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sporesmoldandfungi · 2 years

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i love your writing! can i request some more baby fever ray content? maybe about body positivity thank you!

Twins? - Ray Stanz x F!Pregnant!Reader

A/N : Hello! Sorry for getting this out so late. I tried first person narrative on this one, and I think it turned out pretty well. I hope you enjoy it!

Dating a Ghostbuster came with its challenges. Dating a Ghostbuster as well as being his baby mama, that was even more challenging.

Sometimes, I lay awake at night, thanking whoever is up there for not making me knocked up with Peter’s baby, or even Egon’s. I got pretty lucky with Ray.

He was always kind, considerate, compassionate, funny, all the things you would want in a partner. But now, he was working overtime making sure I was comfortable and taken care of.

Now, that’s absolutely great, but there are some things that come with carrying and growing a human that cannot be cured with chocolates and back massages.

I was almost through my first trimester, and all things considered, I was pretty lucky with my symptoms. Morning sickness was minimal, I didn’t have to use the bathroom every five minutes, and I felt all around like myself. However, I experienced the most intense food cravings ever. Once my mind and stomach were set on something, I had to have it. Today, it just happened to be a McDonald’s hamburger.

Peter and Egon were sitting up in the lab when I emerged from the sleeping quarters. I stretched as I walked over to the large couch in the middle of the room, waiting for Ray to return with my food.

“How ya feeling, Y/N?” Peter asked, a big ol’ smirk on his face.

I turned to face him, “How do you think, Venkman?”

“Like you just won Prom Queen.”

I ignored him, turning back around. “Always a pleasure, Peter.”

Egon cleared his throat, “Have you considered the idea of you carrying twins, Y/N?”

“Uh, no. Why do you ask?” I asked, having to turn around once more.

“Your stomach size looks bigger than it should be at this stage. I could run some tests, if you would like.” Egon said.

I looked down at my stomach. Sure, it was a bit bigger than I would have liked, but I was pregnant for Christ’s sake, I wasn’t supposed to be beach body ready.

“I’m good, Egon.” I said, pulling myself out of my thoughts.

“You may be onto something, Spengs. Remember Priscilla from Colombia? Man, she got knocked up a year ago and I ran into her when she was about to pop. You would not know she was even pregnant, she still looked as good as ever. Probably would have thrown a twin in there if she hadn’t told me.” Peter said.

“That’s not how it works, Peter.” Egon said.

Before they could continue their discussion, Ray ran up the stairs, a McDonald’s bag in hand. He was panting as he ran over to hand it to me. I quickly began devouring the hamburger. Ray gave me a smile before joining his two friends at the lab table.

“What’d I miss?” he asked, still trying to catch his breath.

“We were discussing the likelihood of Y/N being pregnant with twins.” Egon explained.

Ray shook his head, “There’s no way. We would have known by now if she was.”

“Then why is she swelling like a balloon?” Peter asked.

“Peter!” Egon whispered at him.

“What? I’m just asking!” he replied defensively.

I looked over at the men and then at the crumbs of what was left of the burger. I was never one to get insecure about my body, but this kid was doing things to me I absolutely despised. I didn’t even notice the tears in my eyes until my vision became blurry. Before I could listen to the men continue to talk about me like I wasn’t there, I stood up, making the three of their heads whip in my direction.

“I’m going to go lay down. Thank you, Ray.” I mumbled, quickly rushing into the sleeping quarters once more.

I could hear Ray say something to Peter before he quickly followed me. The door closed as I threw the covers of me. I could feel Ray’s eyes on me as I lay on the bed.

“Are you alright?” he asked, after a long, awkward silence.

“I’m fine.” I lied.

The weight of the bed shifted as Ray sat at the edge of the bed. His gentle hand rested on my leg. He took a deep breath before speaking, “Just ignore, Venkman. He has zero clue what he’s talking about.”

I sat up, wiping stray tears from my cheeks. “No, he’s right. I’m huge.”

Ray opened his mouth to speak but I interrupted him.

“I always hated women who always talked about how fat they looked when they were pregnant. It’s like, everyone’s fat when they are pregnant, stop whining. But now, I’m feeling like that.” I said, my voice cracking. The emotions I felt didn’t seem so intense until I started letting it all out. I didn’t realize how much I had bottled up.

Ray moved to sit beside me, he placed an arm around my waist. “I think you look beautiful.”

I groaned, “You have to say that.”

He smiled at me, wiping my face with his sleeve. “No, I don’t. I truly think you look beautiful, Y/N. You are so strong, I could never be in your position and still look so amazing.”

I laughed lightly and Ray smiled at me. “I still think you’re full of shit.”

“You can think that, but I will know the truth.” Ray said, not giving up.

I leaned into him, resting my head on his shoulder. “Thank you, Ray. I can’t wait until this baby is out of me so you can be the emotional one again.”

He looked at me, pretending to be offended. “Me? Emotional? Never.”

“Who was the one who cried at the end of “Muppets in Manhattan”? I teased.

“Shut up.” He joked, pulling me closer to him. I snuggled into his chest, smiling as he rubbed circles into my back.

Like many nights before this one, I looked up at the sky and thanked that Ray was in this with me. Thanked that he chose me to do this with. Thanked that I wasn’t alone. And lastly, thanked that I was not Peter Venkman’s baby mama, because then I’d be screwed.

#ray stanz x you #ray stanz x reader #ray stanz #ray x reader #pregnant!reader #ghostbusters #egon spengler #peter venkman #peter #egon #ray #ray stantz #ghostbusters 1984 #ghostbusters1989 #request

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heloisedaphnebrightmore · 4 years

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Obviously oblivious [Fred Weasley x Reader]

Title: Obviously oblivious Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader Word count: 2k Published: 8 September, 2020 Author: Heloise Daphne Brightmore Notes: My first ever Fred fic. Don't go too hard on me, pretty please. Summary: You have liked Fred for the longest time and Fred has been having a crush on you, but you are just being oblivious, until he finally takes the first step.

Harry Potter Characters Masterlist | Masterlists

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You were seated in the Gryffindor common room, talking to Lee Jordan and Oliver Wood about the upcoming quidditch match against Ravenclaw, when the Weasley twins stepped in the room with an identical smile across their face.

George plopped down beside you with a huge grin across his face, making you suspicious. You knew too much about their pranks and stupid little tricks. You didn't mind them as for some unknown reason they didn't include you in their games.

Fred sat down on your other side, throwing his arm across the sofa behind you, the same grin present across his face as his brother's, making you even more suspicious.

"How are you beautiful?" Fred asked sweetly. Using pet names with you has become a habit of his, but you didn't mind. You had a huge crush on the older twin, but your friendship was too important to you to say anything. You just enjoyed his company and treasured the sweet moments as long as you could.

"That grin across your face says I should be scared of you, so not too well." You replied, squinting your eyes at the boy.

"Come on, Y/N. Why would you think like that? We are just two happy people." George chipped in.

"When it comes to you, I can't stop thinking when I will be your next target." You spoke as your eyes wandered between the twins, lingering a tad bit longer on Fred.

"You're exempt of our pranks and you know that." Fred replied, getting hold of the end of your hair, gently swirling it around his finger.

"And why is that?" You asked. Fred's hand stopped abruptly, as if searching for the words. You have never seen Fred speechless, but it made the moment even sweeter.

"Yes, Fred, why is that?" George quipped in with an even bigger smile.

"Because you are my best friend." He replied, his voice more confident than he planned it to be. You felt your heart sink deep, even though you knew he only thought of you as a friend.

"Wait a second, when did Georgie fall to second place?" You tried to cover your pain with some humour.

"Yes, Fred, when did I fall to second place?" George joined in once again, a rather big grin spread across his face. You chuckled at his tone, but your eyes never left Fred's chocolate brown eyes.

"Can you just put a lock on it?" Fred turned to his brother who simply replied with a snickering sound. "Both of you are my best friends, you don't need to fight over me." He replied with a mischievous smirk.

"As if we would fight for you." You scoffed with a playful smile, exchanging a bored look with George.

"Not worth it." George took your side in agreement.

"Okay, well I'm happy you get along so well. You don't have to love me so much." He pouted as George stood up and took a seat beside his brother, both of you squeezing Fred in a big hug. You felt Fred's arm wrap around you, making you shiver in his embrace, but you tried to ignore the feeling, not wanting to give yourself false hope.

"We love you, Freddie." George chuckled. "Some of us may be more than the other." He smirked confidently, but you didn't think much of it.

The quidditch game was already on, both teams working hard for a win. Bludgers flew around furiously, the quaffle changed owners faster than one could see. Seekers attempted to follow the tiny golden ball which was dodging the players successfully.

Your eyes were fixed on the older ginger twin, his confident smirk taking your attention away from the game. You watched as he hit the bludger, sending it straight towards a Ravenclaw keeper, who barely had time to change direction. George offered a thumbs up to his brother, both sharing a nod in agreement.

You turned your eyes away, focusing them on the Gryffindor seeker, Harry Potter as you watched him almost getting hold of the golden snitch. You screamed from the top of your lungs, encouraging him. His hand was right above the ball, before gripping on it, holding it up in the air triumphantly.

You squealed in happiness. Jumping up and down on the spectator stand, celebrating with the rest of Gryffindor. Your smile was visible from a mile away and Fred wasn't one to miss it. He looked at George who just gave him a goofy smile, making him roll his eyes. He flew over to you, lowering his broom over the audience, showing you one of his mischievous signature smiles.

"What are you doing?" You asked as he offered his hand to you.

"Come with me." He replied shaking his extended hand, waiting for you to accept it. You didn't have to be told twice, even though you were not a fan of flying. You knew you would be safe with Fred, even if he was an annoying little brat sometimes. He pulled up the broom, forcing you to lock your arms around him. You squeezed your eyes shut, taking deep breaths, before you dared to open your eyes again.

"Where are we going, Fred?" You asked, your arms tight around his torso, trying to force away your fear of heights as you looked down, Hogwarts only a fraction of its actual size.

"On a date!" He replied confidently. Your eyes shot up, wider than ever, looking at the back of his head, his locks getting messy in the wind.

"On a date?" You squeaked in surprise as you involuntarily started letting go of his torso. He quickly got hold of you, placing your arms back around him.

"Keep a firm hold, darling." He chuckled playfully. "And yes, on a date indeed."

"Shouldn't you have asked me first?" You replied quickly, not wanting to give away the happiness in your voice, although you could swear he felt your heartbeat against his back as you held onto him firmly.

"I'm not clueless, love. I see the way you look at me, I see how you react when I touch you." He let out a barking laughter. You felt a blush creep up on your face, your mouth agape, leaving you with no words.

You could just about see a secluded area at the Black lake, a blanket laid across the grass, a basket sitting in its corner.

Fred lowered the broom, until you could feel your feet on the ground. You got off, letting go of Fred's upper body, feeling your legs slightly wobbly as your fear started leaving you. You weren't feeling bad, you weren't terrified of heights, but you were certainly uncomfortable with them.

You walked over to the blanket, looking down on it, feeling Fred's gaze on the back of your head. You crouched down beside the basket, looking into it, studying its content. There were mini muffins and mini doughnuts in a little box, a few slices of cake, a couple of fruits and a bottle of butterbeer with 2 glasses beside it.

"I can't decide if you are trying to make me fat or drunk, Mr. Weasley." You stood up with a grin on your lips, crossing your arms in front of your chest, raising a questioning brow, trying to shoo away your nervousness with humour.

"I didn't have any of those intentions at all, love." He chuckled as he stepped closer and got hold of your waist, your eyes involuntarily meeting his. "Although I wouldn't mind you putting on a few more pounds." He squeezed your side playfully. Your eyes widened, your lips parted as you sucked in the air. You hit his arm in the form of a reply, not knowing how to answer to that, but your smile didn't falter.

You removed his hands from your waist and sat down on the blanket, letting him pour you from the bottle of butterbeer and offering you the drink. He took a seat beside you, clinking his glass with yours.

"Why did you bring me on a date?" You asked, hoping straightforwardness to give you some well needed answers.

"Why does one take another on a date, love? Definitely not to play chess." He grinned, making you roll your eyes.

"That's not an answer." You pointed out, taking a sip of your drink.

"Obviously, because I fancy you." He replied confidently, making you cough as your drink went down the wrong pipe.

"Excuse me?" Your eyes widened at his words. You felt your face heat up under his intense gaze. "You never showed it, Fred. You always said I was your best friend." You tried to think logically, not wanting to believe his words.

"You are my best friend. Of course I would say that." He scooted closer, his body right next to yours. "But I was very obvious about how I've been feeling about you and you were just blind to it. George made fun of it on a daily basis even before I told him." He chuckled at your dumbfounded expression.

"I didn't... realise it." You frowned.

"Yes, I know. I couldn't be any more obvious and you were still oblivious towards my feelings. At times it was really frustrating." He scoffed. "I, however, saw the way you looked at me, how you reacted when I touched you, how you tried to turn the awkward situations into jokes. You have been even more obvious than I was." He laughed lightly, cupping your cheek with one of his big hands.

You couldn't ignore the proximity between you, your eyes wandering down to his mouth as his tongue darted out, wetting his lips. You looked up, searching for his eyes, watching as his brown irises fixed on your parted lips, before closing the distance between you.

You felt little butterflies tickling your tummy, the feeling intensifying as you kissed back. His lips were something that you have been craving to feel on yours, on occasions forgetting your eyes on them, daydreaming about what they could do to you.

And here you were, with those beautiful lips fighting against yours for dominance, making you silently moan into the kiss, feeling Fred's grin appear, before he deepened the kiss, his hand wandering down to your waist, pulling you closer. It was too much for you at once and oxygen was well needed. You parted, heaving a sigh, but you didn't back away. Your eyes remained closed, you were still under the effects of his kiss.

"It was worth the wait." Your eyes shot up as he laughed and laid down on the blanket, pulling you with him. You followed his movements and placed your head on his chest, enjoying the sound of his quick heartbeats.

"Were you nervous?" You asked as you listened to the irregular rhythm.

"I knew you liked me, but I couldn't be completely calm about it. If anything it made me even more nervous." He confessed, making you chuckle.

"Well, Fred Weasley, I fancy you, so you don't have to be nervous." You looked up at him as he watched your happy form with a big grin across his face.

"Oh sweetheart, I will always be nervous. I will be nervous about making you happy, I will be nervous about surprising you, I will be nervous about second guessing myself, I will be nervous about doing anything in my power to keep you close to me. It's not a bad nervousness though. It's more like I am excited." He explained and you let a cheerful smile spread around your face. You pushed yourself up and kissed him again, feeling his arm wrap around your waist as he pulled you closer.

"I am definitely excited. The big Fred Weasley is mine now." You chuckled as he ruffled your hair playfully.

"And you are telling me that I can't be serious." He scolded you with a humorous tone.

"I am serious. I'm excited about you being mine." You replied with a sweet smile.

"So am I." He pulled you back onto his chest, hinting a small kiss on the top of your head, making you feel content in his embrace.

Taglist: @inkhearthes @bonziandfonzi @hufflefluff-writer @fific7 @haphazardhufflepuff @obsessedwithrandomthings @kalimagik @accio-rogers @pcseidcnsvoid @harrypotter289 @nebulablakemurphy @firewhisky-kisses @iliveiloveiwrite @mytreec @chaoticgirl04 @idont-knowrn @mayaaa-l @imboredandneedalife @pregnant-piggy @prongsies @iamobscuring @nhcwdw

Notes: If you enjoyed it, don’t forget to like and/or reblog the chapter. Thank you :)

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scandinavian-girl · 2 years

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December 12th: “You spend how much on decorations?!”

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader (she/they pronounces)

Warnings: none.

Word count: 608

A/N: the GIF has nothing to do with the fic other than the name Sugar Plum

Today you and Spencer decided to go around town in D.C.

It was a cold day but with large jackets, gloves, scarves and each other, it was okay. The warmth from each other was enough to keep your bodies warm for the evening.

You and Spencer were walking through one of the many parks of D.C. to look at the Christmas lights and to hopefully get a cup of hot chocolate or coffee somewhere.

It wasn’t long until you noticed a person who sold small decorations to put on a christmas tree and you just knew you wanted to get some.

“Spence, can we go see what he sells over there?” you asked and pointed to the guy at the stand with decorations.

“How much have you spent on christmas decorations since you moved away from home ‘till now?” Spencer asked before letting you go over to look at the decorations.

“Uhm..” you thought for a moment. “Well.. last year i tried to calculate and it was around 750 dollars..” you confessed, already knowing his reaction.

“You spent HOW MUCH on decorations?! 750 dollars?!” he looked at you with a surprised expression on his face.

You nodded. “750 dollars.”

“The average American household spends about 390 dollars a month on groceries alone. You have used almost the double, just on decorations alone.” he sounded concerned.

“Relax Spencer.” You giggled at him. “Remember it’s only 750 dollars over the time of like 8 years. That’s-“

“That’s about 94 dollars each year I’ve spent on average. But that hanging sparkly ballerina is really pretty and would look amazing on our tree.” You begged him.

“Okay fine.” He finally gave in with a laugh. “But on one condition.”

“What?” You asked with big begging eyes.

“Give me a kiss.” He smiled.

You giggled at him. Not long after you leaned up to give him a peck on the lips. He slowly leaned down and met your lips half way.

The kiss only lasted for about a few seconds before he pulled away.

“Go get your ballerina.” Spencer smiled at you.

You smiled widely at him and ran over to get the sparkly ballerina.

—

Back at home you couldn’t help but stare and look intensely at your ballerina. She was so pretty and perfect.

“Didn’t you dance ballet when you were young too?” Spencer asked as he sat down beside you.

“I did for a few years when I was about 10 years old and stopped when I got my injury at 16. But I’m still really obsessed with ballet.” You said as you kept looking at the sculptured ballerina.

“My ballerina.” Spencer smiled and kissed your warm flustered cheek. He then placed his warm hand on your thigh.

“Weren’t I your ice skating princess not too long ago?” You asked with a smile, finally making eye contact with him.

“You are. But now it feels more fitting with both ice skating princess and sugar plum. I know the name ‘Sugar Plum’ is from the German writer, E.T.A. Hoffmann, where the music is from the famous composer Tjajkovski.” He said without taking a break to breathe.

“Spencer. I know those things.” you giggled at him.

“Oh, right.” he smiled and blushed.

“Do we still have pickles?” you asked and put your ballerina down.

“We do. In the cabinet.” Spencer answered and pointed towards the cabinet they were in.

You smiled excitedly and got up to grab them.

“Pickles..” he said with a quiet voice.

Spencer couldn’t figure out why you craved those pickles. Even though he was considered a genius, he had a hard time solving this case.

#spencer reid #Spencer Reid fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #blurb #criminal minds fic

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ayatosmlktea · 3 years

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Fluffcember Day 7 | Dazai

Pairing: Dazai x reader Prompt: Mistletoe Words: 1.1k Tags: @hoekaashi @bakugoustanaccount A/N: I love how these were supposed to be 500ish word drabbles...

<< Previous day Next day >>

You had learned very quickly after starting to work at the Armed Detective Agency that the most bothersome part of the job was not dealing with the mafia or petty crimes. It was Dazai. The moment he’d laid eyes on you, he’d immediately asked you if you were interested in committing a double suicide with him.

At first you had thought he was joking and laughed it off until you were informed that he was, in fact, very serious. You didn’t know whether to be flattered that you were being called beautiful or insulted that a man you didn’t even know wanted you to kill yourself with him.

Your opinion of Dazai formed very quickly, he was a mystery. His mood shifting from reckless and goofy to detached and cold in a snap.

When you found out that he’d been in the mafia when he was a teen and had left a few years ago it changed the way you looked at him. Part of you craved the need to get past his mask and find out just who he really was and a part of you just wanted him. You were drawn to him, something you would not be caught dead uttering out loud but you couldn’t deny the pull of attraction you felt towards him.

It didn’t help that Dazai seemed to make it his mission to fluster you whenever possible, something you constantly brushed off. The endless flirting you rationalized as him just messing with you happened on a daily basis. There were times you let your mind wander to thoughts of what it would be like if he actually was interested in you. You had gotten lost in daydreaming about what it would feel like to have him look at you like you were his reason for living more often than you wanted to admit.

It didn’t help that as soon as December hit he’d started carrying around mistletoe, holding it over his head and teasingly telling you to come stand under it with him. Brushing him off with a scoff and some witty comment you always ignored his advances with a cool attitude despite feeling like your heart was racing so fast it might explode.

You’d seen the way he pulled the same thing on every other girl he found attractive and more often than not you found yourself obsessing over every little thing he said to you. Every time he playfully wrapped his arm around your shoulders you ignored the butterflies in your stomach, every time he called you beautiful you resisted the urge to succumb to his charm.

You refused to let yourself fall for a man you knew nothing about, who probably didn’t think about you half as much as you did him and most definitely didn’t consider you to be anything more than a colleague.

It didn’t matter how much you tried avoiding Dazai and distancing yourself from him, he was somehow always there. Picking up on the smallest indicators that your mood was sour and doing something that put a smile on your face. It was almost creepy how he showed up out of nowhere; whenever you were out on missions, grocery shopping, or walking your dog.

Always holding up that stupid branch of mistletoe. It felt like slow torture, having somethig you wanted being literally dangled in front of your face while he had no idea of the way you felt about him.

Eventually you grew tired of his teasing, convinced that he was making fun of you. You were working late at the agency, time had escaped you and before you knew it it was well past midnight. Your lower back ached and your eyes were beginning to blur so you figured it was a good time to call it a night.

Shutting down your computer you nearly jump out of your skin when you notice Dazai leaning against the doorway.

“What the hell are you doing, that scared the shit out of me!” You exclaim, holding a hand over your heart.

“Someone’s a little jumpy tonight, could it be because you were thinking about me?” You don’t need to look at him to know he’s wearing the smuggest smirk on his lips and you hate that he’s right.

“Absolutely not” you scoff, pulling your bag over your shoulder and pushing your way past him only to have Dazai stop you. His eyes look upwards and you follow his gaze, audibly groaning at the sight of that stupid plant hanging in the doorway.

“What is with you and carrying that around? I’m sure you have plenty of ‘beautiful women’ lining up to kiss you” At this point you don’t even try hiding the snark in your comment, not meeting his eyes out of fear for what you’ll find.

“Maybe, but I don’t want to kiss any other beautiful woman except the one standing in front of me” the silence that follows his words is so loud it’s deafening. You can hear the blood roaring in your ears and your heart beating out of your chest.

“Shut up, you’re just saying that” you mutter under your breath, not letting yourself believe that he’s telling the truth.

“I’m serious, this is the only way I figured you would kiss me” Taking a deep breath you finally meet his soft chocolate brown eyes, his gaze is so intensely focused on you that it makes your breath hitch in your throat.

“Well why didn’t you just ask me out if you wanted me to kiss you?” Dazai watches as you bite your bottom lip in the cutest way he’s ever seen and finds himself more tempted than ever to just kiss you right there.

“I didn’t think you’d say yes! You’re always treating me like you hate me, it hurts my feelings” he pouts dramatically making you roll your eyes.

“Well I thought you were just making fun of me” you confess, averting your gaze once again. Dazai’s eyes soften as he takes in your demeanour, clearly flustered and hating how honest you were being with him. Cupping your cheeks in both hands he brings his face mere centimeters from yours.

“Can I kiss you, y/n?” Convinced that you’re dreaming you nod, internally screaming when his lips press against yours. They’re softer than you imagined, he’s softer than you imagined. Tilting his head to the side his lips melt against yours in a way that feels like they were meant to fit together. Your head is swimming and you can’t form coherent thoughts. Dazai pulls back, licking his lips with a satisfied smile.

“Even better than I thought”

“Stop saying things like that or I’ll actually start believing you like me”

“That’s the whole point!” he winks at you and for once you’re grateful for the mistletoe as you pull him back down for another kiss.

#dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai x y/n #dazai Osamu x reader #dazai osamu x you #dazai osamu x y/n #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x you #bungou stray dogs x y/n #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bsd x y/n #dazai imagines #dazai scenarios #bsd imagines #bsd scenarios

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indigobackfire · 3 years

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HPHM MC Profile ✧

Indigo Silverwood

“ Getting near you is like stretching my hand into an open flame. I know I’ll burn myself, yet I crave the heat. ”

Nicknames: Indie. Didi (only by family). Silverwood. Silvie (by people who don't bother learning her name).

Gender: Female.

Birthday: 6th of March, 1973.

Born: Edinburgh, Scotland.

Mother: Clarin (née Tramer) Silverwood - Half-blood, Ravenclaw, English.

Father: Palmer Silverwood - Pureblood, Slytherin, Scottish.

Siblings: Jacob Silverwood (b. 1968), Phoenix Nobleworth Silverwood (b. 1973) - Phoenix was adopted after the death of his parents when he was just a couple of months old.

Ethnicity: Scottish, English, (probably with some Spanish roots).

Sexuality: Straight.

MBTI Type: ENFP-A

Blood Status: Half-blood (by her muggle grandmother on her mother's side).

Hogwarts House: Gryffindor.

Appearance

Eyes: Naturally yellow/golden/amber (nobody knows why, since their parent’s eyes are brown) but both hers and Jacob's eyes are like this). She wears glasses for her Astigmatism.

Hair: Naturally dark brown, but she asked her mother to turn it red when she turned 8 and doesn't plan on undoing it any soon.

• She’s average tall and reasonably strong build, honey-brown skin littered with scars from venturing with the vaults and being freaking attacked by dark wizards, big hands and feet due to her height. A large chest that grows at once in her 4th year (”Everybody's starring, Rowan!”).

• She keeps her nails short. Her makeup is often down to just some lipstick (mascara smudges her glasses, eye shadow irritates her eyes), her hair is often long wavy and fluffed for extra volume. She often smells like coconut oil from all the creams her mother insisted she used.

• She looks a lot like her father which gives her a rather rough look - like a handsome but wild animal - yet has enough of her mother’s attributes to be considered attractive and poise if well-groomed.

Magical Aspects

1st Wand: Red Oak wood with Dragon Heartstring core, 12″, pliable. "The true match for a red oak wand is possessed of unusually fast reactions, making it a perfect dueling wand. Its ideal master is light of touch, quick-witted and adaptable, often the creator of distinctive spells, and a good person to have beside in a fight." Indigo had good times with her red oak wand but as the years went by, her emotions start affecting the wand's efficiency. The wand would bleed a glowing red light in moments of extreme physical or emotional pain and become extremely unstable.

2nd Wand: Beechwood with Thestral hair core, 13", rigid flexibility. "The true match for a beech wand will be, if young, wise beyond their years, and if full-grown, rich in understanding and experience. Beech wands perform very weakly for the narrow-minded and intolerant. When properly matched, the beech wand is capable of a subtlety and artistry rarely seen in any other wood, hence its lustrous reputation." Indigo has a hard time adapting to her new wand, it's stubborn to her spells and acts upon its own will especially considering its unusual and unstable core, Thestral hair, which is of unknown habilities, except for its use in the mythical, Elder wand. Her wand is one of a kind which is why she has to adapt her abilities to match the wand's requirements. Despite all, it's a remarkable instrument for undoing curses/spells and detecting danger.

Animagus: Somali cat. She's already certain she wants to be a cat animagus - harmless, of easy blend, and enables an approach to humans -, but decides for the Somali breed, during the process, for its sumptuous golden fur and agility.

Patronus: Kangaroo, for its fighting spirit and family values, not to mention its strength. (In-game it's the Abraxan, but only because I thought it would be cool.)

Patronus memory: (During the first times) Her first Quidditch match, not just because they won but because everyone she loves from Hogwarts was there, and she got to cheer their victory together. (Later years) Her family gathering for hot cocoa during a rainy night with Jacob with them.

Abilities: Legilimency, and great emotional influence over magic (Don't get her frightened or angry or she will blow you up).

Boggart: Her boggart changes constantly - she can't decide if it's either because she overcame the old fears, or if the new ones toppled those, creating a pile of fears. And since the new DADA teacher is always teaching Riddikulus again and again, the famous curse-breaker is always the most awaited in the line.

Jacob, eyes dark and musty, clothes covered in blood, someone's blood. He walks to her and slowly raises his sleeve, the Death mark is craved deep in his flesh and it glows. Behind him, it rises the Dark Lord.

Riddikulus: He turns into a younger version of himself from a photograph she recalls laughing about with her mom (he's running wearing a loaded diaper, crazy hair, rosy cheeks).

For a while is someone in a cloak threatening to cast the killing curse over her friends, whispering each of their names like a snake but she's frozen unable to stop them.

Riddikulus: The cloak falls to reveal a bunch of gnomes piled up wearing wigs and makeup.

For another, very realistic corpses of all of her friends spread at her feet, a dark wizard across from her, it's over and there isn't anything she can do to save them anymore - it was a grim day in DADA, but they all wanted to see it didn't they?

Riddikulus: This is the one time she fails to defeat a boggart, letting the horrible scene consume her, she falls to her knees defeated, and even after Rakepick's shouting, when she tries to cast the spell, it fails again and again.

This last boggart came to show everyone around her how truly terrified she was, not for her own life, but for that of those around her. How despite the confidence she was constantly displaying, in reality, she was afraid she couldn't save them from whatever was trying to get her.

Amortentia: Her Amortentia smells like Jacob's cologne — which he used to borrow from their father which is why she recalls so easily —, fresh Catnip ever since she became an animagus, bakings just out of the oven — extra intensity if there's chocolate involved, and freshly washed sweaters (from hugging Barney and the Weasleys).

Mirror of Erised: She's under the shadow of a tree, Jacob on one side along with Phoenix and Aspen, Barnaby's head resting on her lap, Rowan by her side, and Orion for some reason. They're laughing and reading books, it's an eternal spring afternoon.

Miscellaneous

Pets: A Sphynx cat, Mocca, a brown and white rat, Franccesca, and (later in her Hogwarts years) a Great Horned owlet, Plum.

Things she always carries with her: Her wand (duh), a handmade Gryffindor bracelet that used to belong to Jacob, the Handbook of Magical Theory, a handful of peppermints, a pouch with some money, a flask of Wideye potion, some Murtlap Essence, and a family photo during Christmas of 1980.

Lucky Amulets: She has a dream catcher made by Phoenix from feathers he shed during transformations and a "broken" knight from Murphy's chessboard who decided to leave the game for good and now sleeps on Indigo's nightstand with its horse, she likes stroking the horse the night before every Quidditch match

Best Friends

Her brother, Phoenix, takes the crown in matter of importance because, well, they're siblings who grew up practically like twins, but their relationship deserves their own detailing.

Rowan has got to be the first. Not only they share the same adventurous nerdy spirit, but Rowan also is the one to stick around even when everything is dark and uncertain and Indigo's popularity plummets. Indigo is always excited to hear whatever Rowan has to say - most times about books or Bill Weasley - and she's rarely fazed by the weird things Rowan does.

Murphy McNully is a close second, having officially met in the middle of her second year, they're both still fresh in a matter of friendships which allows them to open up, both in desperate need of company and support. He's often a companion in the girl's library and common room study sessions and sits with them during meals.

Charlie Weasley has her heart and soul from the moment they first speak during year one, but it actually takes a while until they form any real bond, which begins after he finds out she has been seeking his brother's help to search for the cursed vaults.

Ben is a friend she cherishes deeply but often finds it hard to break through his protective shell which makes him feel distant even when he opens up to her. Unlike her friends, she grows more liking towards Ben after he has his change in personality, as he feels more open about himself.

Chiara is a friend she deeply appreciates for her courage in reaching out for her help in times of need and trusting her with her secret. In Marauder fashion, she likes keeping an eye on her on the nights of full moon - which is good to train her cat tree climbing. They often have afternoon tea together and she teaches Indigo useful healing spells.

Andre and Indigo didn't have a great start, as she thought of him as arrogant and inconsiderate, and he thought she was careless and selfish. But when she helps him with a transfiguration mishap during their 3rd year when he was trying to be creative - and the reason he now has a two-headed cat - they start opening up to each other and begin a friendship. He's a good friend to confide in about the mundane aspects of her life and Quidditch intrigues.

Orion means to her more than she can put into words. Not only he is her team captain, but also a dear friend whom she turns to in times of emotional instability cause she knows he'll be the one to successfully help her clear her mind. They enjoy each other's company even if they don't have anything interesting to say. They sit together during every Divination class for as long as the subject goes.

She has no "rivals" as she finds that sort of labeling quite petty, but would definitely punch Emily Tyler on the stomach and perhaps Face Paint kid for all his eavesdropping.

She has an easier time bonding with her fellow Gryffindors since they spend most of their time together in classes, lunch, and hanging around in the common room.

Dormmates: She and Rowan got placed in a room for three people, as the ones for five were already full, along with a girl called Tanya. But at the beginning of their 4th year, they find out she has bailed out to another dorm room claiming they 1. Snort and speak in their sleep on a regular basis, 2. Will eventually endanger her with their cursed vault shenanigans, 3. Will get her killed - which, spoilers, actually happens, oops. So they basically have the dorm for themselves.

Academics

Favorite Classes:

Potions

Flying

DADA

Magical Theory

Least Favorite:

Transfiguration

History of Magic

Arithmancy

Favorite Professor: Kettleburn. Despite CoMC not being on her top favorite subjects, she enjoys her time in his classes and reminds her of her grandfather on her father's side who's a highlander wizard.

Least Favorite: Binns. Just retire you old man!

Quidditch Position: Chaser. Despite enjoying her time as Gryffindor's beater, she notices the position takes a toll on her physical wellbeing, having to carry a heavy bat and being injured by bludgers more times than she can keep track of. So she returns to her chaser position after a year.

Favorite Team: Montrose Magpies. She never had an interest in Quidditch before she began playing but decided to pick a team to support. Of course, it had to be a Scottish team and settles for MM because of professor McGonagall who's also a supporter.

She's not indigo's face claim, but it's hard to find good red-haired characters out there.

I guess I'll leave her background and history for another post since it interweaves very tightly with her sibling. And since I'm still exploring her story.

Well this is just an intro to my beloved MC

#hphm #hphm mc #hogwats mystery #oc profile #gryffindor #indigo silverwood

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detectivehannibal · 4 years

Text

Homemade

Hannibal Lecter x Fem. Reader

Warnings: Implications of cannibalism.

Requested by: @chuuulip

Word count: 1,422

“I already feel bad enough about it so I’d really appreciate it if you wouldn’t lecture me about it.”

Pregnancy could be described as many things. Life changing, transformative, beautiful, natural (just to name a few). In a general sense, it is glorified and glamorized in every which way. To an extent, yes, being pregnant was all of those things. You were surely enjoying your time, but unfortunately, many women don’t get to see the other side of the coin until they’re in the middle of it themselves. The “morning” sickness that hits at every moment of the day, the fatigue, the swollen feet, and the intense hormonal changes that can shake you to your core. Your first trimester was a sick fest. The bathroom quickly became your most used room of the house and the toilet was your BFF. The mood swings were SO real. Which is why you were thankful Hannibal was a patient man, because God knows you would’ve been fed up already if the roles were reversed.

One of the most common and notorious pregnancy symptoms is the ungodly craving for things that should never ever be consumed into the human body. 70% of women in the United States have food cravings as their main symptom of being pregnant. You were no exception. This was a challenge, considering your dear Dr. Lecter was a health freak and was particular of what went into his body. If he couldn’t name every single solitary ingredient in the food he was presented with, he was not going to eat it. This was fine by you. It encouraged you to make healthier choices and overall improve your lifestyle. Although, now it was a real tug-of-war because you just wanted all the guilty pleasures at your disposal.

So, how did you approach this issue? It was simple. After months of fighting it, you surrendered...shamefully. You went to the store and absolutely raided the bakery section. You name it and you had bought it. You sprawled everything out on the kitchen counter when you got home. This was a secret mission of sorts. You had to indulge and then dispose of all evidence before Hannibal got home. Even though you felt a teeny bit guilty for giving into your cravings, it was kind of nice to be just a little bad. That’s what you told yourself anyway. You were calm and content, just selecting a delicious chocolate donut when you heard the front door open and close again.

Uh-oh. The man in question had just arrived.

You froze in your tracks. Just HOW were you going to talk yourself out of this one? Short answer: you couldn’t. You had been caught red handed. It felt like an eternity, but his footsteps finally fell into the room where he himself stopped upon noticing the scene taking place in his kitchen of culinary excellence. He set his bag down against the wall connecting to the doorway. He didn’t say anything, waiting to see if you were going to explain or if he would have to address it himself. Finally, you sheepishly smiled and gave a light greeting;

“Hi, Hanni.” You said in an innocent tone, delicately waving at him.

He put his hands on his hips and straightened up more than he already was. Oh, boy. Here it comes. Before anything could come out of his mouth, you were quick to confess;

“I’m sorry. Okay? I just couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t keep ignoring the fact that I want to eat literally anything and everything that I’m not supposed to have,” You spewed; “I already feel bad enough about it so I’d really appreciate it if you wouldn’t lecture me about it.”

What you didn’t realize was that he found this rather funny. He had seen you struggle throughout the entire pregnancy and he knew it was only a matter of time before something like this happened. He walked over to the other side of the counter and took a moment to let his eyes gaze over everything that you had picked up. A sugary array of cookies, cupcakes, and donuts were definitely not a common occurrence in his home. You had really outdone yourself. He came around the counter to where you were once he had familiarized himself. He rested his hands on either side of your risen belly, rubbing softly;

“I won’t lecture you,” He said plucking the half eaten donut from your hands; “However, I feel that it’s necessary to remind you that I will make you anything you want. Even if it’s not something that I would usually cook. You know I’m careful of what items I put on our table.”

Before you could stop it, one of your hormone induced snappy responses fell from your lips. One so surprising that even you felt your heart skip a beat when you said it;

“Yeah, trust me, I know what sort of things you put on our table.”

Even he didn’t respond right away. Your eyes widened upon mentioning the very thing you tried not to bring up. It was sort of an unspoken thing. You knew what sort of...activities he took part in. He had originally never planned on telling you, but he found it difficult not to when you got married. It was now your house too, so he couldn’t forbid you from the kitchen when he was cooking like he did when you were dating.

“Sorry,” You mumbled an apology; “That was out of line.”

He only smirked, not shaken by it. He turned to grab his apron and tied it around his waist. It was time for him to get busy.

“I care deeply about your health as well as our child’s. You know that. I’m going to make you something. A guilt-free guilty pleasure, if you will.” He stated proudly.

You liked the sound of that. You nodded eagerly, suddenly excited. He did request that you leave the kitchen to keep it a surprise. You highly doubted any of his specialty ingredients would make it into whatever he was making so you obliged. You sat in the living room while he worked in the kitchen.

It had been a long, long, long time since he had made anything like this. He wasn’t necessarily a baker as much as a chef. He laid out the flour, butter, sugar, yeast, and whatever else he needed to make donuts. He dug through his collection of recipes and (low and behold) he had one single donut recipe. Thank God because he didn’t have a back up plan. You were much more simple when it came to food, so it wouldn’t take much to impress. Still, he wanted to make it special.

After preparing the dough, letting it rise, shaping it, and frying it, he had a half dozen of donuts in all their glory. Of course, he knew a chocolate glaze would be a winner in your book. He sifted the sugar and cocoa powder expertly before combining it with the milk and vanilla extract, creating a thick (but too thick) glaze for the donuts. Even he would admit, they looked SO good. As if on cue, you popped your head into the kitchen to check on him. Your eyes practically bugged out of your head at seeing the six donuts perfectly presented on the counter.

You waddled over, marveling at their divine presentation. He encouraged you to take one, which you didn’t hesitate to do. The first bite was absolute bliss. It was so light, airy, and sweet. You almost wished you could be pregnant all the time just so he could make more stuff like this.

“What’s the verdict, darling?” He asked, knowing good and well you were having the time of your life right now.

You didn’t even respond with words. Just a satisfied groan and a kiss on the cheek. This was a home run for you and bonus husband points for Hannibal.

“Aren’t you going to eat one?” You asked cocking your head.

“I made these for you, my dear.” He replied shaking his head.

You furrowed your brows;

“There’s NO way I can eat all of these. Come on, don’t you want to judge your own skills?” You asked taking the last bite.

He pondered your question before shrugging and taking one himself. He took a bite and his eyes rolled back slightly. He had really done it this time.

“I told you,” You muttered with a smile; “Thanks, honey.”

“Anything for you.” He said kissing your head.

It was the small moments like this that reminded you of how wonderful he was. He was always willing to do anything for you. No matter the task.

And to you, that was really very sweet.

#hannibal lecter #hannibal nbc #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal x reader #hannibal #hannibal lecter imagine #detectivehannibal #hannibal lecter request

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nahimjustfeelingit-writes · 4 years

Note

Imagine: Erik always rubbing the readers belly, because she loves it more than she does.

Warnings: Smut, Fluff, Plus Size/Curvy Reader, Breeding Kink.

This is a short Imagine. Enjoy!

Y/N hated her belly. She felt like she couldn’t be sexy in anything skin tight and that included lingerie. Since she was so self conscious about it, Y/N always wore her tops oversized or she would wear flannels and cardigans. Still to this day, Y/N couldn’t understand why her boyfriend, Erik, loved her belly so damn much. When he first approached her at a bar and grill while she was out with friends, she thought he was pulling a prank on her. No man that fine would dare to ask her out with her size.

Her friends and family stayed on her ass whenever she talked like that. One asshole from her past made her believe that she was unlovable and disgusting. There were times where she felt beautiful though. Those times included when she got her hair and makeup done or when she wore a particular outfit that hugged her curves in a way that made her feel sexy for once. This Erik guy… her new man, expressed how much he would love to make her his girl through texts, over the phone, and in person. Always overly touchy, always freaky and vocal about how much he loved her big thighs and rolls.

“More for me to nibble on,” He would say.

It took her at least a month to finally consider having sex with him. When she decided to give her body to Erik she pulled out a gift bag from him in the back of her closet that contained lingerie, handcuffs, a vibrator that he could control when he was away, and a dildo that is the exact mold of his big dick. She dressed in the red teddy that was completely see-through, showing off her big areolas, dimpled fat ass, juicy thighs, and beautiful broad belly.

The minute Erik saw her dressed up in the lingerie he spent his money on, her nipples out and hard, pussy sitting fat, ass wide and ready to be spanked, he gave her one warning, and that warning was clear for the remainder of the night.

“Oh… you’re about to get it, girl.”

He picked her up, her legs wrapped around his waist, carried her to the bedroom, slammed her down on the bed and with little patience took control of her body in ways she only dreamed of. Moaning, crying, groaning, body exposed, ass in the air, pussy in his mouth, dick in her mouth, voluptuous body glistening from the intense sex, Y/N didn’t complain anymore. Her man’s actions proved to her that she was indeed a sexy woman who’s body deserved to be loved on and fucked. Erik didn’t care about her size. He didn’t care about what society’s “beauty standards” are. When he looked at her, when he touched her, she excited him in ways that words couldn’t begin to express.

Besides his well-hung dick, Y/N also had to get used to their cuddle sessions. Erik has a habit of rubbing Y/N’s belly and squeezing it. When he first did it she was appalled and she pushed his hand away, covering her belly. Now, after getting all that fat dick up in her wet pussy she let Erik do whatever he wanted to her. If he wanted to get between her legs and nibble on her belly, she would let him. That’s what her man is currently doing now. He came over on a rainy Friday night with a fruit salad and a supreme pizza. She said she was craving it so he picked it up on his way. Drenched from head to toe with a Pizza Hut box in his hand and a bag that contained her fruit salad, Erik enters her apartment while Y/N held the door open for him.

“It’s pretty bad out there, baby,” Y/N stood up on her tiptoes to kiss Erik against his soft, full lips, “You shouldn’t drive in this weather.”

“I’m safe, aren’t I?” Erik says while savoring the taste of her lip gloss with a lick of his lips.

“Yeah, but,” Y/N’s words were cut short again when Erik’s lips pressed into hers. They tongue kissed, tasting each other’s mouths and nibbling on each other’s lips.

Y/N broke the kiss, wiping her chin, “Erik I’m serious I don’t want you getting into an accident with that car-“

“Aye, I’m good. I wanted to see you,” Walking away, Y/N gave up worrying over his erratic driving and closed the door to her apartment. Erik was inside of her kitchen grabbing foam plates and two red disposable cups. Y/N joined him inside of her kitchen, standing next to him at her kitchen counter near the stove to watch him pile pizza slices and fruit on both of their plates.

“Yesssss, you got the fruit salad with the kiwis and mangos in it,” Y/N clapped cheerfully.

“Still got some honey?” Erik asks making her smile.

“You know me so well, yeah, it’s in the cabinet next to the fridge…yeah…no, top-shelf babe.”

Erik finds the organic honey, grabbing it from the top shelf and opening the yellow cap to drizzle some on top of her fruit.

“This set up is weird,” She says with a scrunch of her nose.

“I think it’ll be bomb.”

“We’ll see,” Y/N thanks Erik before grabbing her plate and heading towards the living room.

“I’ll be out, girl, let me fill these cups with some liquor.”

“Not too much in mine!” She knew it was Hennessy and she couldn’t drink too much of it because it always made her feel sick when she drank too much.

Erik joined Y/N a minute later, Erik seated on the floor between her legs while Y/N sat on the couch. She actually liked the combination of the supreme pizza with the fruit and honey. Erik even went back for seconds and another full cup of Hennessy. They were both watching Booty Call with Jamie Foxx, laughing and vibing like they always do. His thick fingers started running up the back of her calf and down to her feet. Squirming where she sat, Y/N tries to pay attention to the movie but Erik’s rubbing and groping fought for dominance. Giving in, Y/N raises one of her legs to Erik’s shoulder.

“I can’t watch the movie when you do that, Erik,” Y/N spoke softly.

“And I can’t pay attention to the movie when you smell like you do and feel the way you do…you keep forgetting what you do to me, girl.”

“What could I possibly be doing now that has you so worked up?” Y/N asks, mostly so she could swoon over his response.

“Because you’re deliciously thick and yummy…anything you do turns me on you know that,” Erik looks over his shoulder at Y/N, “You just wanted me to say it.”

“Yeah, I did,” She admits with no shame, “You make me feel good about myself…”

“I want you to know how sexy you are…beautiful all over…I made you open up more when I gave you this dick, now every time you walk past a mirror with those chocolate cakes, heavy breasts, sexy plumpness that I just wanna fucking bite…you’ll see a beautiful, sexy woman. See? I love that smile.”

Y/N grinned from ear to ear with her leering smile.

“So beautiful, girl, always remember that,” Erik turned on his knees, bringing his face closer to hers before taking hold of her bottom lip with his teeth and dragging it into his mouth. Erik kisses with so much ardor. His hand is on Y/N’s chin, both of their heads moving from side to side while he attached her lips. His deep grunts into her mouth caused Y/N to claw the couch. He makes these noises because of how much she turns him on. Her panties surely has a dampened spot by now.

“Delicious, sweet chocolate,” Erik whispers against her lips, “I wanna hold you now…let’s go we’re getting in that bed, ma.”

Y/N knows exactly what that means. She eagerly lifted from the couch, taking the lead while grabbing Erik’s hand to guide him. They walked to her bedroom, Erik switching on the light and closing the door. Y/N was wearing a onesie shorts pajama set with no access to her stomach. Erik takes off his T-shirt and grey sweatpants, completely naked like he’d rather be. He practiced naturism privately. A Naturist who is lascivious and salacious in the best way. She’d never met a man so openly sexual and full of life before. To him, sex is the most fun you can have without laughing.

Laying naked on the bed, hands behind his head and his big black dick nice and solid against his thigh, Erik motioned with a curl of his finger for Y/N to come to him. Without further instruction, Y/N began to undress, the expression on Erik’s face so filled with desire and longing she moaned a little. He stared at her breasts while gnawing on his pouty bottom lip, then his eyes traveled down to her round belly, taking in the beautiful pattern of her stretch marks before landing on her juicy and succulent pussy. Y/N’s pussy is nice and fat and filled with all the wetness in the world. Like a rain puddle, Y/N’s tight, sweet pussy is a home for Erik’s dick and tongue anytime and all the time.

“So inviting,” Erik says with a low tone, “Come here so I can squeeze you.”

Y/N gave Erik a shy smile before crawling in bed with him, turning her back towards him so that her ass rested against his crotch. Erik’s dick is really on hard as it poked her ass. His hand came up and around her body, pressing against her belly to rub it in slow, soothing circles while his tongue slithered up and down her exposed neck. Y/N’s broad hips thrust back against his dick with a bite of her lip while he French kisses from her neck down to her shoulder.

“Damn…juicy looking body,” Erik whispered in her ear, “uhmmmm, is this my breakfast, lunch and dinner, ma? If so I’m ready,” Erik chuckles, causing Y/N to giggle, “a fucking meal…Daddy would love to show you what this tongue and dick can do…I just wanna eat that fat pussy and enjoy your cum all over my face…how’s that sound?”

With his hands rubbing, squeezing, and jiggling all over her stomach, thighs, ass, and titties, Y/N didn’t need convincing. She just wanted Erik to lift up one of her thick legs so he could eat her pussy from the side like he enjoyed so much. Then, she wanted him to hold her legs open wide into a side-to-side split while he fucked her and watched her breasts bounce and sway. He always liked smacking them and mushing them together.

“You are making my fucking mouth water,” He says with his dick nestled between her abundant cheeks.

“Erik,” She moans.

“Yeah, Daddy wants you bad, girl,” Erik pulls Y/N down flat against the bed while he positioned himself between her thighs, “play with your titties…do it.”

Y/N’s hands found her heavy breasts, twirling her nipples and pushing them together with her arms squeezing them. Her large chocolate areolas and nipples held his gaze like a pair of eyes.

“Pudgy pussy looking good good,” Her chocolate pussy looked so lavish covered in her natural fluids made her clit, and inner folds glisten, “Goddamn it’s so plump.”

She shivered when his thumb teased her clit before his hands dragged up her body to her belly. He stared into her eyes with his dilated pupils while he squeezed her belly lovingly. Y/N licked her lips when Erik leaned forward to flick his tongue in her belly button. Grabbing her titties, Y/N watched Erik bite her belly softly and drag his tongue over her stretch marks. She whimpers while moving her big titties around in a circle, mimicking how Erik would do it. His sexy, athletic body with all its hardness against her soft flesh felt amazing, especially with all the sweat from her. At this point he was putting passion marks all over her belly.

“Erik…fuck, you love my body so much,” Y/N moans, “You’re so good to me, Daddy.”

“You are just perfect,” Erik kisses around her belly button before looking up at her from in between her breasts with his beautiful eyes and long lashes.

“I’m so wet for you and you didn’t even fuck me yet…you get me so wet.”

“And you make my dick hard,” Erik lifts to his knees, grabbing one of Y/N’s hands to rest on his dick, “That’s because I want you right fucking now, girl.”

“Fuck me then, Daddy, please,” Y/N stroked his dick while rubbing her thumb across the tip of his dick, “Fuck me and tell me how much you love my pussy and my body…I can’t wait just put your dick deep in me.”

“Goddamn, ma,” Erik grabs his dick from her hand, rubbing her clit with it before sliding his dick into her snug and creamy pussy Y/N stared at his dick with a burning desire. While she fingered her clit, Y/N spreads her thighs even more. She craved his dick. All she wanted and needed was to be fucked. Erik held her thighs back while his big dick spread her tight pussy open. She hissed from his thickness at first but minutes later her warm, wet pussy opened up for him and covered him in her cream. Pussy making sloshing noises while Erik grunted and growled, Y/N twirled her nipples for him.

“You’re so juicy, baby…fuck…Daddy just wants to nibble and suck all over your body…mmm…”

“Yes, Daddy. Ooh-“

“Pussy so wet…keep it so wet for Daddy like a good slut-“

“Fuckkkk, fuck me, fuccccck-“

“I don’t feel sorry for stretching this little pussy I’m getting all this dick up in you…Pretty ass face and phat juicy, pretty, pussy lips-“

“Shit it’s so damn thick-“

“I’ma suck your beautiful pussy when you cum…cum on this fucking dick so I can suck that pussy up-“

“Yess, yes, yes, yes,” Y/N’s fingers shook while she rubbed at her clit. Erik’s thrusts increased with the speed of her fingers to make her cum hard and fast. She stared at him with pining desire before her eyes dragged down to his big fat dick drilling her with a slam of his hips.

“Where’s that fucking cum at? Huh? Give it to me,” He fucked her so hard her belly jiggled with her titties.

“FU-“

“Don’t worry, you ain’t even gotta talk I know what to do with your thick ass,” Erik brought Y/N’s legs back so her toes touched the headboard. In a push-up position, Erik dropped down strong into her pussy with his powerful hips. Y/N clawed his waist, while he stuffed her pussy deeply. Erik wanted to paint her cervix with his cum. With a plentiful body like hers, he wanted to breed her. He’d cum in her pussy so many times already and now he will make it his job to fill her deep pussy up with as much cum as it can hold.

“I’m cumming, you’re pussy is cumming for you, Daddy, you’re fat pussy is cumming! Ahhhh!”

Erik withdrew his dick with speedy delight before his lips caught her sugary filling with a craving close to starvation. Erik slobbered all over Y/N’s juicy twat until the mixture of fluids coated her asshole. She could feel her pussy clench each time he sucked on her clit like he was sucking whipped cream from a strawberry. She couldn’t help herself as she climaxed again on his pointed tongue. He slurped from her honey pot until her legs squeezed his head tightly. Wet face and beard, Erik lifted up, grabbing hold of her titties and with the strength of his hips, he thrusts forward into her fat pussy.

“Good girl, take Daddy’s dick, baby,” Erik leans over her body to suck on her nipples. He slowed down his strokes to a sinuous rhythm with a swivel of his hips. Y/N could feel every vein along his girthy shaft and how thick his tip is brushing directly over her G-spot.

“You look so beautiful taking all this dick. Daddy’s big dick is stuffing this little pussy and I’m filling you up with all my fucking nut since you wanna look at me with those sexy ass eyes…” he couldn’t go slow anymore because it was challenging from how good her tight pussy is.

“Shit, I’m fucking cumming again!” She shouted while slapping her clit, “ohmigoddddddd,” her words came out jumbled.

“Pussy is eating this fucking dick, shit-goddamn,” Erik grunts, “Hmph, I was daydreaming about this shit all fucking day LOOK AT THIS DICK NOW.”

His gruff tone made Y/N shiver as her eyes watched his dick pump her good and full. Using her large titties as leverage, Erik’s hips smacked painfully into her thighs causing her flesh to sting. Every muscle in his body flexed and his face frowned with a hankering to cum deep in her pussy. Y/N held her thighs open wider, using all of her self control to handle his crazy strokes to her pussy until he exploded. He began to swell and pulsate inside of her and Y/N’s nails were digging into the flesh of her thighs.

“Shit, Daddy-“

“Damn! This tight, gripping pussy! you see all that shit?! all this cream on my fucking dick like this? huh?!”

One of Erik’s hands came around Y/N’s head to pull her forward in a crunch position so he could hold his dick nice and deep inside of her pussy with so much force that he was pressed firmly against her cervix. Her ankles shook and her eyes rolled up into her lids. He was cumming so much and he still stroked her pussy. She could see his cum covered dick and she could feel how sloppy it is going in and out of her.

“Shit…I got more nut for you, baby,” He spoke between clenched teeth, “Fuckkkkkkkk, baby, fuckkkkkkk.”

“Umph!! Umph!!! Umph!!” She felt that this time, “THAT’S IT DADDY CUM INSIDE ME. PUMP IT BABY!!!!!!!” Y/N shouted to the ceiling.

“Ahhhhhhhh, FUCK!” Erik buries his face into her neck, fighting for his breath while his hips jerked out of his control. Y/N squeezed him tightly, her hand rubbing the back of his head soothingly.

“It’s okay, Daddy,” Y/N kissed his forehead, “You came so much,” She says with emerging gasps. She could feel him slipping out of her pussy.

Erik pulled in a lung full of air before lifting up to stare into her eyes. He pecked her lips a few times before chuckling softly. Y/N smiled up at him while rubbing sweat from his forehead.

“You see what I mean?” He whispers shallowly from his lungs, “that’s how much I enjoy your body, baby…and it’s all mine to play with,” Erik kisses Y/N with passion and lots of tongue action.

Gasping for air, Y/N pulls back from him, “it’s all yours, Daddy…whenever you want it…just keep fucking me and loving on me the way you do…it drives me crazy.”

@tgigoldie @soufcakmistress @chefjessypooh @chaneajoyyy @pananegra @theblulife @becincere @blaqwidow91 @fish-outta-watah @eyeknowmywrites @crowngold @njadakillthiscookie @blktinkerbell @luvanxi @sheisexcellent1 @chocolatedippedinhoney @brandithecrystalgem @dababydababydababydababy @soulfulbeauty19 @btitannaaa @sunkissedebony97 @youngblackndgifted @harleycativy @rbhp @thee-germanpeach @thadelightfulone @palmstreesallday @skylahb @bakaris-shorty @nizzle-mo @truglori @queenflaws @ljstraightnochaser @theegoldenchild @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @nickidub718 @vikkidc @thehomierobbstark @rent-emspoons @abluesforlyssa @abeautifulmindexposed @fd-writes @chasingsunlight @sickaddiktions @munteanhore @xo-goldengirl @tiava143 @33kiara@honeytoffee @asiasblackworld727 @momobaby227 @informalmelancholy @soulshinechronicles @hearteyes-for-killmonger @goddessofthundathighs @soulfxll @whazzzupmyhitta @seyven89 @lahuttor @janelledarling @shewritestheblues @fanfangal @kreolemami @thoughtsoftheantagonist @luvwitoutlimit1 @mygirlrenee @hippiesandpeacesigns @alittlejd @jaysaidhi @thewaysheis–awkward @walkrightuptothesun @sweetestdream92 @shawnstacksss @theesotericqueen @mareethequeen @browngirldominion @ceeverse @therealmrsrhodes @sensitivelegend @teheeboo @yomiloo @msreshel-blog @bbygirrll05 @fahi0nanart @afteracouplepuffss @shaelyn102 @yaminax-kuss-a @lackbbaby @amyhennessyhouse @thattruckinwitch @ajjiiaaahhh @dameshaemonique @naeelyniecee @glittermakesmesmile @ambthegamer @justgetitoverwith0 @efonteno @notavintagecliche @pariahcolored @cydneyrenee4

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#killmonger smut #killmonger x reader #killmonger fanfiction #killmonger imagine #nahimjustfeelingit-writes

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infernwetrust · 3 years

Text

It’s The Little Things [Duncan Shepherd x Jim Mason]

Summary: Just a little domestic fun between Duncan and Jim through the art of food. Guest starring you and Michael.

Warnings: mentions of drug use, just fluff really, swearing

WC: 1.5k

A/N: This was long fucking over due as are many other things that I’m currently working on. I need to work more on my soft side lol. Part of my little Duncan x Jim series that can be found on my master list, here. Thank you for reading! -Juno

GIF by witch

"Don't you fucking do it, Michael." Jim said, gripping the Nintendo switch controller with force. But Michael was already doing it. He threw the infamous blue shell Jim's way, it quickly catching up to him in first place, Michael trailing behind in 2nd. Poor fool, however, too close to Jim, is affected by the blast too, giving you the 1st place advantage and win.

"Fucking idiots." you stated, simply.

"Bullshit." Michael said, reaching for the last bacon-wrapped jalapeño popper off the plate in front of them, but Jim had also reached for it too. It was routine. You and Michael would come over every other Sunday for dinner, usually Jim's cleaning day. And while either Duncan or Jim cooked, games were played, drinks made.

"Let it go." Jim said, challenging Michael with his eyes. "You literally just ate one."

"And you ate the more than half of the plate." he said back. "So you let go."

"I grabbed it first." Jim began to pull it towards him, not caring if his fingers were getting messy.

"Oh fuck off." Michael pulled it back towards him and now the boys were pulling with a force, but not too much, not wanting to snap it in half. Could you blame them for their childishness though? At first glance, Duncan didn't seem like the type to be the master in the kitchen, but he sure was. Wanting to give Jim a break because he's literally been cleaning all day, Duncan offered to cook. Jim's favorite was Duncan's grilled cheese. 7 different types of cheese, turkey, ham, lettuce, and a killer salsa for a fresh taste, it was basically a heart attack on bread, but Jim fucking loved it.

The two were snapped out of their intense gaze when you walked over, snatching it from between their fingers and popping it in your mouth before plopping back down on the couch adjacent to the one Michael and Jim sat on. You returned to whatever you were doing on your phone as if nothing happened, running your tongue over your top set of teeth.

"Problem solved now, yes boys?" you questioned, not pulling your eyes away from your phone. "Maybe you should see if chef Shepherd will give up some more." Michael reached for the plate, but Jim snatched it away from his hand, wanting to be the one that goes into the kitchen to bother Duncan.

In the kitchen, stood Duncan in one of Jim's t-shirts and a pair of sweatpants that hung a little bit off his waist. He scanned quickly over his cookbook, one that he put together himself to save all of his favorite recipes. Really, it was Jim who brought out the inner chef in Duncan. He cooked for Duncan nonstop. By the time Duncan had his eyes open for work at 7:00AM, his breakfast was already on the table with his morning coffee. Jim more than had the opportunity to sleep in considering he didn't have to be at work until noon, enjoyed cooking for his boyfriend anyways.

He made sure Duncan always had something to take with him to work for lunch. There was always dinner when he got home, whether Jim cooked it or ordered takeout. Duncan wanted to return the favor and slowly he began cooking too, starting with his grilled cheese. Soon enough food was something the two found themselves bonding even closer over.

*** "Hey what are you-," Duncan began. "Jim no! Those are for the office party today!"

"Huh?" Jim said, his mouth full of chocolate chip muffin. He had eaten about 2 of them and they were pretty decent in size. Duncan stayed up late the previous night to make them, waiting until Jim fell asleep for this exact reason. If he wasn't stuffing his face with one of Duncan's grilled cheeses, it was his chocolate chip muffins. Melt in your mouth, they were to DIE for.

"You knew that my office party was today. I made just enough for everyone because I didn't want to be up super late."

"So that's why I was alone in the bed until midnight. M' sorry, Dunc. Should of told me."

"Told you?! These are your favorite, would it have mattered?"

"Probably not." Jim chuckled, licking the remaining melted chocolate chip off his finger. "I'll make it up to you though."

He walked over to Duncan, using one of his hands to hold the back of his neck. He glided his thumb slowly in circles over the exposed skin, Duncan shivering in response.

"How so?" He stepped closer, pushing Jim back against the counter, but shoving his hands in his pocket to maintain his dominance.

"I'll make those cookies that you like so much. Y'know? The butter crunch ones with the-,"

"Chocolate chips and almond pieces." Duncan finished his sentence with a heavy exhale, excited to hear those words.

"And I'll make 3 batches. 2 for you and 1 for your people, yeah?"

*** "Ocean eyes we're not going to have any brownies, pot or regular if you keep sticking your finger in the batter." Duncan sighed, high out of his mind trying to move around their kitchen. Jim was pretty high too, with a bad case of the munchies, having smoked again a few hours after they had dinner. He had already finished the party sized bag of cool ranch Doritos, and now he was craving something sweet.

Jim had decided that he not only wanted to make regular brownies, but he also wanted to make edibles as well. A friend of his had invited them to a pool party and what better way to spice it up than with some special treats?

"Okay, just one more." Jim said, going in for another scoop.

"Share though." Duncan said, only now realizing just how hungry he actually was. Sure, the actual brownies would have been a lot more filling, but they were too far gone now.

"Nuh Uh. You said we have to stop." Jim turned his back to Duncan, bowl clenched against his chest. "So we're stopping."

"Jim if you don't set that damn bowl down on the counter so we can finish it together."

*** Plenty of good memories came from the kitchen. There were many days and nights of whipped and butter cream filled kisses. One too many glasses of wine or one too many shots. On the nights that the boys did bake together, they found themselves often covered in flour or sugar as one of the two had gotten too frisky, leading to an intense make out session on one of the empty counters or the kitchen island.

There were plenty of jokes told, plenty deep conversations had, and a lot of heart to hearts. If Jim wasn't making Duncan laugh until he either drooled on himself or whatever he was drinking shot out of his nose, the two were complimenting and praising each other. They were always curious to know how each other's day went. Whatever the other wanted to talk about, the other was excited to hear about it. Dinner was never dull between the two, even the times they had fought.

*** "Here try this." Duncan said, sliding his plate over to Jim who peered down at his phone. Jim, hungry, gave it no second thoughts, immediately taking a bite.

"Wow this is a fucking, nut." Jim said as the sandwich basically melted in his mouth. "You like comfort food, huh?"

"College will do that to you." Duncan replied, chuckling at Jim's response. "But I'm guessing you like it?"

"Like it? Dunc, this is genius."

"Well, you're always cooking for me and I wanted to return the favor. It isn't much but..."

"I wish you'd stop doing that. Y'know? Like you always tell me. Own it, scruffy." Duncan gave Jim a closed eye smile at the nickname, referring to his facial hair. "You made this. It was your idea and I love it. Stop always trying to down play yourself, right?"

"So you do listen when I talk?" Duncan joked.

"Mmmph." was all Jim got out, his mouth full of grilled cheese.

"Let me cook for you, then." Duncan suddenly said. "Tonight. Take the night off. Let me spoil you?"

"The more you talk, the more I get like this, raging hard on."

Duncan nearly choked on his drink, laughing at what Jim said. Jim was all like that since the very beginning and it only showed more once they finally moved in together. He was always so playful and immature, but he knew when he needed to be serious. More like, he knew when Duncan was serious. Because face it, Jim could play and make jokes all day. However, it brought Duncan peace and higher sense of humor, something that laid dormant in him while he lived in DC.

*** "Can I kiss the chef?" Jim asked as he approached Duncan from behind, gently setting the plate on the island behind him. He licked the remaining cream cheese off of his fingers from his brief struggle with Michael.

"Depends." Duncan answered, looking at Jim over his shoulder. "Are you actually here to kiss the chef or are you here for something else?"

"Both." Jim answered honestly, wrapping his arms around him.

"Well you can only have one thing and it isn't more poppers."

Taglist: @jimmason @angelicmichael @whatcodysaid @9layerdevilfoodcake @xavierplympton @mikhalxngdon @fernfiction @theneverendinghunger

#cody fern #cody fern imagine #jim mason #jim mason imagine #the tribes of palos verdes #duncan shepherd #duncan shepherd imagine #duncan shepherd x Jim mason #house of cards #duncan x jim

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bakuraryxu · 3 years

Text

talking about meds and stuff unsolicited opinions (especially from [redacted] people!!!!) are NOT welcome unless its to tell me how cool i am for doing stuff about my health

like.... its not a magic weight loss drug. its just like.... accelerating everything i already do. watching my diet is still boring but its easier now. i dont feel like im missing out quite so much. its like the obsessive part of my brain doesnt latch onto chocolate and junk food and sweets like it did before where it felt like my throat was cut if i didnt have something yummy right then and there. ive had a block of choccies in the cupboard for a week bc im only eating a few squares every other day because it tastes good. not because i feel like i need it.

exercising is easier too. it used to drain me and leave me more fatigued than usual. i see an exercise physiologist who promised me regular exercise would raise my base level of energy and he was a FUCKING liar. not on purpose or anything, my stupid idiot brain and body just refused to feel anything other than fatigue and trepidation at the thought of working out.

its like the perfect balance between appetite reduction and giving energy. im waking up around 6am and going for walks. its so easy to avoid snacks, a tiny amount of chocolate satisfies me, i havent had any intense cravings ....yet.... and god willing, i wont. its been 6 days and the first couple days i didnt feel anything, just dizzy and lightheaded and cranky. i get to watch the sunrise bc i get up so early. i walk my dog around a busy neighbourhood lake and i socialise with strangers who are also out walking their dogs and its great.

Before my biggest issue was my never-ending appetite. it didnt matter how much i ate, or how well (i see a nutritionist he assured me my nutrition is pretty good), i was constantly hungry. now im not. its not total appetite suppression for me i describe it more like a dampening effect. i get kinda hungry, i go eat a salad or whatever the fuck, and im satisfied for a couple hours. like on god. this is so ALIEN for me. and its great! i still drink coffee but because i like the taste, not because i feel like ill die without the caffeine boost.

this legal speed stuff is insane i totally get why people do meth now like ive thoguht abt it in the past bc the idea of not sleeping for days is so crazy but anyway.

its phentermine not amphetamines but anyway im loving it lmaoooooo like i feel normal. i feel so normal its insane. i can wake up and feel normal and i have energy, not even like. excessive. i just HAVE energy, which i never really had before? the fatigue fucking sucked the life out of me but atm im in a good place like mentally and getting there physically. im sore all over from working out, whcih ive done almost every day this week. im being social. im thriving. im losing weight. hopefully im building lean muscle mass too.

wish i took a before photo. im still extremely overweight but i know im slimming down and i feel great and cute and good looking. to reach a healthy weight i have like. so any kgs to go .... but u know. i dont know how much i believe these ideal weight bmi things, like i just cnanot conceptualise what i would look like if i was that slim??? and i havent weighed that much since i was a child. we’ll see what happens. this week was pretty easy all things considered, i hope i can keep it up.

so far my biggest side effect complaints are cotton mouth and irritability (see gif for example). its not a constant thing but i do think im more aggressive than usual? im ready to start biting people. oh also the insomnia i guess but these three things... could be for any reason. not just the drugs. its impossible to say. im not unfamiliar with dry mouth and trouble sleeping from antidepressants ive taken in the past lol.

#i guess this is the ramblings of a crazy person but really its me enthusing about how great i feel #discussion of weight loss and medication. idk if that triggers any of you people but theres the warning just in case #i have never felt so. neurotypical. lmao #BIGGEST complaint tho is the pharmacist told me id probably get a little high.#bc most peopl who take it get that. i have no hgih. where is my little high. :(#please dont tell me that headrush was it lmao that was awful

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whereflowersbloom · 4 years

Text

Reflections.

I once dreamed of making someone happy. Conner thinks to himself.

It was a simple dream that He almost gave up on. Happiness is intangible, enigmatic. It was a concept difficult for him to grasp. Happiness proved not to be so simple, after all. Simple to think about, sometimes abstract, incredibly hard to reach out for. It was something people looked for their entire life. It’s said even for human its impossible to be completely content without desiring more. He had read somewhere that a joyful life was made up of joyful moments, gracefully strung together by trust, gratitude and inspiration. At times he wondered if he was capable of experiencing happiness. But the question plaguing his mind was; could he make anyone happy? He felt it slipping between his fingers every time he believed he was closer to it. He observed his hand, this hand was created to serve as Lex Luthor’s puppet. Then Clark gave him a new purpose, fight crime, work to bring justice to those who are oppressed, protect them and the world. But this hand longed to holds another. One that belonged to a certain girl he knew well. He had no doubts something was missing from his life and he was desperate to get it. But he couldn’t help but think of that tiny, pale, hand filling him with warmth he never knew he craved for. Until he grabbed hold of it and Conner didn’t want to let go of it.

He felt as if he had no right. And being honest he didn’t. He wasn’t like her. Perhaps he couldn’t express his desires, emotions, transform them into words. Humans also said actions speak louder than words, right? For the first time, being quick to act could prove to be rather convenient in his case.

~~~

Raven stared off into emptiness, deep in thoughts, her brows knitted, as if she was concentrated trying to solve a puzzle. She hadn’t touched her tea. Then Donna decided to speak. “Okay. What’s going on with you today.”

Raven snaps out of it and looks at Donna, realizing she’d been too absorbed in her own world. She sips her tea slowly. It was getting cold. No reason to be mysterious with Donna. She could use her perspective. “Do you have any idea why Conner is acting strange lately?” She asks her Amazonian friend, curious if she had the answer, noticed something she didn’t.

Donna stares at her friend for a couple of minutes, before tipping her head back and letting out a sonorous laugh. “I simply cannot believe this. You know for an empath. You have no idea what’s going on around you.” she says pointedly, raising her left eyebrow, her shoulders still shaking as the giggles subside.

Raven massaged her temples and sighs. “You know I try to set boundaries. I don’t want to invade his personal space or anyone’s.” And it was true. She found a way to let her walls up preventing her from trespassing her teammates emotional property.

“In a tower full of teenagers that must be hard. You have my respect.” Donna replies solemnly.

“Raven, I’m serious. The only reason I found it funny is because, if there’s anything certain in this universe, it’s that Kon-El has a crush on you. I’m pretty sure it was written in the stars by the Gods before he was even created. Look at the poor boy.” Donna explains logically.

“I can’t say I agree with you. We are just friends.” Raven looks away blushing. “Even if it was true. Then why hasn’t he said anything yet?” She battles internally, not sure if she should believe her friend. Donna wasn’t lying though. She knew it.

Donna shrugs lightly, resting her chin on her hand, pondering her next words. “Maybe he has been saying it and you just haven’t been listening.” She places a hand on Raven’s shoulder, sliming at her warmly. “Think about it carefully.” She said those words as she walked out of the room.

Raven doesn’t say anything. Disbelief and curiosity struck her speechless. Her mind races with words she cannot utter. She had to meditate on this.

~~~

They were at the library. It was a lovely, quiet escape from the bustling city. It sat in the middle of Jump City, built in the 80’s after its old incarnation had burned down. She was reading, as usual,she was always reading. Sometimes it’s a history book, sometimes it’s a fiction book. There’s countless topics, genres, so much to learn and study. She makes annotations on a notebook she carries around.

After a few minutes, Raven felt Conner’s gaze on her and realised he had been staring the whole time. She found she didn’t mind, they were friends but it made her feel self-conscious, her cheeks reddened. Conner’s stare felt different from others, it was intense, warm rather than cold, expressing affection, and rather than making her feel on edge, it made her feel safe.

“What are you reading now.?” A curious voice asked her, getting her attention. He looks up at her, just blinking for a few seconds, smiling only the way Conner did, making him look so boyish and mischievous, those dazzling light blue eyes. She cleared her throat, and shook her head, blushing at the thoughts that kept popping into her head. She shows her the pile of books she got, about astronomy, psychology and some romance novels she managed to find. She mentions it’s his turn to show her what he’s reading. He seems embarrassed when he shows her the cover of the book and tells her that it’s poetry. Oh. She did notice he was showing interest in poetry lately.

“Always poetry” she teases him. “They’re not always poetry.” he tells her, as if he has anything to prove, as if she wouldn’t think it’s so very much him. He looks away, slightly blushing, setting his mouth in a pout. Raven giggles, finding his reaction enchantingly cute. Mumbles he should recite some to her when they go back to the Tower. Conner runs his hand through his dark hair, trying his best to overcome his shyness and mutters. “Maybe.”

He looks at his watch and rubs his neck awkwardly. Hesitant to speak. “Would you like to get a cup of tea?” He asked her, gulping. Waiting for her answer. He stumbles over his words, but gathers courage to speak confidently. “You usually have your tea around 6:00pm.” Open mouthed Raven is surprised he knew exactly what time she had her tea. Her mind goes back to Donna’s words. For a minute her theory isn’t unfathomable. It makes sense. She smiles brightly at him. “I guess it’s time for tea and a snack.” He offered his hand to Raven and she took it, helping her stand up. Conner took her books from the table, carrying them for her and they walked out of the library.

~~~

They decide to try a new place they heard about. ‘Saint Aymes’. Its windows are bordered by wisteria and other seasonal blooms, bringing a sense of spring to this tranquil, autumn day. Walking in they were instantly drawn to the warm atmosphere. The plants gave it a cozy, earthy feel. It felt like a secret, upscale treehouse, it smelled like roasted coffee beans, vanilla, cinnamon and freshly baked pastries.

She stands in front of the glass, examining every single cake and muffin, searching for the one with that looks like it would taste the best. She’d happily stare there all day to decide, Conner next to her attempting to contain his excitement, her sweet-toothed best friend. Knowing him he’d want to try every possible option. She can see some vanilla buttercream buns, all kind of donuts, strawberry cream filled danish, some lemon cakes, but there’s a queue forming behind them, people coughing and tapping their feet, and the cashier’s rolling her eyes. “Just let me know which one you want. You can go find a place for us.” Conner offers. She considers it and agrees. Pointing a mini lemon raspberry cheesecake. Raven whispers a ‘thank you.’

She looks around and finds a couch with a table in the corner, the perfect spot for them, there’s some paintings on the wall, hanging. She leaned against the couch, sinking tiredly into the plush cushions as exhaustion sank in. Yes, this was rather nice in its own way. A peaceful, cold autumn afternoon, enjoying a cup of tea and pastries with her friend.

Conner comes back carrying two steaming cups, one was her Earl Grey tea, the other she was certain it was hot chocolate. It was his favorite. he placed down both cups on the table in front of them. A staff member brought them a plate with all kind of pastries. Thee was barely enough room on the table now. Raven looked at him suppressing a giggle. Conner blinked several times and shrugged his shoulders shyly. “I was hungry.”

Before she said a word about her tea. He said “I know it. Milk and two teaspoons of honey, right?” He speaks, lifting his right eyebrow, a smile tugging up the corner of his mouth. Conner was strangely observant in that way. It struck her a sweet gesture.

They were too engrossed in their conversation, the endless topics they talked about, about culture, politics, books, the list was infinite. The way Raven laughs quietly, her smart comments. He liked to think they were close, doing things friends usually do, bonding, having fun. And yet. There was something remote about her, he thought. Something unreachable, like the watery depths beneath a frozen lake. He wouldn’t mind submerging, until he found the bottom, drowning in that mystic, pure, vast lake.

All the pastries almost gone except for the last one a chocolate walnut strudel. It looked mouthwatering delicious. She finished her tea and she was still a little hungry.but she couldn’t take it. Surely Conner picked it. She can’t. She raises her eyes, decided to give it up, when they meet his gaze. They are sitting there staring at each other, it feels like time stops. It takes him less than a minute to understand what she wanted, and urgently trying to hide.

“Here,” he says, breaking some of it off, exactly in a half, he was finally good at calculating the amount of strength he needed to use, so he didn’t destroy things. “You can have half.” Something that tended to happen more than he wanted to admit.

“But, it’s yours and you love chocolate!” Raven said anxiously. He’d done enough for her.

“Nope. I got it for both.” His face unconsciously getting closer. “I want you to have half.” He speaks frankly. Raven opens her mouth to say he didn’t have to do it, too late, he cuts in.

“No buts.” He stops her and grins cheerfully. “What’s the point in spending an evening, eating a tasty dessert with your best friend if you can’t share it with her?”

“But you’re always doing things for me.” She bits her lips. Old habit, as they say hard to die. He gave her so much. She pondered how he could be so kindhearted, good-natured, and selfless. She wasn’t referring just to sharing a pastry or his gallantry. It was everything.

One look and she gives up the idea of saying no. He seemed so impeccable , innocent, sometimes too good for this corrupted world. She doesn’t reply, sighs defeated and takes the piece from him and tastes it. It was exquisite. “Thank you.” She says to him. She thanks him wholeheartedly, warmly. She couldn’t imagine spending days like this with anyone else. And Conner can see the gratitude showing in her cosmic eyes. He understands. He simply smiles.

Maybe Donna was right. Did Conner had a crush on her? Actions. ‘You aren’t listening’. The signs are all there. He knows everything about her, the details. She could not have predicted growing this close with another person in such a short amount of time. She’s been living in the a Tower for years with Gar, Jaime and the others. Conner was different. What began as a mere trickle in a stream suddenly grew like the currents of a river. She was almost shocked at how easy it felt to be attuned to each other’s rhythms. As though they had known each other for years. How did she feel though? It was so sudden. She didn’t want to find out for now.

Conner thinks perhaps happiness isn’t as complex as humans make it sound. No. It doesn’t have to take an entire lifetime to look for, search frantically everywhere. In his own words, his mind, his being. Happiness was this moment. Moments with her, a fraction of infinity. That was his very own version of happiness.

More konrae @grassfour @ravenfan1242 @andthendk 🙈🙈🙈🙈🙈💙💜💜💙💜

#konrae #conrae #raven x conner #kon el #conner kent #raven roth #teen titans #donna troy #lex luthor #clark kent #dc fandom #dc universe #writing #happiness #first crush #feelings #fluff #conner needs a hug #superboy

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spidernana · 4 years

Note

In regards to your Papyra craving, what about Chara taking Edge to an ice cream place on the surface for the first time?

“ABSOLUTELY NOT.”

Chara let out a long and weary sigh, tilting their head back to stare exasperatedly at the glaringly bright sky. The sun was blazing high overhead, overheating all it looked down on and some of those attempting to hide in the small splotches of shade the trees lining the busy street offered, and though it had been mere minutes since the pair had left the cool of the embassy, desperate for some sort of entertainment, a sheen of sweat stuck to the human’s forehead already.

Papyrus was pristine in all his meticulous, edgy glory, not a drop of sweat on his cracked ivory skull, but that wasn’t really a surprise. They honestly hadn’t ever seen him less than immaculate.

The ice cream shop they had stumbled across was the exact answer to the problem of the late summer heat, the thoughts of chocolate brownie fudge goodness nearly making them salivate, but, as usual, the prickly, picky skeleton monster was digging in the heels of his tall, spotless boots.

“Papyrus, please. I haven’t had non-magical ice cream in FOREVER, I might just die if I don’t.”

Unsurprisingly, he looked vastly unimpressed, raising a haughty, bony brow over his scarred and slitted sockets with near condescension, gloved arms folded across his broad chest immovably. He snorted through his nasal cavity, tapping a single, clawed phalange against his arm and sending another short, disgusted look at the little shop they stood in front of.

“I HIGHLY DOUBT THAT, MY LIEGE. BESIDES, THAT PARLOR IS FILTHY, AND I WON’T BE SEEN IN IT. I WILL BUY YOU SOME AT THE STORE.”

Chara lowered their gaze to glare at their bodyguard/constant shadow/boyfriend (“heh, more like ‘bonefriend’.” “Shut up, greaseball. Don’t you have a wife to drool all over?” “yeah, i do, actually. a sight better’n watchin’ you two fuckin’ moon over each other.”), jutting a hip out and pouting dolefully. The tall skeleton monster merely chuckled, his near-perpetual scowl cracking to reveal a handsome, fond, and mocking smile, and Chara tutted, hands now propped on their hips.

“Come on, that’s part of the fun, numbskull. Will I get tetanus? Maybe food poisoning? It’s all a mystery… and, it comes with rainbow sprinkles!”

It was Papyrus’ turn to sigh, the intensely bright scarlet of his magical gaze rolling in his sockets, but his small smile lingered around his fanged mouth, indulgent, as ever, of the little human’s wants. Perhaps more than he should be, as often as it drew them both into trouble, but he considered himself capable of anything they could throw at him, and acquiesced to their tiny, goading whispers of “Please please pleaseeeee…” with a tsk of a hidden tongue and a hand pressed to the small of their back, urging them towards the shop with a look of long-suffering patience on his sharp face.

“IF WE MUST, BUT IF YOU GET SICK, IT’S YOUR OWN FAULT AND I REFUSE TO PITY YOU.”

Chara lifted a fist to the sky in victory, and danced away from the monster’s lingering touch only to take his much larger hand in theirs, squeezing it and sending him a wink when he shot them a look askance.

“Liar~”

Several minutes, a fairly long line, and two scoops of slightly melty ice cream later (“YOU DO NOT NEED THREE, YOU’LL SPOIL YOUR DINNER.” “You’re not my mother, Papy dear.” “CERTAINLY NOT. YOU’D BE BETTER BEHAVED IF I WERE.”) found them seated outside the little shop beneath an aged plastic umbrella, Chara ferociously digging into their ridiculously sweet and chocolatey confection and Papyrus sitting stiffly on his bench of their table, doing his best impression of someone that had sat on a cactus.

“See? This is great!”

Papyrus looked as though he couldn’t disagree more, arranging the hang of his scarf around his neck primly and precisely as he looked around them, the cracking plastic table, and the stained pavement with an upturned nasal ridge and all the offended dignity of a slighted cat.

“MY SEAT IS STICKY, THERE ARE BEES AND TRASH EVERYWHERE, AND I HIGHLY SUSPECT THIS “ICE CREAM” WAS FOUND IN A LANDFILL AND REPURPOSED. I COULD PROBABLY MAKE YOU A HIGHER QUALITY PRODUCT IN ONE OF SANS’ SNEAKERS.”

Chara wrinkled their nose at the very thought, shuddering and shaking their head, before reaching out and lightly slapping one of the monster’s arms with the back of their hand, scowling at him playfully when he turned to look down on them huffily.

“Shush, you grump.”

He scoffed at the very thought, picking an invisible piece of lint from the pristine surface of his shirt and flicking it expertly into the overflowing trashcan at the edge of the small, cracked parking lot beside the shop.

“MY BROTHER IS A GRUMP. I AM HIGHLY CRITICAL TO BRING OUT THE BEST IN THOSE AROUND ME.”

Sounded like bullshit (not the part about his brother; they honestly didn’t know how Frisk put up with the bad-tempered monster), and they weren’t one to let that slide; Chara prodded their dripping plastic spoon at the prideful skeleton, arching a brow over their clever gaze and smirking broadly.

“Oh yeah? Why don’t you ever criticize me then.”

Papyrus looked unimpressed by the brandished spoon, pushing it away with a single claw and near distaste wrinkling his nasal ridge, and folded his arms across his chest firmly, tilting his skull and letting out a soft, quiet huff.

“YOU ARE BEYOND MY REPROACH, HIGHNESS.”

It was Chara’s turn to scoff, rolling their eyes, shaking their head, and looking back to the puddling remains of their treat. Damn… that hadn’t lasted long at all. They dug at the rounded edges of the paper bowl they’d been given, trying to scoop the last bits of chocolate from it while glancing back at the silently observing (and judging) monster beside them, fluttering their eyelashes in mocking.

“Are you calling me perfect, Papyrus~”

He smirked at that, the hard line of his furrowed brows softening, and he extended a hand to take the empty bowl from them, shifting it to the side to be disposed of later. His hand replaced it, taking theirs in its palm, and raised it to his fanged mouth to press a kiss to their knuckles, holding their gaze with his as he did so.

“YES.”

Chara blushed so deeply and profusely that their freckles disappeared completely, tilting their head to hide their gaze beneath the fall of their red hair. They only blushed deeper at the sound of his quiet chuckle, the feeling of his thumb stroking across their knuckles, and kicked a hanging foot against the umbrella pole beneath the table, flustered and short of breath.

He was ridiculously good at that, for such a rigid, cantankerous monster…

They glanced at him from beneath the fall of their hair, biting their lower lip and fiddling with the edge of their napkin.

“...you know, there are people that don’t believe that you know how to flirt.”

He snickered at that, his smile stretching wider across the sharp ivory of his face and the magic in his sockets softening. He shifted the hold of his hand to lace their fingers together, his hand nearly engulfing theirs, and leaned his jaw into the palm of the other, watching them fondly from beneath lowered lids.

“HOW UNFORTUNATE FOR THEM. I SUPPOSE I WILL HAVE TO SAVE ALL MY CHARMS FOR YOU.”

Chara smiled shyly in the face of the only one that ever been able to make them do so, and squeezed his hand gently.

“I suppose so.”

#papyra #one shot #papyrus x chara #underfell #uf!papyrus #uf!chara #i think this might be the first thing i've ever written for papyra #and i love it #a taste of frans #cuz you know me #ahahaah #that was lovely #sweet babus

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kbstories · 3 years

Text

habits

(Or: Bakugou is a little shit and a dork. 1-A gets used to it.)

Read on: AO3 / Twitter

One lesser known truth about Bakugou Katsuki is that he's an unrepentant thief of snacks.

Class 1-A is blissfully unaware of this habit all the way up to their move to Heights Alliance. There, they not only share living space, but every meal of the day as well — a status quo that revealed many a peculiar fun fact about most classmates, really.

Bakugou's first victim by sheer proximity is Kirishima. They're hanging out outside after a weekend session at the gym, drinking their electrolytes and talking about the pros and cons of different brands of protein bars. Well, Kirishima is, at least.

Bakugou is huffing, saying, "It's all bullshit", as he gives the one Kirishima is currently eating the side-eye. "The food industry is one big scam, really. Learn to cook your own stuff and you won't need processed anything."

"Okay", goes Kirishima, long used to debating him on anything from hero rankings to the weather. "But consider this: I burn anything I cook. Anything, dude."

"That's factually impossible."

"...I burned water trying to make ramen once?"

"Shitty Hair. Water doesn’t— How the fuck?“

Kirishima laughs, waving the half-eaten protein bar around. "I don't know, but there was smoke, I swear! I set off the fire alarm and everything, my moms were so done. Life-long kitchen ban in my own home, that's me."

Bakugou groans a disgusted eugh sound. "Fucking understandable."

When it only makes Kirishima smile all the wider, Bakugou pushes at his shoulder, a shove too rough to count as affectionate by anyone's standards but Bakugou's.

"Fine. Normal people shouldn't eat protein bars. You shouldn't either, but you'd starve without 'em, apparently."

"Or, you could, y’know, cook for m—"

Another shove, enough to push a still-laughing Kirishima over. "Keep trying, dickhead. Pshh, cooking for you. In your dreams, maybe."

Kirishima hums and says nothing, his idle sip of sports drink interrupted by Bakugou pulling him to his feet.

"Who cares, c'mon. Don't think for a second I forgot about Thirteen's assignment."

A sputtering gasp from Kirishima. "Thirteen gave us an assignment?!“

"...Kirishima."

"Wait, no, listen. Why do physics have to, like, exist?", is Kirishima's brilliant argument. Nailed it.

Bakugou just stares. Then he snorts, "Fucking hell", shakes his head. "Whatever, I'm gonna make lunch and you're gonna do your damn homework. Maybe I'll let you have some. There's a faint chance. Very faint."

"Bro", Kirishima looks at him in wonder. "What about this, though?“

The glance Bakugou gives Kirishima's protein bar is downright offended if a little confused, too. "What about it?"

"Yeah, you're right. I'll just throw it awa—"

Bakugou moves so fast, all Kirishima sees is a blond blur.

Suddenly, the hand holding the snack is empty and Bakugou is chewing, having snatched the thing up with his teeth and devoured it like a beast from myths and legends.

"Problem solved, we're going. Huh, these don't even taste that shitty.“

Kirishima is too stunned to resist.

The Bakusquad is next in line when it comes to Bakugou's food-related crimes. Specifically, the croissant Kaminari is enthusiastically gesturing with to emphasize the point that yes, sneaking off campus for one (1) French pastry was definitely worth risking Aizawa's wrath over.

"It's perfectly baked. Look at its impeccable shape", Kaminari holds it up to his circle of friends like its his first-born child, "and the crust! It's so fluffy. I've been craving one all freaking week. This is gonna be so—"

Chomp.

Before Kirishima can even attempt to stop the tragedy waiting to happen, Bakugou has wandered back from his room, a stack of books under one arm and Kaminari's prized croissant in his mouth. The books are slammed on the table.

"Less talking, more studying", Bakugou snarks, somehow without getting crumbs of the stolen treat on anything. "Where'd ya get this from, anyway? S'good."

Kaminari’s jaw is on the floor, shell-shocked. "My… My croissant..."

"Sorry, bro", Kirishima sighs and pats his back. "He's just too damn quick."

The words are said with a look towards Bakugou, the that-wasn't-nice-man kind. Bakugou wrinkles his nose at him. (The very next day, an identical croissant shows up on Kaminari's plate during lunch break.)

Weeks fly by. By then, most of 1-A has been caught unawares by Bakugou's sneaky ways exactly once. They're training to be Heroes, after all — there's no way he'd get the drop on them again, at least not as easily.

Bakugou seems to be aware of this.

It doesn't stop him from snatching away Tokoyami's apple during movie night, smirking at both him and Dark Shadow with near-obnoxious levels of smugness. Tokoyami stares him dead in the eye while he grabs another one, one feathery brow raised in challenge.

Aoyama's handpicked brie is next, the guy's offended swearing almost as colorful as Bakugou's on his worst days. Bakugou outright cackles at that, obviously delighted by the prospect of someone else being subjected to Iida's no-cursing lecture for once, foreign language or no.

Speaking of Iida: It's his unopened cup of chocolate pudding Bakugou is eyeing like a cat does an especially oblivious mouse.

"Dooon't", Kirishima warns, hand hardened and ready to make a grab if needed. "I swear to Crimson Riot. Let the poor man have his pudding, or else."

"What has Iida even done to you, bro?", adds Kaminari, sliding his food tray into his usual spot across from them. "Like, I get it, I've pranked you enough times to owe you twenty croissants. And you're carrying Kirishima's entire academic career, so targeting him is valid, too."

"Hey! ...That's fair, actually. Carry on."

Kaminari winks at him. It's not like it's any different for him. "Iida, however, is wholesome, and—"

"Guys, you're making a great point and all that“, Ashido contributes over her bowl of natto. "But he's already gone."

Kirishima's head whips around. Indeed: No Bakugou. "No!"

"How is he this stealthy?!" Kaminari whines. "Bakugou, of all people!"

A few tables over, Iida is currently mid-story and too wrapped up in telling his audience of Momo, Todoroki, Uraraka and Midoriya about his adventures of googling what Aoyama had yelled out in sparkly rage the day before to notice a certain someone approaching.

Bakugou smiles, certain of his victory. Pretending to walk past them, he takes one hand out of his pockets and reaches out—

Only for his arm to be slammed to the table with a loud bang, mere inches from the desired snack.

"Kacchan", Midoriya pipes up casually, eyes still on Iida who — like everyone else at the table — jumped half a foot in the air from the sudden movement. "That's not yours."

Every member of 1-A is blatantly watching as Bakugou, food thief extraordinaire, is stopped in his tracks for the first time since his reign of terror began.

A collective breath is held. Surely, this will lead straight into a showdown of epic proportions in the middle of U.A.'s cafeteria. After all, any interaction between Midoriya and Bakugou tends to end in a shouting match, chaos or even bloodshed. And Bakugou does look intense, glowering at Midoriya as the muscles in his pinned arm bunch up and his palm starts to glow.

Then, he goes tch and rolls his eyes, grumbling: "Let go, Shitty Nerd. Figures you'd be the only one paying fucking attention."

Midoriya smiles and does as asked, pushing his own pudding cup closer to Bakugou right away. A blatant offer that's equally as blatantly ignored, as expected.

The actual food was never the point, after all.

Bakugou huffs off, lips upturned in somewhat of a smile of his own. Not that he'd ever admit to it as he rejoins his own friends, snapping at them to close their mouths and finish their lunch already.

Read on: AO3 / Twitter

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #BNHA #MHA #bakugou katsuki #BNHA fanfiction #my stuff #bakugou is a weirdo who doesn't know how to socialize pass it on

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lambroseforlife · 4 years

Text

Well, this has been sitting in my drafts for a while now. After sudden renewed inspiration and a bunch of half-done research over a year later, here goes nothing. I felt that the best setup for this would take place between books 2 and 3 so maybe like 2 months after returning from Egypt? For those that are squeamish and dont like stuff about periods then duh, skip reading this.

— — —

'Blast it all!' I huffed as I dropped the stack of boxes on the floor. Pretty sizable ones, by the noticeable thump as they hit the ground.

'Mr Linton.' I heard a curt voice. Looking up, I stared into a pair of cold, familiar eyes.

'Yes, sir?' I grimaced at him. It was much easier than smiling when your ribs were aching and lungs wheezing for air.

'You are two minutes and twenty-three seconds slower than you were yesterday.' Snapping his pocket watch closed, he tucked it back into his waistcoat pocket. His gaze flickered back to me. 'I do not pay you for your tardiness.'

'No, sir.' I beamed. Well, I tried to anyway. 'Just for my delightful company.'

His eyes narrowed ever so slightly. His mouth parted slightly as if to retort but then closed.

I made the mistake of looking into that glacial, intense stare of his and felt trapped. But I didn't want to escape. Not when I felt like I could forget my worries and problems from the rest of the world when it was just him and me. His gaze held mine and I had to suppress the urge to shiver. Not out of fear, though.

A flash of images came to mind. Soft lips melded to mine. Ripped clothing on a hotel bed. Cold desert nights spent in strong, comforting arms.

Snapping out of my daze, I shook my head.

'I...' I cleared my throat and glanced away. 'I better get a move on. Wouldn't want to waste time.'

Without waiting for a reply, I hurried back into my office and closed the door without looking back.

I met my reflection in the glass windows overlooking the tall buildings of London on a typical gloomy morning. If I squinted hard enough, I could see a blush forming on her cheeks.

Get a hold of yourself, Lilly!

This past month I had been polishing my acting skills. By that, I meant pretending that certain things in Egypt had never happened. In general, both my employer and I had smoothly settled into a routine that, well, made it seem that Egypt had never happened once we both returned back to London two months ago. A bit too smoothly, actually.

Although there were times when our gazes would linger on each other for one moment too long just like earlier...

Enough, Lilly! Back to work.

Marching back to my desk, I sat down and stretched. What was wrong with me today? I slept mostly decently last night, save for waking up late with some soreness in my lower back—

Plink.

Opening the metal tube on my desk, I unfolded the paper.

Mr Linton,

It is already thirty-two minutes past nine and I fail to see my daily correspondence on my desk.

Rikkard Ambrose

So we were back to communicating through notes now, were we? Flipping it over, I picked up the fountain pen on my desk and began to write.

Dear Mr Ambrose,

On it immediately, sir.

Yours, Lilly Linton

I folded the note and placed it back into the tube, pulling the lever. I opened one of the desk drawers and found the pile of letters Mr Stone had left for me to sort through. Pulling them out, I began to go through them when I heard a gurgling noise. I looked around, confused. Then I heard it again.

What was that noise? It sounded like it was coming from someone's— oh.

As if in protest, my stomach growled even louder.

Right. Another thing I forgot to do this morning after waking up late.

Well, times like these called for extra measures. Opening another desk drawer, I found out my treasured stash of chocolate and grabbed a bar.

Not exactly the healthiest option for breakfast but so what? It was chocolate!

Unwrapping the bar, I began to sort through the stack of letters for Mr Ambrose's correspondence for the day. I managed to finish going through it in under five minutes too— both the stack of letters and the bar of chocolate.

No sooner after sitting back down at my desk once I passed the letters through the letter slot at Mr Ambrose's door, I heard another plink.

I removed the letter from the tube and picked it up, beginning to read.

Mr Linton,

Why are there brown fingerprints on my correspondence?

Rikkard Ambrose

I frowned. What brown fingerprints was he referring to? Setting the note down on the table, I was about to reach for the charity letters in the waste paper basket when I noticed something odd about the note.

Upon further inspection, there were brown fingerprints on there too! But how did it get there? Where was it coming from?

Wait...

Slowly, I looked at my fingers and then at the wrapper of the finished chocolate bar. Then my fingers. Then the wrapper again.

Oops.

Wiping my fingers and the pen on my trousers, I thought about how to explain my slight predicament.

Dear Mr Ambrose,

There was a small accident while sorting your correspondence. I fixed it immediately so it shall not happen again.

Yours, Lilly Linton

That should suffice. I sent the letter through the tube and took out the small appointment book with all of Mr Ambrose's scheduled meetings. I had barely opened it to the current week when I heard another plink.

Mr Linton,

What do you mean by 'small accident'?

Rikkard Ambrose

Darn! I thought I had gotten away with it. I picked up the pen to write again.

Dear Mr Ambrose,

Just a small, teensy-weensy, tiny incident that is barely of any consequence. Really, no need to worry yourself. I've taken care of it.

Yours, Lilly Linton

Not even ten seconds had passed until the next plink.

Mr Linton,

Do not test my patience. Tell me what happened.

Rikkard Ambrose

Blast! He wasn't going to let this go, was he? Chewing my lip, I picked up the pen with sweaty palms. What to write this time?

Dear Mr Ambrose,

The aforementioned incident was minor, completely inconsequential. Not even a small accident, really. Just a small inconvenience involving chocolate.

Yours, Lilly Linton

With bated breath and my heart ready to jump out of my chest, I pulled the lever.

Perhaps he would move on from it?

Ha, as if! This was Mr Ambrose I was talking about here. Getting the Queen to dance on the rooftops of Buckingham Palace in her undergarments would have been more likely to happen.

As if on cue, icy silence radiated from behind the door to his office. The kind of silence that preceded judgment from kings before they gave the order for executions.

Now to any person, silence was just silence. But not with Mr Ambrose. As his secretary, I knew that there were at least ten types of silences after a few months of being in his employ.

Seconds stretched into minutes until finally...

Plink!

Holding my breath, I unfolded the letter.

Mr Linton,

I do not pay you to eat on the job as my secretary. There is a designated 30 minute break appointed in the afternoon for that. See to it that there are no more 'small inconveniences' to distract you. Knowledge is power is time is money.

Rikkard Ambrose

I suppose that could have gone worse than expected. Considering the incident at his factory two weeks ago. Also the other business deal from the other day. And...

Well, you get the picture.

Sighing, I set the note aside and decided to start on the day's tasks. Hopefully today would just be another day at work that would pass by quickly.

It wasn't until later that I realized just how wrong I was.

— — —

A few hours later, I was in the process of organising new files to be added to Mr Ambrose's already endless file collection when it happened.

I felt a building pressure in my lower abdomen, on the verge of becoming an entirely uncomfortable pressure in my lower regions.

Wonderful. Another thing that I had forgotten to do before leaving the house this morning.

Getting up slowly and carefully, I headed towards Mr Ambrose's door and knocked.

'Enter.' Came the composed, cool voice that I knew by heart at this point.

Shuffling into the room, I saw that Mr Ambrose surrounded by a pile of papers on his desk as usual, reading an opened file in front of him.

'Ehem.' I cleared my throat.

'What is it?' He didn't look up from the file.

I contemplated how to tell him that I needed to pee in the most delicate manner that I could currently manage. I decided to settle with:

'I need to use the powder room.'

He glanced up at me, then quickly back to his papers.

'Go in.' He jerked his head towards the direction of the small door that led to his personal bathroom.

Without expelling the contents of my bladder, I walked as fast I could to the door and shut it behind me. Dropping my trousers, I sat on the toilet to relieve myself.

This was one of those times when wearing trousers was more convenient than wearing a dress and hoop skirt. Once I finished my business, I was ready to pull up my trousers and get back to work.

That's when it happened.

That's when I saw it.

A small, reddish stain on the nether region of my brown trousers.

Oh no.

No.

No, no, no, nononono !

No! No! No!

Why now?

Well, that nasty inner voice in the back of my mind retorted, that explains everything so far today.

My sore back, waking up late, feeling sluggish and extra emotional, craving for chocolate. It all made sense now but...

I frantically tried to think back to when was the last time this happened. Let's see...sometime shortly after I had returned back to London after the Egypt trip. But why wasn't this an issue then?

Because, my inner voice piped up again, you were home on a Sunday afternoon when it started.

Blast! What was I going to do now?

I went over my options.

Option 1: Try to endure the rest of the day and hope that no one would notice. I could even tie my tailcoat around my waist. It would definitely look odd and probably rouse suspicion but maybe it could work?

Yeah, right. If you bleed through your tailcoat too, then you're done for. Say goodbye to your job.

Couldn't that inner voice of mine shut up already! Why did it have to be so rational?

Option 2: Resign my job before I would be found out.

Definitely not happening. Not when I had been through so much for this job including leaving the country twice and risking my life multiple times. There was no way that I, Lilly Linton, ifrit extraordinaire, would let something like this get in the way of my independence.

Which left option 3: Ask Mr Ambrose if I could take my lunch break early to go home and change.

Just the idea made me want to disappear on the spot. It was embarrassing enough that this had to happen but having to involve my boss too? This made the situation more dreadful a hundred times over. But...

What other choice did I have? Unfortunately, this was the best option compared to the other two.

Closing my eyes, I couldn't help but to let out a loud sigh.

Remember what I said earlier about trousers being convenient? I take it all back. This was definitely one of those times when wearing trousers was definitely not convenient! If I was wearing a dress, then there may have been a chance that I could have held on a bit until lunch break. But there was no choice, I needed to go home immediately to change my trousers and retrieve that.

However, the bigger issue was how to convince Mr Ambrose to let me take my lunch break earlier. What to tell him?

Mr Ambrose, I'm feeling a bit ill and would like to take a break.

Great. That would give him the grounds to dismiss me for the day, possibly even sack me, especially after what happened earlier with the chocolate.

My younger sister, Ella, has food poisoning and I need to check on her.

Nope. Mr Ambrose would be moved to sympathy as much as a mountain could budge.

My aunt has arranged a meeting with a prospective suitor for me this afternoon.

Not convincing in the slightest considering that Mr Ambrose knew that I would do anything to avoid the topic of marriage. Especially when it involved me.

Drat! What could I say?

Unbidden, another thought popped into my head.

Why not just tell him the truth?

What? As if that would ever work!

Not to mention, a woman's....time was a taboo topic. Despite my mother's early death and limited knowledge provided by my aunt, even I knew that was something proper ladies did not discuss with gentlemen in society. It was highly inappropriate.

But then again, since when were you a proper lady?

Good point. It's not like Mr Ambrose was a gentleman either by any means.

Still, the main issue was that would Mr Ambrose be understanding even if I told him the truth?

I doubted that someone like him even knew something like that about females anyway, given that he most likely came out of a giant boulder. It was impossible to imagine him with a mother, let alone two human parents.

Enough stalling, Lilly! It's now or never.

Five minutes later, I stepped out of the bathroom after working up enough courage. Mr Ambrose was still flipping through the same file, not having moved from his position.

Standing in front of his desk, I cleared my throat. No response.

I tried to get his attention again. 'Mr Ambrose?'

'What is it, Mr Linton?' His eyes never left the file.

'Er, I was wondering if...I could take my lunch break now?'

Damn! Why did my voice sound so weak?

His hand paused, right in the middle of flipping a page. Slowly, ever so slowly, he raised his eyes to meet mine.

I swallowed.

'What did you say?' His voice was deceptively calm.

'Could I take my lunch break now?'

If his stare was cold before, it was frosty now.

'Mr Linton, did I or did I not mention earlier that there is a designated thirty minute break for all employees?'

'Um, you did, sir.' I looked down at the stone floor. For some reason, it was particularly interesting.

'So why are you asking me this?' He reached to grab another file from one of the piles on his table.

'Well,' I bit my lip. 'I had another accident.'

Silence.

I risked a glance upwards. He seemed frozen, his hand still holding onto the file, save for the narrowing of his eyes by 0.000013 of a millimetre.

'By any chance,' he finally ground out, 'is this "accident" of yours similar to what happened earlier?'

'No.'

'No?'

'No.' I repeated, my throat dry. Why was this so hard? 'A worse accident. Much, much worse.'

He cocked his head. 'How so?'

'It involves my identity.'

Based on his expression, he knew what I was referring to. While I was his personal secretary during working hours, it was as Mr Victor Linton, not as my true self, Miss Lillian Linton.

A female.

'Mr Linton.' His voice was soft. Too soft. Like the momentary stillness before a hurricane. 'What. Did. You. Do?'

'I- I didn't do anything!' Why the heck was I stuttering? 'Well, not yet anyway.'

'Yet?'

It was both impressive and a bit unnerving how ominous he made just one word sound. I felt like a mouse that had been cornered by a tiger.

'What is going on?' He demanded, eyes flashing. 'Tell me!'

I bit my lip and his eyes zeroed in on the action, following my every movement.

'I'm not sure how to bring this up since you haven't been out in society much but have you heard about a woman's time?'

'A woman's time for what?'

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath. This really wasn't going to be easy, was it? 'There comes a time when a girl matures into a woman. Her body undergoes some physical changes and afterwards, every once in a while, she...'

Plop.

My voice trailed off when his hand let go of the file he was holding onto and it dropped back onto the table.

His mouth was now slightly ajar and his eyes were cast downwards, scanning the contents of his desk.

'Oh.' His voice didn't sound as collected as before.

'Yes.'

So he did know about it after all. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised as I was, given what he repeated about time and knowledge and all that. But still, considering this was Mr Ambrose...

'What do you expect me to do about that?'

'Huh?'

'Don't you females usually do something to deal with it?'

'Well...yes, but—'

'So do what you need to do. Stop wasting my time already.'

'That's the issue, sir.' I snapped at him, too annoyed to focus on the fact that he had acknowledged my gender. 'I need to go home and change. That's why I asked if I could take my lunch break now.'

'Why do you need to go home? Can't you do it here?'

I nearly choked. That hardheaded, miserly head of his was really made of stone!

'I don't have any extra clothes here and what I use to take care of it is also at home too.'

He just stared at me.

I shrugged. 'I mean, I suppose I can wait until later to take my break. You'll have to risk my true identity being exposed once your workers see me bleeding all over the—'

'Mr Linton!'

Oh my. Was it just me or were his ears now tinged a bit red?

Pressing my palms into the table, I leaned forward. 'Or you could let me go home now and get this taken care of so I can get back to work sooner.'

He leaned forward as well, sea-coloured eyes clashing with hazel ones.

'Indeed, Mr Linton?' I felt his breath on my lips.

I arched an eyebrow. 'Indeed, Mr Ambrose.'

'Very well then.' He straightened back into his chair and picked up the file he dropped.

'W-What?' I blinked.

'You may take your lunch break now.'

'Really?' I stared at him in shock.

I couldn't believe it had actually worked! This was Mr Ambrose we were talking about here. I had half expected him to tell me something ridiculous along the lines of controlling my body's functions and to stop bleeding. It wouldn't have been the first time he had said something like that anyway.

'I don't like to repeat myself. Go now.'

My face broke out into a broad smile. 'Yes, sir!'

'Also, see to it that this doesn't happen again.' His stare was disapproving.

'You mean taking an early lunch break? Or are you referring to my other problem? Because I don't know how to break this to you but—'

'The clock is ticking, Mr Linton.'

'Yes, sir!' I gave a salute and left his office.

— — —

It's surprising really, what one can accomplish during a time of emergency. If you were to ask me how I was able to go back home, change my clothes and even eat an early lunch on my way back to Empire house all within the span of thirty minutes, I would tell you that I had no idea it was at all possible until today.

Maybe it was possibly due to luck? That certainly seemed to play a factor as the only people home were my uncle, locked up in his study as usual, and Leadfield, cleaning out the attic. It was a good thing too, since I hadn't bothered to change back into a dress in the garden shed before climbing through my bedroom window.

I was able to obtain some linen rags designated for times like these (part of the wonderful experience of being a female) and changed into another pair of my uncle's old trousers. I even packed extra rags in my briefcase, something I probably should have done in the first place. But eh, better late than never, I suppose.

Since I had five minutes to spare on my return back to Empire House, I was able to buy a sandwich and eat it on the way. I was starting to understand the concept of efficiency, especially after working for Mr Ambrose. Huh, it might not actually be all that bad.

Thankfully, the rest of work passed by uneventfully. Once I returned to my office, I saw that Mr Ambrose had shut the door to his own once again. He still could tell that I had returned though, for I had just sat down at my desk when I was pelted with more tasks to complete for the rest of the day, including retrieving more files. But I was determined to work even harder to make up for this morning.

By the time I took a look at my pocket watch, it was already dark outside. Eight o'clock on the dot.

Packing up my things, I was ready to leave when the door to Mr Ambrose's office opened, revealing his tall, dark figure in the doorway.

'Would you step into my office for a moment, Mr Linton?'

'Why?'

'I have something I wish to discuss with you.'

'You can discuss it here.'

'I can, But I would prefer not to.'

'I would prefer to.'

'You do not get to decide, Mr Linton. My office, now. Close the door behind you.'

I reluctantly followed him, shutting the door behind me. He sat back down in his chair, his posture ramrod straight with crossed arms.

'In regards to the matter earlier today...' He began in a low voice.

'Yes?' Did I take more than thirty minutes to return? Were there more mistakes I had made after my break?

'Are you sure that you're fit to work?'

'What?'

'Are you fit to work with your current state?'

Was he being serious right now? Judging by the expression on his face (or lack thereof), I had to say that he was.

'Why wouldn't I be?'

'Given what has transpired earlier today, I have reason to believe so, Mr Linton.'

A spark of anger flared within me. 'Mr Ambrose, besides the two incidents that happened before my break, did I give you any other reason to believe otherwise?'

'Well, no.' He had the nerve to sound reluctant!

'Then yes, I am plenty fit to work.' I glared at him. 'Mr Ambrose, just because of I'm losing a bit of blood does not mean that I am incapacitated.'

He opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off.

'Furthermore, I am not weak. Women are not weak. We have been dealing with this since the beginning of time and haven't let it get in the way of doing what needs to be done.'

'I never said that you were weak, Mr Linton.'

'Then what are you trying to say?'

'I...' Something flashed in his eyes so quickly before I completely identify it. Concern?

'Nothing, Mr Linton.' That granite mask of his was back in place. 'You are dismissed for the day.'

I turned to leave but then paused.

'Thank you.'

He looked up from the papers in front of him.

'For what?'

'For letting me take my break early today.'

For being more understanding than I expected you to be.

Our eyes met for a fathomless moment. He nodded once.

You're welcome.

I gave him a small smile. Spinning on my heel, I left his office, feeling his eyes trail behind my retreating figure the entire time.

I guess that today may not have been a completely bad day after all.

— — —

Wow, that was a pretty long read. Kudos if you made it to the end. This was just my take on periods if they ever came up in the SnS world. I’m kinda sad that it never did considering this was a series about women’s rights and numerous other “taboo” topics in the Victorian era have been brought up in the books such as bathroom habits, “amorous congress” and “protection” for said congress. Oh well. I was able to articles to find 2 articles that I used for reference to write this. I’ll share them in a reblog since my post wont show in the tags due to the links. There’s not much known about periods in the Victorian Era since it was a “taboo” subject but there are some tidbits here and there that I was able to base this off of.

#storm and silence #in the eye of the storm #lilly linton #rikkard ambrose #fanfiction #oneshot #kinda a prompt but not really #repost since it didnt show up in the tags the first time #stuffartsy #knowledgeispoweristimeismoney

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septembercfawkes · 5 years

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Never Confuse Characterization for Character

Lately I've been revisiting Story by Robert McKee, a famous book on the craft of storytelling. It can be pretty intense and heavy at times, so it's not something I would recommend for beginners. In fact, the first time I read it, a lot of it was so deep and new that it went over my head. It's been interesting reading it again. Now, parts seem to be validating my ideas, rather than turning and twisting them.

One thing in particular stuck out to me this last week: character vs. characterization.

Regularly, I see writers hyperfocused on characterization.

Characterization is all the surface or near-surface stuff: voice, demeanor, likes and dislikes, hair and eye color, clothes, habits, etc.

Honestly, I personally consider these things to be part of character, but for the sake of this post, we are going to look at them as two different things, to communicate specific ideas.

Characterization can be really important and really effective. Give us the right voice, mannerisms, and appearance, and we can instantly be drawn to someone. Jack Sparrow is a good example. Johnny Depp combined Pepe le Pew with Keith Richards to come up with a unique, iconic characterization. In fact, Depp is often very good with characterization. A lot of actors have the same demeanor for all of their characters (I'm trying so hard to not name anyone in particular right now), but Depp's Jack Sparrow, Mad Hatter, Willy Wonka, Grindelwald, Mort Rainey, etc. all have unique characterizations.

You are very familiar with characterization. All over online you can find long questionnaires to fill out to get to know your protagonist (or any other character). Back in the day, I would fill these out because they were fun (and they are, and that's okay!), but I often found that despite how personal the questions could get (i.e. "What is his/her greatest fear?"), I wasn't quite satisfied with the person on the page, not to mention that a lot of the stuff I ended up brainstorming seemed irrelevant to the story. And in some cases, I had to change what I'd filled out to write a better story "for some reason."

I've actually heard/read a few writers get on the character vs. characterization bandwagon and go on to kind of . . . knock down characterization. I don't agree with that. I strongly believe in the power of rich characterization. And I have zero problems if you want to be like Johnny Depp and give each main character a super unique demeanor. In fact, as long as it doesn't get too outlandish for your world, I enjoy that and think it is a good idea.

After all, if Jack Sparrow had a demeanor like the Mad Hatter, Pirates would be totally different.

But here is the problem that past me, and I see a lot of writers run into, characterization is not the sum of character. You might be filling out questionnaire after questionnaire, trying to find The Thing™️, but it's not coming together, because you only know about characterization.

Characterization is part of a character, but it isn't fully "character." When it gets down to it, when you want to get really, really deep, characterization isn't going to get you there.

As J.K. Rowling famously wrote, it's our choices that determine who we are.

You can be the gothiest goth kid, or the preppiest prep kid, but who you truly are is what you choose to do, and perhaps, I would probably add, why you choose to do it. When encountering a stray dog, do you kick it away or give it some food? You can cut out all the external stuff; you can cut out the hairstyle, the age, the clothes, the likes and dislikes, and at the heart of it, is choices.

But it's not just any choice.

As Robert McKee and others have stated, to get into that inner gem of character, it's the choices the character makes when there are significant stakes. If a character chooses vanilla ice cream over chocolate, that doesn't really tell me a lot, unless I want to read symbolism into it (which could be there).

Maybe your protagonist tells the truth to his parents about putting a frog in his sister's bed. Does that really matter if there are no potential consequences involved? Telling the truth when there are no dire consequences is easy. Telling the truth when there are important things at stake is harder. What if telling the truth meant he would be grounded and could not participate in a talent show he's been practicing for, for months? There is prize money involved, and he was hoping to use that money to buy a chemistry set. Chemistry is his passion and he wants be a world-renowned chemist someday. Which is more important to him? A potential chemistry set or telling the truth?

This can be a great way to add depth. Well, it is depth. Especially if their characterization seems to be at odds with who they truly are. A vampire who craves human blood but chooses not to drink it is interesting. A prince who'd rather be a beach bum is interesting. The bully who, when it gets down to it, sticks up for an enemy is interesting. It makes them more complex. It draws us in so we want to know more. Why doesn't this vampire drink human blood? Why doesn't this prince want to be a king? Why did this bully stick up for someone? The answers to those questions makes them complex.

We all have layers after all. And we all have boundaries. I almost never lie. But if I was stuck between telling the truth or lying to save a loved one's life, well, I'd pick the latter. But if I picked the former, that would say a lot about me as well.

Some writers throw in contradictions to create character depth (a vampire who refuses to drink human blood), which works, but if it's a main character, and I never get an idea or hint of the "why," I sometimes find myself feeling . . . cheated. Like it was just thrown in (and maybe it was). I also then get stuck, fixated on the why that I never get, so it's distracting. I don't know that we always need to explore the why, but I would say for main characters, it's almost always more effective, more powerful, more meaningful, to address the why, to some extent. Unless, of course, the reason is ridiculous, in which case, maybe you need to reevaluate that and come up with something better.

There is an important part to all of this, which is that we need to see your character making significant choices, which means they must be placed in situations where they can make decisions. If you don't give your character opportunities to make significant decisions, it's probably going to be a problem. This is another reason why people ask for "active" protagonists. They must want something and make choices with stakes attached.

Don't be afraid to make your protagonist's true self a bit negative or flawed--after all, they need to grow during the story (usually). Maybe near the beginning of the story, you show your character being selfish, but at the end, we see he is willing to sacrifice his life, literally or figuratively. This is called character arc.

The way your character changes through the course of the story can also bring more "character" to him or her than characterization can alone. If we have a character that starts as a villain, but ends up being a good guy by the end, well, that's interesting and complex, and the transformation demands depth to be satisfying. This can all get more complicated real fast, because there are degrees and variations, and I don't want to muddy the water quite yet.

But if you are only trying to find character by filling out endless characterization questionnaires, you might never write a fully formed, deep, complex character. Instead, consider choices, contradictions, and arcs.

#writing tips #writing tip #writing tips and tricks #writing references #writeblr #character #characterization #oc #writing advice #writing helps #writer #editor

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writtenonreceipts · 4 years

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words words words the fanfic saga continues...should have another part up by this weekend. Thanks for the wonderful comments and support for the first part, y’all have no idea how much it means!

TW: Angst, anxiety, depression, talk about death, drug references, alcohol references. (I’d honestly say the drug and alcohol are pretty mild but I just want to be safe for ya)

They are the runaways. Before she manages to return home with her basement full of demons, Aelin meets Rowan. Several times. Set within the events of THIS fic. Part three. Throne of Glass modern AU

hello, good-bye (part 2)

It is a year after she meets him for the first time.

Technically it is their fourth meeting. But the other three don’t count. Not really.

The first time they met she’d just overdosed and was sitting in a hospital bed wondering what the best route of escape was. Lysandra slept over her legs, drooling. Aelin had no recollection of how she got in the hospital. Nothing beyond the needle, the pills, the desperation.

The second time they met she vomited on his shoes. They were damn nice ones too. She offered no apology other than the fact it was his own damn fault she was going through withdrawal symptoms. It was his own damn fault for being so annoying. And why was he covered in cartoon stickers?

The third time they met they weren’t supposed to know names. They weren’t supposed to know histories. They weren’t supposed to be there together. Even though they found themselves in the same uncomfortable chairs staring over the same stale coffee. They were supposed to share stories of support and weakness. Those meetings were always worthless in her opinion.

So this is really the first time they meet.

Aelin is sitting in a coffee shop sipping on her chocolate hazelnut blended double espresso with extra whipped cream when she sees him.

He’s impossible to miss really. Tall and broad shouldered his physic is certainly glorious to behold. Not to mention the tan skin that gleams with post-workout sweat. His hair is silver and hangs to his shoulders, longer than when she first saw him. But that time doesn’t count, she reminds herself.

The little shop is full of the late afternoon crowd of caffeine seekers and rain avoiders. And with the deluge going on outside, quite a few people have sought refuge. Aelin wants to be annoyed, but she reminds herself that she is one of those rain avoiders.

And between watching the rain or watching the group of teenage girls giggle of text messages—Aelin decides on watching him as he orders. She doesn’t know why. It’s not like she’ll say anything to him. Better to be as far from his as possible. Because as much as she doesn’t want to—she really does remember him. He is cold, harsh, broody. She knows he has a past, but with the snippets she’s gotten. It’s a hard one. Dark and cruel.

He doesn’t notice her until his name is called. Rowan. And he’s taking the first sip of the double espresso with caramel and vanilla. She’d always thought he’d be the black coffee sort. He’s turning to find a spare table and his eyes meet hers.

She’d never admit it to anyone, but she’s always loved his eyes. From the day she woke up in that hospital bed those rich green eyes have haunted her.

Aelin fingers one of her many scars—the one on her right hand, over her knuckles—and she considers what it would be like to not feel so alone. Because right there, even with barely three feet between them, another human being has never felt so far away.

Her fingers move to the inside of her wrist where the thinner scars reside. So far away.

“This chair taken?” His voice is low and brisk.

Aelin looks up at him. She shrugs, not even bothering to blush or play coy or something else she might have done once. “No.”

It’s not like he’ll try and talk to her. Anonymity is his life. From the hospital where he works to the meetings he attends. He has no ties to her. It’s not like she wants any either. She knows his condescending look. Which really is hypocritical when you think about it. If he’s an addict too, he can’t judge her. Can he?

But she judges him. Because what else can she do? She judges him for barely talking to her in the hospital. At the meetings. She judges him for the stupid sticker he gave her where he scrawled a meeting location and phone number. She judges him for never really talking about what he’s gone through. Because how can you change and get better when you don’t accept the past?

She’s a hypocrite too.

“What?” she asks realizing in her stupor he’s actually decided to talk to her.

“Your bag?” He repeats, a single eyebrow raised.

Aelin fumbles realizing her too big purse is sitting in the proffered chair. She snatches it up and takes it into her lap. Maybe that will help the way she shakes and the feeling of panic welling up inside her. Why is she so focused on him with scenarios dancing in her mind of things that will never happen? Things that are stupid. Things that—

“I didn’t expect you to actually show up,” Rowan says.

Aelin snaps her eyes to him as he drinks his coffee. “Excuse me?”

“To the meetings,” he replies.

“It’s none of your business,” she says, cold and sharp. Her hackles are on the rise and already she’s debating her escape.

“No, I guess it’s not.”

“Why would you even care?” she asks. They’ve sat in silence for too long and she doesn’t like it. Even though she told herself there was no real reason to talk to him, she can’t help it.

He smirks. “I thought it was none of my business?”

She calls him a name and is slinging the strap of her purse over a shoulder.

“Wait,” he says. He holds up a placating hand but his face is unreadable. “Stay.”

Aelin glances outside where it’s started to rain. She purses her lips and relaxes back into her seat.

“I’m Rowan,” he says finally. “Seeing as how we’ve never officially met.”

The wince is too hard to conceal or pass off as a shiver. Aelin shrugs it off and doesn’t quite meet his gaze. “Aelin.”

He makes a noise in the back of his throat which causes Aelin to look up. His eyes are narrowed slightly as one finger runs along the lip of his cup. He’s scrutinizing her. It’s like she is an open book before him. Everything there is to know is tattooed upon her skin. So, Aelin meets his eyes and holds that intense stare.

“I guess I’m still trying to figure you out,” he says. “I thought I’d have it down already.”

“Because I’m so easy? So like all the other girls who’ve fallen apart in your hospital?” Aelin replies. Maybe it’s a cheap shot but she doesn’t care.

He cocks his head to the side but says nothing. So she says nothing either.

And they remain that way until the rain has subsided and Aelin is safe to run out to her car and leave him behind.

Tucked in the pages of her favorite book, Aelin finds the sticker.

It’s of a cartoon daisy with a smiling face in the center and happy yellow petals dancing out. It’s a terrible sticker really. Why would anyone think it was a good idea to create something like that? But she ignores the thought because all she can do is trace the words and numbers on the back of the sticker.

She never bothered to remove the backing. Never bothered to put the sticker on her car or phone or anywhere else but in her favorite book. She doesn’t really know why.

But now she’s feeling the crushing blow of having lost another job. It’s not her fault. Not really. She can’t afford regular gas. She’s basically living out of her car. The only skirt she owns has bleach stains. And she’s still craving like it’s only been a day since her last hit.

Maybe it is her fault. Everything is after all.

But those numbers scribbled on the backing of the sticker are written so neatly, so carefully—it would be a shame not to put them to good use.

So she puts them into her phone and dials. It’s a miracle she still has a phone anymore honestly. Or a car. Or her favorite book.

“Hello?”

His voice is clipped. Aelin can tell how tired he is in that one word and the way it’s a sigh barely escaping his lips.

A small noise hisses out of her throat.

“Aelin.” It’s not a question. In the background she hears keys jingle and a door close and feet pounding on stairs. “Where are you?”

That is a wonderful question.

Somehow, Aelin realizes, she’s made it to her car. It’s sitting in the middle of the parking lot of the restaurant where she used to work. She knows that without the money she would have gotten from tips she won’t be able to buy gas.

Before she can force herself not to, Aelin is telling him where to find her. She’s promising that she’ll stay right there. She’s promising that she’ll stay on the line. Even as the panic seizes her and she is desperate. She is desperate for anything, anything, that will calm her down.

He arrives just as she’s manages to calm herself down.

I’m fine. It’s fine. Just breath. Deeper than that. Hold the air in. Slow. Slow. I’m Fine. I’m fine.

Aelin untangles her fingers from her seatbelt as he gets out of his car. As he walks over to her, she pulls her self out of the seat and leans against the car.

“You didn’t have to come,” she says quickly. “It’s fine. I overreacted.”

She just hopes the tear streaks on her cheeks aren’t that noticeable.

“Are you hungry?” He asks, completely dismissing her words.

Aelin stares at him.

“There’s a pizza place just down the road,” he continues. Rowan nods to the restaurant behind her. “I’m guessing that one will be on your blacklist for a while.”

Did he just try and make a joke? Aelin stares more intently.

“Come on,” Rowan says.

This time it’s more of an order and Aelin obliges.

When they’re seated at the pizza place with water and breadsticks in front of them, Aelin notices the watch on his wrist. Hot pink with Dora the Explorer on the face.

“What the hell is that?” She makes a face and stares at the watch.

Rowan glances down and shrugs. “A watch.”

“Smart ass. Why the hell do you still have it?”

“I need to tell time when I’m on shift and can’t pull out my phone.”

“It’s pink.”

“It’s a watch.”

She stares at him. He stares right back.

Who is this man? She wonders. Who is this man that is so arrogant and cold and confidant? Who is he, so calm and capable?

She hates him for it. Hates him that he seems to have moved on from his past. Hates him that he is so put together and not a wreck like her. I bet he doesn’t have panic attacks in his car. I bet he isn’t wondering the best way to cash in on his sobriety.

“You made it through the full sixty day run,” Rowan says, “you told me to keep track.”

“That was months ago,” she replies. She can’t help but to glare at him. But to hate him.

“And?” he presses. “How has it been?”

Aelin saves herself from responding by taking a long sip of water. She looks around the restaurant. It’s pretty small, but a cute place. It has wood paneling, checkboard tablecloth, and a jukebox in one corner. A family of four sits in one corner.

“Fine,” Aelin says. “Why do you care anyway?”

“Why’d you call me?” he returns.

Aelin doesn’t want to answer. If she answered she’d have to explain why she can’t call Lysandra. Which would lead into not being back in Terrasen. Which would lead into why she met him in that hospital so long ago.

“What made you move out to Wendlyn?” she asks instead. “Terrasen has a better medical program.”

“Family,” he says. Though, it comes out more like a growl. “Why would you move out to Wendlyn?”

“Family.”

Both answers are an admission. Both answers are pained. Both answers are lies.

She doesn’t know how it escalated from there. Between slightly hating him and slightly admiring him—Aelin talks with him every few days. Sometimes she goes a week or two. But she’ll always check in. He has become a friend of sorts to her. Which is good. Otherwise she’d be right back to where she starting at the beginning of their relationship.

But it’s not a relationship. It’s hardly anything at all.

Her phone rings at some unholy hour one night. Aelin doesn’t know why, but she answers it.

“Hello?” she scratches out.

She is met with his breathing. Unsure of what to do, Aelin remains quiet. Her phone presses into her ear with heavy force until she’s sure she’s going to break something.

“Rowan?”

He makes a strangled noise on the other side and she’s kicking off her blankets, dancing around her tiny room for her shoes.

“Rowan, I’m coming over,” she says.

“No.” The word is barely a whisper. “No. I’m at the hospital.”

She waits.

“There was an accident. Pregnant woman hit by a drunk driver. She stoked out on the table right before me. Just died. And the baby too. But that man…he just walked away. Cut on his head and some bruised ribs. He gets to walk away.”

Aelin wraps her fingers around her blanket tight enough her hand starts to hurt. He’s told her once about his high school sweetheart. Rowan was going to marry her. Not just because she was pregnant but because he believed she was his soulmate. The one. The only. The end.

She’d been hit by a drunk driver on her way home from his apartment.

That had been his end too. Drowning was the way he’d been determined to go. Drowning by alcohol.

“Rowan,” Aelin whispers. She wishes she was at his side. If only to hold his hand or catch his tears before they fell.

“Talk to me?” he begs.

She tells him about Lysandra. Her best friend. The reason she made it away from Arobyn and Clarisse alive. Then she talks about Aedion. A cousin she doesn’t even know if he’s still alive or not. She doesn’t talk about Sam though. Not now. But she talks about another friend whom she loved. Little Elide who first dreamed of running away. Aelin doesn’t know what happened to her, but she does know that’s where the idea first came from.

Be free. Run. Live.

Simple words. Simple ideas. And she tells him everything. Right up until the sun begins to rise.

“Thank-you,” he says when her voice finally gives out.

“Rowan?” she begins then pauses unsure of what she really wants to say.

“Yeah?”

Aelin wants to invite him over. Wants to say he can always come. Always call. He’s not alone. He never has been. But the words dry up in her throat unlike the tears that are slowly tracking down her cheeks.

“Good-bye,” she says instead.

“Good-bye.”

tags:

@ tottenhamboys20

#rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius #rowaelin #throne of glass #queen of shadows #kingdom of ash #the fanfic no one asked for continues #it's a slowburn even though nothing really happens my bad guys i tried #fanfiction #runaways

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