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trashyreptilian · 20 days

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And here I am with one reference sheet done! Only a FUCK-ton more to go haha,,,

Reblogs are appreciated! :3

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Biography (long read):

-General Info-

Full Name: Alfred Thorn

Age: 18

Height: 6'0'' ft

Gender: Male

Sex: Male

Species: Human

Homeplace: Huntstrail, Michigan (USA)

Romantic/Sexual Orientation: Greyromantic asexual

-Other Info-

Personality?: Seemingly a nonchalant type of guy, just living his life and avoids attracting attention. Often feeling like he doesn't fit in with society or any kind of community. He's not much for showing strong emotions, not near random people at least. Typical for him to carry around an "I don't care" attitude and crack jokes during bad times, but it also serves as a means of protecting himself. Being well enough taught that showing his vulnerable side to the wrong people, can possibly be used back against him. The calm exterior hides an emotionally struggling artist, who's suffered through past childhood abuse from his own mother. Sometimes that pain rises to the surface, and accidentally shows up through unexpected mood swings or frustrated/defensive outbursts. However, Alfred knows how badly he manages his own negative emotions. This kind of heated temper shows up when heavily provoked or felt like he's backed into a corner. He may seem like a loner, yet in actuality, he's got a few close select people he cares about a lot. And depends on, more than he'd like to admit. But solely because of that, he shows a strong willingness to go far to protect them. Even if it means he might somehow risk his own life in the process. Seen in these instances, his more assertive and bold-self comes out.

Thinks Before Acting?: It's mixed with him, either does or doesn't depending on the situation. Typically, he'll try thinking over his actions and words. Especially when he can sense a bad outcome if he's not careful. Though, he's far from being the most calculated guy.

Positive Traits?: Mellow, modest, imaginative, soft-hearted, protective and audacious.

Negative Traits?: Reserved, insecure, confrontational, defensive, self-destructive and resentful.

Way Of Speaking?: Can talk in two languages, the main one is American English. Has knowledge in speaking Spanish, but it's kinda subpar. Remembers mostly from the lessons he had in school. On the odd occasion only uses it around his closest friend, Simon, who encourages him to improve. His voice is calm and soft, with no particular accent. At times, loves using a mocking or sarcastic tone. (Headcanon voice: https://youtu.be/2rHRztFGOm8?t=1)

Occupation?: Works as a stock clerk at a furniture store. Assists with unpacking delivered items, organizing the stockroom, inspecting inventory and so forth. Also, he takes overnight shifts when possible for extra cash. Of course, the entire job itself is for financial stability. Otherwise, he cares little about it. Had hoped to get into some kind of art career instead, possibly becoming a cartoonist. Sadly, he's never gotten such an opportunity as he grew up. Didn't help that he lacked complete confidence, and still does to this day. So it all remains but a little fantasy he thinks about.

Powers/Skills?: With Alfred being human, don't expect any overpowered abilities like how demons and angels have. However, in his very rare case, having a supernatural being, more precisely a simulacrum, for a parent did unexpectedly help him improve physically, and made him able to defend himself. At a younger age of sixteen, he was gifted his first weapon which was a pistol Glock 19. With help from his father, he trained in remote areas. Shooting useless items that were used as targets. Now, he's well-practiced enough in using it properly, discreetly carrying it when out at nighttime. Of course, not limited to just a pistol. He's also got a metal bat safely tucked away in his bedroom. But for as long as he's known, anything can be a weapon. In a fight, he'll manage some inventive ways to beat someone up. Not exactly a person with a strong-build, yet he makes up for it in endurance. Fairly fast when running, most likely to outrun anyone. The type of guy to pick his fights. Besides all that, survival skills. Learned a few tricks throughout all the times he's gone out camping, moderately skilled living in the wilderness. Particularly good at starting a fire. Maybe a little too good.

Hobbies?: Main hobby is drawing, pretty much remained so since he was a kid. His art style is very stylized, expressive and exaggerated. Taken inspiration from his favorite animated shows and movies. He'll usually use a regular sketchbook with a pencil and pen to draw. But he dabbles in other unique methods like graffiti, and pastel art. A more recent past time is using a camcorder. What he chooses to record is random. Can either be a quick recording of his father’s cat, or footage of activities and ramblings. For whatever reason, he just finds it relaxing. Not to mention, it's his way of better preserving memories besides taking photos. Something else he does to unwind is watching movies and TV series, or playing video games. His favorite genres are horror and thriller. On the lighter side, he loves all stuff that's animated, comedy and adventure fiction. Also, collects merchandise related to his favored media. Considers it a luxury, so he's not gung-ho about it. While these are things he typically does alone. Camping and exploring abandoned places, are done together with his dad. Since they can't hang out together in broad daylight, they always go out during the night. Their activities start regularly, but sometimes end in some sort of chaos when they get overboard. With property ending up mysteriously ruined. Just a not so subtle clue into what exactly happens on their trips.

Habits?: Often smokes and drinks. The first one is easier for him to keep controlled, the other one is an addiction. Possibly inherited from his mother's side of the family. He's aware of that, yet doesn't seem to grasp how poorly it could affect him in the future. Both substances are used when stressed or annoyed, but gravitates towards the alcohol mostly. An insomniac, his sleep schedule has been, and still is, irregular. Tends to be active out of nowhere during later hours, and taking overnight shifts doesn't help him. All coupled together, it's easy to imagine his self-care is kinda non-existent. Not to say he's lacking in it, it's out of sheer tiredness and apathy. Irritability is a rather serious tendency due to trauma, and a main fueling reason for the reliance on bad tendencies. It only worsens when experiencing a chain of obstacles, no matter if minor or severe. There's no clear pattern as he can seem fine in the moment, yet takes but one nudge to tip him off the edge. Resulting in sudden outbursts, causing to shut himself off from others.

Relationships? (Simplified): Alfred's dad has remained an integral part of his life. Who in fact, happens to be a simulacrum from Hell, named Him. It's been the only figure he's ever looked up to and known as family. Same demon was originally supposed to replace his actual biological father. In a rather malicious, literal sense. That never happened, as the target left his family behind during the early years of Alfred's childhood before anything transpired. Then living with an abusive mother got him in a worse vulnerable state. So getting attached to something inhuman, but caring, shouldn't be surprising. Their steady bond continued while no one else had a clue on any of it. Entering his young teenage years, Alfred was unphased about his own father figure not being exactly human, once Him revealed so. Despite the few times he had to see or hear it lashing out onto other members of its own species, he never seemed disturbed by its more violent actions. Him's raw wrathful nature is no secret, for sure. He looks past as it being over-protective since so far, he's only seen it attack out of defense for the both of them. Many times he has wished to be as reliable, strength-wise. Since Him's the only father, best friend, and role-model he's ever had, he holds it up in high regard. Alfred would go to Hell and back for it. But the relationship is far from perfect, both struggle a lot with communication. Opening up emotionally is hard especially. For Him, it's worse. As they say: like father, like son. They stay silent about their relationship, for safety's sake and to avoid unwanted attention. Nowadays, they live together in a little run-down apartment. Finally secure, in a place they can call home.

Interacting with a simulacrum for nearly his whole childhood didn't make Alfred the most extroverted person. After frequently having trouble socializing, he gave up trying to befriend people his age. At some point, he simply preferred hanging about on his own. However, one person managed to start a friendship with him, Simon Belrose. A new student that had joined the same high-school, and class, as Alfred. They were both young teens, around the same age, when they first met. His outgoing and amicable personality had Alfred spooked, he reasonably assumed that he'd be left alone by him. Having not much thought about the new guy, becoming friends with him was even less on his mind. Up until they both had an interaction, in which Simon had shown genuine interest in his art. While the compliments were validating for Alfred, he was wary of the other anyway. Took a bit to get acquainted properly. Over the years, they've grown a lot closer as friends. But Alfred still remains secretive on a lot of stuff happening in his personal life. Usually for understandable reasons, yet Simon would appreciate it if they were more open with one another. Nonetheless, they get along pretty great. Both admire certain qualities the other has, that of which they don't themselves. They enjoy pissing each other off until someone breaks first. Random screaming matches over absolutely nothing happen frequently. And their silly scuffles always get hectic.

Moving back onto otherworldly beings. Due to Alfred's long bond with a simulacrum, a certain figure grew interested in finding out more about the two. One way or the other. After a major event, involved with a rather unpleasant (putting it lightly) "person". A series of unusual circumstances followed suit for Alfred. Which all led to meeting a theraangel, called Xanthan. When their first proper interaction happened, there was nerve-wracking tension. He wasn't sure what to make of them, or what the angel's true intentions were. Heavy convincing was needed to earn Alfred's trust. To his own surprise, a mutual respect developed as they bonded over certain grievances each had. Later on a different date, Xanthan becomes his guardian angel. Part of a deal made with his father, Him. Solely due to this guardianship, they find more things in common. Eventually gaining a deeper understanding of each other. Their shared connection with art helps them be more open and start an eventual friendship. Alfred slowly views them as a sort of mentor. Maybe even as another father figure. Seeing how he appreciated Xanthan's longer living experience, once he felt comfortable he'd seek out advice from Xan alone on the rare occasion. Very few people manage to break down all the high sturdy walls that angel puts up, Alfred managed to be one of those people. He proved to be pretty insistent in making that guy a close part of his life.

Speaking of enemies, there's no one in particular who really fits in with this definition for Alfred. Besides perhaps some bitter students from his high-school that he got into fights with, or his mother and sister he has distanced himself away from. Still none of them fit such a defining strong label as "enemy". As he just wants to forget about these people entirely. Yet, that doesn't mean he won't make adversaries in the future.

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General rules for all of my FCs and OCs:

-While I'm fine with getting inspired by my work, please do not just steal the designs. -I am uncomfortable with my characters being unknowingly shipped with other people's characters. -Fanart is all well, great and welcomed! As long as it isn't sexual. I'm fine with gore but please, keep my characters away from your own sexual material.

#oh the sweet relief of just having to design characters however the hell I want #truly a liberating feeling to work with my own shit now heh #replica hysteria #alfred thorn #original characters #original project #my art #my reference sheets

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ye-olde-sodor · 17 days

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DC Au Thomas!

Thomas is an LB&SCR E2 Class locomotive, more specifically a Second Series E2 with the extended side tanks.

He was built in June of 1915, making him one of the oldest engines on Sodor! Contrary to popular belief, however, Thomas was not the first engine on Sodor. Instead, he only inherited the number after the first No 1 disappeared.

Thomas had a rough time growing up. He was taught by his older brothers not to trust the larger engines. Due to this, a younger Thomas was quite aggressive towards a younger Edward and a few other larger engines. While he grew out of this "emo phase", he still took many of his brothers lessons to heart.

Current day Thomas is a happy-go-lucky and sometimes hot headed engine, but he always means well….usually. He's cheerful, but he’s also the strong assertive type, and isn't afraid to speak up against mean engines. He can be quite cheeky too, but with his old age, he doesn't show it as much as he used to.

He loves a good challenge, but due to how bold and he can be, he's quite reckless. He also has a hard time admitting he made a mistake or did something wrong whenever one of his plans goes awry.

Thomas isn’t very good at listening to people. Especially to those in charge. The only people he does listen to is the Hatt family…but he doesn’t always listen to Sir Topham Hatt.

Like with many engines on Sodor, he despises the idea of a hierarchy. He believes that it paves the way for larger engines to order around smaller engines and put them in harms way. Even though he's a Preserved engine, he'd be more then happy to get rid of his "privilege" if it means keeping whatever steam engines remain across the world safe.

Thomas would kill to have a dock or harbor near his branch line. He loves the sea breeze and the sounds or the waves crashing up against the land. It reminds him of the Docks of Brighton Railway.

Thomas is one of the few engines who doesn’t mind eating thanks to his driver. His favorites are beef jerky and salt (yes he eats salt, don’t judge him) Just don’t tell any of the other engines that he likes to eat things…

Thomas was surprised when Stepney turned out to be one of his cousins. While the two aren't particularly close, both take pride in being relatives, and have even gained a peace of mind knowing that not all of their relatives were scrapped.

Thomas can be quite flirt when he wants to be, although no one but a few engines would know about it.

He can get super jealous whenever a new engine rolls in. This is partially due to how his brother raised him but also partially because he’s afraid of being replaced despite being the islands mascot…but then again, humans love replacing things they claim to adore so how can he be so sure he's safe from scrap?

He has some very mixed feelings towards Ryan. First and foremost he’s angry that he has to listen to him. He's jealous because Ryan has had the high life since he was built. He also finds Ryan attractive but would never, under any circumstances, admit he's in love like a normal engine.

He has a nasty habit of getting sick if he's swapped to a coal he isn't used to burning. There've been many attempts to switch the engines of Sodor to a better coal, but poor Thomas just wasn't compatible with any of them! Mallard will learn this the hard way soon enough...

Ultimately can be described with one word. Feral.

Quotes:

Thomas: *screaming*

Ryan: *screams louder*

Scott: "Shouldn't we interveine?"

Gordon: "No no, I want to see who wins."

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Percy: "Why on earth would you want to use the jet engine again?!"

Thomas: "Because you can't make the same mistake twice! I heard those scientists finally nailed the tech down, so now I can-"

Percy: "Completely ignore them and carry on with your life?!"

Thomas: 'You're no fun :("

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Percy: "Oh blimey you look awful! Moreso than usual!"

Thomas, who's taken on bad coal: "Gee, thanks."

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Thomas: "I'm half tempted to make a break for Sodor...maybe I'll get lucky!"

Driver: "Or maybe you'll get us all killed!"

Thomas: "Death is better than "Campfire Night", Keith. If I hear one more song about the wonders of British colonialism and living by the social norm, I just might keel over."

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Thomas: "James, I know you're scared, but you have to trust me."

James: "You're already asking too much out of me, but go on."

Thomas: "I need you to bail Edward out of Darlington."

James: "WHAT-"

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Ryan: "Now why can't you be this sweet all the time?"

Thomas: "If I was, I wouldn't be half as interesting!”

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Henry: "If you rush across the viaduct, it'll collapse, and you won't have any passengers or train! What would you do then?!"

Thomas: "Run my train on time."

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Edward: "Oh, that bloody Spamcan is here!"

Gordon: "Quick Thomas, do the thing!"

Thomas: "I don't think growling at him is going to send him away...But I'd be damned if I didn't try it!"

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Diesel: "We need a distraction."

Thomas: "Great idea! Diesel, you roll out and show 'em your ugly mug while I go grab Percy!"

#ttte #ttte thomas #ttte au #ttte dc au

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dimepdf · 2 years

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𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐒, 𝐌𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐒, 𝐀𝐏𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐘𝐏𝐒𝐄. + 𝐄𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐍

masterlist. / taglist. / any request? synopsis. who knew that when you befriended the braced faced little kid from your DND club would lead to this.

pairing. eddie munson x reader

word count. 4.4k

genre and warnings. male reader, friends to lovers, mutual pinning, bed sharing, not a fix it fic, hurt no comfort, anxiety, follows ep eight, Nancy “pull tf up” wheeler, show canon, fluffly | — so sorry that this is so late, don't forget to reblog 🤍

Being gay in a small town was hard.

Of course, you weren't openly homosexual, knowing that even coming out to your parents in the small town was just asking for another target on your back.

Ever since you had hit your teenage years, your sexuality had just become something clear to you, but obviously not to others, including your best friend, Eddie Munson.

You had known Eddie since the early days of middle school. Growing up on the other side of the tracks, not many neighbors in the trailer park homes would surprisingly have children around the same age as you.

Usually young mothers with toddlers or older-looking teenagers fighting their parents at night, you felt like an outsider even in your own home until Eddie and Wayne came along.

At first, you didn't think much of the new family pulling in, just another troubled man with a child he had no business raising.

That's how you saw the Munsons from the first impression, even at a young age.

The shaved head and dark clothes gave you the impression that Eddie would no doubt give lip to his older guardian, including the times you would hear whispers about him in the small middle school about Eddie parading his loudmouth beliefs and class foolery that would always end with him in detention.

It would be a lie to say that you didn't at least find him interesting.

A small part of you was smitten with the confidence that he carried himself, his bold personality, and even a bolder sense of clothing choice.

You never had enough interest in him to speak to him, going nearly a year without interacting with each other until the night you heard your parents arguing outside the RV.

The back and forth between the two was common, both raging alcoholics that carried their tempers while drunk.

Both screamed their heads off to get their point across about how they felt mistreated.

You were just a child having to listen to the constant back and forth unfold right in front of your face.

Balled up with your knees pushed against your chest as you clutched onto your pillow, pressing it against your ears so hard that you could feel your fist through the flattened cotton as you tried to stay as quiet as possible.

It was an impossible attempt with the stutter of your breath from crying.

The argument heated up, with someone punching against the RV.

The loud bang of their hand against the metal scared you enough to crawl on your knees to peek out of the window.

Drawing apart the curtains with your small fingers, watching just as your mother pointed her long nail into your father's chest, whatever they were yelling about, you couldn't quite follow along with the sound of your heart beating against your chest louder in compression of volume.

You did see your mother pull back her hand, your eyes widening as the loud smack followed. The final screw on the dam finally let loose as they began to throw punches at each other.

You didn't think, you never did almost become numb to the experience, almost as if it was muscle memory admitting to your parents to calm down, begging them to just get back inside and go to bed.

It was like a tiring cycle until that moment you got caught in the crossfire.

Stepping in between the two adults trying to push each other apart, you never expected to get your shiner.

Your father's fist going rogue instead of making contact with your face, the clear hard contact was enough to knock you on your ass, luckily not bouncing off the concrete but instead falling face first into the side of the RV with a loud thunk.

You couldn't remember much from that night, just bits and pieces of being pulled into Wayne’s arms, the older man berating your parents and threatening to call the cops, your mother crying at the sight of you, and you crying yourself to sleep as Eddie sat beside you on the floor that night on their couch.

Your eye was bruised quickly. The sting every time you would reach to rub away your tears always caught you off guard.

Eddie couldn’t help but steal glances at you, still half asleep after Wayne had barged into the home, waking him up from his sleep and ordering him to keep an eye on you as he went back outside to give the police his statement.

At the time, Eddie wasn’t much of a comforting child, just a scrawny bald twelve-year-old with deep brown eyes and an awkward smile.

"Do you like Metallica?" The question was stale over the depressing sounds of your sniffling, the red and blue lights leaking from the closed curtains not finding much silence from the thin walls.

Your shoulders shrugged in response to not seeing him knee crawl to his cassette player, grabbing a tape from his bookshelf before settling beside you on the couch.

There was a shift in the mood as he popped in the tape, a song lulling from the speakers loud enough to drown out all the commotion outside.

The small moment was the start of the odd feelings you had towards Eddie Munson.

"Coming on ___, you love English. I know these grades aren't normal for you." Ms. Kelley was the only staff member that you’d admit in secret to being your favorite.

The young counselor had been seeing you since freshman year until your last.

It was expected of her to know you better than you had even known yourself. But what made her job a little bit harder was your emotional trauma.

You weren't a very talkative person, more on the skittish side compared to your friends. You weren't shy, just the type that found more efficiency in shorter replies.

"Sorry." like it was automatic.

The apology slipped from your lips, your eyes dancing around the room as your elbow perched against the armstand was a perfect place to rest your chin against.

"How is everything going at home?" The dreaded question that felt like ice against your skin, your eyes finally flickering to the older woman who only stared back in pure concern.

You hated the look of pity, fidgeting under it as she failed to comfort you like everyone else.

"It's fine." You were a compulsive liar. The truth was that everything had gone to shit again.

Your parents saw you as easy prey, the two predators, realizing that they would have a better chance of taking their anger out on you than each other, but you were smarter.

It had been a full week since you and Eddie had officially moved in together.

The tiny home only had one bedroom and a bathroom but was enough space to cram all of his rock posters and your music collection into, plus you two had no problem sharing a bed together, as you had been doing since you were kids.

The place always smelled like weed and stale corn chips, but any place away from your parents felt like a safe haven to you.

"Okay, how about sleeping?" You sighed, your gaze drawn away once more, your attention drawn to the posters behind her eyes rather than the actual conversation.

You weren’t always a troubled sleeper, the nightmares coming so suddenly that you hadn't even remembered when they had started.

It didn't help that most of your recent nights were spent next to Eddie, the brunette, turning into a snoring, slobbering mess the moment his head had hit the pillow, leaving you staring up at the ceiling trying to use music to lull the sudden anxiety you felt in your chest and the striking pain you got in your head.

"So the medication is working just fine, no nightmares, headaches, nothing?" You shake your head, despite having the same dream of Eddie over and over again.

Nothing but fear beats from your heart as your eyes flutter shut, surrounded by darkness and thundering red lighting so bright it makes you wince, forced to look down at Eddie resting limply at your legs, his eyes soulless and completely devoid of any traces of life as his body looked torn apart and ruined, as if a breast had torn him apart.

You hated the dream, along with the pit feeling in your chest every time you woke up next to him snoring softly.

You wanted your senior year to be comfortable and calm, wanted to just float through your classes until you could finally graduate and skip town with your best friend by your side, and then maybe you would feel comfortable enough to be yourself, to finally confess that one unspoken thing.

But alas, freshmen always had to fuck up something.

When you welcomed Mike, Dustin, and Lucas into the DND club that you and Eddie were co-presidents of, you never expected to be wrapped into the whole "the world is ending and we’re only kids" gang. Being thrown around, beaten up, and covered in filth was the last thing that you expected to come from your weekend of tagging along with Dustin.

The last couple of days were completely chaos-filled; your best friend being accused of murder; putting your life in danger with a group of people who you haven't even met before; having your ass handed to you on a silver platter by Jason, hiding out with Eddie in your dealer's old boat shack, and the entire town thinking you were some leader of a secret cultist murdering origination all because you liked to play DND.

But at least you were alive, or at least parts of you were, still unable to wrap your head around the whole supernatural being trying to invade your mind and kill off traumatized teenagers like you.

"Check this out, the War Zone," Eddie spoke to everyone that rapped around the table: Nancy, Dustin, Steve, him, you, Robin, Erica, Max, and Lucas, all standing shoulder to shoulder to get sight of the old phonebook that Eddie slammed open against the table.

"I’ve been there once. It's huge. They've got everything you need for, well, uh, killing things, basically." As Eddie explained, you could recall a faint memory of your own father bringing up the weapon stores contained.

Since the town of Hawkins was just so small and wrapped in thick miles of woods, it was sort of expected for some people to take up hunting. You weren’t much of a gun-nut, but your father was.

"You think fake Rambo has enough guns there? Is that a grenade? " Robin dryly spoke. "I mean, how is any of this legal?"

"Well, lucky for it is so. This place is just far enough outside of Hawkins that as long as we steer clear of main roads, we ought to be able to avoid cops and angry hicks." Eddie’s eyes would flicker towards you every once in a while as he spoke, his gaze showing clear nervousness.

Which you could only assume from the fact that you were both now wanted for murder, but also because he felt like it was all his fault that you were practically roped into all of this in the first place.

You could only name a couple of people by their actual names.

Even if you tried your hardest, it had only been a few days since you had been introduced to Dustin’s group of friends, let alone been welcomed to the new evil dimension full of flesh-eating monsters that led to you having a pulsing claw mark scabbing across your bicep.

"If we’re trying to avoid angry hicks, maybe we shouldn’t go to some store called the War Zone." Erica was the most sarcastic, sharp-tongued middle schooler you’d ever met.

An unspoken alias since her introduction to the Hellfire Club, you were the first person to agree to Erica subbing for Lucas.

"Normally, I’d agree, but we need the weapons, so I think it’s worth the risk." Nancy Wheeler was the wildcard of all wildcards that you never expected to be in the same situation with.

Maybe it was because you grew up slightly envious of her seemingly perfect cookie-cutter suburban lifestyle, the few days after knowing it was clear that the perfect Barbie image you always envisioned was anything close to the layers of truth Nancy had tucked away from the public eye.

If you've been taught anything from the short amount of time of your life being flipped upside down, it was that you could never expect the unexpected.

"Me too." Lucas agreed, him and Dustin being the only people you were on a first-name basis with before any of this started.

"Yea, but is it worth the time? It’ll take all day to bike there and back." Dustin input

"Who said we were biking?" Your interruption now had all eyes on you as you stood up straight, your arms crossing over your chest as an idea instantly formed in your mind, almost like a lightbulb had just clicked in your eyes.

"What, you got some sort of car we don’t know about?" Steve asked as Eddie seemed to instantly catch on to your sudden plan.

"It's not exactly a car, Steve." A small smirk stretched slowly from his lips as he was quick to back you up.

"And it’s not exactly mine, but I think I have some sort of say on if we can use it." Like you two were locked in, you shared a knowing look with Eddie. You could already see the gears and bolts turning in his head trying to figure something out for you.

"Hey, Red," Eddie’s body turned away from you to speak to Max. "You got a ski mask or a bandanna, something like that?" Max’s head tilted in thought as she thought of something. Her brow quirked.

The Michael Myers fit around Eddie’s face comically, as you tied the black bandana snuggly across your face.

The disguises were the best that you could do on short notice as Eddie took place in the front, leading the group through the corners and crevasses of the trailer park, sneaking to the other side of your parent's RV trailer, crouching down on his knee to help you be the first to climb in through the window and inside the motor home.

You were quick on your feet, shuffling to the front and locking the door as everyone rushed in. Plunging into the driver's seat, your eyes searched the dash panically, your eyes tracing over the compartment before groaning.

"No keys?" Eddie sighed, his head ducking down low, inches away from your face.

"It’s okay, shouldn’t be much of a problem, not for us anyways." You revealed the set of pliers you grabbed from the dash.

The male nodding almost proudly at you as you two switched positions, Eddie ducking down to grab the tangle of wires under the wheel.

"Where’d you learn to do this?" Steve asked, leaning in over Eddie’s shoulder.

You couldn’t help but peek your head up from the front window, watching your parents lounge in their lawn chairs outside.

You weren't necessarily on good terms with your parents.

Being raised by only your father for most of your life, it was a bit of an odd relationship that formed with your mother the moment she decided that she wanted you back into her life.

The drastic change of having someone else in your home was enough to drive you completely up the wall. Your family was cracking from the inside from the amount of untalked about trauma and issues feasting within the walls.

"Oh shit," you muttered as you retreated out of sight, watching your parents stumble from their chairs and bang on the front door.

Everyone panicked as they scrambled around in the RV, shouting at Steve to start the truck. You peeked out the back window as the vehicle pushed forward, watching your parents' reflection get smaller and smaller as Steve drove away.

“Dude, I am so grounded when we get back….”

The drive out of town and to War Zone allowed you to finally slow down, think, and feel the sound of the road lulling your eyes to close.

resting with your arms crossed and your head leaning against the back wall of the driver's seat. Eddie had scooted himself closer to you, his head resting against your shoulder in a slightly teasing manner.

"What are you thinking about?" Your lips pressed together in acknowledgement, your thoughts quieter than they'd been in a long time, too busy fending for your life to have any inner dialogue to keep your brain going.

"I don't know just how weird everything is." You spoke softly. I’m just scared, I guess. Truthfully, I never expected to spend my weekend killing dema-whatever with Hawkins finest, Nancy Wheeler."

Eddie chuckled, hesitating before letting his fingers interlock with yours. Whatever you two had going on had seemed to move to the next step.

It was clear that he had something on his mind. The entire drive you noticed his eyes dancing around, one moment to just focus back on you. "Maybe you could write about all of this when we’re out, turn into a badass rich author and make us all famous."

"Yeah, and I'll call it: freaks and aliens."

★ . . . !

There wasn’t a class or any book guides in school that taught you how to make the best defensive weapons.

Yet the group of kids managed to handle their own, grabbing at scraps left around the RV and things bought from the store to build the best of what they had to use, which included the trash lids you were hammering nails into.

"How’s she feeling?" Dustin asked, glancing up at him swinging the makeshift shield about, practicing some blocks as he lifted the metal.

"Light but durable, deadly but reliable."

"And very badass." You added, still hammering your finishing nails into the shield, as you chuckled alongside Dustin.

"Hear me now," Eddie said, crouching down in front of you to catch your gaze as his fingers hooked under your chin and lifted your head, forcing your full attention on him.

"There will be no more retreating from ___ and Eddie the banished." Dustin couldn't help but look at you two in true admiration.

He didn't have to figure anything out, simply knowing that the look in Eddie’s eyes was something similar to how he would look at Suzie. He was happy that you two were comfortable enough to be that comfortable around him.

"Hey, you're really ready for bat-tle." he chortled, settling once he had noticed your bored expression and Eddie’s dumb blank look of confusion.

"Aw man, I thought that was a good one," he muttered before Eddie could almost shove Dustin to the ground, the two wrestling childishly behind you as you continued the finishing touches to your tin can shield.

"Okay, I want to run through it one more time."

The RV had a stale stance that you had already used to, as old food reeked from the cheap metal fridge mixed with the gross must that fumed from the seat cushions you had sat against.

You were layered in thick, mismatched articles of clothing, grabbing anything that you could afford at the armory store to protect yourself with, patterns clashing and fabrics rubbing roughly against your skin.

You opted to not pout much about it, opting that the tight makeshift bandage on your arm that Eddie had to hold you down to finish was better than bleeding out.

Along with the splinter that stuck itself in the bud of your finger from the amateur-crafted spare Eddie tossed at you.

"Phase one," Nancy called out, the RV thick with a serious atmosphere, the teenagers that sat around understanding the stern seriousness of their fate if even a thing had fallen out of place from their constructed plan.

"We meet Erica at the playground," Robin gasped. "She’ll signal Max and Lucas when we’re ready." Nancy nodded along, going over the plan in her head as Robin spoke.

"Phase two." Nancy's voice held a new sense of courage and authority; she was no longer the preppy high schooler that cared about her school grades.

The older Wheeler child was more concerned with avenging her best friends, saving Hawkins for good, and simply getting all of this apocalypse nonsense over with so she could kick her way to a fresh start at college.

"Max baits Vecna. He’ll go after her, which’ll put him in his trance." Steve Harrington, though he had his fair share of bites and bruises.

"Phase three."

"Me, Dustin, and Eddie are on bat duty. Draw 'em out." You answered efficiently, welcoming Eddie’s touch as his fingers hooked around your belt loop and tugged you closer to him.

You understood Eddie’s love language being touch, the many times he would cuddle next to you in bed despite there being a pillow wall separating you two.

Nobody moves onto the next phase until we’ve all copied. Nobody deviates from the plan no matter what. Got it? "

We all agreed, including you grabbing your spear and heading towards your and Eddie’s home.

Steve was the first to climb the rope into the portal that gaped open from your ceiling into the upside-down dimension. Following everyone else and their weapons, being back in the place of nightmares sends a chill up your spine.

"Hey guys," Steve says, as he turns to face the three of you. "If things go south, you abort. Draw the attention of the bats, keep busy, and we'll take care of Vecna. Don't try to be cute or a hero or something." Although the comment was supposed to be comforting, you felt small and slightly insulted.

"Steve, we get it. You're the hero. We're not." You were sarcastically defeated with a hesitant fist bump from the brunette, the look in his eye saying that it wasn't with any ill-intent but you hadn’t given him enough time to respond before Eddie could add.

"Steve, make him pay.”

★ . . . !

Everything had been smooth sailing, distracting the bats with the badass bass duo of your favorite song from the rock band that had brought you and Eddie together.

You don't know how it all went wrong so quickly, how the plan had unraveled with one loose thread being tugged and tugged, until you had gotten to this very moment trapped in the RV with Dustin and Eddie as the bats hoarded outside, forcing themselves inside slowly.

You don't know where the idea came from; it was like you had acted on impulse once more. The familiar feeling of being trapped like prey being hunted just didn't sit right with you anymore.

You were tired of constantly having someone else fight your battles; you were tired of being hunted.

Using your spear to cut the rope, the moment that Eddie and Dustin were safe on the other side, you picked yourself back up and geared yourself despite their yells of protest, "___, what are you doing?"

"I don't know, but it just feels right."

Using your uninjured shoulder, slam against the front door and run as fast as your legs will allow.

Adrenaline coursing through your veins as you hopped on a bike and pedaled through the upside down, you got as far as you could before being thrown off the bike.

You pointed your shield in the air, swiping at the bats as some of them managed to bite at you, landing hard but not hard enough to knock you off your feet. The burning feeling of your own flesh tearing from your body was more than unbearable.

You just had to hold out.

Your spear was whipped out of your hand, and you only had your shield to defend yourself.

You just had to hold out.

You couldn't hear Eddie or Dustin shouting your name over the swarm clawing at you. Your shield quickly grew pointless the moment that a tail wrapped around your neck, tugging you off your feet.

You just had to hold out.

The dema-bats had quickly gotten the upper hand, tugging tightly on your limbs as they held you down, the others taking advantage of your bound state and ripping into your exposed skin, wailing out in pain as you were starting to get eaten alive.

"___? Get up, please just get up." Eddie rushed towards you, stepping over the pile of dead dema-bats that circled around your limp body.

He had quickly fallen to his knees beside you, pulling your head down against his chest as you struggled against the puddling copper taste of your own blood pool in your mouth.

Everything hurt, yet you felt so numb at the same time.

"Ed’s just, just let me catch my breath," you struggled, a sharp pain shooting from every direction of your body it hurt to think about moving around.

You only had enough strength to look up at Eddie, forcing a painful smile on your lips.

"No more running away, okay." Eddie nodded his head as he choked on his tears, hugging you closer to him, your hand reaching out towards the general direction of Dustin, making him scoot closer so he was in sight of your blurred vision.

"You're going to have to take care of this smart ass for me, Henderson." Dustin agreed, sorrow swallowing his features as he clung to your hand.

"I can't do this without you ___, I–I love you."

Your mouth opened, wishing to respond back. Your arm pushes against that burning sensation as you lift your fingers to caress his face slowly before your vision dims.

★ . . . !

Eddie knew that his presence wasn’t wanted at the shelter; the survivors of the massive earthquake that left the town in shambles being enough commotion to have his reputation as the town's number one murder suspect pushed aside, mostly because where the police station had stood was now a sinkhole covered in paranormal goo and tentacles.

He was packing all of his things in boxes, his heart skipping a beat every time he would come in contact with your things.

The Metallica cassette tape was being played and reminded him of the moment he had gotten home safe like it was a broken record stuck on a loop.

He hated clearing out the living room that you two shared, having to pick up the objects that had reminded him of you around the home.

His feet halted at the sight of something buried away under the pile of clothes you would throw against the corner as the laundry pile.

A binder clasped together with pages of scribbles, the first page titled Eddie the Dragon in the big bold handwriting he recognized as yours.

🔖 @prettyeyedmaureen @hornyavengers @blkroyalty1 @1shyshy1sana @harrycanyonmoonn @freyawhitexxx1 @bucky-daddy-barnes @eldriidd @ycarlii @guitarromantic @lafresamilk @haechaniebom @biggestslutever-1stnamegrea-blog @eddiesbitchx @stitched-mouth @misaamaneswifey @kiszkathecook @imahoforthings @kyyellaxi @hotgirlsshareaccounts @thegirlbeyondtheuniverse @cybergnf @notbeforelong @snailchess @joletown @killjoys-n-whovians @livvie-jpg @mocswift @coldspoons @ragingginger24 @milkiane @ordelixx @alexloveskili @inglourious-imagines @gamegirl1996 @angelsarecallin @cellywatt @delishtequila @shawtywithcash @yazmunson @actual-mom-steve-harrington @tsukishimawhore @corey-is-a-huge-simp @jaydesworld96 @foffaaa @jackierose902109 @disaster-rose @migirl323

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#[ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ ★ — t.wrks. ]#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader blurb #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic

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scngbxrds · 7 months

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freya allan, cis woman, she/her, 22 — dear all nations, BIRNA RAGNARSDATTER has crossed the city borders to edinburgh to the sound of BEYOND THE BURNING SKIES by BATTLE BEAST. the YOUNGEST DAUGHTER OF RAGNAR of CLAN OF RAGNAR ESKILSEN is known to be IN FAVOR OF making peace. SHE reminds me of SCRAPED KNEES AND BRUISED KNUCKLES ; SPARKS FROM THE FIRE DANCING IN THE AIR. however did you know that SHE IS PETRIFIED OF BEING MARRIED OFF BY HER FATHER FOR A POLITICAL ALLIANCE?

basics

name: birna ragnarsdatter ( little bear by her father ) age: 22 nation: clan of ragnar eskilsen status: single gender: cis woman sexuality: rare moments of interest with any gender but does have a preference for women fc: freya allan

physical

height: 5'4 hair: very light blonde eyes: green scars: a handful of small ones from roughhousing tattoos: none piercings: none

personality

likes: sparring/wrestling with her brothers, hunting, forests, being at sea, when her father tells her stories dislikes: the stench of edinburgh, proposals, being underestimated, being away from their homeland it can be said that birna is often difficult to get along with. from being too blunt to being too aggressive, the youngest of ragnar's children is very much an acquired taste. often feeling as if she has to prove herself, birna is too bold for her own good, often taking on challenges she shouldn't. she's quick to mock and tease, often not knowing when to draw the line. sometimes, it can take birna nearly losing a friendship to realize she pushed things too far. though prideful, she has learned to admit when she's wrong and can form the occasional apology.

summary

birna, or little bear as she's so often called by her father, lives up to her name. though small in stature, she carries herself as if she were seven feet tall. prone to solving problems with violence, birna is finding it hard to settling peacefully into scotland. however, knowing how important it is to her father to keep them all safe, the youngest of ragnar's children is doing her best to keep hope that peace will come one day--even if it means she doesn't get to sock a few people in the face. being the youngest is something she uses to her advantage, often finding it easier to try and get out of trouble with her father. with one brother arranged to marry the scottish princess, and another brother in a seemingly loveless marriage, birna's stomach churns at the thought that she will somehow be brought into the game, with her hand in marriage being used to secure some alliance. to put it simply, she's rough around the edges, willful, and stubborn as all hell.

#nomad.intro #intro:birna

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hollowayhqs · 9 months

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Character information

Name: Thomasin 'Tammi' Belmond

Age: 29

Gender: Cis woman

Pronouns: she/her

Species: Werewolf

Face claim: Halston Sage

Character Occupation: Personal trainer/ gymnast/ gymnastics teacher

Neighbourhood of residence: The Lookout

Affiliation: Holloway Pack

Length of stay in Holloway: All her life

Character summary:

Thomasin affectionately known as Tammi, grew up in Holloway and it's the only life she's known. She was abandoned as a baby and taken in by the pack. Most of her childhood was spent with an older lady who said she was close to her mother, though as she grew, she spent time in group house with other young wolves.

Growing up as a werewolf, life was always simple. Tammi knew who she was and she knew that one day she’d be a wolf like her mother and father. When she was fifteen, she would often look after the other wolf children during a full moon. She was responsible, she knew everyone in the community she'd grown up in and she would always be asked to do things by older members of the pack.

In her later teens, she was tasked with keeping the younger wolves save and secure on the full moon. Unfortunately... she did not leave herself enough time to tie herself up and she could feel herself starting to turn. Thankfully she managed to leave the house before she turned. The children were frightened, but unharmed. Tammi on the other hand did not make it to a secure place and was attacked by confused humans. She was scared, confused and backed into a corner... so her wolf lashed out. She killed three men that had been camping that night. It’s something she will never let go of and something she carries with her every day.

Tammi really struggled with her guilt and pain more than she showed and she dropped out of school at 17 after getting a job a the local gym. She’s been there ever since. She's an energetic and athletic person and she doesn't hate it. She knows a lot of the guys from the pack and those that she doesn’t know, she makes quick friends with. It’s just a job. It pays the bills and Tammi isn’t looking for anything else. She has her friends, she has her pack. She doesn’t need to over complicate her life.

Since she was a child Tammi competed in local gymnastic competitions. It helped with the extra energy she had as a wolf and she was a natural. Though she wouldn't exactly admit to the judges the advantage she had from being a werewolf. She was told it was her mother's passion and Tammi became obsessed with it, wanting to feel close to her. She loved the attention and even now, she loves the sparkling dresses and the routines. She practises a lot in her spare time even if she is getting older now. She teaches a gymnastics class on a Saturday afternoon and a dream would be to make that a full time career. She's just not sure how to get there.

Some might describe Tammi as a little audacious. She’s bold and ahe can be considered unpredictable, her past not helping her emotions. She has never fully let go of that guilt or forgiven herself. Although after what happened in her early teens, she has a need to be safe and secure. This is something she longs for in Holloway.

In her early twenties, she found out that her parents did not abandon her, they had gone out on a full moon and never returned. Not many in the pack talk about their disappearance but it has always been in the back of her mind. And with recent events in town... she wonders if this has happened before.

#supernatural rp #spn rp #town rp #small town rp #plot based rp #plot driven rp #oc rp #mature rp #literature rp #appless rp #skeleton rp #tammi

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diamantent · 3 months

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I have so much to write out about this and I'll start here — despite the bold and sure-minded way Seki presents himself, he's got a lot to work on when it comes to being a leader. He'll freely admit that — it's not a secret.

What he doesn't discuss about that mindset is a bit more personal. See, the title of clan leader isn't passed down from parent to child, but it just happened to wind up that way in his experience. He was raised in that way where his parents put him on a bit of a pedestal because he was quick to befriend a pokemon ( his eventual leafeon ) and he had a natural leadership among the kids his age. It also helps that he's so wholeheartedly outspoken about his belief in mighty Sinnoh.

That pedestal carried on to the others in the clan, and he was encouraged time and time again to take the position. He leaned into it, finding it a satisfying idea to one day be leader. When he was ready for it, of course.

He lost both of his parents in the same incident ( which also left him with the scars he carries to this day ) and the title was just thrown onto him immediately after. The Diamond Clan needed a leader. They needed someone with the experience and the personal connection to the two they'd just lost — and who better than the son who was told he was meant for it from the start?

The rest of the clan knows. They know not to bring it up too much. Now and then he'll get an assurance that they'd be proud of him, but discussing the events with anyone from the Galaxy Corps, from Jubilife, and Sinnoh forbid from the Pearl Clan — out of the picture. You've got to get to know him before he'll talk about that.

#✧ headcanon.#parent death tw #unsure if anyone will need that tagged! but just to be safe.#and btw it's not like he had the *perfect* relationship or view of his parents #that's another post i need to make #anyway. still ironing things out for him!#and i'm just to iscan and palina in my replay so!

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strongerthan90strendx · 3 months

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WELCOME TO HEXMORE, SOPH (32/GMT). HEXMORE WAS FOUNDED BY WITCHES, BUT IS NOW HOME TO, TAMMI BELMOND (HALSTON SAGE). SHE/HER IS a 30 YEAR OLD WEREWOLF. BORN IN HEXMORE, ILLINOIS. THEY HAVE RESIDED IN HEXMORE FOR ALL THEIR LIFE, WHERE THEY WORK AS A PERSONAL TRAINER AND GYMNASTICS TEACHER AT THE LOCAL GYM. THEY CONSIDER THEMSELVES TO BE AFFILIATED WITH THE MACHLACHLAN PACK AND THE DISAPPEARANCE OF HAZEL MORA HAS LEFT THEM WORRIED FOR THE SAFETY OF HER OWN FAMILY.

Name: Thomasin ‘Tammi’ Belmond

Age: 30

Gender: Cis woman

Pronouns: she/her

Species: Werewolf

Face claim: Halston Sage

Character Occupation: Personal trainer / gymnastics teacher

Affiliation: Machlachlan Pack

Length of stay in Hexmore: All her life

Thomasin affectionately known as Tammi, grew up in Hexmore and it’s the only life she’s known. Her family has resided in the small town for centuries and are longstanding members of the Machlachlan Pack. She is the youngest of three siblings and most of her childhood was spent with her older brother and sister. Though as she grew, so did her rebellion and she spent time in group house with other young wolves.

Growing up as a werewolf in Hexmore, life always made sense. Her parents worked hard and they were well respected in Hexmore and the pack. Tammi knew who she was, she knew that one day she’d be a strong wolf like her mother and father. When she was fifteen, she would often look after the other wolf children during a full moon. She was trained well and responsible, she knew everyone in the community she’d grown up in and she would always be asked to do things by older members of the pack.

In her later teens, she was tasked with keeping the younger wolves safe and secure on the full moon. Unfortunately… she did not leave enough time to tie herself up and she could feel herself starting to turn. Thankfully she managed to leave the house before she fully became her wolf form. The children were frightened, but unharmed. Tammi on the other hand did not make it to a secure place and was attacked by confused and frightened humans. She was scared, confused and backed into a corner… so her wolf lashed out. She killed three people that had been camping that night. Her family may have covered it up with their status in town but it’s something she can't let go of and something she carries with her every day.

Tammi really struggled with her guilt and pain more than she showed and she barely graduated from high school. She knew she wasn't going to go to college and she found herself a job at the local gym. She’s been there ever since. She’s an energetic and athletic person and she rather likes her job. She knows a lot of the guys from the pack and those that she doesn’t know, she makes quick friends with. It’s just a job. It pays the bills and Tammi isn’t looking for anything else. She has her family, her friends, she has her pack. She doesn’t need to over complicate her life.

Since she was a young child, Tammi competed in local gymnastic competitions. It helped with the extra energy she had as a wolf and she was a natural. Her parents always wanted their children to be more than just wolves, they encouraged them to have hobbies and interests outside the pack. Though she couldn’t exactly admit to the judges the advantages she had from being a werewolf. She loved the attention she got from competing, and even now, she loves the sparkling dresses and being prasied. She practises a lot in her spare time even if she is getting older now. She teaches a gymnastics class on a Saturday and a dream would be to make that a full time career. She’s just not sure how to get there.

Some might describe Tammi as a little audacious. She’s bold and she can be considered unpredictable, her past doesn't always help with her emotions. She has never fully let go of that guilt or forgiven herself. Although after what happened in her early teens, she has a need to be safe and secure. This is something she longs for in Hexmore and the disappearances aren't helping.

#bio post #about page #about tammi #tammibio #hexbios

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miskick · 3 months

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Name: Joseph Joestar

Age: 19

Do you like to cuddle?: I'd like to do anything if it means we'll be close and personal.

Can we make-out?: Ooooh, someone's feeling bold. But don't mind if I do.

A night in or dinner out?: Let's go out in the town, if we're dating I'd like to flash the news to the world.

Whip cream or chocolate syrup?: Hmmm what a question, my oh my what does go into your mind Karin? But for choice's sake whipped cream -winks at her-

Chocolates and roses?: Only so I ensure you eat something, I'll go with chocolate.

What makes you a good Valentine?: I'm the man of your dreams after all, I mean why WOULDN'T I make a good valentine? I'm strong, couragous and did I mention handsome? Although if you'd need another reason you could say because I care about you, so much so that I can say for certainty there isn't another man alive that cares about you more than I.

Would you cook for me?: Well I've never actually prepped a meal before, bloody hell how hard can it be right?

Would you let me cook for you?: I think that would be brilliant. I'd never turn down a meal from you.

Where would you take me on a date?: I'm thinking restaurant..though nothing fancy. Those menus are hard for me to read..and that's not because I'm a tourist.

Who’s paying?: You just leave that to good ol' Jojo.

What did you get me for Valentine’s Day?: Well if I told you that then it wouldn't be a surprise. Just know the gift would keep you smiling for days on end.

Valentine’s Day Application // accepting

Joseph Joestar, ever the charmer, and apt to lay those charms on thick. For a long time, she considered his boisterous attitude annoying, especially his persistent interest in her. She wondered if he considered her a challenge to conquer, what with her harsher personality, but she has long outgrown those childish assumptions. She gives him the attention he deserves, carefully considering each response he gives. Unsurprisingly, many of his answers earn him an eye roll, or a scoff. (Some intrigued her in ways she would refuse to admit.) Years ago, she would have deemed these matters trivial, having never experienced a proper Valentine's Day, and even now, she still carries some of these values. Yet, when she looks upon him, that gleaming smile and those sincere (albeit brash) green eyes, she can't help but fall captive in those alluring hues. A part of her strains, not wanting to let him know how fondly she gazed at him.

❝You're ridiculous,❞ the Magician scoffs, eyes closing and brows knitted in what seems to be displeasure, but the gentle color in her cheeks say otherwise. A beat passes, and finally, she lifts her gaze, her chin still poised in her palm. Many things he said were cheesy, though he was being honest with each word. Once upon a time, his flirtatious endeavors would have annoyed her, and he would've received some form of retribution, be it in words or through her fists. Nowadays, though… she's softened, or perhaps he's grown on her -- or perhaps a combination of both. It honestly didn't take much contemplation on her part, but she can't let him know that, now can she?

❝Alright, fine. If you want it so badly, you can be my valentine.❞ Her hand withdraws, and she looks upon Joseph with flushed cheeks. ❝Just… let me know when you come by to get me.❞

#scarlxtleaves #IC ≫ ( throw down! )#ASKS ≫ ( message received! )#[ ah yes i get to start propagating this ship on here now too #rubs my little hands together yes good ]

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simonsnowichooseyou · 3 years

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This excellent essay was posted by @goodbyedandelion and reposted on Instagram—however their account sadly seems gone now. But it is in rememberence of their Tumblr spirit that I post a continuation to their essay!

EVEN MORE Reasons Why Carry On is so groundbreaking as a YA Fantasy/Romance

Misconceptions/Character Complexity

A large topic in YA Contemporary is gossip, but I feel like fantasy doesn’t touch on this as much. Think of how others perceive one another in Carry On. Early on we learn that Simon, for example, saw Penny as different because of her race. But of course, we quickly know this isn’t true.

But what about Agatha? In Harry Potter, for example, Lavender Brown and other feminine characters are often looked down upon because of their femininity. We often as a culture perceive beauty as overcompensation for what’s inside. Sometimes Agatha is looked at in the same light in Carry On, but when we see things from her POV, we realize that Agatha is perhaps the smartest one there. Maybe she’s not Penny Bunce-smart, but she has the survival instincts that Penny lacks.

Agatha isn’t the only one. Baz looks cold and unfeeling from others’ POVs, but we quickly learn that he is a boy with a soft heart that’s been hardened by his past. Everyone thinks he cares about nothing but we know he cares about his mother and how she’d feel about him; his father and step-mother and siblings; Simon, of course; Bunce, in his own way; he even cares about flowered suits and dramatic entrances! We think Bunce is nerdy and perhaps annoying, but we learn she’s very sweet and like a mother to Simon. And the mage. Ugh, the mage. We think he cares about Simon but we learn that for every bit he cares about Simon, he cares about the war more.

Rowell doesn’t allow any character to be simple, stereotypical, or as they appear. My sister, for example, was saying that Baz sounded like a stereotypical gay man in the media. But he’s not, is he? He might love fashion but Rowell does not make him simple or stereotypical. Everyone is so complex, and she uses the multi-POV to not just show us their complexity but also the complexity of how they are viewed by others.

Woman on Woman Drama/Anger

For years and years, only one woman was allowed to have a true seat at the table in films. Take Indiana Jones, the original Avengers, and Star Wars for example. This woman was often made to be the sex appeal or romantic interest, but I’ll save that for another day. Because of there only being one spot, it set a precedent that women in media needed to fight with each other to take that spot, thus depriving us of women getting along!

At first, I was worried Rowell had fallen into this trap. Bunce thinks Agatha is simple and too feminine, Agatha thinks Bunce is a major pain in the ass. Their dislike for one another is complicated in that they’re essentially two different types of feminism battling it out, and half of their fight was about Simon and their roles in his life.

But in the end, Penny and Agatha create a relationship that exists outside of their relationship with Simon. Penny sees Agatha’s strength and resilience; Agatha recognizes Penny’s harsh exterior for what is is. When Agatha moves away, they text without his even knowing. Penny is the one that decides they need to check on and save her. In the end, penny and Agatha fight alongside one another.

Rowell didn’t just give us a feminine friendship—she showed us what we’ve been doing, and how to get from Point A to point B. I think it’s the most underrated part of the series.

True Friendship

It might sound bad, but I truly believe a lot of today’s media ruins the idea of friendship. I just feel like none of the portrayals are realistic. Friends are either joined at the hip and have never fought (toxic) or never get along (also toxic). The fact that Baz and Penny and Simon and Penny and Agatha and Penny can get into fights but still continue to love one another platonically is really heartwarming to me.

Trauma/Mental Illness

I remember getting to the end of Harry Potter and thinking “he went through all of that and we’re just supposed to leave him now?” We see some remnants in the most cursed play ever: The Cursed Child. But more than trauma we see someone who looks back on the days they risked their life everyday with *longing.* While that’s about the most Harry Potter thing Harry Potter has ever done (and the most canonical part of that play) it’s so unrealistic. You’re telling me Harry grew up with nothing and was an amazing father—minus a few spats with his son. You’re telling me Harry was able to hold it together emotionally after fighting for his life from ages 11-18 without a therapists help? You’re telling me Harry lost two father figures in the ministry of magic AND spent 7 years going through what amounted to a lesson titled “the government is corrupt” just to be a part of that government!?

Wayward son isn’t like that. Wayward Son shows us what happened to Simon afterwards, and it’s not peaches and cream. He had therapy, he quit therapy. A lot of us have been Simon on that couch, and we all needed the Baz in our life to drag us across a metaphorical America. Wayward Son is hands-down my favorite book. Realistic depictions of mental illness, check. Subverting our expectations of after the end, check. Reading it feels like taking a road trip, check.

As OP mentioned, Simon is a beloved chosen one because he’s just so wrong for the role. He’s not levelheaded where he should be, he’s bold in all the wrong places, he couldn’t possibly maintain a professional relationship with the coven. Meanwhile his super-hot enemy Baz was the absolute perfect choice to be chosen, but he was completely passed over. And part of this chalks up to how Simon became so powerful—fate isn’t twisting its whims this way and that. Simon is only chosen because he was a Petri dish experiment-gone-wrong baby. When Simon asks the fates why, really he should be asking the mage. There’s something delightful about the fact that Simon was made. The chosen one was made, and in the same process, so was the greatest threat.

De-escalation

I think it’s clear by now that Carry On is a great book, Simon Snow is an amazing series, and Rainbow Rowell sure can write. But I feel the need to point out that the end of Carry On wasn’t well-received by everyone. I recommend the series to everyone I know and some people are really disappointed you don’t get a big magical battle at the end. Some people think Simon filling in the humdrum was a cop out. But I disagree. I felt it was thrilling to witness a book where war was as stupid in fantasy land as it can be in real life. This is the first fantasy I’ve ever read where they find a better way to handle conflict than senseless fighting. It’s emotionally rewarding, to me, to see de-escalation. To see conflicts fixed before they start to be huge problems. It was a risky choice for an end, you have to admit. But Rowell pulls it off amazingly.

Nothing is Wrapped in a Bow

A day will never go by without me thinking about the fact that Simon Snow Salisbury doesn’t know who his parents are. Or how Baz will never know what exactly happened with his mother—whether she really ended herself to avoid vampirism and whether she would’ve done it to her too. We’ll never even quite understand the mage’s plan behind fix the humdrum and get an all powerful boy wizard on his side. Rowell doesn’t wrap everything up. She gives you closure as often as she gives you something to ponder. The ending of Harry Potter was so controversial, I think, because it spelled out so clearly much of what was happening. And what you didn’t learn in that epilogue, Rowling released later through Pottermore and interviews. That’s fine and dandy—but there’s something to be said for ending Simon Snow’s books with questions. Not infuriating questions but rather things that I’ll always ponder—that will shed new light on different situations depending on how I look at them. Rowell sets a precedent that you can fill in Simon’s world with your imagination while also reminding us that life doesn’t have endings. Not really, the way books to. Rowell is one of the few writers of today’s fantasy, I’d argue, who’s okay letting things go unanswered. There’s always a thread of fantasy and magic going. It’s something that will keep Simon alive in my heart for many, many years to come.

So yeah, that’s what I think about when I think about Simon Snow. It’s not nearly as coherent as the original post but I hope you enjoy it.

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greenygreenland · 3 years

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Dream A Little Dream Of Me: Norman x Reader

-MANGA SPOILERS! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

-NOTE: YOU’RE BOTH AGED UP SO DON’T START TELLING ME FBI’S GONNA COME TO MY DOOR 😂😂

-THE TIMELINE IS A BIT MESSED UP SO JUST IGNORE IT COMPLETELY AND DON'T ASK ME LOL

-also, is it just me or do thick eyebrows look really cute??? Norman has pretty thick brows compared everyone else and I think they're cute

WARNINGS: Kissing lol

Summary: You finally see Norman again.

Life had to be the scariest thing you'd ever faced. It threw the bad, the good, the everything your way until you could barely stand. Until you were left broken and mangled and shattered. Life was scary. It was cruel. Yet somehow, today was different.

You thought it was a dream. After all, how could it be reality when the boy in front of you died a year and some months ago? He had been shipped out, left for dead because it was a part of his stupid escape plan.

So how was it he stood before you? Breathing? Smiling? Living?

The office door closed behind you with a soft click. It bathed the room in silence, as if for a moment, the world decided to give you a second to breathe. A second to take in the wonderous sight before you.

The boy's name stuck in your throat. He had changed, not only in height, but stature and appearance. Norman was older, and he grew up to be more handsome than any runway model could ever be.

"(Y/n)," he gently said. "I'm glad you're well."

That was all it took. One sentence and you tackled him in the tightest hug your trembling arms could muster. "Norman...!" To have his arms around you, to hear the beating of his heart--it was a relief. A miracle sent by the gods. "You’re so stupid!"

No, he was more than stupid. He had to be the dumbest boy alive to think that it was okay to sacrifice himself for the sake of your family. You all were supposed to escape together just like Emma said. No one was supposed to be left behind, yet Norman--bless his heart--acted on his own.

You hugged him as if he would disappear if you let go. "We were all supposed to leave together. But you--I thought you--shipped out--and then--!" You chocked on your words. What more could you say anyway?

You buried your face in the crook of his neck. The muffled sob that ripped through your throat was more than Norman could handle. His knees went weak and you both slowly sunk to the floor in a heap.

"I'm here." he gently said. "I'm not going anywhere (Y/n)."

Despite the steadiness in Norman's voice, his shoulders hitched, and he sniffled. "I'm here." he repeated. "I-I'm here." It sounded like he were reassuring himself that he wouldn't leave you so soon, as if he were scared too. Not for the way you sobbed and sobbed, but for the ache in his heart that seemed to beat in sync with yours.

Slowly, your sobs turned to quiet sniffles, which then silenced into nothing but tiny hiccups. You basked in Norman's warm embrace. He didn't hold you too tightly, as if he were afraid it would shatter you to pieces. Instead, he pulled you close to his side and leaned on his desk behind.

You rested your head on his chest, taking the time to memorise his scent. Parchment, the woods, and old books. You liked that, it was comforting to know he still smelled the same. On the other hand, his voice wasn’t as smooth or rounded as it once was. It was icy. No one seemed to notice that tiny sharpness that hit the end of each note he spoke. You wondered what could've made his kind heart harden.

Sure, Norman was still the same Norman you remembered, but something about the way he acted seemed off. He was clingy, much more than he ever was. Maybe he just missed you? No, that couldn't be right. Norman acted as if he were running out of time. He held you close and gently, as if these would be the last moments you'd see each other again. As if there wouldn't be a tomorrow.

You slowly pulled away to get a good look at Norman's face. His chin was slightly pointier, his cheeks less chubby and full. His lips twitched upwards into a comforting smile. It didn't quite reach his eyes because he looked so overwhelmingly tired. Your poor boy probably worked day and night to keep the hideout on its feet. It must be hard on him, you thought. Especially since he was revered as a god.

Norman's brows raised. "What's wrong?"

You took his thin hands in your own and gave them a good squeeze. "It's nothing. What about you?"

Ah yes, small talk. The perfect way to avoid any question thrown your way. Norman knew you well, sometimes even more than himself. When you asked simple questions such as these, that meant your mind laid elsewhere in a land he could never reach. Norman took that as a hint to drop the subject.

For now.

He wondered what invisible weight laid on your shoulders. Was it something as heavy as his? Perhaps your weight was worse and it ate away at you. Norman wished he could take that weight away and relieve you of that pain. He'd carry it all if he could, and it didn't matter to him if he'd die trying. This was you he was thinking about. He'd do anything for you.

"I've been okay," Norman vaguely responded. "But I have been busy, so I find it difficult to sleep sometimes.”

Norman liked to be honest, but you knew it was because that helped him figure out what was wrong with you. It was a game of tag. In this case being 'it' meant figuring out each others' worries through a back-and-forth match.

"You haven't been sleeping enough?" Your voice came out rather quiet as you traced invisible circles over the back of his hands. "Is that because you have so much work? Or do you refuse to get help?" Norman sat in a still silence and you sighed.

Of course.

This was your Norman after all. He always shouldered a burden too big for his shoulders to carry. It was always something so heavy, so terribly hard to balance by himself. If that burden grew any bigger, it would collapse, and that would be his downfall. But you wouldn't let that happen to your Norman. No, no, no. You'd take that burden from him, steal it if you had to, and be his crutch.

"What have you been doing here?" you quickly added. "As 'William Minerva', I mean?"

Norman looked unbearably uncomfortable. That little frown tugging at the edge of his lips was a tell-tale sign. “I’ve been getting a lot done." he carefully said. "In fact, I’ve figured out a way to end this. Once and for all.”

Norman began by explaining the first phase of his plan. The first phase had long been in motion. It started with the indiscriminate burning of cattle facilities, then the gathering of information, and continued on to pave the way for all the other phases you didn’t care to hear about.

The first few steps weren't too bad, but the final act in Norman's plan made your skin crawl. You half-wished you hadn’t asked him anything to begin with. Maybe it would have spared your appetite. Your grip on his thin hands loosened and loosened until your hands rested on your lap.

Norman wasn't so little anymore. He had grown up just a bit, but not in the way you wished to see. How could he think of something so cold-hearted and cruel? The extermination of all demons in Neverland was an act of genocide. If you re-called correctly, it was also considered a war crime.

Norman was smarter than that. He understood the consequence he'd have to face if that were the path he walked right? He understood that there were still other options right? Maybe you heard him wrong.

No.

You had to have heard him wrong. Norman wasn't ruthless like that. He was a ball of sunshine that made you smile whenever you were together.

"I see..." You tightly smiled. "So that's your plan on freeing everyone?" Norman nodded with a seriousness that took you back to the time he left everything to you and Ray and Emma.

You weren't mistaken then. Norman truly meant everything he said.

"Yes, that is my plan. It's been taking me a little longer than expected to set it in motion. I've decided to officially start tomorrow."

Tomorrow?

Your breath hitched. "Don't you think that's a bit hasty? What if...what if something goes wrong?" Norman smiled. It was hollow and wry and everything that he wasn't. "Don't worry. Fortunately, I've always been pretty good at getting what I want." You didn't return the smile, and you didn't want to say why.

Norman was quick to catch on. But of course he would catch on so quickly, this was Norman. Your Norman.

"Do you have a problem with my plan?" he inquired. You shook your head. "No, it's...it's not that." Yes, it was that. Your plan is dangerous even if it is good, you thought. Innocent lives wouldn't be spared, and that would spell an unfair fate for the demons who ate to survive.

You wanted to tell Norman why his plan was wrong, and why he didn't have to be so unforgiving about it. But then what? Why would he listen when you didn't have any better ideas? He seemed to have his mind set anyway, so no half-baked ideas would make a difference. And besides, he was the smartest person you knew. Maybe that was the only way out of the terrible fate all you cattle children faced.

"If you're okay with my plan," Norman said, "then what's bothering you (Y/n)?"

"It's still a lot for me to take in," you admitted with a plastic smile. "I guess I'm just shocked that you're, well, here." Norman smiled, this time with a genuine warmth. "I understand." He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on your lips. "I'll see you at dinner."

Your cheeks burned. How bold of him. "Y-yeah, I'll see you at dinner." Norman let out a cute little chuckle that made your heart beat a little louder than it was supposed to. You hauled yourself off the floor and made your way to the door. Norman followed.

You flashed him a nervous smile, one that mixed in with your muddled worry and anxiousness. You glanced at his bright eyes. For a moment, they seemed to dim like the setting sun. It reminded you of Mama. When no one looked at her, she didn’t smile. She always looked so sad when she sat by herself, and maybe that was because she was.

"(Y/n)?"

Your fingers brushed against the doorknob. “Hm?”

"I want nothing more than to protect you and our family. I know you don't fully agree with me," his expression darkened. "But this is the way--the only way we can save everyone without spilling a single drop of blood."

For a moment, you forgot who you were speaking to. This wasn't the same boy you begged to run away with before he got shipped out. This wasn't the same boy who gently tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and sweetly complimented you. This boy--did you truly still know him? Was he still the Norman you grew up with and fell head-over-heels for?

You blinked and that dark look washed itself off his face. He strode up to you and placed a hand on your cheek--just like the day he was supposed to be harvested. Norman’s eyes were soft, softer than any blanket, and his lips pursed into a gentle frown. With his thumb, he wiped a stray tear away.

Why were you crying?

"Norman..." You couldn’t find the right words. There were none that could explain the suffering you endured in silence. You worried, not only for Norman, but your family and all those other people in the world you didn’t know about. Norman’s plan--oh how stupid it was--had it changed him? Had it forced him to guard his heart to keep a still mind?

You wondered what he endured while you went on your crazy adventures. At least you had your family, and Yuugo, Lucas, and all your friends. But Norman? He didn’t have anyone but himself. He carried the whole world. Alone. Had he been scared? Worried? Angry that no one came for him? Your heart clenched at the thought.

"Smile,” Norman said. “It’s okay, I promise. I'm here." He gathered you in his arms and you didn’t have the heart to protest. “How?” you whispered. “How were you able to do all this on your own?” Norman helplessly shrugged. “You could say I have connections, either that or I’m just lucky.”

“What will you do after this is all over?”

Norman went still again, as if he couldn’t answer your question. You heaved in a shaky breath. If Norman wasn’t going to give you a straight answer, then you’d squeeze it out of him. “Did anything else happen to you? I’m sure there’s a catch, isn’t there?”

It was like someone flipped a switch. One moment, you were a mess of tears, sorrow, and anguish. Now, something menacing laid in your voice. It was almost threatening, as if you were indirectly telling Norman to dare avoid the question. “I don’t want you dying trying to be everything at once,” you said. “Here you’re revered as a god, and if I know you, then it’s plain that you set yourself up like that. Don’t tell me you plan to die on us again.”

He stiffened.

“I know you Norman, don’t forget that. And because I love you, I don’t want to see you destroy yourself. I admit, I don’t know why you act like you’re going to leave again, but I’ll do everything in my power to stop you.” You pulled away and took his hands in yours. A small smile of reassurance made its way up your lips, but Norman didn’t return it.

No, he couldn’t. And despite all he did, he couldn’t lie straight to your face. Not like this.

Dinner cheered you up. The smiles and laughter that your family shared with Norman made you feel just a little bit better. But how long would it last? And how long would those smiles stay present? All the questions swarming in your mind made you feel sick to your stomach. There was too much to think about, and too little time to answer them.

You forced down the last of your food with a sigh and brought the plate to its respectful place. Everyone was too busy chatting and catching up to notice, but that was fine. It was better that way.

You made your way to a secluded walkway. It was in one of the calmer areas of the hideout that overlooked the lower levels. It was quiet, save for the distant chatter of Hayato and his friends. He let out a bright laugh that echoed through the vacant walkways. What a shame it would be to hear that disappear.

“So this is where you went.”

“I told you she’d be here.”

You whipped around in alarm. “Ray, Emma!”

Ray sharply looked you up and down. He raised a brow and you squirmed under his gaze. He gently bumped shoulders with you. “What’s wrong with you?”

You absentmindedly shrugged. “Nothing.”

“That’s what someone who’s not okay would say.” Emma noted. She settled by your side on the railing and flashed a bright smile. “You were so quiet at dinner today.”

You shook your head. Que another absentminded shrug and plastic smile. “I guess I just wanted to make sure everyone was okay.”

Ray sighed. “Everyone but you?” He leaned against the railing next to you. “Did you and Norman talk at all?”

You froze. ‘Yes’, was what you wanted to say, but no sound came out. The image of Norman’s matured face, the way his his soft lips hit your own, and his stupidly tall build crossed your mind.

Emma let out a gasp and slapped a hand over her mouth. “Ah!” she cried. “You’re all red!” You covered your hands with your face, ignoring Ray’s curious stare.

“What did you two talk about in his office anyway? Or should I say, do?” The glint in Ray’s eyes had subtext you didn’t want to recite out loud. “Rayyyyy,” you grumbled, “shut up.” He sent you a teasing grin as Emma frowned in confusion. “I don’t get it.”

“You’ll understand when you’re older.”

“Yeah, it’s grown up stuff.”

You ignored the warmth spreading to your cheeks and elbowed Ray. “Don’t say it like ‘that’! Now you make it sound like something else!”

He daringly raised a brow. “Like what?” You ran a hand over your scorching face. It was a miracle you weren’t on fire. “No, no, I’m not answering you!”

You shared a good laugh and a comfortable silence began to settle, blanketing your shoulders in a lightness that you hadn’t felt in a while.

Emma softly smiled. “I’m glad we found you.” she admitted. “You looked really sad all by yourself out here.” Ray nodded with a small snort. “Yeah, talk about depressing. But seriously though, did something..?”

Of course these two would see through your façade. Of course they’d understand something was wrong. They were your family, and they didn’t deserve your silence. Your smile shattered. “I don’t know if Norman told you about his plan yet, but it’s...it’s bad. Sure, the demons have done some terrible things to us, but that doesn’t mean all of them are guilty. I want to stop him, but I don’t know how.”

Emma nodded in agreement. “He told us earlier and I don’t like it either.” she firmly said. “Ray and I talked it over and we have a plan, but it’s risky. Like, really risky. It has to do with the Seven Walls and...”

You held on to every word Emma and Ray spoke. Risky was your middle name. Well, not actually, but it was something that became your friend. You and your family looked death in the face too many times to count. What would be another?

By the end of it, you were sure this new plan would change Norman’s mind, or at least convince him to give up the whole ‘genocide’ thing. It was decided by Ray that tomorrow, you’d all talk to Norman. Things seemed to be looking up. No, they had to be.

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

The halls were empty and you were alone. How was it you got lost in the first place? You made sure to have every twist and turn memorised, so why did you end up in the wrong corridor twice? Ray would surely tease you for getting lost. What an absolute--

You slammed into someone’s chest. A yelp escaped your throat as the person in question lost his footing. He sucked in a sharp breath and went tumbling straight into you. Your back hit the ground as the boy threw out his arms on either side of your head to brace himself. You didn’t need a name to know who you had tumbled into. Light hair, soft eyes, fancy waistcoat and suit.

“Norman?”

He hovered over you with wide eyes. His lips were inches from yours and he was just so, so close.

Thump, thump, thump.

Your heartbeat was so gosh dang loud. Could he hear it? Could he see the way your face burned red?

“Uhm--I--I--uh--”

Why wasn’t he moving? Why weren’t you moving? Why was it so hard to look him in the eyes? A nervous smile broke out across Norman’s lips. He pushed himself off of you and offered out a hand. You gingerly took it.

“Sorry.” Norman said, helping you to your feet. “I wasn’t looking where I was going. Are you okay?” Your gaze darted from his lips to his dazzling eyes and then to his cheeks dusted in red. Your heart wouldn’t stop slamming against your chest. It kept going, and going until you felt like you were about to burst.

“Sh-shouldn’t I be asking you that?” you retorted. “I’m not the one who--you know...gets sick all the time.” You weren’t sure why you said it like that, or why that made Norman smile so cutely, but he was smiling. That made your heart flutter. You glanced around the corridor a few times, and somehow, you kept finding focus on his lips.

What was wrong with you?

Norman caught on fast--like he always did. “Oh I see,” he said with a low chuckle. You swallowed. His voice really did deepen (but you kind of liked it). For a moment, you thought he caught onto your staring, but instead of commenting on it, he intertwined his hand with yours and led you through the winding halls.

“Don’t tell Ray I got lost.” you muttered. Norman laughed and it was like the sound of happiness itself. “I won’t.”

The halls all looked the exact same: cream coloured paint, nature-like decorations, and numbered wooden doors. You forgot what number your room was, so that was probably why you got lost. Norman took a sharp left where you recalled should be a right instead. “Wait isn’t it that way?”

“I have something to give you, so we’re going to make a quick detour.” Norman’s cheeks dusted pink and he looked the slightest bit nervous. “What is it you want to show me?” He flashed you a contagious smile. “It’s a surprise.”

“What kind of surprise?”

“I can’t tell you,” he said with a chuckle, “that’s why it’s called a surprise.”

When you got to his office, you were nervous. Surprises were fun, yes, but in a world where nearly getting eaten by wild demons fell into the category of ‘surprise’, you learned not to like them very much.

Norman closed the door behind you and it softly clicked shut. Okay, you thought. So he was locking the door and making his way over to his desk. Okay, that’s fine. Norman shuffled through a cabinet, that nervous look still on his face. Okay, okay, nothing wrong here. He gently shut the drawer, and as he walked out from behind his desk, you took note of the small little box he fiddled with.

Okay. Okay. Box. Nervous. Locked door. Did he not want anyone to interrupt whatever he was about to do?

Norman heaved in a deep breath. A really, really, really deep breath. “(Y/n), I have never met anyone else like you. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met, and you’re beautiful and kind.” He sunk to one knee and opened the little box. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes!”

---------

You jolted awake with a start.

“Sorry,” Norman said. He scribbled a few words down in his notebook. “Did I wake you?”

Ah, that’s right. After you talked with Emma and Ray, you all met up with Norman and hung out for a bit. But when had you gotten to his office? Much less, fallen asleep? You rubbed your eyes with a shake of your head. Judging by the tired look on Norman’s face, it was way past bedtime.

The heavy cloak around your shoulders offered a welcoming warmth. It smelled like books. It smelled like parchment and ink. It smelled like Norman and it was comforting.

He glanced up from his notebook and curiously met your gaze. “What are you smiling at?” The dream popped up in your mind and your smile grew. “I had a good dream.”

“What was it about?” he inquired without looking up.

“You.”

The scratch of the pencil froze and he met your gaze. “You had a dream about me?” Your cheeks flushed. “Yeah, and you proposed.” Norman’s back went rigid and he turned as red as an apple. “I-I pro--proposed to you?” he stammered. You snickered, a smug smile tugging on your lips. “It was really sweet. And if you’re wondering, I said yes. I was going to kiss you, but then I woke up.” You stood up with a sigh. “It was disappointing, but that’s okay.”

You let out a small laugh and neatly folded Norman’s cloak. You left it on the couch and made your way across the room. “That’s a nice notebook.” you said. “What’re you writing about?”

Norman stilled and closed the book with a smile. “It’s nothing special.” He put the pencil down ever so quietly and stood. “Do you seek my affections?” he inquired. You settled on the wall. “Don’t you have work to do?” Norman looked down at you. His fringe brushed across his eyelashes, and he loosened his tie. Slowly.

Your heart steadily drummed against your chest. “What are you doing?” The false innocence in your voice caused Norman to chuckle lowly. He caressed your cheek with a feather-light touch. “Well, you did say you were disappointed right? Why don’t I make it up to you?”

He rested an arm on the wall with a sly smirk. Your lips connected and it made your stomach flip-flop. The kiss was slow, it was sweet. You found yourself pulling him closer, running your hands through his hair and yanking him over. "Norman?" He met your gaze with half-lidded eyes. "Yes (N/n)?"

"Where did you learn how to do that?"

He smirked and it was hot. The fact that he kept his arm braced against the wall didn’t help either. "Why?" he lowly inquired. "Do you like it?" Your breath caught in your throat and you found yourself wanting more.

Knock, knock!

Norman didn't look too happy about that. He ran a hand over your cheek and gently tucked a lock of hair behind your ear, that half-lidded look of his melting into warmth and love. He made his way to the door, tightening his tie and smoothing out his hair with a quick touch.

"Hello--?" Norman fell short mid-sentence. As soon as your gaze locked with the person on the other side, you understood why. Ray stood in the threshold, just as red-faced as you and Norman, with a sheepish look on his face. “I’ll come back later.” he muttered.

Oh great. Had he been eavesdropping? You glanced at Norman and he glanced at you, then Ray, and back to you. Ray sucked his teeth and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Don’t have too much fun.” he said, a smirk twitching onto his lips.

You made your way to the threshold with a groan. “Rayyyy!”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry.” he coolly replied. “Do whatever, I didn’t see anything.”

PART 2 <--- READ PART 2

NOTE: I spent a WHOLE WEEK writing this. Please reblog so I know you guys like it :)

TIP JAR

417 notes · View notes

moonbaby26 · 3 years

Text

Title: Growing Love

Pairing: Loki x Goddess!Reader

Summary: Story set nearer the Viking Age. You were a Greek sea goddess who crossed paths with the god of mischief. Continuation of previous chapter. Loki returns to Asgard and is confronted by his mother Frigga and her accurate suspicions on his newfound interest in Midgard. While you witness the completion of the building erected for you and Loki by the villagers, followed by his return back to you in the night.

Warnings: None this chapter. Just fluff! First Loki and his mental sparring with Frigga who loves him, and then some well deserved cuddling with you who is also starting to.

Chapters: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Taglist: @rosaline-black , @lawfeys , @loveableasshole , @insanitybyanothername , @just-wordsandthoughts , @cringingmemeries

My Masterlist

——————————

A few days ago, Asgard

Loki emerged from the light, now back home before the bifrost immediately closed once more. The smug smile remained on his face as your last question still played through his mind. He knew that nickname he’d given you wouldn’t be something you’d let go of anytime soon. In fact, he counted on it. Something to distract and occupy you for the coming weeks until he could return.

It may be selfish of course. But if you were becoming stuck in his mind this often, he had to make sure he wasn’t the only one now having to suffer. Though there was something rewarding about getting to hide you away still. Even if he knew the arrangement in the village would come to light eventually, potentially making these trips to your realm far more problematic.

The sooner he could find an alternate route to Midgard to bypass the bifrost and Heimdall entirely, the better. He could not allow all his future ability to see you to become solely dependent on Odin’s whims.

Whatever the Allfather would think of these risks now being taken though, Loki truly did not care. But historically, whatever he’d most desired always ended up taken away from him in one way or another. Or even worse, absorbed into the limitless well of good fortune that seemed to follow Thor like a miasma. So he had to prepare for that, plan for it really.

Of course, you didn’t seem the type to fall apart so easily over just some long blonde hair and an oversized set of muscles. But Loki had lost count ages ago of how many times he’d still ended up with the short end of the stick whenever his brother had entered any situation. Parading you before Thor wan’t something he was willing to chance just yet either.

No, he had to consider both his father and brother now as threats to these new emotions he was still trying to define. It likely shouldn’t be so, but somehow it always was. They always got in his way.

And as Loki now strode forward, his appearance only shifted to that of a standard royal guard, wishing for a more discreet entrance back into the palace after so many hours away. He had let the adorations of those mortals delay him far more than expected.

But the feel of sitting at the head of that mead hall with you at his side had hit him in such a strange way as well. A fleeting taste which had caused him to linger even further there as he’d fantasized about sitting similarly content on Asgard’s throne one day.

That dream of seizing his birthright was nothing new of course, yet the difference was now the addition of you in that mental image. He wanted you there so suddenly, with loyalty and pride radiating from you for all the court to see. He needed you to want to be his, to be willing to do whatever necessary to defy Asgard’s enemies in his name.

And even now, those thoughts brought a flare of desire that he could not act on. Frustrating as it was, he knew he had to maintain some semblance of patience. Heimdall’s silent stare of judgement didn’t even rile him to speaking either as the still disguised Loki passed silently by the gatekeeper.

He was bold enough to change appearance right in front of Heimdall, yes. But he also knew that until he crossed the line of actually doing something which broke Asgardian law, Heimdall would still keep what he had seen to himself. Travel to Midgard was not yet forbidden after all.

But Heimdall’s current courtesy of silence would only go so far as to delay the inevitable. The clock was still ticking on this secret and Loki knew it.

And unlike Midgard that had still been fully night, dawn was now just breaking in Asgard as Loki made his way back into the palace. The sparse guards he did encounter, he only gave little mocking salutes to. Still in the guise of one of them as he’d mimicked their own protocols before he’d turned the corner into the next corridor and ended up at the massive doors to his own living quarters.

So close to being able to hide himself back away for a few moments before the palace fully awakened, he had just placed his palms on the ornate, golden door handles when a sudden sound made him still completely.

“Good morning, son.” The placid voice called to him from nothing as his mother Frigga only materialized directly behind him.

And there was just that smallest moment of fear inside him. Just the length of a heartbeat before he’d turned smoothly to face her, his own magic dissolving to remove his disguise as excuses bubbled readily to his mind.

Of course he was still in the same armor from all those hours before, the muck of that mortal village even still marring the soles of his boots as he offered her an easy smile. “Well...how long have you been waiting here, Mother?”

Yet she responded just as simply, a gentle look in her eyes. “Not long at all really. I suppose I have good timing.”

But he was still searching, examining her body language for any hint of her actual intention. How much did she know? “I suppose that you do. Have Father and dear brother yet returned triumphant from Alfheim then?” No, he doubted that. The halls would not be near as peaceful if so.

“No. They have not.” She only answered. “...But that is exactly why I thought you may wish to speak to me now while whatever we discuss can still be kept relatively private.”

And there it was. He felt that slight bit of tension in his chest as he weighed his options in quick succession. The foundation with you still wasn’t fully laid, he needed more time to secure things. Even though he trusted Frigga, she and the Allfather went hand in hand in the end. She would not lie to her husband if pressed.

And Odin may forbid this odd new relationship outright, fearing some insult to Poseidon no doubt. If that foreign, Olympian king fully knew that the Asgardian god of mischief was now digging his claws greedily into his youngest daughter without permission, it could easily become a full blown scandal.

Loki hadn’t even bothered to investigate if you were betrothed to anyone in your own kingdom or not either. He did not care. He was a prince and would take whatever he wanted.

Though he knew it better to reveal nothing of you to his own family just yet, he also knew that if he offered Frigga too little in return, she would only step up her efforts to investigate on her own. Motherly concern and all, endearing at times, highly troublesome at others. He’d let her feel as if she had pried a little out of him at least as he played along. “And what is it that we should need to discuss so privately, Mother?” Loki asked calmly at last.

Yet she only smiled, surprising him a little still as she took his arm. “Come. Walk with me. You needn’t play such games. A mother knows when her son is enamored.”

He scoffed, though still letting himself be led as they did begin to walk. The halls were still empty enough this early in the morning for their words to not be easily overheard. “Is that what you think this all about? I think you’re confusing me with that manchild of yours for once.”

“Loki,” Frigga only chided. “It is not weakness to admit such feelings. And yes, for your brother that is an all too frequent cycle. He is not yet mature enough for his relationships to be anything but passing frivolity. But you are different. Which is why it becomes all the more noticeable when it finally does happen. Do not waste breath to deny it.”

He raised his eyebrows, never missing when she did offer even the slightest criticism of Thor. But he was still quick to downplay her insinuation about your importance. “Yet you act as if it has never happened for me before. Just because I’ve been more focused on honing my sorcery skills the last several years, it doesn’t mean I haven’t had my share of frivolity as you call it, Mother.”

But Frigga just gave him a disapproving look then. “Do not be crude just to try and shorten this conversation. There is a clear difference between solely that kind of physical interaction you speak of, and this distraction that has now carried you back to Midgard more than three times now. And you know the significance of the number three in so many of the rituals and rights I have taught you, it-”

“No.” He cut in abruptly. That was the line. If she was trying to say this was already something now beyond his control, something fated, he fully rejected that notion. “I don’t follow the predetermined, Mother. And you know I never want to hear whatever future you’ve seen for me. I will make my own.”

But the queen of Asgard was not one to back down either, responding just as strongly, “And all a witch can see is the possible outcomes, not the one that will truly be. I would never curse you with the burden of such knowledge, even if I were sure. But don’t patronize me to act as if nothing has changed for you. I came here to offer you my help, Loki. If you ever wish to make whoever you have chosen legitimate in the Allfather’s eyes, to actually bring them here one day, you will not be able to do it alone. I hope you understand that.”

“Mother...” He couldn’t help but pause to look in her eyes again, as unexpected as that offer really was. Yet he so quickly grabbed onto the possible other meaning as well in her concern. “You say ‘legitimate’ almost as if I was considered the true heir again. After all, who the future king of Asgard could court would be awfully more important than whoever just a prince would choose, correct? Of course, I suppose a marriage that one day joined Asgard and Midgard would also be significantly more impressive politically than say Thor and Sif, or whoever the Hel he’s galavanting around with these nights...”

She gave him a little hit on the arm at that. Of course he knew she hated whenever he mocked whoever his brother’s current fancy was. But she still just continued. “What should be important to you is finding the person that makes you happy, regardless of their own station. That is the future I want for both my sons. Whichever of you should one day hold the throne.”

Of course she still refused to admit Father’s favoritism that Loki saw all too well. He straightened up a little, that real sincerity in him burning through then. “But it will be me, Mother. I will prove myself worthy to Father, worthy of the throne. One way or another.”

And he hated that sympathetic look in her eyes, even though the real warmth was still there as she answered. “And I still say you’ll be far happier when you focus on yourself rather than chasing the Allfather’s approval. He already loves you both, just as I do.”

That was all he could handle for now, as he took her hand gently, bowing to her slightly before he kissed it. “No, he does not love as unequivocally as you do, Mother. But I do thank you for that. I will consider your offer. Yet I think it is still too early just yet.”

And as he straightened back up, he could see she at least accepted this. She would not dig any further into his visits to Midgard just yet. But he’d only bought additional time for just so long he was sure.“I’m going back to my quarters for a brief rest now.” He told her. “But if you need me any further today, you will find me in the throne room. Where I belong.”

Until Odin and Thor returned from Alfheim, this would be his privilege. His days would be spent hearing any grievances of the kingdom, presiding over council meetings, casting decisions on any changes to security measures, and standing as the head of all the remaining soldiers here for Asgard’s defense.

But at night...at night he’d return to his chambers. And laying there alone, surely that would be when he’d pass the remaining time awake thinking of you. Thinking and hoping that those mortals would hurry up and complete that room and bed for you both.

Whatever they built would still not be to his standards he was sure. But until you could truly lay in his own bed beneath him in Asgard, he would have to accept the compromise of a little hovel of a den for you both in Midgard.

—————————-

Midgard, several weeks later

The days passed so slowly for you. You now divided your time between your normal duties monitoring the oceans, and taking that form of the osprey, flying to visit the little village in the north that Loki had claimed for you both.

Never before had you spent so much time around mortals to be honest. And at first you’d still taken every possible measure to remain hidden from their sight. But eventually, that effort grew too tiresome.

After a while, you didn’t stay so high in the trees any longer. Yourself curious to be true, and watching as step by step they’d raised the timbers to begin building that structure Loki had requested.

You still stayed just out of their reach surely, but you didn’t fly away anymore when you saw them take notice of you. They’d even greet you quite frequently now, just calling you that nickname Loki had given you which they thought your real name. Kærr.

Especially the children. Whenever they moved out into the forest to play or gather freshwater from the nearby stream you’d also now discovered, they always giggled and called to you as they ran along beneath.

You’d even noticed that they gradually seemed to stray farther and farther from the village than they had in the beginning. As if your presence alone gave them confidence of their safety. It was such an odd sense of responsibility. One you weren’t quite sure you were ready for just yet.

The days were growing shorter too, the nights far colder by the time they finally finished that building. And as Loki had suggested, it was still quite small. Like a one room cabin really. Though they’d made quite a show of asking for your approval on it, you didn’t know what you were supposed to really do. They seemed to take your silence as a positive at least before they’d left again saying you could now summon your “master” and they would leave him to his privacy in the new dwelling.

You’d still waited until it was late at night though, knowing most the mortals would now be sleeping before you’d finally landed, changing back to the form of a woman as you’d walked to take a closer look at the building in the dim moonlight.

They’d built this also far enough from the village, here in the deeper woods that they could not stumble accidentally back upon it unless they really meant to. So you weren’t afraid of being seen as you’d walked the perimeter curiously.

It seemed sturdy enough. Quaint, but somehow inviting. And as you moved back towards the door, you realized they’d also listened to Loki’s criticism on their village’s carvings needing to be changed to reflect their new protector.

You couldn’t help but smile as you recognized well that likeness as you now ran your fingers across the rises and falls carved into the wood. The cape, the outlines of armor, the horned helmet...

But the real surprise was his pose, one arm bent, raised near level with his chest. And there perched upon that arm, was a bird of prey. You. Looking far more regal than you ever really had right to be you were sure.

There was a mix of mild embarrassment and a strange amusement that rose in you as you took the whole image in. It was quite possibly the only likeness anyone had ever made for you in the mortal realm. And paired with Loki no less.

Eros’ words carried on your heart still as you finally opened the door to venture inside. You knew Eros couldn’t be wrong, not on this subject. But it didn’t seem like it should be true either. How could you be falling in love when you didn’t even know the real meaning of the word? When you’d only had such fleeting meetings with this man?

The little bit of moonlight barely penetrated the inside of the dwelling and you just left the door open to not fully smother the light as you walked in onto the rough wooden floors. Though they’d laid down some rugs as well as your feet found them.

The furniture was sparse and simple, though maybe still the best of what they had to be truthful. A couple chairs, a small table, a chest for belongings, and of course a bed.

There were candles, but you had nothing to light them with as you now sat down on the empty bed. It was certainly a far cry from the large and extravagant bedding in your father’s palace.

But for someone who could just as easily sleep to the rocking of the waves or the silence of the deeper depths, a makeshift mattress stuffed with wool, moss, or who really knew what, really wasn’t a problem.

It was so quiet too. You laid down on your back, just to get the feeling of it as you stared up at the beams which arched into the ceiling. It reminded you most of the beams inside the hull of a ship, which was likely little coincidence. The ancestors of these people were all seafarers.

Idly, you wondered too if Loki had ever been to sea. You knew from those books you’d read that Asgard had waters of its own. But did he feel comfortable on the water? Did he ever sail? Did he swim? And maybe more importantly, would he ever swim with you?

You closed your eyes, thinking what it could be like to show him things he’d never seen before. Would he feel as good under the water as he did above it? Would he ever visit your own kingdom?

Of his own family, all you really knew was the tension and seeming competition between he and his brother. Would any of your own siblings be impressed by him though? Surprised surely. You’d never brought anyone to the palace before. Maybe one day...

————————————

You thought you were only dreaming. Because it wasn’t as if it hadn’t happened before. Especially in the long stretches between seeing one another. That scent of him, the feel of his cool skin against your own, albeit only making you feel heated as you breathed in deeper.

It wasn’t until you felt that lightest kiss on the back of your neck that your eyes fluttered open. Laying on your side on the bed, as your vision focused you noticed the door to the cabin was now closed. That and a single candle newly lit, flickering dimly on the small table just a few feet away.

You’d fallen asleep at some point. For how long was unclear. But you were absolutely no longer alone.

“Hello, Kærr.” Loki’s voice came in an almost taunting whisper, using that nickname again.

You were startled, but you didn’t hesitate, rolling over immediately to then be face to face with him in the shifting candlelight.

The glint of his teeth met you as he smiled in amusement. But whatever harsh words you may have thought he still deserved, they didn’t come as you’d also noticed his bare chest now nearly against you.

You had to glance down to realize he wasn’t nude however. But dressed solely in a dark pair of pants as he laid so closely beside you.

“You left the door open you know. I took it as an invitation.” He added, one hand now tracing idly down the side of your dress.

“How long have you been here?” You finally asked, but tellingly not pulling away at all as you let the small touches continue.

“Long enough to realize you’ll have me putting protection spells all around these walls if this is how deeply you really sleep, goddess. Imagine if I’d wanted to do more than kiss that pretty throat.”

You stared a moment. And yes, maybe you should have been embarrassed to be caught so defenseless. But in reality, what real enemies had you ever had? You didn’t live always keeping one eye over your shoulder. Yet...was he implying he would choose to protect you if it ever came to that?

You only shifted closer to him at those words rather than retort though, boldly laying your head against his chest then as you scooted down a little in the bed. You liked the way he tensed slightly too, seeming surprised before he just pulled the bed’s quilt up around you both.

The secure feeling as his arm tightened around you beneath the blanket was also very new. Both of you quiet until it was you who next broke the silence. “Will you stay tonight then?” You could have asked how he’d known you were here, how many times he’d been checking on you via Heimdall, but it really didn’t matter.

All you actually cared about in this moment was how long until you’d have to say goodbye to him again.

His tone seemed unusual, caught off guard still perhaps. But he answered simply. “If it’s what you want. Yes.”

Which likely meant that his father and brother had finally returned to Asgard you thought. But you didn’t want to talk about anyone else right now. This time was now just for the two of you.

“It is what I want.” You confirmed, though not looking up at him in the bed. But with your head still against his chest, you could just hear his own heartbeat. And you didn’t think it was only in your imagination that it quickened at those simple words.

But it was true. You may not understand or be able to express more than this right now. You didn’t know how to talk about love or deeper need. Yet you could be honest to say you wanted him to stay. You wanted him beside you for as long as he could be.

And he just held onto you, staying pressed together as if it should always be this way. But it had to mean something to him too you hoped. Because Loki didn’t seem at all the type of god to do anything if it didn’t fulfill some sort of need for himself as well.

No, you didn’t think he would stay just because you’d asked, unless he’d already wanted to. But you wouldn’t question it out loud, not now as you closed your eyes again.

It likely didn’t take you very long to fall back asleep either to the rhythmic sound of his heartbeat beneath your head. Yet even as you did you could also feel the rise and fall of his chest steadying out as his breathing relaxed in tandem.

If he did stay awake to watch you, it only would have been just barely as the two of you remained curled into one another beneath that blanket. He’d asked you once before, though under more lustful circumstances, if you could get used to being with him. You’d answered yes then, wanting the chance surely, but had he meant it in this way too when he’d asked?

Eros had given you the advice to see this through. He said it was the only way to know if your growing love might ever actually be returned by this god. And that was exactly what you were now going to do.

—————————

(Continued in next chapter here)

#loki #loki fluff #loki x reader #loki x y/n #loki x you #loki x oc #loki fanfic #loki odinson #loki lafeyson #loki laufeyson #loki imagine #loki odison x reader #loki layfeyson x reader #loki fandom #loki x original character #loki x original female character

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joonie-beanie · 3 years

Text

Present | Diluc x Reader

Word Count: 6,692

Pairing: Diluc x GN Reader (Traveler)

Preview: After realizing that Diluc never gives himself a chance to relax and enjoy the many festivals of Mondstadt, you and Kaeya come up with a plan to create a festival specifically for Diluc. One that he won't have a choice but to enjoy.

"I want this all to work, because more than anything, I want to see the look on that bastard’s face when he realizes we’ve created an event so perfect that he’ll have no reason not to relax. He’ll be pissed.”

In which Kaeya is a little shit, Diluc doesn't know what's coming, and you're a bit of a (love-stricken) fool.

Mondstadt, as the city of freedom, has no shortage of festivals.

Each year, there’s at least half a dozen festivals—well, official ones, at least. Sometimes Good Hunter or Angel’s Share just happen to be doing a special of sorts—you know, a new wine tasting, a limited-time seasonal recipe, and all of the sudden the entirety of Mondstadt is out enjoying themselves and creating a festival of their own.

During the first leg of your journey, when you’d crusaded with the Knights in order to stop Dvalin, you’d experienced your fair share of the city’s festivities. On a handful of occasions, you’d ended up nursing a glass of Dandelion wine—watching as Mondstadt’s residents mingled in the bars, and seeped out into the music filled streets.

Venti had a habit of putting on a show, his cheeks flushed pink as his melody entranced his audience. Jean tended to immerse herself in her work, but Lisa and Amber always managed to drag her away—the trio getting a bite to eat, and a bottle to share. And Kaeya…well, Kaeya could typically be found in Cat’s Tail—flirting his way through the evening with no shortage of confidence. And if he ever felt like being a bit more mischievous, he’d head over to Angel’s Share and see if he could rile Diluc’s feathers.

Speaking of…the red-headed winery owner never quite seemed to enjoy the liveliness of Mondstadt. No matter how much his workers tried to relieve him of his place behind the bar, he never opted to indulge himself. On occasion, he would leave Charles to run things by himself—quietly slipping out the back door and returning no more than 15 minutes later, not a hair out of place.

It wasn’t until after you’d figured out exactly who the Darknight Hero was that you realized what exactly it was he was doing in those short reprieves of his.

“You know,” you say, the evening of your last festival in Mondstadt. Diluc is making his way back in from the side gate—the masks of defeated Hilichurls left in the grass behind him. “You deserve a break.”

“The Knights use the city’s festivities as an excuse to get drunk and shirk their duties,” he responds, crimson gaze turning to you. “If I don’t keep an eye out, Mondstadt will be left undefended.”

“But that’s not fair to you!” Paimon argues over your shoulder, peeved on his behalf. “Even Master Diluc deserves some downtime!”

“I feel better when I’m doing something—slacking off doesn’t suit me.”

“It’s not slacking off it's relaxing,” you argue, scooting from your spot atop the short concrete wall and following after him once he makes his way up the stairs. “Everyone deserves to relax, especially you, Diluc.”

He sighs at your persistence, B-lining for the back door to the bar.

“You don’t need to worry about me, Y/N.”

“I don’t need to, but I am.”

He pauses in his stride, turning to look at you. Confusion creases his brow, as if he’s not used to anyone outside of his staff genuinely worrying for his well being.

He stares at you for a few seconds, his gaze flitting to the slight pout of your lips. Unfortunately, a little pout isn’t enough to break him.

“Please don’t worry, I promise I’m fine,” he says, his features softening. He doesn’t smile, but the look in his eye is enough to have your heart skipping a beat. Luckily, if your cheeks flush, it can easily be passed off as a side effect of the glass of alcohol you’d already downed.

Without waiting for a response, Diluc then strides forward and returns to the bar. You’re left alone in the street, staring after him--at least, until someone else saddles up beside you.

“I came looking for our dear old friend Diluc since I noticed he was gone, and here I find him out here with you,” Kaeya’s teasing voice reaches your ear. You glance over your shoulder at him, rolling your eyes when he cocks an insinuating brow.

“15 minutes is long enough for a quickie, no?”

“Oh hush,” you say, slapping the front of your hand against his chest. He chuckles.

“Hey, don’t tell me you would be opposed.”

You decide not to respond to that, opting to change the topic, and while Kaeya certainly notices, he chooses not to push it.

“You know,” you start. “Diluc never participates in these festivals because he knows the Knight’s are out enjoying themselves.”

“Ah, and by that you mean “Diluc hates the fact that the Knights are taking a break, and is busy masquerading as the Darknight Hero to protect the city instead, since he thinks we’re incompetent”.”

You wince at his wording. “Well…I wouldn’t put it like that.”

“But he would,” Kaeya scoffs. He eyes the drink in his hand, swirling the contents at the bottom of the glass. Silence stretches for a moment.

“You’re worried about him.”

“I think he just deserves to…I don’t know…enjoy himself??”

A grin stretches at Kaeya’s lips. “Well, if you show up in his bedroom wearing a cute little lingerie set I’m sure he’d—”

“Paimon, look! There’s Venti!” you hurriedly interrupt him, pointing at the intoxicated bard that has come into view just up the road. “Didn’t you say he owes you a meal at Good Hunter?!”

Luckily, the distraction works. Paimon gasps, realizing you’re right, and floats away from your side.

“Hey! Good for nothing bard! Time to pay up!”

You breathe a sigh of relief before turning a narrowed gaze on Kaeya. He holds his hands up innocently.

“Whoops~”

“You have no self-control,” you tell him with a huff, attempting to brush past him and head back into the bar. The cryo-user catches your wrist, however, before you can get too far. With little trouble, he tugs you backwards—your bottom bumping into a wooden table set out behind you, and you reach back to steady yourself. Kaeya places his hands on either side of you, effectively caging you in.

He smiles cheekily.

“If I had no self-control, you’d be flung over my shoulder as I carried you back to your lodgings.”

You cock an eyebrow at him. “Then what’s stopping you?”

The question isn’t teasing, but curious. This is far from the first time Kaeya has entered your personal space, or made naughty insinuations while around you. In fact, once before he had thrown you over his shoulder and attempted to escape, only to be stopped by Jean along the way.

This time, however, despite his bold words, he’s not moving to follow-through.

You hold his gaze, waiting for an answer, and he sighs.

Hanging his head, his soft hair brushes against the skin of your neck as he rests his forehead on your shoulder.

“Because…I think you’re right.”

“…what?”

“I think you’re right,” he repeats, finally taking a step back and giving you some space. There’s a disgruntled yet bashful look on his face.

“I think…maybe…Diluc should relax for a day. Even just an evening, really. I mean, after all, if he doesn’t relax every now and then he’ll age horribly.”

You breathe a laugh at that.

Pushing yourself up, you eye the Knight considerately.

“…you really do care about him, don’t you?”

Kaeya shoots you a look—one that obviously screams “don’t you dare say a word more”—and luckily for him, you don’t. At least, not about his secret concern for Diluc.

“So, if we want to get him to relax for once, how do we do it?”

Kaeya pauses, considering how exactly the two of you can take on this nearly-impossible task. It will be no easy feat to get Diluc to relax, even if only for a few hours. He doesn’t trust a majority of the Knights of Favonius, if any, so even if Kaeya recruited other Knights to guard the city during the next festival, he doubts Diluc would simply accept the increased defense in Mondstadt and relax.

No…of course it wouldn’t be that easy.

“The city is too big,” Kaeya says, making his thoughts known. “Even if the Knights didn’t take a break during the next festival, and chose to patrol instead, I don’t think Diluc would see them as competent enough to actually prevent an attack. He’d assume they’re pouting about being on guard while the rest of the city is having fun, which…wouldn’t exactly be wrong, I’m afraid to admit.”

“Then…why not have a festival in a smaller area?” you suggest. “Maybe the area around the cathedral, or—”

“The winery…”

There’s a look of surprise on Kaeya’s face, like he’s taken aback by his own brilliant idea. But, the more you think about it, the winery would be a perfect place. The area to survey isn’t nearly as large as the entire city, and the winery is already bustling with staff that could help out with the preparations.

“That…yeah, that would definitely work,” you agree, feeling excited that this plan might actually be successful. But…then you remember your sibling, and the fact that you’re leaving for Liyue in the upcoming days, and your cheery demeanor quickly melts away. Kaeya, even while buzzed, is quick to notice.

“Leave all the preparation to me,” he says. “I can ask Jean, and Venti…maybe even Amber to help out too. I want this all to work, because more than anything, I want to see the look on that bastard’s face when he realizes we’ve created an event so perfect that he’ll have no reason not to relax. He’ll be pissed.”

You laugh at that. “Okay, I feel bad leaving you to do everything, but…I trust you, if only because I know your need to see him pissed off is genuine.”

“Perfect,” he says. “You just need to meet me at the Winery at noon exactly 30 days from now.”

“30 days from now?” you blink, head tilting to the side. “Why--?”

“April 30th,” he responds, not bothering to explain when you don’t register the significance of the date. “You’ll see. Just be there.”

“Got it,” you nod. “April 30th.”

Kaeya hums, pleased that you won’t be forgetting anytime soon, and then leans in. Before you can register the movement—too busy thinking about your and Kaeya’s newly formed scheme—you feel a pair of lips press against your cheek.

Kaeya smiles as he inches back.

“Now, be safe in Liyue, alright?”

As annoying and flirtatious as Kaeya can be at times, you sense a sincerity in his words and his actions.

“I will,” you promise softly, and with that, Kaeya turns and disappears back into the city. Two days later you leave Mondstadt behind as you make your way to Liyue, and never once do you forget to count down the days each time the sun sets.

Exactly 30 days after your conversation with Kaeya, you wake up in a bed at the Wanshu Inn. The sun is just starting to peek over the horizon, and you feel the most rested you’ve felt in the last month of traversing all over Liyue. You assume it’s thanks to being able to sleep in a real bed—not a sleeping bag, in a tent, with one eye open in case any monsters come your way.

No, after accepting a commission for the Inn, they’d offered you mora as a reward, and immediately you’d turned around and given it right back.

“Can I…have a room for the night, instead?”

Thankfully, they’d been more than happy to oblige.

“Today’s the day!” Paimon exclaims as the two of you make your way out of Wanshu, and up the road to the North. “We get to see all our friends from Mondstadt! Aren’t you excited??”

“Of course I am!” you respond with a quiet laugh, eyes trailed on the path ahead. It will be a few hours walk to make it to the winery, but you should make it there by noon no problem.

“I’m just…a little worried. I hope Kaeya’s planning went alright…”

“Oh, don’t start worrying about silly stuff!” Paimon scolds you. “We’ll be there soon, so don’t start thinking bad things! Just trust Kaeya, okay?”

You look at her curiously.

“…do you trust Kaeya?”

Paimon stares blankly. Then, she speeds up the path, arm outstretched.

“Okay! Let’s get a move on!”

You make it through the mountain pass between Mondstadt and Liyue just as the sun hits its highest point in the warm spring sky. Across the lake, you can spot the Dawn Winery and a smile tugs at your lips.

While you’re learning to love Liyue, Mondstadt and its people had been the first to come into your life. For that reason, the familiar sights and sounds have you feeling just a bit more at ease.

“Look! There’s Kaeya!”

Paimon points up the path, and you spot Kaeya’s blue hair in the distance. There are other figures bustling around him, and judging by their outfits, you can only assume they’re employees of Dawn Winery.

Seems like Kaeya did manage to get Diluc’s people in on the surprise.

“Kaeyaaaaa~” Paimon cries as she floats on ahead, catching the Knights’ attention. He smiles charmingly at spotting you both.

“My favorite mysterious traveler and Paimon! Welcome back to Mondstadt.”

“Good to be back,” you respond with a smile as you make your way up the small set of steps. Your gaze sweeps across the winery, and you note the tables that have been set out on one end of the patio. On the other is a small wooden stage, and on either side of the entrance are long banquet tables.

“I see you actually planned something. I’m impressed.”

Kaeya looks seriously offended at the comment.

“What? You thought I would forget? Do you really think that little of me?” he sighs dramatically, but smiles when you roll your eyes and smack his arm.

“Well, you did good, Captain Kaeya, I have to admit.”

“Thank you,” he responds, turning to survey the progress of the winery workers. It’d taken up a chunk of his free time—getting this all planned—but hopefully the look of disbelief on Diluc’s face will make it all worthwhile.

“So,” you say, breaking the silence. “What is the plan?”

“Well,” Kaeya starts. He crosses his arms, looking up to the sun in the sky. “Master Diluc is away on a trip to Starfell Lake to meet with a potential vendor for the winery. He should be back at…eh…I’d say 3, normally, but my guess is he’ll make some pit stops on the road home to take care of some rouge slimes and hilichurls, so let’s go with 4.”

You breathe a laugh, realizing he’s right. “Okay, fair. So until then it’s just preparation here, I’m guessing. What are we doing about defending the city?”

“Jean asked Lisa to lead a training exercise with the rest of the Knights. An all-night patrol of both the outside and inside of the city walls—a “test” of their will-power.”

“So…trying not to fall asleep on the job?”

Kaeya smiles. “Maybe.”

“Well, so long as the city is being protected, I can’t say anything. Hopefully that will be enough to reassure Diluc.”

“If it’s not, we can just force-feed him a few glasses of wine.”

Speaking of, you watch as two of the winery workers roll out a HUGE barrel of wine. Apparently, there are no holds barred when it comes to throwing an event for their master…

“We’re also using protection for the winery,” Kaeya pipes up, turning to stare to the North. “Amber managed to talk to that wolf boy, Razor, and he agreed to keep an eye out across Wolvendom. Amber volunteered herself to keep tabs on the area between here and Springville, so I don’t think the Abyss Order will get away with trying anything tonight.”

You nod, surprised at the lengths Kaeya had gone to make this a perfect chance for Diluc to relax.

“…god he’s gonna hate us for this,” you sigh, holding your face in your hands. You care about Diluc so much it’s insane, and the only thing you want for him is to take a little break, but man he is gonna be pissed.

“There there,” Kaeya says, patting your back. “No sense worrying now—everything is already in motion. For now, why don’t you see if you can help the preparations in some way? Everything needs to be perfect for Master Diluc, after all.”

You shoot him a disgruntled look. “Ugh, it’s so weird when you call him that. Stop it.”

“I think he gets off on it,” Kaeya responds, an amused glint in his eyes. “Maybe you should try calling him that when the two of you are alone—see if it makes him blush.”

“I’ll hurt you,” you deadpan.

“Maybe I get off on that.”

Wow, he doesn’t miss a beat.

Snorting a laugh, you turn away from him and move to help the winery staff. In just a few hours, you’ll see Diluc for the first time in too long (although you won’t admit that to anyone), and you want to do what you can to make this evening great for him.

Everything goes swimmingly until Jean arrives just before 4pm—jogging up to you and Kaeya with a perplexed look on her face.

“I know how important it is for there to be guards in order to get Master Diluc to relax, but a large number of slimes were spotted near Windrise, and with the Knights of Favonius doing their training exercise tonight in the city, I had no one available to send except Amber,” she explains with a sigh, rubbing her fingers against her forehead.

Worry knots in your throat, eyes scanning the crowd of people that have already gathered. Many of the guests are employees of the winery and patrons of Angel Share that Diluc gets along with. Only a handful of the people present have Visions, but asking any of them to give up being a part of the fun to go and stand watch in the nearby hills sounds like a terrible thing to do.

“Well--,” Kaeya interrupts your thoughts, rolling one of his shoulders. “Guess I’ll have to take over. My dear friend doesn’t seem to enjoy seeing my face around here anyway, so I might as well—”

“No,” you interrupt him. “I’ll play guard.”

Both Kaeya and Jean pause.

“Y/N…,” Jean starts, looking torn. “You traveled all this way. Out of anyone here, you should get to stay and enjoy the festivities…”

“No, it’s okay—Diluc doesn’t even know I’m here, right? I can watch for enemies. You both stay here and enjoy yourselves.”

Paimon looks heartbroken. “Well…if you insist, but won’t you miss seeing Master Diluc?”

You smile at her, attempting to be reassuring. The idea of coming all this way and not getting to mingle with your friends certainly does make your heart ache, but the entire point of this event is to let Diluc relax, and have fun. So, long as he does, you’ll be happy.

“He’ll be here soon,” you respond. Jean and Kaeya notice how you avoid answering the question—instead taking a step back and looking towards the northeast. “I should get going.”

You run off without waiting for the others to comment. Paimon scurries after you, shouting something about how she’ll keep you company instead.

“Idiot,” Kaeya sighs as Jean shakes her head.

“Hey! Sorry I’m late!” Venti says, coming up behind them. He’s got a bottle of wine tucked under his arm and a bright smile on his face. His eyes scan the nearby area, and when he spots that someone is missing, he frowns.

“Wasn’t Y/N supposed to be here?”

You’ve just arrived at the Statue of The Seven when you hear a chorus of cheers from the Winery. Turning, you watch over the treetops as the intimately sized crowd raises their glasses—sharing a toast before the merry music begins—rolling over the hills.

“I guess Diluc just arrived,” Paimon surmises, face drawn into a pout. You can tell that she wants to be down there, joining in on all the fun, and you can’t say you don’t share the sentiment.

“Looks like he took the long way around,” you say, turning away from the winery, and seating yourself at the base of the statue. “Otherwise, we would have passed him on the way here.”

Paimon frowns at you, floating down to look you in the eyes.

“Why does it seem like you’re trying to avoid Master Diluc?”

“I’m not,” you respond with a huff. “It’s just easier this way.”

Paimon doesn’t buy it.

“You know, Kaeya offered to keep guard. I’m sure Master Diluc would prefer to have you at the festival, rather than him.”

“Even if they act like brats towards one another, they’re still…frienemies,” you say, for lack of a better term. Silently, you attempt to block out the jovial noises behind you. You don’t want to be focused on something that you’re missing out on.

Paimon pouts even harder at your argument, looking like she’ll start stomping her foot midair, but she keeps her mouth shut for now. Even if you won’t say it, she knows you’re sacrificing your own wants at the moment, and bickering with you won’t do anything to help.

So, instead she flies down and sits herself snuggly in your lap—determined to make you feel better.

“I feel like any Hilichurls in Mondstadt already know not to mess with you,” she says, changing the subject. “Do you think any will show up?”

You breathe a laugh.

“I hope not. But they are quite dumb.”

Diluc has to admit…he was not expecting to come back to the winery to find that a makeshift festival had been staged at his very own home.

And on his birthday, no less.

“Surprise!”

“Welcome home!”

“Happy birthday!”

An array of familiar faces greet him as he steps into view—caught on the path between the rows of grapes. Understandably, he’s speechless. He typically is aware of the happenings of his staff, and if an event had planned in Mondstadt, surely he’d have gotten word, but…here he is, and here they are, and at the front of the pack is a certain Cryo-wielding Knight, grinning ear to ear.

Of course he had something to do with this.

“To Diluc!” Kaeya cheers, holding up his mug.

“To Diluc!” the rest of the guests’ chorus, and as if on cue, the music starts.

Diluc, perplexed, remains where he is. At least, until Jean and Venti make their way to him.

“I hope you don’t hate the surprise,” Jean speaks, offering him a glass of wine. “We just…wanted you to be able to relax for once. We know how busy you always are, and I also wanted to thank you for your help with Dvalin.”

“We?” Diluc echoes, taking the glass from her. He stares at it for a moment, hesitating, but then he remembers that Kaeya is here, and he takes a long swig.

“Yep! Me, Jean, Kaeya, Y/N--,” Venti doesn’t notice the way Diluc’s eyes light up with interest at the sound of your name. “—and even the people who frequent Angel’s Share, or work at Dawn Winery! We all thought it would be nice to hold something like this for you! And hey—no better time than your birthday.”

Diluc is silent for a moment, his scarlet eyes scanning over the crowd.

“Well,” he finally responds, apparently not having found what he’d been looking for. “If anything, I’m surprised. I should have suspected something was happening when I noticed the Knights patrolling the city in full force on my way back…”

Jean laughs—reaching out and giving his arm a friendly pat.

“Just try to enjoy yourself, alright? For one night.”

Diluc sighs heavily, but he can’t ignore the efforts everyone had put into throwing this mini-festival for him. Doing so would make him just as bad as anyone in the Abyss Order.

“Fine.”

Venti beams a smile, reaching out and snagging his wrist. Diluc’s eyes widen in shock.

“Good! Now let’s get you some food, and some more alcohol!”

For what it’s worth, Kaeya really does try to lay off the teasing. It’s Diluc’s birthday, after all. He can manage to be civil for a few hours, right? Right.

So, the cavalry captain keeps his distance—enjoys his alcohol and female companions at least 20ft away from Diluc. He dances along with the music, cracks jokes with the crowd, and flirts his way into more than a few women’s hearts. (And maybe even a man or two).

However, even while doing so, Kaeya quietly keeps tabs on the birthday boy. He is far from blind to the way Diluc’s gaze searches the grounds every so often, hoping to catch a glimpse of someone he’s sure not to find.

And yet, that doesn’t stop him from doing so time after time. Poor bastard.

Sighing, Kaeya stares past the winery, into the northeastern hills. He can see the light from the Anemo Statue beaming into the sky. A silent beacon of where to find you.

“You know,” Kaeya says, saddling up next to Diluc. He has decided to break his imaginary 20ft rule for the first time tonight—leaning back against the winery wall. Diluc is standing in front of him, eating a skewer, and blatantly avoiding making eye contact.

“It was Y/N’s idea—all of this. They wanted you to be able to relax for once.”

The redhead pauses for a millisecond at the mention of your name, before he quickly resumes chewing. Kaeya takes the opportunity to continue talking.

“I decided to help out, considering they were leaving for Liyue. Oh, and also because I wanted to see the look on your face.”

At that, Diluc shoots him a glare.

“Are you pleased with yourself?”

“Very,” Kaeya grins, swirling the wine in his glass. “You’re on your third drink, you’ve had two plates of food, and I’ve seen you smile nearly half a dozen times—which I’m pretty sure is a daily record.”

Diluc glares harder. Kaeya smiles wider.

“You’re enjoying yourself and hate me for it. This is the perfect outcome.”

Rolling his eyes, Diluc tosses the empty wooden skewer into a nearby trash bin and turns away. Kaeya is less than a step behind him—following Diluc as he makes his way to the edge of the crowd. As the two distance themselves from the heart of the festivities, Kaeya can spot the serenity swirling in the winery master’s colorful orbs. However, beneath it all, he sees a twinge of disappointment.

Once again, he finds his attention turning to nearby Anemo Statue.

Silence stretches. Then—

“I got you a present.”

Diluc cocks an eyebrow.

“I hope it’s not another vase.”

“No, that beauty is one of a kind,” Kaeya responds with a snort. “The issue is, my present…is playing hard to get. If you want to be able to unwrap it, you need to go to the Statue of The Seven.”

Now, Diluc just looks confused.

“You…left your present at the statue?”

“Actually, I think it’s hiding there.”

Worry etches into Diluc’s handsome face. Kaeya rolls his eyes.

“Why not go and see, Master Diluc? No harm in a little walk to get some fresh air, right?”

Diluc doesn’t grace him with a response. Instead, he stares at the blue-haired Knight with genuine concern. At least, until a small figure floats down the hillside and into view.

“Is that--?”

“Paimon!” Kaeya greets, not showing the least bit of surprise. “Wh—”

“Can’t talk! Gotta find a bathroom!” she yells, floating right past the two and towards the front door of the manner. Diluc stares after her, wondering if his eyes are playing tricks on him. However, when his gaze shifts to Kaeya, and he finds the Knight sipping on his wine, all while shooting him a teasing side-eye, Diluc knows what’s waiting for him at the statue.

“How long were you planning to hide from me up here?”

The sound of Diluc’s voice sends a shiver straight up your spine. Your entire body freezes, head stiffly turning to look at the man who now stands only a few feet behind you.

“I…I wasn’t hiding,” you say, jumping to your feet. You attempt to avoid his gaze, but his crimson orbs pull you in—refusing to let you look away.

Heat rises on your cheeks.

“I just…Amber was supposed to guard this area, but something came up, and I decided that since you didn’t know I was back, it wouldn’t be a loss, you know?”

Diluc’s brows furrow at your comment, but he says nothing. You cough, hoping to ease some of the tension.

“…how did you know I was up here, anyway?”

“Paimon floated down the hill from this direction,” he responds. He finally breaks eye contact, glancing up at the stars overhead. “Also, Kaeya told me that he’d left me a birthday present by the statue.”

For a moment, the cogs in your brain grind to a halt. A…what?

“It’s your birthday?!”

Diluc’s eyes widen innocently at your outburst. He looks confused, but judging by the way you’re quickly flushing red and looking bewildered, he can only assume you truly had no idea that today was his birthday.

“…you planned this event and didn’t even know the significance of the day?”

“Kaeya picked the day!” you respond, groaning into your hands. If you had known it was his birthday, you at least would have gotten a present for him! Something nice from Liyue! “I just wanted to have a festival where you could actually relax, and not be playing the hero to make up for the Knights slack! Ahhhh~”

You crouch down, holding your head between your hands. Dammit, if only you had known!

“I’m so sorry,” you finally say after a moment. “I didn’t know. I don’t have a present for you.”

If you weren’t freaking out, maybe you would have noticed the breath of laughter behind you, or the sound of footsteps making their way towards you through the thick grass. It’s not until Diluc crouches down in front of you and tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear that you notice just how close he’s gotten.

“You’re present enough,” he says quietly, sincerely. His eyes are fond, his lips turned up into a soft smile, and for the first time in 30 days, you feel your heart skip a beat.

His fingers skim behind your ear—lingering longer than they need to—and you lift your hand—placing it atop his own and trapping it there.

“I missed you,” you admit, unable to look at him. “I didn’t want to hide myself away up here, but I thought it would be the best thing to do. I just wanted you to have a good time.”

“I am,” he reassures you, his gloved fingers curling around your own, and giving them a squeeze. He presses back to his full height, tugging you to your feet along with him. And when he releases your hand, you immediately find yourself missing his warmth.

“It just would have been nice to know that you were here. I could have snuck away sooner to come and visit.”

“Your friends are all down there.”

“But you’re here,” he immediately reminds you, the tips of his ears turning red. “And you also matter.”

The “to me” is left unspoken, but is certainly implied.

You chew the inside of your cheek. His admission—while it certainly causes your heart to race—has you feeling a bit worried.

“…are you drunk?”

The glare Diluc sends your way is telling enough, and you quickly try to backpedal.

“It—It’s just!” you spring forward, placing yourself in front of him just as he turns to leave. Your palms reach forward to press against his hard chest, effectively keeping him from going another step.

“I’m not used to…feelings…from you,” you admit, your thoughts coming out in a jumble. You don’t want him to go anywhere. He can’t just say something like that and then walk away. Doesn’t he know what he’s doing to your poor little heart??

“Of course, I’m not saying I don’t enjoy you opening up to me. I definitely do. I want you to be able to talk to me, and trust me. It was just…unexpected, okay?”

Your fingers curl into his black coat. Your eyes trace the checked pattern of his shirt.

“I…I like that I matter to you.”

You finally find the courage to look up at him, and damn, he’s so beautiful. You’re not even sure when it was that you fell for him. Perhaps it was when he faced the Abyss Order head-on at Mondstadt’s gate without anyone knowing, or when he followed you into Dvalin’s layer and fought alongside you for the first time. Really, you have no idea, but the fact of the matter is: you have feelings for him—feelings that you’ve been attempting to ignore.

“I…like you,” you admit, no more than a whisper.

On a quest for your lost sibling, you shouldn’t have time for inklings of love. Or, at least, that’s what you tell yourself. It feels selfish—falling for Diluc, of all people, because charming as he is, he’s also stubborn, and closed-off.

You know this, and yet, you can’t stop yourself from yearning.

Unfortunately, you’re not sure he feels the same wa—

“Mmph—"

Diluc’s lips on yours is what manages to stop your worrying.

He wraps an arm around your waist, holding you close as his free hand cups your cheek. While at first you go stiff with shock, you quickly melt into him. He tastes like sweet wine, and smells like firewood, and gosh, he’s oh-so-warm.

“Mm,” you can’t help the appreciative groan, pressing yourself closer to him in a bid to soak up all the heat you can. Since the sun had set, the chilling air had soaked into your skin, and while you hadn’t realized it before, you certainly notice it now.

As your lips connect—once, twice, and again—a part of Diluc’s brain acknowledges that he should grace you with a response. That he should tell you how he feels. But…he’s not exactly good at that, and actions speak louder than words, right?

So, he tilts your head up—deepens the kiss. His brows furrow as he soaks up any sounds that escape you, internally conflicted by his actions. He’s not used to doing this--feeling this way. He never intended to feel anything for you—to feel sad when you left, and excited when you returned, but…here he is, and Barbatos be damned if he was going to let you slip away now.

“Diluc,” you pant, cheeks flushed as you manage to nudge the man away. As much as you enjoy his kisses, you need air.

“Sorry…,” he says, looking bashful. His cheeks are rosy, and his eyes nervous. He had acted on pure desire, without considering your feelings, or how his actions might be perceived.

“This isn’t like me,” he continues after a moment with a sigh. “I’m sorry.”

Diluc attempts to take a step back, but your grip on his jacket holds him steady.

“No, don’t be sorry,” you say. You give him a gentle tug—drawing him into you once again. Your eyes fall to his lips. “Just…shut up, and kiss me again.”

Diluc can see the desire in your eyes, and he’s not used to such an emotion being directed his way. Sure, he’s aware that a few select citizen’s perhaps have affections for him, but this is the first time anything has felt…mutual.

It’s terrifying.

Leaning in, he captures your lips once more—not hesitating to slot your mouths together and deepen the kiss. And when you make a contented sound, your fingers tracing up his chest and moving to wrap around his neck, Diluc immediately forgets about his inner conflict.

Right now, he refuses to waste the time he has with you. He can overthink his emotions later.

Wanting to be closer—to feel more of you—Diluc briefly breaks the kiss. He leans down, wrapping his arms beneath your thighs, and hefts you upwards. You make a sound of surprise, more heat rising on your face as you feel your back rest against the Anemo statue.

“This really isn’t like you,” you say, your palms moving to cup his face. Your thumbs brush over his cheeks, and you silently carve this version of him into your mind. His hair tousled and cheeks red—his body flush against yours. This is a Diluc you never want to forget.

“Shall I stop?” he asks, voice quiet. You immediately shake your head, drawing him into another kiss.

“No…it’s just a side of you I’m discovering for the first time. I don’t dislike it at all.”

You feel him smile against your lips.

“Good.”

Things begin to blur after that. The two of you forget about the festival being held in Diluc’s honor just a short way down the hill. You don’t consider that people are likely looking for the master of the winery—wondering exactly where he’d gone off to. No, the only thing the two of you think about is the feel of each other’s bodies pressed together, and the heated kisses you exchange.

Quiet gasps and moans begin to fill the area around the statue—your hands wandering against Diluc’s torso, and his lips moving to trail kisses against the sensitive skin of your throat. It’s very possible that things would have continued to get even more intimate…had someone not interrupted.

“I see you like my present.”

You can almost tangibly feel Diluc’s annoyance.

“I’ll kill you.”

Kaeya chooses to ignore that.

“It’s been over half an hour. People are starting to get worried about the birthday boy.”

“Let them worry.”

“No, hey, c’mon,” you say, brushing his hair away from his eyes and catching his attention. You smile sweetly, nodding your head towards his residence. “You should get back. This whole event is for you, after all.”

With a sigh, he loosens his grip on you—his hands moving to hold your waist as your feet touch the ground for the first time in minutes.

“Fine, but only if you come too.”

You frown. “But…the whole point of me being out here is to keep guard so you can rela—”

“I won’t be able to relax knowing you’re out here,” he argues, and the look on his face tells you he won’t be taking “no” for an answer.

“Okay, okay, fine—guess I have no choice,” Kaeya breaks the tension, sighing somewhat dramatically. For the first time, you note that there’s a bottle of dandelion wine tucked under his arm.

“You two lovebirds go enjoy the festivities. I’ll play guard until the night winds down. I’ve already had my share in the fun anyway.”

“Perfect,” Diluc says, grabbing your wrist and tugging you away. Helplessly being dragged toward the winery by its master, you at least manage to turn and mouth a “thank you” to Kaeya. Because despite your determination to guard over the area, you really are looking forward to being able to spend some time at the party with Diluc and your friends.

Kaeya flashes you a smile in response, his lips innocently parting as he mouths back some words of his own.

“Use protection.”

Sometimes, you really hate him. Tonight though…

You glance to the redhead in front of you, moving your hand so your fingers slot through his own. He slows his stride—allowing you to catch up—and then gives your hand a squeeze.

You can’t help but smile.

Tonight, you can’t find it in yourself to be mad. Not when Diluc looks so happy.

#diluc x reader #diluc x traveler #diluc x gender neutral reader #diluc #diluc fic #genshin impact #6k of word vomit just bc my brain is a dumpster fire for genshin rn #genshin impact fic #kaeya #writing kaeya's lines was pretty much my favorite thing ajdhlaks

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jj-babebank · 3 years

Text

Room 107 // chapter I // JJ Maybank (smut)

I have started my first JJ story, which will consist of several chapters that I will constantly be updating. The story picks up where season 2 leaves us. TW: Contains mentions of drugs, alcohol, cigarettes, sex and violence.

Chapter 1 can be found below. Oh, and - please feel free to submit requests, I tend to write a lot ;)

Enjoy xx

Chapter 1 - La Guardiana

Days had passed since the Pogues had last seen civilisation, maybe even weeks. The sun was hotter than ever, with close to no wind to mask the warmth. JJ was taking this particularly badly.

“I’m so done with eating bananas, man,” he moaned, kicking a pebble as he trotted a little behind the rest of his friends, “Can’t we just stumble across an oasis or something and end up in, like, an actual city?”

As if on command, his friends stopped in their tracks, the girls awing and the guys smiling happily.

“We just might, JJ,” said John B, looking at the city unfolding itself in front of them in the distance, “We just might.”

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

“I’m actually starving,” laughed Sarah, nudging John B’s arm, “Don’t tease!” “Hey, so am I,” he cooed, “First joint we find, we’re going in for food.” Kiara rolled her eyes, “As much as I would love to accept that offer, let me remind you that we have no money.” Sarah nodded, “Mhm, nothing at all.” “Nada,” John B looked at the two girls sternly, “And when has that ever stopped us exactly?” Kiara rolled her eyes once again, smirking at her friend, “Alright, I suppose a good meal would give me the energy I’d need to run a marathon after getting caught not paying.”

The group continued walking down a not too busy street, studying the buildings, looking for a restaurant, cafe, diner - anything, really. They hadn’t had a proper meal in God knows how long and they were famished. They couldn’t help but notice how all the buildings on the street were of the same height - no more than four storeys each, all painted in different colours. If they hadn’t known any better, they’d have thought that they had left the United States of America altogether, although one thing was certain - they were definitely not in the Outer Banks anymore.

The street wasn’t crowded at all, there were hardly any cars or people lurking about. JJ concluded that this was probably an unpopular area of whichever city they were in. This would also explain the lack of supermarkets and restaurants. He really wanted to ask his friends to stop for a little break - his throat was so dry and his legs could barely hold him up anymore, but he knew better. The longer they walk, the faster they’ll find what they are looking for. Having no indicator of the time on them wasn’t helping either, hell, they could have been walking for 12 hours for all he knew, and with no result.

“Maybe we should just ask someone,” Pope suggested, “Neither of us is a wanted criminal anymore, I’d say we have nothing to worry about.” John B smirked at his friend’s remark, but ultimately agreed to ask the first person they ran into where the nearest food joint was. Turns out, they were standing right in front of it.

“La Cubanita Hotel and Restaurant” it spelled out in bold, red letters. The building was narrow and a light shade of blue, totally contrasting the obnoxiously coloured sign planted in front of it. Much like the rest of the buildings on the street, it had no more than four floors, each consisting of a row of Spanish windows with brightly coloured frames. The Pogues looked at each other with a hint of uncertainty before John B lead the way into the building.

On the inside it looked like a typical diner - tiled floor, red and blue booths, a long bar accompanied by bar stools and, cheesily enough, a boombox. JJ guessed that the way to the hotel was through the back, but he didn’t put too much thought into it. The place seemed dead, with only one of the booths being busy. It was either an off-peak hour or this city was actually a ghost town.

The group sat at one of the booths on the other side of where the other people were and JJ took a second to observe them. A group of bikers, all wearing stereotypical biker outfits from leather jackets down to bandanas. They were in their mid 50s and were all smoking indoors, drinking what looked like whiskeys, despite of the blazing sun still very much being out. JJ had to give it to them though, they did look pretty darn cool if he did say so himself, and those cigarettes looked eerily appetising to him at this given moment. Oh, what he’d give to have a sip of whatever they were having and a long, much needed drag of one of their cigarettes. He was so lost in his daydream, he barely realised Kiara poking him in the arm.

“JJ,” she urged, “Waitress is here!” In this moment JJ turned his attention to the new subject in question, their waitress. She was standing at the foot of their booth, wearing her uniform, black and red, holding a pen and a notepad, chewing a piece of gum, waiting for his order. Could this place get any more stereotypical? JJ thought to himself. “So what’s it gonna be, handsome?” She said, not even bothering to look in his direction. “Uh…” JJ fumbled with the menu, “I’ll just have whatever they’re having.” He said, pointing at the bikers in the booth across from theirs. The woman rolled her eyes, popping her bubblegum. She took the rest of the Pogues’ orders before disappearing somewhere behind the bar. JJ followed her with his eyes, blocking out the conversation his friends were currently having. The waitress came back out of what he assumed to be the kitchen and handed the paper with their orders to another girl behind the bar. JJ guessed she was the barmaid, and boy was she a bit of him.

She was wearing the same uniform as her colleague, although JJ had to admit - it looked a whole lot better on her, at least from what he could see from above the bar. Her hair was long and brown, half of it tied up effortlessly, and slightly messily, although JJ didn’t mind one bit. He watched her as she took the paper from her colleague and went to fetch the drinks written on it. He couldn’t make out what exactly colour her eyes were, and quite frankly - he didn’t really care, she was gorgeous regardless of what her eyes looked like, and she looked around his age. Had the sun and heat gotten to his head, or was it just the fact that he hadn’t touched a female in so long, he didn’t know, but if there was one thing JJ Maybank was notorious for, it was his ability to pull any girl his heart desired effortlessly. This is why he excused himself from the table and, albeit his friends’ confused looks and comments, he made his way towards the bar, sliding into one of the stools directly across from the girl.

She looked up at him, “Can I help you?” “Brown…” JJ mumbled to himself. “Excuse me?” She said, this time sounding slightly annoyed. Her eyes were brown, JJ thought, brown and sexy. He coughed, trying to compose himself and gave her his signature Maybank stare. It worked wonders back home, surely it would work wonders now again. “Name’s JJ,” he said suavely, “I’m not from around here-“ “Clearly,” she muttered, picking up a bottle of whiskey. JJ assumed it was for him, “Aren’t you a little young to be drinking, JJ?”

JJ smirked, “What can I say, I have the face of a boy but the body and mind of a man.” The girl snickered under her nose, “Sure. Well since you’re here, make yourself useful and bring your drinks over to your friends,” she gave him a fake smile, placing a tray with their orders on it in front of him, after which she turned her back to him and walked towards the back of the bar. JJ was too busy observing her behind to notice the other waitress standing next to him, her arms crossed in front of her chest. “Should I take that or will you?” She said, waking JJ up from his everlasting daydream. “Oh, uh, don’t sweat it…” he said, picking up the tray and carrying it over to his friends’ booth. “So much for customer service,” Sarah laughed. “And to think my dad says I’m hostile to our customers,” Kiara muttered out. JJ took his seat next to her, his eyes never leaving the bar. “La Guardiana,” Pope read out loud, “This place is called La Guardiana, and apparently we’re somewhere in Florida.” “Florida?” John B said, confusion dripping through his words. Pope nodded, pointing at some text on the bottom of the menu.

La Cubanita Hotel & Restaurant **, 97 Diego’s Crescent, La Guardiana, FL

“Holy shit, we’re in Florida!” John B whisper yelled. Sarah laughed at his reaction, “Calm down now, Sancho, let’s not draw any attention to us,” “Yeah, you might wanna tell Casanova here that,” teased Pope, nodding his head in JJ’s direction, “Was it really worth it to potentially blow our cover just to talk to that girl?” JJ snapped at Pope, “Hey, man, just ‘cuz you don’t have the nuts to go over there and talk to her yourself,” “Yeah, I really want to attract the staff’s attention, you know, even more than we already are, seeing as we’re the only other busy table at this place.” “Your food,” the waitress from earlier was back with some of the Pogues’ orders. They waited for her to be out of earshot and JJ spoke up, “Relax, P, I bet you I can charm the pants off that girl and we won’t even need to sneak out without paying!” Pope gave JJ a fake smile, “Mhm, I’m sure she’s gonna be so deep under your spell she won’t even notice us leaving without paying a cent." JJ rolled his eyes, picking up a toothpick from the table and placing it between his teeth. “Might even offer us a place to crash, you know, because she’ll be so captivated by you.” Pope continued to tease. “Yeah, chicks totally dig this whole I’m homeless and I haven’t properly showered in like 15 days look you're going for,” Sarah joined in on the teasing. Kiara laughed and added, “Yeah, and the bit that’s gonna fully seal the deal for her is that you have literally nothing to offer her, like 0 dollars.” Everyone was laughing while JJ just crossed his arms in front of his chest and turned to look out the window, “Talk all you want, guys, but once we get that gold back, you’ll see who’ll dig what.” “The rest of your order,” he recognised the girl’s voice. It was her bringing their food over this time. She placed John B’s plate in front of him and then made her way around the table, next to where JJ was sat. She handed him his plate and bent down slightly, so that her lips were on the same level as JJ’s ear, “Next time you decide to share your criminal plans, you might wanna talk a bit more quietly.” She whispered, setting his cutlery down for him, “Oh, and, you might be charming wherever you come from, but your friend’s right. That shit doesn’t work around here.” She said, patting him on the shoulder before walking away. JJ didn’t waste time sitting around to listen to his friends pass comments about what had just happened, he downed his whiskey and practically chased after the girl. “I’m guessing you’ll want another one?” She said, not even turning around. JJ wondered how she knew that he was there. When she turned to face him, the bottle of whiskey was in her hand. “Let’s see… Do I pour you another one and close my eyes about you planning to leave without paying, or do I do what anyone else in my position would do and call the police on you? Hmm…” she pretended to think, her eyes never leaving JJ’s now panicking ones. “Please don’t call the cops,” he blurted out, the whiskey hitting his brain and making him stress out more than he wanted to admit to, “Look, we - we were in a boat accident, we don’t even know how we got here, hell - we didn’t even know where we were up until 10 minutes ago! And we - we don’t have any documents on us, we don’t have any sort of identification, what would you -“ “Relax, kid,” the girl smirked, picking up two glasses and pouring a generous amount of whiskey in both of them, “I won’t rat you out.” She said, handing JJ one of the glasses and raising hers for a toast. JJ clinked his glass with hers, a large smile growing on his face, his dimples becoming very prominent, “Thank you, really… That means a lot.” The girl took a moment to observe JJ, then to look at his friends having a heated conversation at their booth, all of them practically stuffing their faces with food in an almost animalistic sort of way. Could this boy really be telling the truth? Could these kids have been lost at sea with no place to go? She looked back at JJ who was also looking at her. Despite the smile plastered on his face, she could clearly see that he was extremely nervous still. “Hey,” she said, “I told you to relax, didn’t I. I won’t charge you for your food, in fact… I might even have a place for you to sleep and clean up tonight.” JJ’s eyes grew wider at her words, “You what?” She leaned in closer to him over the bar and lowered her voice so that he would be the only one to hear, “Hotel upstairs, my aunt owns it. She’s currently out of town with my cousin. Should be back next Thursday. I think I can fit you and your friends in. You just have to promise to be on your best behaviour.” She said, pulling away and taking another sip from her drink. JJ couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It was too good to be true. She was hot and she was willing to help? This must have been his lucky day. Sarah could suck it, and so could the others. Clearly this girl was into him. Why else would she be offering to help? “So, uh, what’s in it for me?” He asked, a hint of mischief in his voice. The girl opened her mouth, but before she could speak, the other waitress groaned from behind her. “Samara, how many times do I have to tell you?” Her croaky voice rang. The girl, who JJ had just learned was called Samara, rolled her eyes and repeated with her colleague, “No drinking on the job, yeah yeah, I know. But Heather’s gone and so is Conner, so who can tell me what to do, really?” She said, finishing what was left of her whiskey, “Besides, Georgia, as far as I’m concerned, since they’re both gone, that leaves me in charge, no? Now get back to work,” she said, making her colleague roll her eyes at her. Samara turned around to face JJ again, giving him a wink, before disappearing into the kitchen. JJ couldn’t believe his luck. He swung his arm over the bar and picked up the bottle of whiskey to pour himself one more drink before returning to his friends. “Guys-“ JJ tried getting their attention. “So what are we supposed to do now? We’re totally screwed!” “They’re gonna call the police on us, hell, they probably already have! The cops could be on their way!” “Guys!” JJ yelled, catching even the bikers’ attention. His friends looked up at him, worry filling all of their eyes. “You’ll never believe what I’m about to tell you, oh, and Sarah? You can eat your words.” He smirked before telling them what had just happened. “Hold on,” said Kiara, her face revealing her confusion, “So this random girl in this random place just randomly said that we can crash here until when?” “Next Thursday, or was it Tuesday? What day is it today?” JJ scratched his head. “JJ!” Kiara slapped his arm, “What if this is a trap? It sounds too good to be true doesn’t it? Like, what’s in it for her? We don’t even know her! What if she’s a murderer or something?” “She’s right, you know,” Cleo chimed in. “She is,” said John B, “But we have nothing to lose, literally.” Pope nodded, “I’d usually agree with Kie, but John B’s right. We have nothing to lose. And what if she calls the police? What could even happen then? We get put in jail for agreeing to sleep in a hotel for free? Come on, guys, I’m sure we can all agree that a bar of soap and a normal bathroom would do us good. I mean, we stink.” Everyone laughed at Pope’s remark before Kiara turned to JJ again, “So what’s the plan?” Realisation just struck JJ that he didn’t in fact know what the plan was. Samara had told him virtually nothing about how any of this would go down. Where were they supposed to meet? Was she going to take them to their rooms? Would they all be sharing one room? He was so busy thinking about how all of this would go down, he barely noticed Samara herself passing him a note. It was taken out of her colleague, who JJ now knew to be Georgia’s notepad. The note read in messy handwriting:

Bring your friends to the lobby. Straight down the hallway by the bathrooms.

JJ turned the piece of paper towards his friends and they all got up, rushing towards the hallway by the bathrooms.

#outer banks #jj maybank #obx #pope heyward #kiara carrera #jj one shot #jj smut #obx smut #sarah cameron #john b #jj x oc #netflix #love #smut

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young-dumb-and-vaccinated · 3 years

Text

Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 5

Golf

Hannibal and cult girl have a long-overdue conversation about their future.

@wisesandwichshark

Trigger warnings: slight emetophobia, threats of violence, workplace sexual harassment, sexualization of a minor, body-shaming, ED

"[F/N], wait!" Anna called after you, snatching your arm in both hands.

You pulled your arm away and seriously held back the urge to smack her across the face. "What? What could you possibly have to say?"

"You can't just storm out of a funeral like you did my wedding!" She protested. She said this as if you leaving her wedding after being purposefully triggered was the worst affront to her existence to ever happen to her. Given her sheltered life, it very likely was.

She was looking for remorse and you had none to give. "Watch me."

You shoved the heavy doors open, only to find that the room was silent. Everyone's eyes were on you. Hundreds of eavesdroppers who saw your life as their soap opera suddenly caught a glimpse of the defiant, ungrateful granddaughter.

Their faces began to loosen and they started to go back about their business. Just when you thought it was of their own volition, you felt Hannibal's hand on your shoulder. You realized you were witnessing the effect his stony glare had on the room.

You grinned and watched the crowd part in your path. For a moment, you knew what true power felt like, even if it was just vicarious.

"Why won't you give your poor grandmother what she wants?" A particularly bold onlooker blurted out. "If I had a daughter like you, I'd beat some sense into you."

Hannibal fixed his gaze on the man, but you beat him to it.

"If I had a father like you, I'd put you in a home." You snapped back.

The path to the door seemed to stretch further and further away. By the time you reached it, you were practically tugging Hannibal's arm out of its socket.

Outside, the golf course slowly turned white as larger and larger clumps of snow fell from the clouds. In the absence of sunlight, the ocean was black as ink. You suddenly felt very lightheaded. You let go of Hannibal’s hand and clutched your forehead. The courtyard began to spin.

Hannibal gently guided you to a nearby bench before you could collapse. “Darling, are you okay?”

You knew it wasn’t what he meant, but your physical wellbeing was far from your mind. “I don’t think I’ve ever been okay even once in my life.”

“You know what I mean, [F/N].” His voice was firm. “We can talk about the will in a moment, but I need to know that you’re not sick.”

You wordlessly scooted closer to him, allowing him to examine you.

He removed his glove and placed his bare hand on your forehead. “You are a little warm.”

You saw what he was trying to do. You felt a bit comforted by it, but needed to assure him that you weren’t sick. “It’s twenty-five degrees outside. I think I’m going to feel a little warm comparatively.”

“Weren’t you nauseated this morning?” He asked, feeling your cheek with the back of his hand.

You released a breath, which froze as soon as it hit the air. “That’s what I said so I didn’t have to say what it really was.”

Hannibal clicked his tongue. “Menstrual cramps?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Those.��

“I was a surgeon before I was a therapist, my love.” He reminded you with a soft smile. “I know what menstruation is.”

You chuckled. “Yeah, I should hope so.”

“This is a lovely country club.” Hannibal said after a moment of taking in the view. “Not exactly to my tastes, but the view of the ocean is beautiful.”

You leaned back in your seat. “It gets old after a while. But I always preferred seeing the golf course all snowed over.”

“Because it meant you didn’t have to spend your school holiday doing free labor for Beatrice, right?” He asked.

“Yep.” You said, folding your hands into your armpits to keep them from freezing up.

Theresa was seventeen, Anna was fourteen and you were ten.

Theresa learned how to drive a drink cart before she could drive a car. She was the only one allowed to make tips, so you coveted her job. You wouldn’t have, if you knew what all those disgusting old men were saying to her as the money passed into her hand. It shocked you, how many of the club members knew the age of consent off the top of their heads. Grandma made her wear tank tops and barely-passing-for-shorts shorts. She said it was empowering to use her ‘blossoming womanhood’ to make money.

Anna was a student athlete in middle school. She ran track and field and brought gold home to a struggling athletics department. She was made to carry bags of clubs that weighed more than she did. Grandma reduced her to a beast of burden. She said it was to work off all those carbs. That one day, she might receive the honor of taking Theresa’s place on the drink cart, and that she too could be ogled at by men four times her age. But only if she made up for all that weight she had the audacity to put on.

You were a blank slate. A tablet to be written upon. Grandma decided that she would put you in your place before you could develop a healthy sense of self. You fished balls out of the water trap. Grimy, disgusting golf balls that would just be thrown away regardless. It was Sisyphean, spending grueling hours in the summer sun, collecting perfectly useable golf balls, only to see them tossed out without a second thought.

“Hannibal?” You said, bringing an end to your pensive silence.

“Yes?” He answered.

You kept your eyes facing forward. “I’m really sorry that Beatrice took away the opportunity to have this conversation in our own time.”

“You are not responsible for your grandmother’s actions, [F/N].” He said, softly.

“But I am responsible for getting you involved.” You bit back a sob. “You’re like, the best thing that has ever happened to me. But every time I try to look forward, my past drags me backwards. And now it’s dragging you down with me.”

"You've clawed your way out before." He assured you. "You can do it again."

You forced a laugh. "I guess the trick is to stop telling myself that it'll be the last time."

"Would you like to have that conversation now?" He posed.

You shook your head. "You already know my stance."

"Your stance is that you don't know." He corrected.

"So what's yours?" You said, realizing you only talked about this as a doctor and patient. Never as a couple.

He looked away from you. "In the affirmative. Strongly so."

"I didn't realize you had strong feelings either way." You answered.

"Just because I don't talk about them unless asked, doesn't mean they don't exist."

"And you want to do it with me?" You asked. "Or just, in general? Like, someday?"

"Darling, I am not in the habit of planning my life in abstracts like 'someday'." He admitted. "I know what I want, I know what I don't."

"Well," You said, stretching out your legs. "What does it look like, to you?"

"We get married this summer." He recounted. "I whisk you away to Italy for a romantic honeymoon. Then, you return to school. You finish your doctorate. Once you've established yourself as an authority, gotten a job, then we settle down. We'll have a child."

You felt yourself smiling. You rested your head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around you and held you tight.

"I like that. I like it a lot." You whispered. "But you know that means we probably won't get any money, right?"

Hannibal laughed. "We don't need the money."

"I know." You conceded. "But it would be nice to just... burn this whole place to the ground."

He tightened his embrace. "That could still be arranged."

"Please don't buy the golf course just so I can destroy it." You pleaded through laughs.

"Goodness, no." He shook his head. "Who said anything about buying it? I was thinking about some good, old-fashioned arson."

#hannibal lecter #hannibal x you #hannibal x reader #hannibal nbc #cult girl 2 #cult girl doctorate #cult girl

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starryeyedweeb · 3 years

Text

Walking In On Your Fave Anime Blondes Singing Along to Dolly Parton’s “Dumb Blonde”

Content Includes: Honestly, this could be read as either platonic or romantic- it’s basically borderline crack meant to give you a smile and some laughs. All underaged characters are aged up to 18+. Gender neutral reader, some language

Characters Included: Armin Arlert, Kurapika Kurta, Hawks/Takami Keigo, Tsukishima Kei, Gojou Satoru, Bakugou Katsuki

“Just because I’m blonde, don’t think I’m dumb. Because this dumb blonde ain’t nobody’s fool.”

Armin

This is actually his power song

Before important meetings and strategy sessions where he’s slated be a big presenter, you’ll always hear him mumbling the same words over and over again under his breath, but you can never make out what they are

Until one day when you’re able to connect the dots

One such meeting was coming up, and you leave for it before Armin does

He had just told you that he’s not quite ready to leave yet, but doesn’t explain why

You don’t think much about it and carry on, until you realize that you left a part of your harness at home and have to turn back

As you walk back through the door, you notice the sound of singing coming from his bedroom

The voice is distinctively Armin’s, and seeing as you’ve never heard him sing before, you’re actually quite excited

You sneak in as quietly as possible, and much to your amusement, you find him singing to himself in the mirror, pointing back at himself and belting the words almost aggressively

“Because this dumb blonde ain’t nobody’s fool!”

You wanted to sneak away and pretend you never saw anything, but you can’t resist bursting out into laughter

He jumps around and yelps, his face turning cherry red

“Y/N! I thought you left! I, um...I- this was...”

“Oh, my god.” A realization dawns on you. “Is that what you’re always whispering under your breath when you’re nervous?”

“Um...yeah. It just makes me feel stronger, I guess. I know, it’s so stupid...”

“No, it’s so cute! I promise,” you assure him. “And it’s fitting.”

“Really?”

“Of course! Even though you’re blonde, there’s not a dumb bone in your body.” You wrap him in a hug. “And you definitely aren’t anybody’s fool. Never let yourself be convinced otherwise.”

Kurapika

He’s had a bad day at work.

A really bad day.

He bursts through the front door one evening, eyes bright crimson, absolutely raving about how sick he was of being pushed around and treated like he’s less than he is, spewing out ultimatums such as “To hell with the intel, I’m never going back to being a bodyguard ever again.”

To cheer him up and to get away until his anger could simmer down, you offer go pick up his favorite meal

And as you approach the door with the food in hand, you hear something odd on the other side

You cautiously open the door and peer inside, discovering Kurapika yelling along to the popular song

No, seriously- yelling

There’s no sense of song to his cadence whatsoever, he’s just hollering louder than you’ve ever thought him capable of

He’s also pulled out a basket of laundry and has started throwing it around the room as he continues on his rampage

(It was the least destructive thing he could take his anger out on)

You tiptoe over to put the food on the counter, but he’s still yet to notice you

When he shows no signs of stopping, his eyes growing redder by the second, you eventually clear your throat

“Pika, what are you doing?”

He stops with a jolt, the ending notes of the song fading away in the background

The red of his eyes drops down to his face as he realizes what you just saw

“y/n...how long have you been standing there?”

“Since the first chorus.” You choke down a giggle. “I didn’t know you liked that song.”

“I don’t, I just...” He rubs the back of his neck. “Silly as this is, it’s just the best way I’ve found to relieve my petty stress in a safe way.”

“So... this is something you do often?”

His face grows so red you think it might burst. “...yes.”

You two stare at each other for a few moments, then simultaneously burst into laughter

The kind where your entire body shakes, your stomach hurts, and tears spill from your eyes

When he doubles over to catch his breath, you cross the room to wrap him in a hug, rocking back and forth

“Can I join in next time?” you teasingly ask. “It looks fun.”

Kurapika wipes his cheeks and rolls his eyes with a smile. “Sure, why not? Just don’t tell anyone else.”

Hawks

This was the first time you had ever slept over with Keigo, and what he listens to while getting ready comes as quite a surprise.

He gets up before you do, and you wake to hear strange music coming through the closed bathroom door

You tiptoe over to see what’s going on, sliding the door open as quietly as possible

Not that he would’ve heard you, anyway, because as he’s doing his eyeliner, he’s humming along to the blaring Dolly Parton hit, swaying his hips in time with the beat

When the song reaches its defining line, he pulls the eyeliner pen away from his face and throws his head back, wailing the lyrics to the ceiling with comedic passion

You stifle your laughter behind your hand as he returns to his task, still oblivious to your presence

Picking a choice moment to reveal yourself, you burst fully into the bathroom and fix him with a mischievous look

“Whatcha listening to?”

He jumps in shock when he spots you, leaving a streak of eyeliner down his cheek

“Fuck!” He exclaims, pouting at the black stripe. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough,” you tease.

“I mean, it’s not what it looks like.” He avoids eye contact, hunting around for makeup remover. “Don’t you just have a random song that gets you motivated, no matter how stupid it is?”

“You don’t have to be embarrassed.” You hoist yourself up onto the bathroom counter next to him. “Dolly Parton is amazing. ‘Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Joleeeeeeene’.”

“You know what? She is. You’re so right.” He points his eyeliner at you, nodding in aggressive approval. “See? This is why I like you.”

And you can bet your ass that every time you get in the car together from here on out, you’re blaring Dolly Parton

There have been several instances when you’ve shown up to missions with it pounding from the speakers as you sleekly step out of the car, ready to apprehend any villains that dare to cross the pair of you

And it’s the most badass thing ever.

Tsukishima

At this point in your relationship, you thought you had learned all of Tsukishima’s secrets.

You were wrong.

It starts completely innocently, with the two of you going with Yamaguchi for a boba run

And when Tsukishima settles into the driver’s seat, his phone auto-connects to the speakers and sends familiar country twangs through the car at a volume that prompts you to clap your hands over your ears

“Shit!” he mutters, fumbling around, unsure which would do the most damage control: changing the song or muting the volume

“Kei,” you guffaw, “what the hell were you listening to?”

“It was an ad,” he insists, eventually managing to get the volume to a favorable range and select a less-embarrassing song choice

“Don’t let him fool you, Y/N.” Yamaguchi’s head pokes between the two front seats. “Dumb Blonde is one of his favorite songs.”

“And don’t listen to how idiotic Yamaguchi’s being,” Tsukishima bites back, but the pink tinge growing over the top of his ears betrays his lie.

“It’s been one of his top five most played songs for about three years now,” Yamaguchi continues. “I think he relates to it.”

“You’re kidding!”

At this point, you can’t control your giggles, and Kei’s jaw grows tighter by the second

“Yeah, and once he has a couple of drinks in him, he’ll shamelessly belt the hell out of it at karaoke.” Yamaguchi’s gaze flickers to his phone as his finger rapidly scrolls. “Here, I have a video.”

“Yamaguchi, don’t you dare-”

Tsukishima reaches a long arm out to steal the phone, but you grab his hand before he can take it

“Aht aht, Tsukki,” you tease. “You have two passengers that you’re responsible for. Eyes on the road, please.”

As he glowers, Yamaguchi shows you a glorious video of Tsukishima absolutely wailing out the Dolly Parton hit into a karaoke microphone, the teammates around him laughing so hard that they almost appeared to be choking

“That’s amazing!” You squeal, belly hurting from so much laughter. “But I can’t believe that video didn’t spread around like wildfire.”

“Bold of you to assume that I don’t have worse blackmail to use against all of them,” Kei snaps.

“Well, you should know that you’re never going to live this down as far as I’m concerned.”

“I don’t know why it’s such a big deal. Everyone has guilty pleasures.” By this point, his face is the same shade as a tomato, but he fixes you with a knife-like gaze that strikes fear into your heart. “Shall I start listing yours?”

Gojou

(i know he’s technically silver/platinum but he just has blonde energy okay)

The last thing you expect to come home to after a long day of work is Dolly Parton music blaring through your home

And you expect even less to find Gojou standing on the couch, belting the song at the top of his lungs

Beyond the initial shock, you have to admit that he actually sounds quite good, hitting each note to perfection and performing the song with subtle corresponding choreography

“Gojou!” You eventually shout. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Oh, good! You’re home.” He deftly hops off the couch and approaches you with a grin. “I’ve been wanting your opinion on my act.”

“Your act?”

“Yes! The school staff has an annual karaoke contest coming up. I do this song every year, and it’s undefeated.”

“Every year? How have I never known about this?”

“I actually don’t have any idea. I have videos. I’ll show them to you, if you’d like.”

“You’re a little too proud of that,” you giggle. “But if it’s undefeated, why do you need my opinion on it?”

“Because everyone always conspires to try and beat me. I have to keep it fresh. But lately, it’s just been feeling stale.” He furrows his brows, a finger going to his chin in contemplation.

“How are you so serious about this but so carefree when you’re literally about to die?” You grab his elbows and give them a small shake. “Anyway, what I saw certainly didn’t seem stale. Seems like you were having a pretty good time.”

“A good time just isn’t enough anymore...”

You clap a hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter as he paces around the room, more serious than you’d ever seen him

Over a karaoke contest to a Dolly Parton song

He snaps his fingers as he finally comes to his realization, approaching you with a sinister smile

“I’ve got it! You should perform it with me.”

“Are you serious? No! No no no.”

“Come on, don’t be so closed-minded.” Gojou grabs your hand and yanks you up onto the couch with him. “Give it a shot.”

After much protesting on your part and much silly encouragement on his, you try it out to pacify him, and end up being quite the dynamic duo

As he wished, you perform the comedic act at the karaoke contest, and satisfy Gojou by maintaining his undefeated record

“You know that you owe me big time now, right?” you ask as he admires the cheap trophy he’s just been handed.

He grins, draping his long arm over your shoulders. “Anything you want, you’ve got it.”

Bakugou

Bakugou discovers the song after Kirishima and Denki put it on his playlist as a joke

Denki had the bright idea to give Bakugou the nickname “dumb blonde” and figured that the prank would be the start of it all

Needless to say, it didn’t go over very well

There was yelling

And a few punches thrown

You eventually have to pull him away, imploring him to calm down

“I’m not going to calm down until that piece of shit is off my playlist.”

You promptly take his phone and hold it in front of him, removing the offending song

“See? Gone. Now please chill out.”

Flash-forward to a week or so later

You happen to walk into the gym for a late night run on the treadmill while he’s there doing weights

Since he was alone before you entered, his music is hooked up to the central sound system, blaring some heavy metal song as he softly hums along in time with his breaths

You don’t think anything of it, giving him a small wave and going to put your own earbuds in

Until the barely-perceptible lyrics seem a little familiar

You pause to listen for a moment, and shoot him a look of shock when you realize that he is, in fact, listening to a heavy metal cover of Dumb Blonde.

“Is this-”

“Shut up,” he snaps, avoiding eye contact and continuing to pump the machine with frightening intensity.

“How did you even find a cover like this?”

“Shut. Up.”

“I’m just so-”

“It just helps me work out, okay?” He lets the weight drop with a sharp clang. “Don’t you fucking dare tell anyone about this.”

You raise your hands in surrender. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

“Good. Now get on with your workout and let me finish mine.”

He focuses his fiery gaze on the faraway wall, but strangely doesn’t bother to change or turn off the song

And you can’t resist pulling your phone out, pretending to take a selfie while you’re actually, in fact, filming him behind you

“I can see you, stupid,” he snaps. “I’m serious. I’ll fucking kill you.”

You jump in fear, the phone falling from your hands.

“I wasn’t!” You fib. “Besides, it’s away now.”

But little did he know, you had already captured everything you needed to see, and the footage was already on its way to Kirishima and Denki

You know that you’re beyond dead once he finds out what you had done, but the amusement of it all is beyond worth it

Besides, maybe now he’d think twice before the next time he makes fun of someone.

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