#this is freakish behaviour | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mrsensitive · 1 year

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4 times everyone else caught on before the 1 time you and quinn finally did

a good old 4+1 ft. best friend beau & a couple other cameos, some mutual pining and also reader is a costume designer . kind of an elaboration of a lil blurb i wrote a while ago so if it seems familiar no it doesn't 😋

You’d never been more grateful for Friday to roll around. You’d had what felt like the longest week from hell and just wanted to take your mind off everything, so when your new neighbour turned best friend Beau texted you to meet him and a couple friends at the bar, the thought that you wouldn’t know half the people there wasn’t enough to dissuade you from joining.

When you arrive, you’re quick to spot the group - Beau hadn’t lied when he said it wasn’t just the team, but he might’ve stretched the truth when he said you already knew some of the guys. A quick once over is enough for you to realise the only other person you really know is Brock. Sure, you had heard of the others from Beau’s stories and the fact that you sometimes watched the games, but you were starting to wonder if you should’ve just gone home to your bottle of wine instead.

Beau is quick to welcome you though, flooding you with the names of everyone you’d yet to meet and pushing you into the seat he’d just vacated.

“Wait here, I’m getting the next round,” he beams at you, a good few drinks in already. “Brock come give me a hand, bud.”

You try to get your bearings a little, looking around trying to commit names to faces since the only two people you knew had left, and you realise mostly everyone is in their own conversations save for the guy on your right. You pause, staring at him trying to remember his name as he watches you struggle, clearly bemused.

“It’s Quinn,” he offers after a moment or two. He’s laughing lightly and you relax in your seat a little. “Don’t sweat it.”

You breathe out a smile, “Thanks. I was getting there, y’know.” You pause, taking a moment to get a better look at him. “Hughes, right? I’ve seen you play before. You’re a great skater.”

“Oh uh…thanks.” He shifts a little in his seat. “Beau’s talked about you a couple times actually. So it’s nice to meet you finally.”

You can’t help your eyebrows from shooting up, both of you are equally surprised and amused that you’re even aware of the other. You’re half expecting Quinn to elaborate, scanning his face for any hint that what Beau’s said about you was any level of incriminating, but somehow, you find yourself a bit distracted by the way his hair is curling over his forehead.

Before either of you can say anything, Beau’s dropped a glass in front of you and inserted himself back in the conversation.

“So what was so terrible about work this week? What’s the drama this time?”

You let out a sigh, remembering why you’d dragged yourself here in the first place. “Oh, nothing new. They just decided to reschedule all our fittings so we barely had the right costumes prepared - which is just an embarrassing look for me, you know, even if it literally wasn’t my fault. I was running all over the place trying to make it work - and then on top of that I find out they’ve put our costume truck about three states over from where the set is so I’ve got to hassle someone about that and-”

“Costumes?” Your rambling is cut off by Quinn who looks much more interested than Beau, who, to his credit, has heard some variation of this story just about every other week.

“Oh, yeah. I’m a costume designer,” you explain, “I’m working on a movie at the moment.” For some reason you feel rather embarrassed that you didn’t clarify this to him before and you’re hoping the dim lighting is hiding the way you’ve started blushing.

“I’m going to take this as my cue to leave.” Beau says, already standing up to move across the table, “You tell Quinn the whole back story and I’ll come back when you’re done with that, okay?”

Beau, in fact, does not come back for the rest of the night but you’re so wrapped up in your conversation with Quinn that you don’t particularly notice anyway. Usually you hate talking about yourself, but the drinks have loosened you up and he seems so genuinely curious and intrigued about you. He asks how you met Beau, so you tell him the story of how his 7’s look a little too much like 1’s and you ended up getting so much of his mail that you had to go and confront him about it. You try to ask him about hockey but he seems rather adept at deflecting the conversation back to you every time. You can’t help but bask in the full attention he’s giving you and the more drinks you have, the more you find yourself quietly admiring his bone structure. You’re a little surprised to hear yourself laughing so much and how easily the conversation moves that you can’t quite remember how you ended up discussing how you both think roses are overrated.

You’re so caught up in each other that neither of you catch Brock nudging Beau and nodding his head towards you across the table.

“You reckon?” Brock asks, a cheeky grin plastered on his face.

“Oh, easily. I’ve been watching them all night.”

You pick up Beau’s call almost immediately.

“Hey, what’s up? Do you need something?” There’s a tinge of confusion in your voice.

“What? No, I just- I have an extra ticket to the game tonight and I was going to offer it to you if you weren’t being so snappy.” Beau teases.

“Oh,” you let out a chuckle, “Sorry, you just never call. I do happen to be free tonight though, if the offer’s still on the table...”

“Great, I’ll send you the ticket,” you can hear him smiling through the line. “Don’t drive, I’ll give you a lift if you wait a little after the game. Stick around and say hi to some of the other guys too.”

“Sure,” you reply, “I’ll see you later then. Maybe score or win or something? I dunno, make it worth my night?”

“Yeah ok,” you can hear him laughing now, “Will do, just for you. See you soon.”

And even if you were only joking, the team does deliver on your request. You hang by the exit as you wait for Beau, congratulating some of the other guys on the win as they start to trickle out. When Quinn catches sight of you, he can’t help the way the corners of his mouth quirk upwards and you can’t help the way you mirror it.

“Hey Quinner, congrats on the game,” you greet him, “Big win!”

You’re mildly aware of the way your heart rate has picked up slightly since he stopped in front of you. You want to believe that it’s just because the handful of times you’ve seen him now have always been aided with a bit of liquid courage, even if you’re currently fixating on his slightly damp hair and the way his bag is slung over his shoulder. Quinn, however, is severely aware of the way his heart rate seemed to stop upon hearing the nickname leave your mouth.

He clears his throat, “Yeah, thanks. I didn’t realise you were going to be here?”

“Beau said he had an extra ticket last minute - enticed me with a ride home, so I’m just waiting for him now.”

“Yeah, he should be done with the interviews soon - you know, three point night and all,” he laughs, glancing back at the doorway in search of a sign of his teammate.

“Coming from you, mister record breaker!”

Quinn whips his head back around to you, eyes wide as he starts to mumble something to try and downplay his night. He knows he’s blushing from the way he can feel his cheeks burning but he’s hoping it could be disguised as some sort of postgame flush.

You can’t help but let out a laugh at how off guard your comment seemed to catch him. “Surely you’re going out to celebrate?”

“Oh, I don’t know… we’ve got an early start tomorrow…” He rubs a hand at the back of his neck and your eyes flicker to his bicep briefly.

“Hmmm boring,” you tease, “All work and no play I guess.”

Something in your tone has him grinning now. “No rest for the wicked,” he quips.

Unbeknownst to the two of you, you’ve had an audience for just about all of your conversation.

“Is this what he looks like when he’s trying to flirt?” Petey asks, raising his eyebrows.

“I guess. Or trying to, at least,” Brock answers, still eyeing the scene in front of him. “How long do we think til they do something about it?”

Beau’s appeared next to them at the door now too, smirking as he watches you and Quinn completely oblivious to everyone else.

“Wanna take bets?”

Quinn’s nervous. He’s already texted you to let you know he’s arrived but he’s expecting that you’ll have to turn him away last minute. He’s still in disbelief that he’s even here, despite the fact that you’d offered to have him visit you on set several times already, but he always thought it was just a throw away thing you would say to be nice. He only tells you this about the fourth time you’ve asked, the arrival of the post season working out with one of the quieter days of your schedule, and you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing in his face about it.

“Quinn. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t mean it. Most of our conversations are about movies, so I just thought you might find it cool to see what it’s like,” you shrug. "I've watched you play games before so it feels kind of fair, right?’

As much as he protests that it’s different, you are kind of right, naturally. He thinks it is extremely cool that this is what you do for a living, and even cooler that you’d even considered to bring him along and show him a part of it. At least, cool is what he’s trying to convince himself he’s feeling about it all.

When he sees how excited you look, running out to meet him, he once again can’t help the grin that weasels its way onto his face. He holds out the second coffee cup in his hand to you.

“Hey,” he greets, “I brought you a coffee. I stopped on my way here but I didn’t really know what you usually get or if you prefer, like, hot or iced? So I just got you what I get which is-”

You’re pleasantly surprised and amused, letting him ramble a little before you cut him off, thanking him and groaning when you take a sip. “God, thank you. I’ve already had one today but I truly needed this.”

He’s relieved to hear it, immediately relaxing. “Hectic day then?”

“Kind of, but like… A controlled hectic you know?” You pause, giving him a once over, realising he’s a little less jittery than a minute ago - and also that he looks good. You’ve only ever really seen him in very weak bar lighting, or after a hockey game - but definitely never before lunch. The sun looks good on him you think, and you’re rather charmed by the outfit he’s picked out for the occasion but you’re quick to snap yourself out of your thoughts.

“Let me show you around!”

You give him a tour of the set, proudly pointing out how you managed to convince them to move your trailer closer, talking him through your designs you have pinned up and showing him some of the final costumes.

Quinn’s already wide-eyed, kid in a candy store at all of this, staring and asking if he can touch things. He almost doesn’t believe you when you say he can watch them film a scene or two. He’s amazed by the whole set up of it all, the cameras, the monitors, all the people who seem to be constantly walking places very quickly with a lot of purpose. You lead him to your little costume camp in the corner, letting out a chuckle at how impressed he is.

“Okay, look so I do kind of have to do my job and leave you alone here, but just stay where I tell you to, don’t get in the way and you’ll be fine.” You’ve barely finished your sentence when someone calls your name, so you’re pushing Quinn into an empty chair, wincing a smile at him and scurrying away.

You don’t really get a chance to check back in on him for a good hour or two, but Quinn’s barely noticed the amount of time that’s gone by. He’s shocked at the fact that he’s so close to actors who he actually recognises, but he’s even more in awe simply watching you in your element. He knew you’d downplayed your role to him but even so, he’s mesmerised at the way you’re handling everyone’s questions, how you’re there in between takes to fix collars and ties and things he hadn’t even noticed, at how almost out of nowhere, you suddenly seem to have this commanding yet gracious air of authority around you. He’s never seen or even pictured you like this but he’s completely caught up in it, not realising that one of the makeup artists has been watching his laser focus on you this whole time and sidled up to him.

He doesn’t quite hear her at first.

“I was just asking if you were the boyfriend?”

Quinn’s immediately blushing furiously and he’s only glad that you aren’t there to see it. “No- no, um. Just, uhh, just a friend is all.”

His response appropriately earns a raised eyebrow.

“Ahhh, okay. Gotcha. Sorry, was just asking,” she pauses, entertained by his spluttering, “She’s rather amazing, you know? Really great at her job and just incredible in general.”

“Yeah, I, uh- I know,” he answers, glancing at you briefly. There’s something in this stranger’s tone that has him slightly confused, wondering why he’s being told this.

She only hums in response before walking away, leaving him to try not to overthink the interaction. He quickly pushes it aside when he sees you making your way over.

“Hey,” you grin, coming to a stop in front of him, “Been having fun?”

“Oh yeah,” he perks up immediately, “Heaps.”

“Great, because we’re starting to wrap up. I’ll take you back out to the entrance, save you all the boring stuff, y’know?”

Quinn’s surprised that it’s already heading into the late afternoon when you exit the studio. He turns to look at you, shoving his hands into his pockets and mustering up as much sincerity as he can.

“Thanks again for having me. It was, um, it was really cool watching you do your thing.”

“Well thanks for finally taking me up on my offer,” you counter, “and thanks for the coffee. I’m glad you had fun, really." You pause, cocking your head slightly, “We’ll go watch the movie together when it’s out.”

This, Quinn is sure, is a throw away line, at least he thinks. You’re not completely sure if you meant it either, but you know you only said it because you knew he would take it as one.

A couple days later you get a text out of the blue from Beau, and then Brock.

Beau: WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU TOOK QUINN ON SET???? I’VE KNOWN YOU FOR HOW LONG AND YOU’VE NEVER ASKED ME?!!?!?!

Brock: I like movies too :))

For whatever reason, Beau’s apartment had become the designated gathering spot. You’d already found yourself there a couple times already with the rest of the group, so you didn’t really question it when he ropes you into the games night he’s hosting, claiming they need another person to even out the numbers. It doesn’t occur to you to ask why he couldn’t have asked literally any of the other guys instead, so you don’t realise he has a whole catalogue of excuses ready to cover the fact that he’d been orchestrating a reason to get you and Quinn in the same room again.

If anyone were to ask Quinn why he was late, he also had his own list of excuses ready to rattle off before he’d admit the truth. He’d spent an embarrassingly long amount of time switching between three shirts knowing that he’d see you - and so what if you’d done the same, as long as nobody else knew?

Currently, you’re all way too many drinks in, lining up along the couch in preparation for the final tie breaking round of charades. Beau’s couch is definitely not big enough to fit six of you but you all squish in anyway, mostly too drunk or too determined to win to care. You should have expected this level of competition from a group of professional athletes; you've done a good job of keeping up all night, but you’re suddenly very acutely aware of how close Quinn is sitting next to you. You take another hard swallow from your drink before turning your focus onto Beau flailing his arms in front of you.

You manage to keep your cool through several rounds, but eventually you realise Quinn’s thigh has, at some point, ended up pressed firmly against yours. Immediately your whole leg is tingling and your face is flaming up, but Quinn doesn’t seem to show any signs of pulling away, or simply even realising. You blink, trying to refocus, but the only thing your brain seems capable of processing at the moment is the feeling of Quinn’s leg against yours through your jeans. If it weren’t for Beau’s overly dramatic reaction, you probably wouldn’t even have noticed that your team had already lost.

You move to lean back against the couch - which was a mistake, considering now your shoulders are brushing too, and someone might as well have set your entire body on fire. Your head is starting to spin - must just be the shots catching up, you try to convince yourself - and you’ve drawn your lips into a thin line in an effort not to combust.

Brock lets out a laugh, clocking your expression. “Alright, no need to be such a sore loser, princess.”

You can feel Quinn turning to look at you, even if you’re desperately avoiding his eye contact. Beau is looking at you now too, eyes flickering over the way you and Quinn are pressed into each other’s sides. He grins, gears already turning in his head.

You hope your laugh sounds convincing. “Yeah, didn’t realise I’d get so into it, huh?”

“We’ll just have to have a rematch another time,” Beau reassures you, well aware losing wasn’t the reason why you looked so distressed. He fakes a look at the clock as you stand up from the couch, having decided you wouldn’t have survived much longer if you didn’t move.

“Well I guess it’s getting a bit late. I think we’re all pretty far gone at this point so everyone’s welcome to crash for the night if you want," Beau offers.

“Dude,” Quinn pipes up, “There’s no way you have enough space for all of us.”

“Well, lucky a certain someone just so happens to live not so far away!” Beau is already shepherding the two of you out of his apartment, still wearing the biggest grin on his face.

Before you can even begin to protest, you’ve already found yourself standing next to Quinn in the hallway. A beat passes, the two of you staring at the shut door incredulously before you finally catch Quinn’s eye, both unable to help the fit of giggles that escapes when you catch each other’s expressions.

In hindsight, you think this is the exact moment where you lose the ability to deny to yourself that you see him as just one of Beau’s friends. His eyes are a little glazed over from the alcohol, and his lips are flushed the prettiest pink to match his cheeks which are pulled into the widest smile you’ve seen him wear to date, and for the first time you notice exactly just how full his eyelashes are.

“I guess I do have a free couch,” you breathe out once you’ve both calmed down.

“No it’s fine really, I can just get an uber home, don’t worry about it,” Quinn argues, the slight awkwardness of the situation finally hitting him.

“Quinn, don’t be ridiculous. Your car’s still here, isn’t it? I literally live down the hallway,” you pause, “... like Beau said.”

He swallows, blinking at you for a good while. “Yeah, okay. If you’re sure then.”

He waits for you to tell him that you’ve changed your mind, that actually the boyfriend you’ve never mentioned before wouldn’t like it if he stayed, or anything along those lines - something that would make the whole thing feel a little more believable, but instead, he just finds you looking at him. He doesn’t think he can handle that much longer without buckling at the knees, the way your eyes are searching his face, so he turns and starts walking down the hallway. He goes to ask what number your apartment is when he suddenly feels your soft hand slip into his.

You don’t know what it is. Maybe how nervous he suddenly seemed, maybe the way his hair looked perfectly dishevelled, or maybe in your intoxicated state you’d just finally decided to throw caution to the wind.

“I’m back this way, idiot,” you laugh at him before tugging him down the other way to your door.

Quinn is sure that his heart is thumping so loudly that you can hear it echoing through the silent hallway, or that you can somehow feel it where your fingers are laced through his but you’re being nice and saving him the embarrassment by not saying anything about it. He’s also hyper aware of how you didn’t drop his hand until you were both inside, even when you were rummaging in your pockets for your keys.

He glances around your apartment, following suit as he watches you kick off your sneakers. He’s overtly aware of the quietness compared to the chaos of just earlier, and the overwhelming sense of domesticity as he trails behind you into your home.

You watch him as he looks around, trying to find something to do in order to not get distracted staring at his nose. “Want some water?”

“Yeah actually, thanks,” he feels like he’s whispering, like if he speaks any louder you might realise that he is, actually, in fact, standing in your apartment and decide to kick him out.

He watches you reach on your toes to grab an extra glass from the cabinet and he finds himself endeared by it all - the way your shoes were lined up in the hallway, the sweater left draped over the couch, the lone mug left on your kitchen counter by your coffee machine.

He gestures at what he’s guessing is an open script left on the table next to an array of pens. “New project?”

“Yeah, I’m almost done reading through it,” you answer, “I won't be working on it for several months still, but I haven’t completely decided yet.”

“Is it shooting here as well?”

“Only bits of it. Looks like it’ll be mostly in LA though. And a couple other locations but it’ll be fun,” you shrug, handing him the glass.

“So you’re gonna do it?”

“Yeah, I think so. Script’s pretty good so far, and it’s an exciting team. Kind of like why not, you know?”

Quinn only manages to mutter out some sort of agreement. He’s surprised by his own disappointment at the idea that you could be moving out to LA, when in the grand scheme of things he’s only known you for about half a year. Thankfully, you interrupt him before he can think about it much more.

“Anyway, I’ll go get some blankets for you. Bathroom’s down that way, there’s extra toothbrushes in the first drawer.”

When he’s back, he almost crumples at the sight of you in your pjs setting up the couch for him. He notices you’ve refilled his glass before you turn around and shove a pile of clothes into his hands.

“Sweats for you, they should fit, I think,” you crinkle your nose. “My room’s down that way, just let me know if you need anything.”

He only manages to get out a small thanks in response. He’s staring at you, he knows that, but he can’t help how soft you look in the dim lighting.

You tilt your head, giving him a small smile. “Night, Quinn.”

“Yeah, goodnight,” he mumbles.

He makes a mental note to both punch Beau and then thank him in the morning.

+ 1

Nothing ever happened after that seemingly eventful night. It’s now well into the next season and you’re thinking that this is just what the dynamic of yours and Quinn’s friendship is like. You’ve gone back to trying to convince yourself that it’s normal - like you also think Beau’s good looking, right? You had a bit of a crush on him too when you first met him, even if that came and went awfully swiftly and you don’t get anything even close to the same kind of head spinning giddiness when he talks to you. Quinn thinks he’s been less subtle about it all, and you think you’ve been dropping hints but apparently your efforts have only been evident to everyone else but each other.

You know that the team has a gala coming up soon. Beau’s mentioned it to you a couple times in his attempt to gauge how you would feel if he forced Quinn to take you as his date. When he tells Quinn his master plan to finally get the two of you together, Quinn almost chokes on his own spit.

“Ask her as my date?! You’re kidding right?” he practically screeches.

“No.”

Quinn stammers, trying to formulate some kind of reply. “I don’t- We’re not- … I’m not doing that.”

Beau groans. “You guys are both such idiots, I’m sick of it. It’s so obvious that you like her and I don’t know how you can’t see that she’s head over heels for you too!”

Quinn only stares at him in response.

“Why won’t you just ask her? The world isn’t going to implode.”

There’s a good minute of silence, the two of them staring at each other waiting for someone to break. Quinn finally sighs, taking a seat on the couch.

“Isn’t she leaving for LA soon?”

“Are you being serious right now? Please tell me you’re not actually this stupid.”

Quinn blinks. “I don’t know. Vancouver and LA are pretty far apart.”

Beau is just about ready to physically knock some sense into him.

“You’re not even in Vancouver half the time anyway. Plus she’s not moving away forever. Don’t be such a drama queen.”

When Quinn doesn’t say anything in response, Beau doubles down.

“If you don’t ask her, I will for you. I’m not lying but you can test that out if you’d like.”

Beau doesn’t believe that Quinn will do anything, but he doesn’t give him much time to prove him wrong anyway. He’s calling you that evening.

“What are you doing Saturday night in two weeks time?”

“What? Nothing, I don’t think.”

“Okay, great. You’re coming to the gala as Quinn’s date then.”

“I’m what?!”

“You heard me.”

There’s a pause.

“Are you home right now?”

“Ye-”

You hang up on him before he can finish the syllable and you’re storming down the hallway until you’re banging on his door. He looks rather calm when he lets you in, but you don’t miss the mischievous twinkle in his eye.

You point an accusing finger at him. “Explain it to me again. You want me to do what now?”

Beau rolls his eyes. “You’re free. Quinn’s free. Why not? It’s painfully obvious that you have this massive crush on him.”

You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. “No I don’t. And you’re asking me instead of him because?”

“Because he’s being an idiot, like he has been for almost an entire year now.” Beau looks at you and he can tell you could be convinced. “Just say yes. I’ll be there, the other guys will be there, there’ll be free food and drinks. Plus you’ll get to dress up! You’re always telling me you want to have an excuse to dress up yourself instead of other people!”

You can’t deny his last point. Literally just the other week, you’d sent him a link of this drop dead gorgeous dress you’d found whilst sourcing for your next project and complained to him about how you wanted to get it for yourself but had nowhere to wear it to.

You narrow your eyes at him. “What’s the catch?”

“There is no catch. Just say you’ll come as his date. That’s it.”

You pause. Beau finds himself in his second stalemate of the day, but he knows you’re going to give in more easily. He listens to the tick of the clock in his living room, patiently waiting for you to cave.

“Fine.”

You don’t give him a chance to properly react before you’ve flung open his door, marched back to your own apartment and screamed into your pillow about what you’ve said yes to.

Beau should’ve known you were going to be insufferable leading up to the actual night. You spend the entirety of the next week pestering him about what the dress code is, how you have nothing to wear, what to expect, who else is going to be there. He gives you the same answers every time you ask and he promises to go dress shopping with you on Thursday. You’re only the slightest bit more relieved at this, but as soon as you agree, Beau’s texting Quinn that he has about a week to deliver.

Quinn had called you as soon as he saw Beau’s message, apologising and saying that he wished Beau had given him a little more warning so he could have asked you himself (he knows he wouldn’t have) and telling you that you don’t have to go if you didn’t want to. You were barely done freaking out about it yourself, but the way he sounded so completely flustered about it all through the phone was somewhat reassuring.

When you make your way up the stairs to your apartment on Wednesday evening, you find yourself actually excited to go pick out a dress the next day. You would be lying if you said you hadn’t pulled together some inspiration images, but in your defence, you were just good at your job. Your steps falter a little when you notice a package at your door, but as you get closer, you notice there’s a post-it note over it.

Been a minute since our mail got confused again :)

– Beau

You’re confused because you don’t remember ordering anything, but it’s definitely been addressed to you. You head inside to open it, brows furrowing when you start to recognise the fabric. Needless to say, your jaw is definitely on the floor when you pull out the same dress that you had sent Beau not too long ago. You’re scrambling to grab your phone to yell at him when you remember they’re currently playing a game at the moment, so you settle for a borderline blasphemous string of texts instead.

Hours later, when you’re still reeling, you get one single message in response.

Beau: Wasn’t me. Was all huggy :)

It feels like the last days left until the gala had gone all too quick yet also taken way too long. You felt like you’d been pulling your hair out about it nonstop, and it didn’t help that the guys had gone away on a roadie in between.

You’d started getting ready way too early. You couldn’t do up the clasp of your necklace since you weren’t used to having your nails done, leaving you too much time to start wondering if you’d maybe gone a little overboard with it all. You’d been pacing around your apartment for the past half hour trying to occupy your hands with something else instead, waiting for a more appropriate time to get changed. You think you must look like a deranged housewife, washing your dishes and folding your laundry with a full face of makeup and maybe too much diligence.

You’re so caught up in distracting yourself that the buzzer ringing makes you jump.

“Hey, come on up. I’ll unlock the door, I’ve just got to get changed,” you say over the intercom.

You run back to your room to pull on the dress you’d been fawning over for weeks, still not entirely sure how either Quinn or Beau had managed to work out the right size for you. You hear the door being opened and Quinn calling out your name just as you’re spraying your perfume.

“In my room!” You yell back, “One sec!”

When he rounds the corner and lays eyes on you, Quinn’s certain he’s turned completely into putty. He’s never seen you so dressed up and you look so breathtakingly stunning that he almost drops the bouquet in his hands.

You’re equally breathless when you turn around to face him. You didn’t realise that he’d gotten a tie to match, and you wouldn’t know that he’d dragged Petey to help him pick a new suit in an attempt to impress you. You’re both staring at each other for what feels like forever before either of you can manage a word.

“Um, hi,” he breathes, barely audible, “You look- you look really beautiful.”

You can’t hide the blush that’s creeping up your neck, but you don’t try to anyway considering his cheeks have gone a rosy shade to match.

“Thanks, Quinn. You look really good too.” You don’t notice how he flushes even deeper because you’ve finally noticed the flowers he’s holding, and even more so, how there’s not a single rose in the bunch. “Are those…?”

Quinn suddenly feels embarrassed about the fact he got you flowers. “Yeah, I um, I got- they’re for you.” He feels like a school boy all over again, mentally kicking himself for not being able to get a proper sentence out. He looks down at the stems, rubbing at his stubble. “Did I overdo it?”

You laugh, you’d been fidgeting with your nails the entire time.

“No, I think it’s really sweet.” You take the flowers from him, laying them down on your vanity when you remember your necklace.

“Oh, can you help me with this? I can’t seem to get the clasp.” You hand him the chain and turn, moving your hair out of the way.

You can smell the waft of his cologne and feel his focus on the back of your neck, suddenly incredibly aware of how close you’re standing. Your mouth has dried, you're pretty sure your ears are ringing and you think you’re fully frozen in your spot.

“There,” Quinn mumbles, barely even able to get the word past the lump in his throat. He’s still thinking about how unreal you look and fighting the overwhelming urge to spin you around and kiss you right then and there.

You’re both snapped out of the moment when his phone starts ringing. It’s Beau, asking what time you guys are going to arrive.

“Yeah, we’re just about to leave. See you soon, dude.” Quinn answers, turning his attention back to you. “Ready to go?”

On the way there, you’ve somehow recomposed yourself to manage a somewhat normal conversation. You’re not sure exactly what it is that sent your nerves into haywire in the first place. The fact that you’re so done up, that you’re technically his date, or the fact that he seems just as antsy as you. He tells you he’s a little nervous about the speech he has to make, so you squeeze his hand in reassurance and try to reel your nerves in for both of you.

It’s a lot easier when you get there and see everyone else. You’re reminded that they’re your friends and that this is just another time you get to hang out, even if it’s a lot more fancy and official than what you’re used to. But when you finally go to take your seats after doing your initial rounds of mingling, you still manage to somehow knock your fork to the floor. You bend over to pick it up and you don’t realise Quinn’s covered the edge of the table with his hand until you bump your head into it. Before you can even say anything or just thank him for it, he’s offering to swap forks with you.

“Oh, don’t even worry about it,” you laugh a little breathlessly, “Five second rule, right?”

“Yeah, sure,” he replies, but he’s already replaced the fork next to your plate with his anyway.

Brock and Petey have watched the whole exchange and share knowing smirks from across the table.

Everything else seems to go smoothly. Maybe it’s the soft touches on his arm or on your back, the blushing smiles and longing glances across the room, but something about tonight feels like tomorrow you won’t be able to pretend nothing happened.

Quinn’s speech goes well, and now everyone is up and moving around again. You hang back and let the long line of teammates and attendees go to congratulate him first.

Beau approaches Quinn, interrupting his train of thought.

“Now that the business part is done, you gonna finally make a move or what?”

Quinn’s eyes almost pop out of his head at the idea of this and also the volume at which Beau is speaking.

“Shut up,” he hisses, “She’ll hear you!”

“Doesn’t matter - she’s going to notice anyway with how hard you’ve been staring all night!”

“No I haven’t,” he mutters, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah ok, sure buddy. Just- no time like the present!” Beau claps him on the back and leaves Quinn to shift his gaze back to you. He’s starting to get lost in how at ease you look, talking to some of the other wives, when he realises Beau is right and you’ve caught him staring.

You make your way to him, prodding him gently in the shoulder.

“Told ya you didn’t need to be so worried.”

He’s blushing again. He can’t seem to get a handle on the effect you have on him.

“Yeah, it went alright, I guess. Made it out alive.”

“Well I, for one, think you spoke really well.” There’s a slight teasing in your voice, but you hope he can tell you mean it.

Quinn finds himself lost for words in front of you for what feels like the hundredth time that night. He’s scanning your face and tries not to think too hard before he opens his mouth again.

“Can I kiss y-”

“Please.”

His hands are quick to find your waist and pull you closer as your hands find a place against his chest. The kiss is quick and rushed and almost all teeth from how big you’re both smiling, but you don’t mind it. You feel like the ground’s been pulled out from under you in one fell swoop and you’re free falling but somehow it feels like exactly what you needed.

When you pull away, Quinn’s wearing the goofiest lopsided grin you’ve ever seen and you can only imagine that you look the same.

“I, uh-”

“You’ve got lip gloss on you.”

You’re both giggling as he swipes over his lips with his thumb.

You’re so lost in him that you almost don’t register all the hollering and clapping from your table. Usually you would hate the idea of so many eyes watching you, but it all feels like such a long time coming that you can’t seem to be even remotely embarrassed about any of it.

#a result of the freak behaviour quinn has been displaying as of late... like sorry i am just a Girl #actually he did all that and then i turned around and wrote over 6.5k about him so . whats more freakish im not sure anymore #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes blurb #📝

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hella1975 · 9 months

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i keep seeing videos of hozier belting the bridge for unknown nth and it’s so beautiful and haunting and AFSGGGAHAGSGHAAU but i havent actually listened to the album yet because the time and mental energy required for that simply hasn’t been available to me and without thinking i just went ��UGH i want to listen to hozier’s new album SO BAD’ and my sister was like??? just do it then??? and im here like no i cant. im physically incapable of ‘just’ doing it im afraid i have to make it a Thing. yeah im not happy about being this way either

#like truly i CANT listen until i know I’ve got the time to sit down for the entire thing AND the energy to get all the lyrics up and analyse #them all and truly experience it all like that. freakish behaviour #so for the people that have already asked for my thoughts pls know IM WORKING ON IT #hozier

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fated-normal-767 · 1 month

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I don’t think you ever elaborated on Iris stabbing Python in the thigh with a screw driver, care to change that ?

hm. I think I do care to change that (read more because I wrote a whole damn paragraph about that freak❗️)

well initially a damaging impact to a central part of a computer system would be like stabbing an ice pick into someone’s brain, so it’d cause almost all typical signs of a seizure; sudden muscle movement, collapsing, inability to respond coherently to input, and possible inability to breathe. Python designed himself to have extremely human responses and biological systems, so despite a lack of real lungs or muscles, all of those are still entirely possible visible symptoms. In terms of actually being stabbed, it’d have the same feeling of pain as being stabbed while the impact was just in pythons ‘flesh’ but impact with an actual motherboard component would cause an override of initial programmed reactions (in which he’d normally feel a human amount of pain and react as if physically injured due to the stimuli created, even if no key components are damaged at all) and start causing responses and stimuli more in line with a program trying to desperately diagnose, redirect, and reassign errors. In order to figure out what solutions should take place, an error diagnosis would require increased awareness of both the sensation of the stabbing, and all the created error input, probably causing signal and awareness of other stimuli to become temporarily impaired, and an appearance of either collapsing entirely or going into shock. The pain of the stabbing would probably come back at this point, after being dulled by error inputs. For a redirecting of necessary functions, he’d probably lose feeling entirely in the site of the injury, and gain an increased awareness of sensation at any other sites of key components, which then are assigned any recovery processes, and at which point, shock and seizure symptoms would wear off, but python would remain unconscious for a short period of time till all errors were repressed or dealt with to a limited extent- if he remained unconscious till entirely repaired, he’d be incredibly vulnerable to more injuries with absolutely 0 ways to defend himself. Shortly after regaining consciousness he would feel nauseous, or some similar experience, and would probably be much more vulnerable to sensory overstimulation and overload considering he has less capacity to process stimuli.

#whether this is my medical knowledge programming knowledge or strange freakish behaviours talking I do not know.#but. hm. I mean it reads like a medical report but it can also be easily read as about gay sex (unintentional but not surprising)#this is the basic medical perspective on what must’ve happened #but be aware that iris was there too and he was freaking the fuck out #most likely trying to help but with extremely limited knowledge of how #so probably just providing more ‘unwanted’ stimuli for the already overwhelming seizure type shit #and unwanted is in quotation marks for whatever reasons you think it should be ❗️#maybe this can’t be read as like gay sex at all and there’s just something wrong with #my perceptions of medical situations and analysis. but it’#it’s Whatever.#theproject.

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vimbry · 6 months

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listen I swear I have interests that don't involve me finding at least one man involved in it attractive. unfortunately, many things contain men.

#I can't do it man I can't resist the dry and stoic exterior with freakish behaviour beneath type #lieutenant kitsuragi if you're out there

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activemagnesiumcream3000 · 2 months

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i think if more people ate paper as children it would solve 90% of society's current issues

#thinkign about this #i was not a paper eater but maybe i Should have been #on like a serious level i think it is very important that this kind of 'weird kid' behaviour be #normalised more #because sometimes a kid is weird and sometimes a kid is neurodivergent #anyway i think if people ate paper they would be more understanding of freakish little children and neurodivergent people #adhd #autism #paper #cannot stress how funny it is to me tagging single words like that #people who follow the paper tag i hope you enjoy this post

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sunriseverse · 10 months

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every time i write zrs i’m violently reminded of the fact that i, too, am fucking WEIRD about devotion.

#zrs: i need nothing but my loyalty and the purpose of my service #me (well adjusted): yeah that sounds legit me too #everyone else watching his freakish behaviour about fy: what the fuck what the fuckkkkk #god he’s such a tragic figure in so many ways i love him #c.txt

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nicastamatis · 2 years

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went in the summerland tag for like idk. nice gifsets or whatever and found this freak who uses it to hate on meghan markle???????

#freakish insane behaviour

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letsgetrowdy43 · 1 year

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I support Quinton’s wrongs. Always.

#rotalks<3 #he’s my wife #get his ass #i support Huggy wrongs #he’s out for blood #my little mma fighter <3 #mad man on the loose #freakish behaviour #i want him soooo bad #i wanna bite him

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set-underwear-to-no · 2 years

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People who want more than 2 kids are freaks

#even if i love u.#bruh #that is freakish behaviour

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the-90s-music-colosseum · 6 months

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Round 5, Match 2

propaganda below the cut! (wall of text warning)

Selena:

"truly probably one of the most beautiful women to have ever walked this earth. voice of an angel, dazzling smile, looks like she smells good"

"if u don't vote selena ur mexicanphobic /j"

Brian Molko:

"Gender"

"IM GOING TO EAT HER. He is soooo beautiful and freakish and small and weird and girlfriend and tiny like a little princess bug fairy. Literally gorgeous she has to win"

"When he flipped over the table with the little limp wrist.... someone find the video"

"1998 woman of the year"

"Brian Molko is peak gender envy, gender bending and being yourself without caring about other people's opinion, on top of all that he is a great guitarist that writes amazing songs"

"Brian’s gonna win this. I think we all kinda know that."

"Tumblrinas would be nothing without Brian molko"

"Kills her kills her kills her kills her kills her kills him kills her. He's my everything <3"

"He came 10th in the list of hottest women sometimes in the 90s. Gender goals."

"No one in the world can sound so nasal and look so angelic....."

"don't you wish you had his gender"

"Single-handedly took my gender by the scruff of the neck and threw it in a washing machine at full speed. He talked about not expecting to "get away with" passing as a woman to the degree that he did when he started purposely presenting feminine. He talked about the importance to fuck with people's heads through his appearance and behaviour, the importance of ambiguity. About how being in the band allowed him to do stuff he couldn't have done otherwise, to exaggerate some of his traits. He had the fuck ass bob makeup nail polish dresses stuff down, but not in an overly sophisticated way, especially in the early career 90s days the vibe was more shabby punk rock chick. Also he fantasized about being in an all-girl band called Skirt and playing guitar and singing backing vocals in drag. According to a 1997 melody maker interview bandmate steve hewitt called him "the most confused woman he's ever known". And if you go down that rabbit hole there's just more of this. Lots of material to focus on if you like genderweird bisexual unclean libertines (song ref) who will just say Anything in interviews. It's fun."

"I've drawn him as saints and martyrs such as saint sebastian and joan of arc. Or all bloody lying in a wet alley after being thrown out of a club. Or unconscious on a snowy road. Or dying in a glue trap. Or shocked after seeing a dead body. Also as a nun and as rose mcgowan in the doom generation. This is because I'm normal."

"She's a sick little angel faced freak. My theythem girlboy queen. He reminds me of an ant. He's like 5 foot 4 or something. My goth girl boyfriend. <3"

#most attractive 90s musician #poll #polls #90s music #tournament #selena quintanilla #selena quintanilla perez #brian molko #placebo

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tommarvoloriddlesdiary · 5 months

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Share your lastest WIP! If you want 👀

which one 🥲😂😭💀 i have a few - will this do?

“They’re quite odd, aren’t they?”

Abraxas is snickering when he says it. He’s just loud enough to grate - nothing new - but in what should be the quiet sanctity of the library, his tone sufficiently pulls Tom from his reading.

His eyes lock on Abraxas across from him and flick to the ‘they’ in question.

And, of course, it’s the Grangers.

Since entering the magical community, Tom has learned a thing or two about their societal norms. An interesting component being that it is surprisingly challenging to be seen as ‘odd’ here. A wixen can be any number of things: lazy, stupid, poor, muggle - the list goes on, but ‘odd’ is a category used sparingly when directed towards each other. Much unlike the muggles Tom has known and grown his whole life around.

He was always seen as odd by them - freakish - and continues to be whenever he returns to the orphanage for summer. So he doesn’t much care for the word.

Besides, if anything, the Grangers aren't even worth gawking over and snickering about. Their worst can be summed up to anti-socialistic, codependent, and exclusionary behaviours - probably a trauma response from the war. They clearly have no interest in playing house with their dormmates or the rest of the school, so why bother?

They are sitting beneath the second-story stair landing where the elves have managed to shove one last table. It’s one of the more tucked away and private places on this level — a place Tom would not consider and will not consider; he needs to be visible, available — and they’ve claimed it like it’s never belonged to anyone else. Like it was placed there just for them. Their ease of acclimation to Hogwarts as a whole has certainly raised some eyebrows, yet still, he isn’t concerned.

He had also known Hogwarts was his home the moment he had stepped foot in it, after all. He is not so foolish as to believe himself an outlier.

Hermione Granger’s hands are waving wildly, turning in circles and gesturing in a vague sphere-like shape. She’s talking aloud - not that Tom, or anyone else, can hear it - and doesn’t seem to like what she’s saying, given the harsh line between her brows. Ronald Granger is sitting in front of her and starts shaking his head. He says something and reaches across the table to take her wrists — expands them — the sphere becomes an oval.

Harry Granger sits beside them pensive, with his head down and reading carefully from a book in his hands. He starts to turn the page but pauses; he frowns and looks up.

He looks right at Tom.

Granger blinks once, slowly. He mouths something, but it’s not directed towards Tom because his siblings turn to look at him. It only lasts a moment before they suddenly turn around to stare at Tom as well, their eyes wide and alarmed.

Tom watches on as Harry Granger slouches - maybe sighs? He shakes his head and palms his face in something like dismay. It doesn't take a legilimens to read his lips now—

“You are both such idiots.” He says.

The corner of Tom’s lips curl. It’s possibly a smile. He’ll never call it that out loud.

“Very,” he finally replies to Abraxas.

#tomarry #tomarrymort #harrymort #my fic #unnamed fic #pov: tom #knights meeting #555 words exactly #must be a sign #if you believe in that sort of thing #thank you for sending in an ask - i won't lie when i first saw it i wasn't going to post anything because i only read the first part #and i was thinking - no one shall demand anything of me #but then i saw the second half #😂😂😂😂😂#also this should look familiar #i've posted something related to it before - but i've made changes #for starters i gave them all hermione's last name instead #at the hour i am posting this - hopefully no one will see it 😂

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im-robins-bitch · 1 year

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Something borrowed, something blue (Robin Buckley x Afab!reader) 18+

Or, Robin has a bad habit of taking your things, but gets more than she bargained for when you find out (1.5k)

(Warnings, reader wears tradionally 'girly' underwear thongs ect, implied fingering, kinda pev Robin, underwear stealing, implied pussy eating, implied thigh riding/tribing,)

Something you didn’t find out about Robin until you started dating her, is that she’s kind of a klepto.

It starts small, you leave your favourite chapstick at her house and she just never gives it back. She borrows a shirt one night when she stays over and every time it comes back up she claims she hasn’t had time to wash it yet. You tell her you don’t mind, that she doesn’t need to wash it at all. She insists and says she got some stain on it, the origin of the stain changes every retelling. One night, caught off guard by a surprise visit, she opens the door wearing the shirt in question. You decide not to mention it as she makes a subtle dash to get a sweater, the shirt stain free.

Besides her appreciation for your clothing (which you indulge her in because you think it’s sweet), you remain clueless about her thievery.

She only realises how much she’s actually taking when she’s got a small pile going. The lip balm, a scrunchie, a practically empty bottle of your favourite lotion, a cheap ring that started to turn your fingers green (she stole that at the same time as the lotion). Helping you clean out your bathroom had been a lucrative experience for her. The shirt she initially took sits in her cupboard along with a threadbare jumper and a pair of gloves you had lent her when she was cold.

It isn’t until a particular incident that you realise just how sticky her fingers truly are.

You had been in the shower while Robin stayed in your room. The magazine she had been reading lost her attention and she quickly found herself rifling through your things. She wanted to get some clothes all laid out for you, she wanted to be helpful.

Then she's pulling out your underwear drawer and her heart leaps in her chest. It’s not like she hasn’t seen you in most of them before, in fact, most of them she knows very well. Her fingers graze the different panties, feeling the various fabrics and reminiscing.

The silk pair you wore when you were still trying to impress. They made her choke on her own spit the first time she saw them. She had been scared out of her mind that she was going to mess everything up somehow. Now, over six months later you were still going strong.

There was the black thong you liked to wear on movie nights because of how easy it was for her to slip her fingers into you and the lack of fabric didn’t restrict her movements the way other panties did.

She stopped on a simple white pair, tucked right up into the corner. A simple bow adorned the cotton underwear and even though it was the simplest pair you owned they were her favourite. She loved the way you would whine for her whenever she would tug on the bow and make the waistband slap against your skin. All the times she would see a wet patch on these very panties, sometimes from you and other times from her running her tongue over them. Without even thinking she grabbed them and stuffed them into her pocket.

As soon as she got home and realised what she had done she felt like the worst girlfriend in the world. Chapstick is one thing, but your panties? She was sure you would think she was some pervert. She knew at this point she had to stop, she didn’t want you to find out about this freakish habit so she knew she had to kick it.

The next day she returns your t-shirt and you hide a frown as she does it. She then spends the next week trying to find a reason to go into your bedroom so she can put your panties back.

She decides to sneak them into the laundry basket one day, flinching as you walk in just as she drops the evidence into the basket. You raise your brow at her behaviour, but she acts like you're being the weird one as if you didn’t just find her staring mournfully at your dirty clothes.

She acts strange for the rest of the day and brushes off your offer of staying the night because she has work. Though you know for a fact she doesn’t because she told you she didn’t three days ago on the phone.

When she’s gone you decide to look at the laundry basket, figuring she might have taken one of your shirts again, you were kind of hoping she had. It might have been a sign of possessiveness or it might just have been the fact that you didn’t really get to partake in PDA with your girlfriend without becoming the town freak.

You look in, expecting to be missing something only to find you’ve gained something. There you find the panties you had been missing, the pair Robin adored more than anything. It was impossible for her to see you in them and for you to not end up sitting on her face.

Suddenly you realised that your girlfriend didn’t just like stealing your T-shirts.

You felt your panties dampening and ignored the disappointment when you reached for the panties to find them as clean as they were when they disappeared.

Thinking back to Robins's odd behaviour, the way she suddenly gave your t-shirt back, the look on her face when she was looking at the panties she was returning, you decided you were going to show your girl that what was yours was hers.

Robin was back to normal, her puckered lips pressing brief kisses to your thighs as she slowly made her way up. Your hold on her head tightened, back arching in an attempt to get her closer, to make her linger just a little bit longer.

She must have felt guilty for stealing your panties because you hadn’t seen her properly all week. It was torture, because ever since you’d been plagued with thoughts of Robin.

Wondering what it was she took them for? Did she put them over her pillow to hump? Did she press them against her face as she fingered herself, gag herself with them, bunch them and rub them against her until they were soaked?

The thought was enough to make you moan again and rut against her face. You wanted her to hurry up and pull your shorts off, but she just kept pushing the material up higher and higher. Her nose rubbed against the skin of your thighs as she sucked your skin, causing you to whimper and whine.

You were supposed to be the one teasing, you wanted her to see the panties you had worn especially for her. “Need you,” You begged, hand grasping at her cheek to bring her gaze to you. Her teeth sunk into the fleshy bit of your thigh, her ocean eyes not leaving your own. “Please, Rob” You practically sobbed.

She moved back up, her hands moving from cupping your ass to the waistband of your shorts. She kissed your stomach and slowly kissed each bit of revealed skin as she slowly removed your shorts. Her teasing pace continued until she saw something familiar that caused her to yank them down to get a better look.

You were wearing a striped pair of navy blue cotton panties, her navy cotton panties. “Is that..are those..?”

Her cheeks turned pink as your legs moved further apart. There was no mistaking it, those were definitely hers. You must have known it too because you would always tease her about them. They reminded you of her old scoops uniform.

“I figured since you borrowed mine, I could borrow yours” You grinned at her, looking like the cat that got the cream. Her eyes zeroed in on the damp patch on the panties and how they clung skin tight against you because of it.

“I-I…I can explain” Robin stuttered, suddenly all shy. The tables had turned, as you sat up and she began to lean away, embarrassed at her own actions.

As she sunk lower, casting her gaze to the floral duvet as she tried to ramble together an incoherent explanation, you moved up.

Your legs were slung over her hips, weight resting on your knees that dug into the mattress on either side of her while your pantie-covered pussy pressed against her pubic bone. Her mind was whirling, you could tell because of the way her eyes never stopped moving and rambling turned into mumbling. How could she explain that she didn’t mean to take them and that she didn’t do anything with them when she could feel your slick starting to coat her skin?

You didn't normally like to cut her off, you always let her speak until she was finished or had tired herself out. This time though, you shushed her with an open-mouthed kiss and a buck of your hips.

“I don’t mind, my pretty girl can take any of my things she wants.” You soothed, lips brushing against hers with every syllable. “But if you’re gonna get off with my panties-” Robin’s eyes closed in anticipation of a reprimand but felt your lips ghosting her cleavage as you whispered against her skin. “I at least want an invitation to watch.”

masterlist

#robin buckley x reader #robin buckley fluff #robin buckley smut #robin buckley fanfiction #robin buckley fanfic #robin buckley drabble #robin buckley self insert #robin buckley x fem reader #robin buckley x afab reader #robin buckley x you #robin buckley x y/n

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konigsblog · 3 months

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The fact that they posted again and said that not only are they talking abt you but other blogs. They need to sit tf down, besies that you're right, I've NEVER seen you write abt pedophilia. Anyway, love your stories and congrats on 12k 😙😙 !!!

it's funny how quick they were to shut down the conversation, it's because they KNEW they were wrong. if they weren't just talking about me, they wouldn't ONLY mention my name ...

it's crazy, freakish behaviour, honestly ! 😬

and thank you !! i'm super grateful for 12,000 angels !! :'3 🤍🌷

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anotherfansthings · 1 year

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The Happy Couple

Neteyam x f!OmaticayaReader

Synopsis: Y/N’s father was once a fellow warrior to the Ole’eyktan Jake Sully, who died in battle against the sky people. As a dying wish, Sully promised he would take care of and protect his daughter, but what she wasn’t aware of was that they had dealt something of much greater significance. Becoming a future Tsahik to the Ole’eyktan’s eldest son: Neteyam.

Enemies to lovers | Slight violence

PART TWO :

Once Neteyam had began comforting you, your parents had quietly left the hut in the hopes that it would allow you and your new mate to spark upon the new relationship. They couldn't have been farther from the truth. The moment Jake and Neytiri had gathered Lo'ak, Tuk and Kiri from the ending party, a roar of shouting erupted from the family home.

'No Neteyam, I can't do this, WE can't do this. It is beyond disgusting that we should be forced to continue like this.' Y/N exclaimed, now arguing through boiling tears

'Can't you see sister, [clears throat] Y/N sorry, that we don't have a choice' Neteyam reasoned, quickly becoming frustrated 'you either prove yourself well for this clan, or leave with a great shame and weakness to your name'

It then became clear that rebelling against this would not only hurt your image, but also that of your families, who are already frowned upon with the sharing of demon blood.

'Please, there are many believable stories that mother and father can share to the people to excuse me from this whole deal. I could migrate to another clan, far into the skies, no one would figure the lies being told. Then we can both be left to peace and freedom.' Y/N pleaded, practically begging her supposed mate to consider her offer

Neteyam hung his head low 'My Y/N, you know that is not an option'

'There in no your Y/N!' Your screamed, hoping that if you were distraught enough this nightmare would end and you would wake into sanity

Neteyam was quick to cross the hut and carefully grab your arms, trying to calm your ever growing anger, to which he thought was going to make you implode at any second.

You then tried to push him away, wanting to escape and be alone from everyone, but he was adamant on holding you together. Without any thought, you pushed him from your arms and shoved his chest, leaving him to fall against the wall with a loud crash.

The piercing noise sounded well out of the hut, alarming your family who were now running towards where you two were, with Neytiri being the first to find the pair and demand the reason for their noise.

'Mother, sorry I just struck out and-' Y/N mumbled, clearly now being tired from the challenging day

'No Y/N' Neteyam interrupted 'I am to blame Mother, she was upset and I was consoling her in an inappropriate manner'

Neytiri sighed at the growing situation 'Both of you are to blame, you are adults, future leaders of Omaticaya. This childish behaviour needs to stop, you have the joint responsibility of the people now to think about: all that will come with your future roles.'

You and Neteyam shared a quick guilty look, before finding your father and relations join the hut.

'Lo'ak, Tuk, Kiri, please sit' ordered Jake

Your siblings all look up with a sense of confusion, feeling the tension that was overshadowing the air.

Kiri was unable to contain herself any longer 'What is with the freakish looks on you pair of skxawngs' she teased, but settled her giggles after she was met with unsettling looks from both her parents

'We have news' Jake announced, and then looked at his eldest son, indicating for him to finish

'Yes... news' Neteyam repeated 'myself and Y/N are to become the next Ole'eyktan and Tsahik'

Lo'ak began laughing profusely 'Wow brother, you are a funny kind, this joke is very good'

Y/N let out a little snicker 'I wish'

Jake shot a stern look towards you, 'Watch it child' he warned

Now Kiri and Lo'ak had come to the realisation that everyone was being extremely serious.

'Who decided on the matter, do they not know Y/N and Neteyam are relations to each other?' Kiri questioned

Jake was hit with saddened past memories, before concluding that 'It was decided when they were young, younger than Tuk even, when Y/N's father had passed in battle'

You turned around to face the wall, wanting to hide your face that was now puffy with tears spilling. Neteyam was reluctant to come to your side from your past reactions to his comforts, however Jake pushed his son to your direction. You heard the commotion just as Neteyam reached out to you, but you immediately removed yourself and swiftly left the family in an attempt to collect your ungodly thoughts.

Your exit made Tuk shoot up and run to her mother 'Where did sister Y/N go', beginning the fret

Neytiri held her youngest, 'She has just gone for a little walk in the forest, for some fresh air, that is all sweet girl' she insisted whilst Tuk nodded happily

'Do you understand what is going to happen baby girl?' Jake quizzed Tuk

She was clearly lost in thought, but went on to exclaim 'Yes Father I do!' bringing a smile to her parents faces 'Brother is going to rule all our friends, and then Y/N is going to have a turn'

Neytiri and Jake amused her attempt at what was going to happen, but Neteyam took the initiative and bowed to his sisters level, in order to correct her ideas

'Yes Tuk Tuk, you are very close. Me and Y/N will rule all of our friends, but we will do it at the same time, like mother and father are'

Once Neteyam related it all to his parents, she seemed to understand, but still insisted on pulling her brother so she could whisper something in his ear whilst giggling.

Neteyam met her eye level with a subtle laugh at her excitement, 'Of course, we will have babies just as perfect as you sister'

'Yeyy, more friends to play with Tuk Tuk' she proclaimed, before skipping off with an endless smile on her face

'At least someones happy' Jake uttered

Lo'ak and Kiri had been quietly sharing whispers between one another since Neteyam had confirmed about the idea of you two having children.

'Brother' Lo'ak started 'were you just humouring her when you said about Y/N bearing your children?'

Neteyam felt forced to lower his gaze to the ground to avoid the affliction coming from his younger brother.

'But no-' Lo'ak tried

But Jake was quick to intervene 'Boy don't you dare start, everything we've said is final and that is the end of it'

Not even a second had passed before Lo'ak had stormed off to the entrance of the hut, weighing up his options of whether to convince his parents otherwise or to attack his brother.

'I'll show you great warrior' Lo'ak growled before pouncing full force onto Neteyam

'You guys this is pathetic, if you want to fight get weapons' shouted Kiri, who was searching for anything to make their battle more entertaining.

Jake sighed with his hand over his face 'Kiri don't you even think about it'

After blood was drawn from both opponents, and bruises were beginning to sting, they separated but remained in position, ongoing with their dispute.

'You little skxawgn, just had to steal Y/N didn't you, just like you scared off all of my other friends' Lo'ak complained 'can't stand to see anyone else with something you want'

Neteyam felt shook and upset that this was the reason behind his brothers pouncing.

'Brother I am not-'

'YES YOU ARE, MY BEST FRIEND, AND NOW I HAVE NO ONE` Lo'ak scolded before running off to find you

Neytiri now had a dark feeling of guilt creeping up, being at cause of the 2 shattered and distressed children.

'Oh Neteyam' his mother whispered

The parents decided to allow you and Lo'ak to cool off within your own company, maybe focus your thoughts and realise the greater good that will come of this.

Yet Neteyam felt a need to go out in search of you, less so his brother who he deemed would need more time to come to terms with the new relationship. But what he never expected to find was the two of you closely together... under The Tree of Voices.

TAGLIST:

@ellielovesrobinarellano

#neteyam #neytiri sully #jake sully #sully family #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x you #neteyam x reader #neteyam imagine #y/n

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