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andreafmn · 8 months

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Speak | Chapter 14

Word Count: 4.1K

Summary: Bella Swan was a disaster when Edward had left. Deciding she needed a little help, Charlie Swan receives with open arms his younger daughter (Y/N) Swan. She helps Bella during her depression and becomes inseparable from her long-lost friend Jacob. What she didn’t expect was falling for a hotheaded short-tempered silver wolf.

A/N: this chapter is way longer than I thought it would be and all I'm saying about it is that the next couple of chapters are gonna be a shitshow 🤭🤭 Also, tried to keep the taglist as it was and to add people, but Tumblr won't let me post the chapter with how many there are. TAGLIST CLOSED

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Not seeing Jacob for almost three weeks had not been as catastrophic as (Y/N) had thought it would be. It had been odd, she couldn’t lie. She had gotten used to seeing him at least once or twice in a week and coming home to an empty house had been unusual. Still, it had not sent her into the comatose whirlwind her sister had fallen into after her boyfriend had seemingly disappeared from the face of the earth.

Charlie hadn’t questioned it at first. Mostly because (Y/N) didn’t seem any different, and she still talked to someone on the phone most days. Nothing was amiss in the eyes of the household.

Until a switch flipped inside Bella. Halfway through (Y/N)’s Jacob detox, her older sister started to disappear a couple of times a week. She didn’t know where she was going or what she was doing, but she was happy that Bella seemed to be doing better. Whether it had been because of their father’s ultimatum or because she genuinely was starting to move on didn’t matter. (Y/N) was simply happy that her sister seemed content.

Her mind was also occupied with a certain boy and what he had done to make sure she was okay. In the days after the accident, he called her every morning and every night, reminding her to change her bandages and apply antibiotic ointment. He always asked how her bruise was doing and made sure she remembered to ice it every night. He had made her feel cared for, and he had made sure she knew that someone out there was watching out for her well-being.

The feelings that fluttered in (Y/N)’s heart were still unclear to her. She couldn’t deny the magnetism that pulled her toward Paul, and the more she got to know him, the more she understood her gravitation toward him. Just not what had spurred it on.

“Hey, (Y/N), I’m going out soon,” Bella called out. “I left some breakfast done in the microwave.”

“Where are you going?” (Y/N) asked, peering her head down the stairs.

“On a hike.”

“By yourself again?”

“Uh, yeah. I’m trying to get used to being there by myself again.”

“If you give me a couple of minutes to get ready, I could go with you. Make sure you don’t fall this time,” the younger girl offered. “I wouldn’t mind some sisterly bonding..”

“Uh, well... you know, maybe next time?” Bella stammered. “I’m kind of short on time, and I have a shift at Newton’s soon after.”

“Oh, that’s okay. Just be careful, then. Wouldn’t want another ER visit.”

“Right,” she chuckled dryly. “I’ll see you later, (Y/N).”

“Yeah. See you.”

Much like the past weeks, even if she was doing well, Bella seemed to be avoiding her sister. And it felt no different than when she wouldn’t speak at all. At least at that point, she would at least meet (Y/N)’s eyeline. It had sent her down a spiral as she wondered what she had done for her sister to spend as little time as she could with her.

But she had no time to dwell on her sister’s rejection. She didn’t want to. Instead, she packed a backpack full of art supplies –paints, brushes, and a canvas notebook. The items were coated with a layer of dust, left abandoned and untouched for many years.

(Y/N) had grown up loving everything artistic. It was a side Bella was not in tune with, and it had made her feel closer to her mother because of it. When they had been on the road, many a time did Renée and her youngest daughter stop by a creek or a clearing to paint the scenery before them. If they didn’t paint, they would prop up a couple of chairs and spend hours knitting or crocheting. Those were the moments she thought there would be a possibility that she and Bella could be on equal footing.

As she got ready to go, she realized there was no way she had no way of getting anywhere near the place she had in mind without a set of wheels. Her father had promised that as soon as he could, he would get her a car, but for the time being, she was stuck hitching rides with her sister to school and depending on others to drive her anywhere. She never realized how inconvenient it was to not have a car now that she was… single?

(Y/N) walked to the phone in the kitchen, dialed the number she had unknowingly memorized, and waited for a response. “Hey,” she smiled as the call was picked up. “Are you, by chance, doing anything right now?”

“Not really,” Paul said through the phone. “I should be doing homework, but I am up for anything that gets me out of it.”

“Well, if it’s not too much trouble, do you think you could pick me up? I was in the mood of painting in the woods, somewhere by the trailhead off the one-ten, but I have no way of getting there.”

“I’ll be there in ten.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to bother you if you have something to do.”

“It’s absolutely no problem, (Y/N),” he said. “I’ll see you soon.”

After he hung up the phone, (Y/N) went ahead and finished packing the rest of the supplies she would need, as well as food and drinks for the trip. If she was going to make him make the trip to and from Forks, she could at least make it worth his while. In a lunchbox cooler, she placed the remaining slices of a cake she had made the week before, BLT sandwiches she quickly put together, and anything else she could find in the fridge and around the kitchen that would be good to snack on –crackers and cheese, some assorted vegetables and fruits, chips, and bottles of water and a couple of cans of soda.

By the time Paul reached her front door, she was carrying a full backpack on her back and a couple of bags in her arms. “Are you moving to the forest?” he chuckled the moment he saw her reaching for the heaviest ones. “I didn’t think this outing would be so life-changing.”

“Well, my things are on my back,” she explained. “The lunchbox is filled to the top with food and drinks, then that bag has a blanket and some other dry snacks. I might be forcing you to make this long trip, so I thought I would at least feed you in exchange.”

“You’re not forcing me to do anything,” Paul smiled softly. “But I appreciate the food. I may have also brought along some things to eat.”

“Great minds think alike, it seems,” she returned his grin. “Then, thank you for driving me. I’m sure there are a million other ways you would rather spend a Saturday.”

“Not really,” he shrugged as he opened the passenger door for (Y/N) after placing all of the bags in the back. “You honestly saved me from a very boring English paper on The Great Gatsby.”

“I actually read that book last year,” she added as Paul turned the truck on. “It’s really good once you get into the story.”

“How have you already read it? I thought you were a sophomore.”

“I didn’t read it for school,” she chuckled. “Surprisingly enough, you can read things without being graded on them and like them. It’s actually one of my favorites.”

“Then I guess I will just have to give it a fair chance,” he said. His eyes snapped to hers for a quick second before focusing on the road once more, and she couldn’t help the rush that it sent through her. “If it’s one of your favorites, then it must have some type of redeeming quality.”

“I’m sure you’ll like it,” (Y/N) smiled. “As long as you give it a chance.”

As soon as they reached the end of the dirt road that took them to the trailhead, Paul took hold of all of the bags before opening the door for (Y/N) and helping her out. And the second she went for a bag, he started walking.

“I just want to help carry something,” she called out with a chuckle as he put distance between them. “I brought most of the things.”

“Why would you have to carry anything when I’m right here?”

“Because I want to help.”

“You’d have to catch up to me to do that,” he smirked, walking backward through the trail. “Which is impossible, so I guess I’m carrying the bags.”

“I don’t even know where we should go,” she laughed, taking off in a small trot to reach him. “This is as far as I thought.”

“Good thing you have the best guide then. I’m as good at moving through the woods as I am at carrying bags.”

“Lead the way then,” (Y/N) smiled.

Paul allowed (Y/N) to catch up to him once she renounced the idea of carrying anything. She followed every step he made, wondering what destination he had in mind. The last time she had even come close to being in the midst of the trees of Washington had been when she was a child. Too many times, little (Y/N), Bella, and the Black children would escape to the woods even when Billy and Charlie had warned them many times not to.

Those were the moments she missed the most. When the only thing they were worried about was having fun and keeping their escapades from their parents. There were no complicated feelings or uncertainty in their relationships. There was no confusion or pain. No ill will or misguided intentions. They were just kids trying their best to make the most out of their summer.

When Paul finally came to a stop, (Y/N) felt a sense that she had been in that very spot before. From the rays that peeked through the treetops that reached each other to create a covering to the flat expanse of grass; from the quiet pond to the rocks that bordered its shore. She could bet almost everything she had on the fact that, if she hadn’t been there, she had seen it before.

“This is perfect,” she found herself muttering. “How did you know about this place?”

“I told you I was the best guide for these woods,” he smirked. “I know all of the best spots in these woods.”

They settled close to the pond, one of the only places the sun shined onto. In the cold of February, the warmth made that place that much more perfect. She straightened the blanket onto the ground, setting the food in one corner and the paint supplies in another, leaving the center empty for them.

(Y/N) sat first, pulling item after item from her backpack, setting them in between her and where Paul sat after. He watched her every move, curiosity filling his eyes. Especially as she handed him a piece of canvas paper and a set of brushes.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” he asked as he eyed the items in his hands. “I can’t paint.”

“You don’t have to know how to paint to just have fun painting,” she offered. “But you don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just get very quiet and in my own head when I paint, so I thought it’d be good for you to have something to do while I basically disappear for a while.”

“I’ll give it a try then,” Paul smiled, taking back the items (Y/N) had reached for. “But you have to promise you won’t laugh at it.”

“I promise.”

The younger Swan had not been lying when she said she got quiet. As soon as her brush hit the canvas and she felt inspiration rush through her, it was as though she was by herself. Her hand moved before thoughts could fill her head. She couldn’t see or hear anything but what was coming to life in front of her. Stroke after stroke, color after color, her painting was the only thing she could think of.

Before (Y/N) knew it, an hour and a half had passed, and her painting was done. As she slowly came back into the present, she looked up for the first time since she had sat down. Paul was staring at her with something in his eyes that was there every time he looked at her. Even if she didn’t know what it was, she knew that it made her feel good.

“Hi there,” he said with a slight chuckle. “You weren’t kidding when you said you’d disappear.”

“Oh, sorry,” she said, growing red with embarrassment. “Have you been waiting long?”

“Nah, you’re good. It was honestly fascinating,” Paul smiled. His brown eyes looked like they were on fire under the orange sun, drawing her in like nothing ever before. “What were you working on?”

“Show me what you did first,” (Y/N) responded, shielding the canvas from his line of sight.

“It will definitely not be as good,” he frowned. “I was not blessed with this kind of artistic talent.”

“I’m sure it’s not that bad. Show me.”

He turned his canvas paper slowly, revealing a painting that was amateurish at its best but still adorable. It seemed he had drawn the view before him. A striking blue pond with vibrant green grass, fluffy trees that met by their branches with thick dark trunks, and what seemed to be the shape of a girl looking down at a piece of paper. Anyone would have thought that a child had done it, but it made (Y/N) smile so hard it made her cheeks hurt.

“Please don’t laugh,” he said sheepishly. “I told you I’m not good at this.”

“No, it’s cute. I love it. I don’t know how, but it’s very you.”

“Very me? You mean painfully childish?”

“Oh god, no!” (Y/N) quickly corrected. “It’s fun, it’s vibrant, it’s… it’s present. Sure, I can tell it’s by a beginner, but it still speaks to the way you view the world. And it’s beautiful.”

“Woah, well, I never thought of it that way. Much less that you could say so much of such a basis painting.” A smile spread across his face as he looked at his work with different eyes. They were kinder now, appreciative of the art he had made. “Now, let’s see yours.”

Once he asked again, she turned the notebook, careful not to smear whatever parts were still wet. Paul’s eyes opened big, and his mouth fell open in amazement. On the sheet, a dark grey wolf howled back at him. Its fur was completed with a mix of yellows and oranges to give it dimension, and its head was raised to the sky as it called out. She didn’t know how she had such a vivid image of a wolf in her mind, but she loved how it had turned out.

“Holy shit, that’s amazing!” Paul exclaimed as he took the notebook to inspect the art closer. “I knew you could paint, but I didn’t know you could paint like a professional.”

“I would hardly call myself a professional,” (Y/N) smiled. “And it’s been years since I’ve actually painted anything. But weirdly enough, I have been able to get the image of this wolf out of my head since I got to Forks.”

“That is weird,” he coughed awkwardly. “But it’s a beautiful painting, (Y/N).”

“Keep it,” she offered. “I will probably paint many more if it’s the only source of inspiration I’ve gotten in a long time.”

“I couldn’t. It’s your work.”

“And I want you to have it,” she insisted. “Please.”

“You’re twisting my hand, but fine,” he said with fake nonchalance. “It’s really good, though, (Y/N). You’re really talented.”

“Thank you, Paul. I’m just glad it’s something that ties me to my mother.”

“What do you mean?”

(Y/N) sighed before she answered. It was a topic she had never brought up to anyone. She had never felt like she could. Not to anyone close to her, at least. “I don’t know,” she breathed. “I guess I’ve always felt like I’ve needed to fight for people’s attention. Especially my parents. Everyone just seems to gravitate toward Bella, and I’m always left in her shadow. As we grew older, I found anything artistic came easy to me, and it’s one of the only things I have over my sister.

“And I know it sounds bad, but it made me feel good that she was bad at it. My mom would always go through some moments when all she wanted to do was paint or knit or whatever, and she’d always look for me when that happened. So, I made sure I would always practice so that she would keep asking me to join her.” (Y/N) could feel tears prickling in her eyes, threatening to spill as she finally said out loud what she had been keeping inside for years. Her head fell as she stared at her fingers, her attention falling on a little piece of skin that had lifted on her thumb. “With my dad, it’s a bit more difficult though. I feel like we get along well, but right now, he’s worried about Bella, and that takes up a lot of space in his mind. And somehow, I just keep falling through the cracks.”

“You should never have to beg for anyone’s attention, (Y/N),” Paul said, wiping away a tear she had not felt fall. “Have you ever told them about this?”

“No,” she answered sheepishly. “And right now, it’s not the best time. Bella seems to be getting better, and I wouldn’t want to jeopardize it.”

“But…”

“It’s okay, Paul. Really. I’m used to it by now,” she smiled as she dismissed the topic. “Now, let’s open up that lunchbox. I’m getting kind of hungry.”

She handed Paul one of the sandwiches as she placed the rest of the food and drinks between them. Not many words were exchanged between them as they ate, the boy downing most of the items at a surprising speed.

“So, tell me about your Great Gatsby assignment,” (Y/N) said, breaking the silence. “Maybe I could help you with it.”

“Well, I’m supposed to pick a central theme in the book and write how it’s presented in the story. But I’ve only gotten as far as the cover page, and the paper is due Monday.”

“Paul! You should be at home working on it! You made it sound like you had a lot more time to finish it.”

“Eh, it doesn’t really matter.”

“Okay, well, I could tell you one of my favorite themes. But I don’t know how interested you’ll be in writing about it.”

“Can’t be any worse than I already have,” he shrugged. “So, go ahead. Tell me about The Great Gatsby.”

“Well, I’ve always found the use of love and romance in the book very interesting,” she started, setting her food down on her lap as she got into what she was saying. “There’s this big debate on whether Daisy actually loved Gatsby, but I don’t think that’s the right question. What we are looking for in the story is whether Daisy loves Gatsby more than she loves wealth and status. Which, spoiler alert, she does not. Regardless of how Tom treats her, she stays with him because of what he can give her. She may have been infatuated with Gatsby, but the second something better came along, she forgot all about him. Until he shows up with money, and suddenly he’s at the top of her list. But new money can never be as strong as old money.

“Now, there’s the question of whether Gatsby is in love with Daisy, which is a completely different side of the same coin,” (Y/N) continued, settling more into her position. “I would say he isn’t. He is in love with this idea of Daisy that she simply is not. She’s cold and materialistic, and she’s only driven by what others can give her. She wants an easy life that she knows she will never get from Gatsby. Sure, he would never hurt her or cheat on her like Tom has, but she can never part with the simplicity she gets by staying with Tom. The Great Gatsby is painted as this unfortunate romance, filled with forbidden love and circumstantial obstacles, but truly it’s about a cunning woman that loves money and excitement more than she loves the men in her life.”

At that moment, (Y/N) didn’t note the irony of the story and how closely it related to her own situation. She didn’t feel like a Gatsby or a Daisy, much less did she see how she had her own version of Tom. But Paul drank each of her words like they were honey spilling from her lips. Not because he particularly cared about the story but because she loved it.

“You know what, you’ve actually convinced me to read the book,” he smiled before taking the last bite of his sandwich. “Don’t know if I’ll finish it by Monday, but I will definitely try.”

(Y/N) couldn’t help but laugh as a dollop of mayonnaise smeared on his cheek. She tried to point out where it was, but his comically outstretched tongue could not get to where it was. “Here,” she chuckled. She pulled a napkin out of the bag and wiped away the stain as they laughed. “Much bet…”

Suddenly, a rustling startled them, followed by laughter. For a moment, (Y/N) had forgotten that she was in the middle of the woods and that anyone could walk by at any moment. The pair got up on their feet, cautiously following where the sound came from while shielding themselves from view. But nothing could have prepared her for what she was about to see.

Bella and Jacob were coming down the trail, walking side by side as they talked and laughed. They had no idea they were being watched at that moment, and they were acting as much. Jake offered Bella his arm after she buckled in her step, and she gladly took it. And all she could think of was how that should have been her; that Bella should not have been the one to be holding onto Jake.

At that point, (Y/N) couldn’t hold her tears back anymore. It seemed that Jacob had decided that their relationship was over, and he was gladly moving on with the person that was closest to her. It made her heart wrench inside of her chest, shattering whatever hope still remained inside her. She didn’t know when it had happened, but her knees gave up on her, and she could only stay up by the hold Paul had on her.

But she couldn’t blame her sister. Not entirely, at least. (Y/N) hadn’t confided in her sister about any of the problems she’d had with Jake, and they had been friends long before (Y/N) had come back to Forks. Still, she couldn’t help but feel betrayed by the fact that her sister would lie to her about spending time with her boyfriend—ex-boyfriend?

Paul made a move to walk toward them, possibly to try and confront them, but (Y/N) stopped him, pleading with her eyes to wait until they were gone. “Why didn’t you let me go after them?” the boy asked the second the others were out of view. “Don’t you want to know why he’s been avoiding you and why the hell your sister is with him?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she sniffled. “Jake made it clear that he didn’t want to be with me if I couldn’t get Embry to leave you guys, and he’s just making good on his promise. And Bella doesn’t even know about all of that. He definitely didn’t tell her.”

“Then, why didn’t you expose him to her? Don’t you want her to know what he did?”

“(Y/N)…”

“Just take me home, please?” she asked. Her eyes were filling with new tears, and her lips quivered as she tried with all her might not to let them fall. “I just want to go home.”

“Alright,” Paul conceded.

They packed everything in silence, the air around them shifting and thickening. Long gone was the comfortable sunny day, now replaced with a coldness that seeped through their bones. All (Y/N) wanted now was to go back home and sink into her bed sheets. Seeing Jacob and Bella together had hurt her a lot more than not seeing him at all.

Next ->

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rose-tea-and-strawberries · 5 months

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Malleus x Reader Drabble

I write Reader as female

Masterlist

You really should be paying attention to what Malleus was saying, considering how considerate and enthusiastic he was. It was sweet of him, really, to offer you the seat next to him during break time when you offhandedly mentioned eating lunch alone in the library instead of at your usual table at the cafeteria because of Ace and Deuce’s shared detention - in fact, he even offered to help you with your Defense Magic essay. And what were you doing as a response to his kindness? Letting his words fade away as you observed how the sunlight did an exquisite job at highlighting his orphic beauty.

Despite being a creature of the night, a puissant being who can play with and control the nocturnal elements of his as easily and elegantly as he does his beloved violin, he looked just as ethereal under celestial rays as he does bathed in the colours of his domain.

You never really understood his cloak-and-dagger reputation, considering the fact that the same fairy whose name never failed to drain the blood from your schoolmates’ faces was also the one who’d pout childishly when Lilia would deny him his second box of ice cream or light up giddily whenever his Gao-Gao Dragon-kun would so much as move a pixel. Of course, you yourself felt the chill of intimidation slither up your spine when you saw the way he presented himself in public, from the way authority and might would adhere his form in every step he took, to the way resolution was laced in every word he spoke, to how he could rebuild an entire demolished building from crushed rubble to brand new in a blink of an eye. You were more than aware that the companion to your nighttime rendezvous was someone who should be respected and feared.

But the strangest thing was - you never felt scared. Sure you had your moments of awe and outright reverence whenever his pure, unadulterated power was displayed, but you could never really feel anything other than that tempting allure that would tug you towards him, the tendrils of curiosity that made you want to know more about him. When you first met, you felt a kinship, a fondness to another lonely soul who felt out of place amongst their peers.

“Are you feeling well, child of man?” a deep velvety voice pulled you out of your reverie and you sheepishly noted how the page of your notebook was still mainly blank, your traitorous fingers having chosen to absentmindedly swirl your pen between them instead of jotting down what he was saying.

“Oh well I-,” you felt your face heat up at your obvious distracted mind, “I’m really sorry Tsunotarou, truly I - I guess I was just uh-”

“‘Away with the fairies’ is the correct term, I believe,” he gave you a fond smile.

“Well, yeah, I suppose,” you agree shamefully, completely embarrassed at how technically true his statement was and wishing that the ground would swallow you whole, “I am really sorry. You’re here doing me a huge favour and I’m not even paying attention. I guess - oh.”

Your still fiddling fingers had lost grip of your pen, letting it clatter against the marble floor and roll under the table.

“Sorry,” you were really getting more and more frazzled as the seconds went by, “let me just- ”

“Please, child of man, allow me,” and before you could even comprehend what was happening, the sixth foot supernatural dorm leader of Diasomnia had abandoned his seat and knelt down to retrieve your pen before holding it in front of you, a coy smile on his face, not making a single move to get up.

This nyctophilic fairy prince, whose entire existence is shrouded in fear and mystery, was kneeling before you in broad daylight, handing you your pen as if it was worth more than quadruple its weight in gold. Underneath the static in your head, you could hear the shocked exclamations of Grim and Sebek and Lilia’s ever suspicious snickering and you could feel the burning gazes of the entire cafeteria scalding against your frame. Dumbly, you simply took your pen back, all cerebral functions doing absolutely nothing - you couldn’t even remember how to breathe.

Unaware, or unbothered, of the looks being thrown your way, Malleus sat back in his chair, just as regal and refined as he does everything else before turning to you with a secretive smile, “as we were, my dear. However, this time let’s try to keep your thoughts on me alone.”

#malleus draconia x reader #fem reader

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clockwayswrites · 11 months

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Little Living Bones Part 2

Part 1 WC: 816 CW: necromancy

As soon as he could stand, Danny scrambled back to the teleportation sigil he had scratched into the dirt when he first arrived in Madagascar. He was always sure to have an out, and he really needed one right then. The tiny skeleton was clutched against his chest. Danny could feel the thin rib bones moving as if the little creature was breathing.

Somehow he made it back through the winding streets to the hotel he was staying at. He locked the door, set the skeleton on the tiny desk that was shoved under the window, and backed up as far as he could in the shoebox of a room.

“Okay,” Danny whispered, his voice mostly lost in the hum of the window unit. His eyes were locked with the hallow skull of the little gecko. “So you’re alive now. Again. You’re alive again.”

The gecko tilted it’s head. Their head? They were alive now, they weren’t a thing anymore.

“You’re alive and I did that. Okay, right.” His hands were shaking. When did he start shaking so badly? “That’s… alright. Guess you’re my responsibility now? Good thing you don’t need to eat, I have enough trouble feeding myself.”

His laugh was stilted in heavy humidity of the air. Danny could feel the nerves bubbling up under the sound, threating to turn it hysterical if only he could get any air in his lungs. When had he stopped being able to breath?

Danny sat down hard on the ground, tucked between the edge of the bed and the wall. When Danny had managed to get his breathing back under control and uncurled, he found himself face to skull with the little gecko. Impossibly, the little one looked worried.

Exhausted, Danny rested his head on his knees. “I guess I’m not being fair to you. Here I brought you back to life and I’ve just been ignoring you. I’m sorry little one.”

The little lizard moved in such a way that their bones gave a little rattle. It was kind of a pleasant sound. Danny smiled, just a little, and reached out to run a finger over the skull.

“I don’t know if you’ll, um, last—” though the idea of lizard falling apart to death again made Danny’s breath hitch again “—but even if you’re only around for a little, I guess you should have a name.”

Carefully, he picked up the skeleton and set them on his shoulder. Danny stumbled as he pulled himself up off the ground. “And I guess I should have some water.”

He pulled his dinged metal waterbottle out the side pocket of his rucksack before rooting around in the front one for his notebook. Settling on the rickety chair at the tiny desk, Danny found a blank page to write on. He tapped his pencil against the paper a few times before he he started to just list any name that came to mind.

By the time he had managed to fill most of the page with names and was just scribbling idle lines in the bottom corner, Danny was feeling frustrated. None of the names felt right. He had tried names from all over his travels, but nothing was clicking.

“Well, what name do you like?” Danny asked the gecko, who had crawled down to sit on the desk during the process.

The little thing tilted their head.

“Names, which do you like?” Danny asked again, tapping the paper.

The gecko watched the finger for a moment before waddling over and flopping down on the overlapping curves Danny had doodled in the corner.

Danny gave a tired sigh. “Sure, why not.”

A few months later, Danny stepped out of an alley and onto the streets of Paris. He had to consult his half legible note a few times to get to the set meeting place. The hunched, trench coat shrouded form of Constantine was easy to pick out where he was slightly tucked back in a different alleyway.

“Hey, Constantine,” Danny called out as soon as he was close enough not to draw too much other attention. The crowd was sparse, but there were still people milling about even at the late hour.

Constantine turned to greet Danny and froze— going still in a way that for the man was downright creepy. It made Danny’s hackles go up.

“What?” What was that look for? He was clean and fed and had even splurged and gotten his coat dry cleaned before meeting up with Constantine. So what if he’d been alone for several months now.

He’s fine.

He has a pet now.

“Kid,” John said slowly.

Oh, John wasn’t looking at him. His eyes were fixed on the lapels of Danny’s coat and who must be peaking out of it.

“What the hell is that, kid?”

“This is Squiggles, they/them. Constantine, Squiggles. Squiggles, Constantine. No biting, either of you.”

-----

AN: And things completes this little fic: the origins of Squiggles the Undead Gecko! And proof that Danny is a necromancer? Maybe, maybe not. This will probably by the second fic in the story, the first being done by Moku and and explaining how Danny met Constantine! You can find her first part of that in the masterpost.

Stay delightful, darlings!

Please remember that I'm no longer tagging people due to the shadow ban! If you go to the master post, you can subscribe there for update notifications!

#salt in the bones #little living bones #squiggles the undead gecko #dp x dc

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manblood · 1 year

Text

meeting and dating xavier thorpe

01_xavier-thorpe

type________________head-cannons

word-count__________697

status______________not-requested

sypnosis-

some meeting and dating headcannons for my fav shears twin lookalike (i’ve been obsessed w the garden for a while and seeing xavier made it worse)

lowercase intended + written on my phone

preparing for launch…

you two obviously met at nevermore

the first time you talk is when you’re walking with wednesday and enid for the school tour since you transferred to nevermore at the same time as wednesday

you get lost and separated from the group and he noticed your confusion so he walked up to you to try and help you

“hey i’ve never seen you around here before. are you lost?”

unbeknownst to you, bro was already falling in love with you and the more he talked to you, the more he fell.

take what he was like with wednesday and dial it up by like x10 percent

you have a couple classes together so he makes sure that he has an open seat next to him for every one so you’ll have to sit with him and talk to him more

he draws little candid pictures of you while you’re not looking in his notebook and animates little drawings of animals with his powers to try and impress you

he isn’t the best with expressing his emotions, so he definitely finds out some of your hobbies and tries to get really good at them or learn something about them so he can talk to you about it during class the next day

you like to read? he gets the titles of the books you carry around and reads them so he can talk to you about them. you like to sing or play an instrument? he’s gonna compliment your playing so much. you like a band or an artist? oh what a coincidence! he loves them too!

you and thing are besties so you tell him about xavier and your little crush on him

pulling a classic thing move, he writes xavier a note for you asking him to the rave’n

the night of the dance you open your door to leave for the dance and there’s xavier about to knock on the door to pick you up and take you

as you’re questioning why he’s there he has stars in his eyes imagining what the night will hold and hoping this won’t be the only time he gets to take you out like this

you can consider that night your first date and the night was filled lots of dancing and laughing, as well as being enchanted by each other

when xavier dropped you off back at your dorm he asks you out on another date

“are you doing anything sunday?”

you start dating after your third or fourth date

constant secret dates, big and small, just as long as you two can be near each other and alone

i can see bianca being a little jealous at first, but then warming up to it after a little while and you two actually become friends

enid constantly asking you two to go on a double date with her and ajax

xavier makes art to express his emotions since he’s usually closed off with most, so get ready for xavier to be drawing you 24/7 but not showing you most of them

giving each other little things that remind you guys of each other

his love language is gift giving and quality time so his ideal type of date is probably one of those cute little things where you guys make build a bears for each other, go on a picnic and do that thing where every 20 minutes you guys swap paintings and work on them until you have finished ones, or going to one of those places where you paint pottery and make something for each other or together

when schools out you two stay in contact and probably make plans to visit each other once or twice

as far as i love you’s go, once you two say it or realize you love each other i can see you two not really saying it frequently but doing little things that show it

all together it’s a very comforting relationship and even though xavier’s a very private person, you two grow together

…welcome home

we hope you enjoyed your flight

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

authors_note-

thank you for reading my first ever xavier piece!! i’m kinda proud of how it turned out. keep an eye out for more writings for him to come out soon <3

#wednesday #x reader #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe x you #xavier thorpe #headcanon

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satansapostle6 · 2 months

Text

The Crush | Percy Jackson

Percy Jackson is a cool, simple guy who is also the famous son of Poseidon who helped save the world. But, talking to the pretty girl in his English class still seems impossible.

Warnings: Mature themes/language. Violence. Sexual content.

Chapter One: Pussy Jackson

Percy sat behind Chloé in English. She was tall and intimidating, and he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to work up the courage to talk to her. Sure, he wasn’t in high school anymore, but he still felt nervous around her like he was sixteen years old again. Chloé Jardine was, after all, the prettiest girl he had ever seen.

He knew Chloé was a Roman demigod, a daughter of Nox, the Roman equivalent of Nyx, the goddess of darkness and the night. She was a fairly typical child of Nox, a sort of minimalistic goth.

She had long, pitch black hair, with tiny micro bangs partially covering her forehead. She was also noticeably pale, as if she only ever went out at nighttime. Most people thought she looked scary, but Percy thought she looked magical.

Chloé had a decent amount of tattoos, including a pretty sizable spider web on her neck. She had a lot of piercings, including an eyebrow piercing and a vertical labret on her lip. She didn’t really wear makeup, but she was very obviously a goth. She was smart, and she didn’t talk a lot at all, which drove Percy insane. He made it his mission in life to know as much about her as possible.

Every time he saw her wearing a band T-shirt of some kind to school, he’d make a note of the band name and look it up later if he wasn’t familiar, and listen to all of the songs he could find.

So far, he’d listened to Type O Negative, Bauhaus, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Sisters of Mercy, Kittie, and Rob Zombie, only affirming his opinion that she was the coolest person on earth. His best friend, Grover, thought the behavior was just a little bit obsessive, but didn’t really think it was that bad.

That day in his college English course, he was sitting in his seat, listening to Soundgarden during the lecture on his laptop with the tab open, secretly hoping Chloé would have some some reason to walk back and look at his computer screen. Soundgarden wasn’t goth, of course, but Percy had seen her wear one of their shirts.

“Hey! Pussy Jackson!”

Percy frowned to see Clarisse La Rue sitting in a seat a couple rows behind him.

“Move your fat fucking head, I can’t see!”

“‘I’m doing fine, thank you, Clarisse’,” he mocked her under his breath. “‘How was your weekend’?”

Percy was startled to look up to see Chloé turned around in front of him.

“Will you two shut the fuck up?!” she whispered, staring at them in disbelief.

Percy’s face must have been beet red as he tried his hardest not to explode. He was dying of embarrassment as he tried to come up with some sort of answer.

“Uh, yeah! Sorry!” he apologized in a whisper.

Chloé just turned back around, shaking her head as she continued taking messy notes on the assignment due dates. Percy leaned forward slightly, looking curiously at her notebook. He found her handwriting interesting; it was kind of small with a lot sharp edges, written in haste without being too messy, almost like a doctor’s handwriting.

Percy knew he must’ve been lost in his horny ADHD world, because before he knew it, the instructor had just finished announcing the next project, a group project worth 20% of his grade.

“Alright, the groups are posted up here, so you can all come and take a look. You’ll have the rest of this class to figure out a presentation topic and get started,” the professor, a woman in her forties, announced as she retreated to her desk.

Alarmed by the words ‘groups’ and ‘presentation’, Percy anxiously made his way down to the whiteboard with everyone else, terrified to receive his group assignment. He prayed silently that he’d get at least one smart kid in his group, and zero Clarisse’s. As he slowly scanned the list of names up and down, his face went pale as he found his other two group mates. Clarisse La Rue and Chloé Jardine.

Percy wanted to kill himself immediately. Not only did he have to work with Clarisse, but he also had to figure out how to work with Chloé, who had just told him to shut the fuck up not two seconds ago, the first words she had ever spoken to him. He glanced back at Clarisse, who was standing beside Chloé. Neither of them looked very happy about the group assignment.

Percy glanced over at the peofessor’s desk, contemplating whether he should try and get a different group. He decided against it, figuring he’d had enough embarrassment for one day. Signing as he realized he’d have to face Chloé eventually, he walked over to where the girls were standing, ready to face the music. He’d fought monsters and faced imminent doom before, and somehow this felt exactly the same.

“I’m not doing all of the work,” Chloé crossed her arms.

“What makes you think you’d be doing all the work?!” Clarisse asked defensively.

“Because I’m in a group with you!”

“Hey…” Percy waved awkwardly, trying to break the ice, which seemed to also somehow be scalding hot.

“Oh, yeah. You’re in this group too,” Clarisse rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, unfortunately,” Percy retaliated childishly.

“Okay. We need to come up with a topic,” Chloé reminded them. “Which one should our presentation be about?”

“What are the options?” Percy asked, watching as she just let out a long sigh.

The next hour of class went by as slowly as possible. By the end of it, Clarisse had stormed out of the classroom, and Percy and Chloé were left sitting together exhaustedly. Chloé sighed as she got up, heading out of the building as Percy followed her.

“Sorry about Clarisse,” he offered sympathetically. “She drives everyone who has to deal with her insane.”

“Yeah, I’m starting to get that,” Chloé nodded.

*****

Percy felt odd, and completely out of place the entire time he sat in class discussing the project with Chloé. Every time she spoke to him, he felt more stupid. He knew nothing about what he wanted to do for the project, and he was even less prepared to answer these questions when asked by Chloé Jardine. And of course, Clarisse also being a part of the group didn’t help.

But Percy figured it was almost worth it, getting to work on the project with Chloé, with her cool hair, tattoos and piercings, and blue eyes, the same icy blue eyes that mesmerized him when he spoke to her. Percy had to clear his throat and check his breath twice before smiling at her as she turned, just having ordered a coffee from the kiosk nearby.

“Hey,” Percy wheezed, realizing how eager he sounded stalk to her, cursing himself silently.

“Hi,” Chloé said with slight surprise, sipping the warm coffee.

She looked at him expectantly, wondering what it was he could’ve possibly had to say to her. Chloé had already done a brief mental scan of Percy; she knew that he was the Greek son of Poseidon, by his shaggy black hair and sea green eyes.

She knew from the perpetual dopey expression on his face that he was attracted to her in some way. She’d seen the way he looked at her and assumed that it was mostly more sexual than emotional, based on the way his eyes lingered on her skin and the way he was constantly averting his eyes from her chest.

“See you,” Chloé smiled, politely excusing herself as she walked away.

“Fuck,” Percy muttered under his breath as he watched her walk away.

He sighed in defeat as he watched Chloé walk away from him, thinking of a hundred things in that moment he wished he’d said to her.

“It’ll never happen, you know.”

Percy whipped around quickly, alarmed as he turned around in the direction of the voice he’d heard. Naturally, the disapproving voice had belonged to Annabeth, his sharp-witted child of Athena ex-girlfriend.

“What?” Percy questioned defensively.

“You and Chloé,” she responded promptly.

Percy crossed his arms. “What makes you think—”

“That you’re infatuated with her?” she asked him. “I know you, Jackson.”

“I’m not infatuated with Chloé,” Percy rolled his eyes at her.

“Well. Infatuated or not, her ex-boyfriend is Sean Morley. The son of Apollo?” Annabeth Chase smirked. “With the blond hair, and the shoulders?”

“Why are you so invested?” he ignored her, questioning her skeptically.

Annabeth smiled, patting his shoulder sympathetically. “Because. It’s fun watching you refuse to learn,” she said as her demeanor softened.

Annabeth walked off and disappeared, leaving Percy to do a lot of thinking.

Chapter Two

#percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy series #pjo series #pjo #pjo hoo toa #pjo fandom #logan lerman #pjo percy #percy pjo #percy x reader #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson series #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x y/n #perseus jackson #heroes of olympus

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 18 days

Text

Tutor Sesh

Pairing: Jennifer Jareau x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~900

Warnings: fluff

Summary: You tutor the popular soccer genius who is failing one subject; the same subject which you happen to be excellent at.

Square Filled: “if you solve this i’ll buy you lunch.” for @badbitchesbingo

Author’s Note: JJ and the reader are in college

If you can get this paper done before you leave the library, you’re not going to have any homework for the entire weekend. This paper has been the bane of your existence and you’re about to finish it. The door to the library slides open which makes a weird air sound that causes you to look up in curiosity.

One of the most popular girls in school comes rushing in with her books clutched to her chest. Her blonde hair flows behind her messily but she doesn’t seem to care. She was supposed to meet you forty minutes ago but didn’t leave a message that she was going to be late.

“I am so sorry I’m late. Practice ran late.”

She is a soccer genius. She got a soccer scholarship when she graduated high school and is very good in all subjects but physics. She is very good at playing soccer but if she doesn’t keep good grades, she will be kicked from the team and lose her scholarship. You just so happen to be great at the subject she sucks at which is why you agreed to tutor her.

“It’s not a problem. Just let me finish this paper. I’m almost done.”

“Sure.”

She takes out her textbooks and notebooks while you try to focus on your paper. Her blonde hair falls in front of her eyes so she tries to blow it away only to have the same strand fall back in her face. She gets annoyed and tucks it behind her ear. God, she is so beautiful. Milky skin, golden hair, and oceans for eyes.

Yeah, you’re not going to be able to finish your paper. With a sigh, you close out your document and log out of the computer knowing this session is going to take most of your time.

“Okay, I’m ready.” JJ shows you her physics book which you’re quite good at. That’s the one subject that she isn’t good at which is why she asked you to tutor her. “Tell me what you’re having trouble with.”

“All of it,” she sighs. “We’re talking about the Magnus Effect.”

You try your best to explain the subject as best as you can but she isn’t getting it. You gave her a practice test just to see where she’s at but she fails it.

“God, I’m going to fail and I’ll be kicked off the team,” she loses hope.

“No, you’re not. Okay, I just have to go about this another way.” You look at her bag to see her soccer uniform sticking out of it. “I got it. Think about soccer, okay? A spinning object in motion exerts a net force on the air, which according to Newton's 3rd Law, exerts an equal and opposite force back on the moving and spinning object, altering its trajectory. The Magnus effect is why soccer players can bend a soccer ball into the goal around a five-person wall and why baseball pitchers can throw a breaking ball pitch.”

“Okay, I’m with you so far,” she nods.

As you explain it to her, you’re also drawing diagrams that are easy to follow. She has her notebook out and is taking notes to study later.

“When a soccer player kicks a ball off-center it causes the ball to spin. The direction and speed of the spin will determine how much the ball curves during flight. The curve of the ball during flight is known as the Magnus Effect.

“As the ball undergoes top spin,” you draw a clockwise rotation on the figure, “it causes the velocity of the air around the top half of the ball to become less than the air velocity around the bottom half of the ball. This is because the tangential velocity of the ball in the top half acts in the opposite direction to the airflow, and the tangential velocity of the ball in the bottom half acts in the same direction as the airflow.”

“Okay, now you’ve lost me,” she sighs.

“It’s the big words, right?” you chuckle.

“Yeah.”

“Okay, since the air speed around the top half of the ball is less than the air speed around the bottom half of the ball, the pressure is greater on the top of the ball. This causes a net downward force to act on the ball,” you explain.

“Think of when a soccer player kicks the ball right of the center. It spins counter-clockwise and the Magnus force acts left, causing the ball to curve left. When the ball is kicked left of center, the ball spins clockwise and the Magnus force acts right, causing the ball to curve right. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, better than this book,” she laughs.

“Okay, with that in mind, answer these questions. If you solve this, I’ll buy you lunch.”

“Okay,” she grins.

You spend the next hour explaining physics in relation to soccer so she’ll understand it, and she’s doing a lot better when it’s compared to something she loves doing. You two get lost in time until she looks at her phone.

“Shit, I have to go. Thank you so much for helping me.”

“It’s not a problem.”

You’re about to clean up when she grabs your face and kisses you. It comes out of nowhere which is why you’re so shocked, but she’s gone before you have a chance to do anything about it. She rips a piece of paper from her notebook and scribbles her number on it.

“Call me, okay?”

You open your mouth to reply but nothing comes out. She puts everything into her bag haphazardly before getting up. She waves at you as she leaves, and you’re still sitting there starstruck.

Did that really just happen? Even after she’s gone, you can still feel her on your lips. You touch your lips gently as if that will preserve the feel of her. Maybe you should tutor her more often.

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#jennifer jareau #jennifer jareau x reader #jennifer jareau fanfiction #jennifer jareau fanfic #jennifer jareau fic #jennifer jareau fluff #jennifer jareau fiction #jennifer jareau fan fiction #jennifer jareau fan fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fluff #cm #cm fic #cm fanfiction #cm fanfic #cm fluff

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sopiao · 8 months

Text

i’ve had writers block for the longest fuckn time and i just thought if an idea that i think is cute :3 (i wrote this with the 141 + könig)

So, imagine having glasses, and losing them during a mission or breaking them in your sleep. So, now you have to go throughout the day, week, month, however long it takes to get fixed with out them.

Constantly squinting and having a permanent confused face when you can’t see the board that Price is mapping out the plan for the next mission.

“What happened to yer glasses?” Soap leans a little to the side, still trying to look like he’s still paying attention, he’s been thinking whether Price is bald or not for the past 20 minutes.

“They broke” You shrug, acting like you don’t really need it that much, but right now you could be declared legally blind with how much your vision sucks right now.

“What— How?” Facing you now, not caring whether he looks like he cares about the briefing or not.

“I.. br-mmm” You mumble, too embarrassed to tell him how it broke.

“Huh?”

“I bro-mmmm, sleep”

“Wut?”

“I broke it in my sleep” Everyone gets up now that Price’s done. Mumbling quietly so no one else hears, although now you brought more attention to yourself with how Soap can barely contain his snickering.

“I can try to fix em for you” He follows you to your barracks where you pull them out of a drawer. Literally snapped in half, one lense has a crack across it, and one of the arms is broken off. It’s all in three pieces.

Soap is literally shaking, clenching his fist as he tries not to burst out laughing. Literally his vision goes as blurry as yours as he tries not to let any of his tears slip.

“H— H—How.. did this.. happen?” He gets cut off every time by his own wheezing, having to suck in to keep himself together. Looking at how broken your glasses are, it’s like you were twisting like an alligator in your sleep.

—

“What, the fuck, are you doing?” Ghost walks into your room to see you face down in a book, at first he through you passed out asleep until he saw you move your face across the page to see the next sentence.

“I don’t have my glasses” Seeing your 3 pieces of glasses by your desk, he has to take a deep breath to compose himself and shut the door to keep himself from laughing in front of you.

—

“WHAT THE FUCK” You yell, storming into the common room for the fifth time, more pissed this time as you stomp around, looking around, under, and in everything you can.

Huffing as you finally give up and sit on the couch next to Gaz and Soao who’s slouched on a bean bag. Seeing your obvious outburst, Gaz sets down his comic book on his lap.

“You okay, buddy?” He asked, laying his arm behind you on the edge of the couch. Trying to console you like a child.

“I lost my notebook again, I wasted an hour of my free time trying to look for it” You slink in further into the couch, arms crossed, blowing a piece of hair out of your face that still ends up landing on your nose.

“Oh..” Gaz said, looking between you and the very obvious bright red notebook on the table that’s literally right in front of you.

“I- I’m sure it’ll turn up” He shrugs, not knowing whether he should point it out or just let you figure it out.

“You think it’s just gonna show up out of the blue—“ You sit up, immediately cutting yourself off.

“WHAT THE—“ (hopefully y’all got the reference)

—

Ghost and Price both perk up and look at you when you knock and poke your head through the crack of the door.

“Have you guys seen König anywhere?” They both look at you, each other, then at König who’s literally right behind you. He’s holding a finger to his lips, to tell them to not tell you. They look back at each other then shake their head at you.

“Damn.. Thanks anyway” Standing in the hallway with your hands on you hips as you bite on your bottom lip.

He’s been following you for the last 15 minutes doing this. You asked Soap about him when you were in the kitchen, König was standing beside you. Following you around the base the entire time you searched for him.

Asking newer recruits where he was, they played along as well. Too intimidating by the man behind you to deny his request to keep quiet.

—

“Here. I fixed it for you” Price hands you a cloth which had your glasses wrapped in. It made your heart warm that he took time out of his work to fix it for you.

Unwrapping the white handkerchief. Your glasses are being held together by white medical tape. Surprisingly sturdy. Putting them on your face, you feel reborn now that you can actually see.

“These actually suck. But thank you” Smiling up at him, thankful that he actually did something to help. You started doing little favors for him for a couple weeks to try and repay him :3

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loveinhawkins · 1 year

Text

Part 1 ao3

A series of notes passed during private study periods in Hawkins High School Library, circa January—May, 1985.

A sheet of paper hastily ripped from its notebook, folded over with a crease down the middle.

—Harrington, did you just turn down that girl?

—What are you talking about?

—Hey, you can’t blame a guy for being nosy. You were the one deciding to TALK in a SACRED LIBRARY.

—If you heard us, why are you asking?

—Okay, sound doesn’t travel that far.

—Why don’t YOU tell me what happened considering you know everything?

—Wow. Touchy.

—Fuck off.

—Sorry. Thought we were just joking around. Didn’t mean to be a dick.

—It’s fine.

—You sure?

—I wasn’t ‘turning her down.’ She’s on the Yearbook Committee. Asking for photos.

—Too many pin-ups to choose from?

—Baby photos.

—What’s the problem? Did you come out the womb holding hairspray?

—No.

—Table it or ditch it?

—?

—It’s something my uncle says. If he asks me about stuff I don’t wanna talk about, I can either table it for later or ditch it completely. But if something keeps coming up and I keep saying to ditch it, then it automatically becomes a table it for later.

—That’s smart.

—Yup.

—Table it.

—Okay.

—? Why do you keep scoring out stuff?

—Sorry sorry. I can only think of baby photos now.

—Not against them in general. Feel free to talk about yourself, Munson.

—Uh-huh. I could hear the sarcasm in how you wrote that.

—Ha. No, really. I don’t mind.

—Well, lucky for you, talking about myself is my favorite subject.

—Lucky me.

—I thought I’d lost literally all of my baby photos. When I lived with my dad, the house got flooded and all of them were hit. Water damage. I had to get my books spread out on a radiator so the pages would dry, and that kinda worked for some of them. Photos were goners, though.

—That’s awful.

—Hold your horses, cowboy. But then when I moved to my uncle’s—we’re at the trailer park in Forest Hills—I saw he had all these photos stacked on a bookcase, and I thought they were all really old, like from when he was a kid and stuff, and some of them were, but he had whole entire ALBUMS of me. Way more than my dad ever had.

—That’s cool.

—You’re so verbose, Harrington.

—I meant it. It’s just. I was just thinking.

—About?

—That’s not why I—I HAVE baby photos, that’s not the problem.

—Don’t sweat it, dude, you don’t need to tell me.

—It’s just. Rebecca, that’s who was talking to me, she kept going on about how everyone else has already sent in a baby photo or, you know, a photo from when they were a kid, and she was excited about it, it’s a whole new thing they’re doing for this year. They’re gonna do a special layout, old photos next to current ones, you know what I mean?

—Afraid I’ve never been privy to the wondrous goings-on of the Yearbook Committee.

—She said it’ll look weird if I’m the only one not doing it. But it’s—I don’t know. I know I could just pick any damn photo and send it in, it’d get the whole Committee off my back. But I think I’d feel weird at the thought of the whole year getting to see—god, this doesn’t even make sense, like I don’t mind them seeing at a photo of me NOW, but I don’t. I don’t like looking at old photos, I never have. I don’t know why. Guess I just don’t like looking back.

—Fuck what everyone else is doing. They’re YOUR photos. Forget the precious ‘layout.’

—Yeah, that’s sorta what I told her, minus the ‘fuck.’

—If it’ll shut them all up, you could send in one of mine. See who actually notices.

—No way.

—Yeah, I was just being stupid.

—No. Those are YOUR photos. Save them for your own Yearbook. Sounds like your uncle could fill the whole thing with pictures.

—Wouldn’t put it past him.

—Shit, is that the time? The bell’s gonna ring in five minutes. I’ve done NOTHING.

—The horror!

—I’m blaming you.

—Honored to be considered a distraction, Harrington.

A scrap of paper, hastily dropped into the pencil case of an unknowing Eddie Munson as the bell rang.

—Thanks.

#notes from hawkins high school library #epistolary fic #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steddie #eddie and wayne munson #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #pre steddie

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crazychaoticizzy · 10 months

Text

French Girl

note: this is a birthday present for my friend I hope you enjoy <3

The poor boy from France that you'd run into on the ship had caught your attention, and you can't help but ask him to portray you the way he sees you.

WARNINGS: Titanic AU kinda, Fem!reader, fluff, nudity, suggestive but not explicit

Word Count: 3.1k

Masterlist

AOT Masterlist

As you flip through the somewhat erotic sketches in the notebook you hold, you can't help but think about the hands that drew them.

The fact that being seen with him could completely ruin your reputation was the last thing on your mind as your fingers gently graze the edges of the pages, carefully admiring every detail in each drawing.

“You drew all these?” you ask, looking up at him.

Jean smiles, his eyes moving from your face to his notebook, and nods. “Yeah, all of ‘em.” His voice has an accent that yours doesn’t have, and you can’t decide if it’s because of the language he uses or something else. “Turns out lots o’ dancers in France are willin’ to drop their panties for me.”

Your jaw drops at his crude words, which makes Jean laugh. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees at he looks at his own drawings. The movement makes your kneecaps touch, and you find yourself subconsciously crossing your legs.

“Nah, m’just kidding. Well, mostly, anyway.” Another chuckle slips from his lips when he notices your slightly widened eyes. He gently grabs the notebook from your lap, flipping through the pages.

“Like this one,” he said, turning it to show you. It was a charcoal drawing of a woman and a man sitting at a table, the woman wearing an eyepatch and the man missing two fingers. “I approached ‘em in a pub one day and asked if I could draw them. The lady—well, they actually didn’t identify as a man or woman, they told me, but their name was Hange—seemed a lot more enthusiastic about it than Levi, the man. Anyway, they told me about their time in the military as I drew ‘em.”

You nod along to his words as you take the notebook back in your hands and admire the drawing. Even though your eyes are distracted you hold onto every word he says.

Upon further inspection, you notice the man’s right eye was white, barely a hint of an iris in the drawing.

“They both lost an eye while serving,” Jean continues, noticing how you seem to focus on that small detail. “Hange lost their’s completely, I’m pretty sure, and Levi went blind in his right.”

“I wonder what happened,” you softly muse.

Jean shrugged. “They didn’t really give details about their injuries, they really only told me about their dead comrades and training and such. Actually, their commander was someone I’ve drawn before—can I?”

You nod, handing him the notebook so he could flip through a couple more pages.

“They saw the drawing while I was looking for a clean page and asked about it. His name was Erwin Smith, and he was the thirteenth commander in their survey corps. Hange told me they were the fourteenth after him, and they passed it on to some blond boy named Armin before retiring. I think Armin is on this boat, actually.”

Jean turns the book back to you in the middle of his small rant, showing a blond man with thick eyebrows. You noticed that instead of a head shot like the other drawings, it was a full body portrait to show that he was missing his right arm.

“They spoke the world of him. It seemed like the three of them were incredibly close.”

Jean sounds sad talking about them, almost like he knew the ins and outs of their relationship personally. He might have, you suppose, because it seemed strangers spilled their hearts and souls to him during one single conversation.

“Are the first two a couple?” you ask.

Jean shrugs, handing you the notebook again so you can continue flipping through it. “Dunno. They seemed really close and like they trusted each other with everything they had, but never mentioned bein’ together.”

You nodded, flipping through more drawings. There were multiple of a young boy with dark hair and freckles throughout the journal, all dated very close to each other until you stopped seeing them. He must have been close to Jean, but you don’t ask about it since the last drawing of him was done years ago and seems unfinished.

“So, those French girls. Is there a reason they…” you paused, hesitating to repeat his earlier words. “You know.”

“Dropped their panties for me?” He smirks cheekily at you as you bite the inside of your cheek, nodding. “Nah, don’t think so. Though I do think they thought I would pay them back with something more erotic than what they got.”

“You drew a lot of dancers,” you comment as you flip through, noticing two or three drawings of naked women on each page.

“Jealous I’ve seen naked women before?” Jean teases, lightly nudging your knee with his.

Your lips tighten as you fight the urge to smile. “No, it was merely an observation.”

Jean laughs. “I was just teasin’. But they make for good anatomy practice. They can bend their body any way they want and stay for extended periods of time. They’re the perfect people to draw for practice.”

“And they have to be… bare?”

Jean shrugs. “Well it’s more difficult to draw bodies with all those bulky clothes they wear.”

You make an O shape with your mouth, unable to decide if he’s telling the truth or simply teasing you again.

It’s silent as you continue flipping through the pages, the soft ocean breeze being the only sound between you and Jean as he watches you.

You notice a black-haired woman appear multiple times throughout the notebook. She has short hair that frames her face perfectly, and there’s a mark just below one of her steel gray eyes.

“You liked this one,” you note, reading the small writing at the bottom of one of the pages. “Mikasa Ackerman. She’s very pretty.”

“What makes you say I liked her?” Jean asks.

“You drew her quite a lot.” Jean hums, but doesn’t say anything in response. “I believe there might have been something going on.”

You smile. You don’t turn to see, but you can feel Jean’s expression change as he continuously denies your claim.

“No, no, we were just friends. She was always at the dance studio when I went, so I was just always drawing her.” His cheeks are pink though, and when you turn to look at him he puts his hand over the bottom half of his face.

You hum condescendingly, turning back to the pages. “She was very pretty. I wouldn’t be surprised if at some point you developed feelings for her.”

“Yeah, she was.” Jean’s voice is soft, a whisper, almost. You keep your head down but glance at him, noting the way he fondly looks at the drawings.

“You did like her, didn’t you?” It’s not an accusation, and you don’t mean it to be. You make sure your voice is gentle when you say it, coaxing him to tell you more.

He’s still for a moment before he gives a single nod. “Yeah, I did.”

You can’t tell why his accent changes, but the way he said I sounded more like ah. You assume it might be due to him having been all over the world, and make a note to ask him about it another time.

“I eventually realized we would never happen. She was too high class for me.” Jean doesn’t sound sad about it, in fact he talks about it as if it’s a nostalgic memory for him.

“Just like I’m too high class for you?” The words slip from your mouth without thinking, and you immediately shut your mouth. But now that you’d said it, you realize that you’re right. You shouldn’t be seen with him. The blow that could do to your family, the rumors it could start. If the wrong person saw this it would be a one way ticket to poverty for your family.

Jean purses his lips. “Yeah. Jus’ like you.”

You softly nod, closing the notebook and handing it back to him. “Thank you for allowing me to see your artwork, Mister Kirstein.”

“It’s just Jean,” he said, grabbing his notebook and standing up with you. He tucks the leather bound book under his arm, bowing his head slightly. “Someone as posh and fancy as you shouldn’t be givin’ me titles like Mister.”

“Of course.” You gently bite the inside of your cheek, smoothing out your dress. “Well, I thank you anyway. And I suppose we shall see if we run into each other again on this boat.”

Jean gives one nod. “Maybe we will.”

You noticed that his responses were curt, and you took that as your cue to bow your head and walk away from him.

As you walked past a few people on your way back to your room, you noticed some giving you a glance, and you prayed to God that they wouldn’t let anything slip.

—

You giggled with Jean as you entered your room, closing and locking the door behind you after you made sure no one had seen you.

Apparently the wrong crowd had seen you two together when you were looking at his drawings. That had led to a lovely dinner with your family and fiancé which led to another series of events that had reconciled the two of you.

You remember being slightly buzzed when you asked if he could draw you, but he agreed nonetheless. He waited until there was no alcohol in your system and no one you knew was around before he asked if you still wanted him to draw you. You had nodded, following him to his cramped room before grabbing him by the hand and dragging him back to yours.

You weren’t exactly trying to be sneaky anymore, but you were still cautious of who was watching.

Jean stood in the center of your room in awe, mouth agape as he looked at the intricate wallpaper and fancy light fixtures and beautiful paintings leaning against couches.

“Is the lighting alright?” you asked, taking a step closer him him.

He hummed in question, closing his mouth and turning his head to you. “Oh, yes, yes. It’s fine. Perfect, actually, uhm…” He nodded once. “Yeah.”

You could tell he was nervous, but you weren’t sure why. It’s not like this was your first time alone together, and you certainly knew he had no problem sneaking around with you.

“Are you alright?”

He nodded again, averting his gaze to one of your paintings. “Is that Pixis?”

Your eyes followed as he stepped in the direction he was looking, noticing the mostly gray and red painting.

“Yes. You know him?” You stepped behind him, leaning over as he crouched down and softly touched the edge.

“I love his work. He was a Chief Official in the French army before he passed. He painted in his free time and most o’ his work depicts his time on the battlefield. There’s one he painted of giant beasts that he saw in his dreams.”

Jean’s eyes swept over the painting once more before he stood up, turning to you. “So, anything you want to be drawn by? Or with?”

It took you a moment to register what exactly he was asking about. You had been admiring his amazed expression, lost in the way his lips slightly curved while looking at your paintings.

You nodded. “Yes, give me just a moment and I’ll grab it.”

Jean nodded, softly scratching the back of his neck and looking around as you retreated to your sleeping quarters and opened the closet door.

You turned the dial on the safe to open it, retrieving the black box Eren had put in it at the beginning of the trip. You hesitated a moment, looking at the rock on your finger before taking it off and leaving it in the safe.

You returned to Jean, watching for just a moment as he admired another painting you had. Your approaching footsteps brought his attention to you, and when he turned he saw you opening the box.

You handed it to him, watching as he gingerly lifted the expensive necklace and looked at it in the light.

“This is a real nice necklace. Probably worth more than I am.” He softly laughed, glancing at you as he placed the box down on a side table. He lifted the necklace again, looking at it closely. “What is it, sapphire?”

“Diamond,” you replied, stepping closer to him. Your side pressed against his, and you felt him tense up slightly. “I want you to draw me wearing it.”

He briefly glanced at you again before looking back at the necklace. “Alright. Where?”

“Wearing only that.”

Jean paused, turning his head to look at you after the words left your mouth. He raised a brow, as if to ask if you were sure about your decision.

“I want you to draw me like one of your French girls. The dancers.”

You watched as the corner of his lips twitched, fighting the urge to smile. He placed the necklace back on top of the box, running a hand over his face. “You sure?”

You nodded. “Yes.”

He allowed his lips to curl into a charming smile as he gave you a once over before nodding. “Alright. What room?”

You gently grabbed his hand, leading him into the room next to yours and turning on the lights.

“Whatever pose you’d like,” you said. “Any lighting you’d like, as well. I only want you to draw me.”

He smiled down at you, handing you the necklace. “That I can do. Wanna undress here or should I wait?”

He softly laughed at your expression, gently patting your shoulder. “I’m only kiddin’. Go get ready while I set up.”

His hand traveled from your shoulder to your wrist, and he gently lifted your hand to his lips. He left a soft kiss on your knuckles, not breaking eye contact before he winked and walked further into the room.

While you undressed you heard something scraping around in the other room, stopping after a couple moments. You assumed Jean was moving around furniture and liked where he had placed it.

When you finished you slipped on a robe, tying it around the waist so it didn’t fall open before you wanted it to. You clasped the necklace around your neck, adjusting it so the large diamond sat in the middle.

When you walked back to the room Jean was sharpening a piece of charcoal. The fireplace had been lit, allowing an ethereal glow to outline him as he worked. You took a moment to admire him before he noticed you.

He softly smiled, his eyes sweeping over you as he stood straighter and put his blade down. You walked over to him, taking graceful steps.

“The last thing I need is another portrait where I look like a delicate flower. I want you to draw me as you see me, Jean.” You smiled at him, showing him the quarter held between your fingers. “And as a paying customer, I expect to receive what I ask for.”

Jean softly laughs as you place the quarter on the table. “And what if I see you as a delicate flower?”

“I know you don’t. Why do you think I asked you to draw me?” You watched him laugh in shock as you winked, taking a step back and seating yourself of the edge of the couch. "How should I pose myself?"

Jean looked you up and down, biting the inside of his cheek in thought. "Laying down," he said after a few moments.

You nodded, untying your robe and slipping it off your shoulders. You draped it on the arm of the sofa, turning your gaze toward Jean.

You watched as his eyes swept over you, trailing the edge of your shoulder as you laid back. He took you in for a moment, mouth slightly agape and eyes sparkling in awe.

He softly shook his head, bringing himself out of his trance as he gave you a once over again. "Life your arms above your head," he said, returning to that same thinking look you loved.

You did as he said, and when he stood from the chair and stepped forward to adjust your pose your breath softly hitched. You felt his warm hands along your arms, gently moving them to his will. You took a moment to admire his own face, the straight slope of his nose and the sharp line of his jaw. His lips looked soft, and you wondered for a moment what they might feel like against your skin.

He stepped back, crossing his arms as he assessed the pose he'd put you in before nodding to himself and sitting back down.

"Alright, don't move," he softly said. You nodded, which made him softly chuckle. "I said don't move."

"Well that was hardly moving," you replied, but a smile spread across your lips anyway.

You watched as he picked up a piece of charcoal and began drawing soft lines across the sheet of parchment. You watched the way his eyes followed the pencil, flicking between you and the drawing. The light coming from the fireplace made his irises glow, making them a beautiful honey color.

You watch as his long and elegant fingers move across the page, eventually staining themselves with the dark charcoal. You remember the many times he had lightly touched you, lingering for longer than he needed to. You remember how warm his hands were, and when you tried hard enough you could imagine they were on you again.

You're not sure who starts the conversation, but most of the time he draws is spent talking. The two of you exchange life stories. You tell him about your upbringing and the people you knew as a child and teenager and he tells you about his.

The entire conversation put into perspective how different the worlds you came from are, but you can't help but think that you were meant to find each other.

He stands when he finished, grabbing your robe from where it was draped and handing it to you. He only shows you the portrait once the robe is tied around you once again.

He's signing and dating it when you come up behind him, slowly wrapping your arms around his neck and resting your head on his shoulder. You softly smile at it when he puts his drawing materials down, turning your head to leave a soft kiss on his lips.

"Thank you," you say.

He turns, your faces barely touching as he gazes into your eyes. "You're welcome."

He leans forward, leaving a quick, chaste peck on your lips.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!! she doesn't have a tumblr account but she is amazing and I wish her the happiest year yet

also, should I make this into an au? idk I kinda liked it

anyways I hope you all enjoyed. as always likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated so please do that!

-Izzy <3

TAGGING: if you'd like to be notified whenever I write for Jean please comment or DM!

#izzy’s imagines ❀#attack on titan #aot #jean kirsten x reader #jean kirschtein fluff #jean kirstein #jean aot #jean kirschtein #jean x reader #jean kirstein x reader #aot x reader #attack on titan x reader #jean attack on titan #jean kirschtien #jean kirschtein imagine

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nondidd · 4 months

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2023 Art Summary 🥳

January remains my most emotional piece. I was processing grief during the one year anniversary of losing a close family member. And it’s apparently the only painting I did this year LOL

After that is where I went back to studying fairytale art. February being a NieR recreation of Arthur Rackham’s The Romance Of King Arthur artwork

Then as for march, that’s where I started to study Henry Clarke and essentially lost my mind for the rest of the year with linework ✌️😩

I had two favs from October so they both go in 🫶

And as for November and December I’ve hit my burnout + busy with health and holidays LOL. Not forcing an illustration just to have one so there’s all my silly little doodles ✌️

Honorable mention is the savanaclaw set I did this year! Wasn’t something I planned on but I had fun making it and it think it’s my most popular set this year. I was surprised so many people liked it 😆

The next photo is a comparison of how I drew FG Ruggie last year compared to this year. I wanted to show the comparison to explain my shift in focus in my illustrations. After studying Clarke’s work I realized I was having fun creating again. Not to say I’m not satisfied with how the older Ruggie piece came out but I found myself often frustrated with it trying to make sure everything was “drawn right” for lack of a better explanation. It was a chore. I’ve come to find I enjoy making illustrations now with the mindset of “how do I want to convey this” rather than “how accurate can I make these details”. Drawing the newer Ruggie was enjoyable the entire time. My focus wasn’t accurate details or semi realistic but rather what emotion could I convey with just these lines and limited color. And that’s how I’ve been moving forward with my art as of late. It’s been fun again

Because of my newfound confidence and enjoyment of creating again I’ve gone back to traditional sketching too. It used to feel so constricted for me but now with loose lines and a loose mindset I’ve been scribbling all over notebooks again 😆

All this ramble to say I’m satisfied with what I’ve done this year. My health needs to start taking priority come 2024 but I hope to still create and share in the new year ✌️ If you took the time to read all this, thank you 🙏

#art summary #art summary 2023

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killmongerskeepermain · 1 year

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Night Terrors // Shuri

Summary/Request: hello ! i’m so happy that shuri has been getting a lot of love these days and more shuri/reader fics are coming in ! i have an idea in mind; after the events of talokan’s ambush and the death of the queen, shuri told the dora to escort her girlfriend ( the reader ) to the palace and she has to live in the palace w/ her from that moment. shuri and the reader has been dating for a while but the reader lived in her own house until shuri’s order. during one night, shuri woke up from her nightmares and the reader got woken up too so she comforted shuri. can you make it happen for me ? thank you !

Pairing: Shuri x Fem!Reader

Warning: PTSD // Fluff // Shuri is a sad babe // I’m here snookums

Word Count: 1.1k

Author’s Note: THIS HAS BEEN IN MY DRAFTS FOR SOOO LONG!!! I kept thinking I posted this. So I apologize to the anon who requested this!

You stood on your balcony with your hands resting on your hips. Today was a slow one. Wakanda was slowly beginning to thrive again. A lot has happened over the course of a week. Namor attacked, Wakanda lost its queen, and Shuri became the black panther. There was so much change that everyone had to endure. Thankfully, Namor agreed to an alliance but on Wakanda’s terms. You found yourself thinking of Shuri. So much has been taken from her in so little time. Before his passing, T'Challa had asked you to live in Wakanda. For Shuri’s sake, as he knew he only had little time left. You thought back to when the two of you were alone, and you witnessed her break for the first time. She went on about how she couldn’t do more. To save them. You held her in your arms, whispering words of encouragement and praise while she cried. You bit your lip at the memory and shook it away as you walked back inside.

Looking around you still have papers everywhere. A couple of clothes and your rug had bad water damage.

“Okay.” You decided to clean up your small home to waste time before you went to the palace to see Shuri. You’ve made sure to check up on her everyday since her breakdown. Once your living room finally looked decent you turned to look at the ruined rug and sighed.

“I’ll have to add a rug to my shopping list.” You moved to roll the rug up before attempting to pick it up. The water left in it made it heavier than it looked. “Damn it.” You opted to drag the blasted thing out the door. Unbeknownst to you, there would be a body there. You nearly jumped out of your skin but relaxed when you noticed it was Ayo.

“You cannot be doing that Ayo!” You shouted and she snickered.

“Good morning Y/N.” You looked behind her to see 2 more Dora Milaje behind her. You held your chest as you threw the rug.

“You guys want something to drink? Coffee? Tea?” You offered and the woman shook her head.

“No thank you. But appreciate the offer. We are here on orders from the princess.” She told you and your head perked up.

“Is she okay? What’s going on?” Ayo grabbed your hand and nodded.

“She has sent us to retrieve you. You’ve been summoned to the palace. On important business.” She told you softly and you nodded. “Yeah. Okay just let me get my notebook.” The Dora Milaje wasted no time escorting you to the palace, where Shuri was already waiting. She wasted no time to wrap her arms around you as you held onto her.

“Everything alright? What’s going on?” You were confused until her shoulder slightly shook. “Hey, Shuri, let’s go up to your room okay. There you can tell me what’s going on.” You practically had to drag her there and sit her down on the bed. “Talk to me love. What bothers you?"

"I need you. Here in the palace. With me. After what happened to my mother, you’re all I have left. I can’t sleep alone anymore.” She mumbled and you took her face into your hands.

“Okay. I’ll stay here with you. Now come here.” You pulled her on top of you as she laid her head on your chest. You stayed that way until the two of you got up for a shower. There you took her mind off of everything and pleased her the way she deserved. You luckily already had some clothes in her room so when you got dressed you waited for her to come out. You had heard a couple of sniffles and you realized just how bad she needed you. When she came out her eyes were wide as if expecting you to be gone.

“Will you stay with me sthandwa?” She asked softly and you reached out for her hand. You held her hand before placing a kiss on every knuckle.

“I will stay with you my love. I’m not going anywhere.” You said and she fell into you. The two of you laid in bed talking about sweet nothings until you drifted off into slumber. You were woken up by erratic movements coming from Shuri’s side of the bed. Sitting up ready to question her, your eyes focused on the woman’s brow and she seemed to be having a nightmare. Her hands fisted the sheets as she fought off whatever her mind was projecting and you lightly tapped her shoulder.

“Shuri. Baby wake up, you’re having a nightmare.” You said in a hushed voice, not trying to scare her. You turned on the lamp next to your bed and leaned over her brushing the back of your hand down her cheek. She was shivering and you knew you had to wake her or she could hurt herself.

“Mama.” She muttered and you felt your heart clench. You knew this would not be easy for her.

“Usana. It’s me. I need you to hear me. It’s time to wake up.” You rubbed her arms and noticed she let go of the sheets while you comforted her.

“My love. Wake up.” You mumbled and her eyes snapped open as she shot up in a cold sweat. She looked around the room praying the horror of what plagued her dreams didn’t follow her. She caught her breath before her eyes landed on your worried form. She put her head in her hands, mumbling to herself while you rubbed her back.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” Her lip quivered and you took the initiative to grab her chin, gently turning her to face you.

“Now what are you apologizing for? You have every right to have these nightmares. You’ve been through alot and have been struck with grief.” You told her with a smile. “Is that why you wanted me to stay here with you?” Her nod was the only reply you got as you ran a hand through her hair. Before traveling down past her stomach to her hip.

“I told you I’d be here as long as you need me, my love. That won’t change. Not now. Not ever.” You told her as she stared at you with admiration swimming in her eyes. You pecked her lips softly and you held the back of her neck to deepen the kiss. Your tongue poked at her lips and she opened her mouth for you to explore. When you pulled away to take a breath, you brushed her curls away from her eyes and gave her a genuine smile. “I love you.” You pecked her lips again. “So much.” And again. You kissed her tears away and she held you tightly as if you would disappear. “If you want we can stay up and talk about it. If not, I can hold you while you sleep.”

“What would I do without you my love?” For the first time today Shuri felt as if her world was molding back together. It will be a challenge but with you by her side, she’s willing to fight.

#poc reader #princess shuri #queen shuri #shuri #shuri black panther #shuri fanfiction #shuri fluff #shuri imagine #shuri udaku #shuri x reader #wakanda forever #shuri x black!reader #shuri x fem!reader

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bitchesuntitled · 5 months

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Through the Motions

Pairing: Francisco “Catfish” Morales x Reader

Summary: You and Frankie decide to start a family. Regardless of your mental illness and the challenges it faces.

Warnings: Mental health, cussing, pregnancy, bit of angst, comfort, fluffff, pretty much sums it up

A/N: Sooo…. This would be my first fic I’ve ever actually put out for the entire world to read. I used to have several 5 subject notebooks full of fanfic for myself and my cousins to read cause they were the only ones I trusted with that part of my brain. 15 years later and here I am. I had 4 different friends read it before I posted. All of which gave amazing input and helped me with wording, grammar, punctuation, etc. I love you guys!!! @hessofather(knows all about mentally ill pregnancy cause she did that), @jay-zzle(Spanish expert), @bi-panda(help with grammar and punctuation) and Sarah(helped with wording, who needs to get a tumblr)

Special shout out to: @chloeangelic- Thank you for being so helpful to this newbie with your writing advice! You saw this fic before it became what it is now, hopefully it’s still as interesting as you thought it was to begin with @gracieispunk for just telling me to go for it! ❤️❤️❤️

HERE GOES IT! 🫣

Masterlist

At the time you felt like this was a good idea, that you were strong enough to handle it, that it would get better as time went on. Except now you’re not so sure.

*****

It was your idea first, trying for a baby and Frankie was ecstatic. You’d discussed kids before but it was always in a wishful way, too nervous to stop the meds to actually try. Late one night while in bed you decide to talk about it once more.

“What if you can’t handle my episodes?”

“Such as…” He asks moving on his side propping up his head with his fist.

“Well… I’m kinda, actually no, I’m crazy without meds. You haven’t had to experience that side of me but other people have. I had so much rage in me all the time, I would snap in an instant at the smallest of things, there were days I couldn’t even get out of bed. I almost lost my job at one point.” You say rubbing your face trying not to think of the past without meds. He moves your hands and cups your cheek turning your head towards him.

“Hey now, we don’t have to do this. It’s up to you. I’d love it if we could have a version of you and me out in this world but it’s not a necessity if you don’t want to. I’m still going to be here whether we decide to do this or not”

“Oh god, the manic episodes! I’ve gotten those under control finally because of the meds but the mania was almost just as bad as the depression! Sooo many bad decisions, honestly surprised I don’t have a kid already. Definitely had a rise in my labido during the manic episodes,” with widened eyes and a panicked look you start to back track “Sorry! I’m so sorry! I’m rambling now.”

“Shhh, we all have a past,” Frankie laughs, shaking his head, “If we’re being truthful here though- if we try for a baby that would be helpful, right?”

You laugh and roll your eyes.

“Yeah, I guess you got me there.”

*****

Thinking about it and doing it are two completely different things. The trying part was definitely fun and then it happened. Those two pink lines happened a lot faster than you were expecting. What now? You have to get off your meds. That’s what you have to do now. It’s really happening. There is now a life growing inside of you. You thought you were ready for this. Mentally trying to prepare yourself for the moment the meds had to stop, the pregnancy hormones and what they’ll do, the changes your body will go through, the mindset you’ll need to have going through this, so much to prepare for. Then the first slip up happens. It took 3 weeks, 3 weeks for the first incident to happen.

“Oh, I see!” You say gritting your teeth, “So I need to have supper ready for you when you get home? Like I’m some 50s fucking housewife?!”

“That’s not what I even said. All I asked was what are we having for supper? I did not mean what are YOU making for supper.” Frankie said as calmly as he could. He never thought his army training would help him in a situation like this. They teach you how to handle dangerous territories, hostile situations, survival, and so much more. But this? No one ever trains you for this. For a hormonal, mentally ill, pregnant lady.

You can feel your face hot from anger turning into one of embarrassment and shame instead. Your bottom lip begins to tremble. You realize your mistake immediately. Not sure if it’s the mental illness or the hormones rushing through your body. It all kinda feels the same right now. Frankie notices the change immediately and rushes towards you.

“Bebé, bebé, bebé,” He says quietly wrapping his arms around you, pushing your head into the crook of his neck. “It’s okay. You’re okay. We’re okay. We’ll get through this just like everything else. I’m here.”

“I hate this!” You sob

*****

Your entire pregnancy you feel as if you’re going through constant loops. The manic and depressive episodes coming in waves. You sense it before it happens, a lot like when you can smell rain before it starts. The only thing is when. When is it going to hit you? Will it be a depressive episode? Where you find it near impossible to even get up but you have to in order to make sure things are ready for this baby. Will it be a manic episode? Where you have so much energy it feels like you’re going to crawl out of your own skin but also in a way beneficial because you can get so much ready for the nursery. Will it be one of sadness, anger, anxiousness? What will it be and can you make yourself stop it? Doubtful, you never can, just like now.

**9 months later**

He plops down at the kitchen table sighing. The baby has finally gone to sleep. After 2 hours of crying there is finally silence.

“What‘s wrong?” Frankie asks

“I don’t know.” you sigh, putting the last bottle in the dish rack to dry.

He can tell something is wrong by your actions. The way you’ve been rigid. You’re so stiff. You’re so tense. You feel on edge about every little thing.

The baby is crying. Needs changed again. The baby is crying. Needs fed again. The baby is crying. Needs soothed again. The baby is crying. When is there time to sleep? So over-stimulated it’s almost too much to bear.

It’s only been 2 weeks since the baby arrived and you’re back on meds finally. As with all things though, it takes time.

“What’s wrong? Hermosa, please tell me.” he asks again

“It’s just one of those days.”

One of those days, the hatred for yourself you feel. Am I a good mom yet? Am I doing everything that needs done? Is there anything I missed? I have to be perfect on the outside. Why am I NOT perfect on the outside? Can I even pretend to be perfect? The internal battle is almost too much. You don’t want to look at him. You don’t want him to see how much your mind is making you suffer because he will see it, he always sees it now.

“Baby, please talk to me!” He pleads

You push yourself off the kitchen sink and finally turn around wrapping your arms around yourself and you know he sees it. Your mind starts racing. He thinks you’re a failure. He wants to give up on you. He doesn’t want to deal with you anymore.

He gets up and takes a step closer, you take a step back. Not ready for the comfort, the consoling, the pity party to ensue. He grabs you before you can get too far away.

“You're an amazing momma. Don’t sell yourself short!”

“Hold on,” You start to remove yourself from him, “I need to get the hamburger out for supper tomorrow.”

He furrows his brows letting you go and sighs, “Will you sit down, please?”

Reluctantly you sit down and your mind starts racing and panicking again. Why does he want me to sit? Why did he sigh? Is he mad at me? Did I do something wrong?

The baby monitor goes off and you start to get up again

“Stop, sit. I got this. Stay here.”

So you sit. You sit at the kitchen table with your mind spiraling and wondering what to expect next. Can he change the diaper? Can he make the bottle if the baby needs feeding? Can he soothe the baby to go back to sleep? What does the baby need?

You hear the crackle of the monitor

“Momma is so tired, isn’t she? She needs a break sometimes. She takes such good care of you while I’m at work.“ the baby starts to wail louder, that must be the getting diaper changed cry, “Oh yes, I know mi vida, it’s so cold and momma does it better but daddy is here and can do it too.” Low and behold you are correct!

The baby stops crying. Soothed for now. Who knows how long it’ll be before they’re awake again. Frankie comes back to the kitchen.

“Mi amor, we should get to bed.”

You nod while he grabs the baby monitor then your hand, in a daze you let him lead you to the bedroom. He helps you change your clothes for the first time in three days. Frankie grabs your brush, he gently brushes til the knots are out of your hair and he puts it in a bun the way you like. He grabs you around the waist and guides you into the bed. Laying there together, he’s whispering words of praise to you, “Eres hermosa, you’re a good momma, you’re perfecto for me and our baby” placing soft kisses to your neck with each phrase, and then you hear his soft snoring. With silent tears falling down your face you finally start to drift off to sleep, you suddenly remember you forgot the hamburger meat. You try to move but with Frankie’s warmth and tight grip surrounding you you easily give up, guess there is always tomorrow.

#pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #reader fic #i’m new to this #be kind #white girl doing Spanish #angst #comfort #fanfic writing #fanfiction #fanfic #fluff #pedro pascal #y/n fics

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ellesliterarycorner · 1 year

Text

Tips for NaNoWriMo 2022

NaNoWriMo 2022 is 12 hours away! I will not be staying up to midnight to start writing cause your girl needs her sleep, but I am still so excited to write tomorrow! Last year, NaNoWriMo went extremely well for me, and I’m trying not to hold myself to the same standards this year cause I’m in the middle of college apps now. Still, I am so in love with the story I’m going to be writing, and I cannot wait to dive into this new world with all these new characters. NaNoWriMo can be extremely intimidating, especially if it’s your first time trying it out. 50,000 words in 30 days is a whole lot of words in not a whole lot of days. Don’t worry! Here are a few tips to keep NaNo 2022 as stress free and fun as possible.

Word Vomit and Writing Sprints

My biggest problem when doing NaNo in past years is that I let my perfectionism get in the way of just writing! I never believe in editing as you write, but it’s especially bad when you’re writing for NaNo. December is for editing whatever mess you wrote; November is for actually getting it all down. Normally, I don’t do word writing sprints, but writing sprints during NaNo are the most helpful things on the planet. Challenging yourself to sit still and write as many words as possible for 5 minutes is so helpful in reaching your daily writing goal! I often call the product of those little writing sprints ‘word vomit.’ It’s messy, probably makes no sense, and will definitely end up getting deleted later, but it’s words and they’re on the page. That’s the most important part! I talk about this more later, but NaNo is not about writing pretty; it’s about writing fast. My favorite thing to do during NaNo is employ the trusty bracket method: if I have absolutely no clue what to write next I simply write a short description of what I want to happen in brackets and move on to the next thing that I know I can write. This is one of the times when quantity is far better than quality. You’ll have time to make it pretty later. For now, just do a writing sprint, and word vomit!

Winning Isn’t Everything!

It’s the only thing! Jk jk. I have a complicated relationship with the “winning” and “losing” aspect of NaNoWriMo. On one hand, it is kinda a competition, but on the other hand, saying you either win or lose something puts a whole lot of pressure and stress on it, especially for young writers. I used to get so upset when I ‘lost’ NaNo even though I had written thousands of words and completely exhausted myself in the process. Now, I tend to take a much more lax approach to it, and I think that comes from having been on both sides of it. 'Winning’ and ‘losing’ Nano has been pretty much equally beneficial to me as writer and as a person. It helps you grow and learn what works for you and what doesn’t work! Now, I’m not saying all this to say that I’m just going to relax and not even going to try to write 50,000 words in November. I definitely am going to try, but at the same time, writing something is better than writing nothing, so I count that as a win either way. If you are completely committed to doing whatever you can to reach your NaNo goal, though, make sure to be kind to yourself. We’re only human!

Playlist? Check! Tea? Check! Chocolate? Check!

Some people jump straight into NaNo without an outline and with only a vague idea of what they’re writing. Some people (me included) have a full detailed outline ready to go at 12AM. It doesn’t matter which side you’re on. But, I do recommend no matter what, take at least five minutes to decide where you're going to write! It doesn’t have to be the same place every time even though I do love me a good little routine. Maybe you carve out a little space in your room, or you have your favorite writing nook in your local library! Whatever works for you and your writing process! I also recommend having a little writer bag. I take mine with me to school every day. It has my headphones, my planning notebook, my laptop charger, a bottle of CrystalLite iced tea, and some Hershey Kisses: all the things that bring me joy and prepare me to get in my writing headspace. Having all those things nearby and easily accessible helps cut down on prep time and decreases procrastination or my worst enemy.

NaNo Your Way!

This is probably my biggest tip. I didn’t start actually winning and enjoying myself until I realized that it really didn’t matter what anyone else was doing. It was me against me. My own self-doubt was my own worst enemy. That means that during NaNo do whatever you want! If you want to write 50,000 words of poetry instead of a novel, do that! That is still 50,000 words of writing, and that is a major accomplishment, and tbh, slightly more impressive. The beauty of NaNo is how every person does it differently, but we all come together to create something at the end of it! Don’t worry about finding the perfect word or filling all of those plot hole! Like I said earlier, all of that will come later! Take full advantage of the absolute messiness of NaNo! You don't have to write anything to please anybody but yourself. If you do happen to be writing something that you want to edit later and publish, then whatever you write in a first draft is for those future versions of you to edit and rewrite. Right now, it’s worthy just as it is, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

#nanowrimo #nanowrimo 2022 #writing #writers on tumblr #writers of ig #writers of instagram #writers of insta #writing tip #writing tips #writing advice #writing reference #writing references #writing resource #writing resources

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snexy-the-snail · 1 month

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Man it's been a while since I've been in this askbox. Shame.

Anyway, I'm looking at you with my big ol eyes I know nothing about PJO but I am incredibly invested in this thing you have going on here so... Triton and/or Percy vibes, perhaps?

Okay but like in your defense I have weird hours and peace out constantly XD

Having said that- this is legit the first ‘fandom’ I was in, I’m talking about writing little fiction in my notebooks, reading fanfiction Obsessively like I mean to the point where my parents had to turn the internet off (did not stop me) I legit lost my shit when I realized that I could roleplay these characters instead of creating people- it was great.

Also!!! Yes, long time!!!! It’s good to be back and see you <3

BUT!!! YESS Vibes!!

Percy straight up cannot get used to this whole thing at first, mostly because half the time like I’ve mentioned he gets yoinked when he’s sleeping because Triton’s solves the whole nightmare situation (sure technically Percy just needs to be near a God but plot) So when it’s done when he’s conscious he straight up cannot sit still. He doesn't know if he should curl up or stretch out, when he can move, if he should move, what conversations he should have etc.

This only gets more awkward when Triton starts being more affectionate because Percy has no idea why at first. Like yes,, he had a vague sense of what’s happening when he’s asleep but not to the point where he realizes that Triton’s tucking him away.

It’s not until a little royal diplomat party that he’s way over his head in that it comes out what’s been happening during his visits to Atlantis. Percy’s just stressed to the nines because Mers keeps coming up to him to fawn over him and of course thanks to being human they’re all towering over him. Triton suggests tucking Percy away and after a bit and reluctance he agrees.

#safe vore #extreme cuddling #pjo vore

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draguta · 1 year

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.just the way you are | eight.

pairing: dbf!bucky x fem!reader

summary: back home in brooklyn, job lost, dumped, unable to pay rent, and utterly ashamed of yourself. of course your dad had offered out your childhood bedroom, but what happens when you bump into his best friend once again, this time no longer the teenager that you were when you left?

chapter word count: 2192

series warnings: age gap (reader 24, bucky 39)

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please remember to reblog, like, and share a comment if you enjoy it - it’s always appreciated by writers to see their hard work valued.

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“Can you pass me that please?” You asked, motioning to the plant pot that was still sitting on your desktop. Bucky huffed, but picked it up, stepping over a couple of boxes to hand it to you. It was just the two of you in your room, packing up your entire life into boxes once again, your dad having gone downstairs to make everyone some tea. Ever since the day by the lake Bucky had been distant, quiet, and you didn’t blame him for that, but you couldn’t help but miss the way that it had been before. It seemed as though every time the two of you would begin joking around and having fun, either one of you would remember, remember the mutterings of ‘I love you’, remember the plastic ring pulled from his jeans pocket, the proposal, and the revelation that you were leaving. You still hadn’t given him an answer to his question, even if you knew what you wanted to say.

Yes.

But you couldn’t, not now, not like this. Not when everything you owned was in boxes, not when everything you knew was hanging in the air like a penny ready to drop.

You slipped the plant into a box, cradling it in place with a few books so that it wouldn’t spoil during the flight, before sighing and flopping onto the side of your bed.

“Can’t we just talk about this, please?” You begged. You needed to know what he was thinking, needed to know what the next step was for the two of you, where to go from the impossible situation that you had found yourselves in.

“What is there to talk about?” Bucky muttered, piling a few notebooks into a box and turning to begin folding some of your clothes.

“I think there’s a lot that we need to talk about,” you countered. “And we don’t have a lot of time left.”

“Yeah, we don’t,” he stated firmly, refusing to meet your eye. “Because you’re leaving, and I’m staying. It’s as simple as that. Is that enough talking for you?”

“No, it’s not,” you snapped, rising to your feet and beginning to pace the wooden floorboards of your bedroom. “I can’t leave like this, Bucky. Not when you won’t speak to me. We haven’t even argued about it, nothing! You won’t talk to me, you won’t even look at me! What do you want me to do?”

“I don’t expect you to do anything,” Bucky snapped, throwing the dress that he had been folding into a box, now a heap that you knew you would have to re-fold. He threw his hands up in the air, turning to you, rage intermingled in the blue of his irises. “I proposed to you and you decided to move to a different city.”

“Y-You don’t think it’s because you proposed do you?” You asked quietly, your face falling from anger to sadness. You had never seen Bucky so defeated, so lost before. It broke your heart more than you knew was even possible.

“What else am I supposed to think?”

“This isn’t about you, Bucky,” you stated calmly, navigating your way through the boxes. “This is about me, about my career.”

Bucky simply scoffed, turning away from you and kicking the box he had been filling in frustration.

“I’m allowed to do something for myself, Bucky,” you argued, although you weren’t really sure why you were arguing anymore. You had made your decision, and as much as you wanted to stay and marry Bucky, your decision wasn’t about to change. You placed your hands on your temple, rubbing gentle circles in an attempt to counter the headache that was erupting. It felt as though you’d had the same argument on a constant repeat ever since that day by the lake, and now, with only two days remaining before you left for Chicago, it really felt as though this would be how you and Bucky left it. “Why don’t you come with me?”

“What, come to Chicago?” He asked with a raised eyebrow, turning back to you.

“Yes, come with me!” You squealed. “It’s perfect! Then I can still take my new job, and we can still be together.”

Bucky groaned loudly, enough that you felt it reverberate throughout the now almost empty room. “I can’t just move to Chicago,” he countered. “My entire life is here, my job, my apartment, my friends! Do you really think I would give all of that up? There’s nothing for me in Chicago!”

“You would have me,” you said quietly.

He turned slowly, his face softening ever-so-slightly. “It’s not enough.”

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes in an attempt to calm yourself. That was your final solution, and he had shot it down in only a moment.

“I guess we’ve reached a crossroads then,” was all you could say. He looked down at you, his eyes filled with sadness.

“I guess we have.”

There was a beat of silence, neither of you really knowing what to say, until Bucky finally spoke up.

“I-I can’t do this.”

And then he was gone, pushing through the boxes and out of your bedroom door, just as your dad appeared with the tea that he had made. He watched Bucky race down the stairs and out of the front door, before turning back to you with a frown.

“What’s wrong with him?” He asked, and all you could do was shrug, all of your energy going into fighting down the sobs that were quickly coming to the surface.

You were cold, shivering in fact, when you finally reached Bucky’s apartment building. You had been certain that a stroll through the city would clear your mind, and even through the downfall of rain that came crashing down, seemingly out of nowhere, as if the universe itself was showing pity for you, you hadn’t realised where you were going until you were already outside Bucky’s apartment building.

Your shoes squelched with water as you took the stairs, wrapping your arms tightly around your body, a soggy moose toy hanging limply from your fingertips. Your hair stuck to your face, your mascara running down your cheeks, but whether that was from the rain or the tears that you had shed, you weren’t sure.

That’s how you found yourself, soaked to the skin, outside of Bucky’s door. But you couldn’t bring yourself to knock; you didn’t even know what you would say if you did. It was then that you heard his voice on the other side of the door, clear as day, seemingly close enough to the door that you were certain if you opened it you would fall into his embrace.

“No, Steve. I told you to look at her resume, offer her a job if she fitted the criteria,” he said firmly, and you leaned closer to the door to hear him better. “What I didn’t tell you to do was move her across the fucking country.”

There was a lull in conversation, and you assumed that the other person was speaking.

“Yes, yes I know you were doing me a favour,” Bucky’s voice sounded again, this time more desperate, broken almost. You heard him sigh before he spoke again. “I know she’s amazing, she deserves that job.”

You frowned before it dawned on you; Bucky had been the one to send your resume to Rogers Ltd. He had been helping you behind the scenes the entire time, and had never asked for any credit. Your heart hurt; he truly was the best of people.

“N-No, don’t withdraw the offer, please,” Bucky sighed again. “Like you said, she deserves the job. Thanks Steve.”

Silence.

You drew in a shaky breath before curling your fingers into a fist and knocking gently on the door. You turned, closing your eyes tightly, trying to find any of the composure to cling onto that was leaving you so quickly, until you heard the door unlock and click open.

You caught his eye, the phone in his hand that still showed the runtime of his previous call, the frown that he was wearing, the sadness behind the confused smile that he masked onto his face.

“Y/N.” After a moment he stepped to the side allowing you inside, and you quickly pushed past him. He closed the door behind you, and you felt his hand on the small of your back, as if it were its home, so natural and normal now, as he ushered you to the couch. “You’re shivering. Let me get you a towel.”

“No,” you stuttered, grabbing onto his wrist and pulling him down to the couch. For a moment he looked startled, but he slid onto the cushion beside you, concern filtering over his features in an instant.

Another shaky breath, and you finally looked up at him, and in only a second tears began to well in your eyes, your shoulders beginning to shake as you took your bottom lip between your teeth as you tried to compose yourself. He looked so beautiful, the lights of the darkened city seeping through the window behind you to cast colours against his pale skin, purples and blues that made his very features, every part of his appearance that you loved so much, glow in the darkness.

He had been your beacon from the moment you had arrived back in Brooklyn all those months ago, the one that had picked you up when you fell, and had guided you through the hard times. It was him, you realised, that had been by your side when you had needed someone, had cared for you when you felt broken. He had put you back together again, taking each shard of your heart and sticking it to the next as carefully and delicately as you would with a broken vase.

You traced his features. The curve of his nose as it came to a soft point at the end, a slight bump in the bridge where he had broken it long ago. The shape of his lips, always curled into a smile even when he was angry or sad, encircled by a moat of dark scruff. His eyes and the way that they gleamed, a different shade of blue or grey every time you looked into them, like the sky changing colour through its seasons. The thought occurred to you that this might be the last time that you were able to look at them, at his features, at him, in the same way. With love, with hope of a future. Never again would you be able to cherish him again.

“P-Please don’t tell me this is the end,” you whispered through sobs. “P-Please don’t s-say it.”

“Y/N.”

“No.” It was firmer than you intended, but the choke of a sob that followed made it seem weak, your confidence was all but lost. “P-Please. Just one more kiss. That’s all I ask. O-One more kiss. One more night together. One more breakfast. One more cigarette in the treehouse. One more day at the arcade. One more Sunday morning in bed.”

“Y/N.”

“P-Please!” You begged.

He leaned forward, running a hand through his hair, inhaling deeply, before turning to you and wrapping his hands around your own. His eyes flickered between your own, filled with despair and you knew, in that second, that there was no salvaging what you had. It was gone, now just a memory.

“Y/N, I love you,” he whispered. The rain pattered gently against the window outside, the sound of cars passing by on the road below, but none of it could distract you from his words, could pull you away from that moment.

“I-I love you too,” you whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s OK,” he replied, a tear slipping from his eye and tracking down his cheek to get lost in his stubble. “This might be what’s right for us, to go our separate ways.”

“B-But you said we’re meant to be,” you gasped out, your shoulders shaking, your face scrunched in pain.

“I thought we were.”

“Thought?”

“I think-I think now I was wrong.” It was a simple reply, but the ache that it brought to your chest was anything but simple. It was agony, an unbearable pain that you knew would never go away. It truly felt like you would feel like that forever. You sniffled, bringing a hand up to wipe away your tears, ignoring the mascara that smeared onto the back of your hand; that was the least of your worries.

“So this is it then?” You asked. “We break up?”

You begged him not to say it, prayed to any God that might have been listening to push him to change his mind, to try.

“We break up.”

You sobbed as you rose to your feet, not sparing him another glance, unable to look at him for fear that the pain you felt in your chest at the sight of him might kill you altogether. You pushed out of his door and back out into the rain, the heart that he had glued back together shattering once more.

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