl stop staring at her?

If Nico couldn’t control herself as well as she could, she might’ve been blushing. It’s only been ten minutes, come on, now.

Karolina seems a tad more… curious than most of her clients, anyway.

It’s like she’s observing every line she makes, at least, what she can crane her neck enough to follow.

So, inclined to distract herself from the thought of a pretty girl watching her, she asks, without thinking too much, “What are you studying?”

Nico’s got an excuse, cause her wrist is resting on the armrest, fashioned with an university pride bracelet, seriously.

The girl blows a hair away from her nose.

“Philosophy,” she tells her, in a shy, half-embarrassed tone, “Not my parents’ first choice.”

So Nico has to scoff. “Welcome to the club.”

The fact that they can have a laugh at this notion, a proper one, not as loud and bashful as the boys, but fuck them, this is like treading the deep waters of the pool, knowing someone’s holding your hand.

She doesn’t know where that comparison comes from.

…

It’s kind of excruciating, the way the session comes to a both disappointing and long awaited end.

The tattoo’s easy, and Nico’s nonsensical pining, or whatever it is, can’t just last here forever, she knows.

Karolina stayed quiet once they’d established their mutual bond of parents not trusting their decisions, besides the occasional humming, which she probably didn’t even realise she was doing, and offhand remarks to the boys about them being more serious.

The girl had seemed eager to get this thing over with when they came in, but once Nico announced her arm bandaged and in need of rest, she didn’t exactly miss the now anything but eager pout.

It’s not like she said anything, but Nico thinks her reading of people is improving. She’ll convince herself of that, anyway, to support the logic in her head.

The boys had fun, but she didn’t expect any less of Alex.

The fact that he’s made friends with multiple clients, or “established connections”, as he calls it, with the elder ones, seems exhausting to Nico.

She does envy him, though.

At least, she wishes she had that skill set right now, to have gotten a lot more meaningful conversation out of this meeting.

Don’t be fooled, she knows when a crush of hers is off limits, but who knows, maybe they could be friends. Not that they seemed to have much more in common, but, you know.

Karolina just seemed special to her brain, or heart, or whatever.

Doesn’t matter anymore, does it?

Chase proudly shows her their matching marks, which Nico would roll her eyes at if she could, and Karolina laughed with a sigh.

Nico’s got a sense that she’s, still, not all in on this. Too late now, she supposes.

And she’s never understood couple tattoos anyhow, because in Nico’s relatively short life on earth so far, she’s learned that most things come to an end.

It’s not necessarily pessimistic, or at least she tells herself that, because graduating was nice, and then she started an internship, so maybe endings really just mean that you’re ready for beginnings.

Sounds ridiculous when she thinks about it, but maybe they discuss that on Karolina’s philosophy course, who knows.

Besides, seems odd they would do it without mutual approval on both parts.

But of course, Nico doesn’t know these people at all, so who is she to ponder on their relationship?

And so the couple pay their bill, Alex exchanges numbers with Chase, because of course, and Karolina lingers just long enough that Nico suspects she might have something on her mind.

The blonde has a hand on her hip when she says, “He’s ridiculous.”

Nico doesn’t know if it was meant for her ears or the taller girl simply thinks out loud, but none or the less, she’d feel rude not to respond.

“It was nice meeting you guys,” is what’s coming out of her mouth, as casual as possible, emphasis on guys, “and hope you like the tattoo, regardless.”

Karolina scrunches up her nose, which is, um, adorable, like her words were troubling, but she still nods, more than once, “Definitely.”

And the girl looks to the side again, the boys fistbumping and Chase already snapping a picture of his mark. He’s stupidly proud of it, huh.

Nico can’t say he’s unlikable, can she? Maybe that’s part of his charm.

“You coming?”

And Karolina laughs again, sticking her tongue out, but starts moving when he almost bounces out the door, his attention immediately taken by a very important text message, it seems.

“Your art’s gorgeous, Nico.” she says over her shoulder, “See you around, right?”

And it’s said like a matter of fact, a law of nature, as if Karolina had searched for her work on the display walls, carefully eyeing the artist name labels.

She couldn’t have sounded any more sincere.

Nico nods, before she mentally combusts.

And the girl and her flowing dress are out the door in a flash, and if Alex’s laugh is any indication, Nico’s flushing beet red.

Gorgeous.

…

As if she received a small static shock, that’s how the weekend passes by for Nico.

Fast enough that she sits, on Monday, failing to remember anything noteworthy she spent her time with.

Well, she stayed over at Alex’s, since he swore to introduce her to Wolfenstein, whatever that word means. It turned out to be a game about killing nazis, so yeah, her interest was won soon enough.

Not that this is the point or anything.

The point’s more like in the evening, when the boss has a family emergency and needs them to close up alone, which they are fully capable of, mind you, and a familiar face walks through the door.

It’s not the first time customers have returned, far from it.

Whether it be one of many patrons of the parlour, who they both have been introduced to by now, or the many new friends Alex is so brilliant at making.

Today, though, Alex does show off a knowing smile, but it’s pointed right at Nico, and she kind of wants to pinch him and his ever annoying smugness away.

And he doesn’t even stay to greet their former client or anything. Looks like his plan is to leave her to her own devices, spotting Chase outside and swiftly swinging out the door in one fluid movement.

Asshole.

And well. Nico’s one again faced with this girl, who made her blush too damn much for just one meeting.

Karolina’s wearing blue jeans this time around, and a crop top, damn, she cannot imagine that white leather jacket is giving much warmth on a foggy day like this one.

She waves. Nico has to wave back. It’s not like she was supposed to clean this chair or anything.

Seems like duties are put on hold around the prettiest girl ever.

Her smile comes off shy, but Nico can’t imagine anyone feeling shy around her. Well, she’s come off rather terrifying, more like, to the local school bullies back in primary school.

They made her sick, she had fists, and her all-black wardrobe was certainly helpful in that mission too.

Then, in the thought of punching bullies, Karolina’s in front of her, seemingly, consciously, leaving her some space, which she’s grateful for.

Common decency, Nico supposes, but also, a reminder that this infatuation needs to fade if she wants to remain some form of contact with the blonde.

Her very real, very annoying boyfriend laughs outside. Nico wishes she didn’t sound so bitter.

It’s fine, you know, they’ve met one time.

Nico wants her luck to be different, but since that’s out of the picture, she wants to be her friend. Very badly.

If she could just open her mouth, dammit.

“Hey,” she starts, finally, judging by Karolina’s hesitant silence that she expects her to put out the first word, “Good to see you again. And so soon.”

The last part with a quick laugh, would sound weird, or judgmental, otherwise. Not the perfect second impression.

Is the second impression even a thing?

Karolina chuckles herself, thank god, but squints her eyes a bit and scratches her arm, “The tattoo’s looking nice, I think.”

Nico doesn’t know if there’s a question laced into that statement, but the tall girl shrugs the jacket off just enough for her to view the work, and so she moves a tad closer.

It does look nice. Still needs to heal, extremely fresh, but nice.

Definitely one of the better couple tattoos she’s done, Nico tells herself.

And she nods, and Karolina settles her jacket properly, and that subject is dealt with.

Now what?

Maybe this was all the blonde came to talk to her about. Makes sense, but also, a tiny disappointment settles in Nico’s stomach.

It’s not like she had high expectations though, hell, she didn’t even expect to see her just three days after the meeting.

It seems Karolina meant what she said. See you around.

But that’s just politeness, Nico figures. Artist and client.

She doesn’t know if she can ever learn from Alex’s mastery of the social art, to be honest. Stupid Alex things.

“So-” the girls find themselves speaking at the same time, and Nico chuckles awkwardly, but the blonde smiles too warmly for it to matter. “You were saying?”

And Nico’s about to answer, only she notices a third person joining Chase and Alex.

A relatively short girl, pushing her glasses up her nose and purple-dyed hair in two small buns.

And she kisses Chase on the cheek. Which, of course, friends do that. Nico and Alex don’t, but then again, they fistbump and shove each other more than anything else.

She can’t help but furrow her brows. It’s probably nothing, she thinks, forget about it.

“I was just thinking, if you wanna see some of my non-tattoo art one day.” Nico shrugs, better make it as casual as possible.

And Karolina’s eyes light up impossibly, and her nose scrunches up again when she smiles. Nico didn’t notice her freckles last time, weirdly.

“I’d love that, Nico!” she says, of course, looking excited and adjusting her ponytail, “I figure Chase wanna show Alex some of his gadgets. Something like that. I don’t know.”

That they can both laugh at. Doesn’t surprise Nico, given that Alex has been honing his coding skills since he was like fifteen.

She wasn’t even surprised when he offered to hack the school system and change her stupid history grades. It’s not like she agreed. But oh, did she consider it.

Nico scratches her neck. She wants to escape the conversation, which she’s experienced too many times to count, but also, she wants to stay there forever. Not that usual.

“Honestly, Alex has been talking about him. A lot.” she tells the blonde with a huff, and she smiles fondly, “Be careful he doesn’t steal your boyfriend.”

Nico’s been organizing the table in front of her during the conversation, it’s natural for her to do something with her hands, especially, well, now that she’s able to be nervous, apparently.

But it’s like something suddenly shifts.

When Karolina doesn’t laugh at her remark, Nico looks up, and the tall girl is frowning.

It looks wrong on her face, even though her nose is still scrunched, just the way it was with that smile a few minutes ago, making her feel these weird flutters somewhere deep in her chest.

So, naturally, Nico’s about to ask if she’s okay, because she’s suddenly terrified she’s said something wrong, or implied what her thoughts, somehow, until, “Chase? My boyfriend?”

Okay, Nico doesn’t really know what to say now.

Given her tone, Karolina’s clearly not comfortable. Maybe she’s ashamed of Chase? But that can’t be it, they got tattoos together, for goodness’ sake.

“Yeah? Sorry, did I say something wrong?”

“Oh, no!” the blonde looks confused, but reaches her arm out, like she’s going to touch Nico’s shoulder, but she doesn’t, “Or I mean, Chase. He isn’t my boyfriend.”

Her tone is stern without being angry. Elegant.

It’s now Nico’s own turn to frown. Shakes her head at herself.

“I’m so sorry.” she says, and tries to form a longer sentence in her head, without sounding desperate, “I didn’t mean to assume anything. I just, well, the tattoo looked like a couples tattoo, is all.”

And she tries a small smile, unsure if this relation’s already gone to hell after a weekend, but luckily, the tall girl’s frown is gone as fast as it appeared, and she’s biting her lip.

Nico’s more relieved than anything that she’s smiling back.

Then Karolina shakes her head, “Chase is an idiot.”

Again, like an unspoken, mutual understanding, they both laugh. Nico cannot for the life of her tell where this conversation is going.

And so the blonde continues, “It was a stupid bet. The tattoo, that is.”

Now, it does take a second, but it clicks in Nico’s brain. This is also new, and she didn’t know she could be more nervous, but here we are.

“I see.” she replies simply, glancing out the glass door, and figuring the bright haired girl out there must be Chase’s girlfriend.

Karolina chuckles. “They’re adorable.”

They’re looking at the same thing, it seems, so Nico can only nod, and wonder, if this is all, and the blonde is going to step out the parlour, and if the misunderstanding will be forgotten or not.

And they stand there for what seems like forever, but Karolina doesn’t leave.

No, she turns back to Nico, licks her lips, and folds her hands in front of her, “I’m sorry. I mean, God, I must be bad at flirting.”

Flirting?

This is going a little too fast for her. And now Karolina looks nervous too, but continues, impressively not stumbling over her words, “I mean, boys aren’t my thing. I-uh, I wasn’t sure if I should come, but Chase insisted I should make a move.”

Nico knows what’s going on. And she can’t say Alex was wrong when he said the blonde was “totally into her”, despite her very concerned, real protests about the very real boyfriend. Or well, very not real, it turns out.

So, instead of thinking of the nerves still sitting right beneath her skin, Nico lifts an eyebrow, trying to make sure what’s happening isn’t some imaginary dream scenario that’ll end in a blink.

“A move?”

The tall girl shrugs, biting her lip again. “Please tell me if this is crossing the line. I just…. you’re very pretty, is all.”

That’s fucking adorable.

“You think I’m pretty?” Nico replies, feeling her smile grow too stupidly bright. It’s not long before the girl in front of her mimics it.

Fuck, Nico, you’re going soft.

Alex is going to tease her for weeks after this. But she’ll worry about that later.

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awkbo0b · 4 years

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Two of a Kind:1

A/N: Hey everyone, I finished Outer Banks on Netflix about a week ago and I fell in love with the Pogues. Mainly JJ. So I after reading some of there really creative writing about JJ x Reader i came across an idea for my own spin off story. the girl in the story will be named Mae Clemonds, this helps my flow with writing. Also this chapter is going to be a bit boring since i need to introduce my characters and give background on them, but once this passes it should be better and will have much more of JJ and the rest of the Pogues!

Now imagine JJ meeting a girl who is so much like him he can hardly stand her, and same goes to the girl. Can you already feel the sexual tension?

Warnings: swearing, underage drinking

As I pack my third suitcase that i have strictly made for my art supplies, I hear a knock at my door. “Hey, Mae, how is it going in here?” I turn to see my mom standing in the doorway, she has dry clay smeared across her forehead, as usual, and her curly ginger hair is somehow managed into a bun on top of her head.

“Oh you know, it’s going. Got all my water colors here,” I say as i point to them in my suit case, “and my notebooks here, and all my brushes, pencils, and pens are in the pocket.” I smile as i close the suit case and zip it up. “Now I am all set.” I glance at the other two large suitcases that are full of clothes and bathroom necessities, then up to meet my mom’s bright blue eyes. “How about you and dad?”

Mom returns a smile, “Good, your farther finished packing this morning and we just finished the piece as planed. Once I am washed up we will be ready in about thirty minutes, go ahead and load these into the car.” she responded as she pushed herself away from the door frame and began to turn away from the room. “It’s going to be a great summer, I can feel it!” mom adds as she gracefully moves down the hallway, throwing her hands in balled fist above her head as if she just won something.

A couple months ago my aunt Sadie called my mom and dad offering a once in a life time opportunity. Something that you should know about my family is that we are artist, all of us. My great grandma Allison was the one who started the line of artist. She was an amazing painter, oil was her favorite but you could give her mustard and she would still create art. Her and my great grandpa Clemonds opened up their own gallery, and it has been passed down through the generations. The artistic touch also ran through the family. Not all of us are painters, some are photographers, and others are sculptors like my mom and dad. I like to draw/sketch and use water colors. But no matter what their choice of media is, my family creates art and adds it to the gallery. The Clemonds family is widely well known in the art community.

So back to the once-in-a-lifetime-opportunity that my Aunt Sadie called my mom about a couple months ago, is the chance for them to create a series together.

About two years ago my Aunt Sadie and her family moved to the coast of North Carolina for a new scenery for their photography. Living in Chicago does give you a lot to work with but my Aunt needed something with more green and less buildings. This move included my cousin Tony, who also happens to be my best friend.

Tony said that where she lives is called Outer Banks and the elite class of the area are a different level of filthy rich. Nose up in the air, refuse to look at anyone who makes anything less that six figures a year level of filthy rich. And these people did their research on my cousin’s family the second they moved in down the street and instantly started asking for personalized art they could buy.

My Aunt agreed to set up her own business to start selling her art there without the ties of the family gallery back at home, and then one day she came up with a great idea. She wanted my mom and dad to come to North Carolina and to work with her. Neither me or Tony know what our parents had in mind but after two years I’m going to see my best friend, and the plane leaves in 2 hours.

The drive from the airport to Tony’s house felt hours, I am so excited to see her. We facetime every day but it’s not the same and seeing each other in person. Once the rental car pulls into the long driveway leading up to one of the biggest houses I have every seen, I see Tony running down the porch. Her long, wavy, blonde hair flying behind her with the biggest smile on her face.

“Dad, can you just stop right here for me, so I can get out?” I almost whine, just as happy to see Tony and as she is to see me. Dad chuckles and bring the car to a stop long enough for me to hop out.

Tony and I clash together in a clumsy hug. “Oh God Mae, I’ve missed you!” Tony squeals, hugging me a little tighter.

“Same here, dude,” I pull away to look at her face, to see she is crying. Tony and I are so different in so many ways. She is that cute soft girl who wears skirts, always her hair done, and is emotional. Where as with me and my dark brunette hair, I like to wear worn down t shirts and shoes with denim shorts that are frayed at the end. I speak everything that comes to mind, down for almost anything, and communicating emotions is my weakness.”Lets get my shit inside so you can show me around.” I wrap my arm around her shoulder and we make our way to the parked car to unpack.

After unpacking Tony told me about a ‘kegger’ that was going to go down near the beach called the boneyard.

“Fuck yeah, lets do it!” I say in a loud whisper so her parents didn’t hear.

Tony laughs, “just to remind you though, remember when I told you about the rival between kooks and pogues?”

“Um, yeah vaguely, why?”

“Well I live in figure eight which is technically kook territory so when going to this party to avoid any drama we should probably stick with the kooks.” Tony’s voice got quieter at the end of that sentence. She knows when she tries to give me advice I typically tend to ignore it and cause issues.

“Well,” I begin, plopping myself onto her bed, “I guess I can try, but if I remember correctly, the kooks are the one who are in the wrong most of the time?” My parents (Tony’s parents too) raised me to not see someone as a social class, judge them on how they treat you not by how much money they have.

“Yeah, normally they talk down on the pouges because they are from much less but,-”

“But that’s not cool Tony, we both know this.” I cut her off a little more harshly than intended.

“But,” Tony’s tone is desperate for me to hear her out,”I had a lot of troubles making friends and fitting in when I first came here two years ago. And I’m just starting to not be the weird new girl who sits in the art studio all day.” Tony sits down next me. “I’m not asking you to be rude or to look down on people, just to help me keep some of the friends I have finally made here.”

I let out a long sigh, “I’ll do my best.” Tony jumped from the bed and did a little victory dance, she only did this when she got her way with me. “Well, lets start getting ready.” Tony laughs as she start going my clothes to help me find something to wear.

As we walked down a sandy pathway through the trees, a bonfire came into view, along with a large group of people around the ages of 16 to 19. The sight of the fire inspired an idea of a drawing that I will probably start tomorrow. “where should we place our cooler?” I asked Tony.

“Looks like everyone is placing theirs over by that tree, most of the time its help yourself at these things so don’t become alarmed if you see someone getting into our cooler.” Tony shakes her finger at me knowing that I wouldn’t hesitate to confront anyone. I raise my hands up in surrender.

“I’m on my best behavior tonight.” I gave my best smile, causing Tony to giggle. “Now lets start the night off right.” Once we got our cooler placed we opened it and took out a sandwich bag that contained two limes, and our small bottle of tequila. It’s tradition for us to start our nights drinking with a shot together. Once the first shot is down we drink what we want. “Cheers,” I say then take a chug from the bottle and hand it to Tony as I bite my lime, and she does the same. Then we place the tequila back and grab ourselves a beer and walk towards the crowd of people.

Tony introduces me to a couple people she has become friends with in the last school year. They all seem nice but the entitlement that radiates off of them is insane. “So, you guys are from the same family, right?” asked one of the boys who i didn’t bother to remember his name.

“I mean, that’s what cousins normally means, right?” My tone came out harsh and Tony bumped me with her hip to remind me to play nice. The guy rolled his eyes in annoyance, causing me to raise an eyebrow. “If you don’t want a sarcastic answer don’t asked a stupid question.” I finished my beer in one big gulp.

“I was just making sure because you don’t seem to be the one who lives a life like Tony’s,” I feel Tony put her arm around my shoulder to try and calm me down, but the smug express the guy had on his face pushed me over the edge.

“Oh? Because how I look really defines my social class, right?”

“Hey, we are going to take a walk.” Tony steps between me and the guy, “Enjoy your night.” she says over her should as tony pulls me from the group.

Tony and I walk toward the coolers so I can get another beer. “can’t beleive that dick head.” I utter under my breath. Tony begins to giggle, she knows there is no point in trying to lecture me, because in the end we both know I was in the right. “Seriously Tony, I’m sorry you have to be around people like that.”

“Yeah kooks are no fun,” I turn to see a blonde guy with a red baseball cap going through coolers to find a beer of his choosing. “But at least they bring good beer.” The blonde is dressed in cargo shorts and a stretched out tank top, not khakis and polo shirts like the guys Tony had just introduced you too. I notice him make his way to our cooler. He pulled out a beer, shut the lid and used it as a seat to look at you and Tony.

“Hey, lets go back to the fire, we can get a beer in a minute.” Tony’s giggling has stopped and now she’s grabbing my arm trying to pull me away.

“Ah come on princess kook, no need to be scared.” The smirk on the guys face sent excitement through me.

“Mae,” Tony started but I cut her off.

“T, you can go back. I’ll get a beer and meet you there.” I try to sound as soft as Tony does when she tries to assure me. Tony looked at the guy then back to me. She nodded and then turned to make her way back to the group of people we were just at.

“You must not be from around here, a tourist?” The blonde pulls a lighter out of his pocket and pops open they beer. “If so, I’m as local as the come and you seem to need a guide.” He then winks and take a takes a swig of the beer. I return a smirk, trying to come off as flirty and make my way towards him.

“How often does that line work for you?”

“Well, normally tourist don’t ask that question.” as I get closer I lean down to be at the same level as him, I notice the blonde look down at my lips.

“Well I dont need a guide but,” I stand up straight and take the bottle from his hand, “for a local you are a very good host, thank you for opening my beer.” I place the bottle against my lips and take a drink.

the blonde shoots up from where he was sitting and takes the bottle back from me. “Dude find your own.”

I give him an innocent smile, “Well you see, that is mine, its from my cooler.” I take the bottle back and turn on my heels, “The name is Mae, hope to see you around blondie.”

“Wished the feeling was mutual!” The blond hollers after me then I hear slight chuckles come from him. I make my way to Tony who is now with a group of girls.

A/N hey so there are probably a handful of mistakes, I was just excited to get this out. Once again, sorry for it being slow in the beginning I was trying to build Mae up so you could know her a little more. the more notes the faster the second part will come out!

UPDATE: I HAVE MOVED THIS FANFIC TO WATTPAD, HERE IS THIS LINK! LOVE YOU ALL THANK YOU FOR THE NOTES!

#jj #jj maybank #outer banks #obx #jj x #jj x reader #rudy pankow #north carolina #imagine #jj fanfiction #outer banks netflix #writng #TwoOfAKind

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irantforpleasure · 4 years

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Top image and bottom 2 by https://twitter.com/SyaoKitty

Middle Image by https://twitter.com/SuccubyArt

After that post from the lovely @tamigira I thought I’d officially make a profile about my Onward OC, this is still in the works so it’s mostly just some self indulgent fantasy ideas. Also I like to imagine since elves naturally have different shades of blue hair that some would dye their hair more earthy colours to be different. I mean we saw a blond cyclops when purple is the standard, so yeah brunette elf!

Her name’s Tullula Scrimley. She’s an artist and history nerd who lives by the mantra that history is written on the backs of the artists and writers who record it, without them we just come and go. Takes a lot of pride in playing a part in that, even if for now the only people who see her portrait of Allura the Majestic fighting the infamous wolf dragon are ...her online followers and the people on the Quest Of Yore forums. (Apparently D&D forums are still pretty big so I think QOY would be too)

Dreams of being a restorations artist, that person you call to save old paintings and sculptures from being tossed for future generations to enjoy. Also wishes to one day depict history herself in original pieces that potential could end up in a museum but for now is currently stuck working in her dad's restaurant “Jack's Castle” -working title, a knock off of the Manticore's Tavern. He vehemently denies this though.

It's obvious she’s living out her dreams of adventure through her QOY character Tullula the Wayfarer, a nomadic monk who travels the land defending civilians from danger with ofudas and documenting her journey through sketching.

Knows Barley before becoming friends in real life through the online QOY community, they meet by coincidence in person when Tullula is exchanging a box of fries for griffin wings at the Maniticores Tavern. The job with the most heavy lifting and her dad always gets her to do it, thankfully a tall stocky elf who was visiting the tavern offered to help and she couldn’t help but notice the “Quest Master” patch on his vest... Will build on this in the future.

#Onward #Onward OC #Tullula Scrimley #Barley Lightfoot

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managodess · 4 years

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Title: First Impressions Fandom: Original (AU setting) Characters: Felyx and Maya (Felyx belongs to AnonMS on Gaiaonline, Maya is my OC) Words: 1.9k Rating: E Prompt: Person A is at college, has some free time, finds a quiet spot to curl up and take a nap. When they wake, they find Person B, an art student, drawing them (without asking permission first). You choose where it goes from there.

Prompt by @otpprompts can be found here

Note: This was written in 2015 but I still think it’s cute and noticed I never posted it here.

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As the minute hand drew onto the 45-minute mark, the teacher in the front of their little class of twenty people glanced up, casting the group a smile.

“That’s it for today then. If you have any questions, feel free to ask me now or come to my office later. And don’t forget, your portfolios are due at the end of the semester.”

It was only just November, which meant that Maya had until March, but nonetheless, her teacher’s words were a reminder that she should probably get started. The requirement was showing off different traditional media and while there were some that came to her more easily – she loved working with watercolors more than anything – there were others she still had to practice with to feel more confident.

And so, casting a short glance outside and shuddering lightly at the sight of the pale grey sky that looked like incoming snow, she headed into the library, bag over her shoulder, sketchbook under her arm. She might as well start practicing some pencil sketches now; she could refine some with charcoal, colored pencils, or just shade them otherwise. Maybe she’d find some inspiration.

As she had expected, it was quiet, something that she always found rather soothing about being here. Soft footsteps announced presence her as she made her way to a table in the back of the study room, settling down and trying to make as little noise as possible. She retrieved a small leather case, which held different pencils, pens and other general sketching supplies, then moved her sketchbook onto her lap, vivid blue eyes trailing around the room for something that might make her hands itch to sketch.

When they had nearly come full circle, she noticed a figure, huddled into a corner, head tilted back a little. Even with the dark strands falling partially into his face, she could make out his features.

‘Wow… he looks really good.’

Absently, the brunette bit her lip, leaning forward a bit in her seat as her fingers moved through the pages until she found one that was still empty.

She had hoped to find inspiration, but really, it seemed as if inspiration had found her instead.

Her normally light brown braids were dangling against the paper, which explained the blotches of color in them considering her preferred medium.

Slender fingers on small hands drew the pencil over the page in her sketchbook with trained movements. A gesture first, getting down the general shape of the figure in front of her, vague, guidelines. Then, details, fleshing out his pose and body, the slight tug of fabric in parts of his attire that hinted towards him being at least somewhat muscular. His hands, which looked a little roughened, as if he worked with them often, one of them dangling limply just past his knee, the other propping up his face just above his nose.

And finally, her gaze wandered to his face, biting down on her bottom lip harder as she focused on this. The angular line of his jaw, the slight tilt of his lips, the serenity of his expression.

Just as she was sketching in more detail for his hair, she noticed a shift, more than the simple tremble of breathing.

Dark, reddish eyes were looking at her and she could feel her pale face heat up, eyes widening in shock. For a moment, he seemed confused, still in a state of waking and she took her chance, tearing the sketch from her book and thrusting it against his chest.

“Wha-…”

“I’msosorryherekeepit.”

Her words came out in one breath before she hastily grabbed her things, clutching her sketchbook closer and rushing out of the library in a half panic.

The male seemed to need another few seconds to fully wake, hands shifting to grab the paper that had been forced onto him and glancing down, surprised to see himself caught on it, in soft, elegant lines thinly sketched with a pencil.

While he hadn’t remembered all aspects the strange girl’s appearance, a few things had stuck. Blue eyes and specks of color in her hair, her braids mostly. Then that look of shock, but she had run out before he had been able to fully commit her face to memory.

This wouldn’t do…

He let out a small sigh, stretching carefully, joints cracking as they slipped back into their proper places. He moved the picture into one of his textbooks, placing it gingerly between the pages so it wouldn’t get crumpled.

His mind had immediately jumped to the one person he was sure would be able to tell him more about the mysterious artist.

He just had to find her.

There were a few places she would spend her time outside of class, but the problem was that he never quite knew when she was or wasn’t in class and truthfully, waiting until the weekend, when he would definitely see her, seemed too far away right now.

Reaching into the front pocket of his dark jeans, he retrieved his phone, fingers quickly moving across the keys on screen before sending off a message.

He didn’t have to wait long to notice a familiar, dark-haired woman enter the library and make her way towards him. Her hair gave off a blue shimmer against the light and violet eyes, no doubt contacts, stood out against her porcelain skin.

Felyx wasn’t surprised to see her draw some looks from other students in the library, who glanced up from whatever they were doing a little too long, but either she didn’t notice or didn’t care.

“You called?”

Her lips curled into a small, though curious smile and she sat down on the table, legs crossed over the edge of the table.

“Here.”

He handed her the sketch, brow furrowed slightly. “You study art… any idea who made this?”

The female’s eyes scanned across the pencil lines, then moved back up to meet his red ones. “I’d recognize those lines anywhere. That looks like one of Maya’s sketches. She specializes in watercolors… Is that… wow.”

“I’m guessing she was sketching me while I was asleep because she left me with this and ran away when I woke up.”

Mosune laughed, a soft, melodic sound.

“I don’t think she was expecting you to wake up. Anyway, we have class together again on Thursday. So that’s three days from now. Room 104, in the back building. Class ends at noon; the teacher always finishes on time. You should be able to catch her then.”

“You’re a lifesaver.”

“I know.” She smiled at him and got to her feet again elegantly. “I’ll see you soon. You owe me.”

“I know.” He cast her a smirk and watched her leave before sinking back down against the wall, in the same spot he’d slept in. His eyes trailed over the sketch, taking in every little detail. It was amazing how well she had captured him… and he hadn’t even noticed her watching him.

For the rest of the day and the entire next day, Maya found herself glancing around a lot more often, as if worried that the male might be waiting for her somewhere. To what? Complain that she had stalked him?

God… she must have seemed like such a creep.

But by the time Thursday came, she had pushed the event to the back of her mind, focused on other things. Their morning class was a practical one, working with acrylics on canvas.

She chose an easel next to a familiar face, smiling at the girl with the violet eyes.

“Hey Mosune.”

“Hi.”

The other smiled right back at her, pinning her raven hair up in a bun.

“Any idea what they want us to paint today?”

“A still life or something.” Maya frowned ever so slightly. “Seems a bit boring, don’t you think?”

“I’m sure today’s gonna end up less boring than you think.” Mosune replied, smiling back at her.

Throughout their painting assignment, the two continued to talk, until finally, the teacher ended their class, giving them time to clean their workspaces and palettes.

It was noon by the time they made their way out of the classroom and Maya found herself greeted by the familiar but unexpected sight of the boy she’d drawn in the library a few days ago. He was moving fast towards her too, holding a frame in his hands and handing it to her as he approached.

“Here. You should keep this, it’s really good.” He cast her a small smirk and she felt the familiar warmth threaten to creep into her cheeks.

“T-thanks.”

She took the frame, holding it so the picture was concealed from view by a few classmates curiously moving past the two of them. Mosune seemed almost amused by this exchange, Maya noticed.

“Maybe I’ll see you soon.” And with that, he took his leave, leaving behind a somewhat confused brunette and her amused friend.

“Is that the guy you mentioned? Looks like he even framed it for you.”

Maya nodded, head lowering a bit to hide her burning cheeks.

“God this is so embarrassing.” She muttered under her breath. “Don’t tell anyone, alright?”

“Of course not.” Mosune promised, smiling, and drawing an arm around her friend’s shoulder.

The moment she got home; Maya hung the framed picture up on the wall of her dorm.

But it wasn’t until nearly two weeks later that a completely random event brought her to pay more attention to it than usual.

Distracted from trying to find something, she tripped over her bag, bumping heavily against the wall. The impact knocked the frame down and it shattered, leaving the sketch to slip beneath her bed. She crawled down to get it and when she did, she noticed something on the back of it.

“Is that…”

A phone number.

So that was why he had spoken about hoping to see her again.

Once she had cleaned up, she retrieved her phone, quickly typing in a message to the not quite so unknown number.

“Hi! Looks like you hid this a bit better than you probably thought. I’d love to meet up, maybe for coffee? The girl with the sketchbook.”

Her attention shifted back to the sketch and a thought formed in her mind as she spread it carefully onto her desk across a layer of newspaper, grabbing her watercolors.

Without even having to think, her hands drew across the paper, adding color to the pencil lines, even without having to see him. His face was ingrained in the back of her head.

It took her about two hours to finish the sketch and only then did she check her phone to see that he had replied.

“Sure!

How does tomorrow afternoon sound? I’ll meet you at the Corner Cup?”

She sent him a quick answer, setting the time at 2 PM, then laid the picture down to dry. Time couldn’t pass fast enough and by the time the next day had arrived, Maya was more excited than she dared to admit.

As her fingers nimbly worked to put the familiar two braids into her hair, her eyes moved back to the now finished painting. She would take it with her, give it to him. And hopefully, he would accept it. A small, tiny voice in her head muttered about how it was a shame; that the painting would look amazing in her portfolio, but she silenced it. No, this would be better.

#my writing #otp prompts #original writing #original fiction #writers on tumblr #felyxmaya #octp

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jadetea-writing · 5 years

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VN Snippet #1

Little Jules Optima

(AN: Based on an earlier post)

"Oof!"

A little girl collides with Lorelei's leg—her leg won, unfortunately. She reaches down to help the kid stand up, and she's ambushed with the brightest smile she's ever seen.

"Oh my gosh! You're here!" the little girl looks at Lorelei with wonder, "Da–Father mentioned you were coming to visit, but you're really here!"

"Uh…" Lorelei looks at her girlfriend for help.

"Hey kiddo, I'm Scarlet, and this is–"

"Lorelei Linden!" the brunette cheers, "You're my favorite hero!"

Lorelei stifles a laugh at Scarlet's pout. Her girlfriend is usually the one dealing with cameras and fans, so she's accustomed to a certain level of attention.

"Yeah, that's me. I'm honored," Lorelei smiles, "What's your name?"

"I'm Juliette! But you can call me Jules!" the gi—Juliette gestures for Lorelei to lean closer, and she whispers, "I only let the people I like call me that."

"Juliette?" Scarlet suddenly perks up, "As in Juliette Optima?"

"Mhm," Juliette absentmindedly nods in Scarlet's direction, her attention focused on her idol, "Lorelei, do you want to see something cool?"

Lorelei has a silent conversation with Scarlet that ends with the redhead rolling her eyes.

"Sure, Jules, that sounds like fun," Lorelei laughs at how wide Juliette's eyes become when she uses the nickname, "It has to be quick though. We're supposed to be meeting your parents soon."

"I'll stay here, sweetie," Scarlet says, "Try not to keep the bosses waiting."

Juliette is already tugging at Lorelei's hand, "Let's go! Let's go!"

- - -

Lorelei expects Juliette's "something cool" to be a new toy or a game, or even an arts and crafts project. It's been a long time since kindergarten, but she's pretty sure that's the sort of thing kids bring for show-and-tell.

It turns out to be none of those.

Juliette is definitely an Optima. The girl can't be older than six or seven, but she's already dipping her feet into robotics.

"–and I call this one Alfred," Juliette points at a robot on treads, "Because he gets me snacks."

She types a few lines on her keyboard, and the little robot wheels away. It comes back a few minutes later holding a bag of chips in one gripper and a can of soda in the other.

Juliette looks at Lorelei expectantly, "Do you like him? He's still a little buggy sometimes and he only–"

"Alfred is very cool," Lorelei interrupts Juliette—the girl can talk, and though it's cute, most of what she's saying goes over Lorelei's head, "Is he your favorite?"

Juliette looks pleased at the compliment, but then she frowns and covers the side of her mouth to whisper, "No, but don't tell him that. He works really hard."

Juliette types on her keyboard again, and the little robot zooms away.

"Okay, I sent him home," Juliette swings her legs under her seat, "Do you want to see another?

"Sure, do you have a favorite?" Lorelei isn't usually one to spend time with children, but Juliette is quickly wriggling her way towards Lorelei's heart.

Juliette is not what Lorelei expected. She assumed the little heiress would be a typical rich kid—spoiled, sheltered, maybe even self-centered—but she's happy to find herself mistaken.

"Oooh, I dunno. I like all my bots a lot!" Juliette hums while she thinks. Lorelei knows the instant Juliette's mind is made up because the young girl bounces in excitement, "Oh! Do you want to see my newest bot?"

Her voice drops to a hush, "Can you keep a secret?"

"That depends," Juliette's face falls, "Do your parents know?"

The girl brightens, "Oh, yeah! I show them everything!"

"Then sure, as long as it's not hurting anybody."

Juliette shakes her head so hard Lorelei worries it's going to fly off, "Nuh uh! No way! My bots are good bots! Daddy just wants me to keep my powers a secret."

Oh. Lorelei's heart clenches. For someone so young to have powers…she hopes Juliette is part of the minority that get powers randomly. If she isn't, and her dad wants her to keep it a secret…

"Hey, Jules? Can I ask you something? "

"Sure! You can ask me lots of somethings!"

Juliette doesn't seem to notice Lorelei's concern, "How did you get your powers?"

Lorelei regrets the words the moment they leave her mouth. Juliette's entire body droops, and her face looks too somber for someone her age.

"Um. There were some bad guys who took me away," Juliette stares at the ground for a few seconds, then returns to her earlier cheer, "But my powers helped me get away and Daddy made sure the bad men went to jail."

Lorelei is only partly relieved, but at least it's not the worst case scenario. She examines Juliette, and while the little girl perked up again, Lorelei can see she brought up bad memories.

She takes a deep breath. This isn't really her thing, but…

"Hey Jules, do you want a hug?"

Juliette practically launches herself off her computer chair, but she's light enough that Lorelei can hold her pretty easily. The girl wraps her arms around Lorelei's neck and squeezes tight. After a minute, it doesn't seem like Juliette plans on letting go, so Lorelei takes a seat.

"How about I show you something cool?" Lorelei offers.

"Like what?"

"Well you see, I have this pet rock. His name is Flint…"

- - -

Weeks later, Scarlet comes back from a meeting with a glint in her eyes.

She sits in Lorelei's lap, "Hey babe, do you remember the Optima kid?"

"Jules?" Lorelei pauses her sketching, "Yeah. How's she doing?"

Scarlet bursts into laughter.

"What?" Lorelei pouts, "What's so funny?"

"It seems I've got some competition," Scarlet teases, "Jack thinks the kid has a crush on you."

Lorelei blushes, "Aw c'mon, you saw her. She's just a big fan. You've got lots of those."

"Yeah, but none of my fans want to build a robot to feed my pet rock."

"Did she really?!"

"She's been bugging Jack to bring her to work so she can give it to you," Scarlet smirks, "Should I be worried you'll fall for her fancy toys?"

Lorelei rolls her eyes, "You're not going to let me live this down, are you?"

"Never."

- - -

MANY YEARS LATER…

"I forgot I had this one saved," Lorelei shyly holds her phone out for people to see.

Dahlia tilts her head, "What are you holding?"

Lorelei smiles, "That was my pet rock. His name was–"

"Flint!" Juliette shouts excitedly.

Everyone turns to look at her curiously, Lorelei especially, "How did you…?"

Juliette laughs nervously, "I just thought that would be a punny name!"

No one buys it, but the conversation moves on—the entire thing is completely forgotten by the time Juliette has to choke down a spoonful of cinnamon.

- - -

"Yeah, our honeymoon," Andi says as she tugs her girlfriend away, "By-the-way-we-just-got-married byee!"

The (newly wed?) couple rushes out the door before anyone can respond. The surprise doesn't last long—Andi is involved, after all—and casual conversation starts up as the remaining members catch up.

A throat clears behind Lorelei, and she turns around to see Juliette holding something behind her back.

"Juliette?"

"Ha. Yeah, that's my name. Yup," the blonde shuffles in place, "But uh…if you want, you can call me Jules."

Lorelei's eyes widen. There's no way.

"Also, I've been meaning to give this to you for a while," Juliette holds out a box, "I called him Mason, but you can rename him if you want."

Lorelei accepts the gift, "Should I open it now?"

"If you want?" Juliette plays with her hair, "But I included documentation in the box if you just want instructions."

Lorelei sets the box down on a table and carefully opens it. Inside is a small robot that looks like Alfred, only the technology is several generations newer. There's a small remote and a booklet tucked inside as well.

"I…uh. I kept working on it. Whenever I got frustrated with other projects, I'd add upgrades or tweaks," Juliette shrugs, "It's still the original, in a Ship of Theseus kind of way."

Lorelei looks back and forth between Juliette and the robot. There's no room for denial, she's definitely–

"Little Jules Optima?" Lorelei says in a hushed tone, "But you–and we–you're…"

A familiar somber expression crosses Juliette's face.

"Oh, Jules," Lorelei understands—probably better than anyone else can, "Do you want a hug?"

It's a little more difficult this time around, but Lorelei manages to catch Juliette when the blonde leaps towards her.

- - -

(AN: The discussion about Juliette's powers involves one of my hcs—that powers tend to arise in stressful situations, and that Juliette got hers when she was kidnapped at a young age. Whether this is a shipfic or platonic is up to your interpretation. Juliette definitely had a crush as a kid, though.)

If you enjoyed this, you might like my other works on AO3, including my current project Revelations in the Dark—a Bat/Cat/MC rewrite of canon. I've just completed the first arc, which covers the events of S1 for both routes.

#villainous nights #juliette bat #juliette mcbatterson #juliette optima #lorelei linden #tea writing

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santouryuuu · 5 years

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Muse

pairing : luffy x reader

requested by : @akutagawahakuryuunosuke

Hello, can i request a high school au with Luffy please? the plot is what if he was a soccer team captain, he met her when he accidentally kicking the ball to far and knocking her off from the bench, she was the art student who lost her muse because her must got a girlfriend and meeting Luffy bring her back to painting after that is up to you hehehe thank you very much

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hellooo~ here's your request! i hope that it's what you envisioned! this is actually my first time writing for Luffy so, i'm sorry if he seems out of character 🙇‍♀️ but anyways enjoy~

×××

"Blank again, huh?"

You felt your hands freeze and your heart drop as you heard Usopp's comment. You tore your gaze away from the blank canvas to face your art teacher. You looked at the ground in shame and gave a slight nod in response.

He sighed and patted your shoulder, "It's fine Y/n. I understand that you're going through a rather rough art block. You'll get back on your feet one day."

You could feel him send a reassuring smile your way as you watched your hand tighten around the charcoal.

As if on cue, the bell rang to signal the end of the day.

"Pack up everyone! I expect to see drafts by the end of the week!" Usopp announced as he made his way around the room.

You carefully placed the charcoal back where it belonged and took out a wet wipe to clean your dirtied hands. As you were wiping your hands, you couldn't help but stare at the canvas in front of you. You wrinkled your face in distaste and felt a strong urge to just punch a rather unsightly hole through it. You resisted the urge and finished up packing.

You slung your bag around your shoulder and quietly headed to the soccer field.

In all honesty, you weren't a big fan of sports. You were far more interested in any activities that didn't involve sweating up a storm. However, you had discovered that sitting on the bleachers and watching the soccer team practice always cured your art block.

For some reason, it couldn't cure your current art block. Nevertheless, you still persisted.

You found an empty seat on the bleachers and sat down. You attentively watched as the soccer team kicked the ball around and performed a few trick shots here and there.

"Hey captain! I bet I can kick this ball farther than you can!"

"No you can't!"

"Yes I can!"

You watched as Luffy, the captain of the soccer team, made his way towards his teammate. They had a quick game of rock paper scissors to decide who would kick the ball first, Luffy won.

As the ball was set down, Luffy made running start and kicked the ball with all his might.

"Hey! Watch out!"

It was too late. The next thing you knew, a soccer ball flew straight into your face and had knocked you unconcious.

"You're in trouble now captain."

"Hey! This is your fault! Back me up Sabo!"

"Yeah no, I'm with Ace on this one."

The voices seemed to be distant but you knew it was coming from your right. As your eyes opened and adjusted to the bright flourescent lights, you groaned and sat up—instantly regretting it.

A pang of pain coursed throughout your body and you cursed as you slouched your body against the headrest of the bed.

"Oh you're lucky she's not dead."

You watched with a puzzled expression as an energetic brunette runs towards you and grabs your hand, "Hey! Are you okay?! I'm really really sorry for kicking that ball into your face!"

"Sorry what?"

"Uh oh, you gave her amnesia," the blonde sighed, "Good luck with this one Luffy."

"What are we gonna tell the old man?" the other brunette sighed.

The two men waltzed out of the clinic whilst sending mischievous glances towards the younger male. The boy next to you, Luffy, seemed amazed at their behavior, "Weirdos. "

"Sorry, what happened exactly?"

He turned to you and sent you a sheepish smile, "Ah...well you see... I may or may not have accidentally kicked a soccer ball into your face..."

You nodded, "Oh..."

"Oh? That's all? You're not mad or anything?"

You shrugged and started to look around, "It's an accident right? What could I have done? And you're sorry anyways so it's fine."

He started to laugh out of the blue, "S-Sorry, you're so weird! I just kicked a ball into your face and—Sorry."

He continued to laugh and soon you joined in his laughing, "Y-You're contagious!"

It went on like that for nearly five minutes before the nurse got annoyed and sent the both of you out.

You did argue that you were injured and unfit to leave, until she stated that you were passed out for five hours and that the only reason for your aches all over was because of your extremely poor posture, that she so generously decided to fix.

Both of you stumbled out of the clinic, still slightly giggly.

"Hey, I didn't introduce myself. I'm Luffy, the soccer team's captain. And you are?"

"Y/n, nice to meet you."

"Oh! You're that prodigal art student right? Usopp never stops talking about you!"

You felt your stomach sink and a slight blush rise to your cheeks, "H-He talks about me?"

Luffy nods his head, "I'm really sorry about your art block. But if you ask me, I think you could always just you know grab a hammer and smash it?"

You laughed, "What?"

"Isn't an art block like a big block of art?"

"No Luffy!" you laughed even harder, "It's not like that!"

He shrugged, "I don't know much about fancy art terms. I just know that you're really good at drawing!"

"Oh? How would you know?"

"I went to see your exhibit! I really really liked it—no I loved it! Everything you drew was so cool! I can't believe you drew them! Your art is really awesome!"

"You really liked it?"

He nodded, "Yeah! Hey next time do you think you could draw me? I'd love to see you draw me!"

"I'll think about it," you smiled cheekily as he looked at you with pleading eyes, "Hmm... It's getting dark already. We should probably head home."

"Oh you're right... Hey! I'll walk you home!" he beamed and trapped your hand in his own.

"N-No that's—"

"Let's go!"

You yelped as he dragged you into the street and strung you along. You weren't sure if he knew where you lived, but you just decided to follow him, because maybe the nurse had told him or something along those lines.

After hours of aimlessly wandering around, your legs began to feel numb and you were tired of being dragged around, so you spoke up, "Luffy do you know where we're going?"

"Nope," he confidently replied.

"You're kidding right?"

"Nope."

"Oh my lord," you murmured a silent prayer and stopped in your tracks, "Luffy, I really appreciate the effort, but—"

He shushes you, "Trust me!"

"No Luffy listen—"

"Y/n! I've got this!"

"Luffy we've passed my house four times already!"

"No we didn't?"

You sighed and gently tugged your hand out of his grip. You pointed to a house parallel to you and gave the most patient smile you could muster, "That's my house..."

"Oh... Well why didn't you say so?!" he chuckled and grabbed your hand again. You couldn't help but scoff and slightly smile at his airheadedness.

Once the both of you reached the front door Luffy let go of your hand.

"Oh! We're neighbors!" the brunette from before exclaimed from the second floor window of the neighboring house. He smiled brightly at the both of you and continued, "I'm Ace! That's Luffy! What's your name?!"

"She's Y/n!" Luffy yelled back, "I walked her home!"

"Luffy brought a girl home?!" a blonde had then squished his way into the window, "Luffy! Do you remember what I told you about bringing—Oh! It's you!"

He waved energetically, "I'm Sabo!"

"She's—"

"—You damn kids are too noisy!"

"Uh oh," Ace and Sabo exchanged frightened looks before closing the window and making a run for god knows where.

"Sounds like they woke gramps up," Luffy giggled, "They're in sooo much trouble now."

"You guys seem really close," you commented.

"Of course! We're brothers!"

"Really?! You guys don't look alike. At all."

Luffy hummed and placed his arms behind his head, "Not by blood anyways, we basically drank gramps's sake when we were little and swore an oath."

"Wait wait wait wait," you shook your head and chuckled, "so you guys are like an exclusive cult or something along those lines?"

"I guess?" he shrugged, "I don't really know either."

You laughed and pinched Luffy's cheek, "You're really cute... Thank you for trying to walk me home. I appreciate it."

You noticed a small blush creep up his cheeks before he sent you his signature beaming smile and a thumbs up, "No problem! Good night Y/n!"

"Good night Luffy."

As you both went your seperate ways, you couldnt help but feel more than inspired to grab a pencil and sketch.

Your hands wouldn't stop working and it seemed as though your inspiration was unending. Despite all the sketches laid out messily on your desk, the one that stood out the most was Luffy's portrait.

Maybe a muse was all it took to get out of an art block...

#one piece scenarios #one piece #luffy #op luffy #mugiwara no luffy #straw hat luffy #monkey d luffy #luffy x reader

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