#also ‘Mari didn’t do it on purpose’

[yourqueenb]

Girl I—

[james-sunshine-potter]

Giving Marauder Era Character’s Birthdays and Star Signs

James- He has a birthday in canon, March 27th. Which makes him a Aries. Which honestly is fitting. I feel like he’d a lot of water placements as-well though. Definitely a water dominant table. Aries Sun, Scorpio Moon, Pisces Rising.

Sirius- Again, has a birthday in canon. November 3rd. Making them a Scorpio. Which, again, suits. I feel like that be their only water sign in their entire table though. Mainly fire and air signs. Not a single earth sign. Scorpio Sun, Gemini Moon, Aquarius Rising.

Remus- He’s also lucky enough for a birthday in canon (damn Peter really got unlucky on that), his birthday being March 10th. Pisces. Which checks out. He feels like a earth sign though. His Venus, Mars and Mercury are all fire signs. Pisces Sun, Virgo Moon, Taurus Rising.

Peter- He gives me cancer vibes honestly. Gives one of youngest in year vibes. He’s totally the youngest marauder though 100%. So I’m going to say July 11th. Cancer sun, Pisces Moon, Gemini Rising.

Lily- Again, poor Peter getting left out, as she also has a canon birthday. January 30th. So she’s an Aquarius. Which makes sense. I feel like in her entire table she’d have a lot of air signs. Aquarius sun, Gemini Moon, Cancer Rising.

Marlene- They gives me libra vibes. They’d be one of the eldest in the year. Getting late September vibes from them. September 29th. I feel like they’d have a lot of air signs in their chart. Libra sun, Aquarius Moon, Aries Rising.

Dorcas- Dorcas is a December baby. You can’t convince me otherwise. December 17th. I feel like she was due later but came early, she was meant to be a cap sun but was like a week early. She screams fire signs honestly. Sagittarius Sun, Capricorn Moon, Leo Rising.

Mary- She’s an Aries. You can’t tell me otherwise, she’s an Aries. Honestly, I feel like she’d have the same birthday as James. But James was a morning baby and Mary was a dinner baby, and that drives Mary insane. March 27th. Aries sun, Scorpio Moon, Virgo Rising.

Regulus- He’s a Capricorn. There is no way he’s anything else. He’d be a late December cap, and he prides himself on not being born in the same months as Snape. December 28th. Capricorn Sun, Cancer Moon, Virgo Rising.

Pandora- She’s an Aquarius. Obviously, what else would she be. She’s a Feb baby, like Luna. February 16th. Aquarius Sun, Libra Moon, Cancer Rising.

Frank- I get major Leo vibes from them. I have no idea why, I just do. They’d be one of the youngest in their year. August 10th. I feel like they’d have lots of earth and fire signs in their entire table. Leo Sun, Sagittarius Moon, Capricorn Rising.

Alice- Taurus. Hands down. No room for argument. They’re a May Taurus though, not an April Taurus. May 4th. Taurus Sun, Leo Moon, Virgo Rising.

[fxshigurosbae]

THE STRICT MAN . . .

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ toji fushiguro (40) x f!reader (18)

✶ mature content (minors do not interact) — pseudo!incest, step!cest, school!girl, virginity, dumbification, size kink, pet names, discipline, fingering, cunnilingus, humiliation, squirting, corruption, daddy kink, dilf, age gap, jealousy, manhandling, strong language.

this one is quite problematic and i apologize for it, deal with it however you want to i guess . . .

taglist | masterlist

a sweet eighteen year old high school girl. she is going back home, wearing the school’s cute uniform — on her way back to her step-daddy and older step-bro’s home, and mommy nowhere to be seen. the rules are pretty simple: she can’t have a boyfriend, she has strict curfew, no guy friends. yet, she’s extremely pampered, spoiled, and innocent… that’s you, you’re toji fushiguro’s cute step-daughter.

to your misfortune, you’re later than usual tonight . . .

leaving your mary janes at the entrance neatly and taking off your blazer, undoing the first few buttons of your shirt. you’re a little taken aback by toji already latched onto the couch, all spread out while watching the tv on mute. he doesn’t seem happy, but that’s also just his usual bitchy rest face. your delicate feet tip toe as in to stand behind the sofa, leaning over and giving the grumpy old man a wet kiss on the cheek, MWAH, with that strawberry lipgloss, mixed with the drool of the cherry lollipop you clumsy held on the other hand full of the bracelets toji gifted you, then putting a strand of your hair behind your ear in order to admire his profile better, despite the dim-lit room, with a wide cheeky smile of yours to add to the charm, and probably gain some mercy from him.

“where were ya, little miss? ya late.” he speaks in his deep usual lazy tone, eyes blank as they remain on the television. he’s wearing grey sweatpants and one of the thousand of black tight shirts he owns, which means he’s been home for quite a while now — what a deception he had when he realized you hadn’t arrived yet.

“had a project to work on, sorryyy.” you whine gently and honeyed, dragging out the last letters of the apology. then, walking to the front of the couch, seating down as your purposely flimsy short skirt puffs along and you prop the lollipop on your mouth in front of him innocently.

“at school? with who?” his face finally turns towards you slowly and uncaring, cold voice. his arms spreading wide against the back of the couch, his eyes focused on your doe ones that look up at him like a pitiful puppy.

“my classmates.” you purely reply, taking out the lollipop with a low POP before you speak, with a quick lick of your lips, all while watching him — he wonders if you’re doing it on purpose, but knowing you, he disagrees.

“where’d ya get that lollipop?” toji then asked, glancing down at your lips sucking onto the candy that has left your lips prettily reddish.

“a friend, he gave me a few, i shouldn’t have eaten so much sugar.” a slight pout surges on your pretty dolled face, with a slight devilish grin that’s almost mocking him. “sorry.” you add a few seconds later with a chuckle.

“he? ya should be apologizing for something else other than sum candy. didn’t i say i don’t wan’ ya to be friends with boys?” his voice is still flat, nosy but a little intimidating, his piercing eyes on you makes your little heart flutter, and your eyes shy away at the rebel action you committed. “‘m sorry…” you mumble, once again, discouraged to even lick more of the sweet lollipop, as you keep looking away, turning your body towards the tv now.

“were ya two alone? did he do anything to ya?” toji pressures rigidly as he rests his temple on his fingertips, and the same arm still on the headrest of the couch behind you, closely. turning his body towards you, and simply staring, analyzing is all he does. once he’s gotten a negative response to his question with a head shake from you still avoiding eye contact, the man remained quiet for a few seconds before leaving a low exhale. “i don’t believe ya, let me see for myself if ya lyin’.” as soon as toji demands, your cheeks warm up, and you now pout expressively, moving your earlier low head to now look at his eyes, all slowly, and he’s staring back intensely with a controlling and demanding aura. your cheeks burn. used to it, you leaned your head back onto the armrest beside you instead, lifting up your legs on the sofa cushion and holding the short skirt up, still with the drooled lollipop in one hand, while it almost drips and stains the white fabric of your skirt. there’s a small smirk on toji’s scarred lips as he focus on the middle of your legs, watching the slight wet trail on your pastel pink cotton thong as he towers over you with that huge figure of his, it’s even more intimidating than the way he talks.

“did ya get wet ‘cause of that boy? just ‘cause he gave ya some attention? popped a lolly or two out of his pocket? did he put ‘em in y’er mouth? don’t doubt it.” toji teases, his thumb dragging onto the hem of the panties, then right over your entrance. his emerald eyes shifting to yours, he’s watching your cheeks flush to pink but he knows it’s all innocent when it comes to you, after all, he’s made you think this is normal, and instead of making you blush from toji’s actions, the man has bred you into making your cheeks flush for the simple thought of the things he’s accusing you to have done . . . so, in other words, your mind doesn’t think that your step-father is doing something wrong, but you’re focused on imagining what he just said: about your guy friend putting the lolly in your pretty mouth, but why? it makes you feel dirty, because it sounds dirty coming from toji, so you get flustered, and he knows it, it’s his doing after all.

but you shake your head again and immediately, very shyly and quiet. “i think ya did, i’m gonna check if ya haven’t been a little slut and let him fuck ya. spread those fucking legs, sweetheart.” he demands firmly since your thighs threatened to close, and at the same time, his hand tapped your knee a little harshly for you to obey. yet, you flinched and ended up giving in, embarrassed and aware there was no way out of this.

toji’s fingers easily removed your thong, and you were so focused on his eyes that you couldn’t even see him putting it on his sweats’ pocket . . . for later. some slick almost dripped onto the couch, you were a little wetter than usual. toji tries to keep that neutral cold face as his lids narrow a little and maintain this controlling stare at your parts. his calloused hands spread your silky thighs even further apart, as his eyes kept focused onto your cute pussy, virgin pussy, taking in every single tissue and color.

he inhales deep and exhales restrainedly, the silence is loud as you can hear your heartbeat intensify, and your own breath hitch through your slightly parted lips. toji’s thumbs spread your folds widely, stretching the skin and you let out a very short unconscious moan. toji can see how moist you are, making his fingers almost slip, SQUELCH, he can almost feel the arousing warmth exuding onto his face as he leans closer, even feeling your legs tremble a bit at the sensitivity of his fanning breath, and the embarrassment of his face being so close. the man admires and looks at every muscle, noticing how he still can see the intact hymen — not being able to look inside the walls of your cunt as much as he spreads you out — which takes a sigh from him, leading your legs to twitch and your hole clench in response, even if not so much. the smirk he had before comes in again as he chuckles at your cute chaste reaction, your grip onto the hems of your skirt is tight and nervous, the lollipop in your hands is so close to slipping from your fingers, a string of the red sugar melting into your hand as your eyes are totally hypnotized onto the man facing your heating core.

“y’er princess’ pretty parts ‘pparently look aight, but that doesn’t mean nothing, i gotta be 100% sure, understand? i don’t trust ya no more.” he looks up to you, and your eyebrows knit in nervousness, slightly pinched nose and pouty lips, red cheeks and glowing pupils are such a sight for him. his eyes go excitedly back to your pussy, as he leans a little closer even, he’s invested, and the self-control this man has in on another level, toji’s almost licking his lips at the sight of his step-daughter’s pretty virgin cunt, how could he not, how could anyone not?

his middle finger — the thicker one — runs through your drenching slit, squelching again, sending shivers down your spine as the liquid refreshes your burning core skin, and your eyelids immediately shut down, toji silences a chuckle at that. the tip of his digit messes with the sensitivity of your hole, which aches a little, and he teases with a poke or two, making sure to take his time, as if he really was examining your cunt.

“look at me.” amidst the silence, his nasal deep voice resonates across the room lowly, and your eyebrows remain knit as your eyes open slightly to stare at him. “i needa see y’er face to know if y’er lying.” he begins, “have ya been a little slut with boys at school?” and even a little before he’s finished, your head immediately shakes NO and his eyes remain fixed onto your shy ones. toji’s finger continues feeling the small tight gummy ring of the opening of your cunny. “if i can tell y’er lying, ya in big trouble, miss.” he threatens slightly, your heart racing ten times faster because you know you haven’t.

yet suddenly, toji’s middle finger entered your pussy and your eyes shut down once again, letting out a silent lengthy moan — his cock is aching inside his sweats — you’re trying to close your legs together, and your head and shoulders shrugged like a turtle, gripping tight onto the hem of your skirt. “keep y’er legs open.” he demands monotonously, struggling to do so, they’re trembling at the slightly uncomfortable? feeling, since he’s never done this before.

“f-feels weird.” you mumble, clenching your pussy as he goes in a little deeper, and squeezing his only finger tightly. he’s stretching this freshly virgin pussy only a little bit and it feels almost impossible to fit it in, he’s having thousands of thoughts now.

“it’s nothin’.” he replies forcefully, manipulative, almost a little too eager too as he tries to glance between your contorted cute face and your drenching cunt, but his eyes keep moving to the latter. toji’s suffering inside, he’s miserable at how much restraint he is going through, and he’s almost groaning out lots of fucks and literally just fucking you right now. his finger goes a little deeper, your legs shaking a bit more and belly squirming and breathing heavily along with your chest, eyelids trembling as they remain closed and lips slightly parted, temptously leaving shy quivering hums. it’s an almost excessive reaction for such a small stimulation as this, but he has never ever gone this far, it’s entirely new, and you have never done this by yourself.

toji’s mean, and once his finger finds a good length, he instantly and not even hesitantly curls it upwards, finding something else that you have never even imagined, and it was so fucking easy, despite you being a virgin, but after all, toji . . . he has a curriculum. your hips move forward and up gently, you’re moaning unconsciously. you’re in another world, and to you, letting out those sounds is nothing wrong.

“aren’t you eager?” he mumbles under his breath, inaudibly, smirking and finally looking at your struggling face, you’re almost humping at his hand. “feels really weird, toji.” you repeat, panting like a puppy. “toji?” he fakes a little offended expression, “well aren’t you being a little rebel, little girl?” your head gets thrown back onto the armrest as you’re struggling to even listen to his words, and he’s up for more teasing as well. once you believed to have calmed down a bit and finally got used to his finger exploring inside your pussy, caressing that one specific spot for an unknown reason, something wet pressed against your clit. your eyes instantly flew to look down, and found toji licking your folds, having a hungry sloppy taste, SLURP. “w-what are you doing?” your half-lidded drunk eyes threaten to cross as his mouth muscle keeps running messy lazy slow circles over the nub.

“what else could i be doin’? i’m examining ya, taste test.” he lies shamelessly, and you accept it, hesitant still because this feels too good, and in your mind, you believe toji is actually just being a caring step-father and making sure you’re being kept in line. so, guilt is filling you entirely. firstly, for believing you were actually slutting yourself out. secondly, your hips now begin trying to hump his face subconsciously, and sweat starts to drip your forehead. you start to feel bad for trying to wrap your mind around what you’re feeling, and the desires is roaming your head constantly, though you’re unsure, quite unfamiliar with this concept. of course, toji takes notice of your failed disguised attempt of restraint, and he’s contemplating on whether it is a good idea to take advantage and corrupt you in this way so bluntly, just leading you on to believe on this facade . . . but he doesn’t care, because he loves you, and also, he’d never do you any harm either.

your breath is faster, as his finger keeps poking your g-spot, his tongue running laps over your clit, sucking and occasionally kissing it very subtly. he’s also drunk, but this time on your sweet pussy, because it’s just too addictive, too tempting to destroy and make it even more belonging to him. he wants to shape your cunt into his dick’s own personal bed, his cock’s own personal cave hole, fuck, he wants to see you under him all fragilely and begging to cum, to drop you off at school after he’s fucked you in the parking lot with his seed all the way into your womb, then have you walk down the hallways with the cum threatening to slip down your bare legs — that he knows guys stare at and fantasize, since he’s caught them doing it multiple times when picking you up — he wants you to beg for his cock on your knees as your step-brother is just down the hallway studying his ass off in his room. don’t worry, he knows he’s problematic.

but the way you look right now, the way his eyes are drowsy as he eats you out, the way his only finger is being sucked inside, it’s just heaven, and it’s more than he can take, it’s absolutely driving this old man insane. yet, it’s also the way your legs close and your pussy clenches intensely, along with a very specific louder moan coming our from your lips that he knows you’re on the edge, and perhaps, he achieved something greater. “toji, toji, feels so, s-so so weird.” your voice sounds a little more desperate, pulling onto your skirt and your legs almost smothering him, he’s looking up and trying to observe your face as you’re incessantly fidgety and squirmy, with doe sleepy eyes finally staring back and down at him. “oh yeah?” he only teases, barely moving an inch from your clit to speak, with his tongue out pressing down at the nerves, almost not even being able to make his words out. once in for all, without further stimulation, and so easily, his finger presses down a little more forcefully on the spot he’s been rubbing so gently inside, and it sends you over the moon. your head leans back swiftly and shaking legs wrap around his head firmer, as toji takes a deep breath in to try and relieve some tension, your eyes close and eyebrows knit more, with a loud cracking whine you SQUIRT against his face, and he pulls out his middle finger amidst to have it SPLASH onto his hand and cushion.

toji is mesmerized, addicted.

this man spreads out your legs and takes a quick exhale, feeling the blood being pumped to his cock thousand of times faster, and he’s dying to even rub his mere thumb over his pants, but his grip onto your wide-spread knees are keeping him from doing so. you’re panting and messily laying on the couch, sweating a little and staring up at him as he’s on his knees straight up on the cushion, looking down on you like a predator, a hunter. you are unaware, but suddenly, he breaks the unbreathable air with a smirk, and his eyes remain filled with lust, but at least, you feel less tense.

“knew ya were a good girl,” he praises, caressing your knees with his thumbs. “ya know, sweet thing, this means y’er body’s telling me that ya haven’t disobeyed me, ‘cause only virgins do that.” he starts, it’s blatant lie after lie, just planting brainwashing thoughts into your head over and over again. “i’ll know if ya have disobeyed me if next time i take a look at yer princess parts, ya don’t react like this,” look at him creating imaginary things. “i’ll know then that ya been a little whore, understand?”

he’s so childish, such a strict man.

fxshigurosbae © 2023 ! please do not upload my content on any platform that is not tumblr . . . { no plagiarism or translations }

🔖 @reiners-milkbiddies @lilithlunas @poesexual @sacvh @xdxdyg @missyasma @DelicatelyCraftedBambi @gorekuma

[zepskies]

Green

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x F. Reader, Ben and daughter!OC

Summary: Ben spends the day alone with his daughter, to varying degrees of success. When you get home, it prompts a serious conversation.

AN: Another one-shot for the BMD-verse, set sometime after "Until Morning" (you'll see). This can be read as standalone as well!

Word Count: 2,500 Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Father and daughter fluff, followed by husband and wife spice.~

Read more of the BMD-verse! ⤵️

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

Father and daughter were glaring at one another, gazes locked.

Green against green.

“Young lady, I’m telling you right now. I’m not gonna tolerate any more of your little attitude,” said Ben. “If you want to try me, be my guest.”

He held the ravioli poised on a pink plastic spoon. His daughter Lila sat in her highchair in the kitchen, boldly refusing any more of her lunch.

Her stubborn face reminded him entirely too much of you. But he needed her to eat. He wouldn’t have it said when you came home that he couldn’t feed a damn two-year-old.

He huffed. “Work with me here. Just a couple more bites.”

Lila made a shrill sound of refusal when the spoon came near her face. He knew she could use a spoon just fine. She was being difficult on purpose.

To demonstrate her resolve, she slapped at the ravioli with a chubby little hand, and it ended up splashing back into the bowl. A bit of red sauce splattered onto Ben’s cheek, with a pinch of it hitting his eye.

He blinked in annoyance. “Delilah Marie, I swear to Christ—”

She’s just a baby, a voice that sounded a lot like you infiltrated his mind. It still didn’t take away his aggravation.

“No!” Lila insisted. It was her favorite word, right behind Bluey.

She then pushed the bowl right off the highchair. It spilled ravioli and pasta sauce all over the floor in spectacular fashion. Ben was sitting in his own chair by the dining table, where he moved his feet back at the last moment. She almost got his Italian loafers.

“You gotta be f…” It took every scrap of patience within him to hold his tongue…and breathe calmly through his nose. He didn’t want to reward this destructive, disrespectful behavior, but he also knew that he needed his daughter to eat.

“Want some applesauce?” he said, as a peace offering.

Lila’s face scrunched.

“No applesauce, huh?” Ben muttered. He glanced at the mess across the highchair and the formerly white tile on the floor. “Your mother’s gonna have a conniption.”

“Mommy?” Lila asked. “Mommy’s home?”

“No, she’s not here right now,” Ben replied. “She’ll be home later.”

Lila seemed to understand, because that’s when she got upset again. Her red-stained finger drew a shapeless form in the sauce as she pouted. At least she wasn’t crying.

Ben sighed, once again, and stroked her cheek with his thumb.

Fuck it.

“You want some ice cream?” he bribed.

Her sadness dissipated at the thought; she smiled brightly and nodded. “Yeah!”

“Yeah, I thought so,” he grumbled.

After a scoop of strawberry ice cream for each of them (she liked it because it was pink), Ben wrangled her up out of the highchair and declared, bath time.

He did fine with the bathing process. He’d helped you with this before, and so he knew what to do in order to wash the sauce off her face, hands, and even her hair. It was what came after the bath that remained a problem.

Lila was stubborn beyond belief, even before she could articulate what it was about the soft green onesie that she didn’t like. No, she wasn’t satisfied until Ben pulled out the yellow Starlight themed pajamas. Probably because they had “Auntie Annie’s” face all over them.

He rolled his eyes, but this wasn’t a hill he needed to die on. He dressed Lila and tried to tuck her into bed for her afternoon nap. The problem was, she refused to lie still in the crib.

Instead, she was bouncing on the balls of her feet, using the edge of the crib for balance. He’d be impressed, if she wasn’t trying to climb out and give him a small heart attack.

He grabbed her and gathered her against his chest. Despite the super strength you’d temporarily displayed off and on throughout your pregnancy, Lila’s powers were latent at the moment. Dr. Baker seemed to think Lila would start to display them once she got old enough. Like Ryan, who hadn’t started growing into his powers until around 10 years old.

So for now, Lila was a mostly normal two-year-old who could still get hurt.

Ben frowned. “This is the time you usually go down. Why do you have so much energy?”

She just giggled at him and put both hands on his face, over his eyes.

“Daddy, guess who?”

He sighed, but couldn’t help smiling. As usual, he indulged her.

“Could it be my baby girl?”

He waited until her hands came away from his eyes, and he opened them wide.

“There she is!”

She squealed and giggled and grabbed his hair when he kissed her cheek. In the comfort of his own home, he could afford to be this openly affectionate.

Aw shit, he thought, as something occured to him.

He finally realized why she was so fucking hyper. Maybe it had something to do with the giant scoop of ice cream she’d had for lunch.

Goddamn it. Ben sighed and unwrapped her arm from around his head.

“Okay, let’s watch some TV.”

Lila didn’t seem all that interested in watching anything, or even playing with her toys. She mainly wanted to jump on Ben’s stomach while he was trying to relax on the couch. He put on a football game you taped for him. Or recorded, as you'd said.

“All right, enough. Your old man’s trying to watch the game,” Ben said, bringing Lila down to sit in lap.

That lasted for about two seconds. Thereafter, she was climbing up his chest and trying to smother him with her little hands.

He took her hand from his nose so he could at least breathe in peace.

“Where’s Mommy?” Lila asked, as she sat on his shoulder and beat a little fist on the top of his head.

“She’s with your aunt,” Ben replied. “Well, not your real one, the fake one.”

Lila made a sound of confusion. Realizing that she didn’t know what the hell he meant, he rephrased.

“She’s with your Aunt Annie. They’ll be back soon,” he said.

He didn’t mind you wanting a day out to yourself. What he minded was the attitude you’d struck when he suggested dropping Lila off with Louisa, your actual sister.

“What, you can’t handle her alone for one day?” you’d asked.

His pride hadn’t allowed him to say no to that.

So here he was, with a wily toddler who was doing her damndest to suffocate him. Better attempts than this had failed, but it was still annoying while he was trying to watch the game.

Somehow, he managed to tune it out while he watched the ref make a bad call.

“What was that?! You gotta be kidding me!” Ben said, holding Lila to his chest even as he pointed and shouted at the TV. “Son of a bitch. What a pussy call that was.”

“Bish, bish, bish,” Lila said, making a game out of the word. It called Ben’s attention.

He forgot about the game for a moment when he looked down at her. His eyes widened a fraction, even as a smile pulled at his lips.

“What’d you just say?”

“Bishhhhhh,” Lila repeated. “Somvabishhhh.” Her lips squished like a fish. And then she giggled, like it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard.

“Aw, fuck,” Ben uttered.

And he pressed his lips together with ever widening eyes at what he’d just said.

Lila grinned. “Fack!”

“Uhh, no. No. Don’t say that,” he said, trying to sound stern. Inside, he was trying not to laugh. He didn't really give a shit what she said, but you were particular about the kid not inheriting his vocabulary.

In fact, he was pretty sure you were going to go nuclear for this one.

“Why?” Lila asked.

“Because it’s uh…a bad word,” Ben replied, even though he wanted to roll his eyes at himself. This was what he’d become. A suburban dad.

"And it's not ladylike," he added.

“Fackkkk,” Lila giggled some more.

Christ on a cross. Ben bit the inside of lip hard to stop himself from laughing.

“Whatever. Just don’t say it around your mom,” he relented. He brushed his fingers through her soft brown hair. She preened at the attention, like the little showboat she was.

“Daddyyyy…” Lila wrapped her arms around his neck and snuggled as deeply into him as she could, like a koala clinging to a shaking branch.

Ben sighed and rubbed a hand up and down her back as he cradled her against him.

These were the moments he didn’t mind. In fact, these were the moments he did his best to remember. They helped block out the older, darker ones that this kid would never know.

Ben woke to the shutter of a camera going off.

He blinked his bleary eyes open to find you standing there with a highly amused smile on your face, and your phone poised in your hand.

He groaned, but he soon realized that Lila was sleeping in his arms, on his chest. You leaned down and rested a hand on her back. You also greeted him with a kiss to his temple.

“Long day?” you teased quietly.

Ben gave you a deadpan look, one that had you straining to taper down your giggles. Though he drew you closer by your hip and squeezed the soft flesh over your white sundress. He took you in with a lazy once-over.

You looked good. Sexy as hell, really. Your face was glowing and relaxed, and he liked the shade of red you’d done on your nails.

“You have a good time?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you replied, massaging his shoulder. Though you arched a brow. “There’s a catastrophe in the kitchen.”

Ben blinked.

Fuck. He forgot about that.

“Yep,” he said, giving you a teasing smirk of his own. “Right on time for you, baby.”

You chuckled, though your eyes narrowed in warning. “Yeah, right.”

You still helped him put Lila down in the nursery for the rest of her nap. She yawned and turned over onto her back. You pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, though you had to smile when it accidentally left the red mark of your lipstick behind.

You bit your lip and gently rubbed it off without waking her up. (An amazing damn feat, as far as you were concerned.)

Ben laid a heavy hand on your back, prompting you to straighten up and turn into his waiting embrace.

His lips curved as he looked down at you. “Hey.”

You laughed quietly. “Hey, yourself.”

Your hands glided up his chest, and further still to hold his face. You brought him down to kiss you, with your fingers slipping into his hair, and your nails dragging along his scalp. He hummed into your mouth.

“Miss me?” you teased.

Ben huffed. As usual though, his answer was in his actions. He held you close for a moment, just to feel you there.

Your arms slipped around his, clinging to his shoulders as you rested against him. This was your safe, comfortable place where you always felt at home.

But, you couldn’t help but break the spell.

“Come on. Clean up on aisle 12,” you quipped, reaching around to smack his ass.

Ben rolled his eyes, but when you pulled away from him, he followed you into the kitchen.

“You know, I had a lot going on. Your kid is a fucking menace,” he said. “Like a bull in a China shop.”

You scoffed. “She’s only my kid when she gives you a hard time. Where do you think she gets it from?”

“You,” he retorted.

You had to laugh at that one. It still didn’t get him out of helping you clean the kitchen from top to bottom.

After a long shower, waking an errant child from her nap, dinner, and a joint effort of getting Lila to sleep for the night, Ben joined you in bed wearing just his usual sweatpants.

You’d opted for some black satin, he noticed.

Good, he thought, for the night to come. You’d spent the whole day getting massaged and moisturized and whatever else women did on a day out.

When he rolled onto his side, you greeted him with a smile and a hand running up his arm, already pulling him toward you. His hand glided along your bare thigh as you hooked it over his hip.

“I need to tell you something, but you’ve gotta promise not to say anything to anyone,” you whispered in the small space between his face and yours, and you tapped his chin.

Ben raised a brow and squeezed your thigh. Whatever it was, couldn’t it wait until long after he’d undressed you?

“What?” he asked.

“Annie’s pregnant!” you said with a wide smile. “Six weeks. She just told me today.”

Ben blinked at that one. “Is it Hughie’s kid?”

“Wha…of course, it is!”

“Wow. Guess he had it in him after all,” Ben remarked. “Who woulda thought.”

You shook your head, but his grin made you laugh.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, through your remaining giggles, though you leaned forward and stole a kiss. It led Ben to want more, and more of you.

He started to ply you with slow, lazy kisses that grew deeper, becoming all-consuming as his tongue warred against yours. His hands dove under the satin covering your body, and his thumbs brushed the sides of your breasts.

“Maybe it’s time we go for number two,” he said.

You uttered another incredulous laugh, gripped a fist in his hair and tugged. “Excuse me?”

“You fucking heard me,” Ben said. He rolled you onto your back and pinned you there. “Ain’t no way we’re stopping at one. Lila needs a brother.”

“You can’t even handle one,” you teased. Your hands slid up his arms and then down his chest. “Baby, we can talk about having more kids, but—”

“And? We’re talking now,” he said. He dipped his head to start kissing a hot, wet line down your neck. It made your breath falter and your back start to arch. Your hips shifted against his, trying to find friction. You could feel his length hardening against your thigh.

“Ben,” you warned, and implored, but the graze of his teeth on your neck made you shudder.

Your grip on his arms tightened. “Please…”

“Please what?” he smirked against your skin. His hips rocked against your heated core.

This conversation was going into a no man’s land very fast.

You literally took matters into your own hands…by reaching down and grasping your husband’s cock through his sweatpants. You gave him a demanding squeeze.

His breath hitched. Ben paused, unlatching from your neck, and turning his lips toward your cheek.

“I’m listening,” he said, in a gritted voice. You smirked.

“We can, and we will talk about this,” you promised. “Just not when you’re about to be balls-deep inside me.”

You were back on birth control anyway (the pill this time).

Ben chuckled. His hand reached up and smoothed your hair away from your forehead.

“Fine,” he conceded. A smirk grew across his face. “But we can still practice.”

A giggle fell from your lips, just before he claimed them once again.

AN: A little callback to the BMD Epilogue at the end there. 😂

What did you think about the father/daughter time? And do you think Ben won against either of the ladies in his life? 🤣

Keep Reading in the BMD-verse:

Coming up next, in a drama-filled episode, you and Ben do what you two do best in Calculated Risks:

Summary: You and Ben argue about your commitment to being a working mom. When a rogue supe gets loose at Supe Affairs, mayhem ensues, putting not only your life at risk, but your daughter’s as well.

▶️ Keep Reading: Calculated Risks

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

BMD Tag List (Part 1):

@this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @mrsjenniferwinchester @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26 @spnwoman @syrma-sensei @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @muhahaha303 @123passwort

@xoxoviennaa @katherineann814 @lollag0w0 @globetrotter28 @nancymcl @ashbatz @secretdreamlandmentality @kristophalis @wonderland2022 @emily-winchester @shelh93 @sl33pylilbunny @spoonmynoodle @chernayawidow

@buckybarnes-1917 @asgardprincess97 @sometimes-i-sing @itsyellow @karnellius @kimberleymjw @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @iamsapphine @sanscas @se-fucking-hun @lassie-bird @jessjad @yepimthatperson @fromcaintodean @stoneyggirl2

@spnfamily-j2 @im-a-slut-for-fluff @lacilou @venicesem @mimaria420 @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @tearsfortheyouth @agalliasi @chriszgirl92 @kazsrm67

[wordsbyrian]

Would you pls do a Mary earps imagine with them filming TikTok’s together and being otp x

A/n: Not exactly what you asked for but close enough i think.

TikTok is the bane of your very existence.

It’s the bane of your professional life as a chef because everytime you turn around one of your crew is using prep time to make a concoction and upload it to that godforsaken app.

And in your personal life?

Well, in your personal life, it feels like every time you blink you're being sucked into filming one of those stupid videos with your girlfriend.

The first time it happened, you were barely even sure what was going on.

The two of you had been getting ready to go on a date to a relatively nice restaurant, when she pulled up in front of her phone’s camera so she could show off what you were wearing.

That had been the beginning of the madness (as well as a very hard launch of your relationship to the public).

It didn’t really matter what you were doing, if Mary had decided that a video needed to be filmed, it’d be filmed.

A literal walk in the park. TikTok.

You driving. TikTok.

You tearing a member of the kitchen staff a new one. TikTok. (Although she’d been asked not so politely by the head chef to never do that again).

You cooking in your shared flat. TikTok.

Hell, she even made a TikTok of you sharpening your knives, a task you find completely mind numbing.

And if having your every move recorded wasn’t bad enough, she also had you joining her in filming one of the more popular trends. You mouthing along to the silly sounds that are currently popular on the app. Or worse, dancing, you hate the dancing.

Asking how often you think about the Roman Empire (only as often as you need to).

Throwing herself fully clothed into the shower  and singing Taylor Swift while you were trying to brush your teeth.

Making you record a two second clip of everytime you changed clothes while on vacation.

The list is neverending.

Which is why you should be more alarmed when you see her walking into the kitchen  with her phone out but you’re too focused on chopping the vegetables you’ll be using in your meal prep.

 “Baby,” she says.

“Hmm?”

“Can we record a TikTok?”

“Can I keep doing what I’m doing,” you ask in return, still not looking up from the cutting board.

“You don’t need to do anything but stand there and look pretty,” Mary says as she sets her phone up next to you. “And answer questions,” she adds as an afterthought.

You roll your eyes but don’t make any additional comments as you see her hit record.

“So a ton of you have been asking in the comments how my wife manages to be a professional chef when she has so many food allergies,” Mary says, looking directly at the camera. “And I figured it was better if I just let her explain it. Babe?”

Admittedly, you hadn’t really been listening to every word that she had been saying, only really listening to every word that she had been saying, only really catching the words ‘allergies’ and ‘professional chef’, which is a topic you get asked about a lot. So you just answer without really thinking.

“My main allergies are seafood, peanuts and treenuts. And since I’m one of 2 or 3 sous on any given night, I just,” you pause, “wait, what did you just call me?”

You can feel cheeks heating up as your brain finally processes what just happened.

“What? Babe?”

Mary’s playing dumb on purpose. She knows it. You know it. And you both know that the other one knows.

“Not that, the other thing.”

“What my wife,” she asks.

A cheeky grin breaks out on Mary’s face as she watches even more color rush to your face.

For you, when she repeats it, you suddenly feel like you can barely breathe and you know that your next words come out a little choked (much to Mary’s amusement.)

“Yup, that.”

As calmly as you can manage, you put your knife down and take off your apron before walking out of the kitchen.

“Wait, where are you going?”

“I have to find my wallet and keys,” you shoot back.

“Why?”

“I gotta go buy a ring before you change your mind!”

The sound of her laughter is the only thing you hear as you close the door behind you.

The video is up on that cursed app by the end of the week.

A photo of the ring on Mary’s finger goes up just a few hours before.

[3rdeyeblaque]

On September 10th we venerate Elevated Ancestor, Voodoo Queen of Louisiana, & Saint, Marie Catherine Laveau on her 222nd birthday 🎉

[for our Hoodoos of the Vodou Pantheon]

Marie Catherine Laveau was a dedicated Hoodoo, healer, herbalist, & midwife who, "traveled the streets [of New Orleans] like she owned them", as the most infamous Voodoo Queen of New Orleans.

Marie C. Laveau I was born a "Free Mulatto" in today's French Quarter in what was then, New France); to a mother & grandmother who were both born into slavery & later freed via freedom papers. It is believed that she grew up in the St. Ann Street cottage of her maternal grandmother.

She married Jacques Santiago-Paris, a "Quadroon" "Free Man of Color", who fled as a refugee from Saint-Domingue, Haiti from the Haitian Revolution in the former French colony . After his passing, she became known as "The Widow Paris". She then worked as a hairdresser catering to White families & later entered a domestic partnership with a French nobleman his death. She excelled at obtaining inside information on her wealthy patrons by instilling fear in their servants whom she either paid or cured of mysterious ailments. Although she never abandoned her Catholic roots, she became increasingly interested in her mother’s African traditional beliefs. The Widow Paris learned her craft from a ‘Voodoo doctor’ known variously as Doctor John or John Bayou.

Marie C. Laveau I is said to have intiated into Voodoo career sometime in the 1820s. She's believed to be descended from a long line of Voodoo Priestesses, all bearing her same name. She was also a lifelong devout Catholic. It didn’t take long before Marie C. Laveau I dominated New Orleans Voodoo culture & society before claiming title of Queen. She was the 3rd Voodoo Queen of NOLA - after Queen Sanité Dédé & Queen Marie Salopé. During her decades tenure, she was the premier beacon of hope and service to customers seeking private consultations - to aid in matters such as family disputes, health, finances, etc, created/sold gris gris, perforemed exorcisms. While her daughter Marie II was known for her more theatrical displays of public events, Marie C. Laveau I was less flamboyant in her persona. She conducted her work in 3 primary locations throughout the city: her home on St. Ann Street, Congo Square, & at Lake Pontchartrain. Despite one account of a challenge to her authority in 1850, Marie C. Laveau I maintained her leadership & influence.

The Queen died peacefully in her sleep in her ole cottage home on St. Ann Street. Her funeral was conducted according to the rite of the Catholic Church & in the absence of any Voodoo rites. To her Voodoo followers, she's venerated as a Folk Saint. In² addition to her Priesthood in Voodoo and title of Queen, she is also remembered for her community activism; visiting prisoners, providing lessons to women of the community, & doing ritual work for those in need.

She is generally believed to have been buried in plot 347, the Glapion family crypt in Saint Louis Cemetery No. 1, New Orleans. As of March 1st, 2015, there is no longer public access to St. Louis Cemetery No. 1. Entry with a tour guide is required due to continued vandalism & tomb raiding.

We pour libations & give her💐 today as we celebrate her for her love for & service to the people, through poverty, misfortune, bondage, & beyond.

Offering suggestions: flowers + libations at her grave, catholic hymns, holy water, gold rings/bracelets, money

‼️Note: offering suggestions are just that & strictly for veneration purposes only. Never attempt to conjure up any spirit or entity without proper divination/Mediumship counsel.‼️

[choccy-milky]

bruh i need to vent about a rude comment i got on my recent chap and also about clora, cuz its something thats been on my mind for a while now. it has spoilers to my most recent chap tho so im putting it below

so in my most recent chap clora gets hit by the killing curse but thanks to seb sacrificing himself for her, it doesn’t work/she survives. and I got a rly rude comment about how that’s super cringe and that clora is a "shoe horning of every possible manifestation of Mary-Sueism I have ever seen." theyre dropping my fic after almost 500k words bc apparently THAT’S where they draw the line and that "just somehow pulling it out the bag and surviving a killing curse from the power of love. In simpler terms, it’s absolutely cringe worthy" and "forgive me if I rolled an eye at the yet again invincible nature of Clora Clemons-the-one-eighth-Veela-extraordinaire"

BUT LIKE LMAO TELL ME U DIDN’T READ/WATCH HARRY POTTER WITHOUT TELLING ME. that’s literally what happens to harry??but its only cringe when it happens to our "mary-sue" clora? like yeah sure love magic might be a bit cringe but IM LITERALLY JUST PULLING FROM THE SOURCE MATERIAL. of all the things to take issue with in my fic and interpretations, theyre taking issue with something that’s canon BAHAHA.

and since im on the topic of clora being mary sue can I just say I hate the misogyny/internalized misogyny that i've seen some people (NOT A LOT, THANKFULLY) treat her with. like i get it, im not pale and blonde and as conventionally pretty as clora is, but even if I was, is that a reason to hate me?? and does being beautiful and well-liked = mary sue? bc as far as I know, mary sue is a chara who is just naturally amazing at everything and doesnt need to try hard and theyre just inexplicably great for no reason (like mc in the base game BAHHAA) if anything the mary sue in MY fic is seb LMAO (but hes a boy so its ok). like clora has worked hard and studied magic all her life due to being a squib and wanting to make up for not being able to DO it. she isnt good at flying, seb is still better at her than duelling, shes really short sighted when it comes to doing/thinking whats best for others and can be a huge idiot.... and like. the only guys that have even shown interest in clora on a real scale have been seb and leander (and then lawley for blackmail purposes, and also bc he hates seb) so its not like literally everyone is falling over themselves for her?? like her interactions with the main cast of boys (ominis, garreth, amit) theyre all indifferent to her LMAO but still, the fact that shes pretty and guys here and there might look at her and go o shes cute! doesnt make her a mary sue SORRy thats just called being attractive idk its just annoying that ppl automatically see a nice kind beautiful female character without any VISIBLE flaws and go SHES TOO PERFECT!! MARY SUE!! WAH IM JEALOUS! and like I get it bc when I was younger I probs would have been annoyed by clora as well due to my own insecurities and internalized misogyny but hey, how about u just realize that’s ur own problem and your own jealousy, and not a real one HAHAH anyway ive since evolved bc I used to be a ‘not like other girls’ type girl back in highschool. trying to be super tomboy-y bc I thought being feminine was cringe and too basic but now ive embraced it and love girly things and dresses and charas like clora who are still strong and showcase their strengths and weaknesses in subtler ways, and I want to smooch her and make out with her. get behind me clora ill protect you🤺🤺🤺

[queer-ragnelle]

I'm honestly kinda disgusted by the way a lot of authors just seeped their misogyny onto Guinevere to make her so horrible, lol. effectively destroyed a lot of people's view of her and she gets blamed for everything?? people keep shitting on her, saying Lancelot should be shipped with "someone better" and I'm just really annoyed because.. Guinevere is horribly characterized by these weirdos authors 💀. It does not take much to portray her as a complex character while also not making her shitty on purpose because you don't like her for her affair, lol.

I love her so much and it's disappointing how she's been treated :(( which is why I'll never be able to hate Guinevere or her ship with Lancelot

My friend it’s honestly so exhausting at this point. It’s not even limited to writing Guinevere herself as insufferable, but writing other characters behaving worse toward her than they ever were in medlit. Arthur hitting and degrading her when he cheats on her? (Warrior of the West by M. K. Hume) Lancelot using her for political gain and never loving her at all? (Enemy of God by Bernard Cornwell) Owain blocking her passage as she flees danger? (Legend in Autumn by Persia Woolley) Agravaine threatening to rape her? (The Road to Avalon by Joan Wolf) Gawain threatening to rape her? (Guinevere by Lavinia Collins) WHO are these characters bro you got me fucked up!!! The subtext here is that the authors hate Guinevere (read: women) so much they’re willing to warp everyone around her to treat her like garbage!!!

“Guinevere is bad because she has sex outside marriage.” Yeah so does Arthur. He fucked his own sister. In the dark. Leading her to believe he was her husband. So there’s Mordred, but there’s also Loholt and Arthur the Less etc. Arthur has many bastards from his extramarital affairs. (Vulgate and Post-Vulgate) Yet he isn’t canceled. Hm. Wonder what the difference could be? Let’s investigate. Seems authors treat Morgause and Morgan similarly to Guinevere. Gee, what is the common denominator here? Meanwhile in medlit, Morgause didn’t commit any crimes—she didn’t rape Arthur to have Mordred, she never neglected her children, she never cheated on Lot, and she didn’t prey on young men, she had ONE consistent lover who was younger than her AFTER her husband died. And she was murdered for it. (Post-Vulgate) Yet every other author writes her as a rapist (The Once and Future King by T. H. White), child grooming (The Wicked Day by Mary Stewart), pedophile (The Book of Gaheris by Kari Sperring), trying to put one of her sons on the throne (many examples). Now, Morgan is evil. But not for lewdness, for trying to murder people. In literally every source. Hello. It’s very simple. These authors are ridiculous. They care more about highlighting their opinion that fictional women having sex is BAD than writing a good story. When there are plenty of actually bad things happening in medlit they could condemn instead. You know, like the misogyny? Burning Guinevere at the stake??? You couldn’t make this up. It’s the utter disdain for the material for me. Assuming these dumbasses are even reading the material. Write something else where I can’t see it. (To be clear, I don’t even hate all the books I listed as examples, but they are unfortunately examples.)

Thankfully I haven’t encountered the blogger discourse regarding this. At least not lately. My advice to anyone who sees people shitting on something you like is to block them. Just do it. Fuck that noise. It’s not worth it.

Also I have to laugh at ship discourse about Guinevere/Lancelot. Of all pairs! It’s so unserious. They’re not some random comphet duo from the newest tumblr trending fandom. They’re mythological characters from a medieval literary tradition. Lancelot was created for her. In the 12th century. That was 900 years ago. It feels juvenile to reduce them to ship discourse. Especially because the story is fluid, it can be reshaped to fit the author’s narrative. So if Guinevere sucks, it’s because they made her that way. This is the epitome of making up a girl to be mad at.

“Oh but in Knight of the Cart—” Shh stop talking. If you’re pulling out KotC like some “gotcha” about Guinevere’s treatment of Lancelot, then you’re lost, buddy. You may be seeking entertainment in the wrong place! Guinevere and Lancelot aren’t real. Nobody was “abused” because they’re characters, narrative tools, to tell a story. Guinevere is flawed. Nobody ever said she wasn’t. If that’s too much complexity for you then I don’t know what else there is to say.

Honestly? Nobody is obligated to like Guinevere. I think it’s stupid to dislike her but the real take away is—if you dislike Guinevere so much, hate her even, why the are you writing so poorly about her? She’s as old a character as Arthur himself. Show some fucking respect or get out.

Anyway I’m going to end this with a recommendation! Today I started the third book of Sharan Newman’s Guinevere trilogy. The first two, Guinevere and The Chessboard Queen were utterly AWESOME!! Lots and lots of named women, like Guinevere’s mother Guenlain, Cador’s wife Sidna and daughter Lydia, Guinevere’s handmaiden Risa, and so on. The one downside is Morgause and Morgan are your typical modern retelling baddies, but overall it’s two thumbs up from me. Many points of view, but Guinevere is fascinating and complex and most importantly she is beloved!!!!!! Really hoping it stays enjoyable through to the end. Miss Newman is still in print, so I encourage everyone to seek these books out at your local library or from your favorite bookseller. Here’s a quote from book 2, The Chessboard Queen.

[aleebeesplats]

Soul bond[OUTDATED]

“An eternity alone is a cruel thing to be subjected to. To be surrounded but isolated, heard but forgotten, so powerful, yet so weak at the same time. The story is your life, but is that really all there is to it? Is that why you did it? Allowed them to exist despite the obvious growing issue? You wanted to feel understood despite not knowing who you were or where you began. You’ve crafted life at the expense of their freedom. You’ve replicated freedom through life.”

More info about this au under cut

This really started as a joke cuz I wanted to draw more Stan and Mari friendship art but as god has it it’s not so much a joke anymore(yay). This whole AU centers around Stanley and Mariella “becoming human”.

Character refs for Stan and Mari. I might change some stuff up with their colors and designs but this is the main idea for now.

In this AU Mariella now works in the same building as Stanley and her job is to attend meetings. Employee 317 did this everyday of every month of every year. She first meets Stanley while waiting for those who were supposed to attend, surprised and confused at the sudden disappearance of everyone.

Mariella and Stanley are creations of the Narrator, so they don’t look exactly human because of that.

(They have normal noses in side profiles)

I was inspired by Friday Night Funkin for their stylized faces. In terms of expression they are much more animated in comparison to the Curator or the Narrator.

Speaking of Nar-Nar, here’s the man himself. His first form is more like a “concept” than an actual “appearance” as he didn’t really care about what he looked liked and cared more about getting through with the story. His current form is much more human and he often spends time in it outside of the parable in his office. I wanted to keep his figure blocky and sharp cuz I went by squares as his main image.

Now the Parable wouldn’t be anything without the building, lo and behold “Coworker”.

I suck at drawing buildings, but for all you need to know for now is that it always expanding in the inside (where the story takes place), and also it is alive, capable of thought and emotion to some extent. Yayyy living infrastructure.

Some additional early sketches I made while trying to figure out stuff.

I thought it would be funny if Nar and Curie dated for a week before realizing they swung different ways. Things are good between them but it’s a little awkward at times. I was stuck between making Nar-Nar an eldritch creature or just an old man, but then again why can’t he do both.

Quick height chart doodle. The egotistical old man strikes once again, he really made himself so tall because he thinks it’s funny being able to see over people’s heads. In a way they look like Kirby to him.

That’s it for now. I’ll try to not burn myself out so that I can draw more for this au. It seems shallow right now but that’s on purpose‼️

Also, none of the things I draw in this AU are meant to be romantic. They are Queer-platonic at most. This is just me exploring bonds in hard times +what it means to be human (self-projecting like hell).

[inuyashaluver]

Hey, I have an idea for a Maybe you could do something with asthma where the reader gives her best during training or something but it got worse and then Guro helps reader ???

You don’t have to write it with Guro you can chose who you write for

Thankss

here for you - niamh charles

niamh charles x reader

description: in which reader has asthma and pushes themselves to their limit, resulting in a minor asthma attack, thankfully, your girlfriend knows exactly what to do

warnings: asthma attack, comfort, slight self loathing but very brief, lovesick idiots

a/n: hellooo, thank you so much for the request, I also have asthma so this was quite funny hehe, hope you enjoy! btw - lovely person who requested this asked for niamh instead!!

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

asthma was something you struggled with all your life. it was always recommended that sport would allow you to benefit from the disease and expand your lung capacity, thankfully, your parents put you in soccer young - resulting in you getting signed to chelsea and the lionesses.

you met your girlfriend, niamh in the lioness youth teams, mainly acquainted until she got signed to your club, chelsea. you both began to grow closer to one another, steadily forming into a relationship after both of your pining and a steady push from your friends.

niamh knew about your asthma, she frequently got anxious thinking about you being in a vulnerable state. she always had your medication on her person just in case. especially now, since you were overseas at national camp, there is no way she would let anything happen to you. proven on your team walk in a foreign city.

“niamh, baby, you don’t have to carry my medication for me, I feel bad”

“I know babe, I just want to be extra prepared, what if something happens to you? also, you don’t need to feel bad about anything, silly”

she grabbed your hand in hers and lightly swung them back and forth, smiling down at you and placing a quick kiss on your lips.

you placed your cheek on her shoulder, lightly cuddling into her as you walked. after a lovely moment in solitude, you hear people behind you grimacing. you both turn to face milly and mary gagging,

“ugh we get it! you’re in love, good for you!” mary makes kissing noises at both of you. you look up at niamh again, “it is good for us isn’t it, baby” she leaned down and pulled you into a longer kiss, purposely stopping in front of them to hear their continued grimaced noises. you giggled when she pulled away and you bumped your shoulder with her own.

“you’re silly, niamhy baby”

“only for you, my girl” she smiled, shaking her head at you, giggling.

it was time for training, the final match was slowly approaching, meaning training was getting more intense and the girls are getting more serious.

everything was going well at first. everyone was doing training drills and light laps around the training grounds. you and niamh always partnered up for drills, she wanted to keep and eye on you but you were also both so incredibly obsessed with each other that any amount of separation was painful.

while the team was doing their laps, niamh noticed your laboured breathing, much heavier than it would be regularly. her alarm bells ringing as she looks at you concerned.

“hey, baby, how about we stop for a sec and have a drink hm?” she asked, slowing down to walking instead of jogging.

“niamhy, I’m okay” you breathe out,

“you’re not though, baby, please?”

“I promise I’m okay, beautiful, I’ll have a drink after we’re done.” you sped up and ran past her, you felt guilty that all she was focusing on was you and felt some separation from her would ease her worries.

she frowns watching you run away from her, watching you catch up to ella, alessia and maya. she decided to give you your space, as much as it was hurting her, she didn’t want to stress you out. she put her hand on your puffer in her pocket, squeezing it slightly, thoughts racing through her mind. she was stressed, and she couldn’t focus.

during the mini match, you were placed on the opposite team. you actively avoided niamh, still feeling extremely guilty that she felt that she was responsible for you. you’re stress and the intensity of the game had you struggling to breathe. you were standing with your hands on your hips while the play was going on. you couldn’t breathe. alessia, placed on the same team as you grabbed your arm and told you to sit down.

you were coughing and wheezing uncontrollably, you were having an asthma attack. niamh’s worst nightmare. she immediately sprinted over to you.

“(y/n/n)?” alessia asked “are you okay, love?”

you shook your head.

“need-” you breathe out, “niamh-”you continued to cough. you felt alessia move off you as niamh arrived where you were.

niamh took the puffer out of her pocket, kneeling in front of you.

“baby” she exhaled “baby, try and take a deep breath for me” she made eye contact with you

the girls moved away from the both of you, wanting to give you and niamh your space, this didn’t mean they weren’t looking at you concerned from a distance.

niamh directed the puffer into your mouth, placing a hand on your knee and lightly rubbing her thumb against it.

“breathe in, baby,” you inhale the medication, taking four breaths, “good girl baby, okay three more”

she administered the medication to you, your breathing finally regulated.

“well done, baby! all better?” you nodded at niamh but instantly started to cry.

“niamhy, baby” you cry out, tears frantically running down your face.

“what’s wrong, lovey?” she grabbed your face in between her hands, wiping the tears off your cheeks

“I’m so sorry” you shook your head in between her hands, closing your eyes tightly.

“hey, hey, hey, baby” she moved your head upwards in her hands, “(y/n), look at me, love, come on” she only called you your first name when you were in trouble, or you were in a serious situation

you open your eyes to look at her pouting,

“what are you sorry about?”

“that i'm a burden to you, you always have to look out for me and i’m making you miserable.”

she looked at you in disbelief, she was so upset at your words, her own tears brimming in her eyes.

“you listen to m,e (y/n) (y/l/n), you are never a burden to me, nor are you making me miserable, how could you even say that. you’re my girlfriend and I love you.” she spoke, not stuttering on any of her words.

“ if I didn’t want to take care of you, I wouldn’t. but guess what, baby, I do want to look after you. and I will for the rest of my life. my baby girl. don’t speak about yourself like that. it hurts me”

“is this why you’re distancing yourself from me?” you nodded at her with a pout. she looked right into your eyes. a tear ran down her cheek. you moved up to kiss it away and pulled her down into a tight embrace. crashing you down to the floor, her lying on top of you.

“I’m so sorry, baby” you spoke into her neck.

“if you apologise one more time I won’t hesitate to beat you up”

you laugh at her, she moves to slightly straddle your waist.

“I’m always here for you, okay?” you nod at her

“me too, baby” she puts her pinky out to you and you link your own with hers. smiling gently at each other.

“I like this position” you wink at her,

“cheeky” she shakes her head at you. she moves off you and grabs your hands to pull you up.

niamh pulls you into another tight hug. she whispers in your ear. “at least wait till we get back to the room.” her hand was on your lower back, beginning to move lower and lower.

“niamh charles! who’s the cheeky one now!” you exclaim, moving slightly to keep her at arms length.

“you love it, don’t lie.” she laughs when you don’t decline, giving you a loving, short kiss, communicating all her love and affection.

“alright you two! enough!” millie, your chelsea teammate expresses, “i can’t escape both of you.”

niamh picks you up bridal style and you yelp, quickly wrapping your arms around her neck. the entire team was smiling at the both of you, loving that your love was so genuine for each other.

“it’s not my fault, mills, she’s obsessed with me” niamh calls out, walking over to the rest of the team and placing you on the ground.

“no denying that, charles” you say, feeling her arms wrap around you and resting her head on your shoulder.

“okay, (y/l/n), sit down for a couple minutes and freshen up, you can join in a little later” sarina says, “the rest of you back to work!” she smiles at you and you go to move to the bench, stopped by niamh’s grip. you laugh and hold her hands and she places multiple pecks on your neck.

“charles! that means you too!” sarina yells, “I’m going! I’m going!” sarina and you both laugh at her antics.

she grabs your head with her hands again, peppering your entire face with kisses and finally landing on your lips, giving you a little kiss.

“love you, bye!” niamh gives you cheek a squeeze,

“I love you too, niamhy baby, off you go” giving her a light tap on her backside as she runs away from you.

“cheeky!” she yells out, running backwards and giving you a wink.

she managed to score a goal, pointing her finger at you. “for my baby!” you shake your head at her and blow her a kiss and she returns the gesture.

on the bus home, you both fell asleep, cuddling up to each other on the way to the hotel. everyone was gushing over you two, equally loving your relationship, you were in love and everyone couldn’t be happier.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

for the sake of the fic, this is you and not tooney (TOONEY I LOVE YOU)

liked by alessiarusso99 and 44,232 others

niamhcharles17: I love my girl ❤️ @/yourname

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yourname: niamhy baby!

↳ niamhcharles17: my baby!

↳ mbrighty04: sick of both of you

↳ niamhcharles17: @/yourname and I will make sure to be extra affectionate just for you

↳ yourname: cheeky!!

[ofbluesandyellows]

Blueberry Wednesday - TASM! Peter Parker / Fem! Reader

Summary: Peter has a new noisy neighbor and he doesn't know how to deal with that -including bright plates and tasty food.

Word count: 2,086

a/n: Hiya! This is a new little thing that came to mind a few days ago, it's so nice to be back to share something with you. Hope you enjoy it let me know if you want to read more :)

Peter had been living in this new apartment for a few months now, the building was nicer than the last, the hot shower worked fine and the electricity didn’t have that buzzing sound that made his migraines unbearable. It was in an okay area and it was close to where he worked.

His life had been monotonous for the same amount of time too, maybe even longer, waking up, shower, coffee, work, lunch, patrol, kick some ass, fix his wounds —when needed—, sleep and back to square one. Peter didn’t feel the need of anything at the moment, Mary Jane had broken up with him for the second time, and even when he was heartbroken, and cried to sleep when he missed her, he was not pushing her to accept him back, he knew it was for the best. Pushing everyone away was the thing he was masterful at. 

But this banging and screeching coming from the floor on top of his was causing his body to flinch every time that mother fucker sound appeared. His jaw clenched, his fist tightened. Peter had given whomever this person was, about an hour to come to their senses but this was enough. He stood up from his bed, leaving his badly sewed spider-man fixed suit splattered on the bed. Heavy steps and the slam of his door didn’t give the owner of the apartment a clue of what was coming for them, so when he banged the door two times, he waited but nothing happened, instead a wave of noise came through of it, as if the air and life were doing it on purpose just to add more stress in him; music the loud kind, instruments clashing against one another as if they had no rhythm to go with.

He banged the door, this time with white knuckles and a fury bubbling in his stomach. Suddenly the music stopped and Peter inhaled, oh, he was so ready to give this person hell, he was even expecting a fight to go down. This didn’t have anything to do with MJ dating another person, of course not, this was about the noise, yeah, that was it.

The door swung open and Peter puffed his chest, but it deflated the second his eyes landed on your frame. 

“Hi!” You said chirpy and jolly, waving a hand. Your hair was messy as if a wind swirl had trapped you and now you had to deal with this new crazy hairdo and a sweaty forehead.

Peter tried, he really did but his eyes betrayed him and went up and down your body, pink shorts, with strawberries, that was something. Your shirt was spotty with breach, it was an Arctic Monkeys one, he liked them. You looked… not as annoying as he expected.

He gulped and inevitably sighed. “Um hello, listen, I came up here to make you stop with the noise but I was not expecting to find you here, so um, yeah sorry. Just would you keep it down?”

All the hot bubbly anger settled down, he was in no way going to fight a girl let alone an adorable looking one.

“Oh, I had no idea, sorry!” You smiled sheepishly. “I just moved in this morning and I was trying to move a few things around because they just left them all scattered and I kind of wanted to— anyway yeah I am so sorry about that.” 

Peter nodded, he caught the pink in your cheeks going brighter the more he stared at you.

“You’re fine, really, maybe I’m just being a little dramatic.” 

Dammit enhanced hearing. 

“I bet you aren’t, I put the music too loud to avoid hearing the screeching myself.” Scratching your cheek you looked at him in the eye and quickly looked away. 

“Well, I live downstairs, do you… er need some help?” Peter looked past you, his eyes landing on the piled boxes and the furniture indeed resting in the center of the room.

“No need, I think I caused enough mayhem,”

“Nonsense, I would be also doing it for myself, if I help you you will finish early, hence I can have silence in my own apartment.” 

After a second you nodded, stepping aside. “Alright then.”

“My name’s Peter Parker by the way, I live literally below you.” His big hand extended, you met his and soon you two were moving furniture around the apartment, the music didn’t sound like noise in Peter’s ears any more, he in fact found out you really liked The Strokes.

The next morning Peter woke up with a banging headache, a brick wall fell over him when he tried to save a dog from a fire down by Little Italy. Only positive thing about his heroic act was that the owner of the dog handed him a little coupon card for free pizzas for the rest of the year at his son’s pizzeria two blocks down. He was definitely using that one.

A soft almost imperceptible knock startled him as he swallowed two ibuprofens with a big gulp of black coffee. The coffee was cold but he couldn’t care less.

As if he wasn't sure the knock had been on his door, he opened it slowly, you couldn’t be too sure anyway. At least his spider senses weren’t skyrocketing, which was always good.

His eyes found emptiness, there was no one at his door, his head popped out, looking to the right then the left and then a sweet smell caught his attention. Syrup-y, vanilla like.

Eyes went to the floor instinctively, right at his feet there was a yellow plate, a baby blue sticky note on the plastic wrapping it. 

His brows furrowed as he squatted down. 

Hi, Peter Parker.

I’m so sorry I disturbed your peace last night, 

take these pancakes as an apology and as a thank you for your help.

Have a good day,

- your noisy top floor neighbor.

Peter felt a flutter in his chest, he hadn’t eaten pancakes in so long, and these looked extremely good. The plastic wrap was forming little condensation drops, so he picked it up, with a smile forming on his lips.

As soon as the wrap was discarded his apartment filled with the smell of sweet homey goodness. Even a little plastic pot of syrup was resting at the side of the pancakes. He looked at them for a good minute, just appreciating the looks of it. 

“Okay…” he mumbled to himself as he grabbed a fork, his cold coffee still half drunk near his left hand.

Peter firstly dipped his pinky in the syrup and as he sucked on it he couldn’t help to make a sound of pure joy. Pouring the gooey thing over the spongy misshapen circles was making his mouth water and the first bite was like a whole new experience to him. He noticed how the pancakes were soft like he imagined clouds were, then he chewed on something sour his eyes widened, looking down he noticed the very well hidden blueberries.

It was like having a party in his mouth, warm, sugary with a hint of sourness and then all combined, he moaned as his forehead hit the surface of the counter in his kitchen. 

“You have to be kidding me!” 

Peter was a fan of berries in general but there was definitely something in the blueberries that made him extremely happy, it was almost childish, it was probably the memories of his mom adding them to his cereal when he refused to eat something else.

The whole thing disappeared in less than a few minutes. He was both flattered and a bit insulted by you for giving him six pancakes instead of the common amount of three but he was also very grateful, he hadn’t had a breakfast like that since he lived with May, and that had been years ago. This made him feel warm inside, almost loved.

The water of the sink cleaned the remains of the food and he stared at the plate, a big pink smiley face was painted on the center of it, this made him chuckle, one that vanished as quickly as it came. How was he supposed to give you back your plate, he was not good at cooking, well… only if you appreciated instant ramen or mac and cheese coming from a box.

He wasn’t very fond of the idea of returning your plate empty, made him feel ungrateful, even though he had been the one handing you his services, it hadn’t taken much from him to help you anyway, you had been nice and chatty, he even enjoyed being around you, and Peter didn’t enjoy being around many people. 

With a deep sigh he left the cheery plate to dry on the rack, he had to go to work now.

Working for this new lab was something he didn’t expect to feel excited about but being part of the genetics department was probably the best decision they made for him, he could check all kinds of weird things, giving him access to classified information that was also helpful for his arachnid counterpart. 

But just today wasn’t one of those days, his mind kept on drifting to you and your plate and those freaking incredible pancakes. Deep down he thought of finding ways to help you so he could eat those delicious fluffy things at least once more. For now he had to just entertain the idea, soon he focused on options to give you back your stuff without even going knocking at your door.

Because that would be weird? Isn’t it? To knock and give your plate back with a nod and then disappear without a word. It seemed too impolite and somehow Peter wanted to seem like a complete gentleman with you, after all he had been a bit forward last night, he was tired and upset and you were being so noisy but now here he was in a dilemma. 

Lunch felt like a slap, like a bucket of cold water, his sandwich tasted like sandpaper –not that he had tried it but he guessed that’s what it tasted like–not even his favorite drink from the vending machine seemed good enough in comparison to his three Michelin star breakfast. Swinging back home felt a little better than going in the subway, he made a mental note to fix his motorcycle, he didn’t need to deal with the heat of the city when he could drive to work and back and enjoy the breeze.

You know how destiny and coincidences are such a funny thing, Peter decided to take the elevator to his floor instead of just crawling up to his window. He just felt like it, so he stood there waiting until the door clinked sliding open, revealing a figure inside, your sparkly eyes was the first thing he saw.

Peter almost gasped.

“Peter! Hi,”

“Hey! Are you heading out?” duh how are you so smart, Parker? “I mean yeah of course you are, if not you wouldn’t be here.”

You chuckled. “Yes, I just ran out of milk.” Cheeks going pink, Peter smirked.

“Right, well, I won’t get in your way.”

“Okay, see you around.” 

Peter walked in the elevator and just as you walked past him, he held the door open just to see you for a little longer.

“Hey!” he quickly shouted. your hair flipping as you twirled to face him. “Thanks for the pancakes, they were really good, like exceptionally amazing.” 

“Ha, wow no, thank you, I really appreciate what you did for me yesterday, hopefully there won't be more disturbances in the future.” 

“Please, be my guest, if you need something you know where to find me.” 

“Will try not to bother you much but it’s good to know, thanks!” 

Peter was grinning. “By the way, the blueberries were quite the surprise, they’re my favorite.”

Your whole face brightened “Good! You were lucky, then. It was Blueberry Wednesday.”

Chest fluttering and all, Peter saw you wave at him and disappear out the door, his way to his apartment felt light, like all his worries had suddenly evaporated. His apartment seemed cozier too. Kicking off his shoes, he went to grab a glass of water, his eyes finding the happy yellow and pink plate, he almost choked.

“Oh shit! What am I going to do with you?”

Scratching his neck, he really needed an excuse now. He wanted to see you again.

[blank468]

My somewhat final thoughts of My Hero Academia

Note: Now that MHA is now doing an epilogue and is ending soon, I might as well give my final thoughts about this series. I’ll probably continue to talk more about it after the series is officially over but I’m not going to do a full fledged hour long review because I have better things to do.

This is a generic shonen empowerment fantasy that managed to screw its own theme and message. Any good will I would’ve given to series at the beginning is completely irrelevant as it when on. The morals and themes are constantly changing to throw random s**t on a sheet of paper that either doesn’t make sense, contradicts what being shown on screen, or if it doesn’t fits the tone of the story. My hero is not a deconstruction of the shonen genre that does anything new that would make it stand out. Most of the ideas and plot points created either have horrible execution, given no amount of attention where they’re just ignored or just have horrible payoffs. It follows all the exact same tropes seen in every other series and makes them worse. It also gets to the point where it rips off Naruto and makes the same mistakes it did. The amount of plot twists that are excused as some kind of subversion are obnoxious and predictable where’s it gets incredibly annoying. The world building is horrendous and just makes the story feel small for a world that has a life changing impact. The power scale doesn’t always make sense and it does nothing but act as a way to reward characters that didn’t earn it.

It has a dangerous and horrible message for victims of abuse and bullying. My hero has no problem telling the audience that if you’re a victim of any kind of abuse, it’s your problem and you should just act like it’s not a big issue. Apparently it’s ok lie to your friends, family and colleagues that you can trust but it’s not ok to lie or even hold accountable to your abuser. And no matter if he/she has a reason for the way they are, you are always in the wrong and you should spend your sad life praising and benefiting them.

There exists way too many characters for the audience to be invested in and after watching them for several arcs, they are just stereotypes with nothing new or original about them. Many of them come across as either being stupid, annoying, useless, unlikeable, petty, ignorant or just both. Some characters will either exist to benefit others or just highjack the story, ruining every other character’s chance to get any sort spotlight. The series is way too reliant on putting focus on unpleasant and uninteresting characters to please its large audience. The humor is way too reliant on a character’s personality trait. No matter what they do, the story expects us to automatically like them regardless of how horrible and selfish their actions are. Izuku may not be the worst character, but he’s no where near as great as everyone hypes him up to be. Bakugo is an unbearable mess of a character that serves no real purpose in the story and exists to take away every characters chance of development. His development is one of the laziest and obnoxious parts I have ever seen in any story and yet he’s the most popular sadist in the show with no sort of reason or sympathy for me to like him. Any criticism given to this d**khead is automatically shot down and people like me get harassed and called a brain dead immature f*g for stating our opinion.

Aside from Twice and Gentle/ La Brava, these villains are not that interesting and what ever traits about them gave them something to do is absence. Shigaraki is the stories biggest wasted potential that went from being an idiot to being an incompetent idiot to benefit my left nutsack. Toga is a Mary Stu who went from being a sad and annoying character to an annoying and self centered bitch who complains after being told her actions are wrong. Dabi is just a Gary Stu who’s only interested in wanting to kill his dad. Spinner is a joke that is constantly scammed by his creator.

The only saving grace I can give to this series is the art style of the manga and some parts of the Todoroki family drama. I can even say that Horikoshi’s art style and how he designs characters and panel designs inspired me as an artist. The anime as a whole is fine but it’s not perfect, but that’s mostly because it doesn’t do a whole lot of creatively/artistic things to make it on par with the most popular anime series. As an artist, I would recommend my hero as a reference to use to improve your work. If you just want to read or watch a series that has fights that just make you feel some kind of emotion, then you might get something out of this series. It’s not even the absolute worst thing I’ve seen; I’ve seen much worse in other genres other than shonen manga. It’s just rare to find a badly written series without being surrounded by d**kriders. It’s just a disaster of a series, and I wished I spent my time during the pandemic watching another series like Demon Slayer, or Black Clover.

[taintedges]

*tiny little polished shoes running across igneous rock* inkblade headcanons perchance?

You can’t just say perchance!

However, I am absolutely honored to be asked. All takes place after junior year.

This one, I thought of after the little epilogue they had. With them hinting that Adaine and Aelwyn will hunt their mother down maybe during summer break, they will probably need a little party of their own to do that.

So the rest of the bad kids are busy. Kristen and her four-god pantheon, Riz trying and failing to de-stress, Fig’s podcast with Sandra Lynn ep. 69, Fabian buffing up to welcome his new sibling, Gorgug probably busy in his new bench with Mary Ann. And going back to the forest of Sylvaire is certainly going to be difficult for just two wizards.

Jawbone trying to both be a helpful parent and school counselor, suggests they bring trg or now high five heroes(?), let's face it they need some practical applications outside school.

Adaine absolutely hates this idea and does not think another wizard would be useful (she strongly emphasizes that Oisin should be excluded)

Aelwyn provides her own sassy remarks but surprisingly becomes the mediator when an argument happens, which is often.. usually when Oisin tries to refine parts of the plan and puts forward his many “better” ideas which, of course, he has.

And even when Adaine admits to herself that his plan makes more sense she doesn’t ever give up an argument. At first, Oisin doesn’t reciprocate but his cattiness comes out and the whole thing just escalates.

During travel when the silence is too awkward, Oisin will start talking about a book he really likes, and Adaine just roasts his taste even though she probably thinks the opposite.

They may have saved each other from dying multiple times in combat and will awkwardly say thank you after.

There are times when the forest gets too dark and Adaine remembers the last time she was there and how scary it was to face her fears alone. She often wonders if it was the same when Oisin died before getting forced with a rage star in him.

Sometimes they stay up talking at night when she can’t trance and finds him the only one still awake.

When they start to become familiar with each other’s magic, they become totally in sync during a battle (the rest of the group pretends not to notice how good they work together).

Sometimes Oisin wonders how Adaine would know something about his magic that he didn’t talk about (in my head, when tbk snooped around Ruben’s house and Adaine was in his wizard’s tower, I think she studied everything she found and probably took some of his stuff too, perhaps his quill and Oisin certainly notice it missing and wonders how it got into Adaine’s backpack. He doesn’t take the quill back after seeing that Adaine likes using it.)

Adaine also would threaten Oisin to teach her how he created the spells inside ping pong balls all while making remarks about what he did.

Oisin carries Boggy around when the familiar doesn’t immediately follow Adaine. Adaine just assumes Boggy always follows her and Oisin secretly likes stealing Boggy, who is just happy to be here because he now has two parents.

I think Oisin’s crush on Adaine dissipates and only comes back 10x harder at the end of their quest when he sees how capable she is.

Here’s a fun one. Coming back after their adventure, a party at Seacaster Manor in anticipation for senior year.

Adaine gets drunk on bad baby milk and insists on playing beer pong with Oisin.

Ivy is teasing because Oisin actually cannot make a shot (for real, not on purpose).

The drunker Adaine gets the more careless she becomes and hurls the ping pong ball at Oisin and boy do they hurt.

Bickering starts and tbk and trg are no help until Ragh intervenes and puts them on time-out upstairs. Bad idea.

Probably for the first time, Adaine admits that she thought he was cute and bluntly asks him if it was all a ruse to undermine her party and WHY HE MESSAGED HER SORRY AT THE CAFETERIA he could have just not said anything and left her alone.

Oisin does admit that he did like her then and he still likes her now, but the rest of senior year is just Oisin groveling.

Adaine has many times placed ping pong balls with spells written in them in his locker so that when he opens it, his things just fly out and he has to clean it up (I rewatched the scene and Adaine’s really disappointed expression tells me she will not let this go). trg finds this absolutely hilarious and are the ones who kept telling her his locker combinations.

Oisin continues therapy sessions with Jawbone and they find each other there after school.

One time Adaine accidentally left Boggy in Jawbone’s office so Oisin comes to her after to return him.

And every single time after that, Adaine just leaves Boggy on purpose. Jawbone notices (because Boggy just stares at him with his big round eyes. Boggy knows what to do even when Adaine doesn't tell him) but doesn’t say a thing.

One time, tbk are outside on one of the benches when Oisin comes to return Boggy, Kristen’s like, "What’s going on are you co-parenting?"

There’s no formal conversation, just a mutual understanding that Adaine isn’t angry anymore and trusts Oisin to always bring Boggy back.

Do they talk during these interactions? Not at first. But after it became a routine, now they hang out in the library, in Mordred Manor, and of course at Basrar’s.

Some days, Adaine doesn’t leave Boggy at all and Oisin just knows to find her at the end of the day.

This might have been too long.

I cannot write romance for the life of me but I try. Perchance these would suffice because this is a crisis and we are in drought!

INKBLADE NATION WE MAY HAVE LOST THE BATTLE BUT WE STAY WINNING THE WAR!

[mysterycitrus]

I'm forever thinking about persephone pt2 when dick talks about robin as a mantle and how mary grayson's death haunts it and how now so many kids have used the name and died with it, and so when I was reading through New Teen Titans #55 recently, kory's thoughts about dick when he goes to bruce after finding out about jason's death really just ripped my heart in two in a whole different way...

"He hasn’t been the same since he found out about Jason. Oh, Dick- I know you were Robin. I know what this means to you that the new Robin died. I know you feel like part of you died, too- but it wasn’t you, honey. Robin died. But you didn’t. You’re still alive!"

yes!!! yes!!!!! im very very happy that connected with u — death in the family + lonely place of dying + new teen titans + war games were big big rereads for me when i was writing that part. my regret is that i haven’t been able to include an interaction with steph (im committed to keeping her as far away from bruce as possible) but yeah it was so crucial for dick to know that robin had literally gotten children killed. partially because it proves that bruce is a hypocrite, and partially to show how divorced robin has become from its original meaning and purpose. my intention was the same as my version of the pearls falling — to change the context enough to give the actual text new meaning!

i did a lot of reading about romani funeral/practises of mourning, because i think how dick and bruce grieve differently are big parts of their respective characters, and also a significant factor in their estrangement post-robin and post-jason. bruce is trapped in the alley metaphorically, but he also maintains his family home as a mausoleum. he spends a lot of time looking at family portraits, thinking about the pearls, seeing himself as a child in the house. jason’s suit remains in its glass box. he is unable to process his grief, nor does he want to. that pain is the driving force behind his desire to do good.

dick is transient by comparison — he’s never shown to have a lot of worldly possessions (he arrives in bludhaven with a duffel bag and nothing else) and his one point of physical connection to his parents is usually just the poster that shows up sporadically in canon. i didn’t want to misinterpret romani practices for a gd batman fanfic, so i tried to introduce different motivation for how dick utilises his own grief to take action. he uses his family to create a legacy for himself to protect their memory.

with that in mind, it becomes even more devastating that bruce has taken that and given it to others, without explaining the reasons behind its creation. literally, like what if dick used the wayne portrait for kindling? that’s probably the closest point of comparison.

dick actually explaining to donna and roy what robin meant vs its legacy that is totally out of his control was also really important. they still call him robin a decade later! he’s their robin! it’s so important to know that that name persists for him, no matter how many others have worn the cape!

[celtigxr]

The Pink Dread (Master List) - - - - - ch. xiv: The Will of Man

Chapter Summary: It's going to be one very long night.

Word Count: 4429

Sneak Peak: “This your plan, huh? Finish off what you started?”

Warnings: Public intoxication, dirty thoughts, manhandling, angst, Brat!Valeana.

T H E  G R E E N S 

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Aemond had escorted Lady Maris back to her apartments after their time in the library. He was a bit surprised how easily he fell into a long conversation with her, and how it was not even forced. Maris was far more intelligent than he would have assumed; she had an interest in herbology and the medicinal purposes of plants. In another life, she could have been a maester. She even had her own journal she pressed flowers and plants in and wrote down information that she had learned from them.

She was different to Valeana, pleasantly so. She was intelligent in similar ways to him, and that made the prospect of courting her seem less like a chore. The idea of actually marrying her, however, was difficult to swallow, despite the distinct possibility that it might be a reality should he carry along with this charade. Though, Aemond supposed it wouldn’t be terrible. Their conversations were academic in nature, which he enjoyed. With Valeana it was almost never serious; she was quick to make jokes, or gush over superficial things like how a woman’s dress was made, or about a particular shade of green on a leaf she spotted. It was hardly stimulating, so Maris was a breath of fresh air when it came to his experiences with the fairer sex. It also helped that she wasn’t terrible to look at either.

Aemond did notice that she tended to ramble quite a bit, going on tangents about random facts that he either already knew about or didn’t interest him. There was one moment where she corrected him on the pronunciation of a common bush flower known to be toxic in large amounts, which annoyed him more than he cared to admit (he was positive that he was saying it correctly, having heard it a hundred times). He brushed it off, though, for the sake of the conversation and the obvious blush over her cheeks and ears that betrayed both her nervousness and attraction.

“Good night, my lady,” he had bowed and kissed her hand, a gentlemanly smile upon his lip. That blush came back as she bowed her head and gave him a stuttered good night before reluctantly closing the door to the tower. 

Aemond’s good mood was reflected in his gait as he trailed from the north tower, back to the Throne Room to reach the Holdfast. As he passed the shadow of his ancestral throne, Aegon intercepted him on his way out. 

“Brother! You’re looking very cheerful,” The elder slowed down his pace to turn to Aemond. “Coming back from Madam Sylvi’s? That is where I am headed right now.”

“My mood has significantly depreciated these last few seconds,” The younger pursed his lips and partially turned to Aegon’s direction. “Is there something you need of me, or can I go on my way?”

“I see the Madam is losing her touch, if you are already agitated so soon after her craft.”

“I was not–” He interrupted himself. Aemond’s eye shut upon realizing he was quickly losing his composure. However, simultaneously, the chorus of giggles, followed by gasps of women caught his and Aegon’s immediate attention. 

The following sight had rendered Aemond completely motionless, as the only thing he was capable of doing was trying to process what was happening. 

With a loud shout of: “Egg-On-Toast!” the two princes had come to the immediate understanding that they were in the presence of drunk wellbred women. A rare sighting to be sure, though such public displays from young ladies at such high standings could potentially ruin their reputation for the rest of their lives. And yet, he did not care; it was not his burden to bear. Except, among the three was a certain Valyrian blooded woman, and then he cared immensely. 

The one-eyed prince found himself fixated on Valeana as she stumbled on her feet and words 

Aemond was biting the inside of his cheek, trying to keep his expression as stoic as possible. The last thing he wanted was to expose his fascination and amusement over the entire situation… Particularly when Valeana jumped out of her skin like a startled cat when she noticed him. It reminded him of all those times he would scare her after jumping out from around the corner or through a secret passageway. The way her body would go rigid, eyes wide and mouth open and pulled downwards as she gave a strangled yelp, then cursing him to the hells afterwards. 

It was adorable. 

And gods dammit, it still was.

But then she had to go around and be a pain in his arse again, reminding him why he was actively avoiding her. Why her presence was much like that bush flower he had been talking with Maris about earlier: Toxic in high doses. 

“Prince Almond.” 

His eye narrowed at her challengingly, alight with his suppressed need to smile at her tenacity. Alcohol looked good on her. She looked so flushed and darling.

Aemond growled internally at himself.

“Please do not pay her any mind, my Prince,” Ser Erryk approached her and gently grabbed her arm. 

Valeana didn’t put up much of a fight when he tugged her back into his orbit, but she kept her bleary gaze on Aemond as if he would disappear, and reappear somewhere else if she looked away. In fact, she confirmed that is exactly what she was thinking when she pointed at her eyes with two fingers and then at Aemond, mouthing “I’m watching you.”

“I’ll bring her straight back to Maegor’s Holdfast as soon as I see to Lady Wylla and Lady Ellyn,” The white cloak continued. 

“Oh, that won’t be necessary,” Aegon stepped up and took Valeana’s other arm. “Your hands are full enough as it is, Ser– Erryk?” The knight nodded to confirm that he got it correctly. Aegon smiled, then placed his free hand on the woman’s other shoulder. “I’ll escort Lady Valeana safely to her apartments.”

“No,” Aemond immediately blurted without thought. “I’ll escort her back. ”

His declaration took everyone by surprise, especially Valeana, who openly stared at him as if he said the most offending thing to ever disgraced her ears. 

Aegon tilted his head, a curious smile upon his face. Devious and challenging. “Ser Erryk, do not listen to my brother. Lady Valeana will be much safer in my company”

The two princes were glaring at each other, placing Valeana right in the middle, causing her head to dart between the two. Meanwhile, the two other girls whispered and giggled to each other, something about being fought over by princes and a… spitroast?

The kingsguard also looked between the two brothers, then opened his mouth to insist that he will escort her back to the Holdfast, but Aemond was the first to break the tense silence. 

“Ser Erryk, I trust your wise and honourable judgment. Prince Aegon is…” He tilted his head down challengingly at his brother. “Unsuited to escort a vulnerable, inebriated, young maiden alone at night. It is wiser that Lady Valeana comes with me.” His voice darkened as he continued, common tongue dropped in preference to a more eloquent one. “Jikagon raqagon aōha līvi, lēkia. Issa daor aōhon bisa bantis.” (Go enjoy your whores, brother. She is not yours this evening.)

“Whadju just call me…” Valeana’s muttered question went ignored, as both brothers were poised to attack each other. 

The comment achieved the effect that Aemond desired. That smug face Aegon wore fell as every word was spoken. From the implication spoken in common tongue, to the language of their ancestors that he knew Aegon could not understand. Aegon openly glowered at him, nostrils flared and jaw clenched tightly in a scowl. 

And just like that, Aemond’s mood was elevated once more. He even dared to smile down at Aegon before turning to speak to the knight. 

“It is best you hurry along, Ser Erryk. It will take sometime to get Lady Wylla back to her brother, and I am sure that Lord Borros is wrought with worry for his daughter,” Without straying his eyes off of his elder brother, he reached out and plucked Valeana from him by a tug of her wrist. In her drunken, confused state, she stumbled into his chest, her head connecting to his sternum, tucked under his chin. Aemond was immediately overwhelmed with the smells of citrus, wine, strong ale, and the familiar pheromonal scent of her sweat.

Aegon’s eyes flickered down at Valeana, who was blinking in confusion, using her palms to anchor herself against Aemond’s chest.

“Oh my gods,” Ellyn whispered to her Northern counterpart.

“I know! This is the stuff bards sing about,” Wylla whispered back, eyes captivated by the show before her. 

“The room’s spinning right now, can we all just fuckin’ leave?” Valeana slurred tiredly, one hand massaging her temple. 

“Very well,” Aegon nodded and smiled stiffly, then looked back up to Aemond. His eyes went dark, “Don’t let her fall, Aemond.”

Aemond’s smirk faltered, especially because Valeana heard him and made a pathetic little whine. She went to reach for Aegon, and that made Aemond’s blood pressure spike, forcing his own hand to grab it before she could touch the other prince. And for a brief moment, he could’ve sworn he saw Aegon’s arm move, as if he were going to reach out for her in turn.

“You best get going, Cargyll,” Aemond said curtly, and then bowed his head towards the other two women. “Lady Wylla, Lady Ellyn.” 

Tugging her with him, Aemond turned to leave the Throne Room, but not without his charge dragging her feet as she tried to reach out for her drunken companions. 

“Do not worry! I can take’em– Just gotta stay on his left side. Won’t know what’s comin’. Fare thee wel–” With a sharp yank, Aemond pulled her out of sight.

Valeana dragged her feet as Aemond tugged her down the hall by her wrist. She whined, tugged back, slipped and then cried out. When the latter happened, he immediately stopped walking and turned to her sharply, but she appeared to be fine. Flushed from brow to breast, sweaty and frazzled, but otherwise… 

“You’re walking too fast, Almond,” She threw her head back in exasperation. “With yer stupid long spidery legs.” 

“You’re making a spectacle of yourself,” He sharply shot back. “You threaten not just your reputation, but your family’s as well. I need to get you back to your rooms as swiftly as possible, so make haste– Valeana!”

She dropped down to her knees, her arm limply suspended from where he gripped her wrist. 

“I did not ask for your help, Almond,” She twisted her arm feebly, trying to free herself from him. “Aegon could have–”

“Aegon,” he practically growled the name. “Aegon would have pulled you into a dark corner and taken advantage of you.” 

“You do not know that.”

“You do not know my brother like I do,” he narrowed his eye down at her stubborn form on the floor. “Though mayhaps that is what you desire. To be felt up like a common tart.”

Her brow knitted at that, then she blinked rapidly in confusion, “Whu-what? Didju just call me a tart, Aemond Targaryen? Did you not just call me a fucking tart?”

He huffed through his nose, “Get up Valeana, before more people see you.”

“Oh, no, no, no,” she stood up straighter on her knees to make her point. “You just dug your grave, Targaryen. You think I was difficult before? I’mma make this night the worst godsdamn night of your miserable life, you one-eyed wyrm.” 

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Valeana made well on her threat. She did, in fact, make that night the worst night of his life. Aemond wasn’t even entirely certain how much time passed, but what he did know was that they weren’t even halfway to Maegor’s Holdfast. He had started by dragging her across the floor by her wrists, while she explained her marital plans with her co-conspirators, Wylla and Ellyn. 

“Wylla and Ellyn will marry my brothers, and then I will marry Lord Cregan, you understand. That way, we will all be good-sisters… And in a way, we will be wives to each other. It’s a brilliant plan, really.” 

Aemond was doing a good job at not interacting with her drunk babbling, but he couldn’t stop himself when he asked, “Does Stark know about this arrangement?” His tone laced with bitter exhaustion. 

“I am sure Wylla is presenting the same proposal as we speak.” Her eyes fluttered closed, then she scrunched up her face “Are we there yet? I lost feeling in my arms.” 

Aemond immediately dropped her arms and she flopped on the ground like a starfish. 

“We would have arrived sooner if you got off the floor.”

“But the floor is nice and cool, and this bloody castle is so hot, Aemond,” she whined. 

He ran his hands over his face from his temples, down to his eye in frustration. They were getting nowhere, and the hour of the wolf was upon them. At this rate, by the time they reached her family’s wing, it would be dawn and the servants would be milling through the corridors to fulfill their morning routines.

Impatient and resolute in not allowing her to get the best of him, Aemond bent over, hauled her up from the floor, and then slung her over his shoulder. She gave an unladylike groan at the contact of her stomach being pressed against his narrow shoulder bone. She weighed like a sack of lead, but Aemond secured her legs and strode forward. 

He couldn’t move as swiftly as he would have liked, but they were making more ground this way. It was easier to dodge oncoming guards, as well, but the caveat was her kicking and slapping his back and rear like a war drum. 

“You have a very pert arse, Almond,” she had said after giving it another slap with a weak hand. He hardly could feel it through his leather breeches, but it was enough for heat to reach the tip of his ears. Out of irritation, of course, not for any other reason.

Then Valeana began to groan and moan, and when she stopped kicking about, he felt a tentative tap on his back. 

“P-put me down, Ae-aemond.”

“As much as I desire to, I am not wasting any—”

“‘M gonna to be sick,” her meek confession was enough for him to immediately stop walking and bend slightly to place her on her feet. She wasted no time to clammer against the wall until she found a narrow window that looked over the side of the cliffs. He shut his eye when he heard her heave, followed by the tell-tale sound of watery contents exiting her gullet, and splashing down the side of the Red Keep. 

Aemond leaned against the stone wall and patiently waited for her, eye remaining closed and trying to disassociate to any place that wasn’t his reality. Perhaps he should have let Aegon escort her back… Whatever would have happened between the two wouldn’t be much different to what he came upon the other night, and more importantly, it was not his business. Valeana was not a friend to him and vice versa. Not to mention, the present moment just killed any remnants of attraction he shamefully and subconsciously harboured. 

Finally, Valeana pulled away from the window, using her sleeves to wipe at her mouth and chin. She had a pained expression on her pink face when she settled her side against the wall. 

“That is the price you pay for overindulging in drink,” his berate was softer than he’d intended. 

She sent him a withering look, “Why did you insist on escorting me back, Aemond?”

There was some surprising clarity in her words, almost like she had purged the source of her befuddlement just enough to think and speak coherently. The problem was he didn’t have a good answer, at least one that would satiate her and not make him look like a fool. 

“Aegon cannot be trusted with—”

She groaned and rolled her eyes, “Aegon…Aegon… It’s not about him. Many guards have crossed our paths since you dragged me off. You have avoided them, when you could have just pawned me off to them, effectively unburdening yourself.”

“I do not trust–” He thinned his lips, and turned away before correcting himself, placing the view of her face at his blind spot. “Outside the kingsguard, the guards patrolling the keep are just as weak-willed as any man.”

“Oh really?

He did not see her take tentative steps towards him, not until she was right under his nose, craning her neck to look up at him. 

“Are you weak-willed, my Prince?” She raised an eyebrow at him.

He scoffed, nearly laughing at the question. 

“I’ve already established I do not trust my mortality whilst in your presence… but could I trust my virtue in your—” she looked him up and down and tilted her head, “strong, yet nimble hands?”

Aemond pulled himself from the wall and grasped her bicep, “Let’s move before anyone sees how foolish you are.”

“Stop manhandling me! I’m the bloody Queen of the North! My husband, Cregan Stark, will not stand for this.”

At least he wasn’t dragging her along the floor, or carrying her over his admittedly sore shoulder. They continued to walk until the corridor opened up to large arches, showing the small courtyard below them. With his destination now in sight, he gently pushed her forward, ignoring her soft whines and complaints of the humidity. 

And then they reached a familiar corner, to a familiar flight of spiral stairs. That is when her feet froze. 

“No,” She spun around and tried to push through him. “I knew it– I knew I could not trust you–”

“Valeana–” he gripped her arms, oblivious to the reasons for her sudden distress. “Stop being difficult, we are almost there.” 

“This your plan, huh? Finish off what you started?”

A flash of confusion etched his features until he finally got a good look at exactly where they were. The prince’s shoulders tensed at the realization, and in that brief moment she managed to rush past him on wobbly legs. Aemond was quick to grab onto her wrist. 

“Let me go! Let go of me!” She yanked her arm, causing her sleeve to stretch and pull over her pale shoulder. 

“Valeana,” he pleaded, pulling her body against his, her back to his chest and her head tucked under his chin. Still holding onto her wrist, he folded their arms around her waist to keep her to him. “I am not trying to hurt you. I just want to see you safely back to your rooms.”

He couldn’t see it, but there were fat tears stuck to her eyelashes and rolling over her rosy cheeks. He couldn’t see it, but her left leg was shaking. He couldn’t see it, but she was baring and gritting her teeth as if she was preparing for the worst. But he could hear her sniffles, and feel her trembling fingers, and out of instinct he pulled her closer to him. 

“I’m not going to push you, Valeana.”

“You already did,” she replied immediately with a shaky breath. “Twice.” 

“That was…” He sighed through his lips, “That was a mistake.”

She slowly stopped fighting against him, and slumped in his hold like a sack of potatoes. He could feel her breathing harshly through her parted lips. 

“I’m not so sure, anymore,” her words were spoken so lowly, he almost didn’t hear her. “Let me go, Aemond. I’ll– I’ll find my own way.”

The prince was unwilling to do as she asked; he was frozen in his own body with no control of his limbs as they clung to Valeana Celtigar, afraid of letting her go. Afraid of seeing her leave him again. This was the first time in ten years that his arms have embraced her. She felt so perfect against his frame, it would be a sin if they parted, surely. 

She made a move to step away, to pry his arm from around her and leave, but the approaching footsteps and chatter of servants brought back reality. The hour of the nightingale was arriving, the dawn nearly here, and the Keep was starting to wake. 

With the sudden realization of how this looked (she disheveled, crying, with her dress tugged over her shoulder, and him holding her in a vice against his body), Aemond sprung back to sense and pulled her away from a potential scandal to both their houses. 

“We’ll go through the tunnels,” he went past the offending stairs and marched over to an alcove where a statue of the Maiden stood, surrounded by patterned tapestries. He pushed them aside to reveal a slender door, and then reached for a wall sconce, plucking the torch from its cradle. 

“Stay close,” he briefly released her to pull open the door. Billows of dust and a distinctive crack of wood told her it had been some time since this hidden passageway was used. Aemond arched his arm as he held open the door and gestured with a nod of his head for her to enter. 

Valeana hesitated of course, especially since all she could see was darkness before her. Though behind her was a maze of corridors and parapets that she would have to navigate on wobbly and sore legs. To avoid those spiral stairs, the way to the Holdfast was long and tedious. 

With a sigh of defeat, she bowed her head and slipped into the space, hands bracing the wall of the narrow fit. Aemond followed, shutting the door securely, and held the torch above their heads to shed light for their path. The narrow hallway went on for quite a while, forcing them to shimmy their way through. 

Valeana huffed and wiped her slick forehead with the back of her hand, “It’s hotter in here than outside.”

“You wouldn’t be so hot if you didn’t wear so many layers,” Aemond replied, eyes trained over her head, down the never ending passageway. It was a curious choice, given his knowledge of her aversion to heat. The dresses were lovely, and complimented her… assets well, but they were impractical in the south. Even highborn ladies at the Keep wore dresses with lighter fabric, forgoing petticoats and even chemises sometimes. Valeana’s dresses thus far had been wide and layered. 

“You’re right,” she surprised him with her answer, forcing him to glance down in time to see her exhale tiredly through pouted lips. The yellow glow of the firelight caused the sweat on the tops of her breasts to sparkle, making them look like giant pearls. 

Aemond swallowed thickly, then quickly diverted his attention to the endless abyss. He was taken back to the times when he was a lad on the cusp of manhood. Finding hair in places where there weren’t before, and waking up with a stiff member or wet bed sheets. Valeana was of the same age, going through similar but different growing pains, and they were difficult to ignore. Perhaps it was because of her weight, but Valeana’s breasts were always large – not nearly the size they were now, but bigger than most girls her age at the time. They’d pillow over the constraints of her dresses, and when she breathed heavily, the fabric would dig into the soft flesh… like it was doing now. 

The first time he stroked himself was to the memory of Valeana Celtigar’s breasts, wanting nothing more to place his cock between them. And then paint them with his spend.  

The narrow passageway started to widen when it started to decline, and the walls began to show small diamond shaped gaps in the stone wall that allowed a draft in. Valeana moved over to them and moaned satisfyingly. She threw her head back and allowed the gentle breeze waft over her arched neck and bosoms, forcing her reluctant guide’s eye to fixate on her. Then she started to unlace her bodice at the front, and something spiked inside him that felt like either panic or excitement. 

“What are you doing?”

“I told you, I’m fucking hot,” she pulled one string at a time, exposing the thin chemise underneath. The weight of her breasts were nearly free from the confines of the corseted top, practically spilling out. 

Perhaps it was panic. A sliver of pius upbringing that drove him to jerk his hand forward to stop her. The word ‘stop’ was on his lip as fear gripped his throat. Fear of what? Fear of being caught in a compromising position? Or fear of his desire? The fear of doing exactly what he implied his brother might do, had he been in Aemond’s place. 

Aemond’s splayed hand was upon her breasts in an instant. It had ceased her movements, yes, but it effectively backfired for him. The width of his palm was holding back the spill of her heavy chest, and his fingers slightly curled into the soft flesh through the muslin fabric of her chemise. His thumb hovered over her cleavage, which rose and fell rapidly, only now for reasons other than trying to breathe through humid air. 

Valeana looked down at his hand and then slowly raised her eyes to him. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed down his apprehension. Her pupils were blown wide, and he imagined that his single violet eye looked similarly. Aemond was breathing through the gap between his lips, which made him instinctively flick out his tongue and run it along the chapped skin. That’s when he caught her eyes flickering from his gaze, down towards his mouth. 

The subtle motion emboldened him enough to finally move his thumb. His digit plunged between her breasts, immediately enveloped by their silky – albeit slick with sweat – and smooth embrace. The heat that stirred in his pelvis immediately clouded his judgement, but he kept still, waiting to see how she would react. When she didn’t move, he tested again by moving his thumb up and down the valley, and then over a mound. 

And then it happened. Valeana arched her back into his touch and an airy plea in the form of his name was pulled from her plush pink lips. That was when Aemond became completely undone. She won. His resolve and will crumbled, and he fell on his knees before her like a sinner at the feet of the Maiden.

Notes: I think we can all collectively agree Aemond is a tit guy.

Tag: @queen-of-elves, @keylin1730, @anakilusmos, @weepingfashionwritingplaid, @sugutoad, @desireangel

( if you wish to be tagged for this story, just give me a reply! )

Please do not re post, redistribute or plagiarize my work. The only other place this story is posted on is ao3 under the same username.

[odyssean-flower]

Have another deleted scene

(all i can say is that the chapter is coming together, so here, have this scene)

For a few moments, neither of you spoke. You stared at the misty scenery before you. It somewhat reminded you of the painting you did for Neuvillette.

I should get straight to the point, you thought, then turned to him. But before you could speak, he beat you to it.

“What is that?” he asked, pointing to the wrapped bundle on your lap.

“Oh, this?” you looked down at it. “These are the macarons I made.”

“You made them?” he leaned closer towards you. His eyes looked more animated than you had ever seen them before. They made for a strange contrast against his serious features, and you couldn’t help but stare at them. Even though he had an ageless sort of look, he looked younger somehow.

It took you a few seconds before you realized you were, once again, staring at him for too long. One would think that you would know better by now.

“Yes. There was a baking workshop happening in town, so I decided to join it for fun. I don’t think they turned out very well, though, so I’m planning to feed them to the ducks.”

“I see,” Neuvillette stared at the bundle in consideration, then spoke again. “You may not be aware of this, but Fontaine’s laws state that it is illegal to feed cakes and other baked goods to birds. It is detrimental to their digestive systems.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that,” you said. “Well, of course you would know about these things. I’ll just throw them away, then.” You decided not to mention the many times you fed burnt bread to the finches and pigeons back home.

“Throw them away? How wasteful. Surely they could be served for some better purpose.”

“Well, I’ve already eaten, and I don’t want to give bad macarons to Marie or the Melusines, so I’m not sure what to do with them.”

“I could think of a few solutions,” Neuvillette gave you a meaningful look.

“Hold on…are you saying that you want to eat them?” you said incredulously.

“Is that so surprising?”

“Yes,” you nodded emphatically. “I’ve never seen you eat desserts at home, and macarons aren’t exactly brimming with moisture. Plus…I was not exaggerating when I said they aren’t good. They really aren’t.”

“It is good to try new things. Also, I doubt anything you made could be truly terrible.”

Where is his high opinion of me coming from? You wondered, not for the first time. “I don’t want you to eat bad food. I’ll make something better for you next time, I promise.”

“I still wish to sample them, though,” Neuvillette was being strangely insistent about this. The rain seemed to be coming down harder. “Even one will do.”

“If you insist. Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” you unwrapped the bundle and handed him a pink macaron. He took it from you and put it in his mouth without even so much as inspecting it. Somehow, he admirably managed to keep a straight face as he tasted the cake and swallowed it. He took out a handkerchief from his breast pocket, and for a moment you thought he was going to spit into it. But no, he only wiped his mouth.

“Another, please,” he said. He didn’t even sound a little winded.

“I can’t do that to you,” you said, feeling as though you had committed a crime. Neuvillette was known to not have many good words to say about Fontainian cuisine, and yet, here he was, choking down your terrible macarons. Maybe he’ll completely swear off human food after this. “Don’t force yourself for my sake.”

“I’m not forcing myself,” Neuvillette said, and it was almost convincing. “It isn’t as bad as you said. It…certainly possesses a unique flavor.”

“Neuvillette…” you said in exasperation. “I wish you would stop being so overly considerate. It’s alright to say what you feel, I can take it.”

“But I do mean what I say, always,” Neuvillette said, sounding baffled. “May I please have another macaron.”

You stared at him for a minute, and he stared back at you. He was always so sincere. It only strengthened your belief that you were making the right choice here.

“Fine, since you seem so keen on torturing yourself. But we’ll split this one, okay?”

You broke a blue macaron in half and gave one half to him. You made a face as you chewed and swallowed the cake. You had no idea what possessed Neuvillette to ask for seconds.

After you finished your baking mishap, you washed it down with the bottle of Fonta that you had thankfully brought with you. Neuvillette was similarly taking a sip of water from his cup. You could feel his disapproving gaze on you, but chose to ignore him.

At last, you managed to wash the flavor of paste out of your mouth and calmed your nerves down somewhat. Now, go for it, or else you’ll never get the nerve again! You mentally cheered yourself on.